“My cousin was teasing.” David stepped into the breach. “I apologize if he embarrassed or offended you. Reese is always ill-tempered before breakfast.”
“I’m not offended,” Faith admitted. “And I would appreciate breakfast.”
“Then it’s settled,” David pronounced. “Think nothing of it. Come in and join us in the wait. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m David Alexander, Reese’s attorney, business partner, friend, and first cousin.” He offered Faith his hand as Reese ushered her into the room, then closed the door behind them.
“I’m Faith Collins,” Faith said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Alexander, but I really shouldn’t intrude on your breakfast.” She headed for the safety of the bedroom.
“Nonsense.” Reese took her elbow and led her to the sofa. “Sit down, Mrs. Collins, you aren’t intruding.”
“But I’m not properly dressed,” she protested.
“You look fine. Besides, it’s early. You don’t have to be completely dressed to eat breakfast.” He flashed his wickedly handsome smile once again.
Faith wanted to point out the impropriety of dining alone with two men, but found herself unable to utter the necessary words. Something about Reese Jordan’s devastating smile affected her sensibilities. Her logical protests vanished. She smiled back at him as she graciously accepted the cup of coffee he placed in her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Jordan.”
“You’re very welcome, Mrs. Collins.” The teasing light in his dark eyes matched the warmth of his smile. Reese looked as if he might elaborate, but the single, sharp rap on the door interrupted him. “That must be breakfast.”
“I’ll get the door.” David walked to the door to admit the waiter.
“Mr. Alexander, I must speak to Mr. Jordan about the impropriety of this situation immediately.” Howard Clegg, manager of the Madison Hotel, pushed his way past David and into the Presidential Suite. The waiter, pushing a cart laden with breakfast, followed in Clegg’s wake as a small crowd of curious women filled the doorway.
“I knew something unsavory was going on up here!” The hotel manager crowed triumphantly. “I knew it as soon as the night clerk reported seeing you, Mr. Jordan”—he pointed his index finger at Reese’s nose—“carrying this…this…woman up here late last night.” Clegg spat out his last sentence and directed his accusing finger at Faith.
Faith gasped aloud and stepped back to avoid Mr. Clegg’s pointing finger and the malicious gleam in his tiny eyes. David made a move in Faith’s direction as the meddlesome group of onlookers pushed farther into the room, but his cousin was quicker. Reese stepped between Faith and the hotel manager, using his body to shield her from the accusatory faces of the crowd.
Reese Jordan stared disdainfully down at the thin, insistent finger jabbing him in the chest, then looked the loathsome little ferret behind it in the eye.
“I suggest you remove your finger from my chest before I take the liberty of removing it for you.” Reese spoke quietly, smoothly, as if he had casually suggested opening a window or hanging up a hat, but that deliberately soft voice carried a definite warning.
“Are you threatening me, sir?” Howard Clegg’s face reddened and his voice rose in pitch, but he was wise enough or wary enough, to remove his finger from the middle of Reese’s broad chest.
“I assure you, Mr. Clegg, that I would never threaten you,” Reese said as he made a show of polishing the onyx stud in the center of his shirt.
Clegg smiled and straightened his shoulders to make himself appear taller.
“I will, however, warn you against making further accusations or maligning the lady’s cha
racter,” Reese continued softly, watching as the expression on the hotel manager’s face changed from exultation to fury.
“Why, you—” Clegg stepped forward, but was brought up short by David Alexander’s firm grasp on his arm. “You can’t waltz in here under the guise of business and proceed to hire these…these…soiled doves…these…whores!” He flung out his arm to indicate the crowd of women.
“Who’re you callin’ whores, mister?” came a shout from the angry women.
“Gentlemen! Ladies!” David stepped in to soothe the tempers of the antagonists and prevent a full-blown brawl. “Calm yourselves.”
“Calm ourselves?” another woman shouted. “How can we be calm when that little weasel stands there bold as brass and calls us whores?”
Yeah,” agreed the woman standing closest to Reese and Faith, “we ain’t the whores around here. She is. He’s the one tryin’ out the candidates and she’s the one that let him. Look at her standing there in nothing more than a dressing gown. A man’s dressing gown.” She eyed Faith jealously as she spat her vile insults in Reese’s direction.
“Ladies.” Reese spoke through clenched teeth. “You misunderstand the situation. Mrs. Collins is the woman I selected yesterday for the job. She has graciously accepted the position.”
“I’ll bet,” sneered someone in the group.
“You didn’t select her yesterday,” someone else accused. “I was in line way ahead of her and I didn’t even get to talk to Mr. Alexander. You might’ve done some selecting, but you didn’t do it yesterday afternoon.”
The woman standing closest to Reese stepped around him and grabbed Faith by the lapels of the velvet robe. “You might say she slept her way into this job ahead of time.”
“Well, since sleepin’ with the boss is the job, who can blame the tart for usin’ her talent to get it?” The accusation hung in the air before a series of malicious chuckles filled the room.