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deck by clacking a pitcher of orange juice down on the table next to Alex’s lounger.
    He glanced up from the executive summary of the McKinley strategic plan.
    He didn’t know what he’d done to annoy Mrs. Nash, but it was obvious by the set of her lips that something was up. He tried to gauge her expression, but the sun was bright, and his eyes were grainy from lack of sleep.
    He decided to go for the direct approach. “Something wrong?”
    â€œWhat could be wrong?” Then her lips returned to the prune position. “Though I see you’re getting married.”
    â€œI am,” he confirmed, wondering if that was really the problem. Surely she wasn’t offended because he hadn’t told her personally. Sunday was her day off.
    She peered at him over the half glasses that were secured around her neck by a sparkling gold chain.
    He was clearly supposed to be catching onto something here. But he really didn’t have time for games. Another ten minutes of cramming for the showdown with old man Murdoch from DreamLodge, and he was diving into the pool to wake himself up. He would barely get in thirty lengths and a shower if he wanted to be at the DreamLodge offices before eight.
    And he definitely wanted to be there before the start of business. He wasn’t taking any chances that Murdoch would get to Emma before Alex got to him.
    Mrs. Nash finally relented. “To a woman I’ve never met?”
    Alex gave his head a brief shake. “You met her last week.”
    Mrs. Nash drew in an expressive breath. “No. She was at the estate last week. We were never introduced.”
    Okay. That was an oversight. Alex could see that now, and he would definitely introduce them as soon as possible. “I’ll—”
    â€œAnd I see she’s recently come into some property…”
    And what, exactly, did Mrs. Nash mean by that? And what was that funny tilt to her chin?
    Her tone dropped to interrogation timbre and the pace of her words slowed. “ Hotel property.”
    â€œYes.” Alex measured his response. He was way too tired to justify his personal life.
    At his admission, her voice turned snappy again. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, young man.”
    Young man? “What happened to Mr. Garrison?”
    â€œSweeping that innocent girl off her feet.”
    Alex sat forward. “Wait a minute—”
    â€œDid you send her the usual hothouse bouquet? Take her to Tradori’s? Book your suite at the Manhattan?”
    â€œWhoa.” How did Mrs. Nash know about his suite at the Manhattan? “I’ve been completely up front with Emma.”
    â€œHa. The poor woman didn’t have a ghost of a chance. Her father only recently passing.”
    Now that just plain wasn’t fair. Alex rose to his feet. “She had every chance.”
    Mrs. Nash shook her head. “Alex, I love you dearly. You are like a son to me.”
    â€œI didn’t do anything wrong.”
    â€œI know your weaknesses.”
    â€œI know my weaknesses, too.” And they certainly didn’t include lying to women in order to steal their property.
    They might involve misleading a competitor to cinch a business deal, or lying to the world at large in order to merge two hotel chains. But those were completely separate issues. And defensible ones.
    Not that he had to explain himself.
    Of course he didn’t have to explain himself.
    Unfortunately, something in her expression triggered a psychological remnant of his childhood. And he couldn’t seem to bring himself to disappoint her.
    He made a split-second decision to bring her into the circle. “Emma knows why I’m marrying her.”
    Mrs. Nash’s expression changed. “She knows it’s for her hotels?”
    He nodded. “I offered her a financial bailout, and she took it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting.”
    He stripped off his shirt, stepped out of his