Calder Pride by Janet Dailey

swayed on unsteady legs and sank down to perch on the chair arm.
    “Celebrated a little too much, did she?” the clerk observed.
    “A little.”
    “At least she’s got sense enough not to be driving.” He pulled out a registration slip. “What’s her name?”
    “Maggie…”
    “Smith?” the clerk suggested with a faint smile.
    Logan glanced back, but she was still frowning over her money.
    “That’s good enough.”
    “And the method of payment?”
    “If she doesn’t take care of it in the morning, you can bill it to my room.”
    “Very good, sir.”
    Scant moments later, Logan walked back to her, room key in hand. “You’re all set.”
    She looked up, with that same furrow of concentration still creasing her forehead. “Don’t they need my credit card imprint?”
    “Not tonight,” he told her. “You can pay for the room in the morning.”
    “Oh.” She seemed momentarily puzzled, the furrow deepening. Then her expression cleared with a dawning thought. “I guess you told them who I am.”
    It was his turn to frown. “I beg your pardon?”
    But she didn’t appear to hear his question as shepushed off the chair arm to stand erect. Swaying suddenly, she reached to grab hold of something and fastened a hand on his arm. Immediately he placed a steadying hand on her waist.
    A small, self-conscious laugh bubbled from her. “I stood up too quickly that time, didn’t I?”
    “It looks that way.”
    “Where’s my room?” Her gaze traveled over the lobby, the first traces of fatigue showing on her face.
    “It’s this way.” Keeping a supportive hand under her elbow, he walked her over to the broad staircase and pressed the room key into her palm, then pointed up the steps and repeated the clerk’s directions, “Second floor, turn left at the head of the stairs, third door on the left.” She gave a great show of listening intently, then nodded her head once in understanding. “Can you make it all right?” he asked.
    “Sure.”
    He remained at the bottom of the staircase, watching as she started up the steps, keeping one hand on the banister’s wood railing and using it to pull herself along. A third of the way up, she paused and turned back to him with a puzzled frown.
    “Hey, Dakota, where did you say it was again?” The note of annoyance in her voice was self-directed.
    It brought a glint of amusement to his eyes. Obviously, she didn’t like this addled, helpless feeling that had resulted from too much alcohol in the system. He stared at her for another long minute, conscious that she stirred something more than amusement in him, something that quickened his senses and his desires. It was more than her undeniable beauty that drew him. Beauty, in his experience, had too often been a shallow thing. But in this woman, there was more than mere beauty; there was a pride and strength of character, an assertion of independence in the way she had rejected his sympathy. Someone weaker would have welcomed it, perhaps even wallowed in it. But not this woman. He had the feeling that weakness was something she despised in anyone, including herself.
    All of this went through his mind in that flashing instant between her question and his briefly delayed response. “I’ll take you to your room,” he said, and knew that he welcomed the excuse to remain in her company a little longer, despite the fact that he also knew she was privately grieving for another man.
    He joined her on the stairs and spread his hand across her back to guide her up the steps. In a different way, he was just as conscious of her nearness as he had been on the dance floor.
    “I can find it on my own.” She gave him a perplexed little frown.
    “This way will be quicker.”
    She looked at the key in her hand and nodded. “True.”
    Together they started up. She caught her toe on the next step and stumbled against him. He reacted instantly to catch her against him and keep her upright. She dipped her head briefly against him, then