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the bed. Her gaze drifted around the room; it was decorated with imagination and taste. The combining of cedarwood furniture and rattan accessories had achieved a perfect balance between dark and light, while the aquamarine and cream color scheme made the room a cool, comfortable haven. However, it was a long cedarwood divan that added a touch of real elegance to the decor. Intricately carved, with a solid wood back that extended the entire length, it came from a less hectic era when ladies took the time to refresh themselves with midafternoon naps. Its plump, cream-colored cover made it look very comfortable, and Allendre smiled slightly. Perhaps she would have had better luck if she'd tried to take her nap there, like a proper lady. But no, she wouldn't have slept there, either, she decided. She simply had too much on her mind.
    Only this morning her assignment here had seemed quite simple, but in the space of a few hours the situation had become considerably more complex. She was no longer certain she could evaluate Shannon House objectively, now that she knew Ric owned it and was so obviously disturbed to discover that its standard of service had been compromised. Knowing him even slightly made it impossible for her to think of the hotel impersonally, and she had no desire to malign the old place or his family's reputation simply because of a temporary management problem. Ric was obviously going to solve that problem, and it didn't seem fair to lower the hotel's rating when he would probably have everything running smoothly again very soon. Still, the service this afternoon had been horrendous, and Allendre couldn't just ignore that fact. Then there were the complaints about bill padding that she hadn't even begun to look into yet.
    Mismanagement did seem to be the root of the problems here, and Allendre wasn't really surprised. She hadn't been at all impressed by Debra Hopkins. As far as she could see, the woman simply didn't possess the skills needed to manage a hotel. Actually, Allendre had disliked her, too, from the moment she had first opened her mouth. That patently false nasal drawl, combined with her pseudosophisticated mannerisms, had created a very bad first impression. There was only one compliment Allendre could have bestowed upon her—she
was
pretty.
    Sighing, Allendre flopped back down on the bed, chiding herself for even considering personalities. That wasn't her job. Her job was to discover how the typical guest was treated in this hotel. She wasn't supposed to analyze the situation. Mr. Meredith wanted facts, and one fact was that Shannon House was no longer a super deluxe establishment. Even Ric realized that, so why was she so reluctant to say as much in her report? She knew why. Suddenly, she felt like a cheat, a fraud, a
spy
, as Lynn had teasingly called her. She could tell Ric who she was and exactly why she was here; she considered that briefly, then hastily squelched such a crazy idea. Telling him the truth would be as dangerous as standing in front of an onrushing train and daring it to hit her.
    At seven Allendre was dressed for dinner. Checking her appearance in the cedar-framed cheval glass, she straightened the braided spaghetti straps of her apricot dress, then made certain that the lace-edged slit in her slip corresponded exactly with the center slit in the front of her skirt. With her fingertips she examined the tidiness of the heavy, loose chignon on the nape of her neck and for a moment considered pulling out the pins that held it in place and allowing her hair to tumble down around her shoulders, the way she usually wore it. But no. She looked more sophisticated with it up this way. After moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, she straightened her shoulders resolutely, dropped her key into her black clutch purse, and went out the door.
    She wasn't looking forward to dinner. As she took the elevator down to the second floor she tried to relax, but when she stepped out onto the