His eyes danced. “Luce, it’s on your ass.”
She blinked hard. “Come again?”
“The writing on your pants says ‘Princess’ right across your…ahem…backside.” He gestured to her nether regions.
“I cannot believe you were reading my ass.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she got there first. “Watch your words carefully.”
“You walk around with words stamped on your pants, men are gonna look.”
“They’re not my pants.” Well, they weren’t. It’s not like she’d chosen them.
“Not your pants?” he asked.
“That’s what I said.” Her heart beat faster with the knowledge he had checked her out.
“Luce. You gave the same defense of every crackhead who gets arrested with blow in his pocket. Gotta be honest, the logic doesn’t fly. You’re wearing them, they’re your pants. End of story.”
“Are you always this difficult?” She shuffled the cards again.
“You’ve got a couple of days to find out.”
She let out a deep breath. “My guess is yes.”
“Your guess is probably right. My turn. Honesty this time. Why are you so afraid of water?”
She opened her mouth, but he cut her off.
“Don’t say sharks.”
Ugh. She didn’t like doing personal, and they’d been getting very personal.
“I confess I do pools fine. Anywhere I can see the bottom and know I can touch. When I can’t see the bottom I get panicky about what’s down there. Add to that, drowning would be the worst way to go. So I avoid the possibility.” She set the stack of cards in front of her.
“Drowning wouldn’t be so bad,” he said with confidence.
“Uh, yeah it would be awful. Your lungs burning up when you’re unable to get to the surface. The panic. Ugh. No. But, seriously, thank you for ensuring I won’t sleep tonight.”
“I’ll distract you later. You’ll forget.” He tipped his bottle to his lips and winked at her.
Warmth flooded her cheeks. She studied the wood grain of the table as though it held the answer to the meaning of life.
“Eyes on me.”
So bossy.
She didn’t want to, but she did.
He was all seriousness. “You’re under the water, and you panic. After the panic, you accept the end, and there’s only a brief fear before you breathe in the water. Peace fills your lungs, and you float to wherever you go when it’s over. They say drowning is…tranquil.”
“Tranquil?” she repeated. He was certifiable. No one thought drowning was anything but awful. “Who says? Because this isn’t something you come back from and say ‘Hey, guess what? Not so bad. This is the way to go. Totally pick drowning.’”
“Freaking adorable. You get that, right?”
“Stop.”
“No.”
Damn.
“Seriously,” he continued. “One of the networks I worked at did a special about people who got brought back after a near-drowning, and they all said it wasn’t so bad. Drowning wouldn’t be fantastic, but it wouldn’t be like dying in a fire. Fire is not the way to go. Or a guillotine. Avoid both of those.”
“I guess I’m not sleeping tonight.” She spoke under her breath.
He raised an eyebrow, and a fissure of yearning skittered through her as he gave her another body scan. “Don’t mind staying up.”
“Can we play something else for a while?”
“Absolutely.” He grinned wider than the devil himself, and she knew exactly what game he wanted to play.
She stood. “I think I’ll go to sleep.”
“Not thinkin’ so. Drowning, fire, and guillotine will have you back here in five. Don’t mind waiting, though, if you want to try the sleep thing.”
Of course he was right. She flopped on the chair. “I need another beer. Mine’s warm.”
“You sure? You’ve got more label to shred on that one.” He pointed to the stack in front of her.
“Next question.” She gave a one-handed flutter of a wave.
He popped the top off another beer and slid it across the table. “Tomorrow night, there’s a barn dance near the lodge. You coming with me?”
“A barn dance? Which century are we in?”
“C’mon, Princess. It’ll be fun. We’ll take some video and call it research. You won’t let me teach you to swim. At least let me teach you to two-step.”
He was William, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he’d asked her on a sort-of date. Her inner-teenager was breakdancing at the idea. “Fine. I’ll go. But I don’t know how to dance.”
His finger traced the ring on her hand. “Luce, the thing you’re not getting is I’m an exceptional teacher. And I know how to do all kinds of fun things.”
She bet he did, especially since he had spent a summer practicing with half the female population of Florida.
…
Two more beers and several more rounds of Confessions erased all of the gruesome ways to die from her memory. He had rolled a sleeping bag on the floor, and she burrowed under the covers on the bed. The dark cabin was eerily quiet without any city noise.
“Will?” she called.
“Yeah, Luce?” His voice was relaxed, throaty.
“I had fun tonight,” she said in his direction.
“Me, too.” It sounded like he punched at his pillow.
She bunched the blankets at her chest. “How’s the floor?”
“Smells like dog piss. How’s the bed?”
“Smells like clean sheets.” Not thousand-thread-count sheets, but they weren’t awful. She adjusted her own pillow.
He sneezed. She stared at the ceiling, willing sleep to come. What had she gotten herself into? What did a guy like him wear to bed? Was he a boxers kind of guy or a nothing kind of guy? Her belly fluttered with a craving not even chocolate cake would fix.
He sneezed again.
“You okay, Will?”
“Allergic to dogs. Given the smell down here, whoever owns this rental brings their dog along when they visit.”
“Will? How do you feel about a pillow line?” She sat up and leaned over the bed, her eyes finally adjusting.
“A what?” He faced the ceiling, his hands resting on his chest.
“You know, a pillow line? I let you come up here, but you can’t cross the pillow line.”
Didn’t everyone know about the pillow line?
“Is that a thing?” It was dark, but she could practically see the devil’s-smile he must’ve had.
“It’s an Amish thing.”
“It’s not an Amish thing.” He rubbed his hand over his eyes, and the sleeping bag rustled as he sat up.
“Fine, you’re right. It’s a Lucy thing.” She tossed the covers back and scooted to the other side of the bed.
“To be clear, you’re inviting me into your bed?” he asked.
She sucked in a heated breath, and not even double-fudge chocolate cake would overpower her craving now.
He sneezed again.
She sighed. “Yeah. I guess I am.” She set up a pillow down the center as he slipped underneath the covers.
“Luce?” he asked.
“Yeah?”
“Knew I liked you.”
“Go to sleep, Will.”
Sometime during the night, the pillow line blurred, and William’s arm snaked around her waist. In the depths of sleep, she had snuggled against him and settled her head under his chin. He smelled of sleep and safety. When she came to, she tried to tug herself away, but his arm tightened, and his breath evened. It was then, when she knew he was asleep, he mumbled her name. Oh God, the way it sounded on his lips. This time, instead of wriggling away, she burrowed deeper into his embrace. She wasn’t asleep. And she’d hate herself tomorrow.
Probably.
Chapter Ten
Lucy pressed her foot into something hard. She nudged it with her toe. Hard and warm and human. She jolted up on the bed. A warm hand pressed
the tender spot above her ankle. A warm, male hand.
“If you wanted a foot rub, all you had to do was ask. No need to kick me.” William sat at the bottom of the bed in his plaid, lumberjack-inspired shirt. His attention was currently on the bare foot she’d shoved against him, his thumb giving some deep tissue attention to the arch.
“I didn’t want a— Oh. That’s nice.”
He hit some kind of trigger point. She moaned. Yup. She did. Right there in bed with William. The yearning from the night before pulsed through her again like warm honey.
“Luce, I have to go take care of some stuff. You’re on your own today. Can you swing by the lodge, ask some questions? I’ll follow up when I get back tonight.”
What? They were kind of married, and he was rubbing her foot. He couldn’t just take off.
“What time is it?” She flicked her hair from her face.
“A little after six. Got something that needs attention.” He covered her foot with the blanket.
What could possibly need attention when he was on his honeymoon?
Cue a Lucy reality check. This wasn’t real. Well, the massage had been real, but the rest, definitely not real. All smoke and mirrors and…foot rubs. And next, please.
“’Kay.” She propped herself on an elbow. He had obviously been up awhile. Wet hair curled around the collar of his button-down shirt. What would it be like to unfasten each of those little buttons and run her hands along his chest? Her gaze moved back to his wide-awake face.
Functioning on no sleep was clearly one of his superpowers.
“I’ll get some video and chat with the other guests. See if they’ve had anything stolen.”
“Visit the spa. That’ll give you lots of time away.” He shrugged and then moved his hand in another slow caress of her ankle. Over the comforter, but she’d take it. A little tug between her thighs reminded her that she was a woman, he was a man, and they were on a bed together.
Sweet baby Jesus. She really did make the worst choices right after waking up.
She pulled a pillow over her face.
“Start by de-grumping before you hit the wilderness with morning attitude. I’ll be back in time to two-step.” He tucked the quilt around her waist before sliding away to shove his wallet in his back pocket and tag his keys off the counter. “Don’t forget to turn on the cameras when you head out.”
He snagged his cell phone and gave a little two-finger wave as he left.
Through the grog of morning brain, she heard him talking. He didn’t sound happy. “What’d he do this time?”
Lucy lay still, trying to convince herself the things happening between them weren’t a big deal. Except, somewhere around two a.m., when he had cuddled her close and whispered her name, it had become a big deal. Her breath stayed trapped in her chest at the memory. This time she wasn’t an overweight teenager with nothing to offer. No, she was the new and improved Lucille, and somewhere within, a tiny piece of her had hoped William was ready for “more” with the new Lucy. But, no, that didn’t work. A fling with her future boss was a bad idea all around.
She blew out a long sigh, took a long shower, and dressed in her favorite worn jeans. The sun slanted through the windows as she tugged on a sweatshirt with her father’s law firm logo, checked the hidden cameras one last time, and set off on a slow walk to the lodge for breakfast. It was all very forest-y here. Pine needles littering the ground, the scent of…well…pine in the air. Little woodland creatures skittered around the trees, making noise as they rustled the leaves. Squirrels maybe? Perhaps chipmunks? Who really knew?
Her plan for the day was to eat, give the staff plenty of time to steal something, and spend the rest of the day getting raw footage of the lodge for William’s story. Absolutely no thinking about what happened the night before.
She arrived at the sleepy lodge and made a beeline for the restaurant.
A party of one at a table for two, she ordered eggs and toast with a full pot of coffee.
She flipped through a magazine and sipped from her mug as the waitress set her breakfast down in a flutter to get to the other tables.
Lucy barely finished buttering her toast—
“I’m Sarah.”
Lucy glanced up, mid-bite. The honeymooner who got the suite stood at the edge of the table. She wore a button-down pastel-blue blouse, slacks, and entirely too sensible Mary Jane flats. She also appeared exceptionally well rested. Not a dark circle to be found under her eyes. Not really unexpected, given the quality of the sheets she got to sleep on. Lucy wasn’t jealous since she got to sleep on Will—
“I wanted to thank you for moving out of the honeymoon suite for us.” Sarah fidgeted with her purse.
“Lucy.” She spoke through a mouth full of food. “My name, I mean. I’m Lucy.”
“Everything worked out okay for you?” Sarah asked, concern written across her face.
“Yep. Everything’s great. They found us a cabin. How’s the, uh, suite?” Lucy asked, knowing damn well the suite was breathtaking.
Sarah’s face lit up. “Great. They sent me spa coupons since they screwed up our reservation. What a mess. It felt so weird when the front desk lady asked Max for incentive to move us in there.”
Wait. What? Lucy’s reporter radar perked to attention. She set her coffee aside. “I’m sorry. She asked for incentive?”
“Not directly, no. You know how these things work.” Sarah waved her hand as though Lucy should know.
Lucy didn’t know, but she was getting the idea. “What exactly did she say?”
“Well…let me think. She told Max that they’d made a mistake and since you were already in the room, there wasn’t much she could do. She emphasized the word, much. It just felt funny to us. But your husband talked to her manager and they’d already arranged for you to move. So it didn’t matter anyway.”
Except it mattered a lot.
“What do you think much meant?” Lucy pressed.
“I think it was pretty clear, if we wanted the room, we needed to grease the way a little.” Sarah’s expression was of total distaste. “The whole thing was odd.”
“You want to sit down?” Lucy’s desire to dig deeper won out over any latent annoyance with Sarah for sleeping on thousand-thread-count sheets.
“That’d be great.” Sarah slumped in the chair across from her. “I came down for breakfast. Max isn’t an early riser, and he can be amazingly grouchy in the morning.” She laughed. “I figured I’d slip out. I’m so glad I did because I love making new friends.”
Apparently, Lucy had received a promotion from William’s “honeymoon prop” to Sarah’s “new friend.” That probably meant her day was looking up.
Lucy really wanted some time alone to process last night’s confessions and the two a.m. cuddle, but this was more important. The woman seemed desperate to talk to someone, and really, Lucy was happy to be that someone.
Lucy took a stab at small talk. “How long have you been married?”
“Eight months. We finally had a chance to get away. Max is a doctor, so his schedule is crazy. What does your husband do?” Sarah asked.
“He’s a landscaper.” Liar.
“Max is a doctor.”
Yeah, she had mentioned that. “A doctor in the family must come in handy.”
“You have no idea. He’s a specialist, so I get referred to a colleague when I’m sick. It’s okay, though. I know how busy he is. Do you work?”
Uh…
“I work with him at the landscape company. I’m his receptionist.” Lies, all lies.
“That’s so romantic.” Sarah’s eyes got dreamy. “What are your plans for the day?”
Now that she had a lead, she needed to coordinate with her missing reporter. Wherever he’d gone.
“Will had to go deal with business. I’m on my own.” Lucy lifted a shoulder.
“Then I declare today a spa day.” Sarah clapped her hands together softly.
In Sarah-world, apparently that was that. S
he had proclaimed the day a spa day, and so it would be. Since nothing had been going to plan anyway, and Lucy’s schedule was clear until Will returned, so she might as well hang with Sarah at the spa and ask around there.
…
Facedown on the massage table, Lucy was awkwardly covered with only a thin, white sheet as Rebecca, the massage therapist, kneaded out a kink in her neck.
Sarah had persuaded her to get a couple’s massage because “it would be so relaxing.” In hindsight, nothing was calming about being naked while Sarah—also facedown on the next table over—chatted about everything from the weather to her desire to breed designer Chihuahua puppies.
“What are you doing tonight? Come to dinner with Max and me so the boys can get to know each other, too.”
“We have plans. Some kind of dance Will is taking me to this evening.”
“The barn dance! I saw the flyer. Oh fun, fun. I’ll talk Max into going, too. We can double. Oh! And tomorrow I signed us up for that honeymoon therapy thing with the guru. You guys should come.”
“We’re only here a couple more days. It’s a short honeymoon. William will want to spend time alone tomorrow.”
Perhaps.
“Well, darn. I guess since we’re going to the dance, we should get our hair done. Makeup, too.” Sarah gave a sly smile. Apparently, she didn’t do spa days halfway. “Do you own cowboy boots? Every girl needs a pair if she goes to a barn dance. I wonder if the gift shop sells them?”
“Um…” Lucy wasn’t so sure about cowboy boots.
“Girl, I’ll show you how it’s done.”
No doubt she would.
For once Sarah was quiet longer than it took to take a breath. Rebecca found a tight spot in Lucy’s arm and did a pinch and roll combination that was surprisingly uncomfortable and relaxing at the same time.
“Lucy?” Sarah asked.
“Uh-huh.” The knot of muscle relaxed under Rebecca’s brilliant hands.
“Have you two been together awhile?” Sarah continued.
“Uh…yeah.” Kind of.
“How do you keep things fresh with Will? Sexually, I mean.”
Rebecca’s hands stilled before pinching, rolling, and pressing against a new muscle Lucy had no idea existed in her arm.
The Honeymoon Trap Page 9
