The explanation tacked close to his own theory on the Wayfairs. Considering, he relieved Frances of her martini. “When we were arguing, I implied her parents didn’t love her.” He took a long sip, the gin scorching his throat. “I really messed up.”
Frances sighed. “Don’t be silly. Of course they love her. Sarah and Treat are traditionalists. From their perspective, running the Wayfair is a man’s business. They’d rather Linnie found a suitable husband and made her personal life the primary focus.”
In a frustrated gulp, he downed the martini. The notion of a woman with Linnie’s intellect putting diapers and kiddie homework before her career was nuts. She’d do both—with his help, since he’d gladly perform the role of loving husband.
“They still believe Freddie will come back to run the inn,” Frances continued. “It pains me to say this, but if they’ve failed either of their children, it’s their heartbreaker of a son.”
Daniel reeled at the ready defense. “How do you figure?”
“Freddie nearly flunked every year until college. How did he manage to do well at Ohio State? And he did excel. My late husband and I were friends with the dean of arts and sciences—Doug Williams. Right before Freddie enrolled, Treat gave OSU a substantial gift. Believe me, Doug kept watch over the boy.” She paused long enough for Daniel to absorb the explanation. Then she added, “He’s dyslexic.”
The revelation startled Daniel. “You’re positive about this?” he asked.
“Oh yes. Doug got him help without breathing a word to Sarah or Treat. A minor point, since they never would’ve sought help when Freddie was a child. A Wayfair in need of special education? Treat wouldn’t have allowed it.”
“I’ll say one thing for Freddie,” Kay remarked, breaking into the conversation. “He comes up with the most insane solutions. Yet they succeed. The workers he hired are actors. Every meal delivered has been cold, but no one cares. They’ve kept the guests entertained all night.”
In his funk, Daniel wasn’t aware of the impromptu entertainment. Now his attention veered to the center of the tables, where two waiters stood before a group of diners. The band paused, allowing the men to sing. They were good.
He asked, “Does Linnie know her brother hired imposters?”
The question was barely out when he caught sight of her near the dais. Silvia’s nephew, the older one with the beard, whispered in her ear. She laughed, the gaiety forced. She swayed gently side to side. Daniel recognized the mannerism, an indication of nerves or distress. She did the metronome thing every year at tax season. It appeared the nephew had asked her to dance, and she’d halfheartedly agreed.
Frances swerved from the topic of special needs children to the indignities of YouTube videos. Daniel watched her lips moving with his anxiety rising. Silvia’s husband, Marco, stood to toast his wife, blocking the view. Daniel craned his neck. Then Marco escorted his wife to the dance floor. The view cleared.
Sweat pearled in Daniel’s armpits. The nephew took Linnie by the hand. She didn’t look keen on dancing, but the bastard was persistent. She allowed him to escort her to the dance floor.
As if on cue, the chandeliers dimmed. The band resumed playing.
“Dancing in the Dark.”
A sense of urgency carried Daniel across the ballroom. Couples swirled through the shadows. The romantic music lured more people to the dance floor, a frustrating crush of eager bodies pairing off in the semidarkness. His eyes adjusting, he wedged past Silvia and Marco. They moved languidly, cheek to cheek.
Where was Linnie? Panic sent his attention darting through the crowd. There.
Near the edge of the dance floor, Silvia’s nephew spun her in a slow circle. Daniel cut a straight path with the resolve of a linebacker in the fourth quarter. High heels screeched on the parquet floor. Men grunted warnings. There wasn’t time for apologies, not with Silvia’s nephew putting the moves on Linnie, and he kept going. He nearly clipped Jada. Philip pulled her out of the way.
The nephew spotted incoming. For cover, he swerved Linnie toward the safety of the crowd.
Bad move.
Daniel blocked him. “May I cut in?”
“Find another dance partner. Linnie’s taken.”
She frowned. “I’m not ‘taken’ by anyone.”
The guy missed the warning in her voice. “You’re with me.” Apparently he mistook one dance for an all-night commitment.
“Guess again. In fact, why don’t I take myself off the dance floor?”
She began swiveling away, but he pulled her back. “Hey, don’t go.” He nodded at Daniel. “He’s the one who should push off.”
A sizzling tension shot pain from Daniel’s head to his gut. He had five inches and forty pounds on the interloper. Height and muscle were terrible things to waste.
“You want me to push off? How’s this?” Grabbing the bastard by the collar, he pushed him to the ground.
The shriek of startled women careened through the music. From somewhere by the tables, a boy cackled. At Daniel’s admittedly undignified behavior, Linnie went stock-still. He was still composing an apology when her eyes burned fury across his face. In five clumsy seconds, he’d managed to embarrass her in front of all her guests.
She pushed past an openmouthed Jada and hurtled off the dance floor.
The overload of sensation at her flight immobilized him. Beneath the emotion he detected a sizzling tension. He called out an apology, but she kept going. He wasn’t aware he’d started after her until she spun around to ward him off.
They were done with conversation. He’d had his fill.
Lunging, he caught her by the waist. A collective gasp vibrated through the crowd as he lifted her off her feet. Then a smattering of applause from deep in the room as Kay and Frances leapt up. The clapping proved a catalyst, and Sirens across the ballroom came to their feet. Amidst the clapping, he caught sight of Silvia cupping her hands around her mouth and hooting a cheer.
Daniel might have taken a bow if he hadn’t already flung a thrashing Linnie over his shoulder.
He marched out.
Chapter 18
“What do you think you’re doing? Put me down!”
Daniel was thankful no guests mingled in the lobby or on the stairwell. It was one thing to pull a caveman routine in the party, quite another to perform for the paying guests.
Impotent taps of rage landed on his back. “Linnie, cool down.” He took the stairwell quickly, then stalked past a row of suites. “There are kids sleeping.”
“No kidding, Sherlock. This is my place of business. If you think abducting me is a good way to make up, you’re way off. This isn’t putting you in my good graces.”
“Not what I wanted to hear.”
He peered into the shadows leading left and right. Where were the stairs to the south wing? In a decade of unrequited love, he’d never asked for a tour. Imagining the mansion from a bird’s-eye view, he took his best shot.
Swerving left, he shielded Linnie from bumping into the wall. Giving her a goose egg on the brow wouldn’t earn brownie points either. She resumed thrashing with a rage equal parts distressing and titillating. She nearly rolled off his shoulder. Reaching beneath the gown, he latched firmly to the back of a smooth thigh. The move stabilized her—and hitched his temperature up another degree.
I’ll get her upstairs to talk, and ditch my inner caveman.
Success wasn’t guaranteed on either count. She’d given no indication of chatting calmly. Then again, her squirming femininity resting on his shoulder did amazing things for his libido.
“Daniel, I mean it!” Against his back, she grew still. “Where are you taking me? Wait. No.”
The corridor emptied into a dusty stairwell. Fleurs-de-lis decorated the cast-iron banister winding into the air. Cobwebs laced a window dull with grime. Satisfaction spread through him. The south wing was one flight up.
On the walls, blown-glass lamps threw wisps of light. One of the oldest sections of the inn, the south
wing was an elegant lady past her prime. Where the wall met the ceiling, yellowed strips of wallpaper peeled back to expose greying plaster. A patter sounded overhead. Squirrels?
Daniel gave himself a mental kick in the ass.
This is where Linnie crawled into bed at night? The air smelled of damp and the dust accumulating since the Eisenhower presidency.
Why didn’t he sweep her off her feet long ago? At least she would’ve bedded down each night in comfort.
He butted his chin against the tempting curve of her buttocks. “Which room is yours?”
“None of your business.”
Her arms swayed limply. “You’re done beating me up?” He let his questing fingers roam higher on her thigh. She trembled, the response hitting his central nervous system like high-octane fuel. If he didn’t stop roaming, his heart would shoot from his chest like a cannonball. “Damn. I enjoyed your angry-woman massage. I was hoping you’d get to my neck. Sitting at a desk all day long makes me stiff.”
“Very funny, Daniel. I’m not giving you a massage.”
“Will you at least give me five minutes to explain myself? I’m a lawyer, and ‘succinct’ isn’t really my thing.”
“Take me downstairs!”
“After we sit down and talk.” He caught his fingers inching toward her panties. He pounded his inner caveman into retreat. “If you don’t tell me which room is yours, I’ll have to use my powers of deduction.”
“Good luck. You’ll never figure it out.”
A game? He was eager to play.
She muttered unintelligibly as he ducked into the first bedroom. Fiesta colors. A disturbing blow-up man propped behind the chaise lounge, with “Happy Birthday!” written across his plastic torso. The antique dresser groaned beneath a trail of cosmetics, hairbrushes, Siren trinkets, and flamboyant jewelry.
He laughed. “I pity the man who falls for Cat. He’d better love chaos.”
Linnie tried to wiggle off his shoulder. “You’ll never figure out which room is Jada’s or mine. We might as well be twins.”
He hoisted her back in place. “Try me.”
On the opposite side of the hall, a fresh evergreen scent led him in. A comforter the color of tangerines was smoothed neatly across the bed. A photo album rested on the nightstand. He’d begun to enjoy the game, so using the album amounted to cheating. Clothing ordered by style in the closet. A well-thumbed Bible on a settee from the Wayfair’s glory days. The settee’s walnut arms were polished to a gleam.
Still undecided, he crossed the room. His muscles strained from carrying Linnie, but he was content to keep her in place. He peered at the items on the dresser. A lace doily beneath a single bottle of perfume. A coffee cup with lipstick marks. Several job quotes for the renovation work. Three books from the library, with the due date slip on the top book in the stack.
A translucent green piggy bank, filled to the brim.
“Jada’s room,” he announced.
On his shoulder Linnie squirmed. “Bravo. You win.”
“Do I get a prize?” He’d take a kiss, but thought better of the suggestion.
“No, you do not. Congratulations, you’re more astute than anticipated. But we’re not going to my room. I don’t bring men up here.”
“I’m glad.”
She gave him a thump. “Daniel, you’re a man.”
“I’m the only guy allowed up here—ever.”
“Mind getting off your high horse before I kick you off?”
He reconsidered. “Cat and Jada may have guests, as long as I vet the guys first. Only the upstanding and responsible need apply.”
“Think you’re calling the shots? Forget it, pal.”
“I’m not your pal. We left that port of call when you landed a kiss on me the night Freddie arrived.”
“You’ll never visit that port again if you don’t listen up.” She thumped him again on the back. “Downstairs. Now.”
The command barely registered—the next door led into her suite. Daniel entered with the reverence of a man viewing a hidden cache of art. What wonders lay inside? Men occupied places; women possessed them. He was keen for a glimpse of the room where Linnie closed her eyes each night.
Kicking the door shut, he steered her feet to the floor. He abandoned her to tread a slow circle around the room’s perimeter, his hands coasting up and down his thighs with the intensity of his concentration. The first thing that struck him was her scent, layered faintly across the furnishings and drifting lightly through the air. He’d never been able to pinpoint why it stirred him so deeply. Just breathing her in settled his thoughts and gave him a sense of contentment.
Pausing before the rocking chair, he reached for the threadbare robe flung across the arm. With fascination he thumbed the fabric, coming across the careful stitching on the arm where Linnie had mended a tear. She knew how to sew? It seemed a charmingly dated pastime, but then he remembered her frugal nature, how carefully she cared for things—and people.
The book tucked beneath the bedside lamp snagged his attention. The pages murmured as he rifled through.
“You read Emerson?” Another discovery, and he felt like a kid on a treasure hunt.
“I like his essay ‘Nature.’”
“What’s it about?”
Linnie reached for the doorknob. Her hand fell to her side as the charged atmosphere struck her. At a leisurely pace, Daniel had moved off to examine the photos on the walls. Pulling off his suit coat, he tossed it aside like a man digging into work. He picked up her hairbrush and then the compact of blush she’d left out, examining each for a moment before returning them both to the dresser. His unvarnished curiosity moved her deeply.
At length, she replied, “‘Nature’ is kind of a spiritual look at the natural world. I’ve read it a dozen times.”
He circled back around to the bed. “Sounds nice.” Brows lifting, he retrieved the Magic 8 Ball partially hidden beneath a pillow.
“Not mine,” she protested. “Cat was in here before the party.”
“Divining her future in a kid’s toy?”
“Not seriously. Well, her baby clock does tick incessantly. She’d convinced some of her cousins to bring friends to the party—all single men. She wanted a hint if she’d meet a nice guy tonight.”
“Did she?”
“No idea. I was carried off before checking in with her.”
Shrugging off the reprimand, he returned to a portrait hanging near the window. “Your parents look like teenagers in this one.”
“Taken the year they married. They were young.”
“They look happy.”
“Not much to burn through their bliss in those days.”
He spotted the photo on the end table by the chaise lounge. Jada beaming for the camera in an apron dusted with flour.
He asked, “When she owned the bakery in town?”
Sadness whispered through Linnie. “Opening day.” Soon after business declined at the Wayfair, the bakery went under.
“Does she miss the independence?”
“She did. The year after she closed the place was hard for her.” Prudence suggested it was time to return downstairs. Resisting the notion, Linnie wandered to the window. Older guests, the first to leave the party, were strolling to their cars. “Jada still handles most of the baking for the inn. She’s begun delegating some of the work, leaving room for management duties. She’s a natural leader. I’m sure she’s aware I’d like to make her co-manager, assuming the Wayfair remains profitable.”
For a long moment Daniel regarded her. “You’re staying, even if Freddie won’t sell?”
“I think so,” she replied, hating to disappoint him.
Her emotions rebounded when he said, “Whatever you decide, you have my support. That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier.”
“I appreciate your understanding.”
He’d taken care to give her a wide berth. Now he approached, his eyes solemn.
He dipped a hand into his pocket
. “For you.”
A jewelry box of blue velvet. What was inside? Worried, she clasped her hands at her waist.
“Relax, Linnie,” he said, chuckling. “I wouldn’t spring an engagement ring on you without dropping lots of hints.”
His smile was contagious, and she felt the knotty tension leave her neck. She opened the box. Gold earrings with diamonds sparkling on fragile threads. Each earring boasted four diamonds. A soft gasp escaped her lips.
With touching concern, he searched her face. “Do you like them? If you don’t, we’ll return them.”
“Oh, Daniel—they’re beautiful.”
Pleased, he took one and held it to her cheek. “They’ll look good on you.” He returned the earring to the box.
Grateful, she went up on tiptoes. “I love them,” she murmured, kissing his cheek.
The sweet delight melted from his face, leaving behind something masculine and dangerously appealing. Her pulse tripped. She was suddenly aware he was doing his best to keep his eyes leveled on hers. He was determined not to drop his gaze to the gown that plunged daringly to show too much cleavage and caught so tightly at the waist she couldn’t breathe. Or maybe it was the look in his eyes that made her breathless.
He slid a glance to the door, returned to an intense survey of her face. “Should I escort you downstairs?”
“Would you rather stay here?” she asked, putting voice to the longing thrumming between them.
He required no more encouragement. Cupping her face, he kissed her with a thoroughness that transformed her longing. Hunger dove to her core. She fumbled with his tie, undoing the knot. The strip of silk came loose from his neck, and she rushed forward in her quest, her fingers moving to unbutton his shirt. The task completed, she reached for the quivering muscles underneath, her caresses timid at first. Then his mouth quickened on hers, an undeniable catalyst that made her caresses brazen. Daniel groaned, a long, pent-up confirmation of need.
He broke off the kiss. “Slow down, Linnie.” He nipped at her ear. “My turn.”
Without seeking permission, he flicked the gown’s straps from her shoulders. The command he took was a potent aphrodisiac, as were his breaths, coming in tight gasps to heighten her arousal.
Sweet Lake (Sweet Lake #1) Page 21
