by Pat White
“Rich we’ve got something!” a voice squawked through the radio. “Come by the Lucky Lady.”
“Thanks, Pete, you’re a lifesaver. Ten-four.” He grinned at Jack. “No problem.”
“The Lucky Lady?”
“Best hotel in Whiteside County. You’ll love it. Overlooks Mortimer Park where they’re holding the festival. You should come down. It’s a lot of fun. Rides, games, entertainment. Tailspin and the Four-Eyed Iguanas are playing tonight. Last night we had a Liberace impersonator.”
“Thanks, but I think we could use some rest.” He glanced over his shoulder at Frankie.
“Is she okay?” Rich whispered.
“She’ll be fine. She’s tough, aren’t ya’, Frank?”
She squeaked and buried her face in her gloved hands. Jack was getting worried. He couldn’t stand the bossy, arrogant, tough-as-nails niece, but he’d take her any day over the fragile woman trembling in the backseat. It made him want to reach out and comfort her, hold her, make everything okay.
The last time he’d felt that way he’d walked into the biggest mistake of his life. His relationship with Sandra went from comforting to a crazed sexual encounter in less than three minutes. Not something to base a long-lasting relationship on.
Neither was deception, which was the Franken Niece’s modus operandi. And what about that scene last night with the bondage? He balled his hand into a fist and tapped it against the window of the minivan. What was that about? Her way of completely humiliating him?
She hadn’t succeeded if that was her goal. She’d only added to his confusion about being attracted to two very different women who were actually the same person.
This whole situation was giving him a headache. What he wouldn’t give for a thick, juicy cheeseburger and a beer, followed by ten hours of sleep. It wasn’t like got much sleep last night, lying in bed, thinking about what almost happened with Tiger Lady.
Then he remembered: It was Frankie who’d tied him up and straddled him, igniting his body with need. She never would have gone through with it. It was all a big joke to her.
At least he’d sleep well tonight in a hotel room, protected from Frankie by a half inch of drywall. If there was one thing he was good at it was sleeping in hotel rooms. He’d sure as hell had enough practice.
“There’s The Lucky Lady Hotel.” The security guard pointed to a neon sign of a woman in a full-length evening gown showing considerable cleavage. “It’s fancy. The Kiwanis hosted their awards banquet there last month.”
“As long as they’ve got beds and room service.”
“No problem.”
They pulled into the circular drive. Fans crowded the entrance, screaming and waving signs.
“Word must have gotten out you were coming,” Rich said.
Frankie uttered a squawk from the backseat. Jack sucked in his breath. He needed to be alone right now more than he needed food, sleep, or a new life. Scanning the row of grinning faces, he caught sight of a little girl jumping up and down waving a Black Jack Banger foam hammer.
“Peter Mills, the manager, will be waiting for you,” Rich said. “He’s got it all set up.” He glanced over his shoulder at Frankie, then back at Jack. “Good luck.”
“Looks like I’ll need it, huh?” Jack got out of the minivan and opened the back door. “Come on, kid.”
She clung to the opposite door handle with both paws. Leaning into the car, he said, “Whaddya know? I got a coward on my hands. Is that right? You a coward, Frank?”
Something sparked in her eyes.
“Figures. Must run in the family since your uncle’s the biggest coward to walk the planet.” He pushed away from the car and turned to greet the fans. A car door slammed behind him. Out of the corner of his eye he spied Frankie step up beside him, her chin high, her lips curled into a forced smile.
That’s my girl.
“Out of the way! Out of the way!” a voice ordered from the back of the crowd. “This man’s here for a good night’s sleep, not to be pawed at. You had your chance at the mall.” A tall, skinny guy dressed in a pinstriped suit broke through the crowd. “Sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Peter Mills, manager of The Lucky Lady.”
“Nice to meet you, Peter.” Jack shook his hand. “This is Tatianna.”
“It’s so good to meet you, ma’am. The whole town watches the show every week. You’ve really livened things up.”
“Thank you.”
She actually spoke. That was a good sign.
“We’ve got the perfect room all ready for you.” Peter pushed through the crowd and led them into the lobby. “I panicked at first when Rich called but then my assistant reminded me that we had one very special opening.” He plucked a brochure from his breast pocket. “The pride of this establishment: The Bridal Suite.”
Frankie stumbled and Jack caught her elbow to keep her upright. Peter hadn’t noticed her reaction. A good thing. The hotel manager was obviously proud of his special offer.
“It was booked for the Keller wedding, but the kids got fed up with the family bickering and eloped. They were going to get married on the Ferris wheel during the hog races. Anyway, the townsfolk were very disappointed but Mr. Keller’s got a good attitude. He decided to renew his vows with the wife and not cancel the reception. It won’t be exactly quiet in the hotel tonight, but the bridal suite was designed with an extra layer of drywall to keep sound out, or keep it in.” Peter winked.
Frankie’s eyes widened and Jack steadied her with a firm grip on her arm. She stared at his hand as if it sprouted warts.
“The suite is in the west wing, second floor.” Peter led them up the stairs. “We have our special theme rooms up there. The Bridal Suite is in the corner for added privacy. I figure you two never did get a proper honeymoon, so we’re going to do our best to give you one tonight.”
He pushed open the door and Jack froze. People lined both sides of the hallway, applauding, cheering and howling encouragement. Talk about pressure. He wondered if they’d be waiting outside in the morning expecting a full report.
Frankie dug her heels into the thin industrial carpet.
He leaned close and whispered into her ear. “Come on, sweetheart. Remember what’s at the end of this hallway: a soft bed, room service, burgers, and champagne. Whatever you want. But you’ve gotta walk.”
She bit her lower lip and scanned the hall. Just when he thought she was going to make a run for it she looped her arm through his and lifted her chin.
“You two have fun. And don’t worry about the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign. We know not to bother you until at least noon.” Peter slapped Jack’s shoulder, urging him forward into the mass of fans.
Their applause grew to a deafening pitch. Jack nodded and offered his best smile. Frankie clutched his arm and picked up the pace. Her taste buds must be kicking into overdrive.
The fans waved corn stalks and tossed kernels like it was rice and Frankie and Jack had stepped out of church. What a mess this was going to be to clean up. Surely they had to know the marriage thing was an angle, that it wasn’t real. On the other hand, plenty of wrestlers and their real-life wives acted out scripted dramas in front of the cameras. He glanced over his shoulder at Peter. The man’s eyes lit up as if he hosted the president of the United States in his hotel. Jack would keep up the charade out of respect for the manager and the enthusiastic fans that lined the hall.
When they reached the door, he placed his key card in the slot and glanced back at the crowd. They cheered and whistled. Frankie pushed past him and disappeared into the room but he hesitated, savoring the moment. Okay, so this he might miss when he retired, just a little.
A blood-curdling scream from the room jolted him out of the moment. He raced inside, the door slamming behind him.
His jaw dropped at the sight of the erotic prints covering the walls, prints of men and women making love in very unusual ways. A massive, heart-shaped bed, covered in bright red satin sheets and pink pillowcases filled nearly t
he entire room. Two white silk robes with the words “Man” and “Wife” monogrammed in red lay at the foot of the bed. A mirror was strategically attached to the ceiling above the bed and a dozen heart-shaped candles lit the room with a warm glow. It smelled of roses and lilacs…and sin.
“I can’t stay here.” She backed up into him.
“It’s okay.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “We need a room and this is the only one in town. Food, remember? We can order some food and eat in peace.”
“This feels so…so…”
“Sacrilegious?”
She nodded.
“God will understand.”
“But this was set up for a real married couple. We can’t do this. It isn’t right.”
He untied the mask and slipped it off her face. Mascara dotted her cheeks and panic filled her eyes. He brushed his thumb across her pale skin. “The manager was generous enough to offer us the suite. It means a lot to him that he’s helping us out. It’s our responsibility is to accept graciously.”
She glanced down at the red shag carpet.
“Look at me.” With a crooked index finger he guided her gaze to meet his. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”
Not yet anyway.
He lowered his hand and cleared his throat. “I’ll call room service. You get changed.” He grabbed the “Wife” robe off the bed and handed it to her.
She plucked something off her head. “There’s corn in my hair,” she croaked.
“Go on. Take a bath. It’ll make you feel better.”
She stared up at him, eyes innocent, like a doe. What he wouldn’t give for a complete lack of conscience. Even with makeup smearing her face the woman was more attractive than a New York model.
INSANITY, a voice screeched in his head.
“I’ll get us something to eat,” he rasped.
Nodding, she stepped over the bathroom threshold and paused. She turned and shot him a tender smile. His heart skipped a beat.
“Thanks,” she said and closed the door.
Frankie glanced around the spacious bathroom and sighed with appreciation when she spotted the Jacuzzi-style tub. The designer of the suite probably figured it would be shared by two people.
Ambling to the tub, she flipped on the water. A pink bottle of Passionflower bubbles along with a loofah sponge and massage gloves were conveniently sitting on the edge of the tub. She added bubbles to the water and went to the sink, gasping at her reflection in the mirror.
“Heavens.” She placed her palms on her spotted cheeks and wanted to cry all over again. That would be twice in two days when she hadn’t cried in years.
What was happening to her? Her normally colorful eyes looked gray and bloodshot, her skin was pale and splotchy. No wonder Jack was being so nice to her. He thought she’d gone mad. First the temper tantrum, then her personality transformation from Tatianna the Tigress to Wendy the Wimp.
No matter. It wasn’t like he was attracted to her. She’d gotten that message loud and clear during last night’s blunder.
Her emotions were a tangled mess, her muscles bunched into knots above her shoulder blades and her stomach cried out for food. She could hardly wait to slip into the tub and pretend she was back home, safe and sound.
Far away from Black Jack Hudson. Although she had to admit he wasn’t acting like his usual hard-assed self.
Good thing she wasn’t wearing her contact lenses today. Strange that she didn’t seem to miss them or her glasses.
She stripped off the skimpy bikini and feathered skirt and hung them on the back of the door. Maxine’s efforts to beef up the costume with feathers and fluff had helped Frankie become more comfortable in her role as femme fatale feline. Or was she getting used to acting as Tatianna? No, that would never happen, not to conservative Frankie McGee.
Sinking into the cloud of bubbles, she let loose a moan that probably sounded like a woman reaching climax. Not that she would know since she’d accepted the fact she fell into that small percentage of women who couldn’t experience an orgasm. Just as well. Losing control in any way, shape or form completely unnerved her.
Then she remembered the scene outside the mall when she found out she’d been abandoned in corn country with Black Jack Hudson. “God, how embarrassing.”
She still couldn’t believe she’d unraveled in front of him. He must think her a certified flake. Why not? He already knew she was a consummate liar.
“Why do I care?” The steaming water swirled around her shoulder muscles, massaging away knots of tension. She took a deep breath and submersed herself beneath the fluffy bubbles. In the soundless underwater world she could shut out the nagging voice that berated her for staying in such a sinful hotel room with a man like Jack Hudson.
Peace. Quiet. The ultimate calm.
A crash penetrated her serenity and Frankie burst through the surface.
“Frankie!” Jack’s voice boomed.
She shook her head and rubbed at her eyes. The bubbles made them tear up, but she could still see Jack towering over her.
“What are you doing in here?” She scooped a thick mass of bubbles to cover her breasts. He couldn’t see her naked body, could he? Her nipples hardened at the thought. “How could you break in when I’m taking a bubble bath?”
“I called through the door but you didn’t answer. I thought you were hurt.”
“I was submerged.” She splashed water at her face to clear the soap from her eyes. Then she noticed the bathroom door hung crooked from its top hinge. “What happened to the door?”
“I busted it in.” He crossed his arms over his chest as if expecting her to criticize his protective actions.
Instead, something warmed inside her chest. He cared. He was really, truly worried. Either that or he didn’t want to add a drowned feline to his list of problems.
“I started to order room service but didn’t know what you wanted to drink,” he said. “So I called through the door and you didn’t answer.”
She rubbed her eyes again. Focusing on the sight in front of her she couldn’t help but burst out laughing. The satin robe gaped across his chest and exposed his muscular legs all the way up to his thighs. Luckily it concealed the more intimate parts of his body.
“What?” He puffed out his chest.
“Nice legs,” she chortled, with a lift of her eyebrow.
“It was either this, stay in my trunks and tights, or wear nothing at all.”
A choking cough interrupted her giggle attack at the thought of Jack’s magnificent naked body.
“You okay?” He reached out to her.
“Fine, fine.” She scooped up more bubbles for cover.
He snatched his hand back. “Right, sorry.” He stepped out of the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack. “How about something to drink?”
“Ginger ale’s fine.”
“Ginger ale? After a day like today?”
His tone rankled her. “Sorry I’m not as exciting as most of the women you hang out with, but booze and me don’t mix.”
“How about meat?”
“It doesn’t matter as long as it’s well done. I like my meat a little tough.”
A crash echoed outside the door.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. I’ll order us cheeseburgers. Well done.”
“Thanks.”
He closed the door but it kept popping open thanks to his emergency rescue.
“It won’t close all the way, sorry,” he called from the other side of the door.
“It’s okay.”
She sensed him walk away and relaxed a bit. She still couldn’t believe he’d broken down the door because he was worried about her.
“That was sweet,” she whispered, then caught herself. “Sweet” was not a word one used to describe Black Jack Hudson. Not in a million years.
She rubbed her calves and thighs with the coarse massage gloves and she finally started to relax. It must have been twenty minutes later when she heard a
soft tap at the door.
“Food’s here,” he said.
“Thanks, I’ll be right out.”
The heavenly bath couldn’t compete with the thought of a full stomach. She dried off, ran her fingers through her hair and tied the robe securely around her. Luckily hers was designed to fit a healthy-sized woman on the tall side. It draped to her ankles.
When she stepped out of the bathroom her toes sunk into the plush carpet. Soft music drifted across the room and her gaze landed on the bed. Jack was sitting on the very edge with a tray next to him. She hadn’t noticed until now that the bed was the ONLY piece of furniture in the room besides a chest of drawers and entertainment center.
“I guess we’ll have to eat on the bed,” he said, eyeing the tray of food.
“Either that or the floor.” She hesitated. It felt wrong, naughty.
Her stomach gurgled. She moved to the opposite side of the bed and shifted onto the thick comforter. “What have we got?”
“I tried for cheeseburgers, but they had other ideas.” He lifted the metal food warmer. A thick, juicy steak filled an eight-inch plate.
“Wow.”
“Yeah, they’re taking this honeymoon thing pretty seriously.” He didn’t make eye contact.
“I’m starving.” She snatched a knife and fork and went to work.
“Here’s your ginger ale.” He popped open the can and filled a glass.
“Thanks.” She took a sip and glanced around the room at the erotic prints. Heat flushed her cheeks. She refocused on the meat. She stabbed it with her fork, sliced off a healthy piece and stuck it in her mouth. The tender steak nearly melted on her tongue. She closed her eyes and savored the taste. She never thought eating could be such a treat.
The bed shifted and she opened her eyes. Jack ambled across the room and stared out the window at the festivities below. “Looks like quite a party down there.”
“Do you want to go?” she asked.
“Dressed like this?” He turned and flicked the neckline of the robe, which gaped in front.
“That’s true.” She smiled. He did look rather silly. And sexy.
She shoved a piece of steak into her mouth and bit hard.
