Hot Sheets

by Jeanie London

  He hadn't exactly lost his best friend…but seeing Nick so obviously satisfied and apparently missing nothing about his bachelor days made Dale stop to consider.

  Could he be content with the same woman in his bed every night?

  When Laura laughed her silvery laugh, a sound that filtered through him with more potency than the champagne, Dale thought he could—if that woman was Laura. He'd have never guessed that Nick would ever meet a woman to satisfy him, yet years had passed and Nick still seemed as wrapped up in his beautiful wife as he'd been since they'd met.

  Dale glanced at the woman who had his thoughts traveling down unfamiliar roads, and for the first time all night managed to keep his gaze above her neck. The light caught and held her eyes. Her mouth tipped up when she smiled, a full, sensuous look that brought to mind kissing.

  Who knew he'd still be pining for this woman after two years? He wasn't generally one who liked banging his head against a wall, and Laura had made it clear he wasn't what she wanted in a man. Yet he'd kept right on lusting.

  And he wasn't sorry. If every night was like last night…every morning like this morning…every afternoon like this afternoon…he was all for persistence.

  Even losing control in the Lovers' Lagoon hadn't been bad—surprising, but not bad His control had always been a given, predictable. But not with Laura. She challenged him, tested him and even managed to make a boring social event enjoyable when she laughed that chiming laugh, and told everyone in the room what a brilliant architect he was.

  Maybe he shouldn't have laughed so hard at Nick. He'd obviously invited karma to laugh back at him. For the very first time he had feelings for a woman, and she was dead convinced he wasn't suitable.

  You're the man of my fantasies, not the man of my dreams.

  "Don't you think so, Dale?" Laura asked, obviously assuming he'd been following the conversation.

  But Dale didn't have a clue what she was talking about, so he nodded, taking his fifty-fifty chance of nailing the right response. And when she flashed that high-beam smile, he decided that karma might be on his side, for tonight at least.

  "Then let's migrate in that direction," Laura said, and he forced his attention on her words rather than the way that shimmery pink fabric clung to her breasts when she motioned toward the bar. "Delia and Jackson got cornered by our local reporter and, unless I miss my guess, he'll hang on to them for a bit. I see the Knights are free, though. Troy is with a different branch of the service, Major General, but I think you'll enjoy meeting him."

  By now, Dale had the basic gist of the conversation so he located the couple in question and led Laura and the Wallaces across the ballroom. Tyler joined their party along the way, keeping pace at Laura's other side to discuss the video footage he'd been shooting of the event.

  They finally reached the Knights and congregated around the couple while Laura performed the introductions.

  "Major General and Mrs. Wallace are the parents of our bride, and I thought two military couples might enjoy meeting each other."

  After a round of greetings, the major general and Troy Knight talked shop, or rank and barracks as it was, steering the conversation away from the current conflicts but making sure to include the group. Laura seemed pleased these two officers appeared to hit it off and there was no missing that Mrs. Wallace approved of her military wife counterpart.

  Miranda Knight was a vision of impeccable high society dressed in a beaded blue gown that matched her sapphire eyes, a blue so unlike Laura's as to be night and day. She shifted that deep gaze between him and Laura, and though her expression never changed, Dale sensed she was checking them out.

  Not so long ago, he'd have checked her out back, husband or not But tonight, he just leaned closer to Laura, giving into an unfamiliar possessive feeling, He couldn't have cared less how long they stood here talking. He recalled Nick trying to explain this very phenomenon, and at the time it had only explained why Nick was no longer any fun at parties.

  Now Dale scrambled to remember what his buddy had said, knowing that Nick would've laughed himself stupid if he could have seen Dale now.

  When Delia and Jackson arrived with the local reporter in tow, they escorted the major general and Mrs. Wallace to a family photo shoot in the atrium, leaving him and Laura alone with the photojournalist and the Knights.

  "Any chance we can sneak away for a few minutes?" he whispered to Laura. "Don't you need to check on some details in the kitchen or something?" He'd drag her into some sheltered alcove for a steamy kiss…

  Laura managed to make the moment theirs with a glance, but Dale's hopes went bust when Tyler began to grill the Hottest Honeymoon couple.

  "Troy, you mentioned you were the son of a career military officer," Tyler said. "How did you and Miranda meet?"

  "She visited the naval base I was stationed at with one of her college courses, and I lucked into being assigned as her tour guide." Troy smiled at his wife, one of those I've-only-got-eyes-for-you looks that Dale was getting familiar with.

  "He talked me into having our wedding here," Miranda added.

  "So Laura coordinated your wedding?" Tyler asked.

  Something in Laura's expression shuttered. Dale brought the champagne flute to his lips to occupy himself so he looked as though he was doing something more than just staring at this woman like some lovesick fool.

  "No, I didn't, Tyler," she said. "I was so tied up with the design of the Wedding Wing that it would have been impossible to attend to the details properly, so I scheduled my assistant full-time on the project To my understanding, Miranda and Troy were very pleased with the result."

  "Everything went off without a hitch," Troy said. "Even Miranda's parents agreed. And that's saying a lot."

  "Your parents tough to please, Miranda?" Tyler asked.

  She eyed the photojournalist coolly over the rim of her flute. "Not really. But any event involving a Prescott tends to draw media attention around Niagara Falls. My parents prefer the attention to be positive."

  Dale watched the silver stud in Tyler's brow travel halfway up his forehead.

  "Prescott?" he asked. "As in Senator Let's-Free-America-from-Dependence-on-Foreign-Oil Prescott?"

  Miranda nodded. "My grandfather."

  "So before meeting the lieutenant commander here, you were Miranda Prescott?"

  "Miranda Ford. My mother is the Prescott."

  Dale gave a low whistle. "I'll say you needed your wedding to go smoothly."

  "We considered having the wedding out of town to avoid the media but then decided leaving would only draw attention to why we'd left," Troy explained. "Once we decided to stay, Falling Inn Bed seemed like the perfect place to get married. Miranda took a little convincing but the staff proved top-notch."

  Dale wasn't surprised. He'd watched the running of this operation up close for nearly two years now, and they were a class act from the word go.

  "We were sorry the infamous bedding consultant couldn't take care of us," Miranda added.

  Dale found that downright strange.

  He knew from experience that Laura oversaw every aspect of whatever project she dipped her fingers into. She'd nearly driven him insane with her attention to detail, and he didn't think there could be too many people in the ballroom tonight who hadn't heard of powerful Senator Prescott. Hosting a wedding for the senator's granddaughter must have been a serious coup for the inn.

  He also knew the real work on the Wedding Wing hadn't started until he'd brought his team onto the property. Sure, there'd been months of debates over the plans before then, but they'd been nothing compared to Laura dogging his heels to make sure every detail lived up to her expectations.

  "I was sorry to pass along Miranda and Troy's wedding." Somehow Laura's regret didn't ring entirely true, and Dale glanced down to find her smile strained around the edges.

  Tyler shifted his gaze between Troy and Miranda curiously. "Senator Prescott didn't have any trouble with this place being a romance resort?"<
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  "My grandfather values a strong family unit. That's always been part of his platform," Miranda said smoothly.

  "Given what I've read about the senator, if he'd had a problem with Falling Inn Bed in his town, he'd have rallied the troops against it and shut it down."

  Dale would have guessed as much himself, but Troy just shrugged as if a high-profile life with a politician was all in a day's work.

  "My grandfather also supports renewed interest in our town. We need industries that generate tourist dollars. If nothing else, Laura's hotel is a part of our local landscape."

  Dale had never considered what it must have been like to have a politician in the family. He recalled when Nick had accepted a presidential appointment to the national board of historic preservation a number of years back and the annoying amount of media attention the appointment had drawn. The firm had been under such close scrutiny during Nick's fifteen minutes in the spotlight that even he'd had to curtail his activities to avoid finding his name plastered in some newspaper.

  He could understand why Miranda's delivery would be so articulate. She'd obviously had practice performing for the press. He also didn't miss the reference to Laura's hotel. That wasn't an entirely accurate statement as Miranda had learned last night at dinner, so he had to wonder what she meant, and why Laura suddenly seemed so guarded.

  He had the wild urge to slip his arm around her and pull her close, to press a kiss on her temple, her cheek, her jaw, until the tension he saw there faded. Dale knew which pub-lie display of affection would be too personal for this situation. These people were guests, not friends, and while he was Laura's date for this event, that role had boundaries of professional behavior outside the Castaway Honeymoon Isle.

  "We were delighted to host an event for the senator's family," Laura said with that fixed smile. "Doubly so to have the opportunity to invite Miranda and Troy back as our honeymoon couple. And she's right about Falling Inn Bed. The locals are very protective and supportive of our town history and legends."

  Laura was as articulate as the senator's granddaughter, and Dale knew women well enough to sense there was more between these two than one event at Falling Inn Bed.

  "Laura," he said, following up on his hunch. "Am I right to assume' that you know Miranda from outside of the inn?"

  "Assume, Dale?" Miranda didn't give Laura a chance to answer. "Does that mean Laura never mentioned me? Just how long have you two been together?"

  "We met well over two years ago," Laura said, leaving everyone to guess if they'd been dating for the duration.

  "And you've never told your beau about me?" Her tone implied she was hurt by the omission. "Well, Dale. I'll fill you in myself. Laura and I attended Westfalls Academy together. We were in the same house in the same year all through school, until we parted ways for high school. Isn't that right, Laura?"

  Laura nodded, that smile etched in place.

  "That's why I was so surprised last night to hear about Laura's partnership in this hotel," Miranda went on. "I knew she worked here but…well, I didn't think I'd been gone from Niagara Falls that long. Clearly I'm out of the loop."

  "We've got three weeks home on this trip to do some catching up," Troy said.

  Miranda nodded. "So you own a romance resort, Laura, you're dating the architect of your new addition and the press hails you as a visionary. I leave town and look at all these exciting things that happen."

  Dale could sense the undercurrent between these two. He also knew Laura well enough to guess she must have a reason for letting everyone believe they'd been dating a lot longer than they had. He looked forward to finding out what it was. Until then, he'd keep his mouth shut.

  "Lots of excitement in town lately, Miranda," Laura agreed pleasantly. "Folks have been waiting for the Wedding Wing's grand opening."

  "Will your parents be visiting for any events?"

  "No, they won't."

  Miranda frowned over her champagne glass. "I'm surprised. I thought they'd want to share in your shining moment."

  "They've been sharing all along." Laura gave a light laugh. "You know my parents. Hands-on and behind the scenes. They've been helping me conceptualize the honeymoon suites."

  Dale hadn't known this. Not once in the entire time that he'd worked with Laura had she ever mentioned parents. He eyed her over the rim of his glass, watched her and Miranda exchange a neutral glance.

  Miranda passed off her glass to her husband. "Your mother must have helped arrange for the loan of that gorgeous Mireille Marceaux in your Wedding Wing lobby. I can't imagine how else you got Westfalls's headmistress to pull it out of storage. She wouldn't even acknowledge its existence while we were in school."

  "My mom keeps telling me Ms. Cecilia is mellowing out in her old age so I told her to prove it" Laura smiled, and Dale recognized this smile as a real one. "The whole theme of Falling Inn Bed sort of fits with the painting, don't you think?"

  Miranda laughed, a sultry sound that was also the closest thing Dale had heard to an unaffected response from the woman since they'd met. "Agreed. It's a lot better on your lobby wall than hidden in a storage room at Westfalls, where the students devote their formative years to speculating on its 'inappropriateness.'"

  "Did its 'inappropriateness' live up to your expectations?"

  "I must admit it's a bit of a disappointment," Miranda said. "The painting's gorgeous, of course, but I'd imagined something more than a seminude wrapped in mist."

  Laura laughed and two things struck Dale in that moment. The first was a sharp memory of making love to Laura wrapped in mist last night. Such a sharp memory, in fact, that he had to shift from foot to foot to ease the sudden pressure of a seam in the wrong place.

  The second was that while he'd been working with Laura a long time, he didn't have a clue about her personal life. She'd never once mentioned parents or any family in town, and he'd never once thought to ask.

  You're a bad boy. Bad boys drive fast cars and chase faster women.

  Touch£. He'd been interested in Laura for one reason and one reason only. Looked as though he'd have to correct this oversight if he wanted to be considered a serious contender.

  Which came as an unexpected third realization.

  He did want to be a serious contender.

  Obsession or something more? Dale still couldn't say, but all his sleepless surprise last night, all those unanswered questions today, suddenly made sense.

  Despite the fact that Laura had convinced herself he couldn't be anything more than a man of her fantasies. Despite the fact that he didn't have a clue how to prove he could be more. Despite the logistic problems of their work situations.

  He wanted to be the man of Laura's dreams.

  Chapter Ten

  "Sounds like there's a story here, ladies," Tyler said. "What's the deal with the painting?"

  When a waiter walked by, Dale exchanged his empty champagne glass for a full one, knowing he'd never been this thirsty in his life. The cool drink went down hard, and that had nothing to do with the quality of the label and everything to do with Laura, who'd managed to turn his night upside down, hell, his life.

  And she didn't have a damn clue.

  She chatted with her guests, the ultimate professional, ex-pertly sidestepping past history with her old schoolmate and maneuvering the conversation back to her grand opening.

  She didn't have a clue that her invitation had thrown his life into upheaval, had made him lose sleep, lose control.. .and had landed him in a situation he had no idea how to handle.

  "You've heard of Mireille Marceaux before?" she asked.

  Troy nodded. "Miranda has filled me in on all the local legends."

  "A French painter from the latter half of the last century," Tyler added. "She's best known for her erotic paintings, although posthumously renowned for her landscapes, too."

  "Very good, gentlemen," Laura said. "After her death, she bequeathed her estate to Westfalls Academy."

  "They built a house
and named it for her," Miranda added "The dorm Laura and I shared was there."

  "As part of her estate, she left a number of paintings. Some were landscapes of our area, which they display in the Marceaux House. Others were erotic, like the Falling Woman!"

  "From what my mother has told me, some term in the will meant the school couldn't sell any of the paintings. Of course that left them with a problem about what to do with them. They could display the landscapes, of course, but the erotic paintings weren't exactly appropriate for the student body. So they were sealed up in storage and left to gather dust."

  "And like Miranda said," Troy added, "to inspire class after class to imagine the forbidden images on those canvases."

  "Until my mom convinced the headmistress to loan me one to display during the grand opening," Laura said. "I thought it would bring the Wedding Wing luck."

  Miranda arched a dark brow. "Which raises the question, Laura-how did you know what the paintings looked like?"

  Laura tipped her flute in salute. "It pays to have a family member on staff."

  Dale latched on to this detail about Laura's personal life. Miranda was Senator Prescott's granddaughter while Laura's mother had been on the payroll at the exclusive school they attended. Did that explain the undercurrent he felt between these two?

  "So what's the tie between Westfalls Academy and Mireille Marceaux?" Tyler asked "From what I've heard, no one knew anything about her. Her work was hailed among the golden Manhattan set, but she didn't run with the crowd."

  "That's the mystery," Laura said. "No one knew anything about her life, let alone of any connection to West-falls. And believe me, people have spent the past fifty years trying to find one. We've heard everything from trysts with a married lover who lived in the area, to visiting an illegitimate child from said lover."

  "Maybe it reminded her of her native France. Who knows?" Miranda said offhand. "After her death though, it was discovered that she owned property on the river. It took years to go through probate, but Laura's parents eventually acquired it to open their artist colony."