Artist colony? Dale glanced down at his date, supposing he should have known that a woman with such unusual views on romance wouldn't be the product of conventional bankers or business people.
"Dale, don't tell me Laura didn't mention her parents' artist colony, either?" Miranda asked.
Had he not been completely distracted with ideas about what the man of Laura's dreams was made of, Dale might not have looked so surprised. He might have rallied a smoother response, too. As it was, he just blinked stupidly, leaving the question hanging in the sudden silence.
Laura stepped into the breach. "Discussions about parents fall in the reality category, Miranda, and what I do around here—" she raised her flute to indicate the ballroom and beyond "—is pure fantasy."
"Are you telling me you don't do reality in your personal relationships, Laura?"
"A bedding consultant can't create wonders like the Wedding Wing and the Naughty Nuptials without inspiration."
Laura lifted her gaze and flashed him a smile that made him feel like she'd never smiled at another man in her life.
Miranda eyed them skeptically. "So you won't be hosting your own wedding in your new addition any time soon?"
Before Laura had a chance to answer, Tyler asked, "Doesn't our bedding consultant believe in marriage?"
Laura laughed, an easy, real laugh, and Dale was getting practiced at telling the difference. "Of course I believe in marriage. But I also believe in romance and in enjoying every second of the way to the altar. Dale calls me a romantic idealist, and I have to admit the description fits."
Just last night Laura had explained her fixed views about the man of her dreams, yet here she contradicted herself by idealizing flings. Why was he getting the sense that she had something to prove to her old classmate?
He turned the thought over in his mind, tested the possibility to see how it fit.
And it fit, damn it.
Laura might not have been able to forget about him after he'd left town, but something had prompted her to write that invitation. As he watched these two old schoolmates subtly interrogate each other, he suspected that reason was more involved than wanting eight orgasms a night.
About the last thing Laura wanted to do was talk about Miranda, but after two orgasms that left her legs vibrating so she could barely move, how could she deny Dale anything? Especially when he sat behind her, drawing the brush through her hair with such soothing strokes.
She decided one good turn deserved another, and to her surprise, she didn't mind. For once she'd shone instead of looking like a hayseed in front of Miranda. Her welcome reception had gone off better than she'd dared hope. Her guests were content. The press seemed receptive. The Naughty Nuptials was officially underway. So far so good.
Forcing her eyes open, Laura gazed out into the bedroom. Tonight she'd remembered to throw open the doors, and the waterfall splashed steadily, the sound only adding to her drowsy feeling of contentment.
With the starlight bathing Lovers' Lagoon in a wash of silver, her senses lulled into the misty perfection of the suite and of the man who sat silent behind her, his hard body contrasting sharply with the gentle attention he lavished on her with the brush.
"Go ahead, ask your questions, Dale." She would indulge him the way he'd indulged her since crawling between the sheets.
Fair was fair, after all.
"I got the impression tonight that you and Miranda weren't the best of friends," he said.
"We weren't any kind of friends. Just schoolmates in the same year and dorm. A lot of the same classes, too."
"I thought it might be a little more than that."
Laura laughed softly. "A little, maybe."
He didn't reply, and she thought he was waiting for her to elaborate.
"Why so curious?" she asked. "Does my history with Miranda really make any difference?"
"No difference at all." He dragged the brush to a halt in midstroke. "I want to know more about you. We've known each other for two years and you've never mentioned your family."
"You've never mentioned yours, either, Dale," she said. "We generally talk about work. Or flirt."
"I flirted! You stopped flirting when I asked you out."
"That's true."
"I want to talk about more than work and sex. I want to know you, Laura. I want to know more than what sort of atmosphere you're creating in the Wedding Wing and where I have to touch you to get you to breathe out those little sighs that make me crazy."
A tingle zipped through her at his admission. She wanted to know why he suddenly wanted to know, but she couldn't go here. Not with Dale. Not when she was so wrapped up in having sex with him that the slightest push would have her thinking romantically idealistic things that were off-limits.
Instead she asked, "Isn't talking about this kind of stuff against the fling rules?"
"Nope. It's like show-and-tell. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
"How do you know I'm interested?"
"We're naked, Laura." He exhaled a breath that managed to sound thoroughly offended, yet at the same time imply that his reasoning should be obvious. "You just came and so did I—"
"I came twice."
"All the more reason to play the game. It's polite."
That made her laugh. "Okay. I wouldn't want to breach the rules of casual sex."
He ground his softening erection into her backside. "Are you so sure this is casual?"
For him, yes. But for her unfortunately, the answer could all too easily be no. And leave it to a man experienced with women not only to notice, but to call her on it He was talking about erections and sex, but Laura hadn't ever had casual sex before, only committed sex where her emotions were involved and futures were possible. While she was slinging around her share of bad girl attitude, it wasn't without effort.
She had no future with Dale. That was why she'd nixed a fling with him from the start. He would be leaving town after the grand opening, and she couldn't afford to forget that. She was vulnerable to her emotions and had to reserve her idealistic views about romance for her work at Falling Inn Bed and for relationships that had potential futures.
Romance and sex just seemed a natural fit It was one of the things she loved best about her work—-helping couples explore their relationships. Of course not all of them wound up in commitment, but the ones Laura dealt closely with usually ended in marriage and happily-ever-after.
Dale had been the exception, and one she hoped she didn't live to regret "I'm at a bit of a disadvantage here, Dale. I'm not all that familiar with casual. I'm trying to stay focused on the here and now so I do this fling right Sharing our personal lives when we haven't discussed them before seems pointless."
"Sure you just don't want to talk about Miranda?"
Dale was entirely too perceptive for her own good. "Perhaps."
Dropping the brush onto the mattress, he leaned back against the pillows and gathered her against him. "I've got an idea, Laura. Do you agree that I'm familiar enough with flings for the two of us?"
"Absolutely."
"Then why don't you follow my lead on this. I know that you're looking for the man of your dreams and I respect that Let's just enjoy what we have together and not overanalyze the details. I won't steer you wrong. You have my word."
He pressed his mouth to the top of her head, a casual gesture that felt right. She'd known this man for a long time. He might be a bad boy, but he was also a gentleman. If he promised to steer her right then she could trust him to take the lead.
"All right, Dale. Show me yours," she said softly, rewarded when he tightened his arms around her.
"I'm a late-in-life baby with two brothers over a decade older than me. They're both in construction. My patents, too."
"Your mom?"
"Works as the office manager of the family company."
"But you don't work for them?"
Dale shrugged. "I did through high school and college. The family company is based out of San Fr
ancisco and does most of its work there. ADF uses them whenever we've got crews in the area. But I wanted to see the world and not be bothered with the hassles of owning a business."
How much more of a reminder did she need about why emotions and sex couldn't mix with this man? He was a jet-setter. She had a life in Niagara Falls. "So what do your parents think about you traveling the world and not working in their business?"
"They'd like me to be a part of it, but they don't need me. My brothers have everything under control. They've already got my nephews and nieces helping out on different jobs and gearing up my dad for retirement."
"Sounds like a nice normal family. Where does your need to see the world fit in?"
He chuckled, a warm sound that filtered through her, feeling slow, warm, perfect. "I'm special. The family's been catering to me since the day I was born."
"You were a little brat?"
"A little brat prince. There's a difference."
Now it was her turn to laugh. "Well, that explains a lot. You're so used to everyone kissing the ground you walk on. No wonder you couldn't get over the fact that I'd turned you down."
"Do you think that's the only reason I want you?"
She wiggled her bottom, so his fading erection wedged silkily between her cheeks. "Not the only reason."
His laughter ruffled across her ear, sending a tingle of memory through her, reminding her of the way his hands felt on her skin when he touched her, the way he felt sinking that rock-hard erection deep inside, the way she recalled all these things just by hearing his laughter.
"I've been around a long time without making love to you, Laura. It's given me a chance to see past your beautiful face and your delicious body. Will you be surprised if I tell you how much I appreciate the way you make everyone around you feel like they're important? How you make your guests feel welcome, like Falling Inn Bed is a home away from home?"
"Yes," the word slipped from her lips on a sigh. And she was surprised. By how this man could talk so openly about the way he felt, how he could make her tingle from head to toe with his whiskey-voiced admissions.
But, perhaps she shouldn't be surprised. She'd been watching him charm everyone around him for the past two years. His easy charm was simply a part of the man he was, part of what had attracted her to him.
"Does it surprise you to know how much I like surprising you?" he asked. "I do, you know."
"Good thing. I'd feel terrible if I bored you after only a few days. We still have weeks left."
"You could never bore me, Laura." He breathed the words and she shivered again. "That's why I want to know all about you. So tell me how the daughter of art colony owners grows up to become a bedding consultant of a romance resort?"
"Just lucky, I guess," she said lightly. "Okay, my life in a nutshell…I'm the only daughter of two artists. My dad's a sculptor and my mom's a painter."
"Did she teach art at your school?"
Laura shook her head. "I'm afraid she was a little too avant-garde for Westfalls. It's a very conservative place."
"Which would explain the hidden erotic paintings."
"It does. My mom took a break from her career to work as CFO. One of her perks was my tuition. It's a hideously expensive school, and at the time my parents were funneling most of their earnings from their commissions back into their artist community to keep it running while it developed a name. My mom wouldn't compromise on my education, though." She laughed softly. "And all I wanted to do was go to public school."
"Is this where Miranda comes in?"
"I didn't move in her circles. My parents weren't living hand to mouth, but they were different. Typical artists. Wrapped up in their work and completely oblivious to keeping up with the Joneses and all that."
She paused, considered the best way to explain Miranda's influence in her life, without going into all the gory details that she didn't like to think about herself.
"Miranda is…well, Miranda. She's like the town princess. She's got the name, the money and the standing in the community. It used to irritate her whenever people compared us."
"Why did people compare you?"
Laura knew questions would invariably wind up here, a place she'd made peace with only because she'd accepted that she didn't have answers…
A place that made her feel as if she wasn't good enough.
She couldn't share this with Dale. He wanted to know about her, not deal with her emotional baggage. Her past was past. Over.
But one of the things Laura had learned through the years was that no matter what people thought of her or her family, only she had the power to feel good or bad about herself. If people chose to judge her, the problem was theirs. Right now she chose to feel good, which meant not dredging up a past no one could change. She might have to deal with Miranda at her grand opening, but she wouldn't invite their past into her present And especially not into bed with Dale.
"Miranda and I were the same age and in the same year at school," she said simply. "My mom worked there so I naturally drew attention. You've got to understand, Dale. Niagara Falls might look big, but it has a small-town mentality."
He gave a gruff laugh. "So I noticed. The neighboring towns, too."
His dry tone made her smile. "I still don't understand why you're so put out about rave reviews."
Hooking his ankles around hers, he hitched her higher, rested his chin on her shoulder. "I didn't know it would bother me. It does."
"Why?"
He shrugged and she could feel flexing muscles warm and supple along her back. "I'm only concerned with what one woman thinks about me."
It wasn't what she'd expected to hear. He was getting too personal tonight, surprising her with intimacies that she didn't think should be a part of casual sex.
Maybe she was tired from a sleepless night or keyed up from the stress of the events. Either way, all this talk about their lives made it too easy to think of him as something more than a fling. Exactly what she couldn't let happen.
"Why did you let Miranda think we'd been dating for two years?" he asked.
Laura was suddenly glad her hair covered her face so he couldn't see her blush. She'd been asking herself the same question since the words had popped out of her mouth. Worse still, she'd done the exact same thing when Miranda had arrived—pretended to have a date when she'd had no idea whether Dale would show up alone or accept her invitation if he did.
"Old habits die hard, I suppose," she replied honestly. "I couldn't seem to come up with a way to correct her that wouldn't sound like I'd just picked you up for this event."
"You did pick me up for this event. Did inviting me have something to do with keeping up appearances for Miranda's sake?"
Ouch. There was no censure in his voice, just curiosity, but the question came completely out of left field.
"Why would you think that?"
"You had no problem turning me down because you didn't do flings. I wondered why you suddenly changed the rules."
"I told you." She tried not to sound defensive but didn't think she managed it "I expected to stop thinking about you after you left I didn't The grand opening seemed the perfect time to explore our chemistry and get it out of the way."
"And you need to get it out of the way because thinking about me interferes with the search for the man of your dreams?"
Okay, there was subtext in that question, but Laura didn't know what it was. They'd already had this conversation and she wasn't sure what he was looking for.
Twisting in his arms, she tipped her head back to see his face. The star-washed darkness sliced across his features, casting shadows along his stubbled jaw, making his expression harder than their afterglow should allow.
"Did I offend you by leaving our relationship open to interpretation?" she asked. "If I did, I'm sorry. Miranda isn't part of my life anymore and I didn't see the need to get into awkward explanations, especially with Tyler around."
"Our relationship isn't anyone's business."
/> "Then what's bothering you?"
He lifted his hand to her face, brushed away stray hairs from her cheek, traced the long strands behind her shoulders. Something in the gesture seemed tender, out of sync with the moment when there were questions between them, uncertainty.
"The little brat prince grew up to be a big brat prince." He flashed her a grin that eased the moment, dissolving her insides into jelly in the process. "I realized that I don't want to be your trophy date. I want you to want me for myself."
"I do."
"Then prove it."
He dipped her backward so quickly that she gasped. Her hair swept out behind her and suddenly his mouth was on hers, kissing the sound from her lips, giving her a chance to convince him.
Laura did. In the darkness she proved to Dale that what she felt for him had everything to do with her and nothing to do with a woman who'd always had the ability to make her feel substandard.
But much later, as she lay curled in his arms while he slept, sated and wide-awake long after she should have passed out, Laura stared into the starlit darkness and wondered if her reasons had been as clear-cut as she'd said and if she was being honest with Dale, and herself.
When the telephone rang at the crack of dawn, Laura grabbed for it and mumbled a sleepy greeting.
"Laura," Annabelle said. "The throne room. Now."
An invitation to Ms. J.'s office in that tone was more than enough to awaken Laura and shoot her adrenaline into the red zone. "On my way."
Slipping the phone back onto the cradle, she glanced over at Dale, who burrowed into the covers and didn't awaken. After pressing a kiss to his shoulder, she slipped out of bed and hurriedly got dressed, refusing to speculate on what had happened to warrant this meeting. She wouldn't borrow trouble, especially when she walked into Ms. J.'s office and knew by her co-workers' expressions that trouble had found her.
"What's wrong?" She braced herself against the doorway.
"We've just had some news," Ms. J. began with a look of such careful neutrality that Laura actually held her breath. "Not necessarily bad news, but a change of plans."
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