Lust in Translation

by Jenna Bayley-Burke

  “This has stopped feeling scary and just feels silly.”

  “That’s because Matilda likes you.” He’d give anything for his night vision lens. Too bad it was still in Paris.

  “Very funny.”

  “It’s hot over here.”

  In the display he caught Jaime’s expression, brows knit and lips pursed. “We should figure out how they’re doing it and then expose that haunted hotel.”

  “I think you’ve managed to find friendly spirits.” Both times.

  “Stop it. Give me the phone so I can look at the ceiling. I think the cold is coming from there.”

  He changed a few settings and took another shot, grinning as the glow behind Jaime took on a pink hue. Without her terrified expression, it would make a great picture.

  She screamed and ran into him so hard he nearly toppled over. The phone clattered to the ground, the light glowing upward like a vortex. She clutched him with one hand and batted the camera away with another. He wrapped his arms around her to keep her still.

  “J’aime, what happened?”

  “There’s someone else in here. They pushed me.”

  He tried to bend down for the phone, but she wouldn’t let him. He took a series of shots around the room, but didn’t notice anyone or any secret doors. Though downstairs the doors had been in the floor.

  The knock on the door jolted them both. It inched open, light seeping into the room. Scanning the room quickly, he didn’t see any other doors. But then they wouldn’t be obvious, would they?

  Coyote Cate stepped through the door, a mischievous grin lifting the papery skin of her pale cheeks. “Any luck?”

  “Someone was in here with us.” Jaime released him and turned on Cate. She squared her shoulders, indignation narrowing her eyes. “The squeaking bed and cold are all fun and games, but you can’t push people. It’s pitch black in here. Someone could get hurt. One lawsuit could close this entire operation.”

  Cate nodded, still grinning. “Of course we want all of our customers to get what they came for. Mathilda can be a little overbearing, and for that I apologize. She still prides herself on being a matchmaker.”

  Jaime shifted her gaze from their misguided tour guide to him and rolled her eyes. He couldn’t help but laugh, even as Jaime screwed up her face. He caught a lucky break, because she turned her ire on their unflappable host.

  “Did you push me?” With her hands on her hips and her shoulders squared like that, she looked pretty hot.

  “Of course not, dear.”

  “What is this, some kind of magicians-never-tell-their-secrets thing? I want to know how you made one area in the room cold.”

  “Mathilda did that, dear. It’s how she lets you know she’s present.”

  Jaime raised her hands and shook them, frustration coming off her in waves. “You cannot lock people in rooms like you did. It’s imprisonment. Tell me how you do the cold air thing and I won’t go to the police.”

  “But the door wasn’t locked, dear.” Maybe Cate was an apparition too, because she didn’t bat anymore eyelashes than normal at Jaime’s tirade.

  “I heard you lock it.”

  Cate shook her head. “I closed the door, but that was all. Did you try the handle? If it was locked it must have been―”

  “Not Mathilda again.” Jamie spoke through her clenched jaw. Her chest rose and fell with each harsh breath. “This trickery may be spooky fun for some people, but I don’t appreciate being assaulted just so you get a story about a ghost.”

  Jaime marched across the hallway and straight down the stairs. Xavier followed, not sure if she was more annoyed by the other-wordly shove or by Coyote Cate not giving up the secrets to their illusion.

  …

  “The only excuse for texting 9-1-1 is if you or Papa is dead.” Xavier ignored the stares from the other tourists as he looked through the sad lingerie selection at the brothel. The problem with wearing your phone on your ear was that people often thought you were a lunatic talking to yourself.

  “I plan on killing him, so it’s warranted. He’s designing shoes all of the sudden. Black shoes. For summer!” Cellophane crinkled across the connection. It must be bad if Natalie was hitting the chocolate.

  “He’s designed shoes before.” In fact, the old man had a knack for mixing style and comfort. “He wants your launch to be successful. He’s probably trying to help. Maybe if you asked―”

  “I can’t ask him anything.” Her voice seethed with resigned indignation. “Everything is a screaming match.”

  “So stop screaming.” An elderly man gave him a cross look and he wished Jaime had come with him to retrieve her phone so it at least appeared he was talking to someone other than himself. But as soon as she’d realized the phone was still in Mathilda’s room, she’d deigned it his responsibility to fetch it.

  Plastic crinkled again. “You’re not going to help me with him, are you?”

  “Not this time. You should buy a couple of chocolate brioche and sit down with him. He’ll listen until he’s done with his treat. And then have one for me, because I’ve only found one decent pastry since I left.”

  He smiled, thinking of Jaime’s rugelach. The culinary experience on this trip had improved a hundred fold since picking her up. She brightened the entire adventure.

  “Xavier, I don’t feel bad for you. I’m stuck here with a man who has the design sense of a blind goat, while you’re working on your tan.”

  “I do my best.” He lifted the sleeve of his T-shirt and noticed the tan line. He’d have to go shirtless tomorrow to make up for it. Wherever they went next needed to have a pool so he could get in a swim and take in Jaime in her bikini.

  “Where are you now, my nomadic brother?”

  “Actually, I’m in a brothel.” He listened to Natalie laugh herself silly and decided against the lingerie. It looked fine, but the quality wasn’t there. He had to find an actual city, maybe some place that would have dressing rooms where she could try things on for him. Now there was an idea.

  He paid for a fresh box of condoms. The madam smiled and waved at him as he left.

  “Don’t use a Marie-Chloe credit card,” Natalie managed once she got a hold of herself.

  “I know how to be discreet.” She gasped and he had to laugh. Thank goodness the streets seemed to be deserted after dusk. “It was a haunted brothel, and I wound up in a ghost’s bedroom.”

  “For goodness sake, why?”

  “To capture a photo of the ghost.” He quickened his pace, wanting to get back to Jaime and his camera to see if he’d gotten anything interesting.

  “I thought you promised Maman you wouldn’t do that anymore.” Her voice held a sing-song quality he hadn’t heard since she’d stopped tattling on him.

  “I was fifteen, and that was for your benefit, I’ll have you know. She didn’t say I couldn’t take them, just that I couldn’t show them to you ever again. You’ll be sorry for making such a fuss when everyone is talking about my ghost pictures and you can’t see them.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be the most popular dinner party guest in Paris because of your photos. No one wants to see vacation pictures. Especially of the stuff you’re seeing. What was that one you sent me the other day? Cars standing upright in a field? And who took the one of you swinging the sledgehammer in a blacksmith’s shop?”

  “Jaime. She pointed out I’m never in any pictures. She took some today at the horse sanctuary. I’ll send you one later.”

  “She’s still with you? I thought you would have had her on a plane by now.”

  “She’s actually a lot of fun.” In so many ways. He loved teasing her and showing her new things, both in bed and out of it.

  “La, la, la, la, la. I do not want to hear about your fun.”

  “She’s not like that. She’s a teacher, not some social climber with an agenda.”

  “Are you saying you actually like her?” The candy-wrapper crinkle stopped.

  “You’d like her. She has the
first blouse of yours Maman put through, the bandeau one with the handkerchief hem.” Natalie would love Jaime. Natalie’s need for approval and Jaime’s tendency to nurture would be a perfect match. He glanced around the dark streets, wondering where that idea came from.

  “At least she has better taste than her sister. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to be playing around with her before the wedding. What would Trent say?”

  He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Trent is thrilled that I’ve made it halfway across the country. That’s why Jaime’s with me. He thought I needed a nanny to make sure I obey my bedtime.”

  He smiled as he said the word bedtime just when he arrived at the hotel. He could hardly wait.

  “Xav, use the head with a brain, please. Messing with Trent’s sister-in-law could get messy, and you hate clutter.”

  “Sweet Natalie, you worry about fashion week. I’ve got my holiday under control.”

  …

  Six half-brothers, a dozen uncles, a father and a stepfather had taught her a thing or three about dealing with stubborn men. Jaime traced the new route on the U.S. map she’d found in the travel magazine in the hotel nightstand. If Xavier wanted Mt. Rushmore and Yellowstone, she’d oblige him.

  She’d always wanted to experience both places, and she was starting to enjoy being with him more than it annoyed her. But she needed to get back to rebuilding her life. Eventually.

  Still, there was no point in letting Xavier continue to run the show by the seat of his pants. She figured she could get them to Oregon by the weekend if she could find something to entice him in Idaho. She flipped the pages of the magazine and decided rafting was her best bet, but she was up for anything that would distract him from his Grand Canyon plan.

  The click of the key in the door made her sit straighter and shake out her nearly dry hair with her fingers. She checked her nightgown, adjusting the cotton to cover more of her legs.

  Xavier stepped into the room and gave her a predatory grin. “That is better than lingerie.”

  “Um, good?” If he only knew Carla had laughed at her when she’d taken it. Apparently Carla’s mother gave her cotton nightgowns for her birthday every year, and she’d yet to wear one. “I’m not exactly the lingerie type.”

  He shook his head. “You’re what lingerie is designed for.”

  Her heart swelled at the compliment. When he said sweet things like that, she almost forgot he didn’t mean them the way she wanted him to.

  “I almost bought you a peignoir at the brothel.”

  “Thank goodness you didn’t. I don’t want anything from that place.”

  He shrugged. “The quality left much to be desired. You, on the other hand…” He peeled of his T-shirt and stepped towards the bed.

  She fought over the desire to lick that magnificent chest. When had she turned into a sex fiend? She cleared her throat and held out her hand. “My phone? Did they pretend to haunt that too?”

  He muttered something in French, but she could only make out the curse words. He reached into the pocket of his cargo shorts and tossed her phone and a box of condoms on the bed.

  She snatched up the phone and kicked the box with her bare foot. “We won’t be on this trip long enough to use an entire box of condoms.”

  “Finally, one of your bets I can benefit from. We’ll get through that box before we make it to Oregon, and then we’ll get to use another box once we’re there. I love this idea.”

  She tried to resist the urge to roll her eyes, but really, at least she wasn’t the only one with sex on the brain. “If only you could use this single-minded obsession to get us to the wedding before the guests start to arrive.”

  “We have almost two weeks. What are you going to do between now and then? Arrange her flowers?”

  “No.” But that did remind her she’d been too busy today to call the florist and try to sweet talk them into finding white tulips for the bridesmaids. Maybe Allison would decide to try again with the florist herself.

  “You told me the schools haven’t even opened the offices yet, so you can’t get after them about positions. And you can’t get an apartment until you know where you’ll be teaching.”

  Damn, he’d been listening as she rambled on while they drove. It should annoy her that he’d tumbled her protests to the ground, but it was sexy as hell that he’d actually heard her.

  There were so many things about him that were wonderful and magical and exactly what she wanted. Too bad they were wrapped up in a man who would leave the country in a couple weeks and never look back.

  “Hey, no sad face. You’re going to get a job. If you were in your mom’s house, all you’d do is obsess about it. Here, at least I can distract you.” He took another step towards the bed.

  “How about you distract yourself with a shower?” She looked at her phone display, needing some distance. When he was like this they didn’t seem like a fling. It felt like a relationship, more supportive than any she’d ever had.

  He knit his brows and then smiled wide as if a light bulb had just lit up over his head. “Great idea, that way we’ll be faster in the morning and can capture the sunrise at Rushmore.”

  She nodded, glad he walked away. If they made love now, she wouldn’t be able to keep it together. She’d wind up telling him she was falling for him and the spell would be broken.

  And so would her heart.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jaime listened to the phone ring and rubbed the hem of her night gown. It was an ungodly hour in Chicago, but Carla had woken her with man troubles before. Turnabout was fair play.

  “You’d better be dead, Jaime.” Carla’s sleep-filled voice immediately calmed her frazzled nerves.

  “I’m screwed.” She hugged her knees to her chest.

  “Literally? Because I’ll get up for details. Otherwise, I have to work tomorrow.”

  “In every way possible.”

  Carla laughed. “I doubt it, but I’m awake now so spill just in case.”

  “I’m falling in love with him.”

  “No, you’re not. Trust me. You think you should love him because you slept with him. That’s all it is. It is perfectly okay to have sex with someone you’re not in love with, Jaime.”

  “Carla, he’s amazing.” Her eyes grew heavy, so she shut them tight.

  “In bed? I hope so. After the duds you’ve put up with, you deserve a good fuck.”

  She opened her eyes and shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Okay, if he sucks in bed, there’s really no point to this little adventure the two of you are on.”

  “That’s not the issue.”

  “Good, I want details. Like when, where, how long. Go on, spill.”

  “That’s not why I called.”

  “Oh, you owe me. Give me something here. You woke me up, for goodness sakes.”

  “Fine. We went to a brothel today.” Her cheeks lifted in a grin.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “And one of the girls helped us explore.”

  “No fucking way.”

  “We ended up locked in a haunted bedroom with a very squeaky bed.”

  “Get out!”

  Jaime started to laugh and covered her mouth to keep Xavier from hearing over his shower.

  “I knew it was too good to be true.”

  “It’s a museum, and the tour guides are octogenarians. But they did lock us in a haunted room and try to scare us.”

  “Weird. You’re not teasing him the way you’re teasing me, are you? No one likes a cock-tease, honey.”

  “Sex isn’t the issue.”

  “Yes! You are having sex with him.”

  Jaime cleared her throat. “I don’t know if I should be.”

  “If he makes you come, you should be.”

  “But all day, I’m feeling things for him I have no right to. Today, when the horses were running at him, I couldn’t breathe. And when we were locked in the room, I couldn’t keep him close enough
. And he listens to me, Carla. No one really listens to me.”

  “Excuse me, up in the middle of the night listening to you over here. No clue what the horses are about though.”

  “You know what I mean. I like him more every minute I’m with him, at least when he’s not driving me crazy. If I keep on like this, I’m not going to be able to walk away. It’s going to be such a mess when we get to Oregon.”

  “Okay, three things. One, calm the fuck down. You’re creating your own drama. Two, if Oregon is going to be a problem, delay getting there. Blame it on him, what does he care, he’s leaving the country. And three, stop convincing yourself you’re making love to him. Just fuck him, Jaime.”

  “I wish I could. I’m trying, really I am.”

  “You need some serious deprogramming. It’s healthy for adults to have sex. You’re not a child. Your parental dogma about premarital sex has no place here. Just because you’re enjoying his assets doesn’t mean you need to invest.”

  Jaime laughed, then covered her mouth to hold it in when she heard the shower shut off. “You see, this is why I called you. How do I keep myself from falling for him, oh wise one?”

  “You realize you should like the people you sleep with, but you don’t have to love them. The guy makes you crazy, and not in a good way. A lifetime of that would make you certifiable. You can ignore his annoying tendencies for a couple of weeks, but believe me, when he’s gone you’ll realize you dodged a bullet.”

  “I don’t like thinking about when he’ll be gone. He talks about calling me.”

  “For phone sex?”

  She gasped. “How did you know?”

  “Because, sweetie, I play this game. It may be your first time around the board, but I’m a champion. He’s not being nice to you because he’s in love with you. He’s enjoying your company. Enjoy his. Or get the hell out of dodge and you’ll be kicking yourself within a week for not accepting every ride he had on offer.”

  Her stomach sank. “I’ll regret it either way.”

  “Really? On one hand we have a hot, hot Frenchman who wants to take you on a cross-country adventure while numbing your anxiety with orgasms. On the other hand, we have your sister’s wedding drama, your mama drama, your stepdad wanting to know when you’ll have a car and be out of his house, and the stress of trying to secure a teaching position before school offices open. Yeah, Jaime, this is a really tough choice.”