“Hello?” Paige called, knocking loudly on a pane of glass.
Right, probably not here, not now.
They were crammed into a vestibule that was closed off by another set of French doors. Paige tried the handle a few times but couldn’t get the doors to open.
Paige called again. Subtlety was never really her strong suit.
One of the doors burst open, and Taylor's head snapped forward in response to the ruckus.
A tall, slim man stood in front of them battling with the unopened door. There was a lock on the ceiling keeping the second door in place, and the newcomer was grunting and tugging at the stuck pin.
"Whatever," he said, waving his hand at the mechanism. "You ladies and gents can fit through this door, right? Note to self, tell Tatum about the broken lock."
He nodded to himself before ushering them into the front room. "So sorry about that! I forgot to unlock the door. Then you were stuck in there, but you already know that."
He trailed off and ran his hands through his wild mess of strawberry blond hair. "Anyway, welcome to the Caraway Inn! Built as a summer home by Albert for his wife Edith in 1914. It was turned into a bed-and-breakfast in 1984 and is still owned and operated by the Caraway family. My name is Lars, and I will be your host and dead body for this weekend."
Shane looked around to his friends. Was this guy for real? This was the renowned Murder Mystery Inn? Lars looked like he wandered off of a commune and stumbled into the Caraway looking for munchies—he was clearly stoned. Though, judging by his clothes—ill-fitting red buffalo-checked pants and an oversized wool sweater–he was probably high more often than not. Paige was smiling and nodding, but she loved everyone and everything. And Taylor had a knowing smirk on her face.
Shane gently nudged Taylor's side. She jumped slightly and turned looked over her shoulder. He raised his eyebrows and mouthed, "What is going on?" with wide, panicked eyes.
She rewarded him with the tiniest giggle and shoved him playfully. "Stop it. He seems nice," she whispered and focused her attention back on Lars.
Score one for Shane—Taylor was flirting.
"All right," Lars called out in a fake British accent, demanding Shane's attention. "Now for the grand tour. Please follow me right this way, ladies and gents."
Lars turned to Paige and Carson. "Was the accent too much? I'm trying to get into character. I've never been the dead body before, although we've never actually had a dead body before, but this is my first weekend moderating the mystery, and I feel like a dead body is necessary to solve a murder."
"Are you dead from the very beginning, or will you interact with us before you die?" Paige asked, clearly loving their over-the-top host.
"Well, no. I'm always dead."
"Then I think the accent is perfect." Paige beamed. Shane rolled his eyes. She was on cloud nine right now, and he had a feeling Lars might get more attention than Carson this weekend.
They followed Lars toward the back of the house and started climbing a set of narrow, wooden stairs. Shane was in the back of the group, watching the spectacle ahead of him.
Lars climbed the stairs backward and faced the group. "Oi fink we'll start by climbing me servants stairs." He shook his head and muttered to himself, "No, no, am I pirate or an aristocrat?"
Shane leaned forward and whispered into Taylor's ear, "Oi fink this is going to be one hell of a weekend."
She stiffened as soon as his breath hit her neck then turned around and smiled. "You might be right."
CHAPTER THREE
______________
TAYLOR
Holy shit. Was she flirting with Shane? Was she being normal?
She could have stayed in that entryway forever. Initially, she'd tried to shuffle away from him, worried that she was invading his personal space. But his body had followed hers, ever so slightly. And it felt nice. Solid. Her shoulders resting against his chest, her ass nuzzled against his belt. She'd had the urge to melt into him, let him wrap his arms around her. Those damned arms again. Like that fucking hug, she'd disappeared into his massive arms, and she wanted to go back.
If only for a night. A vacation fling. Totally doable.
He'd stayed just behind her from the moment they'd walked into the Caraway. His breath against her sent shivers through her body. His body seemed to be constantly just inches from hers, and that was too far. Even that absurd accent and his playful smile made her cheeks flush.
Shit, she was losing her mind.
The group started moving again, and she paid close attention to her feet as she climbed the narrow stairs. Lars had said these were the servants stairs, right by the kitchen. She couldn’t imagine scurrying up this slippery, steep death trap with a tray full of tea and snacks, in a skirt. Hell no.
At the top of the stairs, Lars ushered them into the hallway.
"Since you guys have the place to yourselves this weekend, I didn't assign any rooms or anything, so you can just have your pick from one of these five rooms. “There's also a suite on the top floor. It's our honeymoon suite, so if there are two or three or four lovers"—he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively—"who want to lay claim to that, it’s right up these steps. There's a sitting area, dining area, and bathtub—so, like—you never have to leave your room. Well, you’ll want to this weekend for the game, but—you know."
Lars trailed off and stopped and looked at his hands for a few seconds then lifted his head, his eyes passing over Carson and Paige and Shane and Taylor painfully slowly. "Did I tell you about dinner tonight?"
Taylor snickered, and Shane poked her in the side. She glanced over her shoulder, and he shook his head slowly while furrowing his eyebrows and gave her a stern look. "No laughing at the stoner," he chastised.
"Too late." She glanced at Lars, who was still trying to gather his thoughts. "So I guess I'll just have to deal with the consequences," she added playfully.
Shane placed a hand on her waist as he leaned down to whisper in her ear again. "Are you sure about that?"
She froze. Another round of shivers ran down her spine. She exhaled slowly.
On her left, Paige loudly cleared her throat. "Dinner, Lars?"
"Right. Food. Okay, dinner is at six o'clock in the dining room. Our award-winning chef, Gabriel, is preparing a lovely six-course meal, followed by dessert in the drawing room. And that's when we find our”—he paused dramatically, raising his hands to his face and tapping the tips of his fingers together like a maniacal villain—“murder victim.”
"I'll bring your bags up in a few minutes while you pick out your rooms." Lars squeezed past them and headed toward the back stairs but stopped at the top and turned around to add, "By the way, this house is green friendly. Just take it to the back porch." He winked.
"Oh!" Shane exclaimed. "I would have never guessed. What do you think, Taylor? A little relaxation on vacation? Would your chief down at the precinct mind?"
Lars’s eyes widened as he glanced around the group.
"Stop it." She swatted Shane's arm. "Chill out, Lars. I'm sure you were just mentioning that in case we used it medically. Right?"
"Yup. Definitely. I'm going to get those bags now." He scurried down the stairs.
"You're the worst, Shane," Paige scolded her brother. "Leave Lars alone. I like him."
"I'm sure you do," Carson said, pulling her into a hug. "Just remember this is our weekend. We can come back for Lars some other time."
"Fuck. I don't need to know that about my sister, man. I'm taking this room," Shane said as he opened the closest door. "I'll see you all at dinner. I need a shower after that long drive."
"Don't you want to see the suite upstairs?" Paige asked him.
"No. I don't need all of that space. You and Carson can take it."
"Oh, we're not taking it. Taylor is totally going to get the princess suite. She hasn't had a weekend off in years, and we travel all the time. But I still want to see it. Let's go!" She grabbed Shane's hand and dragged him toward the narrow stair
s.
The staircase took them up two more floors to the house's attic, the original servants quarters. The door at the top of the stairs opened into a grand and expansive room. Dainty glass chandeliers hung from the ceiling and scattered fragmented light along the walls. A four-poster bed with dozens of pillows took up one corner of the suite, and a plush couch and chaise sat in another, arranged around a simple stone fireplace. The focal point of the suite was a massive steel tub sitting in the center of the home's turret. Bay windows lined the inside of the circular tower, and cushioned benches stretched across the curved wall.
"Shit." Paige exhaled. "This is a princess suite."
Taylor wandered over to the alcove inside the turret and lounged on one of the benches. "Do you think you're supposed to watch the sunset or have an audience in the bathtub?" She grinned playfully at Paige and flicked her gaze over to Shane to see if he was listening.
He was more than listening to her. He was leaning against the fireplace mantel devouring her with his eyes. She suddenly felt as if she were stretched out naked for him. He wore a dark, hungry expression that stole all the air from her lungs. If there were any questions left about what he was doing here or why Paige had brought him, this moment answered all of them.
A series of bangs and crashes down below made everyone in the room jump, breaking Shane’s hold on her. "Sorry!" came Lars's distant voice from the bottom of the stairs. "I'm fine! Just dropped the bags! See you at dinner!"
"I have like four bottles of wine in my bag," Paige whined.
"Are you still amused by our lovely host?" Shane teased.
"Yes. Come on, Taylor. Let's get our bags. We’ll get ready for dinner up here with one of my unbroken bottles of wine. And Shane gets none. Alone. In his sad shower."
The four of them descended to the second floor, and the women dragged their bags back upstairs, leaving Shane and Carson alone.
"Did you see there's a whole bathroom back here with a shower too?" Paige asked from behind a door that Taylor hadn’t noticed.
“What the hell? Did that appear by magic? I didn’t even notice it.”
Paige shrugged. “The door was wide open. Maybe we just missed it the first time around because there was so much going on.”
"Well, feel free to use it," Taylor answered as she poured two glasses of wine.
"Maybe after dinner. We don't have much time to get ready, and I already did my hair this morning." Paige raised her glass toward her friend before taking the first sip. "So, what are you wearing tonight?" she asked.
"You said dinners were formal, so I brought a few dresses and heels. But if you aren't getting dressed up, then I'm wearing sweats. However, my dresses are fucking awesome, and I never get to wear them, so you’d better have brought something fancy too."
"Let me see!" Paige squealed.
Taylor opened her suitcase, pulled out a small garment bag, and unzipped it with one hand, showing Paige a short 1920s inspired shift dress.
"Shit. Shane is going to lose his mind."
"Okay," Taylor said, dropping her arms. "What the fuck is the deal with Shane? Was he really a last-minute addition, or are you just trying to play matchmaker?"
"Well, to be honest, don't get mad at me."
"That's not a good start."
"Shane and I kind of plotted it together." She spat the words out as quickly as she could and then pretended to cringe waiting for an explosion from Taylor.
"What do you mean?"
"Listen, Shane hasn't dated anyone in years. Years. And I kept trying to set him up because, you know, it's my calling, and love is a beautiful thing. But he was never even interested. He's never gotten over you. So I offered to make that happen."
"Why didn’t you just tell me?" Taylor asked.
"Because you would never make love a priority."
"I might puke."
"Why? I've heard you two snickering behind me all afternoon. You two were best friends, and I remember what you told me that night over a bottle of tequila."
"Yes, we were friends."
“Are.”
“And, yes, with half a bottle of tequila in me, I will admit that I could see us as something. But that was years ago.”
“Taylor. You’ve been flirting with him since we got here.”
"I've been flirting with him because he's been flirting with me, and I figured 'Fuck it, I'll have a vacation fling.' But now there's all this pressure, and I don't know. I don't know if I want more than a fling. That’s what fucked me up so badly the first time. I didn’t know what I wanted, and I froze, and I lost everything."
Paige leaned over and whispered, "I've always said, 'Open your legs, and your heart will follow.'"
Taylor stared at Paige and blinked her eyes a few times. "You are the most ridiculous person I know."
"Put that dress on, and Shane will be on his knees in seconds! And I promise you are going to have a blast this weekend. Your best friend. A fun mystery. A man who’s just dying to win a place in your heart… and your bed." She winked. "What could possibly go wrong?"
CHAPTER FOUR
______________
SHANE
"We are definitely coming back here," Carson said, waving his hand around. "Assuming Lars can actually manage to stay employed."
Shane groaned. "Come on, man, that's my sister." He leaned his head back against the wall, willing himself to disappear, maybe unhear the intricacies of his sister's sex life.
He and Carson were sitting in two overstuffed chairs situated in the second-floor hallway, waiting for the women to join them for dinner. Carson was dressed to the fucking nines in a slick Gatsby-like cream suit with black lapels, playing the part of a Gilded Age aristocrat—all he needed was a cigar and suit coat.
Shane hadn't quite gotten the same memo: he wore black trousers and a white dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Not that he was the type to play dress-up, but he might have brought a suit coat.
"I mean, the atmosphere is great. And I wouldn't mind getting some time in that tub with Paige."
“You two should have taken that suite, then. That way, we wouldn’t have to have this conversation.”
“Yeah, we’d be having a totally different one if that was the case.” Carson paused. "Plus your sister basically set up this fuck weekend for you."
"It's about more than just sex." His voice was low and defensive.
"Tell Taylor that." Carson nodded toward the attic stairs.
Shane turned around to watch the doorway. The sound of heels echoed through the enclosed staircase, and for a moment, just Taylor's long, naked legs were visible. As she stepped down one step and then another, only more skin was exposed in the open doorway. Shit. Was she even wearing any clothes? For a short woman, those legs seemed to go on for days.
She was wearing a loose dress with a high neckline and a sinfully short hemline. It hung on her like an oversized T-shirt, hiding all her curves, yet he doubted that he'd ever seen a sexier garment. The bottom of the skirt swung back and forth as she walked down the hallway, and he was almost positive it was just millimeters away from revealing whatever panties she was wearing.
His cock throbbed, and he exhaled slowly, willing the ache in his balls to go away. He did not need to spend the entire dinner with an erection. Maybe as long as Taylor stayed chastely hidden under a table, he would be able to control himself.
"Ready?" Taylor asked nonchalantly, as if she had no idea how affected he was by her presence.
"You look stunning,” he said as he reached forward and touched one of her curls that hung over her shoulders. He couldn't help himself; he didn't even think twice about the action. He let his hand fall, and the back of his fingers grazed the top of her breast.
Her body went rigid the second he passed over her nipple, and he heard the quietest exhale pass between her lips.
"Thank you," she said with a shaky voice as she reached for his hand, entwining her fingers between his.
Dinner was almost
as excruciating as Taylor's walk down the stairs. She sat directly across from him, and somehow everything she did was wickedly erotic.
He was overcome with a deathly combination of love and lust, amplified by years of longing.
He’d never understood how food could be sexy until tonight. Sorority girl deep throats popsicle? Hard pass. Taylor placing the smallest piece of lamb in her mouth and then melting into her seat while sighing slowly? Sign him up. He loved that look of complete satisfaction on her face. The way her eyes rolled back in her head ever so slightly. He could make her do that. Ten fold.
He was so preoccupied with watching her that he could barely participate in the conversation. More than once, Paige had to call his name several times before resorting to kicking him under the table to get his attention. He didn’t give a shit. Taylor was bewitching.
The way she cocked her head and laughed before taking a sip of her wine. Shane wished he'd been the one to make her smile. The way she broke off a piece of herb bread, dipped it in olive oil, and then gently placed it in her mouth, her red lips sucking her fingers clean—those should be his fingers.
His cock remained in a constant state of arousal throughout that entire fucking meal. It was excruciating to be so close to her yet unable to touch her, unable to hold her. He had to keep reminding himself he didn't even know if he would be able to touch her. Yes, she seemed to be flirting with him, but what if she was just being friendly? What if she was just happy to see her old partner? What if she hoped he'd forgotten all about his feelings for her?
Obsessing over all the ways this weekend could go wrong promptly took care of his erection. Just in time for Lars to enter the dining room and announce, "When you've finished with dinner, we will move to the drawing room and learn about our mystery."
Shane stood up and walked around the table to help Taylor out of her seat. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. "Thank you. I don't think I've ever had someone pull my chair out for me."
"You're making some of us look bad," Carson said out of the corner of his mouth.
Hot Pursuit- the Complete Collection Page 2
