“After you then, darling,” Brian says with a grin.
She squeezes past him to enter the room. His body heat radiates from underneath the designer leather jacket he wears. Why does he have to stand so close to her and why does he have to be so damned smug?
The room possesses a king-sized bed with white sheets and four fluffy white pillows. The thread count here apparently goes into the thousands. There are two black-and-white striped armchairs and a glass table, but no couch. The ceiling-to-floor windows proffer a view of the gardens. The whole ensemble is very rustic, very nineteenth century.
Brian throws the suitcases on the floor. He wrenches off his leather jacket.
“I stink. I’m going to take a shower.”
She has yet to talk to him about their sleeping arrangements. Naturally, he would be taking the floor.
He throws the jacket onto the bed and starts unbuttoning his black shirt, which is so well-cut as to emphasize his torso. She can’t help staring. He has a very nice body. Scratch that. He has an amazing body, with a smooth sculptured chest, broad shoulders and flat abs. She can see and count every muscle. Even the snaking veins on his arms.
It doesn’t occur to her that he will stop there until he unzips his jeans.
“What are you doing?” she says, taken aback.
“What does it look like? I’m taking a shower.” He doesn’t wear anything under his jeans. A tuft of black pubic hair springs out. He is brimming with raw sexuality – a well-toned predator on the Serengeti, sleekly muscled and boiling with energy.
Oh my God.
Her face inflamed, she turns to face the window. His cock. She doesn’t want to see his cock.
Who is she kidding? It will be magnificent.
He’s doing this to infuriate her. She can see (or try not to see) right through him. He doesn’t think he will tantalize her in any sexual manner, but he senses that deep down she’s a prude, and he’s making sure he pushes all her alarm buttons in every way possible.
“You can damned well take your clothes off in the bathroom,” she hisses.
“But we are lovers,” he says in a singsong voice. He places a caustic emphasis on the word. “Lovers are supposed to see each other naked all the time. I have nothing to hide.”
She’s aware of that double entrende. She still has her back turned on him.
“Believe me, I’ve seen nothing on you that remotely interests me,” she says in a tone that is meant to sting.
“That makes two of us, sweetheart.”
She hears him sauntering off to the bathroom and she half-turns to steal a look. His incredible bare bu**ocks roll as he disappears. A moment later, and the sound of a shower hits the tiles. He hasn’t even bothered to shut the bathroom door.
If she’s supposed to be the mistress and he her willing slave, he certainly has got the tables turned.
How is she ever going to get through sleeping in the same bedroom with him tonight?
7
Tonight, there’s a reception at the Grand Ballroom of the hotel.
“Remember, it’s a snazzy affair, so you’ll have to dress up,” Sam reminds him.
She’s anxiously fussing over her own hairdo. She’s frizzing it up with some sort of spray, which accounts for the massive suitcase she made him carry all the way from Chicago. She combs each strand and musses it up again with gel, as if she’s trying to shape it into some sort of bizarre corkscrew pattern.
He doesn’t see the point, since she’s got great hair. Not that he would ever tell her that in a million years, of course.
He knows why she is so worked up about appearing good for her sister. At least, he thinks he knows. If she is any extension of what she was during middle grade, then she would have had a hard time coming out of her sister’s shadow. A sister, from all accounts, who is prettier, more glamorous and more successful in landing big fish than she is.
He says, “I don’t know why you bother. Your hair never going to resemble anything other a bird’s nest.”
As soon as it’s out, he regrets it. Why do you always have to be such a goddamned ass**le?
He sees the hurt blossom in her eyes. He curses himself. But he has an unapologetic veneer to maintain, and so he spreads his mouth into a cynical grin instead.
“And yours will never be anything but a total bedhead,” she shoots back.
Ouch. He takes great pride in his hair. But he gives a lot, so he’s equally good at taking it.
“So why are you so hung up about what your sister thinks?”
“Huh?”
“The hair. Me. The fact that I’m here on this sordidly deceptive weekend. Or should I say . . . deceptively sordid weekend?”
“Oh, that.”
She locks eyes with him in the mirror. His breath catches. Her eyes will always be her best feature. He can well imagine those eyes being smoky with desire, gazing adoringly up at him from a horizontal position as she writhes sexily under his heaving body.
His dormant c**k begins to stir. He shifts on one leg.
Careful.
He watches as a plethora of complex emotions flit on her face.
She sighs. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s complicated. Anyway, you don’t give a damn what anyone thinks or feels, so why do you care?”
He splays his hands. “Hey, I’m just askin’. No need to bite my head off.”
“Not that you’d ever understand what it feels like to be a dork.”
You’re not a dork, he thinks.
He says, “Some people just have dork genes, I guess. So which side of the family did yours come from?”
Her features turn apoplectic.
“Oh,” she splutters, “just go and do whatever . . . Cassie will be here any minute.”
“What? To play dress up Barbie?”
‘Get out.”
“Touchy.”
He waltzes out of the door.
“But don’t do anything to embarrass me,” she throws at him.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“No picking anyone up either. This is a small town and word gets around.” She glares at him.
“Not when I’m a total stranger.”
“For all you know, the whole town might be invited tonight. And you promised. It’s part of the deal.”
“Yeah, so sue me.”
He slams the door behind him. He hasn’t had his daily, emotionally meaningless sexual fix yet, thanks to Ms. Uptight and Prissy.
Now what is he going to do for sex?
*
Hartford is a small, small town. Apparently, the Buchners own half of it. They also own the hotel, the mill, the lumber factory and the bakery. Talk about diversification.