Hot Sheets

“What time do your parents arrive tomorrow?” she asked.

“Their flight’s due early. A little after eight.”

“Great, plenty of time before the festivities start.” Looping her arm through Delia’s, she steered her toward the promenade. “Come on. Let’s get you checked in. We’ll talk while we walk. I’ve got an idea.”

Laura detailed her plan to have a limo pick up Delia’s parents at the airport for a grand tour of Niagara Falls. “Let’s give them a little VIP treatment and warm them up to the area before we bring them to the inn. You tell me what interests them, and I’ll assign a concierge to be their guide.”

She smiled, hoping to reassure an anxious Delia. “We’ve got a lot more than the falls around here and my staff is skilled at presenting our unique services. We’ll break the news about the events in bits and pieces, and I’m sure we’ll have them comfortable and ready to have fun before they even check in.”

Jackson smiled appreciatively. “Sounds like a great place to start.”

“And you’re sure this won’t be too much trouble?” Delia asked.

“Not at all, Delia,” she said. “I’ll have your folks back in plenty of time to get settled before the festivities. All you have to do is prepare them for the official Falling Inn Bed parents-of-the-bride VIP treatment. And now, are you ready for the unveiling?” Laura brought them to a stop beneath the entrance to survey the newly decorated lobby. “Ta-da! Here it is. What do you think?”

Delia and Jackson’s obvious pleasure made Laura smile. While they’d been involved with the construction of the new addition from the ground breaking, they’d left for their next project before the design crew had worked its magic. And the finished project—from the ornate ceilings and papered walls to the array of cranberry ware vases and the Mireille Marceaux displayed in prominence—was indeed magical.

“Laura, I can’t tell you what it means that you chose us as special guests for your grand opening,” Delia said.

“Special guests?” she repeated. “You’re the honorary bridal couple for the Naughty Nuptials. And who better to inaugurate the Wedding Wing? Not only did you help build it, but you got engaged here. You’ll be written into our history as the couple who started the matrimony ball rolling.”

And establishing what Laura believed with her whole heart and soul—that a perfect man existed for every woman. What better place than the Wedding Wing to begin a marriage?

There wasn’t one as far as she was concerned.

Motioning her bridal couple toward the wing’s check-in desk, she said, “I’ve got a few things I need to cover and then you can go settle in. The events won’t officially begin until the welcome reception tomorrow night, which is why I wanted you here early. You deserve to relax before your guests arrive.”

Accepting a package from the desk clerk, a box gift-wrapped in white silk and wedding bells that contained the introductory packet, she passed it to Delia. “Inside is everything you need to prepare. Program. Itinerary. Maps. Checklist. I’ve also included copies of the Bride’s Guerrilla Handbook and Groom’s Survival Guide.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “The Groom’s Survival Guide?”

“I wrote these handbooks myself,” she explained. “And you need to know everything in them. Trust me.”

“Of course we do,” Delia said, coaching her fiancé.

“Good.” Now if her staff could just win over the bride’s reluctant parents, they’d be off to a good start. “Swear to me you’ll look over everything and call if you have any questions. I’m 1-1 on the house phone.”

After helping them to check-in, she saw Delia and Jackson settled before making her way up to her own honeymoon suite on the fifth floor. Beyond the door lay the suite she and Dale had designed together. A place for lovers.

And a man who might become her lover.

If he wasn’t angry about his date.

Taking a deep breath, Laura slipped the card key from her pocket and unlocked the door.

The Castaway Honeymoon Isle was a penthouse suite with an open floor plan arranged around a central focal point—a tropical oasis complete with lush plants, a heated pool and rushing waterfall. It had been dubbed Lovers’ Lagoon during construction and the name had stuck. Now it graced the promotional materials and the Web site.

The suite played to the fantasy of a couple being stranded on a deserted island alone, and every room in the place—including the bath—overlooked this oasis through a wall of glass.

There was a comfortable living area, a minikitchen and dining area, a master bath with a glass shower stall large enough for two and a bedroom with a bed large enough for plenty of sex play.

Laura had chosen the theme herself, a delightful Key West decor that was both airy and colorful and brought to mind translucent turquoise water and spun-sugar sand. Inhaling another calming breath, she closed the door and turned….

There he was, watching her from across the suite, where he’d sprawled in a chair with a vantage of the door. With his long legs outstretched and his elbows casually hooked on the chair arms, Dale looked equal parts expectant and predatory in a distinctly bad boy way.

She couldn’t help but marvel at how her body went on red alert at the mere sight of him, a result of his overpowering good looks—black hair, cleanly chiseled features and a lethal grin. He had this hint-of-a-dark-shadow thing going on along his jaw that only added to the effect.

Even sitting, there was no missing that Dale was a tall man, athletic, a man who could move with fast, strong motion and energetic grace. Add that to the way he idly fingered her invitation while watching her with those smoky gray eyes, and her heart sped up its beat until she could barely breathe.

“Hello, Laura.”

The minute he opened his mouth, Laura remembered exactly why she hadn’t been able to get this man out of her head. His voice was pure sex—whiskey deep and silky smooth, a sound that conjured up images of bare bodies gliding against each other in a distinctly rhythmic way.

“Welcome back, Dale.” She sounded breathless and that smile playing around the edges of his mouth suggested he’d noticed.

Not exactly the entrance she’d planned in her fantasies. She’d intended to breeze in and make herself comfortable and detail the game plan. But suddenly she needed him to react, to hear him say he’d accepted her invitation, that his arrival in this suite wasn’t just morbid curiosity about why Annabelle had chased off his date.

Or, worse yet, a joke.

“Are you angry about your date?” She couldn’t read a thing on his face.

“She’d still be here if she wanted to be.”

Okay. He clearly wasn’t too concerned about the runaway date. “Do you want to be my guest for the Naughty Nuptials?”

“I want to be your lover. I have since we met.”

She didn’t know whether it was his calmly issued declaration or the hungry look that sent a rush of awareness through her, but the pulse suddenly throbbing in her throat precluded any reply.

He held up the invitation. “This says you want to share this suite and have a good time. What’s going on here, Laura?”

She took another deep breath. She’d known this would come out of left field for him. It had come out of left field for her. There was only one thing to do here—be honest.

“I changed my mind,” she said simply.

“Now, after I’ve left town? How the hell did you reconcile our differences?”

“Do you mean declining to date you when you asked?”

He nodded.

“The limited time frame of the grand opening solves the problem, don’t you think?”

He looked skeptical. “One of them, maybe. I’m leaving in three weeks, so there’ll be no question about commitment.”

“Problem solved then. As long as we’re clear on what we want from each other.”

“I know what I want from you, Laura. I’ve always known.” His dark, silky tone promised enough bare skin and killer orgasms to send a shiver through her. “What exactly do you want from me?”

“I want to be your lover.” She gave his words back to him, needing to give as good as she got, that familiar feeling rising up like it always did with him, that…need to do something to catch his attention, to make him notice her.

“Really?” He arched an inky brow. “You wouldn’t go on a date with me because you don’t do flings and I’m not the man of your dreams.”

Now he shot her long-ago words back to her with that deep, sexy voice, his gaze holding hers so steadily that she could feel the effects low in her belly. “Can’t a girl change her mind?”

“What made you change it?”

“You’re the man of my fantasies.” She watched his reaction flash across his handsome face. His nostrils flared. His jaw tightened. His whole body tensed. “It’s this chemistry between us, Dale. It drove me crazy while you were here. I thought after you left I’d get over it.” She shrugged. “Read my invitation. It’s all there. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

His eyes bored into her as if demanding her truths, questioning, not quite daring to believe his sudden good fortune.

“Three weeks in this suite seemed like the perfect opportunity to get this chemistry out of the way…unless you don’t want me.”

“You know better.”

The heat was pooling really low now, potent enough to make her take drastic action. Okay, so she’d have to convince him. Fair enough. She’d gone from red-hot to ice-cold when he’d asked her on a date so long ago.

Turning away, she opened the hall closet and slipped off her jacket. “I have to be back downstairs for dinner at seven.”

Here was another perfect opportunity, this one designed to convince him that she was serious about wanting a fling. Swinging her braid over her shoulder, she unfastened the button at her nape.

“Did you tell Annabelle to chase off my date?” he asked.

Laura shook her head. While she might earn brownie points if he thought she’d masterminded the deal, she couldn’t lie. Especially not when she still had pangs about the woman leaving.

“I only sent Annabelle to pick your brain. If you came in alone she was supposed to find out if you were expecting a date. If not, she could give you my invitation. If you arrived with someone, she was supposed to tear up my invitation and swallow the pieces so there wouldn’t be any evidence.”

He laughed. That husky-edged sound rippled through her but Laura still didn’t look at him. It was easier to be calm, cool and courageous when she wasn’t on the end of that gaze. Much, much easier.

Time to level the playing field.

Unfastening her skirt, Laura let it slip to the floor, leaving her standing in a shell, panty hose and practical pumps.

“What the hell are you doing, Laura?”

“I’m convincing you I’m serious about wanting a fling.”

After their long business affiliation, undressing in front of this man was beyond outrageous. But as much as she wanted to see his reaction, she refused to let him see how important his reaction was to her. She hung her skirt on a hanger, instead.

“How can I be the man of your fantasies but not the man of your dreams?” He sounded unconvinced. “Please explain the difference to me.”

His voice had lowered another sexy octave and Laura fought to keep her calm, as if stripping in front of an attractive man was a commonplace occurrence. “The man of my fantasies is a man I can enjoy myself with. When it’s over, it’s over. We both go our separate ways and take away some pleasant memories.”

She tried not to wax too poetic when she said, “The man of my dreams is the man I want to share my life with. He’ll be someone with similar values who wants similar things from life. He’ll share some of my interests and be willing to explore new ones that we can share together. He’ll bring out the best in me and I’ll do the same for him.”

Dale’s snort sounded less than amused, so Laura placed the hanger in the closet and chanced a peek at him.

The frown darkening his expression warned her a storm was brewing so she wasn’t entirely unprepared when he arched a brow and asked, “How do you know what I want from my life? I don’t recall ever having that conversation with you. Or one about values, either.”

She forced a laugh, unsure why she’d offended him. “You’re a bad boy, Dale. The man of my dreams won’t be.”

“Define bad boy.”

“The guys who drive fast cars and chase faster women.”

“This is your opinion of me? Based on what? I behaved exemplarily while I was on this property.”

He sounded so indignant that she had to swallow back a real laugh. “That may be the case, Dale, but let me point out that you can’t help flirting no matter how young or old a woman might be. I don’t think you’ll deny that.”

His frown morphed into a scowl. But on the up side, his heated gaze kept dipping from her face, and she thought he might have noticed that she didn’t wear panties under her panty hose.

“Flirting doesn’t make me a degenerate.”

“I never said degenerate. I said bad boy. There’s nothing wrong with bad boys but they don’t stay forever. They like skirting the edges and pushing the limits. They like being challenged.”

“This is bad?”

“Not at all. It can be perfectly exciting in a lover. But the man of my dreams won’t work a job where he travels all over the world for extended periods of time—”

“Sounds like you have a problem with my job, not me.”

“I don’t have a problem with either,” she clarified patiently. “I just didn’t want to complicate our working relationship when you weren’t what I was looking for in a man. It’s not that I’m opposed to a fling per se, but a fling is meant to be short. We’ve been working on this project for two years and much of that time we were on this property together.”

She wouldn’t mention her own concerns about mixing sex and romance. They would undoubtedly send this man running.

“I find it interesting that the woman who single-handedly masterminded the Wedding Wing and the Naughty Nuptials, a woman who is the biggest romantic idealist I’ve ever met, and I’ve met my share of women, believe me—”

She certainly did!

“—can be so cold-bloodedly pragmatic about her own love life.”

“What’s cold-blooded? I know what I want and don’t want to waste my time heading down roads that’ll take me where I don’t want to go.”

“How do you know where a road will take you unless you go for a spin on it?”

He visibly struggled to keep his gaze on her face, so she propped a shoulder against the wall, folded her arms across her chest and hooking her ankles in a would-be casual pose that let him view her in all her full frontal glory.

His gaze dropped again.

“I’ve looked at the map, Dale. I know exactly where you’d take me—straight into bed. Then after the ride, you’d beep your horn, wave good-bye and not look in the rearview mirror. You would have shown up for work the next day as if nothing had happened between us. I just wasn’t comfortable with that.”

“You’ve looked at the map? What the hell does that mean?”

He didn’t refute her charges, and that only reinforced what Laura already knew—Dale Emerson might be a dyed-in-the-wool bad boy, but there was honor beneath his fast grins and charming words. He wouldn’t lie. Not even he could deny he was trouble on two very nice legs.

“It means I’ve looked at some of your past rides and they’ve confirmed my opinion.” She hadn’t meant to reveal that little tidbit but if he needed proof… “I did some homework before I wrote my invitation.”

“You checked out the women I dated while I was in town?”

“Yes.”

He tossed the invitation onto an end table as if it suddenly burned his fingers. “Enlighten me.”

“My pleasure.” But first…a distraction. Dragging the hem of her silk shell upward, Laura stretched, another provocative move that was rewarded by a quick intake of breath. She schooled her smile before the blouse cleared her face.

“I heard that you had such a hot love life you could only date women who didn’t live in Niagara Falls proper so you wouldn’t damage your reputation.”

“My former dates are talking about me?”

“No, Dale. They’re bragging.”

That stopped him. His expression went blank, and his mouth popped open enough to show a glint of teeth before he rallied, “Bragging? About what?”

“About what a studmuffin you are in bed,” she informed him pleasantly. “From what I hear you can come four times a night and bring a woman to pleasure twice that number.”

His scowl reappeared in force now, but he didn’t dispute the claims, or agree, for that matter. Laura got the distinct impression he didn’t know what to say, which came as another surprise. She’d meant to stroke his ego, had thought he’d be pleased to know his past lovers regarded him so highly.

Obviously not.

“How do you even know who I dated, Laura? I never visited the same town twice.”

“You’re in western New York, my friend. Mountains and valleys and miles do not equal anonymity.”

“Apparently not.”

He sounded so annoyed that she couldn’t help but take pity on him. “I’m serious about wanting a fling, Dale. If it didn’t work out during the grand opening, then I considered taking a much-deserved vacation to California to look you up. You sounded worth the trip.”

He gave a grunt of disgust.

She smiled. “According to my research, you dated six women during the time you worked on the Wedding Wing. All six had rave reviews. That’s something to be proud of.”

“Except that I thought I was on good behavior because I was the senior project architect on this job.”

“Oh.” Pushing away from the wall, Laura headed toward the bedroom to retrieve her dinner dress and give him a performance along the way. “Case closed, Dale. You’re a bad boy.”

3

LAURA CONTINUED TO the bedroom closet, attempting to calm her pulse and reevaluate her strategy. She’d guessed that Dale would want an explanation about her change of heart, but she hadn’t expected quite so much wariness about her offer. To be fair, she supposed that being a five-star Mr. Charming didn’t necessarily mean he was careless about who he jumped into bed with.

She’d honestly never meant to imply that his actions were degenerate. She’d intended to compliment his prowess, reinforce her reasons for wanting a fling. But he’d seemed so surprised by her revelations about his past dates that she wondered if he’d expected her to crawl into bed with him without at least peeking at his history. That sort of negligence would have been reckless. Laura might be a lot of things—a romantic idealist among them—but she wasn’t reckless.

She’d decided to switch gears and veer off the respectable relationship track, and while she knew Dale from work, she didn’t know much about his personal life. She’d looked into it. Plain and simple.

Her choice of dates for the Naughty Nuptials would reflect on Falling Inn Bed during what was intended to be a media circus. Her choice in attire would reflect on the inn, too, so she selected a blue crochet dress and a pair of kid-skin slingbacks. Simple, tasteful and elegant. Heading back into the living room, she avoided Dale’s gaze and hung the dress in the hall closet.

She’d answered his questions and given him a sneak preview of what she had to offer with the removal of her suit. He would make the next move. He’d either accept her offer or turn her down. If he turned her down, she’d simply dress for dinner as if changing in front of him had been nothing more than a necessity of time constraints. She’d pretend to have some dignity left.

Dale still hadn’t said a word. Maybe he needed more time to decide. Maybe she’d just surprised him. Maybe he still didn’t trust her. But whatever his reasoning, she began to feel naked and didn’t like the feeling at all.

Just as she reached for her dress, she heard him get up. Glancing over her shoulder, she found him heading toward her, his expression nothing short of purposeful.

Now here was a look she’d never seen before. Gone was the professional who’d strategized and problem solved the design and construction of the Wedding Wing. Gone was the easy, smiling man she’d gotten to know while working together, a man who flirted as naturally as he breathed. And gone was the surprised, moody man she’d met only moments before.

This Dale Emerson had a fierce determination about him as he drew near, his long-legged strides powerful, his presence almost aggressive as he closed the distance between them.

Catching her in front of the closet, he moved behind her, and she braced herself, thinking he might whisper in her ear or kiss her cheek. Her whole body tensed expectantly, a boneless gathering of muscle as she stood poised and ready to react.

But he simply placed his hand above her head and slid the closet door shut, showcasing them in the full-length mirror. She lifted her gaze to the reflection of his face, a face that had lost much of its familiarity up close. Or perhaps all her bare skin was to blame.

Here was a man reputed to bring women pleasure. And from the way one look from him stoked the spark inside her to a flame, he’d earned his reputation with good reason.

He looked purposeful while she looked surprised. Laura thought she’d nailed this man for who he was, but soon realized that knowing Dale was a charmer and experiencing the effects of his charm were two distinctly different things.

Slipping his arms around her in a whipcord motion, he dragged her backward. She gasped as she came in full contact with his body. His broad chest surrounded her, his muscular thighs molded her backside. A rock-hard erection rode in the small of her back, and just as casually as he pleased, he rested his chin on the top of her head and met her gaze in the mirror.

“You feel good. I knew you would.”

The breezy observation made her stomach swoop wildly. She could feel his every hard inch against her and relished how good he felt.

“But can Ms. Romantic Idealist really handle a fling?”

She understood why he might raise the question. Except for the bare skin, she really didn’t look the part of a woman used to flings. Panty hose. Practical pumps. Nothing-special bra.

If she’d honestly believed Dale would arrive without a date, she might have dressed for a seduction. But her chances had been slim at best. Without Annabelle’s help, she’d have been attending three weeks of events with Adam, who would much rather deal with erotic events from the outside looking in.

“I can handle you, Dale,” she said, sounding very sure of herself. “Just because I declined a fling, doesn’t mean I can’t manage one. I’m a big girl.”

“Yes, you are.”

As if to prove the point, he dragged his hands up her ribs, a deliberate motion showcased in the mirror, visually erotic.

“So, Laura. What did you want to know about me? Were you interested in my stamina or did you ask my former dates for details?” The smoke in his gaze rode out on his voice so there was no missing that details meant sexy details.

“I wasn’t so…specific.”

“No? You didn’t want to know how I would touch you to make you come so many times in a night?” He arched a dark brow. “Or what I like to do to make me come?”

Damn if a blush didn’t start creeping up from her breasts like the sunrise, the downside to her fair skin that she couldn’t stop once it started. And she knew exactly what he was trying to do…well, not trying, doing, given the way her blush deepened.

He tested her, challenged her, because even though he touched her, he hadn’t accepted her offer yet.

“Actually, Dale.” He was about to find out that she was made of sterner stuff than he gave her credit for. “Your former dates were all so thrilled with your performances that they offered the information without much inducement.”

“I’m glad I’ve left behind some happy women, but I much prefer to think about you asking for intimate details. Don’t you want to know what I like to do in bed?”