This undercover wedding assignment was new territory.
They made it a few steps before he slipped on a pair of black-rimmed glasses. “Smile.” He pointed to one side of the rims. “Camera.”
He extended a hand to her.
She took it.
His hold kept them tethered together as they moved toward the two massive doors at the lodge’s entrance. With their fingers tangled, an unfamiliar calmness settled around her.
An inlaid wooden image of an elk in a meadow crossed the double doors of the entryway. He opened the lobby door for her, still not releasing her fingers. The rustic elegance of the reception area screamed luxury. Huge, polished log beams crossed high above on the ceiling. A bank of clear glass windows filled the entire side of the room, giving an impressive view of the forest behind. An elk-horn chandelier hung above a sitting area and fireplace.
How easy it would be to imagine herself cuddled up right there in front of a raging fire stroking hands with someone special. Except it was summer, so there wouldn’t be any fires. And she was with William, so stroking was off-limits. Also, she was covered in dried sludge. There was also that.
The rough pad of his thumb brushed her knuckles as she stepped inside.
Or not.
She did her best to ignore his touch, but her body had other ideas.
She couldn’t allow any intimacy between them. The pretend honeymoon gig was a front, nothing more. He spelled trouble. A link to a past better forgotten, and he had no place in her future.
He released her hand, and a ridiculous emptiness settled through her, but she had a part to play—doting new wife and all that entailed. She fidgeted with a cup of pens on the front desk while he checked them into the honeymoon suite.
A small part of her hoped they’d lost the Monroe reservation, as had happened to so many other couples. The charade would end, and they’d head back to Confluence.
“Mr. Monroe, I hope you’ll have a wonderful stay with us.” The front desk hostess’s gaze ran the length of him. Her black blazer matched her dark hair, and she had an exotic vibe about her that would bring most men to their knees.
“I’m sure we will,” he replied, apparently oblivious to being checked-out while being checked-in. “Is there a laundry service available?”
“We have a full service housekeeping staff available to assist you with laundry. If I can help with anything else, let me know. The library’s next to the conference room. There’s a wine reception here in the lobby at six. And don’t hesitate to let me know if you require anything else.” She slid their room keys into a small envelope.
“Darling.” Lucy did her best to be the dutiful wife. She rubbed her hand up his arm for effect, channeling Marilyn Monroe even if the word came out sounding like a disjointed Lucille Ball. “I don’t think I want to go to a wine reception tonight. I’d rather drink alone.” Moths had clearly taken up residence in her brain. “Alone. But with you.”
Right.
She bit her lower lip and winked at him for good measure. Peacocking. That’s what she was doing, and not well.
Time for the big guns.
The five second flirt: smile your biggest smile for a full five seconds and watch the magic happen. Men turned to putty. Or so Katie had told her. Personally, she’d never tried it before.
Anyway.
Lips tilted up. Appear delighted.
Happy.
Pleased.
Amused.
Dash of tenderness.
And… The edges of William’s lips twitched. He wasn’t putty. He was laughing.
Right. Improv flirting. Not her thing. Good to know. Look at that, she’d already learned new things about herself on her first hidden camera honeymoon.
Oh God.
He was wearing the damn glasses, so it was on camera. He swallowed hard and put the back of his hand against her cheek as if checking for fever, but he did it so cavalier, it must have appeared endearing to their desk clerk audience. “You okay, Luce?”
Nerves purring, moths flying in her brain…and he called her Luce. Now who was putty?
“Great.” The word came out high-pitched and a teensy bit screechy. She should stop now, get the nerves and the moths under control, and smuggle herself back to Confluence.
But his hand brushed the apple of her cheek, and her knees turned to apricot jelly.
“I’ll just…go peek at the brochures,” she muttered.
Something a normal bride would do even if for her it meant tucking her outrageous tail feathers and running.
The desk clerk stood with her head tilted to the side. “Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you, Mrs. Monroe.”
Lucy backed away and did her best not to fall on her face on the way to the wall of brochures about…fly-fishing.
No, thank you. She didn’t care for large bodies of water. She browsed a flyer for a local bar instead.
“Hey.” William’s warm whisper teased the hairs at her neck. He rested his palm on her shoulder which, thanks to the mud situation, meant his hand settled mostly on naked skin and a tiny bit of satin.
Which, of course, meant putty.
“All checked in. Did you find anything interesting, darling?” He drawled that last part too long, his eyes bright with clear amusement.
He totally had her number when he smiled at her. For a full five seconds.
She wasn’t putty anymore. Nope, she was pretty much a goopy mess of Lucy.
He raised his eyebrow and nodded to the brochures she held. “What’d ya find?”
“Fly fishing and bars.” She held up the two flyers, one in each hand.
“Sounds like the makings of the best day of my life.” His gaze moved over the photos of the fishing brochure. “Babe, we’re goin’ fishing.”
She so was not going fishing. “Babe?”
“You didn’t seem to care for Snookums. Figured I’d keep trying ’til I find one you like.”
She cringed. “You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been called many, many worse things.”
“I don’t fish.”
“First time for everything, Honey Pie.” He snagged her hand and tugged her along beside him.
He’d called most of the members of his harem in Florida that particular endearment. “I hate that name the most, Will.”
He paused, everything about him turning abruptly serious. “Then I’ll have to keep trying, won’t I?”
Crap.
…
The honeymoon suite turned out to be even nicer than the hotel lobby, which said a lot. Lucy kicked off her shoes and curled her toes into the plush carpet. Tonight she would sleep in luxury.
“This place is amazing, Will.” She traced a fingertip along one of the ribbons on the pillowcases. “These have to be over a thousand-thread-count. Come here and feel.”
He dropped an armful of bags. “I’ll feel up the bedding when I get back. One more trip ought to do it.”
“Do you want any help?” She glanced up.
“Nope, enjoy your time with the pillows.” He grinned a told-you-you’d-like-it smile and tugged the door closed behind him.
She sorted through the bags of equipment he’d left along the wall.
The oversize picture window framed the wilderness surrounding the lodge. The sound of a keycard in the door knocked her back to reality. The door didn’t open.
“Will?” she called.
Nothing.
She peeked through the eyehole. The man on the other side was not William.
“Can I help you?” Lucy squinted into the small fisheye hole that made everything outside look wonky.
Tall and built like one of those heavy-duty trucks, he shoved the keycard in once more. The reader buzzed and clunked, but the door wouldn’t open.
He paused, key still inserted and flipped over the envelope in his hand. “Sorry. I think they gave us the wrong room.”
William had said the resort had a reputation for double booking rooms. T
hey had all been given the same room. Simple. This was the reason he had come with cameras on a secret consumer news mission.
“Hold on.” Lucy rummaged through the equipment bags to find a camera. “Just a second.”
With no time to do anything but set it on the dresser, she flicked the thing on. The angle would be crap, but maybe she’d get something usable.
She peeked through the door into the hall again. A sandy-haired woman with huge Precious Moments eyes stepped into view, and the man slung his arm around her shoulder.
Lucy pushed back the bolt and opened the door a sliver. “Hi. I think the lodge made a mistake. My husband will be right back. I’m sure he won’t mind walking to the front desk with you to sort this out.”
William picked that moment to step around the corner with the bags. “What’s going on, Sugar Lips?” He did that drawl again. The teasing should have pissed her off, but damn it was kind of cute. He moved forward and kissed her on the forehead as he stepped through the entry.
Jelly. Not just her knees this time. Her whole body whimpered.
“Looks like they gave us the same room.” The other man waited in the hallway with his wife.
William dropped the bags beside the bed. Two beats, and he held out his hand confidently to the Mack-truck dude. “William.”
The man shook it. “Max.”
“What do you say we head to the front desk and find out what’s going on, yeah?” William asked the guy.
Without waiting for a response, William moved, and they followed. A magnet. He drew people to him, with him, beside him. As he closed the door, his eyes caught hers, and he said softly, “B-roll, babe. We need raw footage of everything.”
“You’re so bossy.” She settled her hands on her waist, her elbows flared. “And seriously, Sugar Lips?”
He glanced to her mud-soaked shirt. “I’ll grab you something to wear from the gift shop.” A wink and he slipped on the glasses.
The door closed, and Lucy stood alone in the big room with all the bags and a big bed she’d likely not get to sleep in after all.
Chapter Eight
William and Lucy got demoted to Cabin Number Six—down by the lake.
Of course they wouldn’t kick a real couple out of the honeymoon suite on their actual honeymoon. Simple and private—that’s what the front desk clerk assured William when he offered to move out of the suite. The suite Lucy had seemed really into. And since he was really into Lucy, the last thing he wanted was to disappoint her. It’s not like she’d been excited to tag along on this little excursion anyway.
While the cabin wasn’t the luxury of the suite, it wasn’t awful.
William had re-loaded the bags, sent Lucy’s clothes to be cleaned, and waited while she changed into the only clothes he could find in the gift shop. The pajama bottoms had Princess stamped across her ass. They fit snugly around the aforementioned backside, the waistband resting just below her navel. She filled out the word Princess perfectly, and he made no attempt to hide his gawking. He could get behind whatever declarations she wanted to display on her ass at any point during their trip.
The simple cabin had a living and bedroom combo that made up the majority of the large room with a fireplace on one side and a kitchenette on the other. A giant bed crafted from logs faced the doorway. The bathroom only had a shower, but they could live with that. No television, though. That would be harder to live with.
He and Lucy went to work, taping footage of the space before he moved in their bags.
William itched to get out of the monkey suit he’d had on since they left KDVX. In the bathroom, he changed into jeans and a plaid button-down shirt. Before he hung up the suit coat, he retrieved the worn envelope he carried with him all the time. He ran his finger along the edge and tapped it on the counter before closing his eyes and leaning his forehead on the mirror. His future was secure in Confluence. That’s what mattered. It’s what his mom had worked so hard for, and he swore to himself he wouldn’t let her down again. This would be his last story as a reporter, and he’d make it a good one. Then he’d run her company just as she would have.
He leaned away from his reflection and took a deep breath before opening his eyes and slipping the envelope back into his pocket.
“You want to check my footage before I put everything away?” Lucy asked as he emerged from the bathroom.
“I need to?” He dumped his clothes on a chair.
“Nope.”
“Then no.”
She frowned slightly. She frowned a lot around him, especially in the truck. Like he was a puzzle she tried to solve, but a piece was missing.
The curtains on the window near the small sofa revealed a picture window framing the lake.
“You swim?” he asked.
“No.”
“Not at all?”
“Not at all,” she replied.
“Why?”
“Sharks.”
William banked the smile that tugged at his mouth. He gestured to the window. “Not too many sharks in a freshwater lake.”
“I don’t swim.” She shook her head, her hair tumbling in a wave over her shoulders. “Not my thing.”
“Because of sharks?” His fingertips prickled with the desire to run through her hair.
“Originally, yeah.”
“More, Luce,” he said.
Her eyes warmed, and her mouth went slack. He had noted she did that whenever he called her Luce.
That was better than the frown.
“I lived by the ocean growing up. Lots of sharks. They scared me, so I never learned to swim.” She shrugged.
Since that first day at the truck stop, this was possibly the most she had ever shared with him.
“You lived by the ocean?” He dropped to the bed and propped himself up on an elbow.
“Uh…yup.” She started unpacking the remnants of her bag into one of the dresser drawers, and her shirt lifted just enough to expose the small of her back as she bent over.
His gaze lingered. “Your parents didn’t teach you to swim even with a giant body of water right outside the door?” Living next to the ocean and not learning to swim was ludicrous—like being from Colorado and never going skiing. Sacrilege.
“Nope.” She rubbed her hands together.
“I’ll teach you to swim.” He leaned toward her. “At the lake. It’ll be fun.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Sharks.”
William grinned. God, she was adorable.
“We need food. I haven’t eaten in hours.” She obviously angled to change the subject.
“Right, I forgot.” He removed the spa voucher from his wallet and handed it to her.
She glanced at it. “What’s this?”
“Spa voucher. Compliments of the resort for making us move. I’m not into pedicures, and I figured you’d enjoy it.”
“I say, ‘I need food’ and you hand me a coupon for a pedicure?” She studied the slip of paper.
“They also comped our meals while we’re here, so we can head to dinner whenever. Or they said they’d deliver something tonight if we want since it was their screw up.”
“I need food,” she said again.
“You want to order?” He snagged a menu from the nightstand.
“I hoped if I said it again, you might pull a manicure from your wallet next.” She grinned now, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say she was flirting. Damn, she had a killer smile when she used it—which wasn’t often enough.
“You’re cute.” He tossed her the menu.
She caught it in one hand.
“It’ll probably take a bit for delivery. I’m going exploring. Order me a burger, babe.” He stood from the bed.
“Stop calling me ‘babe.’”
“Stop being adorable.”
Her eyes moved from the menu to stare at him with a terrified gleam. “I’m not adorable.”
“Uh-huh.” He slipped on his shoes.
“I can’t
believe you’re leaving me alone on our honeymoon,” she huffed.
“As you pointed out, Princess, it’s not a real one.” He’d prefer to go exploring with her, but he needed to return calls.
Taking over a broadcast empire the size of Crestone entailed a lot of meetings, phone calls, and paperwork. The attorneys handled the majority of the paperwork, but he still had to attend an obscene number of meetings. Every time he checked his phone, five or ten more voicemails needed attention. Most of the calls came from the attorneys, sometimes from his father, occasionally from Parker.
“Later, Princess.” He didn’t turn around as he left the cabin, but he knew her eyes never left his back.
…
Exploring for William meant arguing with his father, and hoping his chest wouldn’t implode from lack of oxygen, while sitting on the beach near the lodge. By the time he finished, he was hungry, tired, and as grumpy as Lucy in the morning. He’d expected once the judgment came through, his father would quit jerking him around. Turned out the verdict only ignited his father’s anger, and Dad was on a mission to continue running not only the company, but also William’s life.
When he finally got back to the cabin, he found Lucy sprawled on the bed, asleep, and the table near the kitchenette set with two trays. One tray was picked over while the silver room service cover remained fitted on the other. He lifted it and took a bite of tepid hamburger.
After he finished eating, he cased the cabin. Room service had delivered a six-pack of beer with dinner, a bottle of wine, and a Thank You note from the manager.
All he wanted right now was to sit and watch a game. Any game. He’d even take a soccer game or NASCAR if it meant a break from the lunacy going on in his head about his dad, his company, and Lucy spread eagle on the bed. And he hated soccer and NASCAR. Now, Lucy spread eagle…that he could get used to.
Her mouth moved as if she carried on an important conversation even in sleep. It was probably creepy that he enjoyed watching her this much. He didn’t particularly care because, well, he did enjoy watching her. At least asleep she didn’t seem angry with him for dragging her along on his assignment.
The Honeymoon Trap Page 7