“You’re getting there, Luke. Don’t get discouraged. Habits can be really hard to break.” Her heart ached for him. He was so determined to do the right thing, and yet sometimes so confused about what that was. Her issues with Bryce were a walk in the park compared to Luke’s struggle to gracefully make the transition after his dad’s death.
He’d automatically assumed that he should be the head of the family as well as CEO of the corporation. But there was no head of the family now. His role was cherished brother and friend to his sister.
No wonder he’d been so autocratic with Cynthia in the beginning. “Don’t forget that your sister knows exactly which buttons to push to test you and throw you into a panic.”
“Yeah, she does.” His gaze lingered on her, the light in his eyes warm. “I’m glad you’re here, Giselle. God knows what kind of mess I would have made if you hadn’t been.”
“I won’t insult your intelligence by contradicting that statement.”
He laughed. “I’m even glad your brother is here. I’m sure he’s the one who convinced Cynthia to turn this into a game instead of a vendetta.”
“I think he was.”
“Come on, then.” Still holding her hand, he started up the steps to the cabin’s front porch. “Let’s find out what our brilliant siblings cooked up for us.” Luke hesitated in front of the cabin’s rustic wooden door. “We’re dry so far, but once we go in, all bets are off. Normally I hold the door for a lady, but in this case…”
She slipped her hand from his. “Go for it. Be my hero.”
“Do I get a reward for bravery?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.
“Absolutely.”
“Excellent. I’m going in.” Grasping the knob, he pushed open the door. Nothing happened. “Maybe I have to be inside.” He stepped into the room. Still nothing.
“I’m right behind you.” Giselle followed him through the door. “It’s warm in here. They left the heat on.”
“And the video going.” Luke walked over to the TV. “This one’s from her senior year in high school. She was in a lot of numbers that year.”
Giselle moved farther into the room. All the curtains were closed, which made seeing the video easier. Cynthia danced with a group this time. Giselle counted ten girls in identical sparkly outfits of royal blue. The implication that Cynthia wanted to be part of a dancing group again was unmistakable.
For the first time, Giselle saw Cynthia dancing and not simply caught in a still photograph. Bryce had probably seen this video, too, and thank goodness he wasn’t romantically attracted to Cynthia. The video showed that a beautiful child of fourteen had become a stunning woman of eighteen. And wow, could she dance.
Giselle drew closer. “She’s good, Luke. I’m no expert at these things, but she looks perfectly at home on the stage.”
“She always has been.” He stood, hands in the pockets of his jeans, his attention riveted to the screen. “You’ve been right all along. If she doesn’t give dancing a shot, she’ll regret it. And she’ll resent me for opposing her.”
“I think so.” Giselle slipped an arm around his waist. “As you said, at least she’ll be at the Silver Crescent, where you can keep an eye on things.”
Luke wrapped his arm around Giselle’s shoulders. “No water trick yet. Do you suppose they’ve rigged it to the DVD, so whoever takes it out gets drenched?”
“Let’s open the curtains so we can see what might be lurking in the shadows. After all, I’m a Landry, too. I might be able to figure out what Bryce has set up. That would give me some satisfaction, actually.”
“Me too.” He squeezed her shoulder and released her. “But let me open the curtains. That would be a perfect booby trap.”
“Good thinking.” She stayed where she was while Luke pulled cords that opened the curtains at each window. Again, nothing happened.
But she could see her surroundings much better. Logs were arranged in the stone fireplace as if waiting for the touch of a match. Positioned in front of it were a couch and two chairs upholstered in a green plaid that fit the rustic decor.
The coffee table and two end tables were made from diagonal slices of a large tree trunk placed on a wrought-iron base. Bark rimmed the edges, but the surfaces were polished and lacquered.
“Nice place,” Giselle said. “Cozy.”
“It would be if I didn’t expect a jet of water to come shooting out at me at any minute.” He walked over to the TV and crouched down, examining it from all angles. “I can’t see a single thing out of place, but you’d better stand back while I take the DVD out.”
“Sure thing.” She edged away from the TV. If this was Bryce’s grand finale, it could be a doozy.
Luke gingerly extracted the DVD from the player and turned the machine off, along with the television. Letting out a breath, he stepped back. “That was anticlimactic.”
“I’ll bet they decided not to do a water trick and figured we’d go crazy waiting for it.”
Luke nodded. “Makes sense. And that strategy’s working. I’m like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”
“Speaking of rocking chairs, we could go sit on the porch. That setup looks innocent enough.”
Tucking the disc in the case lying next to the DVD player, he turned to her, a gleam in his eyes. “I’m not in the mood for innocent.”
“Oh?” She’d seen that gleam before. She liked it. It produced a delicious response in her willing body.
“Here’s how I see our situation. They want to meet us at eight tonight, correct?”
“Correct.”
“And do you think we should go along with their timetable?”
“I do. If they’re finally willing to talk, I don’t want to scare them off by trying to set up something sooner.”
He tossed the DVD on the couch and came toward her. “I happen to agree with that, which leaves us with several hours to fill.”
“So it does.” She had no trouble reading his mind, and her heart thudded in anticipation.
“Coincidentally, we’re all alone in a cute little cabin in the woods. But first I need you to tell me the absolute truth. If you’re still sore, then—”
“I’m fine.”
His gaze searched hers.
“Really, Luke. I’m recovered. Magic Epsom salts.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “I’d be a fool to argue the point.” Heat radiated from him as he stood inches away. Without touching her, he managed to surround her with that heat. “Do you suppose there’s a bed around here somewhere?”
She breathed in his virile scent, and a shiver of delight ran through her. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Then let’s go find it.” Lacing his strong fingers through hers, he led her toward a doorway on the far side of the living room. “Bingo.” He drew her inside.
She gave the room a quick glance, although under the circumstances, she wasn’t about to be picky. But it was a lovely setting. The curtains were open. Tall pines outside the window filtered the sunlight, creating a dappled effect on the navy quilt covering the king-sized bed set into a dark walnut frame.
Looking up at him, she allowed the desire she felt to shine in her eyes. “It will do nicely.”
“Oh, yeah.” Luke gathered her into his arms and backed toward the bed. “Come roll around on the mattress with me, pretty lady. I have the urge to muss you up.”
Laughing, she put up a token protest. “Let’s take off our clothes first. Then we won’t go back looking so—”
“Like we’ve been having sex? I’ve stopped caring whether they know or not.”
“But—”
“Relax. Have fun. Let me wrestle you out of your clothes. And you can wrestle me out of mine.”
“Oh, what the hell.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Why not?”
“That’s the spirit. Hang on. Here we go!” Falling back onto the mattress, he hauled her down with him.
The mattress rolled under them with a sloshing sound. Then what ha
d appeared to be dappled shadows on the comforter began to spread.
“Luke…”
He closed his eyes and sighed. “I know. Water bed. And it’s leaking.”
Chapter Twenty
The combined weight of Luke and Giselle rapidly pushed water up through the quilt and into the material of his jeans and shirt. “Just slide off me,” he said, “and you won’t get wet.”
“Got it.” She eased backward, but the mattress rippled with every move she made.
As the cold water oozed up around him, Luke began to laugh. They hadn’t even taken pity on him and left the bed’s heater on. He’d been in some ridiculous situations in his life, but this might win the prize.
“Give me your hands.” Giselle stood, feet braced on either side of his knees, and leaned forward. “I’ll pull you out.”
“I don’t know.” He cleared the laughter from his throat. “I’m pretty heavy. And the wetter my clothes get, the heavier I’ll be.”
“I’m braced against the bed frame. Your legs are still dangling over the edge. Press your heels against the frame. We can do it.” She wiggled her fingers. “Grab hold before you get any wetter.”
“Okay.” He placed his hands in hers and shoved his heels against the bed frame. He was impressed by the strength of her grip.
“On three. One, two, three.” She pulled, and he heaved himself upward. She staggered backward a few steps. His feet hit the floor, and he tightened his hold on her hands. They stayed upright.
She grinned. “See? Piece of cake.”
He returned her smile. “Thanks, Wonder Woman.”
“Ah, it was mostly leverage. No big deal. So how wet are you?”
“Check it out.” He turned around.
“Wow. The back of you is soaked through. You’d better take everything off.”
“Great suggestion.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Hang on to that thought while I see what’s going on with this water bed.”
“Well, I hope you know something about them, because I know zero about those things.”
“My parents used to have one.” He walked back to the bed. “Theirs developed a leak in the middle of the night. I’m sure Cynthia remembers the hullabaloo, which gave her the idea for this trick.” He folded back the soggy quilt and the wet sheets.
Just that little bit of pressure caused water to puddle on the plastic surface. As he wiped it away with a corner of the sheet, he could see a tiny pinprick. He wondered how many there were. It might not have taken many.
He continued to roll the bedding out of the way. “Would you please see if there’s a plastic shower curtain in the bathroom? And if there is, would you unhook it and bring it in here? I want to strip all this off.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.” As he exposed more of the mattress, he discovered a few other tiny holes. As he’d learned from the incident with his parents’ bed, that would be enough to cause chaos.
When he uncovered the very middle of the bed, he found a sealed plastic bag with a piece of paper inside. “Looks like they left us a love note,” he called out to Giselle.
“What’s it say?” She came back into the room with a forest-themed plastic shower curtain in her arms.
“I’m about to find out.” He wiped his hands on a dry section of sheet before unsealing the bag and taking out the paper. “My darling brother,” he read aloud. “If you’re reading this, I apologize for denying you and Giselle some water bed fun. But…gotcha, LOL!
Knowing you, and I do, you’re going all paranoid about the potential damage from this stunt. Bryce and I spent hours arranging it, and more hours rigging it up, with permission from the owner, who is in possession of a sizable damage deposit. We put a layer of plastic under the bed to protect the floor. A cleaning crew will come in tomorrow and replace the water bed and frame with the original bed that goes in this cabin.
All the holes are on top, so if you don’t disturb the mattress more than you already have, all should be well. Leave everything as is, if you can stand to do that, which you probably can’t, but that’s up to you, Bro. See you in the penthouse at 8 p.m. Smoochies, Your loving sister and future Moonbeams dancer, Cynthia.”
He glanced up. “I’ll be damned.”
“She sounds as thorough and responsible as you are, Mr. Dalton.” Giselle looked at him with a bemused expression. “Still want this?” She lifted the shower curtain she’d been holding.
“I don’t know.” Folding the note, he surveyed the wet bedding. It had soaked up the water that had oozed out while Bryce and Cynthia had remade the bed to set their trap. If he left it there, it would continue to absorb any other possible leakage, but since all the holes were on top, as his sister had mentioned, there wouldn’t be much.
Moving all of it into the bathroom, as he’d planned, would accomplish little except to transfer the sogginess to a different location. “I guess not.” Still holding the note, he walked toward her. “But I’ll put the shower curtain back up.”
“Nope.” She stepped out of reach. “I’ll do it while you light the fire and start drying your clothes.”
“Oh.” Thoughts of a leaking water bed and his rebellious sister evaporated in the heat of her gaze.
She winked at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about all those hours we have to fill.”
His breath caught at the rich sensuality in her voice. “I got momentarily distracted.” That seemed inconceivable now, as his heart hammered and his groin tightened. “It won’t happen again.”
“I doubt it will. Meet you in front of the fire.” Her hips swayed provocatively as she walked away from him. His soft groan was greeted with laughter. “Better hurry, Luke. It won’t take me long to hang up this shower curtain.”
Galvanized by that thought, he headed for the living room. He tucked Cynthia’s note in the pocket of his jacket. Then he realized the couch was cluttered with their jackets and the DVD.
He moved it all to a chair, because he envisioned using the couch for the activities they’d been denied on the water bed. But when he examined the couch more closely, he realized it was a futon. Bonus. Releasing the back turned it into the equivalent of a double bed. Not quite the king he would have preferred, but far better than the couch he’d planned to work with.
They’d also want to be near the fire. He set aside the coffee table and pulled the futon closer to the hearth. Next he became aware of how many windows existed in this room compared to the bedroom. If someone were to come up on the porch… He didn’t relish putting on a show. He locked the front door and closed all the curtains.
Finally he turned his attention to the fireplace and checked the flue to be sure it was open before flicking the butane lighter to ignite the kindling. He couldn’t help wondering if the logs in the fireplace, the open flue, and the handy butane lighter had been Cynthia’s work, too. She used to love family vacations up in the mountains, and they’d always rented a cabin with a fireplace.
Once the flames began licking at the dry wood, he set the screen in place, got to his feet, and stripped off his damp shirt.
“You can hang your clothes on this. I thought you’d be done by now.” Giselle walked in carrying a wooden kitchen chair. “Whoa, is that a futon?”
“If it isn’t, I just broke their couch.”
“I’m sure it’s a futon. Sure is dark in here, though.”
“Think you’ll have trouble finding me?”
“Nope. I’ll just listen for the sound of heavy breathing.”
“Very funny.” But true. Now that she was back, he was primed and ready for action. “Thanks for the chair.” He took it from her and positioned it to one side of the fireplace.
“You’re welcome. When I went to find a chair, I discovered something else. If we’d followed the urgings of our stomachs instead of our hormones, we would have known that our siblings left food for us in the kitchen.”
“You’re kidding.” He arranged his shirt over the back of the chair. “Do you think
it’s safe to eat?”
“Depends on whether you believe that her note was written in good faith, but I’d say yes. Their pranks have involved water, not food.” She handed him a piece of paper.
Luke quickly read the note.
Dearest brother,
A bucket of fried chicken and some coleslaw are in the refrigerator. There’s ground coffee in a can next to the coffeepot, along with some coffee filters. I didn’t leave you any booze because I don’t want you drinking and driving. Not that you would, come to think of it.
Smoochies,
Your loving and talented sister,
Cynthia
She kept dinging him for his ultraresponsible behavior. Or was she paying him a compliment? He didn’t really know, but she’d demonstrated that she could be just as responsible, as Giselle had said earlier.
Either on her own or with Bryce’s urging, Cynthia had made sure her prank hadn’t ruined anything, and she’d left food for her victims in case they chose to stay at the cabin. Knowing that, Luke was certain she’d also provided the firewood.
He started toward the chair where he’d put their jackets so he could put this note with the first one.
“I’ll take it.” Giselle held out her hand. “You still have some wet clothes to get out of.”
“I swear you’re getting bossier than me.” But he smiled as he handed over the note. “Just tuck it in the pocket of my jacket.” He nudged off his shoes.
“Done. Nice fire, by the way.”
“Thanks. FYI, you’re free to start on your clothes anytime, too.” He reached down and pulled off his socks, which had stayed dry.
“You don’t want to wrestle me out of my clothes, after all?”
“It’s not as much fun if we don’t have a big bed to roll around on.” He reached for the fastening of his jeans. “Besides, I’m getting impatient.”
She glanced pointedly at his crotch. “I can tell.”
“Are you gloating?” He started taking off his soggy jeans.
“Who, me?”
“Yeah, you.” Getting out of the jeans wasn’t simple, but he managed it without falling down. He could have used two chairs to hold his clothes, but with some creative rearranging, he spaced them out on one. “You’re gloating over the rigid condition of my sexual equipment.”
Werewolf in Las Vegas: Wild About You Page 19