Beautiful Confusion (New Adult Romance) Room 105

by Whitefeather, Sheri

  The hostess gave us menus and served us lemon-garnished water. She was a trendy redhead around our age, and I liked the way she smiled at us, as if she thought we were a cool couple.

  We studied the menus for a while, then the waitress came by. We agreed on roasted bell peppers and mozzarella sticks as our appetizers, intending to share them.

  For my entrée I chose cheese ravioli, and he ordered chicken Milano. We planned to share those, too, and eat off of each other’s plates, as Duncan had suggested.

  While we waited for our food, I glanced at his wrists. His jacket sleeves were rolled up, and I could see his tattoos.

  “When did you get those?” I asked.

  “On my eighteenth birthday, which was also my last day in foster care. I got them as a gift to myself.”

  “To mark your freedom?”

  “And my unknown identity. Most Natives get tattoos that are affiliated with their tribe or their ancestors, but I couldn’t do that. So I created my own designs with symbols taken from different tribes.”

  I noticed that both tattoos were identical, with the same bold patterns. “What do the symbols mean?”

  He pointed to two black arrows facing opposite directions. “This means war.” He traced the lines of a broken arrow. “And this is often regarded as a symbol of peace.”

  I touched the broken one, too. “You used this in the painting you did of the ranch house.” The picture he’d called Life. “Did you incorporate it into the painting to create a sense of peace?”

  He nodded. “That’s what I was feeling when I painted it.”

  Checking out more of his tattoo, I followed the path of a long, squiggly line.

  “That’s a snake,” he said.

  “What do snakes represent?”

  “Lots of things. Defiance, transformation, hidden secrets, magic, sexuality.”

  My fingers stumbled over his skin when he said the last one. “Does it mean all of those things to you?”

  “Yes. Especially sexuality.” He ran his finger over the top of mine. “I like sex, more than I probably should, but you already know that.”

  “Yes, I already know.” Dazed, I arched my body toward his. If I were a cat, I would have climbed in his lap and rubbed against his fly. I would have purred, too.

  The waitress appeared, and I snapped out of my kittydom.

  She set our first course on the table. After she was gone, I reached for a mozzarella stick.

  I bit into it, and my desire came back. Duncan was watching me eat the appetizer, the gooiness sticking to my lips. I scraped off the melted cheese, using my tongue and teeth.

  I handed him the rest of the stick. “You take a bite now.”

  He didn’t follow my order. Instead he said, “You’re seducing me, Vanessa.”

  “I am?”

  “Yeah.” He leaned forward and kissed me.

  Holy heaven. Just like that. This was it. My first kiss. His mouth was warm and moist against mine. He didn’t use his tongue, but he nibbled at me, as if I was part of his meal. I squeezed my thighs together to keep from moaning.

  I kissed him back, mimicking what he did to me. I was learning from the best. I wanted to gobble him up. But I went slowly, reminding myself that we were in a public place.

  He ended it softly, cupping my face, just once, before he let me go. Our eyes had been closed, but now they were open, and we were looking at each other. Just inches from us, the candle in the Chianti bottle flickered, white wax dripping over the sides.

  “I hadn’t intended to do that here,” Duncan said. “I was going to wait until we were alone.”

  “Can we do it again when we’re alone?” I wanted to taste him, as many times as I could.

  “Definitely.” He skewered a piece of roasted pepper and offered it me. “But for now, we need to behave.”

  If feeding each other was behaving, I was all for it.

  We spent the rest of our dinner passing food back and forth. Eating had never been this much fun. Nothing had ever been this much fun. By the time we got to dessert, I was in sugar-rush heaven.

  We shared a slice of sinfully rich cake, layered with fudge and topped with mousse. Everything about this night was delicious.

  Including Duncan.

  Chapter Six

  After dinner, we went to The Mission Inn Hotel & Spa because Duncan had heard about it and wanted to see it. It was too late to take a tour, but we were able to wander around and enjoy what we could. The Mission Inn was a landmark in Riverside. I’d been there before and knew its history.

  In the late 1800s it was a twelve-room adobe boarding house. Then, over the years, it morphed into the enormous structure that it was today, an architectural wonder with eclectic styles. What had begun as a Mission Revival project now boasted influences from all over the world, including Moorish, Italian Renaissance, Spanish Baroque, Chinese, and Japanese details. There was even a wedding chapel with a hand-carved altar. Everywhere you looked there was something to see. The hotel spanned a full city block.

  To me, it was like a fairytale castle, with stunning towers, minarets, flying buttresses, domes, fountains, statues, catacombs, bells, sconce-lit passageways, gargoyles, balconies, spiral staircases, stained glass, glittering enclaves, lush gardens, and a skybridge between buildings.

  Duncan seemed awed by its complexity. We stopped to admire an artifact in the Spanish wing. The Mission Inn was filled with art. There was a museum connected to it, too.

  “This hotel is supposed to be haunted,” I said. “Paranormal activities have been reported in quite a few rooms and in almost all of the hallways.”

  “Oh, wow. Really? I love architecture. It’s a pastime of mine. But haunted buildings are even better.”

  “Alice Miller is one of the ghosts who haunts it. Her family, the Millers, built the original structure, and she managed the hotel until her death in the late 1940s. She liked to sing while she worked.”

  He glanced around. “I wonder if this hallway is haunted.”

  “I guess it could be.” As we stood there, surrounded by old-world charm, a similarity struck me. “Parts of this hotel remind me of your Magic painting.” Like the big stone structure Carol had associated with damsels in distress.

  “Yeah, I suppose it does. But this place has practically every type of architecture rolled into one. It’s much grander than where I envisioned living.”

  “It still has the same kind of magic.” The same kind of sweeping allure. “I could see you living here, too.”

  “Can you imagine?” He approached an ornately designed door that led to a banquet room. It was locked, and that seemed to attract him to it even more. He ran his hand across the wood. “The doors here are exceptional.”

  “Is that why you became a locksmith? To learn to open locked doors?”

  He turned and smiled at me. “I used to break into buildings when I was living on the streets with Jack. I’ve always been able to open locked doors. I just didn’t always do it within the confines of the law.”

  I stared at him. “You were a thief?”

  “Certainly not.” He tapped the end of my nose. “I never stole anything. I just opened buildings and went inside.”

  I scrunched up my face and laughed. He was being sweetly playful. “I’d love to rent a room here someday.”

  “Me, too. I’ve never stayed at a hotel.”

  “Never, ever?” I repeated what he’d said to me when he’d discovered that I’d never been kissed.

  He laughed a little, obviously picking up on the reference. Then he shrugged and said, “I haven’t exactly lived a vacation lifestyle.”

  I understood his point. He’d spent two years with Jack, and three in foster care, feeling like a stranger in other people’s homes. “If I stayed here, I’d want to rent room 105.” I brought up that number purposely, needing to mention it somehow.

  “Is that one of the haunted rooms?”

  “Not that I know of.” Not unless the door to Abby’s dimension wa
s in that room. My pulse went haywire. Was that possible? Could it be the secret location?

  I took what I hoped was a calming breath, reminding myself that 105 might not be real. And if that were the case, there wouldn’t be a secret location. There wouldn’t be anything, except Abby’s delusions, and Duncan’s mind-spinning likeness to a warrior who didn’t exist.

  “So what’s specific about that room?” he asked, continuing our conversation. “Why would you want to stay there?”

  “It’s just a number that has been inside my head for a long time. It’s important to Abby and she made it important to me.” That was as accurate as I could get for now.

  Silent, he furrowed his brow.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked.

  “Like what?”

  “You’re frowning.”

  “I didn’t realize that I was.”

  “Is it because my aunt made you leery of Abby?” I took a step back, moving away from him. “I was so sure that you would take our side and not Carol’s.”

  “I am on your side, Vanessa.” He came toward me. “Don’t ever think that I’m not, okay?”

  I relaxed, feeling immediately better. I needed to hear him say that. I reached for him and we embraced. Then he kissed me, deep and slow and poetically. There was no other way to describe it.

  Flowers and bees and hummingbirds flashed before my eyes. The kiss tasted like nectar on a warm sunny day. My imagination went dizzy with it.

  He deepened the exchange, and I clutched his shoulders. We were alone beside the banquet room door, with a long, luxurious hallway on either side of us.

  As our tongues met and mated, I pressed my body next to his. He backed me against the door and kissed me harder. Our libidos collided, spinning in sensual waves. I was caged by his passion, his hunger, his heat.

  Vanessa Winston. A willing prisoner. He was making up for lost time, for all those years I’d never been kissed.

  Carnal bliss. Sweet beauty.

  When it was over, I said, “Promise me it will be you.”

  He didn’t ask me what I meant. He knew I was asking him to be my first lover. I could feel the shift in his body, the sex-and-sin need.

  “Promise me,” I said again.

  His chest rose and fell, his breathing labored. “Vanessa.”

  I persisted. “Please.”

  I waited, and then he finally said, “I promise. But only when the time is right.”

  I hastily repeated, “Yes, when the time is right,” agreeing to his terms and swooning like a schoolgirl.

  We finished exploring the hotel. We held hands and poked around for ghosts. We didn’t find any, but we enjoyed the hunt.

  By the end of the evening, we were in a garden filled with exotic flowers, the night air caressing our faces. He drew me into his arms and kissed me one last time, using his tongue in the most languid way. I felt as if I were floating in a sea of seduction, with mermen swimming around my feet.

  Duncan played with my hair, dislodging a good number of the pins and scattering them on the ground. An orgasmic sound escaped my lips, and he shuddered.

  When we separated, I was wonderfully askew, blinking at him through owlish eyes.

  “I need to take you home,” he said in a sandpapery voice.

  “I don’t want to go home.” I never wanted to go there again. All I wanted was to be with him.

  “No, seriously, I need to get you home and safely tucked into your bed.”

  As opposed to being unsafely tucked into his? I smiled. “Because you don’t trust yourself not to take me to your house instead and have your wicked way with me?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly why.” He tried to fix my hair, but he realized that the damage he’d done wasn’t repairable, not with the pins on the ground.

  “I’ll take care of it.” I would go into a restroom and make myself presentable again. I had extra bobby pins in my purse.

  He leaned his forehead against mine. “You make me feel things I shouldn’t feel.”

  “I like that you’re feeling them.” I wanted to affect him that way for the rest of our young, sensual lives.

  He escorted me to the nearest powder room and I righted my appearance, re-pinning my hair and reapplying my lipstick.

  We left the hotel, and he drove me home. Together, we stood on the porch.

  “When can I see you again?” he asked.

  “Whenever you want.” I would make myself readily available for him.

  “How about next Friday? We can have a bonfire at the beach.”

  The only time I’d ever been to the beach at night was on the Fourth of July when I was a kid. But that was before my parents had died, so I barely remembered it. These days, my stunted social life didn’t include those types of activities. Of course now that I was with Duncan, things were starting to change.

  “Can we roast marshmallows?” I asked.

  “Sure.” He was looking at me as if I was the prettiest girl on earth. “I’ll bring everything we need. I’ll text you and we’ll set up a time.”

  I pitched into his arms, and he gave me a chaste hug at the door. Or as chaste as he could manage. He was still reeling from earlier, and so was I.

  We said goodbye, and I watched him walk to his truck. My first date was over, but the romance on which I was embarking had just begun.

  ***

  In the morning, I prepared for an impromptu visit with Abby, and stressed about what I was supposed to say to her.

  Guess what, sis? A man who might be the warrior arrived and his name is Duncan, just like the name you gave him. He took me out last night and now all I can think about is climbing into bed with him—when I’m not worried about him dying. Oh, and Aunt Carol thinks I should stay away from you. That you’re not good for me.

  God, no. I shook my head and rummaged through my closet. I couldn’t say that. I would have to leave Carol out of it.

  I chose a simple ensemble—a pair of jeans and a T-shirt—and put my hair in a single braid down my back, looking far less glamorous than I did on my date with Duncan. My makeup was minimal and my shoes were black and white sneakers with pink laces.

  I grabbed my bag, the same boho fringe I’d used last night. Carol was awake but she hadn’t come out of her room yet, so I left the house before she could ask me where I was going.

  For breakfast, I ate a bagel in the car on the way to The Manor, dropping crumbs on my lap.

  When I got there, a surge of fear crept over me and I sat behind the wheel. I couldn’t leave the vehicle. I couldn’t visit Abby. I was too afraid that I would do or say the wrong thing and make her suspicious about what was going on with our aunt. If I didn’t handle this right, my sister might insist that I stop communicating with Carol, and then I would get caught in the crossfire, worse than I already was.

  Since Abby wasn’t expecting me today, she wouldn’t be hurt when I didn’t show up. I had an easy out.

  Still, I felt like a rotten sister. I hated that Carol had put me in this position. Plus, there was the dilemma of my shaky belief in Room 105. Abby would be convinced that Duncan was the warrior I created. She would start bugging me about meeting him.

  So maybe I should introduce them. Maybe I should talk to Duncan and explain everything to him. Then, once he knew what was going on, I could bring him to see Abby and he could relay his thoughts and feelings to her.

  Whatever his thoughts and feelings turned out to be.

  I highly doubted that he was going to believe it. But at least he would know the truth and I could stop hiding my 105 fears and the panic that he was going die.

  I wrapped my arms around my middle. No matter who Duncan was, he was taking over my life. He was part of me, whether I created him or not.

  I drove home and entered the house. Carol was in the living room, so I couldn’t avoid her.

  She came rushing over to me. “Where have you been?” she asked, tugging at her robe.

  “Nowhere.”

  “You
went somewhere, Vanessa.”

  I told her the truth. “I went to see Abby, but then I changed my mind and came back without seeing her.”

  She looked pleased. “It’s better this way, honey.”

  Yes, it was, but not for the reasons she thought. I’d ditched Abby, but only because I was planning on bringing Duncan to visit her.

  “I’ll get breakfast started,” she said.

  “I already had a bagel.”

  “Did you take your vitamins?”

  I shook my head. “I forgot.”

  “I’ll get them for you. And some juice, too.”

  She was mothering me, as usual. But I let her do whatever made her happy. She already had a pot of coffee brewing and it smelled rich and homey.

  “All I want is for everything to be okay,” I said.

  “It will be okay,” she assured me. She handed me my juice and vitamins.

  I popped them down, eager for the week to pass so I could see Duncan again.

  ***

  When the day arrived, I did my best to relax. I wasn’t going to tell him right away. I would give myself time to broach the subject and wait until the date unfolded.

  Since we’d made plans to spend the evening at the beach, I dressed casually. I didn’t pack anything because Duncan said that he would bring what we needed.

  Carol wasn’t home, thank goodness. She was working late at the store, so when Duncan picked me up, I was alone.

  I sat on the porch and dashed right to his truck as soon as he got there. He smiled, and my heart went pitter-pat.

  “Hello, sweet Vanessa,” he said.

  “Hi.” I loved that he was flirting with me. I loved how ruggedly handsome he looked, too. He was dressed in a pullover shirt and holey jeans. His hair was long and loose.

  “You ready for the beach?” he asked.

  “Absolutely. Who wouldn’t be ready for a bonfire and roasted marshmallows?”

  “I got the jumbo kind. I also brought a few other snacks, and an ice chest with some sodas and bottled water. I tossed a couple of blankets in the back, too.”