Full Circle

by Shannon Hollis

  He could have sworn that hadn’t been there when they’d left. “For the price of this room, I’d have expected a whole bouquet. But it is a nice touch.”

  She looked at him quizzically, brushing the bright petals of the rose against her chin. “You mean you didn’t arrange to have them bring it? The inn does this kind of thing for its guests?”

  He shrugged. “Guess so. You’ll find I’m more likely to bring you—”

  “I know—”

  “Rocks as big as diamonds,” she chorused with him. She filled the ice bucket with water and put the rose in it. “I’m starving. Let’s go see what the restaurant downstairs is like.”

  He came up behind her and took her in his arms. “I just spent forty-five minutes with a bunch of birds for you, and now you want to go eat?” he teased. He was only half kidding. Even the scent of her hair and warm skin could turn him on, and he was more than ready to put dinner off until dark—or beyond. “We still need to even the score.”

  She gave him a skeptical look and leaned into him. “Oh, come on. It can’t have been that long since your last starlet. You can last another two hours.”

  A week ago he would have laughed and made a joke about it. Now the needlelike lance of pain surprised him. He couldn’t blame her for saying it—he hadn’t hidden his social life from the world. And they’d only been together for a couple of days. They were still getting to know each other. But when you were trying to convince a woman to think about you in a more flattering light, having your past tossed in your face got old in a hurry.

  Turning her around to face him, he said, “Just how long do you think that has been?” Her gaze searched his, and she seemed to realize that he wasn’t joking anymore. “Let me tell you,” he answered for her. “The last time I made love to a woman was on March third, with Dulcie Cavanaugh, the National Geographic photographer. More than two months ago. The night before she told me she was taking an assignment to Antarctica and wouldn’t be coming back to L.A.”

  “I don’t remember reading about Dulcie Cavanaugh,” Cate said faintly.

  “The ones I really like don’t get into the papers,” he told her. “The ones you read about are usually studio setups or publicity stunts or whatever.”

  “I have no idea how that world works.”

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

  She leaned on him and looped her arms around his waist. “Were you hurt when Dulcie left?”

  “A little.” He thought of the big-boned redhead with the boisterous laugh. “She was smart and well traveled. We met at a book gig and my publisher introduced us. I think he was hoping to get one of her photos for my next cover.” He looked into her eyes. “Which will be on a book I write myself. But if that was a roundabout way of asking whether I loved her, the answer is also yes, a little.”

  Her weight on his chest got a little heavier, as though she had sagged, and then she adjusted her stance.

  “And now?”

  “Every relationship we have changes us, Cate. But that doesn’t mean a change for the worse.”

  “That’s comforting.” Her voice held a smile.

  “As far as you and I are concerned, every minute is better than the last one.” He paused. “Well, except for the near miss with that seagull outside just now. Can’t say that was one of my more romantic moments.”

  As he had hoped, Cate laughed and the mood broke. She gazed over his shoulder at the window. “It’s twilight. Come on, let’s have dinner and then go over the dunes and walk on the beach afterward.”

  “Do you always have this much energy?” he complained as he released her and went to find a fresh shirt.

  She shot him a wicked grin as she opened her suitcase. “Oh, yes. I have every intention of wearing you out when we get back.”

  “In that case, let’s go.”

  13

  THE INN’S DINING ROOM specialized in fresh catches from the marina down the way. Cate chose deep-fried calamari with the knowledge that a walk on the beach and a night making love would erase every single carb from her system.

  She could hardly wait.

  Daniel tucked into his halibut and chips like a man who was used to eating while he could, in case there was no food around the next bend in the road. Why, she wondered as she watched him, had she avoided him for eight years? The more time she spent with him, the more she realized that the open-hearted boy with the devilishly charming smile was still alive and well. She’d depended too much on media perceptions of him—of other people’s opinions, not her own. That was all very well in academia, where other people’s opinions formed the bedrock on which theses were built, but it didn’t work in relationships. There, a hands-on approach was required.

  She had avoided that in her professional life, too, hadn’t she? She’d spend hours in her office on a paper instead of getting out in the field and making her own discoveries. Just what had she been afraid of? There was nothing wrong with theory, but there came a point when you had to have fresh data to back it up.

  With Daniel, getting that data was going to be a pleasure.

  As she savored her crème brûlée some time later, Daniel sipped a glass of port. He saluted her with it over the low-burning candle on the table.

  She smiled back, taking a moment to appreciate his dark eyes and the way they seemed to communicate every emotion. Such a difference between him and someone like Charles, who was so locked in his own guilt that his gray eyes had been blank with horror at himself half the time.

  No wonder she hadn’t been orgasmic with that guy. Sex—or the lack of it—had been all about him.

  They charged the meal to their room and strolled outside, where the fog was beginning to come in. “Sure you want that walk on the beach?” Daniel asked as they crossed the wooden planks of the veranda. “Could be pretty cool, and we won’t be able to see much.”

  “No one would be able to see us,” she suggested, looking on the bright side.

  He laughed. “I’m okay with making love to you at sixty or seventy degrees, but anything below that? I’m thinking goose bumps aren’t all that romantic.”

  He had a point. And it was a shame to pay all that money for a bed and use cold sand instead. “In the morning, then. I want my walk on the beach before I go back to New York.”

  “That’s a deal.”

  Hand in hand, they climbed the stairs to their room. As he held the door for her, Cate felt the heat coming off his body. Her own temperature was rising in anticipation of the night—helped along by the fact that every time he brushed her skin in passing, or she caught a whiff of his cologne, she felt that jolt deep inside.

  Did every woman feel this way about one particular man in her life? And what if, once their fling was over, she never felt like this again? What a depressing thought—to go through life with a partner you loved but without this spicy zing of awareness every time you saw or touched him.

  Oh, grow up, Cate.

  Relationships weren’t about the zing, or about the fling. They were about time and respect and commitment. She might have had two out of three at one time or another, but the commitment—and, face it, the zing—were definitely missing.

  Just what did a girl have to do to get commitment and zing?

  “Man, that rose has some scent.” Daniel closed the door and crossed the room to open a window. “How can one flower stink up a room so much?”

  “That’s not a rose.” Cate sniffed and identified the perfume right away. She had not spent hours in the cosmetics department of Bloomie’s for nothing. “That’s Allure, by Chanel.”

  “Did you break your bottle? I didn’t think the Camaro’s ride was that rough.”

  “I didn’t bring anything on this trip. The conference was scent-free, remember?”

  Daniel made a face. “Must have missed that memo, too. God, where is it coming from? It reeks in here.”

  The scent got stronger and less pleasant the closer Cate came to the bed. “Daniel, it’s the sheets.” She touched
the pillow and the neatly turned-down coverlet. “They’re soaked with it.”

  “What the hell…? If this is service, I draw the line.” He picked up the phone and punched a button. “Front desk? Yeah, this is Daniel Burke in number seven. Does your turndown service usually include perfume? Perfume. You know, stinky stuff poured all over my sheets? No? I didn’t think so. You want to send housekeeping up here? Or better yet, how about you give us another room before we die of Allure poisoning.” He listened for a moment. “Okay, full house, I get that. But I still want the bed changed out. Right. Thanks.”

  He put the phone down. “They’re sending someone up.”

  Cate was already stripping the bed. In a few seconds she’d bundled sheets, pillowcases, blankets and even the mattress cover out into the hallway and opened every window she could find. The cool, fog-laden air drifted in and began to clear the miasma of perfume.

  “Gack,” she said, fanning the air in front of her face. “And to think I used to like that stuff.”

  “What I’d like to know is, who got in here and dumped it on our bed? We’re lucky they didn’t get into our luggage.”

  “Or did they?”

  Cate ran to her suitcase and flipped it open. With a breath of relief tainted by the fading scent of perfume, she ran a hand over her clothes. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed, and nothing was wet. “Daniel, is your stuff okay?”

  He looked up from his examination of his duffel. “Seems to be. Maybe one of the maids had an accident.”

  She straightened and frowned at the bare mattress. “A maid wouldn’t bring a bottle of perfume into a room, much less accidentally spill a couple of ounces on the bed. A couple of drops, I could see, but that stuff costs a fortune.”

  “So what are you saying?” He dropped the duffel and leaned a hip on the table. “We have a perfume vandal with expensive taste?”

  “Does anyone know you’re here?” she asked by way of answer. He shook his head. “Not even Stacy Mills?”

  “Nope. It’s none of her business what I do between gigs. Her job is making sure I get to them. Besides, she doesn’t wear this. What you said. Allure.”

  “An expert in perfumes, too, are we?” She wasn’t jealous that he knew what kind of scent his publicist wore. Some men paid attention to that kind of detail. That was all.

  “No, but believe me, after this I’m going to be.” She’d already opened the window as wide as it would go, but he lifted the old-fashioned sash again, as if to emphasize his point. “Can we breathe yet?”

  A knock at the door heralded the arrival of the maid and the housekeeping cart.

  “I’m so sorry about this, Mr. Burke, Ms. Wells,” she said breathlessly as she whipped out new sheets and slapped them into place with a skill Cate could only stand back and admire. “I can’t explain what happened. My goodness, that stuff is strong, isn’t it?”

  The manager was hot on her heels. “Please accept the inn’s apologies for this and be assured we’ll be talking to everyone on our staff.” He shook Daniel’s hand and then Cate’s. “I don’t understand what could have happened, either, but we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  “It may not have been the staff at all,” Cate said. “Miss, did you see anyone in the vicinity of our room while we were at dinner?”

  The maid smoothed the comforter and gave the pillows a final fluff. “No, ma’am. I was doing the beds in number four for a late arrival and didn’t see anyone.”

  “Don’t be too hard on the staff, Mr. Moreno,” Daniel said to the manager. “I’m sure it was just an accident, with no real harm done. It wasn’t as if it was battery acid or something.”

  “What about this?” Cate indicated the rose in the ice bucket. “Did the hotel provide this, by any chance? We found it on the pillow when we arrived.”

  “No, Ms. Wells. Even if the hotel did provide such a thing for its guests, I would not put a yellow rose in the room of a couple.”

  “Why not?” Daniel wanted to know.

  “The yellow rose signifies jealousy,” the older man said. “A very unlucky thing, would you not agree?”

  Indeed, Cate thought as the manager and the maid took their leave, both apologizing at once. It was more than a little disconcerting to know that someone had been in their room not once, but twice. She never gave housekeeping a thought when she stayed in hotels, but this was different. Someone had come in here with the deliberate intent to make their presence—and their jealousy?—known. But to whom? Herself? No, no one cared about her.

  But Daniel, now, that was a potsherd of a different color. They’d already had an uninvited guest. Why couldn’t they have another one?

  “Daniel, did that girl who came to your cottage last night wear Allure?” she asked.

  He turned from the window, where he had been doing some more deep breathing. “I have no idea.”

  “Maybe she followed us here.”

  “I doubt it. There’s a big difference between knocking on the door like a normal person and getting into a locked hotel room like a burglar. Particularly one on the second floor.”

  “Is there? It’s not like these have key-card entries. They’re just standard bolts like I have at home. And I can get into mine with a credit card.”

  “In that case I hope you have a chain on your door.”

  “But my point is—”

  He crossed the room and took her into his arms. “I see your point. But I still think it was an accident. And even if it wasn’t, there was no harm done. This is a pretty benign vandal.”

  “That’s just what I mean.” She stepped away a little so she could think without getting distracted by things like the solidity of his thighs and how wonderful his hands felt as they slid over her back. “I’m betting it’s a woman, not just because of the perfume, but because it does seem benign. She could have dumped it in our clothes or in the furniture, but she chose the sheets.”

  “Okay, I’ll play. Why?”

  “Two reasons. You’re the symbologist. Perfume plus bed equals…?”

  “Um, ‘I want to give you nightmares about this smell for the rest of your life’?”

  Cate rolled her eyes. “No, silly. ‘I want to make sure you remember me while you’re making love with someone else in this bed.’”

  Daniel laughed. “Come on, Cate. Be serious.”

  “I am serious. Which leads me to the second reason I think it’s a woman. She poured it on the sheets, which can be washed. She makes her point in an unmistakable fashion, but it doesn’t really hurt or damage anything. It’s easy to clean up. That seems very female to me. Considerate, even, in a twisted way. And add to that the yellow rose, which just emphasizes my point.”

  Daniel didn’t laugh this time, but his grin stretched a little wider. “You, my darling, have been watching way too much CSI on television.”

  “I have not.” Okay, so the charming grin wasn’t quite so charming when he was using it to discount a perfectly rational theory. “I think you should ask the manager to show you the guest registry. You might see a name on it that you know. Maybe someone carries a grudge.”

  He started shaking his head somewhere around registry and began to laugh again at grudge. Cate stopped theorizing and glared at him. “I’m only trying to help.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it.” He sobered a little, but not enough to make the amused smile disappear. “I honestly think it was just a mistake. Someone forgot to put the lid on and spilled, and doesn’t want to admit it in case she loses her job. As simple as that.”

  “There’s no need to laugh at my ideas.” Cate sounded as stiff and, well, hurt as she felt. “Both of us are just speculating, and just because you’re male doesn’t give your theories any greater validity than—”

  “Whoa!” Daniel took her hand and led her to the bed, where he sat her down. “This is not the archaeology department, Cate. It’s not a political arena. It’s a bedroom.”

  “I’m well aware of that.” She was also aware that it was impos
sible to stay angry at Daniel for long. Not with those wonderful expressive eyes locked on her face and those strong hands wrapped around hers. “Excuse me while I put on my bunny slippers.”

  An expression of horror crossed his face while his eyes danced. “No, no. Please. Not the bunny slippers. You know how they make me feel.”

  “Say it could very well be a female intruder with an ax to grind and I’ll leave them in the suitcase.”

  He nodded. “It absolutely could. We’ll keep our eyes open from here on out. I promise that instead of ogling your breasts I will watch for jealous females following us.”

  Cate’s mood had improved by a hundred percent. Lucky for him, she’d never held a grudge in her life. Lucky for her, he never took anything seriously.

  “I wouldn’t go that far. I like it when you ogle them. I like it even better when you touch them.”

  “Well, then,” he said softly. “We can’t have you disappointed, can we?” He ran one finger from her collarbone down her chest, over the crest of her nipple, to her ribs. Every cell in her body stood to attention. “Turn around.”

  He ran the zipper of her discreet black sheath down its track and parted the two halves, leaving the bare skin of her back exposed. Cate shivered as his lips traveled slowly over her shoulders, lingering on the nape of her neck. The dress fell down her arms and she slipped out of it.

  In only her panties, bra and stockings, she turned to Daniel and began to unbutton his shirt. “You look overheated,” she said sympathetically. “All this excitement.”

  It was difficult to get the buttons undone while he was removing her bra at the same time, but she managed. And tugging off his shoes, socks and trousers was even more challenging, especially when he seemed to be able to get her panties away from her in a few seconds.

  But ah, her reward was waiting for her as he skimmed her stockings down each leg and tossed them over the foot of the bed. His arousal and the focused, intent look in his eyes left no doubt that for him, there was going to be no more waiting. A dozen perfume-wielding intruders couldn’t stop him now.