Читать книгу Sex And The Sleepwalker - Donna Sterling - Страница 8

OKAY, SO SHE WASN’T an urban adventuress, or gloriously liberated like Lexi, or “in the know” about cosmopolitan social trends, like Trish. And if either of them knew about her personal history, chances were they never would have allowed her into their social circle in the first place, which, in a way, made Brynn feel like a fraud.

But there was one area in which she felt entirely comfortable, and that was welcoming guests. She loved meeting new people, greeting those she’d entertained before, and hearing about their lives, travels and interests. Every new arrival filled her with anticipation, as if she were embarking on a new adventure. And every person who became a friend made her feel that much richer. She considered the most important part of her job to be making her guests feel comfortable. At home. Sincerely welcome.

With this in mind, Brynn allowed Trish to work the registration desk while she herself played hostess to the new arrivals in the parlor, offering them high tea—or happy hour, as some preferred to call it, although the guests had to provide their own “happy” libations to go with the soft drinks, tea and coffee served there.

As Brynn and Lexi set trays of pastries, cheese and veggies on the antique sideboard for their Thursday afternoon guests, a thunderous roar came from the entryway.

“GO DAWGS! Sic ’em! Rrrf, rrrf, rrrf…”

In any other part of the country, the sound of men barking, growling and howling might have raised an alarm. But in Athens, Georgia, home of the University of Georgia Bulldogs, the commotion merely drew smiles from a few of the guests in the parlor. Brynn and Lexi went a little further and answered the barking with howls of their own.

“Hey, guys, I do believe we’ve found some Easy DZs,” remarked Smitty, the biggest and loudest of the four beer-bellied, middle-aged newcomers. The group had quit barking to pause at the wide, arched doorway of the parlor and leer playfully at Brynn and Lexi.

“I beg your pardon?” Brynn asked in mock affront at the age-old slur to her sorority. These guys were some of her favorite regulars who stayed at the inn every year for the football season opener. “Did you say Easy DZs? That’s Easy Delta Zetas to you.”

“Leave it to those Kappa Alpha boys to get it wrong,” Lexi added, which prompted the men to break into a bawdy song about their beloved fraternity.

“Go put your paw prints on a registration form at the desk, you crazy dawgs, you,” Brynn called out over their singing while she poured coffee for three young, pretty recent graduates. As former beauty queens—Miss Athens, Miss Clarke County and Miss Georgia—the girls were slated to participate in opening-day celebrations on campus. They seemed to be saving their smiles for the occasion; they looked bored at the moment and annoyed by the commotion.

Brynn moved away to fill cups for the more congenial guests. She would have to find a way to draw these young women into the fun-loving spirit of the weekend.

Before she could make an effort to change the girls’ spoilsport attitudes, her radio beeper went off, and Trish asked if she’d take a look at a faulty air conditioner. Brynn hurried upstairs to handle the problem. August in Georgia definitely required air-conditioning.

Forty minutes later, after nearly dismantling the wall unit, Brynn called a repairman. It was at times like these that she truly appreciated Trish’s help. At least she knew the front desk was being run properly while problems kept her elsewhere. She hated missing high tea, though, especially when her Kappa Alpha guys would be trooping in there—with a twelve-pack of beer, probably—and unwittingly annoying the beauty queens. Hopefully Lexi would keep things amiable, regardless of what tactics the guys might use to get the attention of the three young ladies.

Hoping for the best, but fearing the worst, Brynn finally made her way downstairs. If things hadn’t gone well between the Kappa Alphas and the beauty queens, high tea may have ended prematurely, which wouldn’t bode well for the weekend. A congenial atmosphere was vital during football season, when people wanted the freedom to make fools of themselves and have others appreciate them for it. Brynn had to do her utmost to promote a fun-loving spirit among her guests.

Armed with that resolve, she marched toward the parlor, passing Trish, who was deeply involved in a phone conversation at the reception desk. A glance toward the kitchen showed Lexi retreating with an armful of empty snack trays.

Assuming that the tea had ended early, Brynn was surprised as she drew closer to the parlor to hear lively voices and peals of laughter, both masculine and feminine. Mystified, she paused at the parlor entrance and gaped. The guests were clustered around a table—the Kappa Alpha men, the beauty queens, a married couple who were both retired professors, and big, gruff old Mrs. Hornsby, all watching some central action.

Only when Brynn crept closer did she realize that an arm-wrestling match was taking place. Smitty, the Kappa Alphas’ earlier spokesman, was involved in the match, his beefy face red with exertion, his brawny arm raised and quivering under the strain, his hand clasped in a death grip with a darker, leaner hand.

Brynn then caught sight of the other contestant’s face. And the breath left her body. God help her…it was Cade Hunter!

Why was he here? Had he come to see her? She couldn’t imagine why he would. They hadn’t parted on friendly terms. And if he’d come for a social visit, why was he involving himself with her guests?

The beauty queens looked pleased at his presence; they were clustered around him in seductive poses, their gazes glued to his lean, strong-jawed face. The men, all caught up in the macho contest, cheered their fellow Kappa Alpha on, and even the older guests watched with interest. Cade’s attention was trained solely on his opponent.

Brynn couldn’t help but take the opportunity to study the man who had broken her heart nine years ago—the last man she’d been “crazy” about. His shoulders looked broader now, his chest and arms more powerful, but that might have been because of the muscles flexing with exertion. His jet-black hair was as thick and wavy as ever, but cropped shorter than it had been then. Subtle strands of silver now gleamed near his temples. Surprising, considering he was only thirty. His skin, a dark, natural bronze, looked more weathered, giving his already rugged face a craggier look than she remembered. But his eyes, the amber color of sunlit honey, glinted with the same look of wry amusement and quiet intelligence that had first attracted her to him.

He had no business being here! This get-together was for guests only, not the general public. She had to set him straight on that matter.

Unless, of course, he was a friend of the Kappa Alphas, just dropping in for a visit. She couldn’t chase off a friend of her guests. But her Kappa Alpha men were at least ten years older than Cade; he wouldn’t have attended UGA at the same time they had. And Cade hadn’t been in a fraternity. He’d belonged to a different kind of brotherhood—the criminal-justice majors, who hung out together at the gym, pumping iron, or at the firing range, honing their aim in hopes of entering the police academy or FBI. Her brother had been one of his crowd. Brynn’s sorority sisters had referred to them as “cop wannabes.” Because they weren’t in a fraternity, they were generally considered beneath the notice of the Delta Zetas. At the same time, most red-blooded women couldn’t help but admire the rock-hard physiques and protective attitudes of those criminal-justice boys.

Cade had never lacked for female admirers.

Which brought up another possibility—that he’d come to visit one of the beauty queens. But they were recent graduates, and Cade hadn’t been in Athens for nine years, as far as Brynn knew.

Before she had time to reflect on other possibilities, Cade pinned his opponent’s arm to the table. Cheers erupted from the beauty queens, who congratulated him as if he’d made the winning touchdown at a championship game. His defeated opponent flushed, laughed and mumbled something about tennis elbow.

“My turn to take him on,” another Kappa Alpha announced, nudging his frat brother out of the chair. “And this time, use your right arm, buddy. I’ll put you down, anyway.”

Brynn realized that Cade had been using his non-dominant arm, probably as a handicap against the age difference. Interesting. In arm-wrestling, he actually had scruples.

But he had no business being at her high tea.

It was time to assert her authority. “Excuse me.” She shouldered her way through the Kappa Alphas, who were hunkering around the table for the next match, while the girls fluttered and cooed around Cade, expressing their faith in his endurance. “I hate to interrupt the action, but…”

Cade’s attention swung to her then. Her breath halted. Her stomach dropped. She’d forgotten how powerful his gaze could be. She felt as if he’d physically grabbed her and lifted her high into the air. She actually experienced the heady rush of vertigo.

Coming to her senses, she shook it off, and reminded herself who he was and what he’d done. It had been years since she’d confronted him in anything but her fantasies. Oh, how she’d torn into him then! And how she longed to do that now. She couldn’t, of course. She had to think of her guests, and the harmonious spirit she intended to promote.

Restraining herself, she said in an admirably civilized tone, “I’m afraid this function is for registered guests of the inn only.”

Cade confused the issue immediately by smiling at her as if he were mildly pleased to see her. Only mildly, mind you. But that was enough to distract her, to kick her pulse into high gear. “Hello, there. You remember me, don’t you? From UGA. Cade Hunter.” He extended a hand to her—a smooth, practiced move that she automatically responded to. His grip was firm, warm and dry—and the fit of his palm against hers was utterly perfect. Immediately intimate. Frighteningly familiar. “You’re…Brenda, right?”

Brenda. Brenda!

Brynn pulled her hand back from his and stared at him. He’d forgotten her name. All these years, she’d been harboring fantasies of whittling him down to size with her sharp wit and icy demeanor, while he hadn’t given her a thought.

“Brynn,” corrected Mrs. Hornsby in her gruff, cantankerous voice from somewhere behind her. “Her name’s Brynn.”

“Brynn,” Cade repeated. “That’s right. Sorry. I’m terrible with names. How’ve you been?”

Delusional, it seemed. She’d been sure he would never forget her. How dared he forget her? “This gathering is for registered guests only, Mr…Hunt, did you say?”

“Hunter.” His smile didn’t waver as he reached into the pocket of his tight jeans, pulled out a room key and held it up for her inspection. “And I am a registered guest.”

Stunned for the second time in mere moments, Brynn stared at his room key in horror. Registered! He’d registered as a guest? He would be staying here, under her roof? And in the Dogwood Room, according to his key. Two doors down from her suite. No!

“For the whole weekend?” She forgot to even try hiding her dismay.

“Not the weekend.” Before she could breathe a sigh of relief that he’d only be here for the night, he added, “I’ll be staying a couple of weeks. Maybe three, depending on my schedule.”

Brynn couldn’t have been more appalled.

“Let’s go, big guy,” urged the Alpha Kappa sitting across the table from him, sliding his raised arm toward Cade in challenge.

Through a nightmarish haze, Brynn watched Cade plant his elbow next to the challenger’s, grip his hand and engage in another battle, while the other guests moved closer and cheered them on. The air virtually hummed with testosterone.

Brynn backed away from the action, struggling to come to grips with the reality of the situation. How had this happened? How could Cade Hunter be a registered guest at her inn—for two or three weeks, yet?

It had to have been Trish. The moment Brynn had turned her back, Trish had allowed riffraff of the worst kind to register at their inn. Not that Trish could have known how Brynn felt about this particular specimen of riffraff. Brynn had had her pride back in college and hadn’t carried on about her feelings, bad or otherwise, for Cade Hunter. They were merely two people who had once dated, fought and gone their separate ways, as far as any of her friends would remember.

And not even that, as far as Cade remembered. Brenda, he’d called her. Why should that sting as much as it did?

The remainder of high tea passed in something of a blur for Brynn. Lexi, whose shift had ended after she’d set out the snacks, had left for the day, hurrying to get ready for a hot date with her guitarist boyfriend, and Trish remained occupied at the registration desk. Cade continued to win arm-wrestling contests until the last match, when a Kappa Alpha finally beat him.

He then challenged the winner to a double-or-nothing competition that involved balancing stacks of beer-bottle caps on their noses. Every one of the Kappa Alphas joined in, and the beauty queens found the men’s antics delightfully amusing.

“Double or nothing, did you say?” Brynn cried, unable to refrain from pouncing on this transgression. She arched her brows at Cade and said in her most quelling voice, “I hope you’re not gambling in my establishment.”

Immediately the merry chatter and comical action ceased. Smiles wilted. Bottle caps fell off of noses. All eyes turned her way. All faces took on varying degrees of surprise, dismay and contrition.

So much for promoting a happy, tolerant environment.

Cade settled back in his chair and regarded her with the expectant air of a bystander watching a spectacle. Brynn wished she could retract her hasty rebuke, but didn’t know how.

Quietly, apologetically, Smitty broke the silence. “Aww, Brynn, we’re not playing for money. Only for beers. You know, like we always do.”

Only then did she realize the full extent of her mistake. Of course they always wagered for beers, usually regarding football. She’d never complained about their betting before.

Forcing a smile despite the heat blazing in her face, she said, “I…I meant to say…surely you’re not gambling in my establishment…um, without letting me in on the action.”

Smiles returned to her guests’ faces. Smitty hurried to accept her bet, and bottle caps were promptly realigned on the Kappa Alphas’ noses.

Tongue clearly tucked in his cheek, Cade met her gaze. His tawny eyes brimmed with silent laughter. She swore he knew perfectly well what had driven her to that outburst. He had. But how could he realize that unless he remembered their past relationship? The suspicion that he was playing some kind of secret game with her flooded Brynn with an oddly energizing heat.

They’d played many secret games together, once upon a time….

The heat took on a sensual burn, and she pivoted away from him, feeling shaken. This would never do! How could she bear to have Cade Hunter here for two or three weeks?

Teatime lasted forever. Though she tried to focus her attention on the refreshments and the needs of her other guests, she found herself preoccupied with her awareness of Cade, an awareness she’d rather die than show. By the time the guests went their separate ways for the evening, her face ached from forcing a smile.

On their way out, the Kappa Alphas and the beauty queens told Cade they hoped to see him around the inn that weekend. As usual, he’d been a big hit.

It was enough to turn Brynn’s stomach.

Most disturbing of all, though, was when Trish ran into Cade on his way out of the parlor. For the first time since her divorce from her cheating ex, a sparkle leaped in her bright blue eyes. With flushed animation, she talked to him, flirted with him and insisted that he have dinner with her to “catch up”—although they’d never been close friends.

“Brynn, you’ll come too, won’t you?” she asked as an afterthought, probably because they were the only three people left in the entryway.

Brynn actually considered going, just to prevent Trish from being alone with the big bad wolf. The thought of Cade and Trish as a couple, even for the briefest time, was too horrible to tolerate. But if they were intent on pursuing a relationship, she couldn’t imagine anything worse than being with them as a third wheel. “No, you go ahead. I’ve had a busy day.”

“So have I,” Cade said, surprising her. “And I have a lot of work to catch up on,” he added, surprising her even more. Brynn wondered what kind of work he did. “Think I’ll turn in early, too,” he said.

The crestfallen look on Trish’s face made Brynn want to shake her.

“But let me take a rain check on those dinner plans, huh, Trish?” Cade’s smile was as rich, warm and powerful as cognac.

Trish visibly brightened and assured him he could. Brynn gritted her teeth. Of all the guys her friend could have gotten interested in, why Cade? She’d be going from one lowlife to another.

“If you two are turning in early,” Trish said, “I’m going over to the campus to help decorate for the festivities tomorrow.” With a wink at Cade, she made her exit.

Which left Brynn very much alone with him. Her tension shifted into higher gear as they stood watching the door close behind Trish. Brynn braced herself for whatever he might say or do.

But with nothing more than a courteous nod, he turned and strode to the stairway.

Again he’d surprised her. And not in a good way. She felt curiously deflated. Robbed, even. He apparently thought he could slink off to his room without a face-to-face confrontation with her.

She allowed him that delusion as she followed him silently up the stairs to the second floor. All the way to his door, actually. It wasn’t until he pushed his key into the lock that Brynn halted beside him.

He glanced at her in surprise.

She scowled. “You might not remember much about me, Cal,” she said in a furious undertone, deliberately getting his name wrong, “but I remember plenty about you. Trish is my friend. She’s been through a tough time lately, and she doesn’t need a wolf like you ready to pounce on her. Stay away from her.”

One corner of his mouth tipped up, and he leaned a broad shoulder against the doorjamb. “So, you’re worried about your friend, are you?” His gaze played over her face with gathering intensity. “Then maybe you’d better keep me occupied.”

A dark thrill shot into her stomach. A spear of sensual heat, the kind she hadn’t felt for years. Nine years. The realization alarmed her. “Don’t play your mind games here. With anyone. Or I promise you, I will be your worst nightmare.”

With that passionate threat, she whipped around, stalked to her room and shut the door behind her, her knees deplorably weak, her blood humming in her ears. She had no idea how she would ever carry out that threat, but she meant it. Something about Cade Hunter never failed to incite her to passion, one way or another.

Maybe you’d better keep me occupied. Why should that hoarsely uttered suggestion have given her such a thrill? He had to know she wanted nothing to do with him. He was only taunting her. Laughing at her, no doubt.

How she wished that just once she could turn the tables on him. Slay him with a single gaze. Wipe that cockiness off his face. Bring him to his knees.

But that highly satisfying image soon elicited memories. Vivid, hot, sensually arousing memories. Not appropriate for this situation. The last thing she wanted was any kind of sexual relationship with him.

Of course she didn’t. He infuriated her, that was all.

She only hoped she could calm down enough to sleep.

HE WAS HAVING TROUBLE sleeping. He wasn’t sure why.

It wasn’t because of his work. He had all the precautions in place, and things were proceeding as planned. It wasn’t because of jet lag, either. He’d been in Georgia for two days, long enough for him to adjust from Colorado time. There was no good reason for him to lie here staring at the ceiling.

Hell, Hunter, this undercover work has got you lying to yourself. He knew damn well why he couldn’t sleep: because of Brynn. He’d been so determined to take their reunion in stride, to treat her with the same casual lightness he treated everyone else. Yet here he was, reliving every moment he’d spent in her presence.

He’d been a little stunned when he’d seen her today.

Nine years ago, she’d been a soft-spoken, dark-haired beauty with natural warmth and kindness shining from her hazel eyes and heart-shaped face. He’d first seen her at a UGA football game, and he hadn’t been able to look away. She’d been there with his buddy John from crim law class—a good friend, although they hadn’t known each other long. Cade had felt a sinking in his chest, a heaviness in his gut, because he’d known, after one long look at Brynn, that he would do everything in his power to take her away from John. There was just something about her that struck him as so damn beautiful. So damn unique. He traded seats with the guy behind them, and was more than a little relieved when John introduced Brynn as his sister. Then he heard her voice. Talked with her. Laughed with her. And the certainty grew. She had to be his.

That had been nine years ago, when he was twenty-one. He’d done a lot of hard, fast living since then, had more than his share of beautiful women. When he’d checked into the inn today, he’d expected to see her with new eyes. Jaded eyes, as his friends might say. He’d also expected her to have changed in some fairly major ways.

But then he’d looked up from his arm-wrestling match and felt a sudden clutch in his gut. A sinking in his chest. A heaviness in his stomach. Because she was so damn beautiful. That same unique, angelic beauty still radiated from her. Still took his breath away.

And that had surprised the hell out of him. In his experience, life had a way of hardening people. Changing them from the inside out. After all he’d seen and heard in the course of his work, he doubted that the kid he’d once been even existed in his body anymore.

But Brynn hadn’t seemed to have changed in any major way. Her long dark hair was styled differently—in some fancy braid—and her slender figure had filled out into rounder curves. She now wore an air of authority with surprising ease. But the sweetness still glowed from her face and eyes, even when she was trying her damnedest to drive him away.

Maybe that was why he hadn’t been able to resist testing her, prodding her, to see how she’d react. “Maybe you’d better keep me occupied,” he’d told her.

And that, he realized, was the real reason he couldn’t sleep. He was angry with himself. He’d started out so well, pretending not even to remember her name. His time here would pass much easier if he could avoid any meaningful personal contact with her. He’d almost made it to his room with his mask firmly in place. But then he’d taken the bait and allowed her to lure him out of his “impersonal” mode.

He’d gazed into her eyes, up close and personal, and breathed in her scent. And lost a little bit of his mind.

The old heated awareness had flooded her face, and so had that look of alarm. Which meant nothing had changed. She was still running from him. He still couldn’t have her.

That was another reason he couldn’t sleep. He was angry with her—because she still jumped to the wrong conclusions about him. Assumed the very worst about his character. “Trish doesn’t need a wolf like you ready to pounce on her,” she’d said.

Wasn’t that the story of his life, though? Hadn’t all the people he’d loved believed the very worst about his actions, his motives? His mother had given up custody of him when he was seven because he’d been “a handful”—and he hadn’t even known he’d been misbehaving. To this day, his father and stepmother considered him bad news, and their son and daughter naturally excluded him from family gatherings.

Cade should have learned by now. When it came to the important people in his life, he didn’t have whatever it took to be trusted, or even given the benefit of the doubt. He’d thought he’d learned to live with that.

In a way, he was glad his annoyance with Brynn had rescued him this evening. Otherwise, he might have started wanting her again. And that would be pure hell. He’d spent weeks, months, maybe years, reliving the long, hot hours they’d spent kissing, necking, petting. She hadn’t let him make love to her. Not all the way. But he’d known how to make her hot, and how to make her come. And he’d relished the power, the heat…and had wanted, needed, so much more.

It had become a constant craving. The scent of her, the feel, the taste—all made him believe that she had been made for him. He’d wanted to drive himself deep into her body. To fill her entirely. To possess her completely.

It hadn’t happened.

Make love to me, Brynn, or we’re through. They’d been words of desperation. Stupid, foolish, asinine. His ultimatum had only alienated her. He’d then compounded the mistake by trying to make her jealous.

But he wouldn’t think about any of that now. Those desperate, churning emotions were long dead and buried, and he was damn glad of it. He never wanted to want her again.

Punching the old-fashioned down pillow into shape, he glanced at the bedside clock: 2:00 a.m. He laid his head back down and shut his eyes, determined to sleep. He had a serious job to do here, and needed his rest.

No sooner had he begun to drift off, though, than he heard a faint jingling, like the rattle of keys. And a click. Then another noise. Half-asleep as he was, he vaguely recognized it as the squeak of a door opening. But, of course, he must be dreaming.

Or maybe not. His eyes flew open just in time to see a figure gliding toward him in the dark. His instincts kicked in, and he reached for the gun beside the bed, his mind instantly alert, his body poised for attack.

But then his eyes adjusted to the dark, and the shadowy figure materialized into a woman. A woman with long, free-flowing dark hair, wearing a soft, sheer nightgown.

Brynn.