Читать книгу Night After Night... - Kristin Gabriel, Linda Randall Wisdom - Страница 9

MIA HALF EXPECTED to find something out of Frankenstein’s laboratory when she went in search of the Longo Research Center later that evening. She held her overnight bag in one hand and a map of the estate grounds in the other. The map had been given to her by the guard at the front gate, right after he’d taken her car keys.

Walking almost half a mile in the crisp autumn air gave her plenty of time for second thoughts about impersonating Carleen. She’d read about Harlan Longo’s eccentricities in the newspaper, which were often accompanied by stories about his generosity to various charities. But traversing his estate by foot in the waning twilight gave her a disturbing glimpse of the man throwing this slumber party.

He’d built a moat around his sprawling mansion, along with a rustic suspension bridge leading to the research center. A rowboat peopled with two rubber blow-up dolls floated on the stagnant water. One of the dolls even held a fishing pole. Chickens roamed freely on the grounds and roosted in an old yellow school bus that still had the words Paddington Middle School printed on the side.

By the time she reached the solid steel door of the Longo Research Center, she had no doubt old Harlan was crazy. Now she was beginning to wonder about her own sanity for volunteering to sleep in this madhouse every night for the next three weeks.

A rusty horseshoe hung on the door, right under the words LONGO RESEARCH CENTER spelled out in bright red letters. After searching in vain for a doorbell, she lifted the horseshoe and rapped it three times against the door. When she heard the heavy footsteps on the other side, she braced herself for a humpbacked Igor to greet her.

But the man who opened the door stood straight and tall, a mane of smooth white hair brushing the shoulders of his white lab coat. “Greetings!”

“I’m…Carleen Wimmer,” she said, slightly unnerved by the two security cameras trained on her. “Mr. Longo is expecting me.”

The man grinned. “Indeed, I am! Please come in, Carleen Wimmer. Welcome to my laboratory.”

She stepped through the door, surprised to find it actually looked like a laboratory on the inside. The sleek, modern decor impressed her. Black and white ceramic tiles formed a wheel shape on the floor, leading to a center hub that contained a round stainless steel desk that was the focal point of the large room. Each one of the tile spokes of the wheel led to a door, about twelve in all, which she assumed were entrances to the individual sleeping suites.

The doors were all closed and the hub, filled with gleaming chrome fixtures, was curiously empty of people. Uneasiness filled her. “Am I the only one here?”

“So far,” Harlan replied. “I staggered the appointed arrival times so I could meet with each of my research subjects individually.”

She glanced at her watch. “I hope I’m not late.”

“You’re right on time,” he assured her, taking the overnight bag out of her hand. “Did you bring a pillow?”

“It’s in my bag.”

“Very good.” He reached out to pluck a small feather off the sleeve of her jacket. “I’m sorry about the long walk. Cars scare my chickens,” he said over his shoulder as he led her to one of the closed doors.

“That’s all right,” she said, following him. “All that fresh air will probably help me sleep better.”

He opened the door to the suite, an excited twinkle in his eye. “I hope you like what I’ve done with the room.”

The first thing she noticed was the jukebox. It stood in the far corner, close to the queen-sized bed. The soft strains of “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” filled the air. The song went well with the framed head shot of Elvis above the headboard and the gold lamé comforter that was embroidered with tiny guitars and musical notes. But she found the floor-to-ceiling mural of Graceland covering one wall to be the most impressive part of the room.

“Well?” Harlan asked, visibly proud of his decorating efforts. “What do you think?”

“I’m speechless,” she answered honestly.

Carleen had told her that she’d listed Elvis songs as her “comfort music” on the personality profile. Harlan had obviously taken that little tidbit and run with it.

“Look at this,” he said, leading her over to the jukebox. “It doubles as a biomonitor to record your vital signs. It even has retractable cables to hook you up to the machine.”

He pulled one out, demonstrating how the lead reached the bed. Then he let it go and it sprang back into the jukebox with a loud pop.

“Wow,” she said, wondering what other surprises awaited her.

He walked over to the bed and pressed a button on the headboard. “Feel free to ring anytime you need assistance. Myself or one of my assistants will be right outside in the control center. This facility is completely secure. The door to your suite automatically locks.”

That thought made her a little uneasy. “So I’ll be locked in?”

“Not at all,” he assured her. “If you wish to exit the room, all you have to do is press the button next to the door. That signals one of my assistants to press the corresponding button on the control panel and the door will unlock.”

“Got it,” Mia replied.

“You’ll be perfectly safe here,” he assured her. “You probably noticed the security cameras when you entered the lab. I have cameras positioned around the entire estate. No one can enter my property without my knowledge.”

A knock sounded on the door, then a petite young Asian woman wearing a pink polka-dot lab coat entered the room. “Did you need something, Dr. Longo?”

“Yes, Hannah, I’d like to introduce you to Carleen Wimmer. She’ll be sleeping in the Elvis suite for the next three weeks.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Wimmer,” Hannah said, holding out her hand.

Mia shook it, surprised by her firm grip. “Please call me Carleen.”

“If you wish.”

Longo set Mia’s bag on the end of the bed. “Hannah is assigned to work this half of the sleep lab. She’ll get you all hooked up for tonight, then I’ll be in to answer any questions you might have and to tuck you in.”

“All right,” Mia said with a smile. No one had tucked her into bed since she was ten years old—not that her Italian mother hadn’t tried. But Mia’s independent streak had kicked in at an early age.

She still remembered the time she’d informed her grandmother that she never intended to marry because husbands were too bossy, though she did plan to have six children. The poor woman had almost keeled over from that pronouncement.

Shocking her family had turned into a fairly routine occurrence, though she rarely did it intentionally. They just didn’t understand that she wanted more than the life they had mapped out for her.

Like taking karate lessons instead of ballet. Or skipping out on catechism class so she could rehearse with her heavy metal band. Her cousins had lovingly dubbed her the black sheep of the family, though Mia hardly deserved the title. She wasn’t rebellious, just unconventional by Maldonado standards.

When her parents had balked at her decision to enroll in design school instead of choosing a more traditional career like teaching or nursing, Mia had chosen to pay her own way through college.

Then she’d moved to Philadelphia, choosing the city by spreading a map of the United States in front of her, closing her eyes and letting fate guide her finger. When she’d first arrived, Mia had found a job designing display cases for a furniture outlet store until she’d saved enough money to strike out on her own.

Judging by her current financial predicament, she hadn’t saved enough. But the last thing she wanted to do was return to Chicago a failure, fulfilling her family’s dire predictions. Mia wanted to prove to them and to herself that she could make it on her own.

If the radio advertisements brought in enough new clients, Mia’s Makeovers could survive. Her only obstacles were succeeding in impersonating her best friend and sleeping in an Elvis suite.

At least she’d passed the first test. Harlan left the suite without a backward glance, apparently convinced that she really was Carleen Wimmer.

“You can change in Graceland,” Hannah said as she fiddled with the dials on the jukebox.

Mia’s gaze went to the elaborate mural on the wall. “I don’t understand.”

“There’s a pocket door that slides open,” she replied, pointing to the door of the mansion. “It leads to a small bathroom.”

Mia didn’t see the door until she walked right up to it. “This is amazing,” she said, sliding it open.

“Dr. Longo spares no expense to make his research subjects comfortable,” Hannah replied, fluffing the pillow before laying it on the bed.

“Is he really a doctor?” Mia asked.

“He’s made some very generous endowments to Parker University, so they gave him an honorary degree. He even set up an internship program for students interested in research and development. That’s how I came to be here.” A smile flitted across her small mouth. “Though I have to admit it’s not quite what I expected.”

“Me, either,” Mia acknowledged, grabbing her overnight bag off the bed. By the time she emerged from the Graceland bathroom, Hannah was ready to hook her up to the jukebox.

She climbed awkwardly into the bed as Elvis sang “It’s Now or Never.”

“So is this your first time as a research subject?” Hannah asked, sweeping the bangs off Mia’s forehead to attach the wire cables.

“Yes,” she replied, then hoped that was the right answer. Carleen hadn’t been able to remember all of the questions on the personality profile.

Mia took a deep breath, telling herself not to panic. What was the worst that Dr. Longo could do if he discovered she wasn’t Carleen? Kick her out of his sleep lab and demand his money back.

Okay, the money would be a problem. But worrying about it wouldn’t help. She’d done enough worrying while dating Ian. His erratic behavior the last few weeks of their relationship had turned her into someone she hadn’t recognized—a needy, insecure woman. She had spent hours analyzing and reanalyzing everything he said and did when she should have just trusted her instincts and dumped the cheating jerk before he dumped her.

Now she had a chance to start over. Pretending to be Carleen would give her an opportunity to break out of all her bad habits. To create a new and improved Mia Maldonado.

“Carleen?”

She blinked, then realized Hannah had just asked her another question. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

She smiled. “You’re all set now. Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m fine.” Mia folded her arms on top of the thick comforter, her fingers nervously strumming the embroidered guitar threads.

“Dr. Longo will be in soon.”

“All right.” She kept her gaze on the ceiling, afraid if she moved one of the electrodes would become disconnected. Hannah disappeared from view and she heard the door creak open, then close again as the assistant took her leave.

A moment later, the door creaked open again and Harlan Longo walked into her view.

“Hannah tells me you’re ready to go to sleep.”

“I’ll do my best,” she replied, not feeling the least bit sleepy.

“I know you will.” He reached out to pat her shoulder gently. “And I’d like to thank you for assisting me in my research.”

“What exactly are you testing in this room?” she asked, wondering if she’d wake up in subzero temperatures. “If I remember right, you’re researching how different environments affect sleep patterns.”

“That’s correct,” he replied. “But we never tell our research subjects what to expect ahead of time. That way, your anticipation of the change in environment won’t affect the readings. For instance, a subject anticipating a hot room might throw off the bed covers before he goes to sleep. If it’s a cold room, he might wear his socks to bed.”

Mia thought the anticipation of not knowing what was going to happen might have a greater affect on the readings, but it was Dr. Longo’s experiment so she didn’t question him on it.

“Don’t worry,” he said, sensing her apprehension. “The music will help you fall asleep.”

She considered telling him it would do just the opposite, but didn’t have the heart after he’d gone to so much trouble with the Elvis room. The more time she spent with Harlan, the more she liked the man—even if he was a little odd.

He walked over to the door and dimmed the lights. “Sweet dreams, Carleen.”

She smiled to herself in the soft glow of the jukebox, thinking Harlan would make a better grandfather than scientist. “Good night.”

As he left the room, she wondered if the rumors she’d heard about him were true. After his wife’s death, there had been subtle speculation in the newspapers that his neglect of her medical condition had led to her early demise, despite the Longos having enough money to afford the best medical care in the world.

Now, having met the man, she simply couldn’t believe it. Harlan didn’t seem like a ruthless businessman to her. He might be a little strange, judging by his various research projects, but so were a lot of people.

She lay stiffly in the bed, too aware of the wire cables tethering her to the jukebox to relax. Several minutes passed, until she finally grew bored enough to close her eyes and practice the relaxation techniques that Carleen had taught her after her breakup with Ian.

Breathing in deeply through her diaphragm, she held her breath for a moment, then slowly released it, letting the tension flow out of every pore of her body. She repeated this technique several more times, gradually becoming more comfortable.

When Elvis began to sing “Love Me Tender,” the music soothed her like a lullaby. By the end of the song, she forgot about the relaxation breathing and began to drift off to sleep.

Floating in a twilight haze, she was dimly aware of the door creaking open, then closing again. Footsteps padded on the carpet, but she kept her eyes closed, drowsily telling herself it was just Hannah coming to check on her.

Mia dozed, barely aware of someone moving quietly around in the room. Then her senses came alive at the sound of the bedsprings bouncing beside her and the spicy scent of male aftershave.

She opened her eyes and the glow of the jukebox revealed a man lying next to her in bed, staring right back at her.

Ruggedly handsome, with a slight crook in his nose and a small scar over his right eyebrow, he far surpassed any dream lover she’d ever imagined. But when he spoke, Mia knew she wasn’t dreaming.

“So what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

She bolted upright in the bed and screamed.

He sat up, too, the gold lamé comforter falling to reveal a snug gray T-shirt that outlined the impressive width of his shoulders and the rippling muscles of his chest and torso. He wore his hair short, like a Marine, but she couldn’t tell the color of his eyes because his gaze had dropped to her breasts, where her pert nipples were visible through the thin cotton fabric of her pink nightshirt.

She grabbed the comforter, pulling it up to her neck, then jabbed the button on the headboard several times. “What do you think you’re doing in here?”

A wickedly sexy smile kicked up one side of his mouth. “I think I just asked you that same question.”

Before she could reply, the door to the suite swung open and Harlan hurried into the room. “Is there a problem?”

She pointed to the intruder. “I just found this man in my bed!”

“So?” Harlan replied, looking perplexed.

She blinked. “So? That’s all you have to say? So?”

The man leaned back against the headboard. “I don’t think she was expecting me, Harlan.”

That was the understatement of the century. She turned to Harlan, the wire cables limiting her movement. “I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am, but if this research center is just a front for making a porn movie or is some kind of kinky sex club, then I’m not interested—”

“Now just hold on there,” Harlan admonished, raising both hands. “This is legitimate scientific research, Carleen. You’re going to skew all the readings if you keep jumping around like that.”

“Then do something about him,” she insisted, forcing herself to lie still. “Call the police or one of your security guards and get him out of here.”

Harlan’s brow furrowed as he moved around to her side of the bed. “I don’t think you understand, Carleen. Nate Cafferty is your new environment.”

She blinked. “What?”

“This is an experiment about how different environments affect sleep patterns,” he reminded her, “as well as how quickly we adapt to them.”

“I don’t want to adapt to him,” she replied, needing to make that very clear. “I don’t even know him.”

“That’s the point, my dear,” Harlan said, as if it all made perfect sense. “The specific environment I designed for you is sleeping with a stranger. That’s why we waited until you fell asleep so we could establish your baseline readings before we let Nate join you in bed.”

“You can’t be serious.” She glanced at Nate, who seemed to enjoy watching her come unraveled. “I can’t sleep with him. I…I’m engaged.”

“Yes, I know, but I still don’t understand why you’re so upset.” Harlan’s brow crinkled. “All the possibilities were spelled out in the contract.”

She swallowed a groan. Apparently, Carleen had missed that little detail when she’d skimmed over the legal mumbo jumbo. “I’m upset because no woman in her right mind would put herself in a situation like this.”

“You have nothing to fear from Nate,” Harlan assured her. “He won’t hurt you.”

She looked between the two men. “So you really expect me to go through with this?”

“That’s completely up to you,” Harlan replied. “I never force my research subjects to do anything they don’t want to do. But I have to admit I’ll be very disappointed if you decide to return the money and quit the sleep study.”

She hesitated. Returning the money wasn’t an option. But how could she spend the next three weeks in bed with a stranger? She turned to Nate, hoping he’d at least act the gentleman and withdraw.

But the man lying beside her didn’t say a word. He just gazed back at her with eyes that she could now see were the same shade of verdant green as the leaves of the stately pin oak trees painted on the Graceland mural.

A keen intelligence shone from those eyes. And something else. Something that made her want to squirm beneath the covers. Mia wondered if she really could trust Nate. She wasn’t the best judge of a man’s character. Ian Brock was proof of that. But what choice did she have at this point?

“I suppose we could try it,” she said, surrendering to the inevitable, “at least for tonight.”

“Wonderful,” Harlan exclaimed, stepping up to the jukebox. “Now let me check to make sure all of these connections are still secure.”

“Why doesn’t Nate have to wear them?” she asked, knowing she probably resembled Medusa with all the cables sticking out of her head. The fact that she had washed off her makeup didn’t improve her mood, either.

At least Nate didn’t seem to mind her appearance. He settled back onto his pillow as Harlan tucked the covers around her.

“Nate’s vital signs aren’t relevant to my research,” Harlan told her. “For this particular study, I’m only interested in how your sleep patterns are affected at different phases of the relationship.”

“But we don’t have a relationship,” Mia reminded him. “We haven’t even met before tonight.”

Harlan grinned. “That’s why this study fascinates me so much. Because when you sleep with someone every night, even platonically, you have to develop some kind of relationship—good or bad.”

She glanced at Nate, wondering if this was some kind of test of her willpower. Having recently sworn off bad boys, she now found herself in bed with one. Only he far surpassed the Justins, Andrews and Ians of her past. Her awareness of him pulsed through every cell in her body, making her hot and cold at the same time.

Not a good sign.

Mia forced herself to look away and took a deep breath. If she could resist him, she could resist anyone. The key was to avoid him as much as possible while sharing the same bed. That meant not looking at him, not talking to him, and definitely not touching him.

Harlan lowered the volume on the jukebox. “Now let’s try this again, shall we?” He walked to the door, his hand resting on the night switch. “Goodnight, Carleen. Goodnight, Nate.”

Then he left them alone in the dark, the only sound in the room Elvis crooning a song that seemed appropriate for the occasion.

“All Shook Up.”