The Rent-A-Groom (7 page)

He could think of one, but was afraid to try it, afraid he might enjoy the experiment far too much. Besides, he had made himself an ironclad promise that he would not take advantage of this deal.

Of course, Gina Madison could take any advantage she wanted. She wouldn’t hear a whisper of objection from him.

The doors for their two respective suites were placed almost at right angles to each other at the far end of the main hall. As the four of them walked along together in that direction, drawing closer to the doors, Bradley cleared his throat. “You two may as well come in with us for a nightcap,” he said in expansive invitation. “We have champagne chilling on ice.”

“Thanks for the invitation, but we’ll pass,” Race said before Gina could answer. “We have champagne of our own, compliments of the management. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“Well, then, we could pool our resources,” Bradley began.

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t want to do that, not tonight of all nights. And frankly, neither do we.” Race ignored Gina’s soft gasp and the sudden bite of her nails into his biceps. “We’ll say goodnight here. See you around. If we decide to get out of bed.”

Without allowing Dillman time to comment, he clamped Gina’s arm against his side and moved on. Gina had given him the room key to carry, and he dug it out of his pocket. Inserting it, he pushed the door open in a smooth movement then swung Gina inside.

As the heavy door closed behind them, she turned on him and opened her mouth to give him the hiding he deserved. He reached to place his fingers on the soft surfaces of her lips and stood listening with his head cocked toward the hall outside.

Nothing. Not a sound.

He glanced down at Gina, and then took his fingers away. She was quiet for a moment, but there was mutiny in her face. He had about five seconds, he thought, before she started throwing things.

The
Do Not Disturb
sign hung on the doorknob, where it had been taken in as they went down to dinner. He opened the door and put it out as an excuse to check on Dillman and his wife. The two were just disappearing inside the Emerald Suite.

That was good. In fact, that was perfect. Drawing back into the foyer, he closed the door once more and swung to face Gina.

“I hope,” she said distinctly as she crossed her arms over her chest, “that you don’t think that you are really staying here with me.”

He leaned his shoulders against the door panel behind him for support and folded his own arms. “What? You mean we aren’t going to—what was the phrase—head to bed?”

“You know that was part of the act!”

“And a very nice part, too,” he said, recalling the sweet incitement of her breast and thigh pressed against him.

“You didn’t have to pick up on it quite so fast.” There was a flash of gold in the dark brown of her eyes.

“What was I supposed to do? Shake your hand and say a polite good-night at the door?” He lifted his brow. “I thought the idea was to convince your old flame over there that we’re using this place for the purpose intended.”

Her face turned pink; it was amazing. It was also incredibly sexy. Which just went to show how fast he was losing it.

“Whatever the reason may have been,” she said through her teeth, “it’s over. You’re supposed to be out of here.”

She had him there. Because he knew it, he answered with great reasonableness. “But since you didn’t throw me out when I first showed up, and since the idiot over there saw me and now thinks we’re a couple, don’t you agree it makes sense for him to believe I’m staying?”

“What he believes and what is going to happen are two entirely different things. You are going out that door in about two seconds flat, and that’s final.” She moved away a few wary steps, pausing in the doorway that led from the foyer to the sitting area.

“What if Dillman checks up on you?”

“Why would he?” she countered in sharp distrust.

“How should I know; he’s
your
old boyfriend. All I can tell you is that he seemed mighty worried just now. Maybe he’s a weirdo. Maybe he still has the hots for you. Or maybe he didn’t find our little performance all that convincing.”

 “I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t after all your disgusting innuendos.”

“Is that right? What about yours? Not to mention you wrapping yourself around me like a—” He stopped, took a quick breath.

“Like what?” she demanded in annoyance.

“Forget it.” He unfolded his arms and shoved his fists deep into his pants pockets.

“I want to know what you were going to say!”

“No, you don’t.”

She only stared at him with set features while she waited.

He compressed his lips then gave up. “All right, like a pea vine around a bean pole, as my churchgoing grandmother used to put it. The description didn’t seem like such a good one to come out with just now.”

“Why not?” She tilted her head in frowning puzzlement.

Exasperation allied to a kind of embarrassment he hadn’t felt since he was in high school made him reckless. “If I have to tell you, then you must need a lesson in basic male-female anatomy.”

She stared at him, blinked. “Oh.”

He removed a hand from his pants pocket and pushed his fingers through his hair. “Yes, well, never mind. All I meant to do is help out here. There’s no reason why I should have to invade your privacy or your bed to do the job, and I never intended either one. We can drink champagne to all hours if you want, maybe dance, play a few hands of cards. Or you can shut yourself up in the bedroom and I’ll bed down on the loveseat in the sitting room. Whatever. Dillman gets the impression that you’re occupied in the appropriate manner. You make your point in spades, which is—correct me if I’m wrong—that you’re through with him.”

“No, you’re not wrong,” she said slowly, then stood staring at the floor while she chewed the inside corner of her bottom lip. At last she spoke again. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. I mean, what’s it to you?”

The truth was sometimes the best weapon, he thought. “I was sent to do a job, and I like to finish what I start. Besides, I don’t much like the man you intended to marry.”

She shook her head, swinging away from him to move into the sitting room. He really thought he was sunk. Then she made a small, winded sound, as if she’d taken a hit to the stomach.

He was beside her in two swift strides. She seemed okay, though her gaze was fixed on the far wall with its tall French windows. He followed it with his own.

The drapes had been left open for the view of the lights of Dallas, which stretched toward the horizon like a gray blanket sewn with gold and green stars. Beyond the glass panes of the double doors could be seen a portion of the balcony that wrapped around the fourth level to connect the three tower suites. Bradley Dillman was standing out there, looking in. As he saw them staring in his directions, he gave a nonchalant wave and strolled from view.

Race turned his head to meet Gina’s disbelieving gaze. Voice taut, he said, “See what I mean?”

She closed her eyes, then pressed her hands to her face and rubbed hard, as if getting rid of something clinging and unpleasant, like an old spider web. When she let them drop again, she appeared tired and somehow defeated, so that compunction stirred uncomfortably inside him.

After a moment she released her breath in a long sigh of concession. “No man your size could possibly sleep on that loveseat, and the bedroom is definitely off limits. That leaves the bathtub, or maybe a pallet.”

“I’ll stretch out on the sheepskin rug in front of the fireplace. I’ve slept on worse.” She was silent so long, watching him with wide, questioning eyes, that he added, “You’ll be safe, I promise. Scout’s honor.”

She gave a slow nod. “I suppose I can let you have one of the bed pillows. And maybe there’s an extra blanket around here somewhere.”

His satisfaction seemed obscene somehow; he hid it as well as he was able. It was short-lived, in any case. The night was not going to be easy, much less exciting. Before it was over, he might discover he had outsmarted himself.

The bed he made was comfortable enough, all things considered, once he pushed the loveseat out of the way. Regardless, he had never been more restless, never felt less ready to sleep. He could not seem to wrench his stupid mind away from visions of Gina in a long, white gown with ruffles and lace. Nor could he prevent the memory of her kiss. The sweet nectar of her mouth seemed to linger on his tongue, and he could almost feel her close against him. He ached like a teenager with the need to wrap his arms around her warmth and fragrance, her firmness that was so soft, her softness that was so firm. Her face floated in the forefront of his mind, with a smile curving her lips and promise in her eyes.

It was pure torture. And he deserved it, no doubt about it.

The hours advanced, and all he did was twist the blanket around him with his tossing and turning. He thought of getting up and finding something to read in the well-stocked shelves beside the fireplace, but was afraid he might wake Gina. That wouldn’t do, because he had been forced to sleep in his briefs. Pajamas were not a part of his life; he had failed to throw a pair into his bag.

It was toward dawn when he finally began to feel drowsy. With the usual timing of such things, he was just at the edge of sleep when he remembered he hadn’t turned the dead bolt or flipped the safety latch when he shut the outer door. There had been too many other things on his mind.

The door locked automatically, of course, but he really should get up and flip the security latch.

There was no real worry; he was a light sleeper. If anybody tried anything, he would be up before they could get both feet across the threshold. At least the balcony doors, both in the sitting room and bedroom, were locked tight; he had managed to retain that much presence of mind.

Turning to his back, Race kicked the blanket away from him then flung his arms out on either side. He breathed deep once, making a conscious effort to relax. Sleep came down like the fall of an auctioneer’s hammer.

It might have been hours later, or only minutes, that he heard the rattle of a key in the lock. The sound brought him surging up through deep fathoms of unconsciousness. He rolled from the sheepskin in a fluid movement before he was fully awake.

Gaining his feet, he plunged toward the foyer. He stopped so fast his bare feet squeaked as he skidded on the pink marble floor.

The woman just opening the door came to a halt with her mouth open. Her hand went to the breast of her pink uniform, holding her heart.

“Oh, my stars!” The maid’s startled gaze flickered over him, touching the width of his shoulders, the breadth of his chest, the low-cut briefs and his naked thighs under them. She looked beyond him to the twisted blanket and rumpled rug before the fireplace. Rosy color flooded her cheeks, though her eyes began to sparkle.

“What the devil do you want?” Race demanded in a low growl.

She rubbed her hands down the front of her frilly white apron then clutched its folds. “I’m Etta, and this is my floor. I—well, the gentleman next door said you and your bride had gone to breakfast. Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry. I’ll come back later!”

He stood in scowling thought as the maid whisked from the suite. Dillman had deliberately misled the woman. Could be he meant to question her later about what she’d seen. Or maybe he’d been waiting outside, hoping to see or hear something that would satisfy his curiosity.

 Maybe he was still there.

Hard on the thought, Race snatched the door open again. Gina’s ex-fiancé was strolling away down the corridor. His footsteps faltered as he glanced back over his shoulder.