Sex And The Sleepwalker. Donna Sterling
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had not glorified her memories of Cade. He still kindled an awesome heat in her that no one else ever had.
Should she explore that heat and see how far it could take her toward the bliss she remembered from long ago? Or should she forget about the utterly thrilling moments she’d spent in his bed, and keep him at a distance?
It had taken her years to get over the emotional damage he’d done to her, to forget her feelings for him, to convince herself she was better off without him. Now was not the time to backslide. And after being kissed into a sensual heat that still simmered in her blood, she was afraid she could easily do so.
She wished she didn’t have to see Cade until she had decided what to do. Her duties, however, called for her to put in an appearance at the Friday lunch buffet.
She didn’t stay long. Uncertain about her plans regarding him and feeling guilty for interrupting his sleep, then leaving him unsatisfied, she barely risked a glance at him while she chatted with the other guests. She escaped to her private suite as soon as possible with a sandwich and cup of cappuccino.
That was why she missed his startling revelation about himself, which sent Trish and Lexi scurrying to her sitting room immediately after lunch for an emergency meeting.
“A travel journalist?” Brynn frowned at her business partners as if they’d been lacing their coffee with too much Irish Cream again. “Cade told you he’s a journalist?”
“An author of four travel books.” Trish tossed a business card into Brynn’s lap, on top of a stack of paperwork. Brynn set her work aside, curled her legs beside her on the armchair and read Cade’s card, while Lexi sank down onto the sofa and watched her face for a reaction.
Brynn’s incredulity grew. “I had no idea. Cade majored in criminal justice in college.” She glanced at her friends in wonder. “Who knew that he’d end up a writer?”
“And a photographer,” Lexi said. “He showed me the photos he took of the lakes and rivers around here, and they’re all gorgeous. He’s doing a series of books about his travels through the Southeast.”
Brynn could barely believe it. The Cade she’d known had shown very little interest in writing. “He never mentioned this to me,” she murmured, feeling as if she didn’t know him at all. “He always wanted to be a cop.”
“Guess he came to his senses,” Trish theorized, her eyes brimming with excitement. Brynn hadn’t seen her this interested in anything since their sorority days. “You do realize what this means, don’t you, Brynn?”
“What?”
“If he’s impressed enough with our inn, he’ll put us in his book.”
“He includes all his favorite spots and experiences.” Lexi sounded as excited at the prospect as Trish did. “Restaurants, beaches, parks, gardens…historic inns.”
“I’ve already given him a printout of our inn’s history from the 1870s,” Trish said. “And, of course, he knows that Georgia has the oldest state-chartered university in America.”
“He’s been taking pictures of the house,” Lexi said. “He even had us pose with our guests at breakfast on the sunporch. I made sure he had a menu of my specialties, too, in case he wants to include it in his new book.”
Trish dropped down onto the couch beside Lexi, and they beamed at each other in rare camaraderie. Brynn wasn’t sure why she felt a twinge of foreboding at their excitement.
“Anyway, Brynn,” said Trish, “we felt we’d better talk to you about this so you can change your attitude.”
“My attitude?”
“Toward Cade. We think it’s important that you make him feel at home here. Welcomed. Pampered.”
Brynn stared at her, aghast. Trish had no idea what she was asking.
“He’s really not a bad guy, Brynnie. I know your relationship with him ended badly, and any time you want to talk about that, hon, you know I’m here for you.” Trish paused, looking both sympathetic and avidly curious. She clearly couldn’t remember the details from nine years ago, and Brynn was glad. When she didn’t avail herself of the opportunity to rehash her humiliation and heartbreak, Trish sighed in disappointment and went on. “He’s a paying customer now, and he writes travel books. We have to treat him cordially.”
Brynn wondered if climbing into bed with him last night could be considered cordial. And if he’d add it to his list of favorite experiences. Highly doubtful. She forced back a hysterical giggle. “I thought I was treating him cordially.”
Trish and Lexi exchanged glances. “Mrs. Hornsby told me that you nearly threw him out of the inn yesterday at tea,” Trish said.
“At the time I didn’t know he was a registered guest.”
“And I saw for myself the way you were glaring at him in the foyer before I left for the evening. And today at lunch you greeted everyone except him. It was painfully obvious you were dissing him. I’m sure he was humiliated.”
Although he had sent her a searching stare, he hadn’t looked humiliated at all to Brynn. He’d looked as if he might pull her aside and demand to know if she intended to sleep with him. She’d gathered that from one quick, sidelong glance that had left her uncomfortably warm and shaken. “If I didn’t greet him, it was just an oversight.”
“Oh, come on, Brynn. It’s us you’re talking to,” Lexi chided, propping her sandaled feet with their toe rings and chain anklets on the ottoman of Brynn’s armchair.
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