LITMIR.BIZ

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wax? Chains and spanking paddles?” Monique demanded on a rising crescendo that not only drowned him out, but drew the attention of the desk clerks, the long-haired guest and the assistant G.M. “Dale told me this bed-and-breakfast was called Falling Inn, not the pervert’s palace.”

      “Annabelle’s only joking, Monique. There’s nothing perverted around here,” he explained in his best attempt at damage control. He couldn’t argue the existence of chains, spanking paddles and a multitude of other sex toys around here.

      “You haven’t quite got it right,” Annabelle said. “Our name is Falling Inn Bed, and Breakfast.” To prove her point, she handed Monique a promotional brochure from a display on the desk.

      Monique darted her disbelieving gaze between the brochure and Dale. “You brought me to a bordello?”

      “This isn’t a bordello.” He shot an equally disbelieving gaze at Annabelle. “Falling Inn Bed is a romance resort—”

      “And we have Dale to thank for our newest addition.” Annabelle swept her arms toward him in a motion reminiscent of a game show model pointing to the prize behind curtain number one. “He’s the architect who designed the Bedding Wing, with five floors of sexy suites like the Coitus Chamber, the Mènage Motel and the Anal Atrium.”

      The Anal Atrium did it. Monique’s eyes bulged, and she swung around to glare at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “I thought you said the Wedding Wing, not the Bedding Wing!”

      “I did—”

      “Dale’s one of our featured guests for the Naughty Nuptials. We’ve got weeks of erotic events planned and there’ll be media to cover—”

      “Monique, this isn’t what it sounds like.” He glared at Annabelle.

      “Liar!” The word shot out as an enraged screech.

      Annabelle’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline and every guest within earshot turned toward them. Adam Grant headed their way, clearly determined to bring sanity to the chaos.

      “You men are all the same,” Monique delivered in an explosion of sound. “‘I need you to come for business,’ you said. ‘I’ll take you across the country and pamper you until you forget Gerald ever existed.’ You just wanted to get me into this bordello to have sex.”

      Dale caught her hand the split second before it connected with his cheek. “I came here to work.”

      “So I heard. You built this bordello.”

      “It’s not a bordello,” he ground out between clenched teeth. He was too busy dealing with Monique to handle Annabelle. But she was next in line. Guaranteed. “Let’s get out of this lobby so we can talk. I’ll explain. There’s nothing disreputable about a romance resort.”

      “Get out is right.” She tried to break his grip—to have another go at slapping him, no doubt—but Dale hung on.

      “You’re overreacting—”

      “Me, overreacting? You’re a pervert.” She pulled away so forcefully, he had to let go or risk breaking her wrist.

      She obviously intended to storm away, but found her way blocked by Adam, who said, “Excuse me. Is there a problem I can help with?”

      Before Dale could open his mouth, Monique demanded a limo to take her to the airport.

      Adam didn’t miss a beat. “Of course, if you’ll join me at the concierge desk, I’ll make all the arrangements.”

      “Not necessary,” Dale said. “I’ll take you home, Monique. No problem. Let’s go.”

      He’d think of something to tell his boss.

      “Pervert,” Monique snapped. “I’d walk back to California before I sat on a flight with you.” In a swirl of red silk, she spun on her heel and headed toward the concierge desk.

      “I’ll take care of her,” Adam said, his stoic gaze warning Dale to let him handle the arrangements before his date created even more of a scene.

      Dale had never been abandoned like this before, so it took a moment to realize that he had no choice but to back down graciously. Monique obviously didn’t want to be reasoned with, or to be here with him, either.

      Fishing out the information for the return flight, he handed it to Adam and told him to bill her charges to his room.

      Adam took off, and to his credit, he quickly calmed Monique down enough so the lobby couldn’t overhear their conversation.

      What the hell had Dale been thinking to bring a woman on the rebound to this event? Under normal circumstances, he would have been able to produce a more suitable date.

      Unfortunately, these weren’t normal circumstances.

      Being the boss of his own job had meant enforced good behavior while building this bordello, so finding someone to attend an excursion had been a test of his social connections. After spending nearly two years in Niagara Falls constructing the Wedding Wing, his friends back at his West Coast home barely remembered what he looked like.

      If he’d had any sense, he would have attended the grand opening alone. But the thought of three weeks spent lusting after Laura had driven him to action. Now he’d paid the price.

      As Adam escorted Monique back to the entrance, Dale heard him reassure her that both she and her bags would be on their way to the airport immediately. She swept past, shooting Dale a dark look that should have shriveled him on the spot.

      Turning to Annabelle, Dale thought about how this whole scene could have been worse. If Laura had been here to witness the carnage…

      She’d hear about it, of course, but Dale didn’t care. By then he’d have vented his anger on Annabelle, who had some serious explaining to do about why he was suddenly facing three weeks of erotic events alone.

      2

      “THE ANAL ATRIUM?” Dale sounded a lot calmer than he felt.

      “It did the trick, didn’t it?” Annabelle said.

      “You chased her off on purpose.”

      “I did.” No repentance whatsoever. “I saved you from a miserable three weeks. Monique wasn’t your type, Dale. I’m surprised you even brought her.”

      “All I ever did was work around here, Annabelle, so what would you know about my type?”

      She handed him a white envelope and a letter opener.

      Scowling, Dale sliced through the heavy paper and withdrew what turned out to be an invitation. He flipped it open and found himself riveted by the familiar handwriting inside.

      Dale,

      I’d like you to be my guest for the Naughty Nuptials and to share the Castaway Honeymoon Isle suite. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you left. Your visit will give us the perfect chance to enjoy ourselves.

      Laura

      “So what’ll it be, Casanova?” Annabelle looked smug. “Do I check you into the Castaway Honeymoon Isle or have Adam hold the limo?”

      Under normal circumstances Dale wasn’t prone to mood swings. In fact, to hear his family and friends tell it, he was a downright good-natured guy. But, again, these weren’t normal circumstances. He’d swung from mad as hell to happy camper so fast he felt dizzy.

      I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.

      Aside from the fact Annabelle was waiting for an answer about whether or not he wanted to make love to her co-worker, something coiled low in his gut…some wrenching feeling that was wholly unfamiliar.

      He should feel guilty that Monique had flown clear across the country to turn around and make the trip back but he couldn’t work up an ounce of regret. Not when Laura

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