Reclaiming His Bride (DiCarlo Brides book 3) (The DiCarlo Brides) (6 page)

His hands rested on her shoulders, creating two warm spots against her cold flesh. “It’s freezing out here. Maybe you should go inside.”

“I’m fine.” Lana shivered, giving the lie to her words. Though she wanted to run back into the house to avoid being alone with him, it would be too much like running away, and now that he’d pointed it out, she couldn’t do it. The obstinate man probably knew that when he said it. He always knew how to get to her.

There was the sound of fabric swishing, then she felt his suit jacket come to rest on her shoulders, enveloping her in his warmth, his scent. Her chest ached with longing. The silence stretched, broken only by the glide of music inside before she finally spoke. “Thank you.”

 “You’re welcome. Did you need some time alone, or was it just fresh air you were after?” He moved to stand beside her, looking out across the layer of snow frosting the yard and the ring of trees at the edge of the forest.

“Just fresh air.” She paused for a moment, then pushed on. “You know, the fact that I’ve had some champagne, and I’m feeling a little melancholy, doesn’t mean you’re going to charm me back into your bed.” Not again, though she could still feel the longing that had tugged at her on their last encounter. She had been weak, let her guard down, but it wasn’t happening tonight.

“That’s a shame.” He touched an errant curl that had escaped from her bun and his voice went low, gliding into her system. “But you know there is much more than just chemistry between us, Lana. I’m as attracted to your mind, your laugh, the way you fight so hard for what you want, proving that you deserve every break you’ve gotten. I thought it was the same for you.”

Lana pulled the jacket closer around her, tucking her nose into the folds where she could smell him in the fabric. “I know.” But oh how the chemistry between them still yanked and pulled at her.

 He turned to face her, leaning sideways against the railing. “I miss that, the time we spent talking, laughing. All of the things we used to enjoy doing together around town. Going to the theater without you is no fun.”

She felt her cheeks heat and had to swallow back the lump in her throat. She’d barely had two sips of champagne, but she was feeling sentimental tonight—maybe that was the hormones. “It’s not fair to seduce me with sweetness.”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It’s the only weapon I have.”

She didn’t know what to say about that, so she brought up a subject that had been bothering her for months. “You told my dad about us. About our marriage. He mentioned it in the letter he wrote me.” She and Blake had been married a little over a week and planned to make the announcement; they had scheduled it and invited their parents for dinner.

And the day of the dinner, she’d seen him with Fiona, so she called it all off. Before he’d gotten off of work, she’d already packed her bags and stowed them in her car, waiting only for him to come back so she could tell him what she thought of him.

“No, I didn’t tell him.” Blake studied her face. “He found out on his own. After he confronted me, I admitted to it and asked his advice on how to make you listen.” He let out an ironic half-laugh. “I didn’t get it when he blamed himself.
My fault
, he’d said. I didn’t understand for the longest time.”

She turned to look at Blake and her breath caught. His looks were more refined than Joel’s. Even in a tux, Joel looked just a little like a diamond with edges that needed smoothing, but that worked for Sage. He was perfect for her. Blake, on the other hand, never looked disheveled—he had a natural grace and polish that practically glowed off of him. The little cleft in his chin was the only anomaly in an otherwise perfect face—and she couldn’t help but love that.

“I understand now, though,” he continued when she didn’t speak. “You knew about his infidelities. He’s why you can’t give me the benefit of the doubt.”

She wanted to deny it, but it was easier not to have this discussion, especially with the secret she’d been keeping from him. She didn’t want to blurt it out without preparing him—okay, without preparing herself. Maybe she was just a wimp. “We should go back inside.”

 “We will.” But instead of moving toward the glass door, he stepped up to her, tipped her head back and pressed his lips to hers—a gentle brush that fired her blood and made her crave more. He lingered for a moment, keeping it gentle, making her knees weak before he backed away, then opened the door to let her inside again.

“You don’t play fair,” she whispered as she slid past him into the room.

“Playing fair hasn’t worked so far, has it?” He accepted the suit jacket when she offered it back to him, then sauntered over to where they were serving cake.

“Hey, have you eaten yet?”

Lana looked up to see Cami standing at her office door. “No, I was thinking about it, though.” She’d been thinking about the Pop Tarts in her desk drawer, but knew she needed something a little more substantial, and time with Cami would be nice. “Not meeting Vince for lunch today?”

“No, he had to run into Denver for parts for some compressor or something at the nursery. Besides, we haven’t had a sister lunch in ages.”

Lana lifted her brows. “When you say that, do you mean you and me, or do you mean all six of us?”

Cami laughed and plopped herself in the cushy chair across from Lana. “I mean you and me, but I know Jonquil already has plans in the work for Sunday dinner—she’s such a little mother hen. Vince is always up for family dinners.”

“He’s a very tolerant man.” Lana saved and closed her file, then logged off the computer. After grabbing her purse from a drawer and her winter coat, she stood and circled her desk. “Where to? Here, or do you want to sneak away to find somewhere else to eat?” She’d been craving pizza for the past couple of days—which wasn’t offered in the hotel restaurant.

“If we stay here we’ll be interrupted a dozen times before we finish eating. And Rosemary will come out to talk to us—which is fine, except I’d kind of like to have you to myself for a while.”

“Oh? Are we sharing secrets over lunch today?”

“Likely. That’s what sister lunches are for, aren’t they?” Cami grinned.

Yeah, but you don’t have the doozy of a secret that I have—two of them, actually
. “I guess that’s the tradition.” She needed to change the subject. “I’m thinking pizza, if that’s okay with you?”

“Fabulous. I can already taste the breadsticks.” She elbowed Lana playfully. “Blake’s not going to come steal you away again, is he?”

Lana sincerely hoped not. She wasn’t going to be on anything that even remotely appeared date-ish, after all. “Nope. I’m sure he can handle any emergency that comes up in the next hour.”

They walked out into the early November sunlight and Lana tightened the coat around her, blocking off the breeze. They were expecting more snow in a couple of days—a hazard of living in the Colorado Rockies.

Before she knew it they were settled at a booth at the pizza place with drinks in front of them and their orders in to the kitchen. “So have you heard from the newlyweds?” Lana asked. They wouldn’t get home from their honeymoon for a few days yet. It made Lana ache from jealousy—but she wasn’t going to covet what her sisters had. She was happy for Sage—after everything she’d been through that year, she deserved all the happiness she could get.

“No. Sage is maintaining her strict requirement of phone, text and email silence. Can you blame her?”

Lana shook her head. “She deserves some distraction-free time with her man.”

Cami stirred her drink with her straw. “I’ve been watching you for a couple of months now. You and Blake practically spark off of each other whenever you’re in the room together. I’ve seen how you watch each other when you think no one is looking. What’s really going on with you?”

Lana felt the breath leave her lungs. “What are you talking about?”

Cami crossed her arms on the table and gave Lana one of those piercing looks. “Please. Don’t play dumb with me. I know better. I changed your—well, no, I never changed your diapers, but I probably brought Mom clean diapers when she was changing them. I know when something’s up with you and Blake doesn’t exactly try to hide his feelings, even if he doesn’t shout them to the world.”

Lana thought of the baby growing in her stomach. Her baby. She was going to have to come clean—with Blake, with Cami, with everyone. But not yet. “We do seem to be like oil and water, don’t we?”

“More like oil and vinegar. You go great together, and when you forget to be prickly, the two of you work together like two parts of the same machine. I just don’t get why you aren’t dating. I thought you had a thing for him last winter.”

There was no way Lana was going to discuss the previous winter’s fiasco. She shrugged. “We’ve worked together before. He can, occasionally, be good to deal with.”

Lana was grateful when Vince’s mother approached the table and began chatting with them. Cami wouldn’t consider discussing Lana’s lack of a love life with anyone else in the vicinity.

At least she hoped not.                                                                                           

And apparently she wasn’t being as discreet about her feelings as she had thought.

 Lana’s lapel radio beeped and she heard her name broadcast over it. She touched the talk button, “This is Lana.”  She was the weekend’s manager on duty at the hotel.

“This is Kristi at the front desk. We have a guest who would like to speak with you if you have a minute.” The woman’s voice quavered, as if she were afraid to interrupt the boss.

“That’s no problem. I’ll be right down.” Lana sighed and stuck her feet over the edge of the bed. It wasn’t late, so she was still dressed in her day-wear, though she had been growing tired, and planned to change for bed soon.

She slid her shoes back on, double-checked her pocket for the keycard to her room and pasted on a smile as she headed to the front desk.

When she arrived, she found Blake already speaking with a scowling, middle-aged woman.

“It won’t stop,” she complained. “I thought this was supposed to be a new hotel with all new fixtures. How can something like this happen?”

“I understand your frustration. I’ll personally bring another lamp to your room and see what we can do to fix it.” Blake looked up and saw Lana approaching. “And here’s the hotel manager, Lana.”

It hadn’t escaped her notice that Blake refused to use her last name. When she’d asked him about it in July, he insisted that it was actually Bahlmann and that lies of omission were bad enough without compounding the issue. Lana had grown used to it, though it took an effort not to grit her teeth at times. “Hello, I’m Lana DiCarlo. What seems to be the problem?” She was beyond irritated to find that Kristi had called Blake down as well—as if she weren’t capable of handling the problem herself—but that was something to deal with later.

The woman smoothed the Channel skirt over her hips. “I was just telling him that my lamp has a short or something and it keeps flashing on and off. It’s plugged in behind the bed, so I can’t get to it to unplug it. I have an early meeting tomorrow and need my sleep!”

Weird. Lana dropped her voice to soothe the guest. “I
am
sorry. What an odd problem. We’ll certainly take care of it right away. And how about if we treat you to a late dessert at the restaurant.” She touched the woman’s wrist in a familiar, secret-telling manner. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried the head chef’s chocolate gateau. It’s incredible.”

The guest looked uncertain for a moment, so Lana continued, leading her toward the restaurant. “Of course, if that’s not of interest to you, feel free to order any of the other items from the dessert menu. By the time you finish, we’ll have this problem all sorted out.”

“That is very kind of you,” the woman said, her agitation visibly decreasing.

“Taking care of our guests is our first priority here.” Lana stopped at the restaurant entrance and smiled at the hostess. “Hi, Marla, could you please give this guest whatever she’d like off the dessert menu, just charge her ticket to me. I’ll be back to sign it later.”

“Sure thing, Ms. DiCarlo.”