Get a Clue

parts of Cooper were going to be a chocolate-flavored dessert. It was not only fattening as hell, but incredibly wrong. Her life was in ruins, and she needed to remember that. She was on a mission to get the hell out of this place and back to civilization, where she could get to a Starbucks in three minutes or less, where she could hail a cab, where her cell phone worked.

She headed toward the shower, but on second thought stopped to drag the day couch from the far wall, pushing it against the bathroom door, protecting herself from any interruptions or boogeymen or voyeurs-never mind that she herself had been a voyeur only yesterday.

From the long, narrow windows on either side of the shower she could see only a sea of white. No depth perception, no landmarks visible, nothing but white, white, white.

Unbelievably, the snow was still falling. She turned the shower to scalding, stripped, and stepped in, and in spite of herself let out a little whimper of pleasure. My God, the showerheads were worth their weight in gold, aimed at all the good spots, hitting her already sensitized and aching flesh. For a moment she simply stood there absorbing the sensations. The soap smelled like- Cooper. Just the scent had her quivering, and by the time she rubbed it over her body she was aroused all over again.

Or still.

Ignoring it the best she could, she concentrated on her mission-getting out of Dodge. Fast.

She turned off the shower, and for lack of another choice, grabbed the lush, thick complimentary terry cloth bathrobe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Only when it was on did she drag the couch away and open the door a crack. She had her chin up and was ready to battle wits. Except she was alone.

Well, not completely. Lariana was making the bed. She wore black again, a snugger-than-snug, low-scooped black blouse, a pair of tight, cropped pants with a tiny white half apron tied in a perfect bow low on her spine, topped off with spike heels that sank into the thick carpeting of the bedroom as she tugged the sheets taut.

Breanne admired the strength and stamina it must take to work in those heels, and thought longingly of the suitcases she'd lost, filled to the brim with her favorite fashions. Hugging the white robe to her still-damp body, she thought of her choices- her jeans and sweater and ruined boots, or Cooper's sweats.

Ugh.

Lariana stopped nipping and tucking and faced Breanne with a holier-than-thou expression that was amusing, given that Breanne knew exactly how the maid had spent her evening.

Panting Patrick's name and giving in to his lusty demands.

'Sleep okay?' Lariana asked innocently, with only the slightest trace of sarcasm. They both knew Breanne hadn't started out in this bedroom.

'Gee, great,' she said, just as innocently. 'And you?'

Lariana's own superior smile didn't so much as falter. 'Fabulosa.'

Yeah, she just bet. 'So how often do you get stuck sleeping here?'

'Whenever there's a bad storm.'

'Edward, too?'

Lariana began fluffing pillows. 'Except him.'

'Really? Where did he go?'

'I don't know-I'm not in charge of the man. He's in charge of me.

'Breanne sat on the bed, so Lariana had no choice but to stop making it and look at her. 'Someone came into my room last night.'

'Yes. Apparently Cooper.'

Breanne glanced at the scene of the 'crime,' the huge, luxurious mattress around her. She still couldn't get over what she'd allowed to happen. How stupid she'd been to think that sheet would possibly keep Cooper on his side of the bed.

But to be fair, it hadn't been him alone violating the imposed border. When she'd come all the way awake, she'd been on his side. Humiliating, really, that in sleep she'd been so desperate. 'Not Cooper.'

Lariana's perfectly waxed brow shot up. 'No?'

'No. I fell asleep in that room you gave me and woke up to someone standing over the bed. After a near coronary, I came running in here.'

Lariana frowned. 'You sure? Very sure?'

'Sure about what?' Shelly asked, appearing in the doorway with a smile. Her petite frame was in another pair of jeans and a long pink angora sweater that fell to her thighs. She had her hair neatly pulled back in a ponytail and a flush to her cheeks as she looked back and forth between Lariana and Breanne. 'What's up?'

'Breanne says she saw someone in her room last night,' Lariana told her. 'Standing over her.'

Shelly gasped. 'Really?'

'A dream,' Lariana said. 'On a night like last night, we probably all dreamed badly.'

Shelly, eyes wide, nodded. 'Yes.'

'I wasn't dreaming,' Breanne said.

Lariana and Shelly exchanged a wordless look that probably meant humor the crazy guest.

'Forget it,' Breanne said with an irritated sigh.

Shelly patted her arm. 'I made breakfast by getting creative with the fireplace. Cooper's already sniffing around the dining room, waiting. Are you hungry?'

She was starving, probably from burning up half a million calories just from trying to inhale Cooper's body a few minutes ago.

But could she face him? Another thing entirely. 'I don't have anything to wear.'

'Oh, I have plenty,' Shelly offered. 'I'll get you something.'

Everyone looked first at Shelly's tiny frame, then at Breanne's not-so-tiny one, no one pointing out to Shelly the difference between a size one and a size eight.

Okay, a ten, damn it.

'I'll get you something of mine,' Lariana said with a hint of martyrdom. 'I brought a small bag with me to work yesterday because of the storm.'

When she'd left, Shelly looked at Breanne. 'You ended up here, huh?'

They both looked at the huge bed.

'I didn't sleep with him,' Breanne said.

Shelly lifted a brow.

'Okay, I slept with him. But not slept with him, slept with him.'

'Does he kiss as good as he smiles?'

Better. 'Look, I'm not interested in him, okay?' Trying not to be. 'I gave up on men, remember?'

'Oh, don't say that! You can't. You inspired me, you know.' Shelly smiled. 'Today is the day.'

'The day for what?'

'That I get Dante to notice me.' She twirled in a circle and laughed as she fell to the bed. 'Any helpful hints?'

'You shouldn't take advice from someone who was dumped at the altar.' Three times.

'I'm sure it wasn't your fault,' Shelly said loyally. 'Now, come on. Give me a pointer or two.'

Oh boy. She thought of Dante's world-weary, old-before-his-time eyes, and then looked into Shelly's sweet ones. 'Are you sure? Because-'

'He's the one for me.'