“Rachel, this is my aunt, Roberta Palmer. Aunt Roberta, this is Rachel Lindquist.”
Roberta’s eyes seemed to bore right into Rachel. “My gosh, Bryan, she’s a doll! A doll!” She grasped Rachel’s hand in a death grip. “You’re just a doll, Raquel!”
“Rachel,” Rachel mumbled, completely thrown off by this strange woman who appeared to be drowning in a Notre Dame sweatshirt five sizes too big for her. “Thank you.”
“My gosh,” Roberta whispered, shaking her head at some secret amazement.
They all stood staring at one another for a long moment. Finally Rachel roused the manners her mother had drilled into her. “Why don’t we all go inside? I’ll make us a pot of coffee. Decaf,” she added, thinking Bryan’s aunt didn’t need to get any more wired than she already was.
They trooped into the hall, and Bryan dropped his aunt’s luggage down on the marble floor at the foot of the grand staircase. The stuff weighed a ton and a half.
“How long will you be staying, Aunt Roberta?” he asked.
Roberta shrugged, her face alight with excitement as she set off after Rachel. “A month or so.”
With a wry smile Bryan dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a handful of notes. He sorted through them until he found the one he wanted, then he located his pencil and amended the missive.
ELEVEN
September 12, 1931
Great luck at Monte’s. Mrs. R. very accommodating.
September 21, 1931
Clement sisters staying with H. Langely. Real gems.
Must call again.
September 25, 1931
Langely off to San Francisco. Golden opportunity.
Thank you, C. sisters.
Bryan shifted his back against the headboard, sighed, and turned the page. So far Arthur Drake’s journal was providing him with nothing but an account of the man’s rather promiscuous love life. He couldn’t imagine what Porky and the Rat would have wanted with it, but he figured he had only a short time to find out. They would be back to claim the thing, of that he was certain.
Why did they want Drake House? What did Porchind’s relative, the late Mr. Pig, have to do with it?
Money. That word came to him strongly, but it didn’t make any sense. The condition it was in, Drake House wasn’t worth anything. The property itself might have had development possibilities, but that didn’t strike him as the reason. There was no adjacent development in the works. Anastasia already had its share of inns and hotels. There was some other reason, and it had to do with money and this little black book he held pressed to his bare chest.
It was nearly two A.M. They had settled Aunt Roberta in Rachel’s room for the night. Rachel lay snuggled against him, sound asleep. She looked so young when she was sleeping, so pretty, so free of worry. Desire stirred in him anew. He would have liked nothing better than to rouse her with kisses and make love to her again, but she was exhausted and he had work to do.
He turned another page in the diary.
September 27, 1931
Party with A.W. at Garner’s. My friend has a dangerous tongue. Worked to my advantage tonight. Caught Cecilia Jonstone unawares while Archie made a friend.
September 29, 1931
Pig getting too fat and sassy. Must roast soon.
October 10, 1931
Stuck pig. Ducky outfoxed the pig! My turn to get fat.
“Stuck pig,” Bryan mumbled. He ran a hand back through his disheveled hair. “Stuck pig.”
“Mmmm?” Rachel mumbled in her sleep.
She turned over and snuggled closer to him still, kicking the sheet off and using his belly for a pillow. Bryan bit his lip against the groan that rose up in his throat. Her cheek was soft and cool against his skin. Her warm breath swept across his groin as she sighed. As she settled down he forced his attention back to the book.
October 12, 1931
Can’t find A.W. anywhere. Worried he said the wrong thing to the wrong person.
Rachel murmured something unintelligible in her sleep and Bryan had to choke back another groan as her lips brushed against his stomach muscles. She nuzzled against him and brought her hand up his thigh to rest it in a spot that made sweat break out on his forehead. A contented smile curved her mouth as she stroked him. Molten heat seared his veins, pooling in the pit of his belly.
His body’s reaction was inevitable, which seemed to please the sleeping Rachel. She mumbled something softly and the vibration of her lips against his skin just about sent Bryan over the edge. He tried to ease away from her, but her fingers closed around him and all he could do was close his eyes and whimper. She was giving him a five- star arousal and the little minx was sound asleep!
“Rachel,” he said, abandoning the journal on the cluttered nightstand. He stroked a shaking hand over her hair. “Rachel, sweetheart.”
Rachel lifted her eyelids just enough to peer up at him. His face was flushed. His blue eyes seemed unusually bright. His expression was pained.
“Why is the light on?” she mumbled.
“The better to see you with, my dear,” he quipped, baring his teeth.
“Are you feeling all right?” she asked, concern knitting her brows.
“Wonderful,” he said sardonically. “Can’t you tell?”
The last fog of sleep drifted out of her head as she realized she was at eye level with his belly button. Her gaze snapped downward, and she gasped. Bryan was roused and ready, and her fingers looked very guilty considering where they were.
“Caught red-handed with the loaded gun, so to speak,” Bryan said. He chuckled as he took in the blush that bloomed on her cheeks. “I’ve heard of sleepwalking, but sleep seducing is a new one on me. What have you got to say for yourself, Miss Lindquist?”
Her initial embarrassment evaporated in the sensual heat that was rolling off him. Beneath her cheek his stomach muscles were like rock. He smelled deliciously male and musky. Desire rippled through her. Scooting down a little farther on the bed, she turned onto her stomach and looked up at him, her hair a wild golden mane around her head and shoulders, her eyes nearly purple with passion.
“I always finish what I start,” she whispered in a languid, smoky voice.
“An admirable trait in a young woman,” Bryan said through his teeth as she lowered her head. He groaned long and with feeling.
Somewhere below them a scream split the air.
“A man could die from this kind of frustration,” Bryan complained as he threw his long legs over the edge of the bed and reached for his jeans. “Cases have been documented. You could look it up.”
Rachel wasn’t interested. She had already thrown on a robe and was rushing down the hall toward Addie’s room in her bare feet.
“Mother? Mother, are you all right?”
“Rachel?” Addie burst out of her room, clutching her pink chiffon robe to her chest with one hand. In the other hand she clutched a rock. “Someone’s broken into the house! Call your father!”
Bryan dashed past them, threw one leg over the mahogany banister, and shot down the polished railing to the foyer. Lights flashed at the end of the hall. The alarm on his electronic sensor buzzed furiously. He ran for the study, adrenaline pumping through him.
