Hot Sheets. Jeanie LondonЧитать онлайн книгу.
“That’s what I thought. But my fiancée spends all her time explaining to my ultraconservative future in-laws that being the guests of honor at your Naughty Nuptials isn’t the same thing as having our wedding featured in an X-rated movie.”
Delia sighed. “I shouldn’t have told them about the documentary.”
The Worldwide Travel Association had sent a photojournalist to document the Wedding Wing’s grand opening and as the featured bridal couple, Delia and Jackson would be front and center of the coverage. She could see where ultraconservative future in-laws might have trouble connecting the Naughty Nuptials with a legitimate hospitality industry documentary.
“What can I do to help?” she asked, needing more information to figure out how to address the problem. “I reserved your folks a regular room on the same guest floor where you’ll be staying until the ceremony. They shouldn’t run into anything too controversial there.”
Unfortunately, that was about the only place they wouldn’t run into anything too controversial.
“As long as we don’t invite them to see our honeymoon suite,” Jackson said.
“Oh, God, no,” Delia agreed. “The Shangri-la Paradise would be enough to make my mother faint. And to be honest, I haven’t figured out how to break the news about the sex-toy shower, either.”
Laura understood. Falling Inn Bed dealt exclusively in sex and as sex was an intensely personal subject…by necessity, the staff had become skilled in assessing guests’ reactions to put them at ease with the subject matter.
Fortunately, she had the advantage of knowing Delia. Beneath her fashion-model looks was actually a very shy woman who’d taken a while to warm up. And if Mom was anything like daughter…
Jackson wouldn’t have mentioned the situation unless he needed help. He knew Laura’s specialty happened to be converting her guests into romance enthusiasts.
“What time do your parents arrive tomorrow?” she asked.
“Their flight’s due early. A little after eight.”
“Great, plenty of time before the festivities start.” Looping her arm through Delia’s, she steered her toward the promenade. “Come on. Let’s get you checked in. We’ll talk while we walk. I’ve got an idea.”
Laura detailed her plan to have a limo pick up Delia’s parents at the airport for a grand tour of Niagara Falls. “Let’s give them a little VIP treatment and warm them up to the area before we bring them to the inn. You tell me what interests them, and I’ll assign a concierge to be their guide.”
She smiled, hoping to reassure an anxious Delia. “We’ve got a lot more than the falls around here and my staff is skilled at presenting our unique services. We’ll break the news about the events in bits and pieces, and I’m sure we’ll have them comfortable and ready to have fun before they even check in.”
Jackson smiled appreciatively. “Sounds like a great place to start.”
“And you’re sure this won’t be too much trouble?” Delia asked.
“Not at all, Delia,” she said. “I’ll have your folks back in plenty of time to get settled before the festivities. All you have to do is prepare them for the official Falling Inn Bed parents-of-the-bride VIP treatment. And now, are you ready for the unveiling?” Laura brought them to a stop beneath the entrance to survey the newly decorated lobby. “Ta-da! Here it is. What do you think?”
Delia and Jackson’s obvious pleasure made Laura smile. While they’d been involved with the construction of the new addition from the ground breaking, they’d left for their next project before the design crew had worked its magic. And the finished project—from the ornate ceilings and papered walls to the array of cranberry ware vases and the Mireille Marceaux displayed in prominence—was indeed magical.
“Laura, I can’t tell you what it means that you chose us as special guests for your grand opening,” Delia said.
“Special guests?” she repeated. “You’re the honorary bridal couple for the Naughty Nuptials. And who better to inaugurate the Wedding Wing? Not only did you help build it, but you got engaged here. You’ll be written into our history as the couple who started the matrimony ball rolling.”
And establishing what Laura believed with her whole heart and soul—that a perfect man existed for every woman. What better place than the Wedding Wing to begin a marriage?
There wasn’t one as far as she was concerned.
Motioning her bridal couple toward the wing’s check-in desk, she said, “I’ve got a few things I need to cover and then you can go settle in. The events won’t officially begin until the welcome reception tomorrow night, which is why I wanted you here early. You deserve to relax before your guests arrive.”
Accepting a package from the desk clerk, a box gift-wrapped in white silk and wedding bells that contained the introductory packet, she passed it to Delia. “Inside is everything you need to prepare. Program. Itinerary. Maps. Checklist. I’ve also included copies of the Bride’s Guerrilla Handbook and Groom’s Survival Guide.”
Jackson rolled his eyes. “The Groom’s Survival Guide?”
“I wrote these handbooks myself,” she explained. “And you need to know everything in them. Trust me.”
“Of course we do,” Delia said, coaching her fiancé.
“Good.” Now if her staff could just win over the bride’s reluctant parents, they’d be off to a good start. “Swear to me you’ll look over everything and call if you have any questions. I’m 1-1 on the house phone.”
After helping them to check-in, she saw Delia and Jackson settled before making her way up to her own honeymoon suite on the fifth floor. Beyond the door lay the suite she and Dale had designed together. A place for lovers.
And a man who might become her lover.
If he wasn’t angry about his date.
Taking a deep breath, Laura slipped the card key from her pocket and unlocked the door.
The Castaway Honeymoon Isle was a penthouse suite with an open floor plan arranged around a central focal point—a tropical oasis complete with lush plants, a heated pool and rushing waterfall. It had been dubbed Lovers’ Lagoon during construction and the name had stuck. Now it graced the promotional materials and the Web site.
The suite played to the fantasy of a couple being stranded on a deserted island alone, and every room in the place—including the bath—overlooked this oasis through a wall of glass.
There was a comfortable living area, a minikitchen and dining area, a master bath with a glass shower stall large enough for two and a bedroom with a bed large enough for plenty of sex play.
Laura had chosen the theme herself, a delightful Key West decor that was both airy and colorful and brought to mind translucent turquoise water and spun-sugar sand. Inhaling another calming breath, she closed the door and turned….
There he was, watching her from across the suite, where he’d sprawled in a chair with a vantage of the door. With his long legs outstretched and his elbows casually hooked on the chair arms, Dale looked equal parts expectant and predatory in a distinctly bad boy way.
She couldn’t help but marvel at how her body went on red alert at the mere sight of him, a result of his overpowering good looks—black hair, cleanly chiseled features and a lethal grin. He had this hint-of-a-dark-shadow thing going on along his jaw that only added to the effect.
Even sitting, there was no missing that Dale was a tall man, athletic, a man who could move with fast, strong motion and energetic grace. Add that to the way he idly fingered her invitation while watching her with those smoky gray eyes, and her heart sped up its beat until she could barely breathe.
“Hello, Laura.”
The minute he opened