Kali Willows BUNDLE (Shadowed Desires Series) (12 page)

Pulling up the drafting for the project, Wyatt clicked and tapped away at the design while he spoke.

“Terrific. So have you decided on the style you want for the new site?”

“That’s what we’re still not clear on. I have a proposal for you, though.”

“Oh? What would that be?”

“You’ve been a great architect and helped me put together some magnificent hotels for our chain. To put this project in perspective, I wonder if you would be willing to make a bit of a business trip for me.”

“Where to, Jackson?” He stifled a chuckle. Jackson always kept him on his toes.

“I’m sending you an email. I’d like you to stay at one of the hotels we discussed modeling this next site after, but there is a catch. While you’re gathering ideas that will fit the Rio locale, I have a personal matter for you to attend to as well. Take a look at the proposal, think it over, and get back to me.”

“You’re sounding mysterious, Jackson—what are you up to?” Wyatt’s suspicions overtook his attempt at sounding aloof.

“The email will explain it all. We’ll chat later. Let me know what you decide—I do have one request.”

“What’s that?”

“Try to keep an open mind.”

“Jackson—”

“I’ll talk to you later; the missus is meeting me in Gina’s kitchen. We have some new dishes to sample. Bye.”

Before he could respond, the phone went dead. Baffled and still suspicious, Wyatt opened his email. Dozens of messages downloaded and he scanned them until Jackson’s address popped up.

The subject line had only a name:
Madame Evangeline
.

Clicking it open, he grabbed his mug and sipped at his steaming coffee. Halfway through taking a drink, he choked, spitting the hot brew on his open planner and the glowing monitor. “What the hell?”

Canvassing his desktop, he had nothing to clean up the mess. He jumped up, grabbed a box of Kleenex, wiped up the excess moisture, and sat down again.

Sopping up his chin and the front of his shirt, he strained to focus on the glaring words before him. “Matchmaking?” This had to be a joke. The most active playboy in America didn’t need a matchmaking service. He turned spoiled debutantes away on a daily basis. There was no shortage of women in his life. Had Jackson lost his mind? Or was he playing a really bad joke?

Scrolling down, he read the explanation.

Wyatt, you’re a hardworking man whom I have grown to respect a great deal. The women you see have proven themselves to be a disappointment. I thought, perhaps, I could offer you a small favor to repay you for everything you’ve done, helping me and my family with our hotel chain. Madame Eve is highly respected, private, and can make your wildest dreams come true—a one-night stand, with no gold diggers looking to land a bank account.

I realize you’re a highly accomplished man in the romance department, but the way we have been keeping you so busy, traveling the world and building our hotels, has also cost you personally. No, this isn’t a joke. Please think about it. If you’re willing to be adventurous and give it a try, fill out her questionnaire and send it to her. She’ll be in touch with you when she finds a good match. No commitment and no disappointment. Trust me; I know what I’m talking about.

Jackson

This was by far, the most absurd offer he’d ever received—a one-night stand through a dating service. Jackson did know how to get his goat. Challenging him to be adventurous always triggered a deep-rooted need to rise to the occasion. Cynically, he scoffed and opened the attachment as he began to gnaw on his lip.

The inside of his lip stung from the chewing when Wyatt sat back in disbelief and denial.
That pompous ass expects me to pour my heart and soul out to a faceless name on an email? For what, a night of sex? Sex I can get anywhere and anytime
.

Over the years, Wyatt had become quite a master at masking and even burying his feelings and his heartbreak. Now, he faced a personal interrogation, a page of seriously personal questions that opened up his vulnerabilities. The first question opened the door to the secret emotions he had avoided all this time.

Have you ever been in love?

Propelled by resentment and anger, he hammered away at the keys, releasing years of pent-up frustration and sorrow. At first, he found it more of a cathartic device, to vent, rather than take it out on a valuable client who’d become a good friend. Jackson’s intentions may have been ideal, but his actions….

An hour later, the very document that had sent him into a fury to begin with had become a project he wanted to finish. Completing the entire questionnaire had left him with a pressing sense of curiosity, rather than bitterness.

Maybe Jackson had a point. All the spoiled little rich girls who chased him had further soured his already broken sense of love and trust. The question that puzzled him most involved the level of passion he’d experienced. It asked about his most explosive and moving sexual encounter. He searched his mental catalogue of gratuitous memories. Hundreds of sexual conquests, all leaving some level of dissatisfaction. The most extreme and compelling experience he recalled occurred in his teens, with the girl who ripped his heart from his chest. She’d effectively ruined any chance for him to love again, let alone truly experience passion.

***

Airports had never been her favorite places. Tawny glanced at her watch as she tapped her foot repeatedly.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.” Sitting up with some relief, she glared at her tardy friend. “I’ve been going out of my mind. I thought you stood me up.”

Laura dropped into the chair beside her, let her bags fall onto the floor, and exhaled.

“Oh, honey, I had trouble getting a cab, got stuck in traffic, but I’m here. Why would I stand you up?”

“I don’t know, I thought maybe you weren’t really having a—meeting—a—oh, you know what I mean.” Her ears and cheeks flushed with heat as she tripped over her words.

“Oh, believe me Tawny, you are not the only one who needs some fun. You won’t be going anywhere without me!”

“Flight 325 is now boarding at Gate 41,” the overhead speaker boomed.

“Wow, I made it. Let’s go.”

“Uh—Laura?”

“Yeah?”

“Where exactly
are
we going?”

“I’m not sure. Madame Eve booked a private flight and didn’t reveal the destination. Exciting, isn’t it?”

“Exciting? Right.” With a grumble, she stood up collecting her bags, and draped them over her slumped shoulder.

“Oh, lighten up, it’s gonna be great.”

They stepped into the surreal atmosphere of the small aircraft. The cabin’s décor screamed royalty. Tawny and Laura took in the plush crimson seats, full bar at the back, and dimmed lighting. Classical music played softly in the background. The low hum and vibration of the engine provided an oddly soothing white noise. Tawny’s stomach fluttered.

“We will be taking off shortly, ladies—can I tuck away your bags for you?” A charming, deep voice caught Tawny’s attention. The handsome blond man at the end of the row held out his hands for their luggage. A second attendant, a stunning redhead, led them to their seats.

“May I offer you a glass of champagne to begin your vacation?” Her pleasant smile evoked a grin from Tawny.

“Yes, please.”

“Honey, have you got anything stronger? I’m not much of a flyer,” Laura chimed in.

Tawny gawked at her with raised brows. “Really? You’re nervous?”

“Maybe, a little…okay, I’m shaking in my Jimmy Choos.” Laura held up one foot and eased off the stylish stiletto.

“Well, that puts my worries at ease.”

“Here you go, ladies. Look over our in-flight menu, and you have a selection of movies. Our flight will last five hours, so let’s get you comfortable.”

The pampering had begun. Surprisingly, Tawny began to enjoy herself—a little.

***

“Welcome to Calla del Castillo, Mr. MacKenzie.” A familiar voice shook Wyatt from his awestruck daze. He spun around, following the sound.

“Jackson? You son of a gun, what the hell are you doing here?” Wyatt shook his head in disbelief as he eyed his dark-haired friend and paused a moment to admire the petite and extremely attractive blonde at his side. “Where exactly are we? No one would tell me anything on the plane. You know I’m not a big fan of surprises.”

“Wyatt, my friend, life is too short to stay mad at your well-meaning comrade.” He chuckled. “We are in La Savina, Formentera a small island off the coast of Spain. Remarkable, isn’t it?” Jackson waved around the colossal foyer. “Let’s get you checked into your suite and perhaps in an hour or so, you can join us for dinner and a drink. You must be tired and hungry after your long flight.”

“I could use a hot shower and something to eat.”

The concierge stepped forward, completing the check in. He handed Wyatt the room key card and a sealed manila envelope.

“What is this?”

“Your itinerary, sir.”

“Itinerary?” A sigh of annoyance escaped before he could temper his response.

“No worries, dear friend. Tonight you can wind down and see the sights. Tomorrow…your journey to ecstasy will begin.”

Wyatt eyed the poised man with exasperation at his lack of discretion and then caught the bashful expression worn by the attractive woman at his side. Her cheeks had grown bright red as she watched the floor, almost concealing her wide grin with dangling tendrils of flaxen—dear God, she knew what Jackson had planned. Wyatt was mortified.

On his walk toward the elevator, his design appraisal kicked in. Spanish Renaissance inspired décor featured handcrafted ornamental moldings around the gold framed doors. He admired endless rows of richly colored floor tiles laid in decorative patterns and deep, earthy tones of chestnut and mahogany brown that accentuated the Gothic-inspired furnishings of red strategically placed throughout the massive hall. The floor, the walls, the carvings, and the art highlighted the prestigious atmosphere. He approved.

In one swift motion, he flung his bags across the massive, king-sized bed. Rifling through his things, he mumbled under his breath. “Business before pleasure. I can’t believe she knows what he’s—” He stripped down on his way to the bathroom and stopped short of the doorway, marveling at the inviting steam shower with multi-directional massaging jets. Oh, this was a sacrifice he could force himself to make, for a “well-meaning comrade”.

***

The drive up the winding road revealed a hint of the breathtaking scenery.

“Oh my God, it’s a castle, Tawny, and right on the water.”

“Thanks for the play by play.” Watching the view of the sea allowed her to avoid eye contact; hiding her fear had become a daunting task.

“Oh, stop being such a poop.” Laura opened the window, letting the warm air flow through the back seat and across their faces. The ocean breeze teased strands from the confines of Tawny’s hair clip.

As they pulled up to the front door, she admired the soothing, trickling of the cascading water fountain. She canvassed the magnificent array of colorful and fragrant flower beds, and nodded to two liveried porters.

“Good evening, ladies, and welcome to Casa del Castillo.” The smiling older gentleman waiting by the entrance held out his hand to assist Tawny out of the car.

“Wow.” Stunned, she followed her belongings on the porters’ rolling rack into the hotel, unable to mask her astonishment at the glorious castle.

***

“Well, Tawny, I guess this is it?”

“Separate suites—I thought we’d be in the same room.” Unable to hide her frown, she burrowed through her purse for a tip.

“Well, duh, did you really think we would share a room for—the whole trip?”

“Ugh!”

“Okay, sorry You’re touchy today.”

“Ms. Reeve, we are ready to take you to your suite.”

“Thank you.” She followed the uniformed man, trying to hide the moisture spilling down her cheeks.

“Wait a minute,” Laura commanded from behind her.

Tawny stopped, staring straight ahead, discreetly wiping away the wetness on the sleeve of her teal silk blouse.

“You forgot your itinerary, dear.” Laura’s smug tone irked her, and she held out her hand. She’d set it down on a table in her dismay.

“You’re gonna have a great time, and so will I. Here’s my room number. Call me when you get settled in; we can grab a bite to eat. My itinerary shows nothing scheduled tonight.” Laura rubbed Tawny’s shoulders with quick but tender hands.

“Fine.” She walked briskly to the elevator still trying to hold back the rushing wave of frustration and sadness that overtook her chest.

***

Tawny tipped the man and locked the door as he left. In an instant, she tore the camel envelope open and inspected the itinerary.

“Spa treatments? Hair salon? Esthetician? Costume shop…
masquerade ball?
”

The list overwhelmed her until she reached the nine p.m. time slot:
Meet your match under the rose covered chandelier at the ball. He will be holding a white orchid
.

Tawny had never experienced hyperventilation before, but her inability to catch her breath and fast-paced gasping clued her in. Clutching the envelope and papers in her hand, she rushed to the chaise and sat down, reaching for the phone. Her trembling fingers fumbled for the right numbers.

“Laura? Oh God, I can’t do this.”

***

The tea had grown cold before she swallowed the last of the herbal brew.

“Are you any better now?”

Still somewhat slumped over, Tawny placed the cup down on the antique table and settled back into the posh, purple armchair.

“Yes, I know I’m a pain. I’m sorry; it became so real all of the sudden. Seeing the time and place and picturing….”

“Believe it or not, I had a similar reaction when I read mine. Mind you, I didn’t almost pass out from lack of oxygen.” Laura’s light-hearted laughter was a welcome sound.

“I guess I did overreact, a little. Wait, you have the same itinerary?” A rush of hope flowed through her.