Once Upon a Dream (13 page)

Following Daisy, she took in the house. The first time she’d visited the Amberlin country manor it’d been after Portia’s fiancé, Jackson, had turned it into a resort. Even though it’d been basically a hotel, it’d been charming, with many of the Summerhill antiques used in decorating the rooms.

This house was just gaudy. Gilt and cherubs everywhere. She stared at a particularly grotesque one with bulging eyes. Why would you put that in your home?

“This way, miss,” Daisy said, interrupting Summer’s thoughts. She led them up the stairs, spry despite carrying the bag. “Just down the hall.”

The hall was exceedingly long, and Summer was almost out of breath when they arrived at the room.

“Here you go.” The maid opened the door to a room that was rather dank and cold despite the sun outside.

“Thank you,” Summer murmured, looking around.

Daisy set the bag by a large wardrobe. “There are a few of the early arrivals downstairs in the library, and there are refreshments. Just back down the stairs, and then the second doorway on the right.”

She murmured another thank you as Daisy closed the door. Taking a moment to hang Gigi’s dress, she unpacked a couple more things and then girded her loins and went downstairs. She had a man to track down.

As if Fate were delivering Ryan to her, she ran into him at the bottom of the stairs.

Her breath caught, and she slowed as she approached him. He looked so noble, even in his casual, country attire. His khaki pants had a crisp crease down the legs and the collar of his shirt was turned up. His hair was slicked back just so, and he had a sweater tied around his neck.

Her brow furrowed as she studied him. It looked posed and, frankly, a little effeminate.

She shook her head. She wasn’t a fashion guru—what did she know about how to dress in the country? That was probably how men dressed here. Ryan was very fashionable, after all. She imagined being with him, just like this, in this house with a sweater tied around her neck, and waited for the feeling to fill her heart.

Nothing happened. Her heart didn’t fill—it didn’t even palpitate harder. She frowned at him. Why was that?

She just needed to talk to him. She opened her mouth to say something, but it took a couple times clearing her throat before she could squeak, “Hello.”

He looked her up and down.

Something in his gaze made her uncomfortable, like an eel sliding across her skin. Summer caught herself before she shuddered. He was her prince. He had all the qualities she wanted in a man, and she was going to prove it. “Hello,” she said again, determined.

“Do I know you?” He took her hand, holding it in his limp grip.

He was probably trying not to crush her fingers, the way some men did. She tried to smile, not sure why he still held her hand. “Not officially.”

Stepping closer, he lowered his voice, “We should change that.”

Her body shuddered in distaste as his breath landed on her neck. Pulling her fingers free from Ryan, she wiped them on her skirt. “Wouldn’t your girlfriend mind?”

He withdrew a little. “Are you a friend of hers?”

Frowning, she shook her head. “No, but it just seems …”

“What?” he asked when she didn’t finish her sentence. “Sondra doesn’t need to know.”

She gaped at him. That wasn’t chivalrous. He should break up with his girlfriend and then hit on her.

Unless he wasn’t hitting on her.

She stepped back. She was idealistic, but she wasn’t an idiot. He was definitely hitting on her. “I, er—”

“So this is where the party is,” an awful American voice boomed from behind her.

She whirled around. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought she was relieved to see fake-Ryan walking toward them.

His lips were smiling, but his eyes weren’t. His green gaze was focused on her, intent.

He’d looked at her like that before he’d kissed her.

She touched her lips, which tingled with hope. Utterly silly considering she was
never
kissing him again, because she wanted Prince Charming.

She turned to Ryan Huber.

Fake-Ryan stepped in front of real-Ryan, blocking her view. “This is a surprise.”

Because she knew he’d try to get her kicked out since Ryan hadn’t invited her, she smiled and decided to be outright with it. “I thought I’d follow you up and surprise you. Are you surprised?”

“Definitely shocked,” he said flatly.

She smiled at the hard edge of displeasure to his words. She turned to Ryan. “I never introduced myself. I’m Summer Welles.”

“You’re a friend of Jon’s, I gather,” Ryan said, looking back and forth between them.

Jon
. She studied him. Was that his real name?

She glanced at “Jon” before facing their host again. “A close friend, actually.”

Ryan gave the two of them considering looks. “Then maybe you should be close to each other. Which room are you in?”

She described the room and where it was.

He nodded and turned to Jon. “I’ll put you in the room next door.”

“Excellent,” they both said, looking at each other suspiciously. Summer knew why she wanted him close—so she could keep an eye on him—but what was his motivation?

“Maybe you can show Jon the way, Summer.” Ryan winked. “I hear another car arriving.”

“By all means.” She looked at him, feeling a ridiculous anticipation. “Shall we?”

“Oh, definitely.”

She waited until they were out of earshot. “
Jon
? Really? That was the best name you could make up?”

He took her elbow and held her close, talking in her ear. “What makes you think it’s made up?”

“Next you’ll tell me your last name is Smith.”

He said nothing.

“Seriously?” She gaped at him. “Jon Smith was the best you could come up with?”

“What if it’s actually my name?”

She snorted.

“You’re very distrusting,” he said, so close to her ear she shivered with the feel of his breath.

“You don’t look like a Jon,” she said to cover the disconcerted feeling.

He glanced at her. “What do I look like?”

Temptation. Sin. Like the darkest chocolate cake with a salted caramel middle. “You look like a Tobias.”

“No I don’t.”

She shrugged. “Tell me your name then.”

“Jon Lincoln, here. I don’t want you to blow my cover.”

She rolled her eyes. “Come along, Jon Lincoln-Smith-Tobias.”

“Do you know where you’re going?” he asked after a moment.

Actually, she had no clue. She stopped, looking around at all the unfamiliar furniture.

He sighed. “Come on, princess. I’ll show you the way.”

Not likely. But she bit her lip and let him guide her—just this once.

Chapter Fourteen

Off
.

He pulled at the rope that bound him to the wall. He had to get it off—he had to get away. If he got free now, maybe he could catch up to his mom.

The voices.

He stilled, hearing them come close. They were coming to get him.

He pulled his arms. He had to
get free
.

Jon bolted up, heart pounding, trying to free his hands from the tangled sheets. For an instant he couldn’t remember where he was, and the worst came to mind.

But then it came back to him—Bradley, Huber, and Summer Welles—and he slumped back against the pillow. He rubbed his hands over his sweaty face, the smell lingering from his dream, from his childhood. The smell was the most haunting—piss and dirty bodies.

To calm himself the rest of the way back to normalcy, he catalogued the details of the room. Bed. Dresser, a new gilded replication of an antique. Paintings of naked women and fat babies that Huber seemed partial to. His bag, tidy in the corner.

It was early, so early the sun hadn’t risen. It felt dark, and he wondered if that was just his heart.

Coffee—he needed coffee.

Forgoing underwear for expediency, he pulled on the pants he’d discarded the night before. He picked up his shirt from the floor and, one sleeve on, opened his door.

And ran right into Summer.

She blinked at him, her eyes practically glowing. She wore black, of course, and the black melted into the darkness of the hall, making her eyes appear that much brighter.

“You startled me,” she said, her hand at her throat.

He scowled, putting his arm through the other sleeve. “What are you doing up?”

“I always wake up early.” She glanced at his chest and darted her eyes back up to his. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He glared at her, barely resisting the urge to growl.

“Ah.” She nodded, comprehension clearly on her face. “You’re like Titania. Good thing I know what to do. Come on.”

Titania? He stared after her as she walked down the hall. He tried not to look but, damn it, the sway of her walk annoyed him this morning. He growled under his breath as he buttoned his shirt, suddenly remembering that Titania was one of her half-sisters. The strange name should have been a clue.

Without turning around, she said, “Don’t worry. You’ll have relief shortly.”

Not the relief he wanted now.

For some reason, he followed her all the way to the kitchen. He ignored the three staff members in there, instead watching Summer charm two coffee cups, a carafe, and a plate of baked goods out of the cook. She handed Jon the cups and said, “Follow me.”

“What have I been doing so far?” he grumbled, not arguing because she had the goods.

She led him down the hall to a small study. Waiting until he entered, she closed the door behind them and went straight to the couch. She set her load down and held out her hand. “Give me your cup.”

He grunted but did as she asked.

She filled it carefully, not a drop missed. Then she took the other cup and filled hers halfway. Setting the carafe on the table, she then sat her cup on the table and picked up the plate.

“Cake?” he asked incredulously. “For breakfast?”

She smiled, picking up a piece with her fingers. “It seems hopeful, doesn’t it? Want some?”

He looked at the piece she held out. The devil take him, but he was tempted to eat it from her hands and lick her fingers. They’d be as sweet as the pastry. “I don’t like cake.”

“Everybody likes cake.” She smiled at him. “You just haven’t found the flavor you’re partial to yet.”

He grunted, focusing on his coffee. He took a sip, the heat washing away the last remnants of ash from the dream. He closed his eyes and focused his attention inward, a private meditation to bring himself back to his center. He had so much practice at letting the dream go by now, that it didn’t take long before the fear and the rage dissipated. He took a deep breath and brought himself back to his purpose.

Get evidence against Ryan Huber. Move to his island retreat.

When he opened his eyes, Summer was studying him. “Better?” she asked.

He picked up the carafe from the table and refilled his cup.

“I guess not,” she mumbled. She turned her attention to the room, looking around the space with a confused look on her face.

He had to know. “What?”

“That deer is staring at us, as though it’s plotting revenge.”

He glanced up at the deer head hanging over the mantle. “You need to lay off the cake.”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I didn’t know Ryan was interested in hunting.”

Huber was interested in whatever prey he could exploit, but Jon kept that to himself.

Summer faced him. “Couldn’t you sleep well?”

He slept as well as any other night, which was to say only for a couple hours. Usually he was only tormented by his past. He started last night by being tormented by Summer in the room next to his. He’d consoled himself with the fact that at least there wasn’t a connecting door. That would have been too tempting.

In his silence, Summer continued. “I had trouble sleeping, too. I thought country air was supposed to be great for sleeping, but it was eerily quiet, didn’t you think? Are you planning on searching the house this morning?”

“What?”

“You came to search for evidence against Ryan,” she said as though he were daft. “Are you starting now?”

“Why do you care?”

“I thought I’d tag along.”

“No.” He shook his head, vehement. And then, just in case she didn’t understand, he said, “No,” again.

She touched the modest diamond earrings in her lobes. “Hmm.”

“What does that mean?” he asked suspiciously.

“Nothing.” She smiled prettily at him.

He didn’t believe her innocence at all. “Summer, stay away from Huber.”

“I will if you will,” she said daintily, standing up. She gave him a smile. “Enjoy the rest of your morning.”

“You didn’t open your present yet.”

Frowning, Jon wedged the mobile between his ear and shoulder as he slipped on his shoes. “Are you going through my things?”

“I was cleaning the office and found it,” Trudy said.

“You were cleaning out the drawers of my desk on a Saturday?”

“I’m thorough at my job, which is why I called you.”

“It sounds like you called to torture me,” he mumbled, going to look out the window. Huber had told him that most of the guests would be arriving today. Jon was counting on it. The more people around, the easier it would be to camouflage his activities.

“I found these amazing listening devices. I thought I’d order a dozen to try them out, especially since we’re going to switch our focus to private investigation.”

“We’re not switching focus, Trudy. We’re closing shop.” He stilled, seeing Summer on the front lawn. But what stunned him was the way Huber was wrapped around her from behind.

Jon’s vision went red. He hit his fist against the pane. “
Son of a bitch.
”

“Er, Jon?”

“I have to go,” he said as he hung up. Tossing the phone on the bed, he ran out of his room all the way outside to see what sort of game Summer was playing.

Croquet, as it turned out. He looked incredulously at the mallets and balls and wickets, and then back at Summer.

Huber stood behind her, staring at her ass. “You’ve got great form, Summer. Now just relax and tap the ball gently.”