Sleepless in Savannah (30 page)

"You tell me, girl. Are you and my brother doing what I think you're doing?"

"Probably. Well, not this second."

Maddie squealed. "I knew those rules would work. He spent the night; that's a good sign."

"It is, isn't it?" His hand slipped down to cradle her breast, and Sophie batted it away.

"Absolutely." She heard Maddie clapping her hands. "Now, remember the next rule. Keep him sated."

Sophie tugged at the sheet, lowering it so she could enjoy the view of male muscle in her bed. "Don't worry; I'll do my best."

She laughed, then hung up the phone and slid back onto the pillows to fulfill her promise. As long as she kept Lance happy in bed, he couldn't ask any more questions.

* * *

The next week flew by. Lance spent his days working on Sophie's house, his evenings taking romantic strolls along the riverfront with Sophie, trying out different Savannah restaurants, and discussing her house. Afterward, they'd share a nightcap at one of the local pubs, then return to Sophie's and make love.

He had never slept so peacefully in his life. Apparently his insomnia was cured. As long as he slept with Sophie....

His mind wandered back to the busy week. Monday night they had taken the book tour based on
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
and eaten breakfast at Clary's Cafe, just as Luther Driggers, the eccentric character in the book, had done. Plates of pecan waffles, sausage biscuits with gravy, and country ham had been delicious. Tuesday they enjoyed live music at an outdoor table at Malone's, then dropped by the Six Pence Pub for a nightcap. Wednesday they took a carriage ride tour and dined at the fabulous Oyster Bar. Thursday night they toured a special showing by the Savannah College of Art and Design. At a neighboring antique store, Sophie bought a replica of a revolutionary war painting to hang in the dining room. He had suggested taking one of the casino cruise ships out for Las Vegas-style gambling, but Sophie had opted for a walk in Wormsloe State Historic Park, claiming she wasn't a gambler.

His persistence had finally paid off that week and earned him a meeting with McDaniels. Lance had been a half hour early and wowed the businessman with the blueprints Chase had drawn up, as well as the ideas he and Reid and Chase had outlined. McDaniels was strongly considering giving them the job, a multimillion-dollar contract that would put their company on the map and assure them financial security. It was also a long-term commitment.

He and Chase and Reid had met for drinks to discuss the meeting.

"I think it's in the bag," Chase said. "No one else has given detailed thought to the historical aspects of the location the way we have."

"I agree." Reid raised his beer for a toast. "Let's have dinner and celebrate."

Chase squirmed on his seat. "I sort of promised Maddie we'd go out tonight. She's been working so hard this week, and she's been really tired."

"Sophie and I have plans, too," Lance said.

Reid made a clicking sound with his teeth. "How's it going with her, man?"

Lance sipped his beer. "We've been dating all week."

"Is she as good as you expected?" Reid asked.

Chase poked him, and Lance frowned. "A gentlemen never tells."

Chase raised a brow. "You getting serious with her?"

Lance stared into the amber bottle. Sophie had certainly welcomed him into her arms and her bed each night, and they'd had great fun together, and mind-boggling sex, but... "I don't know; it seems like she's holding something back from me."

Reid waved at the bartender for another beer. "What do you mean? She doesn't get into sex the way you do?"

"No, it's not that." Lance dabbed a spot on his shirt with his napkin. "I can't put my finger on it. She's great, and loving, and so damn sexy... but every time I ask her about her family or her past, she diverts my attention."

"You mean she changes the subject?" Chase asked.

"Actually"—Lance hesitated, knowing his complaint sounded weird—"she jumps my bones."

"And that's a problem?" Reid asked in an incredulous tone.

Lance gave a sardonic laugh. "I know it sounds strange but—"

"But you want more?" Chase said.

Lance sighed. "I guess so." He stared into his beer, wondering if he was crazy. Last year he would have been thrilled to have this kind of relationship. Sometimes he sensed Sophie really cared for him, maybe even loved him, but then she'd pull away. "There must be something wrong with me. I never felt this way before."

Chase slapped him on the back. "I understand completely."

Lance jerked his head up and stared at his friend. "What do you mean?"

"I hate to tell you this," Chase said, "but you're in love, buddy."

Lance realized he held his beer bottle in a death grip. Was it possible—could he be in love with Sophie? And if he was, what was he going to do about it?

* * *

As Reid watched Lance leave the bar, he scouted out the women, searching for one who sparked his interest. All week long he'd had these crazy dreams about Lucy Lane.

Lucy Lane on top of him, doing wicked and delicious things to his body with her tongue. Then Lucy sliding over him, him pushing into Lucy's warm, wet body... Lucy crying out his name in the throes of a mind-blowing orgasm.

He had tried to ban the images from his mind, but they came to him unbidden at the most inopportune times of the day. Yesterday he'd had a flash of her sinking onto his sex, and he'd nearly fallen off the roof of the house. This morning he'd seen her long strawberry-blond hair draped over his stomach and watched her go down on him, and he'd been so rattled, he'd almost walked through a plate-glass window. And on the way to the bar, he'd had fantasies of her naked and writhing beneath him. When reality surfaced, he'd nearly hit a semi, so he'd swerved, overcompensated and nearly run off the bridge into the ocean. The thought of becoming shark food over a woman was too much....

"What's up with you, Reid?" Chase pulled cash from his wallet to pay the bar bill. "You're awfully quiet."

Reid shrugged. "Thinking about Lucy." Lucy having sex with him. Lucy chanting to the moon to hex him. Lucy destroying his sex life with other women. She was going to kill him....

Chase threw his head back and laughed. "What the hell, you fell for Sophie's sister, didn't you?"

"No," Reid barked. "Hell, no."

"Then what's the problem?"

"She does all this hocus-pocus shit with charms and spells. I think she put a damn curse on me."

"What kind of curse?" Chase asked.

Reid chewed the inside of his cheek. "A curse to make me think about her."

Chase held his belly as laughter shook him. "You mean you believe in that hocus-pocus stuff?"

"No," Reid growled. At least he didn't think so.

"Then why would you think she put a curse on you?"

"Why else would she be on my mind all the time? It's not as if I really like her or anything." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "But I've even been dreaming about her. In the daytime, doing wild things to me."

"That the reason you're not trying to pick up women today?" Lance leaned an elbow on the bar. "I thought you were off your marker."

Reid cocked his head in defiance. "I've been looking. But I haven't spotted anyone I wanted to flirt with yet."

"Right." Chase tossed some money on the table. "Take my advice: If she has you in knots like this, the only way you can get over her is to see her again."

"We... uh, didn't part on very good terms. That's another reason I think she might have cursed me." Although her other curse seemed to have backfired, because Lance and Sophie seemed to be getting along great.

He
was the one dreaming about Lucy doing wicked things to him, then waking up and having to live with the fact that it was never going to happen.

Then again, maybe Chase was right. Maybe he should take a little trip to Vegas and surprise her. He'd force her to remove whatever kind of spell she'd cast on him.

Then he'd be free of Lucy Lane forever.

* * *

Lucy was cursed.

Everything that could possibly go wrong this week had done so. Her plumbing at her apartment had gone on the fritz, so her toilet had overflowed, not only ruining the carpet but half her collection of designer shoes and two feather boas she used as part of her Diva costumes. She was out five hundred dollars for the plumbing repairs and had to alter one of her numbers for the night until she found the right boas to replace the others.

Then, on her way in to the Palace, her car had died on the freeway, and she'd been forced to hitchhike a ride with a nice little family from Pasadena who acted as if they'd just escaped a time warp from the seventies. Worse, the teenage son had tried to snitch her watch, while the grandma described her deceased husband's hernia, her false teeth clacking for miles.

Now she'd arrived at the Palace for the early-evening show and discovered that someone had used her jars of creams and makeup, a major no-no. They'd also forgotten to store them properly, so now her blue eyeshadow had turned black and her powder had hardened into a brick.

She slammed the makeup drawer shut and borrowed her friend's. Sassafras was a college student, and unfortunately used the cheapest brands because she was too busy paying her slug of a boyfriend's way out of jail and into rehab to pony up for the good hypoallergenic stuff.

And she needed the good stuff. A showgirl had to take care of her assets.

She'd scavenged all the charm and spell books she could find for answers, and had no idea why her spells had backfired, unless she was being punished for being selfish and not wanting Sophie to be with Lance.

Was she being selfish?

Should she have looked deeper to see what qualities Lance possessed that had attracted Sophie to him? Should she have forgotten her own needs to have her sister close by and accepted that Sophie was grown and gone, and that she was alone and she always would be? Panic seized her. She'd never liked being alone; Sophie had always been there...

For some odd reason, Reid's face materialized in her mind.

She banished it, certain she'd thought of him only because she'd been stewing about his brother and the two men were connected.

She did not want or need Reid Summers; she had her Sleepover, Inc., playthings to keep her satisfied anytime she had the urge... er, the need... er, the desire....

The real thing's even better.

Dag-nab it, his words haunted her like an incantation that hadn't worked but had been imprinted in her brain, because the words had been kind of pretty. Not that Reid was pretty, but he had been easy on the eyes, and he had great pecs and he had made her body hum with all kinds of decadent fantasies.

Lurching upward, she knocked her head on the mirror, caught her wingspan of red feathers in the doorway, and nearly choked herself when the door banged shut and her feathers got trapped between the hinges.

"What in the hell are you doing, Lucy?" Garrison, the stage manager, bellowed. "You're on in three."

The music that led off her first act of the night spilled through the speakers; the hundreds of Palace guests clapped in anticipation. The manager opened the door, freed her feathers, and shoved her forward. Lucy grappled for control, steadying herself as she adjusted to the thirty pounds of feathers and fifteen extra pounds of jewelry weighing down her arms.

Peter danced toward her, the shiny black outfit that hugged his body shimmering beneath the bright lights, and she glanced out to see Deseree wave from the front row. She'd meant to ask Peter what had happened with the talent scout and made a mental note to do so after the last number of the night.

But for now she was on. She only hoped that the curse didn't affect her onstage, turning her into such a klutz that she fell and ruined the dance.

Troubles or not, the show had to go on. For now, that was all that mattered.

Not Reid Summers or her crappy life, or the fact that her feet were aching in these spiked shoes, and that maybe, just maybe, Sophie had been right when she'd said that the excitement eventually dwindled, and that Lucy might not want to dance forever.

She held her arms high and strutted across the stage, pasting on her performer's face and diving into the music. But five minutes later, the show fell apart.

Sassafras, the girl who'd replaced Sophie, never showed, so Lucy had to do double duty trying to fill both their parts, leaping and twirling from spot to spot so quickly that she got dizzy and nearly fell off the stage. In between acts, the manager called her to the phone.

"It's Sassafras; she won't talk to anyone but you."

Lucy grabbed the handset. "Hey, honey, what's wrong?"

A wail greeted her. "You won't believe this, but I was helping Dicky into rehab tonight, and I fell and bruised my tailbone. The doctor says I can't dance the rest of the weekend." Another wail screeched over the line, this one louder and more miserable. "I'm sorry, Lucy; I know Garrison's going to fire me, but I can barely walk. I have to sit on a plastic doughnut; it's just so awful. I don't know what to do about work...."

Lucy struggled for a way to help save Sassafras's job. After all, her friend's accident was probably a result of the curse on Lucy. Now she was bringing bad luck to everybody around her.

They had to find her friend a replacement. But all of the other girls had their own parts, and no one else knew the routine but Sassafras and... Sophie.

No, she couldn't phone her sister and ask her to fill in, could she?

"Please, Lucy, I can't lose this job. I need the money; I just found out I'm pregnant...." She broke into another wail, and Lucy's heart tightened. "Dicky's promised to stay in rehab for the baby's sake, and my parents won't let me come home, and I want to finish college...." Her blabbering trailed off into a hysterical sob.

"Don't worry, Sassy, I'll think of something. Now go home, put your feet up, ice your tushy or whatever the doctor said to do to it, and rest." She promised her she'd check on her later, then hung up and stared at the phone. Sophie had always taken care of her friends on the set, had always been the caretaker, and Sassafras had moved in with them when Sophie was still in town. She'd also taken Sophie's place at the last minute when Sophie decided to leave the act, so Sophie actually owed her.