Wedding Favors (26 page)

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Authors: Sheri Whitefeather

BOOK: Wedding Favors
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She frowned at his reaction. “It’s not creepy, is it? Or haunted or something?”
“The attic? No. There’s just a bunch of junk up there. Typical stuff.”
None of this seemed typical to her. When James unlocked her door, she braced herself for the intimacy of being in a bedroom with him.
They stepped inside, and he showed her around.
The room was decorated with antiques, and the bathroom offered modern conveniences with antique-style fixtures. There was a balcony, too, with a lovely view.
But it was the bed that attracted her attention. She kept glancing at it, wondering if she would dream there tonight and wishing that she wouldn’t.
She looked up at him. “When I was little, my parents used to say that if you wished hard enough, you could make anything happen.” Of course, in her case, she was trying to make something
un
-happen. “Do you think that’s true?”
“I believe in magic, voodoo, and whatnot. But I suppose it’s in my blood.” He made a serious expression. “If there’s a wish you need fulfilled, you can visit Marie Laveau’s tomb. She’s considered the queen of voodoo, and they say that you can call upon her spirit to grant your wish. I can give you the spell. Lots of tourists do it.”
Kendra made a face. She didn’t want to create hocus-pocus at a gravesite, no matter how commercialized it was. “How about something simpler, like a good old-fashioned wishing well?”
“You could toss a coin into the
Jaillissement
de Plaisir fountain.” He cleared his throat. “But then your wish will probably turn sexual.”
Kendra blinked. Had she heard him right? “I’m sorry. What?”
“The fountain was favored by Marie Laveau’s daughter. She was a voodoo practitioner in the eighteen hundreds, too. They say that she used to cast erotic spells there. So now if you wish upon it, it’s supposed to grant sexual fulfillment.
Jaillissement de Plaisir
means Spurt of Pleasure.”
She went silent. Her wish was already sexual, wasn’t it? If her dreams went away, she would stop having kinky fantasies, and her sex drive would return to normal. To her, that would be fulfillment.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said.
She met his gaze, and his dark eyes nearly penetrated her soul. He’d mistaken her silence for shyness.
Kendra took a step back and bumped into the bed. Bad move. Bad girl. Bad everything. “I’m not embarrassed.”
“That’s good.” He cleared his throat again. “If there’s anything you need, just let me know.”
She released a shaky breath. “I will.”
He gave her the key to her room, along with the combination to a lockbox at the front door, which would give her access to the inn after hours.
She tried for a casual tone and failed miserably. “Thank you, James.”
He seemed just as rattled. “It’s my pleasure.”
There went that word again. Only this time, she associated it with Spurt of Pleasure. And, heaven forbid, she could totally imagine him spurting into her.
When he turned to leave, she caught his attention.
“Where is it?” she asked, desperate to make a wish.
He didn’t stop to question what “it” was. He quickly responded, “In the French Quarter.” He reached for a pen and paper on the nightstand and wrote the directions for her. “You can take the St. Charles Avenue streetcar to get there.”
He handed her the paper, and their fingers brushed in the process. Every cell in her body reacted, sending little shock waves straight to the V between her thighs.
Luckily, he ended the madness, saying good-bye and making his retreat.
After he left the room, she sat on the edge of the bed, gearing up for the fountain.
 
 
Damn,
James thought. Damn. He knew better than to get hot for a guest. It was wrong; it was unprofessional; it was his worst nightmare.
Could Kendra look any more innocent? Could she drive him any crazier? Such soft skin and pretty blonde hair, such sparkling blue eyes. So different from the darkness twisting and turning inside him.
Worse yet was her interest in the fountain. He had no idea what her wish entailed, but he sure as hell could make a few of his own. He wouldn’t, though. His libido was already bursting at the seams.
He’d told Kendra that he had magic in his blood. But the only thing he could feel right now were hard, hammering jolts of testosterone.
How was he going to survive the next two weeks? How was he going to sleep under the same roof with her? He should have built a cottage out back. He should have separated himself from his guests.
For all the good that did now. Besides, he’d chosen to live in the mansion so he could be near the attic.
His obsession. His sin.
He glanced at the stairwell, cursing its winding path. He wanted so badly to go up there and release the tension.
But he knew it wouldn’t cure what ailed him. His lotion-slicked hand wasn’t going to take the place of a woman. Nor would it quell the salacious things he hungered to do to her.
Maintaining what was left of his sanity, he expelled the air in his pent-up lungs and went downstairs to immerse himself in the upcoming wedding preparations.
But before he headed to his office, he decided to check in with Claire. She was his girl Friday, and her husband, Leon, was the chef who made taste buds come alive at the inn.
James entered the foyer, and Claire glanced up from her desk, where she was typing away at her laptop.
“Hey,” she said in her usual upbeat way. “I just e-mailed you the rehearsal dinner schedule.”
“Thanks. Will you send over a copy of the menu, too?”
“No problem.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “So, what do you think of Kendra? If I’m not mistaken, I detected some chemistry between you two.”
Please, Lord. The last thing he needed was a happily married matchmaker watching his every move. “She’s a guest, Claire.”
“Yes, but she’s also an attractive young woman who was checking you out. And you”—she wagged a finger at him—“were trying way too hard not to look back.”
He scoffed at her observation. “I was not.”
“You were, too, and I’ll bet you could have a nice little affair with her if you quit being such a stick-in-the-mud and enjoyed yourself once in a while.”
A nice little affair? If he wasn’t so stressed, he would have laughed. “I don’t do flings, and I certainly don’t do them with guests.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “You don’t do anything, James. When’s the last time you had a girlfriend?”
“I’m too busy for a relationship.”
“You know what they say about all work and no play.”
Yeah, and if she knew the type of play that consumed him, she would probably fall over and die. “It wouldn’t be proper to pursue her.”
Claire rolled her eyes again, and he turned away, hoping his stick-in-the-mud manner would get him off the hook.
Anxious to take refuge in his office, he exited the foyer. But he get didn’t far.
Proper be damned.
Kendra was descending the stairs, and he stopped to look up at her, even though he should’ve kept right on going.
She wore the same slightly wrinkled summer dress, and the hem fluttered as she moved. She was the kind of apparition a man hoped to see at the foot of his bed.
As she reached the bottom step, he wondered what type of bra and panties she was wearing. Practical, delicate, cotton, lace ... ?
He imagined stripping her where she stood and taking a long, lustful look at her lingerie.
Then what would he do? Sweep her into his protective arms and carry her to the gates of hell?
As uncomfortable as ever in his presence, she stared at him, and he grappled for something appropriate to say.
“Are you on your way to the streetcar?” he asked.
“Yes. To explore the Quarter.”
He avoided direct mention of the fountain, and so did she. But it lingered between them, as thick as steam from a swamp.
“Then you’d better go,” he said.
His cock was pressing painfully against his fly, and her nipples had become visible beneath whatever sweet little bra she was wearing.
With a whispered good-bye, she flitted past him, like a butterfly about to be pinned to a wheel.
His wheel, he thought. Which was exactly where he longed for her to be.
Chapter 2
The
fountain was surrounded by a passionately overgrown garden, and Kendra imagined it as it was in the nineteenth century when Marie Laveau’s daughter had cast her erotic spells.
She moved closer. The large stone pool brimmed with coin-speckled water, and around its circular base was the
Jaillissement de Plaisir
name, along with another French inscription.
But she suspected that the centerpiece, with its three topless muses, was what contained the most magic.
Each delicate female had been created from the same image, and the flowing fabric carved around their hips gave them a Romanesque quality.
Regardless of the fountain’s origin, the alluring trio looked like goddesses, with water trickling from the basin above them.
Kendra removed her wallet from her shoulder bag, mulling over what type of coin to use. Would it make a difference? Probably not, considering the pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters that had already been tossed.
She settled on a nickel from the year she was born. That seemed like a good omen, or so she hoped. Clearly, she was out of her element and probably out of her mind, too.
Still, she wanted to believe that the fountain had the power to help her.
She clutched the nickel until it warmed in her hand, then wished for her dreams to stop and tossed the coin. It pinged off one of the muses and plunked into the pool.
Rather than turn and walk away, she remained at the fountain, inhaling the garden-scented air.
The moment itself seemed magical, and she was certain that her dreams would stop and she would find satisfaction in fantasies that didn’t involve restraints.
But she was wrong.
Late that night, she dreamed the same chilling dream, only it was even more vivid, more real. She saw a wider view of the dungeon, where lanterns flickered, and an X-shaped cross, designed for human bondage, was hinged to the wall.
She awakened the next morning feeling insanely sexual. With her nightgown sticking to her skin, she sat up and pushed the covers away, cursing the fountain.
Had it backfired? All she could think about was being strapped to the cross while it turned in an upside down motion.
Naked and spinning.
But who was turning the strange device? Who was her lover? James popped into her mind, and her flesh burned from the wicked want of him.
She squeezed her thighs together to keep from touching herself. No way was she going to strum her clit and fantasize about the innkeeper. She was already a nervous wreck around him.
Yes, but he wouldn’t know that she was making her fingers sticky for him, and it would feel so good, so naughty.
She squeezed harder, warning herself to behave.
Before she gave in, she climbed out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, where a cold, cold shower awaited.
 
 
Kendra
went downstairs with a raging appetite. Luckily she hadn’t missed the two-hour breakfast window, although she was at the tail end of it.
As she entered the dining room, several other guests were leaving. They passed her with chipper hellos, and she returned their friendly greetings.
So far, so good. No sign of James. She was hoping that she didn’t run into him.
She headed for the buffet table and reached for a plate, a napkin, and silverware. A selection of breads, sweet muffins, eggs, and fresh fruit was available, along with a variety of cereals. She noticed bread pudding, too.
Kendra put a hodgepodge of food on her plate, including a generous helping of the pudding.
She turned around and sucked in her breath. The object of her lust had just walked into the room.
As always, their gazes met and held.
He spoke first. “Morning, Kendra.”
“Hi.” She clutched her plate a little tighter and glanced at the big, empty dining table.
He followed her line of sight. “You can eat on the veranda if you prefer.”
“Oh, that sounds nice. Thank you.” She could have left it at that, but she added, “Would you like to join me?”
Plain and simple, she couldn’t handle tiptoeing around their attraction anymore. At least this way, they could try to have a casual conversation.
He seemed surprised by the offer, but he said, “Sure. You go ahead and choose a table, and I’ll get you something to drink.” He indicated the beverages at the buffet. “Coffee, tea, or orange juice?”
“Juice, please.” The door to the veranda was already open, where a grouping of wrought-iron tables topped with fresh-cut flowers made a picturesque presentation.

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