He disappeared through the glass doors with her suitcase.
She was examining the fountain, trying to find the source of the vibe, when Luke came around the corner of the inn and walked toward her. He had his duffel in one hand and a six-pack of bottled water in the other.
She knew the six-pack was from the twenty-four-bottle case that had been stowed in the cargo bay of the SUV when they picked up the vehicle at the airport. There had been other items inside, too, including a carton of protein bars. She had tried not to think about the possibility of having to camp out in the desert.
“What’s going on?” Luke said when he reached her. “Why aren’t you inside?” He frowned. “What the hell?”
“Interesting, isn’t it?” she said quietly.
“Feels like the first sip of a good whiskey. But without the whiskey.”
“I was thinking champagne. It’s not the first time I’ve gotten a hit off a work of art. It happens. Artists infuse energy into their creations, consciously or unconsciously. But the vibe is usually more complex. Nuanced. That’s why no two people react the same way to the object.”
“This is like standing in front of what passes for modern art while an expert tells you that it’s not really a cartoon. There’s a disconnect.”
“You’re not a fan of modern art, are you?”
“No, but that’s not the problem here,” Luke said. “Someonemanaged to embed a hypnotic suggestion into this fountain. You can almost hear a soothing voice telling you that you are in your happy place. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to see here. That should be damn near impossible. Looks like Deke sent us to the right address. Time for Mr. and Ms. Ainsley to check in.”
Eighteen
“The honeymoon suite?” Sophy asked,her voice rising in disbelief. “It just happens to be the only room left? Seriously?”
Luke glanced at her and saw that she had unclipped Bruce’s leash and was now staring at the enormous bed that dominated the room. Four posts secured a canopy hung with gossamer curtains. White satin pillows were stacked all the way up the headboard. The white quilt and the satin sheets were partially folded back in an inviting manner.
“Not my fault,” he said, annoyed with himself for feeling defensive. “You heard what the clerk at the front desk said. This is the room the Ainsleys booked and there’s no way to switch because the inn is full.”
He set the duffel on a luggage stand and put the six-pack of water on the table, giving himself a moment to get a handle on Sophy’s reaction to the suite.
Her shock was real but he told himself it was over-the-top. Okay, the frilly room with its white-on-white decor and bathequipped with a whirlpool tub and two-person shower was a bit much but it wasn’t a catastrophe. Was it?
“I know we’re stuck with it,” Sophy grumbled. “But this is—”
“What?”
“I don’t know.” She waved one hand. “Awkward. Or something.”
“We’re adults,” he said. “I think we can deal with this situation. That bed is the size of a small island. If you’re worried that I’ll be driven mad with lust we can use some of the pillows to form a barrier between us.”
“You don’t understand.”
He turned to confront her. “Is it because I’m a Wells? Are you afraid I’ll assault you? Does your distrust of my family run that deep?”
Her expression tightened with resolve. She angled her chin. “No, of course not. I’m overreacting. I’m not afraid of you. You’re right. A line of pillows down the middle of the bed will work just fine.” She checked the time. “We need to get dressed. The reception starts in an hour. After that comes the gallery tour. Everyone will probably be wearing black. Lucky for you, your entire wardrobe seems to be black.”
Luke watched her hang the long, many-pocketed trench coat in the closet.
“Sophy—” he said. And stopped because he did not know how to move forward.
When she turned around there was a steely sheen in her eyes. “No, I’m not afraid of you. But maybe you should be afraid of me.”
He blinked a couple of times and then smiled. “Are you worried that you’ll be tempted to ravish me?”
“I’m not joking, Wells. It’s best if I sleep alone. Aunt Bea warned me early on that people with my talent don’t usually do well sharing a bed. My psychic ability is directly linked to mydreamlight. When I’m awake it’s under control. But when I go into a trance or fall asleep and dream, I can’t predict the effects of my aura on others. You seem to have some immunity from my talent but we don’t know if that extends to sleeping in close quarters.”
Relief splashed through him. “So that’s what all the fuss over the bed is about. You think I’ll panic if you have a bad dream. Don’t worry, I can handle your aura even in my sleep.”
“What makes you so sure of that?”
