This was not how he meant to start their trip.
…
Lucy was covered in flakes of mud, dried road water, and William’s tuxedo jacket when they pulled into the parking lot at Twin Lakes. Her suitcase was a mushy pile of laundry, so she had nothing else to change into.
The Twin Lakes lodge appeared to sprout out of the side of the mountain. Nestled among pine trees and stunning blue reservoirs, primitive log cabins surrounded the out-of-place hotel. A couple of fishermen cast their lines as they stood perched along the banks of the lake. In the parking lot, a few hikers headed toward a trailhead.
William opened her door and helped her down to the dirt parking lot. His slacks also had mud smeared on them, his shirt was wrinkled, and his hair was a mess. Rolling around in the dirt and sweating while changing a tire suited him. She’d never seen him in anything but put together. Normally he looked good, but messy suited him fine.
He had the disheveled James Bond thing downpat.The dust of stubble on his face and the bow tie tossed over his shoulder bumped his hotness factor up a solid ten degrees. And he did not need that raise.
Lucy handed him his jacket and smoothed her skirt. “This place is amazing.”
He slipped on the suit coat in one smooth movement. “Mrs. Monroe?” He held his hand to her.
“Monroe?” Her belly flipped when his fingers gripped hers.
“We’re using Parker’s last name to check-in.”
Lucy and Will Monroe.
“Mrs. Monroe,” she said under her breath as they walked across the lot to the lodge entrance. “Got it.”
“Ever done undercover reporting before?” William asked, releasing her hand.
She shook her head.
No. She’d always been behind the scenes in the newsroom. The handful of times she’d managed to get on-air her stories were generally straightforward. She showed up with a cameraman, a script, and her reporter armor—a smart suit with sensible pumps and perfect makeup. Her weapon of choice? A handheld microphone, which she used as a tool of intimidation by pushing it closer when someone got too aggressive or started to twist the truth.
This undercover wedding assignment was new territory.
They made it a few steps before he slipped on a pair of black-rimmed glasses. “Smile.” He pointed to one side of the rims. “Camera.”
He extended a hand to her.
She took it.
His hold kept them tethered together as they moved toward the two massive doors at the lodge’s entrance. With their fingers tangled, an unfamiliar calmness settled around her.
An inlaid wooden image of an elk in a meadow crossed the double doors of the entryway. He opened the lobby door for her, still not releasing her fingers. The rustic elegance of the reception area screamed luxury. Huge, polished log beams crossed high above on the ceiling. A bank of clear glass windows filled the entire side of the room, giving an impressive view of the forest behind. An elk-horn chandelier hung above a sitting area and fireplace.
How easy it would be to imagine herself cuddled up right there in front of a raging fire stroking hands with someone special. Except it was summer, so there wouldn’t be any fires. And she was with William, so stroking was off-limits. Also, she was covered in dried sludge. There was also that.
The rough pad of his thumb brushed her knuckles as she stepped inside.
Or not.
She did her best to ignore his touch, but her body had other ideas.
She couldn’t allow any intimacy between them. The pretend honeymoon gig was a front, nothing more. He spelled trouble. A link to a past better forgotten, and he had no place in her future.
He released her hand, and a ridiculous emptiness settled through her, but she had a part to play—doting new wife and all that entailed. She fidgeted with a cup of pens on the front desk while he checked them into the honeymoon suite.
A small part of her hoped they’d lost the Monroe reservation, as had happened to so many other couples. The charade would end, and they’d head back to Confluence.
“Mr. Monroe, I hope you’ll have a wonderful stay with us.” The front desk hostess’s gaze ran the length of him. Her black blazer matched her dark hair, and she had an exotic vibe about her that would bring most men to their knees.
“I’m sure we will,” he replied, apparently oblivious to being checked-out while being checked-in. “Is there a laundry service available?”
