forbade me from sleeping with Lexie.”
Lexie suddenly realized that Muriel was the only family
member absent. “Where is your aunt?” she asked.
“Asleep, I assume,” Ben said. “She sleeps with earplugs, and
her room’s at the far end of the hallway.” He raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you
stay in here with me? Aunt Muriel didn’t say a thing about us sharing someone
else’s room.”
“I don’t think that would be appropriate,” Lexie said, since
“no way in hell” definitely wouldn’t be appropriate in front of this audience.
“You’re probably right,” Ben said. “Aunt Muriel’s already
overwhelmed saying rosaries for Grandfather’s sins without having to fit in
more for us.” He stepped up to Lexie. “How about a kiss in case I don’t survive
the night?”
He rested his hands on Lexie’s shoulders. His bare chest and
masculine scent made her pulse jump. His lips brushed over hers, sending a bolt
of liquid heat swirling through her stomach and lower.
She frowned.
Ben chuckled, removing his hand. “Don’t look so worried. I
promise I’ll survive.”
She was obviously exhausted, Lexie thought as she walked
back to her room. She certainly wasn’t attracted to Ben—he wasn’t at all her
type, and she was mature enough that her brain controlled her hormones. Her
brain seemed to have taken tonight off, but that had to be due to fatigue,
stress, and her recent celibacy. She’d have reacted to any halfway attractive,
half-dressed male the same way. After a good night’s sleep, she’d be back to
viewing Ben as nothing but the necessary evil he was.
And with any luck, she’d soon be on her way back to
Philadelphia. Because Dylan’s dream could very well have been triggered by a
guilty conscience, especially since he’d dreamed that Max had confronted him
about what he’d done, which could have been to commit murder. That put Dylan at
the top of the suspect list.
# # #
“What do you mean, you won’t be able to attend the summer
gala? Everyone who’s anyone will be there.” Elizabeth Barrington sounded as
scandalized as if her daughter had just admitted she was staying at Max
Windsor’s mansion and investigating his possible murder while pretending to be
Lexie, the cocktail waitress girlfriend of an auto mechanic.
Catherine sank down on the bed. She’d been on her way to the
shower when her cell phone had rung. She’d wanted to ignore it, but she
couldn’t blow off her mother.
She should have gone with her gut. “I told you I’m out of
town working, Mother.”
“Where are you?”
“Chicago.” Catherine wasn’t about to say she was in Minnesota,
since her mother would realize her work was related to Max. She’d listened to
her mother badmouth him enough when he was alive.
“Do your best to come home by the weekend. I told Steven
Wilmington that I was sure you’d be there.” Elizabeth sniffed. “I assume he
didn’t dare ask you to accompany him after how rudely you turned him down
before.”
“I wasn’t rude, Mother. I told Steven I needed more time
before I’d be ready to date again, and he understood. My divorce was just final
a few months ago.” Not that she’d have dated Steven if she’d been divorced for
decades. In his mid-thirties, he was already the definition of a stuffed shirt.
“Don’t remind me.” Her mother’s voice sounded pained, as if
someone had hammered a nail through it. “The sooner you remarry, the sooner
people will forget you were ever divorced. Especially since Neil’s already
remarried. You have no idea how hard it is for me to have a daughter who’s
divorced. No one in my family has ever been divorced.”
Catherine rolled her eyes. It
hasn’t been a piece of cake for me either. “I can
imagine, Mother.”
“Steven’s from a very good family.”
“Neil was from a good family,” Catherine couldn’t resist
pointing out.
“You were too involved in your career to be a proper wife to
someone like him, a surgeon who
Lexie suddenly realized that Muriel was the only family
member absent. “Where is your aunt?” she asked.
“Asleep, I assume,” Ben said. “She sleeps with earplugs, and
her room’s at the far end of the hallway.” He raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you
stay in here with me? Aunt Muriel didn’t say a thing about us sharing someone
else’s room.”
“I don’t think that would be appropriate,” Lexie said, since
“no way in hell” definitely wouldn’t be appropriate in front of this audience.
“You’re probably right,” Ben said. “Aunt Muriel’s already
overwhelmed saying rosaries for Grandfather’s sins without having to fit in
more for us.” He stepped up to Lexie. “How about a kiss in case I don’t survive
the night?”
He rested his hands on Lexie’s shoulders. His bare chest and
masculine scent made her pulse jump. His lips brushed over hers, sending a bolt
of liquid heat swirling through her stomach and lower.
She frowned.
Ben chuckled, removing his hand. “Don’t look so worried. I
promise I’ll survive.”
She was obviously exhausted, Lexie thought as she walked
back to her room. She certainly wasn’t attracted to Ben—he wasn’t at all her
type, and she was mature enough that her brain controlled her hormones. Her
brain seemed to have taken tonight off, but that had to be due to fatigue,
stress, and her recent celibacy. She’d have reacted to any halfway attractive,
half-dressed male the same way. After a good night’s sleep, she’d be back to
viewing Ben as nothing but the necessary evil he was.
And with any luck, she’d soon be on her way back to
Philadelphia. Because Dylan’s dream could very well have been triggered by a
guilty conscience, especially since he’d dreamed that Max had confronted him
about what he’d done, which could have been to commit murder. That put Dylan at
the top of the suspect list.
# # #
“What do you mean, you won’t be able to attend the summer
gala? Everyone who’s anyone will be there.” Elizabeth Barrington sounded as
scandalized as if her daughter had just admitted she was staying at Max
Windsor’s mansion and investigating his possible murder while pretending to be
Lexie, the cocktail waitress girlfriend of an auto mechanic.
Catherine sank down on the bed. She’d been on her way to the
shower when her cell phone had rung. She’d wanted to ignore it, but she
couldn’t blow off her mother.
She should have gone with her gut. “I told you I’m out of
town working, Mother.”
“Where are you?”
“Chicago.” Catherine wasn’t about to say she was in Minnesota,
since her mother would realize her work was related to Max. She’d listened to
her mother badmouth him enough when he was alive.
“Do your best to come home by the weekend. I told Steven
Wilmington that I was sure you’d be there.” Elizabeth sniffed. “I assume he
didn’t dare ask you to accompany him after how rudely you turned him down
before.”
“I wasn’t rude, Mother. I told Steven I needed more time
before I’d be ready to date again, and he understood. My divorce was just final
a few months ago.” Not that she’d have dated Steven if she’d been divorced for
decades. In his mid-thirties, he was already the definition of a stuffed shirt.
“Don’t remind me.” Her mother’s voice sounded pained, as if
someone had hammered a nail through it. “The sooner you remarry, the sooner
people will forget you were ever divorced. Especially since Neil’s already
remarried. You have no idea how hard it is for me to have a daughter who’s
divorced. No one in my family has ever been divorced.”
Catherine rolled her eyes. It
hasn’t been a piece of cake for me either. “I can
imagine, Mother.”
“Steven’s from a very good family.”
“Neil was from a good family,” Catherine couldn’t resist
pointing out.
“You were too involved in your career to be a proper wife to
someone like him, a surgeon who
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