Lindsey dropped her negligee on the bed, shut off the tub faucet, and headed
out to the second floor hallway.
Her stocking feet left footprints in the thick, cream colored carpet, and
silence buffeted her passage. The building logs were solid and well chinked. Though
there were nearly forty people in the lodge, she might have been completely alone.
"Camellia?" she called softly, rapping on the bedroom door. "Camellia?"
"She won't hear you."
Lindsey jumped at the sound of RJ's voice.
"Once she takes her hearing aids out, she's deaf as a door-post."
"Don't sneak up on me like that." Lindsey turned to confront him.
Her loose hair tickled her cheek as she moved, and she brushed it behind her ear.
"I didn't sneak." Dressed in faded jeans and a black tee-shirt, he
was less than two feet away. His gaze had followed the movement of her hand. Now
it lingered on the mass of dark curls brushing her neck.
"Then what are you doing?" She wished he wouldn't stare at her so
intently. Her loose hair and stocking feet put her at a distinct disadvantage.
"I'm going to bed," he drawled. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to talk some sense into your aunt." She turned to knock
again. Maybe Camellia was just in the bathroom.
A muffled snore rumbled through the closed door.
"Not tonight you aren't." RJ shifted a bit closer.
Darn. She should have come over here earlier. She tipped her head to glare
up at RJ, still half convinced he'd put his aunt up to this. Her expression faltered
when their height difference registered. When had he grown so tall?
"This is absurd," she said, trying to unobtrusively retreat from
his solid form.
"You think it's absurd that an old lady is sleeping at..." RJ raised
his wrist to look at his watch. "Midnight?" His eyebrows shot upward.
Lindsey didn't answer. Trading quips with RJ was risky at the best of times.
She wasn't about to try it at midnight in her stocking feet.
His callused hand returned to his side, and her gaze involuntarily followed.
Some wayward part of her brain began speculating on its strength and texture.
RJ's hand was so different from Bobby's.
"Why can't you just leave me alone?" She dragged her gaze back to
his face. She was not interested in RJ's hand.
He leaned in, pointing to the door next to hers, voice dropping to a husky
whisper. "Because you're between me and my bed."
The timbre of his voice made the words evocative, and she swore she felt his
body heat swirl out in the cool hallway. The temperature of her skin took a sudden
spike. "I'm not the least bit interested in where your bed is."
"Want to know where Bobby's is?"
"No!"
"Saving yourself for the wedding night?" His chuckle was knowing,
reminding her that while he might be insufferable, he was also quite possibly
the only other person who realized Camellia's wedding prediction for Lindsey and
Bobby was ridiculous.
"Keep this up and you won't live 'till the wedding night," she countered.
"Ah," RJ shifted to lean indolently against the log wall. He crossed
his arms. The posture made his biceps stand out in relief. "So you admit
there is going to be a wedding night."
"I most certainly do not." Her voice was tart as an early apple.
"Bobby not your type?"
She shook her head, voice low and definite. "Not in this lifetime."
"So where do you suppose Aunt Camellia got her inspiration?" He tilted
his head reproachfully, as if Lindsey was somehow responsible for Camellia's outrageous
prediction.
"I don't know, RJ." Lindsey leaned against the wall on the other
side of Camellia's door, crossing her arms defiantly, matching his posture. "Where
do you suppose she got her inspiration?"
She watched him carefully, waiting for the sign that he was the one who had
put Camellia up to this.
"New age channeling?" he suggested. "Astrological signs? Dreams?"
"What about great-nephews?" Lindsey refused to respond to the impish
grin that had carried him so easily through life.
"Bobby?" he asked, face a picture of innocence.
"You, RJ."
"What?" he looked genuinely confused.
"Don't tell me you don't think this is the greatest prank of the decade.
Set Skinny Linny up and watch her squirm."
RJ shook his head. "Much as I'd like to, I can't take credit for it."
She scoffed.
"Honest." He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I
wish I could." His gaze traveled the length of her body once again. "Though
the Skinny Linny I remember sure has changed."
"RJ, stop." His silly ogling game was having a ridiculous effect
on her body.
"Sorry." His gaze returned to her face, all traces of cockiness gone.
"You think Camellia actually believes this stuff?" she asked.
"I'm sure she does," said RJ.
"What about the rest of them? What about you?"
He paused. And for a second there, he actually looked like he was having a
reflective thought. "She sure nailed the Bochesky Revolution. I never did
figure that one out."
"The Bochesky Revolution?" Lindsey frowned.
He got a faraway look in his eyes. "Maybe if this clairvoyance gig doesn't
work out she can get a job with the CIA."
"What are you talking about?" Was he setting her up for another joke?
RJ didn't look like he was joking. But when had that ever meant anything?
"Camellia predicted the revolution weeks before CNN. And I have to tell
you, that one made even cynical me sit up and take notice."
"You believe she can tell the future?" Lindsey choked out a disbelieving
laugh. Just how gullible did he think she was?
He shrugged his broad shoulders. The ones Lindsey wasn't noticing.
"Let's just say I hope she never predicts me ditching my plane."
"Would that scare you?"
"Out of my mind."
Lindsey bit her lower lip. "Would you play the stock market based on her
say-so?"
"In a New York minute."
"You're yanking my chain, aren't you?"
"Believe what you want. Her dividends speak for themselves."
Lindsey drew in a breath. If even RJ wasn't sure about Camellia, everyone else
must be picking out china patterns by now. A sinking feeling gripped her stomach,
and she groaned.
"You okay?" he asked, looking for all the world like he truly cared.
"Do you think she would..." Lindsey cleared her throat as wonder
warred with curiosity. RJ was the last person she should be looking to for answers.
She pressed her lips together.
"What?" he asked, leaning in a bit closer.
Okay. Pride be darned. He was here, and he sure seemed to know a lot more than
she did.
"I mean..." Lindsey continued. "Just how bad is this likely
to get for me before it blows over?"
"Depends," he replied, mouth curving into a small grin.
Why, oh why was she doing this to herself? This was RJ for goodness sake. That
concerned expression was a fleeting illusion. How many times had he led her down
the garden path to humiliation by trailing tantalizing bits of information like
bread crumbs?
Despite herself, she gritted her teeth and took the bait. "On what?"
"On how you feel about baby-name books."
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