Cade? And a prude? A ‘prick tease’? Well, let’s just see about that, why don’t we?” With every step she took, she jerked open her silk blouse a bit more, popping off the mother-of-pearl buttons like microwave popcorn. “Come on, big boy.” She yanked the blouse off her shoulders and reached for the zipper of her designer slacks. “You want a piece of me? Let’s give it a go, Romeo….”
She never saw it coming. Out of nowhere, a long, hard protrusion sprang up and hit her in the jaw, knocking her into a wall. Metal clanged around her. Something damp and limp folded over her face. The lights went out, plunging her into darkness, and pain shot through her body.
It took a moment—a long, agonizing moment of stunned bewilderment—before her eyes adjusted to the dark, her senses fully returned and she recognized where she was.
In the broom closet. More specifically, on the cold tile floor of the broom closet, with a broom handle lying across her throat, a mop hanging in her face, her bare breasts jutting free of her torn pajama top and one bare foot wedged painfully in a metal bucket.
And though she hadn’t seen him in nine years and hoped to never see him again, it was all Cade Hunter’s fault.
STRESS. Simple stress. That’s what had caused her nighttime wandering, Brynn had deduced by the next morning. Football season was beginning—her busiest time of year, with alumni flocking back to cheer on the Georgia Bulldogs. Fun, but hectic for local inns, especially for the Three Sisters Bed & Breakfast Inn, a former sorority house that she and two of her sorority sisters had bought and refurbished. Turning a decent profit during football season could make the difference between success and failure. And unlike the previous three years, they were not booked to capacity for the first game. The state of the economy had clearly taken its toll. Brynn had good reason to be stressed.
And it wasn’t much of a mystery why Cade Hunter starred in the dream, either. Trish Howell Hightower, her gorgeous blond business partner, had mentioned running into him yesterday at a local café. He was in town on business, it seemed. The thought of having Cade Hunter anywhere nearby was enough to give Brynn nightmares. Nine years ago, he’d broken her heart and, as the saying went, “stomped that sucker flat.”
She’d gotten over it, of course. She didn’t care in the least about Cade Hunter anymore. But unless he’d changed greatly, he was a menace to any vulnerable woman who caught his eye. Brynn hated to think of the emotional carnage he could wreak upon their small town. Or, God forbid, on Trish. Newly divorced and on the rebound, she’d be ripe for the picking.
“What’s wrong, Brynn? Don’t tell me you’re siding with Trish on the barbecue sauce issue!” Lexi Dupree’s anxious question brought Brynn back to the present. They were sitting in wicker rockers on the columned front porch of the antebellum mansion, taking full advantage of the mild August morning, lounging with virgin Bloody Marys—it was too early for mint juleps—and discussing the food they would serve during the tailgating parties this weekend.
“Barbecue sauce?” Brynn repeated, struggling to comprehend what Lexi had been saying.
“I thought you loved my barbecue sauce. Guests rave about it. Just because some gourmet guru gave Trish a new recipe doesn’t mean we have to stop using mine.”
“Oh…right. I agree. We won’t make any changes without a taste test.”
“A taste test!” Lexi crossed her pale, rounded arms and frowned. “I thought I was in charge of the food…and I like the sauce we’ve been using. Why should I change it for Trish? She already messed around with the breakfast buffet, the evening dessert and my weekend schedule. She’s supposed to be a silent partner, remember? Silent.”
“Yes, but she did put up most of the money. She owns fifty-one percent. We can’t ignore her suggestions.”
“She put up most of the cash, but you and I invested pretty heavily, too—with the agreement that you’d manage the inn and I’d take care of the food and activities. Trish shouldn’t be interfering.”
Brynn sensed that Lexi’s annoyance with Trish was rising to a dangerous level. And she understood why. Trish had a tendency to dominate. They probably should have known when she offered to help finance their venture that she wouldn’t be able to stay hands-off forever. Now that she’d gotten involved in the day-to-day running of the inn, it was only a matter of time before she drove them both whacko. Lexi seemed near the breaking point already, and Trish had only moved in two weeks ago. Brynn hated conflict between her friends. Or anywhere, for that matter.
“I’ll talk to her,” she promised, not looking forward to the task. It wasn’t the first time she’d be negotiating peace between her business partners. Although the three of them had been friends since their sorority-house days, business concerns had put a strain on their sisterhood. “But, Lex, try to be patient with Trish. She does have good ideas, and she knows what’s popular in society circles. If we plan to cater to sorority alumni, we need to know that. Besides, she’s going through a hard time, trying to adjust to the single lifestyle and map out a new route for her life.”
“Yeah, well, I’d be happy to tell her which route to take,” Lexi mumbled, though the sulky expression in her large dark eyes was softened somewhat. With her hair bleached platinum and cropped in spiky wisps around her cute, plump face, she looked like a baby doll whose tresses had been shorn by some exuberant little girl. The multitude of silver hoops and studs lining her ears, the guitar tattooed on her shoulder and the skimpy half-T she wore showed her for the hip, sexy musician she really was—a persona that had fully emerged only in the last couple of years.
Trish, a classical purist in both music and fashion, disapproved of Lexi’s tattoo and platinum bleach job. If Lex had tried either of those innovations during their sorority days, she would have caught hell; Trish had been the queen bee at the sorority house, too.
Brynn, on the other hand, thought the changes in Lexi were refreshing. The image fit Lexi’s character perfectly. In a way, Brynn envied her for her metamorphosis. Back in college, she and Lexi had been the quiet brunettes in a sorority full of vivacious blondes and redheads. Brynn had always suspected that she and Lex had been recruited for their grade point averages.
“Hey,” Lexi said in a tone of realization, “with her fifty-one percent ownership, Trish can fire me, can’t she?”
“I suppose, but she’d never do that. She’s a pain in the butt at times, but Trish loves you, Lex. We started this business together, and we’ll make a success of it together.”
Looking troubled, Lexi shrugged and turned her attention to the menus she had planned for their weekend guests.
Just as the discussion was coming to a close, a sporty red Porsche jetted into the circular drive and squealed to a halt at the bottom of the garden steps. Trish popped out.
“’Morning, y’all,” she called, ascending the stairs in a short tennis dress, her blond hair cut in a classic chin-length bob, swaying. Tall and slender with wide blue eyes, a Mediterranean-acquired tan and the easy poise of those born to great wealth, Trish looked exactly like the coed she’d once been. “Lexi, have you mixed up a batch of that barbecue sauce yet? Can’t wait for you to try it. It’s all the rage in Manhattan. I begged the chef of Club Noir for the recipe.”
Despite the lighthearted tone of Trish’s cultured Southern voice, Lexi visibly bristled, and Brynn hurriedly answered for her. “We’ve been too busy with our planning session for Lexi to do much of anything in the kitchen yet. Why don’t you grab a virgin Mary from the pitcher in the fridge and come join us?”
“Can’t.
