through the doors, into a huge lobby decorated in a dozen shades of blue and green, the colors of the sea. Without saying a word, he strode purposefully toward the reception desk, Alex struggling to keep up with him. She hadn’t yet had a chance to put on her shoes and without the heels to add another two inches to her height, the dress dragged awkwardly on the floor.
The desk clerk was a woman in her twenties with enough blond hair for two people. She swept tousled bangs away from her eyes as she watched Thorn approach, then moistened her lips with a quick flick of her tongue. Her name tag read Candy.
“What can I do for you, sir?” The question was uttered in a voice that suggested the possibilities were endless.
“I want to know if you have a Miss Dupree registered,” he said. “Natalie Dupree.”
As Candy punched a few keys on the computer, Alex snuck a peek up at Thorn’s face. His gaze was directed solely on the clerk, or to be more specific, solely on the clerk’s hands. She wondered if Candy was aware of the tension building in Thorn’s body as he watched her red nails click against the plastic keys, seconds passing so slowly, each seemed to have a separate identity.
At last, Candy chirped, “No, sir. I’m sorry, but no one by that name is registered here.”
Alex, amazed, said, “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure,” Candy said without so much as a glance at Alex.
“Wait a minute,” Thorn said. “Maybe she’s using a different name. She’s about this tall,” he explained, holding his hand below his chin, “with reddish blond hair and green eyes. She’s twenty-six years old.”
“I’m sorry, sir—”
“She may be with someone else,” Thorn said reluctantly.
“I’m sorry,” Candy repeated as Roger appeared at Thorn’s elbow, a brown leather suitcase clutched in his hand. “I just came on duty a few minutes ago. I haven’t seen anyone fitting that description.”
“Fitting what description?” Roger asked.
Once again, Thorn described Natalie, this time adding the make and color of her car, but he was met with the same blank stare. “’Course, I’ve only been here since six,” the boy said, “and there’s a billion cars down on the extra lot.”
Thorn swore under his breath.
Candy, staring at the suitcase, said, “Are you staying with us? Do you have a reservation?”
Thorn once again looked baffled by a couple of simple questions. Apparently, he’d been so positive Natalie was registered at the Otter Point Inn that he was temporarily set adrift when he found out she wasn’t. As Alex had no idea what he wanted to do next, she decided to keep her mouth shut.
Roger, however, was not bound by these same concerns. “They’re on their honeymoon,” he told Candy, “in one gorgeous car.”
Immediately breaking eye contact with Thorn and sliding Alex a brief glance, Candy said, “How nice.”
Alex blurted out, “Not really—” but stopped as she noted the two startled expressions that greeted the beginning of this sentence. To heck with them, she thought, vowing once again to stay quiet.
“Well, by chance, the honeymoon suite is open,” Candy said as she scanned the computer screen. “As a matter of fact, it’s our only vacancy. We had a late cancellation.”
Thorn looked down at Alex. For a second, the rest of the world seemed to recede as his eyes probed hers. At last, he said, “Do you want me to drive you back to Cottage Grove or shall we take the room for a night and think this thing through?”
While two gaping strangers looked on, Alex stared at the man standing in front of her and wondered if pride alone was keeping him on his feet. His eyes looked drawn and tired, his square shoulders sagging under the continual blows to his ego. She smiled and said, “Whatever you want, Thorn. You call it.”
He looked back at Candy. “I don’t have my wallet on me. We left in kind of a rush.” Candy looked at him as though waiting for more information so he added, “Hell, just call Peter Hanks. He’ll vouch for me.”
“You want me to call our manager?”
“Please. Tell him Thorn Powell is here. He knows who I am.”
It took a little convincing, but in the end, Candy did call the manager at his home, where he apparently vouched for Thorn.
“I’m sorry to put you through all this, Mr. Powell,” the clerk said after she hung up the receiver. Her manner had moved from flirtatious to respectful, a subtle shift, but noticeable to Alex.
Thorn shrugged as though it was of little concern to him. Alex couldn’t help but notice how the dynamics of the situation changed once Thorn’s last name was known, and she wondered how often he stayed here and with whom—
“We’ll run a tab for you, sir,” Candy said as she handed Thorn a room key and a piece of gold plastic that looked like a credit card. “This is good in any of our restaurants or shops. Please, enjoy your stay.” With an ingratiating smile she added, “And I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you, sir. I’ve been here only two weeks—”
“Since I haven’t stayed at the inn for over six months, I don’t suppose you should be required to know me on sight,” Thorn grumbled.
Candy’s answering smile was as sweet as her name and was gone just as quickly as she turned her attention to Alex. “Congratulations on your marriage,” she said.
Alex knew what the clerk was seeing: a disheveled woman in a gaudy, droopy gown, barefoot, with hair going in twelve different directions. She knew that without prior knowledge of the situation, the conversation she and Thorn had held discussing whether they should stay or leave must have sounded very odd coming from a supposedly newlywed couple. But she didn’t like Candy’s challenging stare or the condescending tone of the woman’s voice, so, crinkling her eyes, Alex looped her arm through Thorn’s arm, and said, “Thank you ever so much.”
Thorn’s brow wrinkled as he glanced down at Alex.
“Let’s go, sweetheart,” she added.
Shaking his head, Thorn led her to the elevator, one step behind Roger.
The car was the topic of conversation as they rose to the third floor. Roger carried the ball while Thorn grunted now and then and Alex stopped to consider what she’d just agreed to—namely, spending the night in the same room with Thorn. She’d dropped his arm the minute the elevator doors closed, and now she snuck him a clandestine look and bit her lip. She wondered why she was allowing herself to be swept up in this man’s life and what he would expect as far as sleeping arrangements were concerned. After all, he was a stranger.
They followed Roger down a hallway, waiting patiently while the young man opened the oversized door of the honeymoon suite. As he switched on various lights and set the suitcase on the small cherry trunk at the foot of the bed, Alex stood off to the side, looking around the huge room, her shoes clutched against her chest.
Four glass doors opened onto a balcony, which apparently faced the sea. The wallpaper was a collage of cabbage roses; the bed
