Under Wraps. Joanne Rock
even if she could have talked herself into sleeping, she was a little afraid that the man was so much on her mind she might end up moaning his name during a sexy dream or something equally embarrassing. Between Jake and their unconventional destination, she was having a hard time keeping her thoughts on the straight and narrow. “This resort caters to a very particular clientele. The name Marquis is a nod to the underground gentlemen’s clubs that served British aristocrats in the latter half of the nineteenth century. Guests are expected to uphold the fantasy element of the experience, so we’ll have no choice but to dress like the natives.”
He cut a quick glance her way, eyes full of skepticism.
“I hope you’re messing with me.”
“I wholeheartedly wish that I was,” she answered, envisioning herself stuck in layers of petticoats with a bustle and corset.
“What kind of hotel imposes a dress code?”
“First of all, this is not your normal hotel. It’s a privately owned club—more like an elegant country house that offers exclusive invitations. Second, the period costumes aren’t mandatory. But if we don’t play the game, it would be like wandering around a nudist colony in a tux. You don’t want to stick out at the resort if you’re there to question people and track down information.”
“I’m not wearing a sissy-boy collar up to my chin with a two-mile necktie.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s called a cravat.” And it would be a far cry from the blue dress shirt he wore with a worn-in white T-shirt underneath.
Though she was pretty sure he would look as mouthwatering in one as the other. Her gaze darted over his broad shoulders. Everything about him broadcast power. Strength. Hotness.
“Whatever.”
“The good news is that I recall a lot of functions that call for masks of one sort or another. That will help me mingle more since there will be very little chance of being recognized that way.”
In the pocket of her trench coat, her cell phone vibrated with an incoming message. Checking it, she saw a note from the management at their destination.
“It’s a confirmation for our reservation. They want us to know that we’ll miss the main seating for dinner and that they’ll serve us in our room.” She scrolled down the screen, not ready to think about sharing a bedroom with the man in the driver’s seat. The suite contained a queen-size bed plus a trundle; apparently pullout sofas weren’t period-accurate for their furnishings. The trundle thing had always struck her as amusing since they so obviously weren’t meant for people bringing kids to the hotel. Apparently a trundle was the Marquis’s comfortable answer to a threesome sleeping arrangement.
But in their case, it meant Jake would be sleeping only a few feet away from her, even in the biggest room available.
How awkward would that be to go from throwing darts at him to bedding down with him in a thirty-hour span? A quick shiver chased down her spine.
“Sounds good. I won’t be ready to face a bunch of role-playing swingers the moment we step into the place anyhow.”
“Although—” her thumb hovered over the scroll key on her phone “—we are invited to the evening entertainment that starts at eleven.”
“Should I be afraid to ask?” He cruised past signs for Baltimore as the snow coated the landscape.
A few cars with Christmas trees tied to their roofs passed, the sight a little surreal during this conversation about private sex clubs and role-playing naughty aristocrats.
“Apparently it’s a vignette called The French Maid.” Jamming the phone into an open compartment on the door of the SUV, Marnie didn’t want to think about it anymore, let alone discuss the nature of the club with Jake.
“You’ve been there before. What are the entertainments like?”
“I—” Her cheeks heated at an old memory. “I don’t consider myself overly uptight, but I couldn’t sit through the only one I ever started to watch.”
“You’re blushing?” He sounded far too amused.
“How would you possibly know that if your eyes were on the road?” The air in the SUV’s interior felt warm and heavy—too intimate by half.
She shoved the blanket from her lap and tossed it in the backseat.
“Details, please.”
Retrieving her bottle of water from the cup holder, she took a long swig, partially to delay. Partially to cool off.
“It was that good?” he prodded, all too aware of her discomfort.
“No. I don’t know.” It would be important to prepare for their stay, to steel herself against whatever wayward thoughts the place inspired. “It was more elegant than I imagined it would be. More of a peep show exhibition than anything overt.”
“You ran because it was a turn-on.”
“I didn’t run. I left because it felt icky to share a steamy moment with a room full of strangers.”
“How was it any different than watching a movie at the theater?”
She pointed toward the sign for 95 North where the interstate divided.
“There’s more anonymity in a theater somehow with the chairs all facing one direction. Plus, that’s a movie. This had real live people acting it out in front of us and the show was nowhere near PG-13. The entertainment at the Marquis felt more…communal.”
Now Jake reached for his water bottle and chugged it faster than she had.
“Maybe this isn’t the best topic for someone who needs to drive for ten more hours, after all.” He replaced the water and cracked the window.
Had she been aware of him before? Now she could practically feel the warmth of his exhalations across the console between them.
“You asked,” she reminded him.
“And with good reason. The more I know about this place, the better.” He tugged at the collar of his dress shirt even though the neck was open. “But for now, maybe we shouldn’t dwell on the gratuitous nudity.”
“I never said anything about nudity.”
“And you see where my mind went anyhow? Moving on.” He cleared his throat and straightened a pant leg at the knee. “Did you bring anyone to that show with you? A work colleague, friend, boyfriend?”
“As a rule, I don’t mix business with pleasure and I always traveled alone in my work for Premiere.”
“You should make a list of everyone you remember from that last trip—anyone from management to waitstaff who stands out in your memory, anyone you came in contact with who worked there.”
“Okay.” Grabbing her phone, she slid open the keypad to type some notes.
“I’ll have you email it to my office and we’ll run some background checks to see if anything unusual comes up.”
“We should do that before we arrive. Did I mention there’s no wireless on-site? Or phones, either. Well, you can have a phone, but if they see you with one in any of the common rooms, they hold it until your departure date. You have to agree to that in a waiver when you check in.”
“For a luxury resort, it’s damn restrictive, isn’t it? Although I’m sure that’s what makes it all the easier to commit a crime from a place like that. Less eyes watching your every move.”
“On the contrary, there are eyes everywhere. They’re just more focused on erogenous zones than technology.”
He slid another sideways glance at her and she felt it shiver over her skin as surely as if he’d touched her.
“I’m beginning to think the surroundings are going to prove a hell of a