Suiteheart Of A Deal: Suiteheart Of A Deal / My Place Or Yours?

A little space? Rainey couldn’t believe her eyes. All along she had pictured a cozy cabin with two rooms and a thatched roof. Something Goldilocks and the Three Bears might inhabit. This was a house and a half.

Laughing with delight, she scrambled out of the Fairlane and gazed up at it with awe. It was a two-storey mansion of Laurentian design, similar in many ways to the inn. Built of cedar and stone, with tall windows and steeply pitched gables, it easily competed for glory with the tall, ancient spruce trees surrounding it.

The trees swayed gently in the wind, birds chirping from within the depths of their wide, sweeping branches. Casting her eyes downward, Rainey spied a rabbit, half white, half brown, making haste to evade the sudden intruders.

“So what do you think?” Beck asked, his voice full of pride.

“I can’t wait to see it!” Rainey cried with a little more enthusiasm than was appropriate under the circumstances. She glanced nervously at Beck, but he, too, was looking at the house with awe. Rainey understood now why he couldn’t risk losing it. It was everything to him. In a way, it was the love of his life.

On the ride here, he had been strangely quiet. Shy, almost. He seemed stunned. Blown away, Rainey assumed, by the fiery passion that had welled up between them this afternoon. Heaven knew she was surprised.

Could two people with practically nothing in common get caught up in the throes of a physical attraction so powerful it rendered them both deaf, dumb and blind? Sure they found each other attractive. But Beck was the hunk of the century; that was Rainey’s explanation. What was his? He had more women than Carter’s had pills. Surely there was nothing special about her?

Oh, boy. Beck’s women. Now there was a problem she hadn’t even considered.

“Let’s go in,” he suggested, breaking into her thoughts. Inside, the house was even more impressive than outside. The living room soared to the full height of the structure, along with the massive stone fireplace that formed its magnificent centerpiece. Overlooking the living room was a big, open kitchen with stainless steel appliances and a generous work island. Behind it, Rainey found two small bedrooms, a laundry room and a half bathroom. Beck was using one of the bedrooms as a store room, the other as an office.

Looking around, she saw that most of the furniture was old and cheesy. Real guy stuff. A retro, plaid sofa. Mismatched chairs. A wobbly kitchen table that looked like it had been salvaged from a junkyard. The wagon wheel coffee table was just about the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Men. Honestly.

“Your room is upstairs,” Beck said. “Across from mine.”

Rainey braced herself for the inevitable smart remark. Normally, Beck would make the most of announcing something like that—wink at her, or poke her in the ribs, or do that goofy thing he did with his eyebrows. Not this time. His face was blank, his manner strangely remote. He grabbed her bags from their resting place by the front door and carried them up the wide staircase. Rainey followed him, her eyes helplessly glued to his adorable butt.

The two bedrooms on the second level were huge and shared a big bathroom. A very messy bathroom. Terrific, thought Rainey. A bathroom slob. Frankly, the whole house was dusty and messy, though she sensed that Beck had scrambled to tidy up for her benefit.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing the bathroom,” he said in the flat, impersonal tone of a boardinghouse landlord renting out a room. “It’s a long hike downstairs in the middle of the night.”

“I don’t mind at all,” she replied. Good grief. The way they were acting, you’d think they really were just roommates. Well, of course, that’s what they were. Oh, dear, surely she wouldn’t have to remind herself of that?

While Rainey unpacked and took in the stunning view beyond her bedroom windows, Beck went into his own bedroom to change. She heard him whistling and breathed a sigh of relief. Once again, he sounded like the happy, overgrown kid he was.

Lord, she was exhausted. The past few days had whizzed by in a blur. It was amazing, she marveled, how much preparation even a meaningless wedding required. She looked forward to a long, hot bath, followed by a quiet evening. Maybe they could light a fire and enjoy a snifter of brandy together. Get to know each other a little better. After all, they were married—for real or not. Humming softly to herself, she changed into jeans and a baggy sweater and bounced down the stairs.

In the living room, she stopped dead in her tracks. Beck, too, had donned jeans and a sweater. But he was also wearing a jacket. Avoiding her eyes, he scooped up his car keys and put them in his pocket.

Rainey was appalled. “Surely you’re not going out!”

“Actually, I am.” He fidgeted unnecessarily with the zipper on his jacket, then raised his guilty eyes to hers. “I thought I might head up to Banff. Play a few hands with Nate and the boys.”

“A few hands?”

“Yeah. Poker. Five card stud. Winner takes all. Or, in my case, loser gives all.” He chuckled lamely.

Rainey didn’t laugh. “But—but it’s…” She trailed off there, awash in feelings she didn’t understand and couldn’t explain. She had almost said, “It’s our honeymoon.” But that was just nonsense.

“Look, Rainey,” Beck grumbled. “You said it yourself. It’s not a real honeymoon. So it shouldn’t make any difference if I stay or go. Right? Besides, don’t you want to relax? Get settled in?”

Anger welled up inside Rainey, but it was stupid, inexplicable anger. She struggled to get it under control. Beck was right. It wasn’t real. Any of it. “It makes no difference at all,” she lied.

Beck left and Rainey went to the window overlooking the driveway. As the Fairlane pulled away, spitting gravel, she suddenly recalled the fuming redhead who had screamed at him on the street that day in Banff—the day they had first met with Nate Frome.

“Humph!” she snorted, steaming up the glass. “Poker, my foot!”

7

“HOW MANY CARDS?”

Beck looked up. Someone had just spoken to him. Who was it? For one dizzy moment, he thought it was Rainey. But it couldn’t be. He was here in Banff, hunched over Nate Frome’s dining room table. She was alone in his cottage, doing heaven only knew what. Probably burning his clothes by now. Cutting up his furniture. Trashing his office.

“Beck?” came the bewildered voice again.

Beck snapped to attention. Okay, it was Nate Frome. At first glance he had actually looked like Rainey. Her face had somehow been superimposed on his—on all three faces at the table, in fact. Nate’s. Arnie Hutchinson’s. Pete Wilson’s. They all looked just like her—minus the knockout body and the long legs, of course.

“Beck!” Nate repeated. He sounded more worried than impatient. “How many cards do you want?”

“Ah, I’ll take three,” Beck replied. Wait a minute. Was it three? How many cards did he have in his hand? Oh, yeah. Two. “I’ll take three,” he repeated dumbly.

A look passed between the others. Catching it out of the corner of his eye, Beck muttered, “Sorry, gentlemen. I’m a little off tonight.”

“Yeah,” Pete snorted. “Off the planet.”

“Gentlemen, let’s play cards,” Nate said wearily.

Brows furrowed, lips pursed, Beck tried to concentrate on his hand. Okay, he had the jack of spades, the seven of hearts, the nine of diamonds and two sixes—a club and another heart. Nothing. “What’s wild?” he asked, risking more ridicule.

“You being here on your wedding night,” Arnie dead-panned.

Beck struggled to arrange his facial features into something resembling intelligence. “Rainey’s getting settled in,” he explained. “I’m just killing a little time.” It sounded lame, but what else could he say? I can’t go home yet, guys, ’cause I’m hot for my wife—I just can’t keep my hands off her. Yeah, sure.

“Fives and tens,” Pete said.

Beck frowned. “What?”

Shaking his head, Pete leaned across the table. “Fives and tens are wild, Beck. Listen, buddy, maybe you should just head on home now.”

Beck peeked at his watch. It was only eight-fifteen. If he went home this early, he’d probably find Rainey awake and shredding his photo collection.

Damn that woman! She had been hotter than hell when he left, but she wasn’t having it both ways. No, sir. Either it was a real marriage, or it wasn’t. Either they were going to get down and dirty, or they weren’t. And she was adamant that they weren’t. So why was she upset? Women. He loved them, but he would never understand them.

“I’m out.” He tossed his cards facedown on the table. Grumbling, Nate and Pete did likewise, and Arnie took the pot.

Restless, Beck jumped up and poured himself a cup of the strong coffee that helped the boys to stay awake, sometimes until dawn. It was probably a mistake. Sooner or later he would have to go home, and the last thing he needed was to lie awake all night thinking about how good it would be…

Nate cleared his throat. “So, ah, Beck, tell us how you and Rainey fell in love overnight.” A chorus of snickers rose up from the table. Beck ignored it—along with the annoying smirk on Frome’s face.

Coffee in hand, he sat down again. His friendship with Nate had always had an edge to it—a friendly rivalry. After that little episode two years ago, it had gotten downright nasty. But hey—how was Beck supposed to know that Nate had been dating that woman? She certainly hadn’t mentioned it.

“I don’t know, Nate,” he replied off-handedly. “I’m as surprised as you are.”