How To Host a Seduction, page 9
Ellen assumed that Harley must be one of the other participants.
“And that body would have been Mac’s, since he was standing right behind her.” Josh Eastman, Lennon’s husband, rose to greet her. He looked dapper in a gray frock coat with a black pinstriped waistcoat. “Good morning, Ellen. You look lovely.”
Lennon’s husband Josh was a very handsome man, another of those too-good-looking-to-be-true men. Though he was as tall as Christopher—nearly as tall as the really tall Olaf—his rugged features beneath a shadow of ever-present stubble lent him a dark, rough-and-tumble appearance that was as opposite from Christopher’s polished good looks as hers were from Olaf’s.
After kissing his cheek in greeting, she glanced at Lennon who sat beside him, lovely in a summery gown of blue gingham, mouthing, Are you okay?
Ellen nodded.
Across the table Susanna and Tracy watched the exchange with knowing glances, both equally resplendent in their finery. Their gazes darted from her to Christopher and back again.
“Good morning, everyone,” he said cordially, exchanging a handshake with Josh and then sliding out a chair for Ellen.
She opened her mouth to assume control of the introductions, but Tracy beat her to the punch. “Are you a friend of Ellen’s?”
Christopher didn’t miss a beat. “Christopher Sinclair. You must be one of Ellen’s authors.”
“Tracy Owens and Susanna St. John,” Ellen said quickly, but that was as far as she got. Christopher was already circling the table and charming them with that dashing smile.
“I’m an old friend of Ellen’s,” he said. “We haven’t seen each other in a long time, so I commandeered her to catch up.” He turned to Miss Q. “You have me to blame for missing the body last night. How do we get up to speed?”
Well, would you look at that? He actually came to my rescue without doing something outrageous. No one at the table believed him, of course, but the gesture was sweet, nevertheless.
“Is there a video to watch or a transcript to read?” she asked, lending her efforts to the cause.
Miss Q darted her baby blues from one to the other, looking smug. “I’ll fill you in myself, dears. But you’ll have to play catch-up. You’ve lost a whole night.” She dragged out each syllable so everyone had a chance to dwell on what they might have been doing on the night in question.
Thank you, Miss Q.
“I’m afraid playing catch-up will have to wait,” Lennon said, tossing her napkin onto the table and standing. “I need to powder my nose. So does Ellen.”
She didn’t have to ask twice. Christopher arched a brow her way, but Ellen would have sacrificed a lot more than a cup of much-needed coffee to escape this bunch.
“Well, then, go powder your noses, dears.” Miss Q waved them off before reaching for her teacup. “But come enjoy this delicious breakfast before I take Ellen and Christopher for a walk in the garden to bring them up to speed.”
Ignoring Christopher’s gaze, Ellen followed Lennon back into the house and to a small half bath off a narrow corridor.
“Where are we?” she asked, as Lennon herded her into the small but elegantly appointed room.
“Staff bathroom off the kitchen.” She flipped a light switch and Ellen maneuvered back against the toilet to make way for her. “I had no idea Christopher would be here.”
“I guessed as much. Although I confess to a moment of thinking you’d set me up with Mr. Muscle-Butt.”
“I would never,” Lennon said, aghast. “You must know that, Ellen. We’re friends.”
“Trust me, if I’d thought for one minute you’d colluded with your great-aunt on these little shenanigans, you’d be rewriting a lot more than your hero in that manuscript you’ve got sitting on my desk.”
“I do hope you’re joking.”
Ellen paused for effect before admitting, “I am. But I’m simply not believing your great-aunt. You should be really grateful chutzpah isn’t a genetic thing.”
Ellen’s proximity to Christopher seemed to have had a direct bearing on her ability to think clearly, because now that she wasn’t under the direct influence of those lethal eyes, she could dwell on the reality of the situation in a way she hadn’t had a chance to yet.
“It’s only Thursday. I’ve still got to survive until Monday with him.”
“Auntie Q didn’t trick Christopher into coming.” Lennon grabbed her hands. “He knew you were going to be here. She swore to me, although I’m not sure I believe her.”
“He said as much.”
“Are you okay? Do you want to bag on the training? Josh will understand.” Lennon’s gaze zeroed in on her throat and her eyes grew wide. “You’ve got a love bite.”
“I decided to avail myself of the opportunity at hand,” Ellen said lightly, ignoring Lennon’s frown. “Well, as I don’t usually discuss my sex life…suffice to say you were right about Christopher being amazing in bed. Just don’t tell your great-aunt, or the next time I come to town I’ll find myself showing up at a wedding where I’m the guest of honor.”
“Ellen, are you sure about this? I know you think Christopher isn’t serious about you, but I disagree. He’d never have asked you to marry him if he wasn’t.”
“Worried I’ll break his heart?”
Lennon either didn’t get the joke or didn’t find it funny. “I’m not worried about Christopher’s heart.”
“Trust me. I’ve got it under control. Please don’t add yourself to the list of people who think they know what I need better than I do myself.”
“I hope you’re right.” She gave a reassuring squeeze and let go. “I’m just so sorry this happened. I honestly never suspected. Auntie Q coerced Josh into using Eastman Investigations to launch Southern Charm Mysteries because she thought it would be good for business—both his and hers. She knows how his investigators have been driving him crazy and figured the team-building training was exactly what they needed.”
“Hindsight is twenty-twenty.” Ellen fixed her smile in place. “Just tell me there aren’t other guests running around with guns. I don’t think I can handle much more today.”
She shook her head. “Josh hired them so he could work at home more with me, but these two are constantly dragging him into the office. They’re polar opposites who clash over everything. We were hoping for a breakthrough this weekend.”
“I’ll hold a good thought.” For herself, too. A breakthrough was exactly what she needed.
“Thank you for being so decent,” Lennon said earnestly. “Auntie Q had no right to set you up. All I can say in her defense is that she’s well intentioned. She’s convinced you and Christopher belong together. She’s also obsessed with getting Southern Charm Mysteries off the ground so Olaf has a business to run that interests him.”
Something about big brooding Olaf running a corporate training murder-mystery business that relied on actors and role-playing struck her as off-kilter. But Ellen couldn’t comment because the door swung open, hitting Lennon in the back.
“Ouch,” she said. “Occupied.”
“We’re here to powder our noses,” Susanna shot back.
Tracy elbowed her way in behind her. “Come on, budge up.”
The small bathroom had been a tight squeeze for two women in voluminous gowns. Four was akin to riding a subway during Friday-night rush hour. Ellen found herself wedged between the toilet and the wall, her gown twisted around her ankles, her back arched uncomfortably to accommodate a towel rack.
“Guys.” She grunted. “Let me out. I can’t breathe.”
“I’ll turn on the fan to circulate the air,” Tracy offered.
Susanna stood on tiptoe and peered over Lennon’s shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere until I know why you got set up with that positively gorgeous man.”
“If I’d known Southern Charm Mysteries provided gorgeous men, I’d never have agreed to be Susanna’s partner.” Tracy laughed. “And I’ve already solved one mystery. The mystery of why you two weren’t at dinner last night.”
“Don’t make assumptions.” Lennon quickly leaped to Ellen’s defense. “This is all Auntie Q’s fault. The little meddler is up to her old tricks.”
Ellen wasn’t much of a sci-fi fan, preferring the fantasy of the past to an unimagined future, but she wished with all her heart that right now she had one of those transporter machines she’d seen on television.
Beam me up, Scotty.
“Christopher and I haven’t seen each other in a while and Miss Q didn’t mention he was going to be here, to me or to Lennon,” she said calmly, resisting the urge to tug up the ruffle at her collar. “There’s no problem, though. We discussed the situation last night and we’re both content to be partners for the training.”
“Did you and Christopher date?” Susanna asked.
“I do hope you didn’t waste the entire night talking,” Tracy added.
Lennon rolled her eyes. “Give her a break.”
“You mean like she’s given us one lately? I had to reconstruct a perfectly good hero in my last book.” Susanna nailed her with a to-the-point non-Hurricane-induced stare. “How could you have dated that gorgeous man and still refuse to believe in heroes? In our books or in real life.”
“Did you hear his voice? Who could resist that Deep South drawl?” Tracy, another Yankee, asked while shooting Lennon a knowing glance. “No wonder you married Josh.”
A trio of curious gazes cornered Ellen and, short of blowing through them like a snowplow on an icy city street, there was no escape. Schooling her expression, Ellen leveled a stare at her audience and said, “Got it under control, ladies. And I believe in romance heroes as much as I always have.”
6
The Garden
CHRISTOPHER LOOPED ARMS with Ellen and Miss Q to escort them down a graveled path that led into the gardens. “We’ll head west. The sun’s not too high, so we should still be able to catch a breeze off the bayou.”
“You’d make a fine master of Félicie Allée.” Miss Q smiled. “And I just happen to know the perfect mistress.”
Ellen glanced up at him, one dark brow arched.
“She’s a very beautiful woman,” he agreed, taking in the shiny hair fringing softly around her face.
She leaned around him to peer at Miss Q. “You’re just going to town with this madness, aren’t you.”
“I know grand passion when I see it, dear, and I’d rather risk your friendship than let grand passion pass you by.”
“Hmm” was all Ellen said before pursing those sweet lips.
“How could I possibly resist inviting you here?” Miss Q glanced up at him and winked. “Ellen and I visited Félicie Allée after Lennon and Josh’s wedding. She fell in love with the place. Didn’t you, dear?”
Ellen graciously relented. “Who could possibly resist a plantation set deep in the bayou with a mysterious history and its very own pirate?”
“I certainly couldn’t,” Miss Q said. “Especially not when I heard the plantation’s future was in jeopardy.”
Ellen shook her head, sending those glossy dark waves swinging around her face in a way that made Christopher itch to rake his fingers through them.
“I still can’t believe anyone would sell an antebellum plantation,” she said.
“A tragedy,” Miss Q agreed. “But running the plantation as a museum wasn’t particularly lucrative since it’s entrenched in the bayou outside the city. The original pirate owner of Félicie Allée wasn’t even a real pirate, so he can’t possibly compete with Jean Lafitte, who had a whole town named after him.”
“What do you mean he wasn’t a real pirate?” Ellen asked.
“A privateer, dear. Not the cutthroat variety.”
“Can’t use the cutthroat kind in romances, anyway,” Ellen said dismissively. “Heroes have to be noble.”
“During the War of 1812, our captain’s accomplishments were very noble, and definitely more prestigious than Jean Lafitte’s. He just wasn’t half the braggart Lafitte was. Alas.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Lafitte’s home is closer to New Orleans. The former owners couldn’t make the location work to their benefit.”
“They lacked vision and imagination,” Christopher said.
“Which is not a problem with the current owners. We’re visionaries. And we want to be successful, so both of you be sure to suggest Southern Charm Mysteries to your executive management for your next corporate training.”
“I’ll keep it in mind the next time the VPs are sending editors to a teamwork training with the marketing department.” Ellen rolled her eyes. “Murder sounds about right, but there wouldn’t be any mystery to it, I’m afraid.”
Miss Q grinned. “You tell your executives we make corporate training fun, so they won’t have real bodies to deal with when the role-playing is over.”
“A definite selling point.”
Christopher laughed, as pleased with Ellen’s reaction as he was by Miss Q’s salesmanship. “Let’s head into the arbor so you can bring us up to speed on our noble captain and his mystery.”
He steered the ladies down a curving walkway toward the bayou, where a light fog still misted off the water. The gardens encompassed ten acres around the house, a wild place where tall cypress trees dripped Spanish moss from low-hanging branches and colorful azaleas and bright wisteria dominated the landscape.
But what pleased Christopher even more than the value of the acreage devoted to the gardens was Ellen’s response to them. On one of their very first dates, she’d talked about her tour of his hometown and had waxed poetic about these very gardens. It had been Christopher’s first glimpse of the idealistic romanticism Ellen hid deep beneath her cool exterior.
Walking through the gardens at Félicie Allée was like stepping inside a romance novel, she’d said. The perfect setting for falling in love. The only thing missing was the costumes….
He would make sure she had every chance to fall in love in her perfect setting before this training session was over.
“So, Miss Q, how about giving us that rundown.” After using his handkerchief to ensure Miss Q a dry seat on the bench, he directed Ellen to the bench opposite.
“I’m tremendously sorry you missed the body. I was ever so pleased with the debut performance.” Rummaging through the big shoulder bag she’d brought, she withdrew a roll of what appeared to be yellowing parchment paper tied with a red ribbon. “But I can explain everything just as well. First, though, we’ll start with your treasure map.”
Christopher accepted the map and reluctantly slipped his hand from Ellen’s to slide the ribbon away and unroll the parchment. With their heads bowed together, he and Ellen surveyed the finely drawn lines that detailed the plantation’s floor plan.
“Well done,” he said. “The detail is extraordinary.”
Miss Q nodded, clearly pleased by the praise.
“You’ve planted clues everywhere?” Ellen asked.
The task seemed monumental given the expanse of the plantation.
“Oh, yes.” Miss Q leaned toward them, pointed to a room.
“There’s your garden suite and here’s the arbor. See, we’re not far at all.”
True enough, the garden suite was situated in the west wing, with the shoreline where they sat not far beyond the walls.
Miss Q’s expression brightened and her eyes twinkled. “In a nutshell, Southern Charm Mysteries offers several different styles of corporate team-building events. We do evening and weekend productions as well as conference sessions like this one. I’m sure you’re both familiar with those wildly successful murder-mystery games.”
“I’ve heard of them, but never participated,” Ellen said before glancing up at him. “Didn’t you mention you’d once played with some friends?”
Christopher nodded. “On a ski trip. Had a great time.”
“Perfect.” Miss Q clapped her hands in delight. “Because that’s the premise of our training. We incorporate our team-building into the game and we’re debuting with a marvelous script called Away with the Tide.”
Ellen bristled beside him.
“What?” he asked.
“That title.”
“I believe it was meant to be a play on Gone with the Wind,” Miss Q offered.
“I see.”
Christopher bit back a smile, suspecting the only thing Ellen saw was that Louisiana wasn’t Georgia and that if that title had crossed her desk she’d have filed it in the trash.
Undaunted, Miss Q continued. “Away with the Tide tells the story of Captain Julian Lafever, the man who built Félicie Allée in the early eighteen hundreds, after earning a fortune as a privateer in the Caribbean.
“During the War of 1812, the British approached him and Jean Lafitte to use their ships in an attack against New Orleans. Julian convinced Jean to join forces in passing this information along to the U.S. government, instead—for a price, of course,” she added with a grin. “They wound up using their ships to defend the city under General Andrew Jackson.”
Christopher hooked an elbow over the back of the bench, forced himself to pay attention to Miss Q’s story rather than the way Ellen leaned forward intently, clearly fascinated with the history. The overhang of Spanish moss-draped branches filtered the rising sun, filigreed her profile in light and shadow. Her delicate features were bright with interest.
“Sometimes the truth is better than the most clever plot twists,” she said with an appreciative nod.
“Absolutely, dear,” Miss Q agreed. “And that’s the best part of all our scripts—each has been written to blend fact and fiction. These training events aren’t only fun—they build team-working skills by forcing our guests to work together toward a common goal.
“Away with the Tide features our captain entertaining the governor of Louisiana, who’d come to Félicie Allée along with a group of very influential guests, to honor the captain’s service to the government by issuing him a pardon for privateering from President James Madison himself.”
“The whydunnit is to find out how our captain went from a pardon to murdering the governor’s daughter?” Christopher asked.
