Once again this was written by the very talented and gifted Cover Girl, by
far the BEST writer I have ever worked with. Thanks. I needed your help.
I will be eternally grateful.
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"Do you have an Alison Hart-Burnett registered?" Paul leaned over the desk, trying to see into the attendant's monitor as she keyed in the name.
"Ah…no sir," she suppressed a frown, turning her monitor away from him.
"She has to be here. Have you seen this woman?" He presented a picture.
"Sir, even if I've seen this woman, I'm not at liberty to discuss our guests," she handed the picture back to him.
"Fine, if you won't help me, get me the manager or someone who knows…"
"Is there a problem?" The manager poked his head out of his office.
"I was just…"
"Your employee refuses to tell me whether or not my wife is here," Paul spat, shoving the picture into his hands. "I believe you know my wife's family quite well. The HARTS often stay here."
"Yes… of course, Mr.?" The manager's eyes widened at the mention of the Hart family.
"Burnett, Paul Burnett. My wife is Alison Hart-Burnett. We spent our honeymoon here, as well as several vacations with the family." Paul raised a brow, leaning forward on the desk. "Now, Mr. Thomas," Paul sneered, "I want to know, which room my wife is in?"
"I'll see what I can find, Mr. Burnett," the manager sat down at another computer and began accessing files.
****************
"Mr. Faireborn?" A cheery voice greeted him as he walked into the small inn.
"Mrs. Connors," he cast a lop sided grin, setting his bag down near her desk.
"I was surprised to see your…"
"She's here then?" His eyes lit up.
"Yes, I mean no, that is she left to go riding an hour ago. I put her in the same room you had the last time you were here. Top of the stairs, last one on the right," she handed him a key. "I remembered she loved the view of the lake, and figured you'd be here sooner or later, now get your self settled and I'll pack you a picnic basket. You might be able to catch up with her. Michael said she was headed up to the lake when he saw her," she winked, patting his arm.
"Thanks," he squeezed her hand before heading upstairs. He walked into the room. His eyes fell on her robe lying on the bed; he smiled, lifting it in his hands. He walked to the window and parted the drapes. Looking out over the lake, he saw a lone figure dismounting a horse, and rushed back down the stairs where Mrs. Connors was waiting for him.
"Here you go," she smiled, handing him the basket. "Now, go get her. Ms. O'Hara said…"
"Shana… called you?" He stammered.
"She just told me to have this ready for you when you finally figured things out. Now, GO!" She shoved him towards the door. "And, mind you, she doesn't know you're here." She smiled, watching him race off towards the stable.
**************
Lady Jaye was sitting on the ground, leaning back on her hands, watching a flock of wild geese flying in for a landing on the lake. The crisp autumn breezy was beginning to pick up. She was brushing her hair from her eyes, when she heard the sounds of a horse approaching and turned to see that her horse was still tethered to a nearby branch. The sunlight blinding her for a moment, she shielded her eyes, attempting to discern who it was when she heard the rider pulling back on the reins with a firm command. "Dash?" She slowly stood, brushing the back of her pants off.
"I thought I might find you here," he grinned, swinging himself down. "I came bearing gifts." He chuckled, offering the basket. She didn't laugh. He watched her step forward, her arms wrapped across her chest. She'd been crying. "Allie?" He dropped the reins from his hand, and stepped closer to her, dropping the basket as well when he pulled her into his arms. She buried her face into his chest, her resolve breaking. She began to cry. "If you want me to leave, I will," he murmured, brushing his fingers through her hair. "But, I'd rather stay," he lifted her face to his. "Talk to me, Allie."
She pushed herself back from him, turning towards the lake. "I can't go on like this," she choked. "I never wanted to hurt either of you, especially not Paul." Flint stood watching her back. I was wrong…I should leave. He took a deep breath, ready to walk away if she wanted him to. "I don't know how to say it…"
"If you want me to go, I…"
"No, it's not you. I don't want to lose you. I love you," she turned to him, colliding into his arms, nearly knocking them both to the ground. "I don't know how to tell Paul that I want a divorce. He's been gone so long, and I did love him once…part of me always will but it's not the same. God, he would never understand my job…he never did." She felt his arms tighten around her and looked up into his face. She knew he was doing his best to suppress his grin but it wasn't working. "This isn't funny, Dash!" She pushed away, stalking towards her horse.
"Not so fast," he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back towards him. "You can't blame me for wanting to shout 'I've got MY girl.' Now, can you?" He traced his hand over her jaw, lifting her chin slightly, "Well?"
"No…"
"Mrs. Connors fixed us a lunch," he led her to the basket. "Or… what's left of it?" He eyed her carefully.
"Come on…we've had worse," she opened the lid to see everything tossed together, and pulled out a blanket. Peeling away a tomato slice, she laughed, flinging the blanket out before smoothing it. "Think you can hand me the stuff?" she nodded towards the basket.
"Sure," he grinned, settling down beside her. He started handing her things from the basket. A sense of relief washing over him as she opened up to him, telling him what was troubling her; he listened carefully, not speaking until he heard everything.
************
"I'm sorry Mr. Burnett but we have no record of your wife checking in," Mr. Thomas stood up from his desk, rubbing his eyes.
"She has to be here," Paul growled. "Have you checked everything?"
"Sir, I've spent the better part of the last few hours, calling the various facilities in the hotel, including the restaurants, health clubs, and shops. Not to mention the salon, and golf course. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. My staff will show you to your room," the manager sighed heavily, walking into his office.
"Where could she be?" Paul silently fumed, following a bellhop to his room.
***********
Mrs. Connors was sitting with her husband when she heard the front door open. She got up from the kitchen table and slowly opened the door to see the two enter, his arm about her waist. Her head tucked against his shoulder as he led her to the stairs. "Who is it?" She heard her husband, Michael, call to her.
"Just Dash and Allie," she smiled, closing the kitchen door.
**************
It was dark when the sounds of his pager woke them. Flint was leaning over to the nightstand, fumbling for it when he felt her arm snaking around his waist. She came up on one arm, the other clutching the blankets to her. "Dash, what time is it?" She yawned slightly.
He sat on the edge of the bed, switching on the light. "It's the base," he sighed heavily, reaching for his cell phone.
"I thought you had a few…. never mind," she sighed. "I can't remember the last time COBRA didn't ruin a vacation." She snuggled closer to him, tracing her fingertips over his spine, reveling in his discomfort. She stopped only when he gave her that look that said 'keep it up turnabouts fair play.' She felt the muscles in his back tense. His game face hardening as he stood up and stepped away from the bed. She sat up, bringing her knees to her chest. She waited for him to close the phone. "Dash?"
"Honey, I've got to get back tonight," he plopped down next to her, drawing her into his arms. "I'll be there when you get back. I'll go with you to talk to Paul."
"No, I can handle him. Besides, I expect you back in one piece." She traced her fingertips over his jaw.
"You have my word," he winked, kissing the inside of her palm. "I've got to go," he pulled himself away from the bed, gathering his discarded clothes. She was snuggling against a pillow, watching him get dressed when a strange feeling came over her.
"Dash?"
"Yeah, sweetheart," he grinned back at her, throwing the last of his stuff into a bag.
"Be careful…. "
"Aren't I always?" He scoffed.
"I mean it, I just have a bad feeling," she rubbed her arms, brushing the goose bumps away from her. He watched her before settling on the edge of the bed.
His hands stroking her arms, "You're not kidding are you?" She just gave him a warning glare. "All right, I promise, no cowboy stuff," he kissed her lightly, her hand brushing over the back of his head. She deepened the kiss.
"Allie, I'll be back," he chuckled breaking the kiss, and peeling her arms away from his neck. He slowly stepped back, throwing his bag over his shoulder as he headed out the door.
"You better!" she called after him, hugging a pillow to her chest. She set the pillow to the side, and walked to the window. "Just make it back in one piece," she whispered, watching him drive off.
**************
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"Do you have an Alison Hart-Burnett registered?" Paul leaned over the desk, trying to see into the attendant's monitor as she keyed in the name.
"Ah…no sir," she suppressed a frown, turning her monitor away from him.
"She has to be here. Have you seen this woman?" He presented a picture.
"Sir, even if I've seen this woman, I'm not at liberty to discuss our guests," she handed the picture back to him.
"Fine, if you won't help me, get me the manager or someone who knows…"
"Is there a problem?" The manager poked his head out of his office.
"I was just…"
"Your employee refuses to tell me whether or not my wife is here," Paul spat, shoving the picture into his hands. "I believe you know my wife's family quite well. The HARTS often stay here."
"Yes… of course, Mr.?" The manager's eyes widened at the mention of the Hart family.
"Burnett, Paul Burnett. My wife is Alison Hart-Burnett. We spent our honeymoon here, as well as several vacations with the family." Paul raised a brow, leaning forward on the desk. "Now, Mr. Thomas," Paul sneered, "I want to know, which room my wife is in?"
"I'll see what I can find, Mr. Burnett," the manager sat down at another computer and began accessing files.
****************
"Mr. Faireborn?" A cheery voice greeted him as he walked into the small inn.
"Mrs. Connors," he cast a lop sided grin, setting his bag down near her desk.
"I was surprised to see your…"
"She's here then?" His eyes lit up.
"Yes, I mean no, that is she left to go riding an hour ago. I put her in the same room you had the last time you were here. Top of the stairs, last one on the right," she handed him a key. "I remembered she loved the view of the lake, and figured you'd be here sooner or later, now get your self settled and I'll pack you a picnic basket. You might be able to catch up with her. Michael said she was headed up to the lake when he saw her," she winked, patting his arm.
"Thanks," he squeezed her hand before heading upstairs. He walked into the room. His eyes fell on her robe lying on the bed; he smiled, lifting it in his hands. He walked to the window and parted the drapes. Looking out over the lake, he saw a lone figure dismounting a horse, and rushed back down the stairs where Mrs. Connors was waiting for him.
"Here you go," she smiled, handing him the basket. "Now, go get her. Ms. O'Hara said…"
"Shana… called you?" He stammered.
"She just told me to have this ready for you when you finally figured things out. Now, GO!" She shoved him towards the door. "And, mind you, she doesn't know you're here." She smiled, watching him race off towards the stable.
**************
Lady Jaye was sitting on the ground, leaning back on her hands, watching a flock of wild geese flying in for a landing on the lake. The crisp autumn breezy was beginning to pick up. She was brushing her hair from her eyes, when she heard the sounds of a horse approaching and turned to see that her horse was still tethered to a nearby branch. The sunlight blinding her for a moment, she shielded her eyes, attempting to discern who it was when she heard the rider pulling back on the reins with a firm command. "Dash?" She slowly stood, brushing the back of her pants off.
"I thought I might find you here," he grinned, swinging himself down. "I came bearing gifts." He chuckled, offering the basket. She didn't laugh. He watched her step forward, her arms wrapped across her chest. She'd been crying. "Allie?" He dropped the reins from his hand, and stepped closer to her, dropping the basket as well when he pulled her into his arms. She buried her face into his chest, her resolve breaking. She began to cry. "If you want me to leave, I will," he murmured, brushing his fingers through her hair. "But, I'd rather stay," he lifted her face to his. "Talk to me, Allie."
She pushed herself back from him, turning towards the lake. "I can't go on like this," she choked. "I never wanted to hurt either of you, especially not Paul." Flint stood watching her back. I was wrong…I should leave. He took a deep breath, ready to walk away if she wanted him to. "I don't know how to say it…"
"If you want me to go, I…"
"No, it's not you. I don't want to lose you. I love you," she turned to him, colliding into his arms, nearly knocking them both to the ground. "I don't know how to tell Paul that I want a divorce. He's been gone so long, and I did love him once…part of me always will but it's not the same. God, he would never understand my job…he never did." She felt his arms tighten around her and looked up into his face. She knew he was doing his best to suppress his grin but it wasn't working. "This isn't funny, Dash!" She pushed away, stalking towards her horse.
"Not so fast," he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back towards him. "You can't blame me for wanting to shout 'I've got MY girl.' Now, can you?" He traced his hand over her jaw, lifting her chin slightly, "Well?"
"No…"
"Mrs. Connors fixed us a lunch," he led her to the basket. "Or… what's left of it?" He eyed her carefully.
"Come on…we've had worse," she opened the lid to see everything tossed together, and pulled out a blanket. Peeling away a tomato slice, she laughed, flinging the blanket out before smoothing it. "Think you can hand me the stuff?" she nodded towards the basket.
"Sure," he grinned, settling down beside her. He started handing her things from the basket. A sense of relief washing over him as she opened up to him, telling him what was troubling her; he listened carefully, not speaking until he heard everything.
************
"I'm sorry Mr. Burnett but we have no record of your wife checking in," Mr. Thomas stood up from his desk, rubbing his eyes.
"She has to be here," Paul growled. "Have you checked everything?"
"Sir, I've spent the better part of the last few hours, calling the various facilities in the hotel, including the restaurants, health clubs, and shops. Not to mention the salon, and golf course. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. My staff will show you to your room," the manager sighed heavily, walking into his office.
"Where could she be?" Paul silently fumed, following a bellhop to his room.
***********
Mrs. Connors was sitting with her husband when she heard the front door open. She got up from the kitchen table and slowly opened the door to see the two enter, his arm about her waist. Her head tucked against his shoulder as he led her to the stairs. "Who is it?" She heard her husband, Michael, call to her.
"Just Dash and Allie," she smiled, closing the kitchen door.
**************
It was dark when the sounds of his pager woke them. Flint was leaning over to the nightstand, fumbling for it when he felt her arm snaking around his waist. She came up on one arm, the other clutching the blankets to her. "Dash, what time is it?" She yawned slightly.
He sat on the edge of the bed, switching on the light. "It's the base," he sighed heavily, reaching for his cell phone.
"I thought you had a few…. never mind," she sighed. "I can't remember the last time COBRA didn't ruin a vacation." She snuggled closer to him, tracing her fingertips over his spine, reveling in his discomfort. She stopped only when he gave her that look that said 'keep it up turnabouts fair play.' She felt the muscles in his back tense. His game face hardening as he stood up and stepped away from the bed. She sat up, bringing her knees to her chest. She waited for him to close the phone. "Dash?"
"Honey, I've got to get back tonight," he plopped down next to her, drawing her into his arms. "I'll be there when you get back. I'll go with you to talk to Paul."
"No, I can handle him. Besides, I expect you back in one piece." She traced her fingertips over his jaw.
"You have my word," he winked, kissing the inside of her palm. "I've got to go," he pulled himself away from the bed, gathering his discarded clothes. She was snuggling against a pillow, watching him get dressed when a strange feeling came over her.
"Dash?"
"Yeah, sweetheart," he grinned back at her, throwing the last of his stuff into a bag.
"Be careful…. "
"Aren't I always?" He scoffed.
"I mean it, I just have a bad feeling," she rubbed her arms, brushing the goose bumps away from her. He watched her before settling on the edge of the bed.
His hands stroking her arms, "You're not kidding are you?" She just gave him a warning glare. "All right, I promise, no cowboy stuff," he kissed her lightly, her hand brushing over the back of his head. She deepened the kiss.
"Allie, I'll be back," he chuckled breaking the kiss, and peeling her arms away from his neck. He slowly stepped back, throwing his bag over his shoulder as he headed out the door.
"You better!" she called after him, hugging a pillow to her chest. She set the pillow to the side, and walked to the window. "Just make it back in one piece," she whispered, watching him drive off.
**************