Donna Sterling - Sex And The Sleepwalker

“Yeah, well, I’d be happy to tell her which route to take,” Lexi mumbled, though the sulky expression in her large dark eyes was softened somewhat. With her hair bleached platinum and cropped in spiky wisps around her cute, plump face, she looked like a baby doll whose tresses had been shorn by some exuberant little girl. The multitude of silver hoops and studs lining her ears, the guitar tattooed on her shoulder and the skimpy half-T she wore showed her for the hip, sexy musician she really was—a persona that had fully emerged only in the last couple of years.

Trish, a classical purist in both music and fashion, disapproved of Lexi’s tattoo and platinum bleach job. If Lex had tried either of those innovations during their sorority days, she would have caught hell; Trish had been the queen bee at the sorority house, too.

Brynn, on the other hand, thought the changes in Lexi were refreshing. The image fit Lexi’s character perfectly. In a way, Brynn envied her for her metamorphosis. Back in college, she and Lexi had been the quiet brunettes in a sorority full of vivacious blondes and redheads. Brynn had always suspected that she and Lex had been recruited for their grade point averages.

“Hey,” Lexi said in a tone of realization, “with her fifty-one percent ownership, Trish can fire me, can’t she?”

“I suppose, but she’d never do that. She’s a pain in the butt at times, but Trish loves you, Lex. We started this business together, and we’ll make a success of it together.”

Looking troubled, Lexi shrugged and turned her attention to the menus she had planned for their weekend guests.

Just as the discussion was coming to a close, a sporty red Porsche jetted into the circular drive and squealed to a halt at the bottom of the garden steps. Trish popped out.

“’Morning, y’all,” she called, ascending the stairs in a short tennis dress, her blond hair cut in a classic chin-length bob, swaying. Tall and slender with wide blue eyes, a Mediterranean-acquired tan and the easy poise of those born to great wealth, Trish looked exactly like the coed she’d once been. “Lexi, have you mixed up a batch of that barbecue sauce yet? Can’t wait for you to try it. It’s all the rage in Manhattan. I begged the chef of Club Noir for the recipe.”

Despite the lighthearted tone of Trish’s cultured Southern voice, Lexi visibly bristled, and Brynn hurriedly answered for her. “We’ve been too busy with our planning session for Lexi to do much of anything in the kitchen yet. Why don’t you grab a virgin Mary from the pitcher in the fridge and come join us?”

“Can’t. Have to shower, then hurry downtown for a lunch date at eleven.” The look in Trish’s eyes made it clear that she wasn’t exactly thrilled by the date. She hadn’t had much luck with dating over the past year. “But I’ll be back by two to man the front desk.”

“I don’t have you scheduled for desk duty,” Brynn said. She knew Trish was focusing a lot on the business to avoid thinking about her personal life.

“Thought I’d give you a break. Let you prepare for the weekend rush.” She shifted toward the door, then paused. “By the way, Brynnie…was there some kind of problem last night?”

“Problem?”

“At breakfast, Mrs. Hornsby mentioned she heard a ruckus coming from your suite. Yelling, thudding and clanging, she said. I didn’t hear a thing, but then my room is at the other end of the inn. Was there something going on?”

Both Trish and Lexi gazed at her in curiosity, and Brynn felt her color rise. “Must have been my television.” Guilt pricked her for having disturbed a guest, and even more so for lying about it. But she didn’t want anyone to know about her sleepwalking episode. Especially not Trish. God knows what she’d make of it. Brynn herself considered it not far from a psychotic breakdown.

Trish raised her fair brows. “You were watching television at three in the morning? You’re usually conked out by eleven.”

“I fell asleep with it on.”

“Oh. I’m glad there wasn’t a problem. But, um, maybe you should try to keep the volume down, hmm?” With a parting smile, Trish continued on her way into the inn.

Brynn drew in a breath and tried not to react negatively to the sweetly spoken rebuke. Trish had every right to expect the manager of her inn to refrain from waking the guests at three in the morning.

“So, what really happened?”

Brynn slanted Lexi a glance. “You think I’m lying?”

“Like a rug. I’d recognize that guilty blush anywhere. Something went on last night.”

“Nothing. It was nothing. Really.”

Lexi’s eagle-eyed gaze lighted on Brynn’s swollen, purplish toes, visible in her strappy sandal. “Then what happened to your foot? I don’t remember seeing that bruise yesterday.”

“I stubbed my toes, that’s all.” She had to think of a way to change the subject. “While I was rushing to answer the phone. It was my brother. They haven’t caught that abductor yet—you know, the case John has been investigating—and he called to warn me again about taking in suspicious strangers. Now how, I ask you, can we not take in strangers when we run a bed-and-breakfast? Having a cop in the family is enough to make anyone paranoid.”

“Don’t try to change the subject. Who was yelling and banging things around last night, and how did you get hurt? Tell the truth.” When Brynn didn’t answer, Lexi leaned closer and whispered with concern, “Did Antoine lose his temper about something?”

“Antoine!” If Brynn hadn’t been so surprised, she would’ve laughed. “Of course not. I’ve never seen Antoine lose his temper. He’s a sweetheart. Besides, he’s too urbane, too polished, to resort to violence.”

“Urbane and polished don’t have anything to do with a man’s violent tendencies. And there’s something you’re not telling me.” Studying her with an intensity that increased Brynn’s tension, Lexi’s eyes suddenly widened. “Were you and Antoine doing something…you know…kinky? Some kind of love play that got out of hand? I’ve heard that French lovers can be highly creative.”

Brynn laughed out loud at that. “Not even close.” Lexi would be so disappointed if she knew the truth about Antoine and her.

She wasn’t about to let that cat out of the bag. Lexi had been thrilled when Brynn started dating handsome, charming, artistic Antoine. Lexi had been certain Brynn had finally found a red-hot lover. Until then, she’d been involved in a series of long-term relationships with scholarly types more inclined toward philosophical stimulation than physical. Brynn guessed she just felt secure with that kind of guy. Secure, but sexually bored and frustrated. Lexi had recognized the problem and persuaded her to “go for the gusto.” Trish helped by introducing her to Antoine, her cousin who had recently moved to Georgia from France. He’d taken a flattering interest in Brynn, and they’d been dating ever since.

It wasn’t Antoine’s fault that the boredom hadn’t left her. She was the problem. She found herself thinking too much during intimate times. Analyzing every move.

Not that she’d always been that way. Far from it. There’d been a time in her life when a man’s touch had set her ablaze. But she refused to think about that man. It was bad enough she’d dreamed about him.

Maybe she’d just grown too cerebral to experience sexual bliss. After five weeks of dating her, Antoine had probably realized as much. Hence all those recent business trips.

Had she really thought of herself as an urban adventuress in her dream last night, with more notches on her bedpost than the gals on Sex and the City? She nearly snorted at the thought. In real life, her notches were few and far between.

But not nonexistent. She’d had pleasurable affairs. She was far from frigid, as Cade Hunter had claimed last night. Dream or no dream, that accusation still smarted.

“If Antoine laid a hand on you in anger,” Lexi said, “I’ll stomp his butt. I don’t hold with violence.”

Brynn resisted the urge to point out the irony in those two statements, or to laugh at the image of petite Lexi stomping a big guy like Antoine. “He didn’t do anything, I swear. He wasn’t even here last night. He left town after dinner for another business trip.”

Seeing the doubt on Lexi’s face, Brynn realized she had to come clean about what had really happened, or Antoine would be labeled a woman-beater. But how she hated to confess! Her sleepwalking was sure to make Lexi and Trish worry, considering Brynn’s role as resident manager of the inn. Roaming about in a zombielike state couldn’t be good for business.

“If you must know, I caused the ruckus myself last night,” Brynn admitted. “I was dreaming.”

Lexi frowned, perplexed. “What does dreaming have to do with—” She broke off as understanding dawned. “Oh, no. You haven’t started sleepwalking again, have you?”

Brynn assumed she was remembering the night in the sorority house when Lexi had woken to find her wandering around their bedroom, carrying on about Daytona Beach and a Pontiac Firebird. Thank goodness her roommate hadn’t paid much attention to what she’d been saying. The near miss of having her deepest, darkest secret exposed had shaken Brynn so much that she’d spent months taking herbs, sleeping aids, meditation therapy and biofeedback sessions to stop her from walking or blabbing in her sleep. Brynn believed it had been pure determination that had eventually broken the habit.

“Last night was the first time I’ve walked in my sleep since college,” Brynn said, hoping to reassure Lexi with that fact. “I guess the onset of football season was just too much for me to take, um, lying down.”

“So what did you do?”

“Rammed into a wall. Woke up in a closet.” She didn’t mention that it had been the basement broom closet. Lexi didn’t need to know she’d actually left her bedroom suite.

“That’s pitiful.” Lexi shook her spiky platinum head in grim reflection. “I’ll bet I know why this happened. You’re keeping too much bottled up inside. You’re still sexually repressed.”

Brynn stared at her in astonishment. How had she arrived at that conclusion? For all Lexi knew, her sex life was hotter than ever with Antoine.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised. I know you, Brynn Sutherland. If you were getting any decent action, you’d be giddy with relief, after all those years of pressure building up. Believe me, I have personal experience with this phenomenon.” She slumped back in her chair and sighed. “I had such high hopes for you and Antoine.”

Brynn rested her head against the back of the rocker. “It’s not his fault. It’s mine.”

“You just haven’t found the right guy.”

Hating to get her started again on a campaign to find her a red-hot lover, Brynn steered the conversation back to its original track. “I doubt that my sex life has anything to do with the sleepwalking, anyway. It’s stress related.”

“You’ve been stressed more than this plenty of times, but I haven’t heard about your sleepwalking until now. What was your dream about?”

The question caught Brynn off guard. “Nothing. Nobody. That is, nobody I know.” She felt unreasonably shaken by the inquiry. “I mean, I might have known them, but…uh…” Impromptu lying had never been her strong suit.

That intent look came over Lexi’s face again, and Brynn nearly groaned. Her friend would hound her until she confessed. With Lexi’s truth-seeking, mind-probing talents, it was a wonder Brynn was able to keep any secrets from her at all.