Cougar Christmas Page 3

  “Wow, this place is really something. I can see why people lay out three to five grand a weekend to stay here,” Drew murmured as they walked into the front lobby.

  Whispering Pines was a large stone building that seemed almost to grow out of the side of the mountain it was built against. Flanked by huge, old growth trees, the front of the building was edged by a wide spreading lake that looked tranquil in the winter sunlight.

  The inside of the resort was just as grand with high, arching ceilings carved from some deep reddish wood and skylights that let patches of sunlight in to play over the shiny hardwood floors. In one corner stood a massive Christmas tree decorated tastefully in gold and maroon—apparently the only nod to the upcoming holiday.

  To go with its exclusive and luxurious décor, Whispering Pines also had tennis courts, an indoor swimming pool, and even a small jewelry store, where newly doting husbands could get their wives gifts. There was a separate spa as well that Genevieve was actually looking forward to visiting. The idea of a soothing massage and a good facial was immensely appealing, especially considering the stress she’d been under for the past six months.

  “It is nice,” she whispered back.

  She didn’t know why she felt the need to keep her voice low, maybe just because she got the feeling that everything she said would echo in the cavernous space.

  “Come on, we’d better go register.”

  They walked up to the front counter, which appeared to be a long, unbroken stretch of highly polished oak, still holding hands stiffly. Genevieve wished she could loosen up and relax but it just felt wrong to be holding hands with her assistant. It was too intimate, somehow.

  Better get over it, Gen, she told herself with an internal sigh. If you can’t stand to hold hands how are you going to look deep into his eyes for all those “intimacy workshops” the infomercials are always pushing?

  But no matter what she told herself, even the thought of sitting close to Drew and doing only that, just holding his gaze, made her so nervous she nearly broke out into a sweat.

  How the hell was she going to do this?

  There was a nice looking young woman, probably about Drew’s age, standing behind the monstrous front counter, poised at the keyboard of a sleek computer. Genevieve opened her mouth to speak to her but to her surprise, Drew beat her to it.

  “Hi, Mr. and Ms. Wells checking in for your Christmas Couple’s retreat,” he said, smiling at the girl across the counter. “My wife here works for Spiritual Soulmates—Genevieve Wells?”

  “Oh yes, Ms. Wells.” The girl’s fingers began to fly over the keyboard. “Yes, we just got your confirmation the other day from Mister Solomon himself.” She looked up, her eyes shining with devotion. “What’s it like working with him every day? Is he as handsome in person as he is on TV?”

  “Oh, well he—” Genevieve was saved from what would certainly have been a lie, since she didn’t feel a smidge of attraction for her boss, by a deep, booming voice from the office behind the counter.

  “Is that Genevieve Wells you just checked in, Marley?”

  “Yes Sir, it is,” the girl called back, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder.

  Genevieve looked up just in time to see a tall, stooped figure emerging from the small office door like a troll coming out of its cave.

  “Genevieve, I’m so glad to meet you,” boomed the troll. He was probably somewhere in his sixties, she imagined, with thinning gray hair and the rounded shoulders of someone so tall he’s constantly ducking to keep from bumping his head on too-low ceilings and door jams. A pair of thick black glasses perched on his large knobby nose and he pushed them up with one finger before holding out his hand.

  “Uh, glad to meet you too,” she said belatedly after realizing she was staring at him. She untwined her fingers from Drew’s and reached across the counter to shake. “You’ll have to forgive me but do I know you?” she asked as her hand was swallowed up in his cool, firm grip. “Have we met at one of the staff seminars? I usually stay close to the home office but—”

  “Oh, no, no, no.” He shook his head and boomed laughter, like thunder rolling overhead. “I’m actually quite new to the Spiritual Soulmates family. I’m Dr. Guy Phillips and Stuart has been kind enough to make me the head spiritual guide and counselor here at Whispering Pines.”

  “Oh, well in that case I’ve heard lots of good things about you.” Genevieve smiled at him, wishing he would release her hand. But he didn’t. Instead he placed his other hand on top of the first one that was holding hers captive and leaned across the counter to study her face.

  “I’ve heard about you too, Genevieve and may I say that Stuart is concerned—very concerned—about the erosion of your relationship.”

  “Excuse me?” Genevieve stared at him blankly. “What? I mean, why? Why would he say something like that?”

  “Stuart is concerned about you,” Philips repeated, raising his eyebrows. “He says he can tell something is wrong—and has been wrong for a while. He feels you and your soul mate are in definite need of remedial help. Just between you and me, I don’t think you winning this trip was entirely the luck of the draw.”

  He boomed a laugh again and squeezed her hand in both of his. By now Genevieve was beginning to feel like it was a dead appendage—like a limp fish attached to her arm that she was never going to get back.

  “Remedial help, huh?” Drew raised his eyebrows and put his arm around her shoulders. “Well now, I don’t know about that. Gennykins and I have been going through a little bit of a rough patch—her grandmother’s been ill unfortunately, among other things—but we’re coming out of it just fine.”

  Gennykins? That was really going too far. Genevieve struggled to keep the incredulous look off her face and settled for giving her assistant a sharp little kick in the shin, glad the counter hid her actions.

  Drew uttered a muffled groan and squeezed her shoulders a little harder than necessary. But the pleasant look remained plastered on his face and Genevieve could feel a frozen smile on her own mouth as well. If only this weird Phillips character would give her hand back! But he was still too busy staring at her, as though analyzing her every move to release her numb hand.

  “Not having any problems, eh…? You’ll have to forgive me, I don’t even know your name, Mister Wells.”

  “Charles,” Drew said at the exact same time Genevieve said,

  “Drew.” They looked at each other and she bit her lip as a hot blush rushed to her face. “Er…his name is actually Charles Drew Wells but I always call him Drew,” she said lamely, hoping to cover her mistake.

  “Well, Drew it is then. Unless that’s a private name between the two of you? Something you only use during intimate moments like making love?” Philips raised bushy salt and pepper eyebrows at them and Genevieve nearly choked.

  “Actually she calls me ‘Daddy’ during our more intimate moments,” Drew said, with a perfectly straight face. “So you can call me Drew, no problem.”

  Oh my God, “Daddy? Genevieve aimed another kick at him but this time he avoided it nimbly. Unfortunately Philips seemed to be taking everything they said at face value.

  “Daddy, hmm?” He frowned at her, his eyes narrowing in concentration behind his thick lenses. “Perhaps a buried Electra complex, then…”

  “My assis—uh, husband is kidding you,” Genevieve said, elbowing Drew in the ribs sharply. “He’s such a kidder. In fact, his sense of humor is what attracted me to him in the first place.” She thought the last part was pretty brilliant but it seemed to bother Phillips somehow.

  “It’s strange you should say that, Genevieve, because you don’t appear to be deriving any enjoyment from Drew’s little joke at all.” He raised his bushy eyebrows again. “In fact, his sense of humor appears to be making you tense rather than relaxing you.”

  “Oh, well, I—” Genevieve began but Phillips was already shaking his head.

  “I’ve seen this before—when a relationship is allowed to sl
ide so far that little things, endearments and inside jokes a couple used to find amusing and intimate, have become nothing more than irritations. I’d say we have a lot of work to do. Would you like to follow me to your room?”

  “We’d love to,” Drew said smoothly before she could answer. “If you wouldn’t mind giving my wife her hand back?”

  “Hmm?” Phillips looked down and appeared to realize he was still gripping Genevieve’s hand between his own two huge paws. “Oh, my apologies, Genevieve. It’s just that I’m so very focused on you. Stuart told me what a valued member of his staff you are and how much he’d hate to lose you. So you see…” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose again and smiled at her. “I’m here to help save both your marriage and your career.”

  “Um, thank you. Thank you very much,” Genevieve muttered. She felt like someone had just dumped about a pound of ice cubes into her stomach. But there was nothing she could do except let Drew take her hand again and follow the tall, stooped figure as he headed for the shiny gold doors of the ultra plush elevator.

  “I’m afraid since Stuart registered you at the last moment, all our themed rooms are taken,” Phillips said as he fitted an old fashioned key into the shiny brass lock in room 336. “But I’ve taken the liberty of booking you into our honeymoon suite even though I understand your relationship isn’t brand new. I think you’ll like it.” As he spoke he pulled out a thin plastic key card and slid it into a slot above the keyhole at the same time that he turned the key. There was a sound of tumblers turning, an electric humming, and a low metallic click all at the same time and the door sprang open.

  “Nice security system you got there, buddy.” Drew nodded at the double locking door.

  “Oh yes. Well, it’s necessary for our guests’ peace of mind. You’ll understand in a minute.” Phillips nodded them into the suite. “After you.”

  “Wow,” Genevieve heard Drew murmur under his breath as they walked into the room. The rich hardwood floors, dotted here and there with jewel-toned area rugs, shone with mellow charm in the dim light.

  Looking up she could see that the light source was a small crystal chandelier hung high above on the vaulted ceiling. The room they had entered appeared to be a kind of lounge area because there was a plush oxblood leather couch and ottoman just big enough for two sitting in front of a fifty-two inch TV.

  “This is our viewing area,” Phillips said, nodding at the couch and TV set up. “But more about that in a minute. For right now let me show you the bedroom and the en-suite spa bathroom.”

  “That sounds great, doesn’t it, baby?” Drew smiled at her and put his arm around her shoulders again.

  Genevieve tried not to stiffen up but it was just so weird having him call her “baby” and touch her in such a familiar way. She forced a smile.

  “Uh, sure does…Hon,” she tacked on at the last minute.

  Damn! Why is Drew so much better at this than I am?

  She had an idea that it had to do with his inner smartass coming out but there wasn’t much she could do about that now. Instead she tried not to jump when his large hand slid down from her shoulders to the small of her back as he guided her forward through the small doorway and into the suite’s bedroom.

  “Oh, this is lovely,” Genevieve murmured, forgetting her irritation with her assistant for a moment.

  The bedroom was filled with soft, diffuse lighting but in this room the entire floor was covered in plush, deep blue carpet. A window looked out over the side of the mountain where a few trees still clung to their colored leaves.

  The floor space was dominated by a huge king-sized bed, draped in a luxurious white comforter and what looked like at least forty pillows of different sizes. From the canopy bars above the bed hung gauzy, insubstantial curtains that were more sheer than white. They were gathered at the bed’s four carved wooden posts but Genevieve could see that once let down, they would form a soft, inviting cocoon inside their diaphanous borders.

  Not that we’ll be cocooning together, she thought, shooting Drew a sidelong look. We’ll have to switch out—one of us on the couch and one on the bed. Still, the gorgeous bed was so inviting and romantic she was almost sorry she didn’t have someone to share it with. Someone she was really in love with, that was.

  “I thought you’d like it—most people do.” Phillips nodded in obvious satisfaction at her reaction to the bedroom. “Now if you’ll look in here, we have the en-suite spa bathroom.”

  He nodded at the door to the right of the bed and Genevieve walked over to it, taking the opportunity to get away from her “husband’s” guiding hand.

  Inside the bathroom was as opulent as the bedroom, with a gold flecked black marble floor and a circular hot tub made of the same stone. An array of white pillar candles and a fluffy stack of white and black towels sat on the broad edge of the tub.

  Just add champagne and you have the makings of a perfect couple’s night.

  Again Genevieve felt a stab of regret. If only she really was part of a couple again. If only she had a man who loved her enough to want to take a warm bubble bath and drink champagne with her by candlelight… She tried to suppress a sigh as she walked over and sat on the edge of the tub.

  “Mmm, this thing looks big enough for two.” Drew joined her, putting an arm around her shoulders again.

  Aware that the uber-therapist was watching closely, Genevieve was proud of herself when she didn’t flinch—even when Drew leaned down and kissed her cheek lightly.

  But though she sat perfectly still and allowed what felt like a completely inappropriate kind of touching, Philips still frowned as he watched them.

  Geeze—what did I do wrong? she couldn’t help thinking.

  Trying to shake the feeling that this whole scenario was some kind of test she was failing miserably, Genevieve forced a bright smile and turned to look at Drew.

  “A tub built for two and lots of candles. All we need is a bottle of bubbly and we’re in business.”

  “We can provide some champagne, of course, and we do encourage our Soulmate couples to spend as much time together as they can being intimate.” Phillips frowned. “But in this case there’s a problem, Genevieve. A rather large one, I’m afraid.”

  Genevieve’s heart was suddenly in her mouth and the cold marble tub under her butt felt like ice.

  “What’s that? You ran out of Dom Perignon?” She laughed weakly, trying to keep her composure but having a difficult time of it. Inside her head a loop of fear and guilt was running over and over again.

  He knows! He knows! He knows that Drew isn’t Charles. He knows you’re lying. He knows everything. He knows!

  When Phillips finally answered her heart was beating so loudly in her ears she could barely hear him over its drumming.

  “The problem is,” he said, still frowning at her with his bushy eyebrows drawn low. “That I don’t believe for a moment that you have the slightest interest or intention of following up on the indirect offer of sex that you just made to your husband.”

  “I…what?” Genevieve didn’t know whether to be relieved or incredulous. But at least Phillips didn’t know she was lying, which restored a great deal of her confidence. “I’m sorry,” she said primly, lifting her chin and frowning at the tall therapist. “But there’s no possible way you could know that.”

  “My dear Genevieve, I most certainly can.” Phillips smiled at her gently. “You see, I am an expert at interpreting body language and I’ve been watching yours ever since we said hello at the front desk.”

  Drew snorted. “And you think that fifteen minutes observation gives you the expertise to comment on our sex life?” he demanded, acting with what Genevieve thought was admirable skill. He really made it sound as though they were a couple who had been going to bed together for years.

  “My dear Mister Wells—Drew—even five minutes of observation would have given me that.” Phillips’ deep voice was mild and he smiled as he spoke but Genevieve still felt like a snake confro
nted by a large and particularly clever mongoose. “Come.” Phillips motioned for them to leave the bathroom. “Let’s go back to the viewing room and I’ll explain. There’s something else—something very important—I need to show you.”

  “Fine.” Drew rose and took her hand again, tugging her along as they all went back to the room with the couch and television. He settled himself on the couch and Genevieve sat stiffly beside him, trying to act like the arm he put around her shoulders felt natural and right.

  It looked like Phillips was set for a lecture because he started pacing in front of the couch, long arms crossed behind his back in a posture of intense concentration. Finally he stopped and turned to face them.

  “Body language,” he said, frowning deeply. “Body language tells me as a therapist everything I need to know about the health of any particular couple’s relationship. And what I’ve been seeing from the two of you has me worried—extremely worried.”

  “I don’t understand.” Genevieve crossed her arms over her chest tightly and frowned at the tall man. “What are you talking about?”

  “What am I talking about?” Phillips threw up his hands in obvious exasperation. “I wish you could see yourself, Genevieve, and there would be no need for me to answer that question at all.”

  “Yeah but seeing as how we don’t have a full length mirror following us everywhere we go, we’d appreciate if you’d answer all the same.” Drew raised an eyebrow at Phillips who had begun pacing again. Unfortunately his sarcasm appeared to be lost on the eccentric therapist.

  “From the moment I laid eyes on you two I said to myself ‘Here is a relationship in trouble.’” He frowned at them both. “To me what your bodies are saying—yours especially, Genevieve—is that you’re emotionally estranged and you have no interest in physical intimacy. Quick—” He rounded on Drew. “When was the last time you made love? Don’t think about it, just answer me.”

  Genevieve nearly choked but the apparently unflappable Drew didn’t bat an eyelash.