Love Me Sweet (Bell Harbor, #3)

Grant chuckled at Elaine’s expression, which was much like the one she’d had when staring at the DNA-encrusted boogie-woogie bed.

“I’m not sure what my manager has reserved,” Finch said to the desk clerk, “but do you happen to have another room available? We picked up a few strays on the road.”

Grant stepped up to the counter as the desk clerk shook her head.

“Mm, I’m sorry. I don’t think so. It’s Elvis’s birthday weekend and we’ve been sold out for months, but we may have some cancellations due to the weather. Let me check.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard, clickity-clack. “No, I’m sorry. There’s nothing right now.”

“Well, in that case, how many people can our rooms handle?”

Her fingers clacked some more.

“It looks like you have a couple of our themed rooms. Let me see. The Graceland Suite has a king bed in a private bedroom and there’s two sofas. The Burning Love Suite has a private king room, a sofa, and a chaise lounge. I’m afraid we’re out of roll-away beds, though. Several of our departing guests have added on another night’s stay because of the storm.”

Finch frowned and looked at Grant.

“Don’t worry about it,” Grant said. “We’ll figure something out.” Although he didn’t know what.

“No, no, we’re good,” Finch said. “I’m not sure why Clark got us two suites, but you and Elaine take the Burning Love room and the rest of us will crash in the Graceland. A little whiskey down the hatch and that floor will feel like a feather bed.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, sir,” interrupted the desk clerk. “Fire safety regulations stipulate we can only allow a certain number of guests in each room. You’ll have to divide up four and four if you want to add guests to your party.” She glanced at Grant. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“No worries,” Finch assured her. He turned to Grant. “Sorry, bro. Looks like you’re stuck with me and Reg tonight, but you can have the bedroom and we’ll take the sofas. Humphrey and Sam can bunk with Clark and Sissy in the other suite.”

This wasn’t the night Grant had planned, but then again, nothing had gone as he’d planned since the first moment Elaine had shown up in his bathroom back in Bell Harbor. “I guess that’ll have to work, but let me pay for the room.”

“Don’t sweat it. It’s a business expense. A tax write-off.”

“I just don’t feel right about that, Finch. You guys have been so generous already. Let me pay for something.”

“I know how you can pay us back, Cameraman,” Reggie said enthusiastically from over Grant’s shoulder. “How about you let me sleep with your woman in the big king bed?”

Elaine chuckled, but it was all Grant could do not to pop him in the jaw. This guy was getting on his last fucking nerve. It must’ve showed in his glare, because Reggie chortled and held his hands up in self-defense. “No? OK, then. Just a suggestion.”

Grant turned back to Finch. “Look, my aunt doesn’t live too far from here, and if I can get ahold of her, we can probably stay there tomorrow, but it’s too late to go over there tonight.”

“Honestly, no worries, man. As long as I can get a hot shower and a cold brewski, I’m good to go.”

They finished checking in, grabbed some luggage and guitars from the bus, and walked to the elevator. A vintage poster commemorating Elvis’s comeback tour hung on the wall. It was a red-and-blue image of the King with a banner across the top. Elvis ’69.

Reggie pressed his cheek against it and pointed. “You see that, gents? Sixty-nine? I’m going to love it here.”




Five minutes later Delaney stood with Finch, Reggie, and Grant outside their room. The door was painted a rich, deep red, and two overfed cherubs floated above a gold banner. Fancy gold letters declared this to be The Burning Love Suite. It even had little hearts dotting some of the letters.

“Burning Love, yeah?” Reggie murmured, elbowing his brother. “Sounds like an STD to me. Let’s see what’s behind door number one.”

Delaney couldn’t help but marvel at the decor as she stepped inside. It matched the tacky charm of the door, with bold, rich colors and shiny gold accents. Grant flipped a switch and a crystal chandelier dangling over a glass-topped dining table scattered glimmers of light around the room. A purple velvet chaise and a red, heart-shaped velvet stool filled one corner. On the other side of that was a dining area, painted white with gold trim, and a pink-and-gold seating area came next, complete with a sky mural painted on the ceiling.

The men walked in and looked around, heads tilting this way and that as they soaked it all in.

“Wow. Very understated,” said Reggie, nodding. “Even the cabinet handles are fat angels.”

“Those are cherubs, you ignoramus,” Finch said.

“What are cherubs?”

Tracy Brogan's books