Pillow Chase. Jeanie London

met Troy’s gaze and squeezed his hand to let him know how much she appreciated his efforts to run interference with these two schemers.

      “Why don’t we just talk to our respective mothers and encourage them to get together,” she suggested. “If they want to, they will. If not, no harm no foul. They’ll think we’ve all lost our minds, but no one will wind up in an awkward position. You’re right in one regard, Laura. I don’t really know you, but I assume you don’t want this town to start gossiping about your parents again.”

      “Of course not,” she said. “But I do think we need to put the past behind us if we can.”

      “You’re looking for a miracle.”

      A slow, easy smile spread across her face. “It so happens that we specialize in miracles at Falling Inn Bed.”

      “Forgive me, Laura, but you specialize in sex,” Miranda said, squelching her impatience. “You might pretty it up like you did in my suite, but I saw the dungeon Victoria’s staying in.”

      Her sister laughed. “It was the rack. I told you.”

      Miranda only stared at the two of them, uncomfortable with being the object of their amusement.

      “Ladies, would you mind explaining how you plan to avoid raising red flags?” Troy asked.

      Victoria launched into a breathless account of how they would delve into their grandparents’ lives, and if anyone got interested—which she was sure they wouldn’t—then they’d just pretend to be tracing their genealogy.

      As Miranda listened to her sister and Laura, she agreed their plan might yield the answers they were looking for without inviting any interest from the press. But she wasn’t willing to take that chance. Not when they had no idea what they might find.

      Before she had a chance to make her argument, though, Troy said, “I can help out with the records. It’s going to be tough to find out about the senator’s orders during his military career, but I’ve got some access. I should be able to get basic information.”

      For a space of a heartbeat, Miranda could only stare up at her husband.

      He was offering to help?

      She recognized his determination to assist in this plan, despite her attempts to convince these two otherwise.

      “This is a family situation, Miranda,” he said. “And I’m family. I don’t mind helping if it will get us some answers without cluing anyone in to what we’re doing.”

      She still couldn’t manage anything more than a stare, so he leaned close and whispered for her alone, “Damage control.”

      “I knew there was a reason you were my favorite bro-in-law.” Victoria launched forward to kiss his cheek. “You’re hired. So what about you, big sis? Are you on board, too?”

      All gazes turned to her, and it was then that she finally realized what was happening.

      She was getting dragged into this madness whether she wanted to or not.

      4

      MIRANDA WILLED HERSELF to smile graciously as Laura suggested they meet in her suite later for dinner to officially begin their investigation.

      “We’ll make my room headquarters and discuss how best to proceed,” she said.

      “Good idea,” Victoria agreed. “You’ll like the Castaway Honeymoon Isle, Miranda. No perverted sex toys in there. It’s tasteful, like your suite.”

      Right. Tasteful seemed sort of irrelevant when they were about to cross long-drawn lines with this scheme to bring the Fords and the Grangers together. All the nuances of the situation hadn’t hit her yet, but they would as soon as she had a chance to think about what they were about to do. At the moment, the whole situation just felt strange.

      Even her husband felt like a stranger. He’d leaped feetfirst into this investigation even as she tried to dissuade her sister from investigating. He must have thought he was helping, but it wouldn’t be the first time he expected her to handle her family the way he would have handled his own.

      But the Fords were nothing like the rambunctious Knights. The six Knight siblings always made holiday get-togethers feel like the inside of a hurricane tunnel. Her mother-in-law reveled in having family around and encouraged her children to have fun and make memories.

      Miranda loved her in-laws, but she couldn’t deny the activity level sometimes overwhelmed her. Those times she sought out her father-in-law, an admiral, who always seemed like the calm in the middle of a storm.

      She couldn’t deal with her family the same way she and Troy dealt with his, and most of the time, he understood that.

      But how could she argue his point now?

      Victoria plus Laura Granger equaled trouble and the situation required damage control. Like it or not. And yet…had Troy backed her up when it counted, she might have put a stop to this craziness.

      After they said their goodbyes, she and Troy left the photojournalist’s room, but once inside the elevator, she brushed his hand from the control panel and depressed the lobby button.

      “We’re not going back to our suite?” he asked.

      “No, the spa.”

      “Why?”

      “Because I feel the need for a relaxing soak in the whirlpool. Or the sauna, if you prefer.” She needed to clear her head and make some sense of what had just happened.

      Troy narrowed his gaze. “You’re angry.”

      “I’m not angry.”

      “No?” He arched a brow, a skeptical look that at any other time might have earned a smile from her. His striking green eyes contrasted sharply with his blond hair and tanned skin, making even a glance potent. “If you’re not angry, what are you?”

      Miranda considered her answer as the elevator came to a stop and unloaded them in the Wedding Wing lobby, in full view of the Mireille Marceaux painting showcased in a display. “I’m amazed Laura managed the loan of this painting from Westfalls.”

      He frowned.

      “I’m not discussing your defection here in the lobby, Troy.” She wouldn’t discuss it at all until she’d had a chance to gather her thoughts.

      “My defection?”

      She ignored him and looked up at The Falling Woman. The stunning redhead and the surrounding forest gleamed in mist from the falls. The sheer veil she draped over her body poured over her like a waterfall, enhancing rather than covering the curves below. Miranda could make out a hint of blush-colored nipples, the triangle of glossy hair between her thighs.

      “Laura told us her mother pulled some strings to arrange the loan,” Troy finally said. “Since her mother worked at your school, I don’t see what’s so amazing.”

      “Laura’s shown considerable business savvy by using this painting to generate local interest in her grand opening.”

      Troy led her across the lobby, staring up at the painting as if he couldn’t figure out what the fuss was all about. “Because of the mystery surrounding the artist?”

      “Her mystery has become legend around here.”

      A French painter from the middle of the last century, Mireille Marceaux had been known for her erotic oil paintings and sketches, although posthumously her landscapes had earned renown as well. After her unexpected death, she’d bequeathed the bulk of her estate to Westfalls Academy. The legend involved her mysterious connection to the academy and the Niagara Falls area.

      “The Falling Woman is erotic art,” Miranda explained. “When my mother was in school, Westfalls administration wouldn’t acknowledge the existence of anything but the landscapes.”

      “Understandable