Dillon was rubbing his forehead. He stopped cold when he saw JD eying him.
“Oh, you didn’t …” a grin twisted over one side of JD’s mouth.
“What?” Dillon blushed and paced off behind Wendy.
“Oh, I’m going to tell Danae about this!”
“Oh, not a chance! You ran face-first into the wall!”
“It was dark, jack-ass! You made me!”
“Oh — oh, this is better than I could have hoped for!”
“Jaded, what’re we supposed to see here?”
Wendy’s voice snapped him from his glee.
“Oh … Uh, I – I don’t know. I meant to ask, but …”
“Phoebe said it was on the bed, right?”
“Dude, pay attention ‘n’ shit.”
“Look who’s talking!”
“To th’ people, I mean, dork-ass. And it’s your fault.”
“Is not. Let’s see …” JD moved carefully toward the bed, finally getting the lay of the room.
A huge armoire, easily three times the size of the wardrobes in his room, squatted wide a few feet from the door. The room itself was expansive; vaulted ceilings reached far into the apex of the building, and thick timber rafters poked and crossed over the stark white surfaces to jab and vanish into the structure. The lamps were elegant and crystalline. A California king-sized bed sprawled beneath a carved headboard reaching nearly six feet up the wall. A low but equally intricate footboard splashed the end of the bed. A rustic, quilt-patterned bedspread lay across the thick pillow-top, and mounds of huge billowing pillows spilled against the headboard in silken opulence.
JD approached the bed and rounded the footboard to the side. Three-drawer mahogany night stands, more like miniature dressers, nestled against the headboard at either side. Against the wall with the bed, a massive chest of drawers stretched nearly seven feet toward another wall with a door set into it.
The bed pattern masked it at first, but then he saw it.
JD’s brows knit over his eyes.