In fact, Hugh was concentrating so hard on the host of new worries that had arisen to confront him this evening that he almost failed to notice that the bolt on the front door of Mattie's apartment was not in position.
He, himself, had locked it earlier. He never made that kind of mistake.
Someone had opened the door tonight and failed to set the dead bolt again. Whoever it was might still be inside.
Hugh stepped back and clamped a hand over Mattie's startled mouth to prevent her from saying anything. She went very still, her eyes widening in silent question.
“Someone inside,” he breathed into her ear. He took his hand away from her lips when she nodded her understanding of the situation.
Mattie mouthed a single word. “Police.”
He shook his head and pulled her quietly along the corridor to the door that opened onto a utility room. He opened it, reached inside, and found the switch that operated the hall lights. When he flipped it, the hall outside Mattie's apartment was immediately plunged into darkness except for the pale glow of the emergency sign at the end of the corridor.
“Hugh?” Mattie's faint whisper was now laced with anxiety.
“Wait right here.”
“What are you going to do? There might be a burglar inside. You're not supposed to confront them. You're supposed to go use a neighbor's phone and call the police.”
“Give me two minutes. If I haven't got the situation under control, go ahead and call the cops.”
“I'd rather you didn't—”
“Hush, babe. I'll be right back.”
It was the thought that it might not be a simple thief at all that was making him do this the hard way. After all the excitement on Purgatory followed by the death of Rosey and the disappearance of Gibbs, a man had to wonder if there might, just possibly, be something besides an everyday, garden-variety burglary in process inside the apartment.
And if there was, Hugh wanted some answers. The opportunity was simply too good to miss.
His eyes were adjusted to the shadows now. Hugh pushed the door open and went in fast and low. He was counting on the darkness behind him to give him the cover he needed.
A picture of the layout of the big studio firmly etched in his mind, he dived behind the leather sofa and flattened himself. He glanced up at the bedroom loft first. There was no one up there. He could tell that much from the glow coming in through the high windows.
The entire room was shrouded in darkness. Whoever had invaded it earlier had turned off the light that Hugh had deliberately left on in the kitchen alcove.
Hugh was processing that piece of information when he heard someone shift on the sofa cushions. Leather squeaked softly.
Hugh rolled to his feet, vaulted over the back of the sofa, and slammed into the body on the cushions.
A man yelped in startled surprise as the wind was knocked out of him. Gasping, the intruder thrashed about like a fish on a line. His wild gyrations succeeded in causing both Hugh and his victim to slide off the sofa and onto the carpet with a dull thud.
Hugh pinned the man to the floor and then wrinkled his nose as the unmistakable odor of brandy fumes assailed his nostrils.
Whoever he was, the guy had been into Mattie's small supply of liquor.
“Hey,” the intruder managed in strangled tones. “Take it easy, damn it. Let go, will you?”
The lights went on. “I've called the police,” Mattie said forcefully from the open doorway. “They'll be here any minute. Hugh, are you all right?”
Hugh looked down at the man he had trapped beneath him. “Shit. You'd better cancel that call to the cops.”
“Well, actually, I didn't call them,” Mattie explained, moving into the room. “I haven't had a chance. I just said that in case whoever was in here got any ideas of shooting his way out. I thought he might think twice if he knew the police were on their way.” She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening in shock. “Good grief. What are you doing, Hugh? That's not a burglar.”
“Hi, Mattie.” Flynn Grafton looked up at her from his prone position on the floor. His blond hair was spread out in a pale fan around his head and his gaze looked distinctly red and watery. “Sorry about this.”
CHAPTER
Thirteen
“Good grief, it's Flynn.” Mattie hurried forward, deep concern in her eyes. “For heaven's sake, let him up. Hugh. Did you hurt him? Flynn, are you okay?”
“He's fine.” Hugh got to his feet, annoyed with the speed with which Mattie's concern had shifted from him to Ariel's husband.
“I think I'm okay.” Flynn shook his head slightly as if to clear it. He sat up slowly and blinked in the light as Mattie crouched beside him. “Christ. You landed on me like a tank, Abbott. Who did you think I was? Jack the Ripper?”
“It was a possibility. What the hell are you doing here, Grafton? How did you get inside?”
“Ariel has a key. I borrowed it.” Flynn's words were slightly blurred.
“Why?” Hugh demanded roughly.
Mattie scowled at him. “Stop badgering Flynn. Can't you see he's still trying to recover from your assault? I hope there's no serious damage. That sort of trauma can cause all kinds of stress-related injuries from back problems to headaches. You definitely overreacted, Hugh.”
“I overreacted?” Hugh stared at her in disbelief. “The guy sneaks into your apartment, drinks your booze, and sacks out on your couch waiting for you to come home, leaves all the earmarks of a burglary in progress, and you call it an overreaction when I jump him?”
“Thank heavens you weren't carrying your gun. This is exactly how accidental shootings occur.”
Hugh looked up toward the ceiling for inspiration and patience. “Give me a break. I've never accidentally shot anyone in my life. That kind of thing I tend to do on purpose.”
“Calm down, Hugh,” Mattie said, her voice soothing. “I realize you're still a little wired from the adrenaline, but there's no need to get short-tempered.”
“Wired? Short-tempered? You haven't seen anything yet, babe.”
She smiled brightly. “Why don't you make us all a nice pot of herbal tea? I have some chamomile in the kitchen That will settle everyone's nerves.”
“My nerves are just fine, thanks. I'm not real happy but my nerves are in great shape.”
“Well, perhaps Flynn would like some herbal tea,' Mattie said, glancing down at the artist who was struggling to his knees.
“No,” Flynn whispered, holding up a pleading hand and looking seasick. “No herbal tea. To tell you the truth, I'm feeling a little rocky at the moment. Don't want to puke all over your nice rug.”
“Don't even think of getting sick in here,” Hugh warned.
Mattie frowned. “Don't sound so menacing, Hugh. You're just going to make him more tense.”
“This may come as a serious shock to you, Mattie, but I really don't give a damn about Grafton's stress level.” He turned to Flynn, who was pulling himself up onto the couch. “Stop playing the wounded innocent and tell me what you're doing here before I really get stressed out to the max and take you over to that window, open it, and drop you onto the street.”
“Hugh.” Mattie sent him a reproachful glance.
Hugh ignored it, his eyes on Flynn. “Let's have the explanation, Grafton.”
Flynn made it to the couch and sank wearily down onto the cushions. He put his head in his hands. “I came to ask Mattie if I could spend the night.”
“The hell you did. That settles it. I am going to drop you out the window. But first I'm going to do a neo-impressionistic job on that pretty face of yours.” Hugh started forward.
“No, Hugh, stop. Stop this at once.” Mattie threw herself into his path, holding up an imperious palm. “This isn't Purgatory or St. Gabriel, damn it. You're back in civilization now, and you will behave in a civilized fashion, do you hear me?”
“Out of my way, Mattie.”
“No, I will not get out of your way. This is my home and I run things h
ere. Now, you are not going to beat up Flynn. Is that clear? I'm sure he didn't mean what you thought he meant when he said he wanted to spend the night.”
“He meant to spend the night with you. You heard him. He said so himself,” Hugh snarled. “Get out of my way, Mattie.”
“He just wanted to sleep on my couch, didn't you, Flynn?” Mattie turned to her uninvited guest for confirmation.
Flynn raised his head, looking baffled by the commotion. “Sure. Just wanted to sleep on the couch. Ariel and I had an argument. Came over here to see if you'd put me up, Mattie. What's the problem?”
“I don't believe this.” Hugh pinned Mattie with his coldest gaze. “Does he spend the night on your couch regularly?”
“Of course not.” Mattie looked anxiously at Flynn. “This is the first time he's ever asked to stay here. I take it the argument was pretty bad, Flynn?”
“Bad enough.” Flynn collapsed back against the cushions, closing his eyes wearily. “I keep telling myself she's entering her Early Mature period, but I'm not so sure anymore. I know she's temperamental by nature, but lately it's been downright crazy. Her moods are all over the place.”
Mattie patted him gently on the shoulder. “What did you fight about?”
“Same old thing. My painting. But this time she really went bonkers.”
“Why?”
“Because I told her my mind was made up. I've got some stuff ready to show you, Mattie. I want you to tell me if you think you can sell it to your crowd of upwardly mobile Borgias and Medicis.”
Mattie sank down onto the couch beside Flynn. “No wonder Ariel blew up. She's been fighting you every step of the way on this project.”
“Yeah. But I've made up my mind to do it, Mattie. I can't live on her money any longer. Besides, truth is, I'm damned tired of doing art for art's sake. Hell, maybe I just want to prove my old man wrong after all these years. Maybe I want to show him that I can make a living at my art. I don't know. All I know is that I want to try putting some stuff into your gallery.”
“I understand,” Mattie said, still patting his shoulder.
“Look, I'm sure this is all very touching,” Hugh interrupted sarcastically. “And believe me, I'm well aware of how temperamental Ariel can be. But that's no excuse for you to come here looking for a place to bed down for the night, Grafton. Nobody is spending the night in Mattie's apartment except me. Clear?”
“Now, Hugh,” Mattie said, her tone soothing once more, “there's no need to run around beating your chest and defending your territory. Look at the time. It's much too late for Flynn to find somewhere else to stay. There's absolutely no reason he can't spend the night here on my couch.”
“He's history,” Hugh stated. “Get out of here, Grafton. Now.”
Flynn nodded, his eyes bleak. “I'll call a cab.”
“There's no need for that, Flynn,” Mattie said firmly. She shot Hugh a defiant glance and turned back to Flynn. “Where would you go at this hour, Flynn? A hotel? It would cost a fortune, and you don't have any money, remember?”
“I've got Ariel's credit cards.”
“Great idea,” Hugh muttered. “Use one of your wife's credit cards to pay for a fancy suite in some big downtown hotel while you hide out from her. There's a certain poetic justice in that.”
“No, I guess that wouldn't be right, would it?” Flynn straightened, looking very noble and stoic. “I'll think of something, Mattie. Don't worry about me. I'll find somewhere to spend the night. It's too late to get into any of the missions, but I can always find a doorway or something.”
Mattie was aghast. “But, Flynn, you can't possibly sleep on the streets. I won't allow it.”
Hugh eyed the pathetic little scene while he dug his wallet out of his jeans. “Tell you what. I'll make this even easier. I'll stake you to a night in a hotel, Grafton. It's worth it just to get you out of here.”
Mattie sprang up from the couch and came toward Hugh with a determination in her gaze that made him immediately uneasy.
“Will you stop behaving like a jealous Tarzan? There is no reason Flynn can't stay here. It's past midnight. I am not sending him out at this hour.”
“Then let him go home and sleep in his own bed.”
“This is my apartment, he is my brother-in-law, and I say he can sleep here.”
Hugh sensed defeat in the making, but he braced himself, planted his fists on his hips, and tried his most intimidating glare. “I say he goes.”
“You don't have any right to make demands around here.”
“Is that a fact? In case it has escaped your notice, we happen to be engaged. That gives me a few goddamned rights.”
She eyed him for an icy moment and then switched tactics with dazzling speed. “Hugh, I don't want to quarrel over this. Flynn's had too much to drink, he's very depressed and under a lot of stress, and he has no money of his own. It won't hurt you to let him sleep on the couch just this once. Please?”
“Damn it, Mattie.” It was not fair that a woman's pleas could break through a man's defenses so easily, Hugh told himself as he started to weaken.
A gentle snore interrupted the low-voiced argument. Hugh glanced toward the couch and saw that the man he was trying to evict had gone back to sleep. Hugh knew a strategically indefensible position when he saw one. Sometimes the only good option was a carefully orchestrated retreat.
And revenge, of course. There definitely remained the pleasures to be had in exacting vengeance.
Half an hour later Hugh stretched out beside Mattie in the loft bed and pulled her into his arms. He had waited patiently while she had found a blanket to throw over Grafton, brushed her teeth, taken her evening ration of vitamins, and changed into her prim little flannel night-gown.
“Hugh, I want to thank you for backing down on this little matter of letting Flynn sleep on my couch,” Mattie whispered earnestly as she snuggled close. “I know you were annoyed to find him here, and I realize that under the circumstances you had every right to react as you did. It won't happen again, I promise.”
“You're right. It won't happen again.” He kissed her throat, inhaling the sweet, feminine scent of her body. He was already hard with sexual anticipation, he realized. He let his hand glide down her arm.
“Hugh?”
“Yeah, babe?” He slowly pushed her proper little nightgown up over her knees and then edged it higher.
“Hugh, we can't. Not tonight.” She batted ineffectually at his roving hands. “Flynn might wake up and hear us. It would be horribly embarrassing.”
“Then you'll just have to try real hard to be very, very quiet, won't you?” He gently pried apart her tightly closed thighs. She was so soft, he thought. Her skin was like velvet. He smiled to himself when he felt the first small, delicious shiver go through her. He loved it when she trembled like that.
“Stop it,” Mattie hissed. “You're doing this to get even with me, aren't you?”
“No way, babe. I'm doing this on account of I'm such a sweet, sensitive guy who happens to be hornier than hell.” He tugged the nightgown off impatiently and tossed it over the loft railing.
Mattie gasped in horror as the gown fluttered downward. “For heaven's sake, Hugh. What will Flynn think when he sees that nightgown down there in the morning?”
“He'll think what he's supposed to think. That I'm staking out my territory.”
“Well, I suppose I should be grateful you don't do it in the usual manner of wolves and other wild animals,” she retorted tartly. “Really, Hugh, there's no need to be quite so primitive about all this. Oh.” She clapped a hand over her own mouth as she realized she had moaned aloud.
“Hush, babe, or he'll hear you. Think of the embarrassment.” Hugh slid down between her legs, moving lower and lower along the delightfully curving length of her until he could taste her essence.
“Ummph, no. I said no, oh.” Mattie held the pillow over her face. She used one hand to hold it in place and clenched her other first quite painfully in Hugh
's hair.
He used his thumbs to part her carefully, and then he used his tongue.
“Mmmmph.” Mattie yanked the pillow away from her face. “Oh, my God, Hugh.” She slapped the pillow back in place. “Mmmmph. No. Oh, Hugh.”
Hugh waited until she was arching frantically, her muffled moans threatening to turn into the now-familiar cries of delight that he had gotten addicted to hearing during the past several days.
When he decided Mattie was too far gone to remember to use the pillow to muffle her breathless little moans, he moved heavily back up along her soft body, spread her thighs more widely apart, and thrust himself slowly, deeply, into her wet heat.
When he yanked the pillow away from her face, she looked up at him with huge, luminous eyes. He saw her teeth were clamped on her lower lip in an effort to keep from crying out.
“Slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am?” Hugh murmured on a soft, husky laugh.
“Like I said, it's not so bad.”
He grinned and covered her mouth with his own. A moment later he swallowed her soft shriek of ecstasy as she contracted tightly beneath him.
Then he quickly released her lips and buried his own face in the pillow to stifle his groan as he poured himself into her.
His own muffled shout of triumphant release made the bed vibrate.
The angry shrill of the telephone brought Mattie out of a sound sleep with a start. She flailed around in the rumpled bed until she managed to silence the offending instrument by the simple expedient of lifting the receiver in the general direction of her ear.
She regretted the action immediately. A tearful Ariel was screaming more loudly than the phone had been ringing.
“He's there with you, Mattie, isn't he? I know he is. He went to you just like all the others did. Put him on the line right now. I want to tell Flynn Grafton to his face that he will never be able to crawl back into my bed. I don't care how hard he begs.”
“Good morning to you, too, Ariel. Nice of you to call.” Mattie opened her eyes and gazed at the ceiling. She was alone in the bed. Down below she heard the low rumble of men's voices and the clink of a pot. The aroma of strongly brewed coffee wafted upward.
Silver Linings Page 21