by Sarah Hegger
“You’re such a flirt.” Phi slapped him on the arm. “Don’t ever stop. At my age, a girl needs something to look forward to.”
“Hey.” Matt’s whisky baritone dragged her eyes away from the window.
A giggle built in Pippa as color rushed to her face. He leaned against the doorframe, wearing a sexy, naughty grin that catapulted her straight back to last night and made her want to rub up against him like a cat. “Hey, yourself.”
“I brought Eric.” He jerked his head to where Phi was still firing questions at Eric.
“I see that.”
“He came in this morning. Surprised Isaac and me.”
“Pippa Turner.” Eric shouldered his way past Matt and entered the kitchen in a swath of cashmere and charm. “Or should I say Pippa St. Amor?”
That smile should be condemned as deadly. “You can say whatever the hell you like as long as it’s followed by how good it is to see me.”
Eric flashed perfect teeth in his tanned, carved face. Yup, definitely a threat to women everywhere. “It’s always a pleasure to see those legs, Pippa. And the rest of you.” He swept her into a citrus man-scented hug. “How the hell have you been?”
“She’s been great,” Matt said. “And you can put her down now.”
“Oh, Mathieu.” Phi bustled into the kitchen. “Stop peeing on Pippa’s leg and let’s have a drink.”
“It’s ten in the morning.” Pippa disentangled herself from Eric. Matt stood beside Phi and glared at the back of his brother’s head.
“And?” Phi hauled glasses out of the cupboard. “Where does it say we cannot drink to celebrate the return of the prodigal?”
“How am I the prodigal?” Eric’s dark eyes were still doing a thorough inventory of Pippa. Normally, she’d have given any ogling jerk-off a good reason to keep his eyes to himself, but Eric had a way of doing it that was totally non-creepy and made a girl want to prance like a show pony. Except, her attention was more on Matt, and the thunderous look on his face.
If Matt had been giving her the same ogle Eric was, she’d be shoving him up against the wall and demanding he deliver on the silent promise. And she was supposed to be keeping her distance.
Pippa went to fetch the champagne. Fortunately, Phi was not much of a drinker. Despite her big talk.
Eric shrugged out of his beautifully cut coat and laid it over the back of a chair.
Phi squealed and grabbed his arm. “Eric, is that a tattoo? Show me.”
God, her grandmother was irrepressible. Pippa threw Eric an apologetic look. “You don’t have to.”
“Yes, he does,” said Phi.
Eric chuckled and rolled back his sleeve with sharp, decisive wrist turns. “I had it done a while back.”
Tanned, muscular forearm appeared under the crisp, white shirt. The kind of arms a girl would like to gnaw on. Pippa stepped closer to get a better look. At the tattoo.
“I have more ink.” Eric grinned at her. “Wanna see?”
The Evans flirt for sure and up to his old tricks. It made her laugh.
“I’ll leave you to catch up with Eric.” Matt shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to check out how my guys are doing.”
“Oh.” Phi swung back toward him. “They did a wonderful job. Such nice boys. You can send those ones around anytime. The dark one.” Phi shivered and went pink. “I do like a man built like he could toss you around the bedroom.”
“Right.” Pippa cut this short, before Phi elaborated. “So, Eric, tell us what you’ve been doing.”
Matt stopped with the baize door half held open. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait to hear what Eric’s been doing. I need you to show me the problem.”
She swung around and stared at him. Matt knew exactly what the problem was. He’d seen it last night.
“You’d best go.” Eric gave her a prod in the back. “My brother’s getting territorial.”
Was he? Matt’s jaw could break rock it was so tight. His eyes bored into her, daring her to refuse. It shouldn’t be at all thrilling, but it kind of was, and very flattering. She followed his fine ass out the kitchen and up the stairs. Heat burned below her skin. She hadn’t taken full advantage of her chance to get her hands on that ass last night. Next time—
Wasn’t she the one explaining to Phi an hour ago how she needed to nip this thing in the bud? Now she was building scenarios in which she could get both tight butt cheeks in her hands.
Matt strode into her bedroom and went right to the leak.
His men had plastered it over, and Pippa could only barely discern the sheen of new paint. She joined him, letting her eyes stray along the strong column of his neck. It tasted as good as it looked. Pippa cleared her thick throat. “They did a good job.”
“Yup.” Matt grabbed a small set of steps propped against the wall and one-handed them over to the spot. He stretched up and lightly touched the repair. Where to look first? The inch of ripped stomach exposed by his tee riding up, or the convenient eyeful of package right in front of her. She had that pressed against her last night too. Damn it! She was never a crotch watcher. What the hell was she doing? “Um, Matt?”
“Yup.” He ran his fore- and middle fingers over the plasterwork. Magic fingers. “Matt, can we talk?”
He looked down at her. Topaz eyes, guarded and watchful as they studied her. “Okay.”
“About last night.”
“Ah.” He dropped his hand and descended the steps. He put them neatly against the wall beside a closed paint can and a tool-strewn tarp. “I’ll take those away with me when I go.” He folded his arms over his chest and lowered his chin, almost to his chest. The age-old man pose for getting ready for a verbal takedown.
“Last night was . . . great.”
His stare didn’t waver. “And?”
“Why do you think there’s an and?” She played for time.
He shrugged one shoulder. “Because with a girl like you, Pippa, there’s always an and.”
“I’m a woman not a girl.”
“Duly noted.”
And he was back to staring at her. “I don’t think . . . I mean, I’m sure that we shouldn’t . . .” If he’d help her out here, this would be so much easier. “I’m not looking for anything right now.”
He dipped his head to stare at the ground and raised it. “By ‘anything’ you mean what? A relationship? Sex? More crazy hot making out?”
“A relationship?” Pippa pounced on the word with a long exhale.
“But making out some more is good?” He shoved his hands into his pockets.
“What? . . . Um . . .”
“How about sex?”
“Yes. No. You’re messing with me.” She caught the telltale gleam in those wicked, gold eyes.
“Yeah, Pippa, I’m messing with you.” He strode toward her, gripped her arms, and tugged her closer. “I didn’t like you flirting with my brother.”
“Everyone flirts with Eric.”
“True.” His grip on her arms was nice, secure and firm. The whiff of laundry detergent and musky male went straight to her knees. She put her hands against the hard ridge of his pecs. Seriously nice. She allowed her fingers to drift a bit.
“Last night was hot.” He crowded closer. “I had wood for hours.” Her sex clenched in response. “I’ve wanted to make out with you for years, and it was everything I imagined and more. But”—he dipped his head and pressed his forehead against hers—“I know you have a life and career, and you’ll be getting back to it. My life is here in Ghost Falls.” He slid his nose along her cheek until his breath huffed hot and ragged in her ear. “But if you want to mess around until you go, or maybe more, maybe less. I’m good with that.” He sucked the lobe of her ear into his mouth. Hot and wet. “I’m so down with that.”
Her body was so down with that too. She leaned into him. Her breasts swelled against the hard line of his chest. And she got her hands on that tight, gorgeous ass. “Okay.”
“Okay what?” He bit h
er ear, hard enough to get her attention.
“We can mess around. Maybe more.”
“Maybe a lot more.” He pushed the hard ridge of his cock against her belly.
Man, that was not fighting fair. She hadn’t had sex in so long, and he was hard and beautiful and big. She rubbed against his erection. No choice, had to be done. “Okay. But nothing serious, because I don’t do serious.”
He groaned and stepped back. “Nothing serious, but not with your grandmother and my brother downstairs at the time.” He palmed his erection and adjusted himself with a slight wince. Ah, hell, she wanted to do that. “Pippa, babe.” His voice husky and horny. “You gotta get that look off your face.”
“Right.” She shook her head to clear it. “You’re right.”
“Tell me about your plan to take your career back.”
“Hm?”
“Your plan.” A grin split his face. “Your plan to get back in the game.”
“How do you know I have a plan?”
“Pippa.” He shook his head slowly from side to side. “You always have a plan.”
Except now, with him. No plan. Clueless.
Chapter Eleven
Pippa checked her messages before she went downstairs to make dinner. One of her calls had been returned. She dialed voice mail, her finger difficult to control as it shook over the little buttons.
“Ms. St. Amor.” A young, female voice, chirped into her ear. “This is Brittany at Mr. Carlson’s office. I’m afraid Mr. Carlson is out of town for the rest of the month. On vacation. And he’s out of cell reach. He won’t be able to get back to you until he returns.”
Pippa jabbed the Off icon. “Bullshit.”
Bryan Carlson never took a crap without his cell phone. Miserable bastard. She’d helped him get his first AD job on her show, thrown her weight around for him. She tossed her phone onto her bed. Too restless to settle, she paced the room.
“I didn’t say it,” she said to the room. “God, you so busy condemning me for something I didn’t do.”
Doors, all of them, slammed in her face and locked tight. Not one call back. Not a damn one. Allie hiding out, her editor scared for her job, and the cameramen pretending like her text never even existed. When they turned their backs on you, they went deaf and blind as well. And why was she surprised exactly? It’s how it worked. She knew that. When you’re out, you’re out. Twelve years of her life gone, just like that. She almost wished she had said those things. Had done what Ray had rigged.
No, she didn’t, because Allie had been sweet and lost and looked to her to help her find her inner Cleopatra. Allie knew what happened, she’d been there and heard the exact words Pippa said. Maybe she could insist Allie speak out.
No, she couldn’t do that. Allie flinched at her own shadow. She had no place in a shitstorm like this one.
Social media. God, it made her life so much harder. All that instant access to millions of unsolicited opinions. All those millions of voices commenting on something she was innocent of. God, her head was going to explode with this crap.
She tapped the Twitter app. So many damn notifications. Some self-flagellation demon had her tapping the top one open.
Elena@elenigirl22—@pippastamor boy did you have us fooled! #numberonebitch #shameonyouPSA
“You know what?” she said to the phone. “If you want to talk about something, why don’t you talk about the truth? Wouldn’t that make a nice change?”
Pippa@pippastamor—@elenigirl22 I never said it! #getyourfactsstraight #askpippawhatshesaid #justiceforpippa
“Shit!” Pippa stared at her phone. That had been incredibly stupid, but the desire to—just this once—yell back had her finger hitting tweet before her brain could haul it back. Ah, well! It was done now. The only good thing about social media is it moved so fast, her tweet would probably get lost in the shitstorm within seconds.
Pippa checked her e-mails. She tried to squash the little surge of hope when she saw she had messages. National Enquirer was not giving up. Too bad she wasn’t going to play. She hit delete and tossed her phone back on the bed.
Where was Matt to take her mind off this shit when she needed him? Working and getting on with his life, and best she do the same. He hadn’t called in two days either, because they were keeping it—whatever it was—strictly easy.
Bing went her phone. Okay then, maybe not so lost. But did she really want to read the response?
Rachel@rachelmews—@pippastamor we love you Pippa #askpippawhatshesaid #justiceforpippa penny@pennyknowsbest—@pippastamor we know you didn’t say it. We miss you #askpippawhatshesaid #justiceforpippa
See, that was nice. Maybe everybody didn’t hate her after all.
Pippa@pippastamor—@pennyknowsbest@rachelmews thank you ladies, I appreciate the support #askpippawhatshesaid #justiceforpippa
That last hashtag had a nice militant ring to it. She’d spent all this time trying to find help behind the scenes, when it was the fans who really counted. The fans who would see you through.
“Pippa.” June’s voice, strident and demanding. “You better get your ass down here.”
Would it kill June to say please? She stomped over to her door, then stomped back and snatched up her phone. Following the sound of voices, she entered the salon.
June’s craggy face was creased into a frown.
Phi sat on the floor in front of the treasure armoire, and rocked. Back and forth, back and forth, her shoulders heaving as she sobbed.
“What the hell happened?” Pippa threw June a glance as she ran to Phi.
Her grandmother was tiny, sunken in her arms. Phi was so much larger than life it was difficult to think of her as vulnerable.
“I dunno.” June twisted her fingers together. “I came in here to clean and found her like that.”
Pippa tightened her arms around Phi’s shoulders. “What is it, Phi?”
“It’s gone.” Her face a mess of smeared makeup and tears, Phi held a velvet box in her clenched fingers. “They took my fob watch.”
Pippa pried Phi’s fingers open and took the box from her. It was empty. The circular indentation in the velvet stared up at her accusingly. The fob watch, another favorite treasure, given to her by Prince Rainier of Monaco with the royal coat of arms etched beside the message on the back. Gone.
A surge of lava-hot rage roared through Pippa. How dare they touch Phi’s treasures? Take them from her as if they didn’t mean a lifetime of achievement and accolades. A life spent bringing the gift of her voice to people all over the world.
“I didn’t touch it.” June stuck her chin out.
Pippa didn’t give a shit about placating June. Someone had put their hands on Phi’s stuff and it ended. Now. Today.
“She had it the other day.” June took a cautious step closer. “I picked it up in her room and put it back.”
“Is that true?” Pippa gentled her tone with Phi.
Her grandmother sobbed in earnest. Her false eyelashes drooped over her eyes, mascara gummed in the skin folds. “I don’t know.”
“I saw it.” June’s voice grew more confident. “Right beside her bed. I put it away. Straight away.”
“Why?” Phi’s shoulders shook so hard, it was difficult to contain it.
“I don’t know, darling.” Pippa stroked the knots of her spine. “But I’m going to find it, Phi, I promise you that.”
* * *
It took hours to settle Phi into bed with her restorative scotch. She kept looking at Pippa with big, green eyes and asking “why?” Pippa would give her right arm to have an answer for her. It didn’t make any sense and it was so wrong it made her teeth ache.
Phi was loud, flamboyant, and a real handful, but she was also one of the kindest people on the planet. She rescued horses, dogs, chickens, and people. All gathered under her protective wing and treated to her special brand of wonderful. When Pippa last checked, the Diva had her feathered purple eye mask on and snored softly. Phi would sleep till morning. The rest
orative scotch was a generous triple.
Another trip to Nate was in the cards. This had to stop. But before then, she wanted to make sure of a few things.
It felt disloyal to make the call.
“Agrippina.” Matt’s voice hummed down the line, and shivered across her nerve endings.
“I need to ask you something.”
Matt’s voice changed timbre as he sensed her mood. “What is it?”
“It’s Phi.” Dammit, she was going to cry. It made her so angry to see her grandmother hurt like this. “More of her treasures have disappeared.”
“My guys?” Matt was alert and tense.
“Can you vouch for them?” Pippa got it in quickly before he went down the wrong track.
He growled down the line. “Pippa, I wouldn’t send anyone over there who I didn’t trust. I’ll check with the guys anyway, but as far as I know, they only went into your room.” He sighed. “What the hell is going on in that house?”
“Someone is taking her stuff. Matt?” This was so wrong. Phi was as sharp as a tack, but she had to ask. “Do you think she could have misplaced them?”
“Phi.” He paused. “Maybe.”
“I’m worried, Matt.” The idea of losing Phi to senility throbbed raw and painful in her chest. “I need to search this house, top to bottom. Just to make sure she hasn’t misplaced them. You know—”
“I’ll be right over.”
The phone went dead in her ear. Pippa changed her shirt to a nicer one, drew the line at changing into a sexier pair of jeans, but lost the battle not to freshen her makeup. Or put perfume on. Matt liked to bury his face in her neck and draw in deep breaths. Shit, she was twisted. Her grandmother was in crisis and she was thinking sex.
It didn’t take him long. He rapped gently on the kitchen door.
“She’s sleeping.” Pippa let him into the house. He stayed on her heels, big and radiating warmth and comfort. “I don’t want her to know I’m doing this.”