by Sarah Hegger
Matt stopped her and stroked his finger down her cheek. “I know. We’ll do it quietly, and go and see Nate in the morning if we find nothing.”
“We?”
“We.” He gave a firm nod. “But, I don’t think we’re going to find anything here.”
“Really?” Pippa didn’t want to face the possibility of Phi getting forgetful, or losing her incredible mind. “Because she’s seventy-eight and—”
“Sixty-eight.” He smiled down at her. “The age on her bio and I’m sticking with it.”
He was such a good man. The sort of guy a girl could lean on. Her heart gave a little thump of “if only.” Enough of that! Pippa didn’t lean, and especially not on a man. “Where should we look first?”
They started with the kitchen. June kept things neat and orderly, and it didn’t take too long. They moved into the salon. Pippa checked the treasure trove one more time. Opening each of the treasures, just to be sure they weren’t put away in the wrong place.
Matt worked alongside her. He’d built the house and knew all sorts of strange little hidey-holes Pippa didn’t even know existed. Phi had built her drama into every inch of the Folly.
By the time they reached the third-floor attic, Pippa was grubby and exhausted. They couldn’t do Phi’s room with her in the house. She would have to find another time to get it searched.
“You could ask June to distract her,” Matt whispered as they tiptoed past Phi’s room. They needn’t have bothered. An act of God couldn’t wake the Diva. But they did it anyway.
“I don’t think I can. June has been with her for years, but someone is taking things from this house and I don’t know who it is.” Pippa couldn’t believe it could be June. Pleasant, the woman wasn’t, or even amicable, but she’d been with Phi for so long it made it almost unthinkable. Yet, stuff was disappearing and with no obvious suspects, she had to consider everyone.
He nodded. “I’ll start in the attic.” Blowing out a harsh breath, he opened the door to the attic stairs. “Why don’t you get us something to drink? It’s going to take some time.”
Pippa got them both a bottle of water and rejoined Matt in the attic.
Matt had called this one right. Phi threw nothing away. It all ended up in the attic, waiting for some needy soul. Phi had enough stuff up here to furnish a small house. Everything from furniture to pots and pans, stacked in pile after pile and covered with sailcloth. The dust clogged up her nose as they moved things around, and she sneezed.
“Bless you.” Matt looked up from going through the drawers of an old chest. Dust and sweat streaked his face. Damn, he totally rocked the workingman look. Pippa grinned at her own thoughts.
“What?”
“You’re a nice guy, Matt Evans.”
He pulled a face. “Two words a guy never wants to hear applied to him. Nice. Guy. You might as well go ahead and friend-zone me.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Looking at Matt, Pippa took a sip of water, her mouth dry from dust.
He quirked a brow at her. “Oh, really?”
What a terrible flirt! And thinking of flirts . . . “Tell me about Eric.”
“What do you want to know?” Matt lost some of his perk.
“Why doesn’t he come home more often?”
“My mother.” Matt bent to search beneath an old swan-shaped child’s bed. It had been hers back in the day. “At least, that’s my best guess.”
“Your mother?” Cressy Evans had followed her sons around like a shadow. Always there, always standing guard. More than one teenage girlfriend had run the gauntlet of Cressy and come out bloodied at the other end.
Matt shrugged. “She’s needy.”
Cressy was cling wrap. Pippa kept that to herself. Men and their mothers, a place you did not go.
“She used to drive Eric crazy. He took the first road out of here after college and built a life for himself in Denver. He does very well.” Matt pulled a face. “He does extremely well. When he first started, he lived in a house with five other guys, so he could afford to send money home to get Isaac and Jo through college.”
“Isaac went to college?” Forget good guy. Matt Evans needed canonizing. He’d raised his siblings after his dad’s death. Cressy went to pieces and Matt stepped in. And apparently, Eric, too.
“For all the good it did.” Matt gave a vicious twist to a cover and sent a cloud of dust into the air. Pippa hid her nose in her arm.
“Sorry, Isaac gets to me.” Matt’s hair was dull beneath a thin layer of dust. “He’s the smartest of all of us and yet he can’t seem to get it together enough to make something of his life. I haven’t a goddamn clue what to do with him.”
“And you have to do something?” Pippa gauged his reaction carefully. So far, Matt had been pretty open, but she was about to step right into his space. The sort of place only a real girlfriend went. She did it with her women on the show, but they had to take it—more or less.
Matt narrowed his eyes at her, his broad shoulders tight with tension. “Of course I do.”
“Isaac is a year or so younger than me, right?” A terse nod from Matt. “So, maybe it’s up to him to find that thing and do it.”
He stilled, and Pippa tensed, waiting for him to tell her to butt the hell out.
“You sound like Eric.” He huffed out a laugh. “Except Eric keeps telling me I have to get out of here and let them all sink or swim.”
Eric might be on to something. “Why don’t you?”
“Jesus.” He shook his head. “Try and picture that. My mother didn’t get out of bed for three weeks after my dad died. Didn’t even make the funeral. It took me another six months to get her out of the house.”
Leaving her son to organize a funeral and take care of the other children. At least Emily hadn’t done that after the sperm donor disappeared. Nope, Emily had launched into a frenetic “new beginning.” Pippa was starting to get why Phi had such a resentment for Cressy.
“Isaac.” He smacked his palms on his jeans, leaving dusty sprints behind. “Well, Isaac is stuck. And Jo.” He frowned and ran a hand through his hair. Dust motes hit the air behind him. He looked sad, and confused.
“She’s getting married, isn’t she?”
“Yup.”
“You don’t like him.”
He barked out a dry laugh. “He’s a musician.” Matt twisted his mouth around the word. “Who doesn’t play an instrument, have a band, or even write songs. Now he’s in Montreal, at the Jazz Festival to network and further his career.”
“Okay.” Pippa was getting a not-so-good picture here.
“And Jo paid his way there.” And there it was. “Fuck.” The word exploded on a soft breath. “I hate talking about this shit.” He strode to the small dormer window and stared into the night. “I could even accept the guy was a total loser if Jo was happy.”
Pippa closed the distance between them. She wanted to wrap her arms around those big, strong shoulders and ease some of the burden. He’d carried it a long, long time. It wasn’t her thing though. They weren’t a couple, or even a hookup. “How do you know she’s not happy?”
“Hey!” He spun to look at her. “You could help me out with something.”
“Okay.” Not if it involved Cressy she couldn’t. Cressy never missed a chance to give her the death stare.
“I went wedding dress shopping with Jo the other day, and she chose this dress . . . the ugliest dress I’ve ever seen. Couldn’t you like . . .”—he made a vague waving motion with his hand—“do your thing and get her a nice dress? One that makes her look as beautiful as she is.”
It didn’t sound like a dress was going to do for Jo what she needed, but this was in Pippa’s wheelhouse. “I could do that.”
A beautiful smile lit his face. “I know it’s only a dress, but maybe if she felt beautiful . . .” He shrugged. “I mean, it’s her wedding day. A girl should feel like a princess, right?”
“Right.” Such a good guy, with such a great, big heart in th
at gorgeous body. Men like Matt could almost make her believe in the happily-ever-after thing. She took his face between her hands and forced him to bend his neck a bit. “You are the nicest guy, Matt Evans.”
He curled up his lip in disgust.
Pippa laughed and pressed her mouth against his. “And you’re dead sexy, too.”
His arms came around her and tugged her closer. He hummed his appreciation against her mouth and sucked her bottom lip between his.
“And you kiss like a bad boy.”
“This is getting better and better.” He pressed his hips against her. His cock hardened against her belly as she pushed closer. He so had her number with this stuff.
“But you talk too much.”
That seemed all the invitation Matt needed to take over the kiss. His tongue plunged into her mouth, firm and demanding. And wonderful.
Pippa mated her tongue with his, savoring the taste and feel of him. She wanted him. Lust, pure and unadulterated, curled up from her belly and spread to her breasts and between her thighs. His hardness against her was a visceral reminder of their sexes, and Pippa relished every delicious difference. The way her breasts flattened against his chest. The cradle between her thighs where he fit so perfectly. His big hands almost spanning the width of her back.
He groaned and shifted his weight. His hand trailed beneath her shirt and found the skin of her back. Firm, slightly rough from working with them, his hands created thrilling abrasions over her skin. He slid his hand up to rest on the side of her breast.
Pippa twisted in silent demand. Heat shot through her as he cupped her breast. She filled his hand, pressing into it.
His touch sure and steady through the fabric of her bra. He brushed her nipple with his thumb.
God, it felt so good. Her knees buckled and she grabbed his shoulders for support. Her breast swelled as he played, eager for his touch, so sensitive she wanted to throw back her head and moan.
He pulled her bra cups down and bare palm touched naked breast. Hot and firm. His other hand slid into the back of her jeans to cup her ass. “I love you city girls with your tiny panties.”
Her tiny panties were drenched, and Pippa rubbed against his erection. Shit, he was even harder than before. They had to break the kiss to come up for air. Harsh pants filled the tiny space between their mouths.
“We can’t do this here.” The words came out with claws on them when every firing neuron she possessed was all for pushing him to the ground and riding him until the ache between her thighs went away.
“You’re right.” He took her mouth in another blistering kiss, plumping and squeezing her breast. “But you feel so fucking good.” His fingers slid into the crack of her ass. He dipped his knees to get the leverage needed to slide them into her heat. “Shit, you’re so wet.”
He tugged his hand free, and Pippa whimpered her objection.
Then his mouth was on her breast, sucking her nipple deep into his mouth, and his hands were on her jeans. The buttons popped and he slid his hand over her mound. His fingers dived under the tiny scrap of fabric and found her again.
She was just about there, when he slid between her wet folds, pushing a finger deep inside her, his mouth working her nipples.
“Oh God.” It ripped from her in a whimper as he played her clitoris, working another finger deeper inside her.
“Let me make you come.”
“Yes.” She gripped his hair as his fingers moved over her. Sliding through her wet heat easily, pushing her closer to the edge. Her knees gave as she came and he caught her against him.
Holy hell. Pippa melted against him in a happy heap as her legs had checked out. Best orgasm ever, and she still had all her clothes on.
Gently, he covered her nipples with her bra and lowered her shirt. He eased his hand away from her slowly.
Pippa cupped his cock through his jeans. He pulsed hard and thick in her hand.
Matt placed her hand over his, pressing her to him before taking it away.
She didn’t know if she could do the same for him, but she was damn sure going to give it a try. “But—”
“We can’t do this here,” he said. “But soon, baby, soon we’re going to do this and do it right.”
And it would be so good. Her sated body hummed low-level at the idea of their bodies moving together. “Soon.”
Chapter Twelve
Pippa checked in with Twitter while she waited for Matt.
The outpouring of love and support brought tears to her eyes. Tweet after tweet from people telling her how much they missed her, how they’d never believed what they had seen. It provided the salve she needed for the raw place left after all the scorn and hatred.
Matt didn’t waste any time collecting on his promise about his sister’s wedding dress. He called her first thing the next morning and arranged to pick her up in an hour. Nothing from any of her contacts. Who needed them anyway? She would make her comeback through her fans. Three hundred and twenty-eight people loved her, stood behind her.
Matt’s truck swung into the kitchen yard, right on time. He hopped out and strode toward her. She could stand here all day and watch that man move. The smile he gave her made her girl parts tingle. “You ready?”
“Yup.”
“I really appreciate you doing this. Jo almost lost her mind when I told her.”
Pippa stopped. “In a good or bad way.”
“A good way.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. So sweet and familiar, like they’d been doing this for years.
They had, sort of. “Okay.”
He opened the door for her.
Pippa stared up at the cab. Her skirt wasn’t designed for the graceful hopping in and out of pickups. It was much more of a being-handed-out-of-a-limo affair, hugging her curves to the knee.
Matt eyed the skirt, then the running board, and grinned. “Would it be totally screwed up if I told you how much I want to watch you wiggle and struggle to get in there?”
Dork! And how could you get mad at this man and stay that way? “You’re a pig, now give me a hand.”
He went for her ass. Of course he did. Why mess with eating the salad when the steak was on the table? “I don’t think so.” She gripped his hand in hers. “We’ll do this the civilized way.”
He helped her into the truck, grumbling all the way. “Great skirt.” He shut the door and trotted around to the driver’s side. “I’ve always had a thing for your legs.”
As if that was news. Pippa laughed because he always checked out her legs.
“So, Jo’s on board with this?” Her gaze strayed to the pull of denim across his thighs. Who knew a girl could get a bit silly about thighs? And forearms. A girl could lose herself in the play of sinew and muscle between his elbow and his wrist. Not to mention the thick ridges of vein curving beneath his tanned skin.
“Totally.” He turned out of Phi’s drive and onto the highway. Only three cars passed them on their way into town. Matt did the finger-lift hello each time. So different from her LA life where it was wall-to-wall, I-want-to-kill-you traffic all the way. Where, most of the time, nobody really cared if you lived or died. “I owe you for this.”
“What did you have in mind?” Ask me, ask me! Her libido yelled its head off.
“Dinner?” He turned to her with an eyebrow lift. “Like a proper date? Tomorrow night?”
As opposed to a hectic make-out session in his truck or the dusty attic. “Somewhere nice?”
“You got it.” He smiled at her and turned back to the road.
“A place I can wear heels and not feel overdressed.”
His smiled broadened. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
A date. She was in the mood to celebrate. A chance to get all her war paint on, wear something pretty. What girl didn’t love that idea? Not this one, for sure.
“For the record, I like you fine in jeans.” His long fingers tapped the steering wheel. “But seeing you all dressed up, that’s good, too.”
Oh, he was going to get it, no holds barred, all out tomorrow night. Everything from her underwear to her jewelry.
His phone rang, and he gave her an apologetic grimace as he answered. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”
Did the woman have psychic powers or something?
“Isaac?” A frown creased Matt’s face. Pippa didn’t want to think it, but he looked hot when he was pissed.
The frown deepened and radiated down to a clenched jaw. Make that very pissed. “What do you mean he didn’t go into work?” He listened for a while, his body still and tense. “No, I can’t come now.”
Cressy’s voice came as a tinny mumble over the phone, but the pitch was an unmistakable whine.
“I’m busy,” Matt said. “Going to meet Jo. At Bella’s.”
The way he parceled out information intrigued her. Matt was keeping secrets from his mother. Then again, if Cressy were her mother, Pippa would have left town and not come back. Not too far from what she had done, actually.
“I don’t know why she didn’t ask you.” Matt switched his phone to the other ear and turned into Main Street. “You’ll have to ask Jo that.”
More whiny tone from the other end of the phone line set Pippa’s teeth on edge.
“Because I’m not going alone,” Matt said. This should be good. Pippa stared out the window, but kept her ears perked.
“Pippa,” he said. “Yes, Turner, but she calls herself St. Amor.”
Cressy squawked on for a bit before Matt cut her off. “Because it’s her stage name. I don’t really care why. If she wants to be called that, we call her that.”
Pippa laughed, on the inside. Deep, deep down on the inside. Good luck to Matt’s future wife, whoever the poor woman might be. She remembered Cressy from the LDS socials held at the big community center attached to the church. Cressy used to have this way of sidling into the social and staring down any girl who dared dance with one of her sons. Strangely, Jo had been pretty much left to run wild.
“Gotta go, Mom.” Matt hung up on Cressy mid-whine. “My mother.”
“I got that. And she’s not happy.”
Matt shrugged and pulled his face into an easy smile, which didn’t quite reach his tawny eyes. “She’s not happy about a lot of things. Isaac is at home, and not going to work.”