Private Affairs

by Tori Carrington

  “Sugar…” Penelope held up her hands. “On second thought, no. I don’t want to know.” She moved down the counter. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  Her grandmother looked around. “Yes, I can see that. They’re just knocking down the door.”

  “The internet, Nana. The internet.”

  “Sure. Okay.” She twisted her lips. “A body knows when it’s no longer welcome somewhere.”

  If that were the case, then she would have left five minutes ago.

  “I’ll just go over to the diner and see what new gossip is circulating.” She waggled her brows. “Who knows? It might just have to do with you.”

  7

  OKAY, ON A SCALE FROM one to ten, this idea perhaps didn’t rate the high nine that Penelope had hoped.

  She sat in a back booth at O’Brien’s Pub, trying to ignore the way everyone watched her. It was a day not unlike every other day in her life, but for reasons she would prefer not to pursue, the buzz of gossip seemed to be following her around town.

  So she didn’t go to the pub often. It didn’t mean she didn’t come here at all. She took an occasional meal here, as did everyone else in town at one time or another.

  But now that Palmer was in town…

  She realized what the gossips would make of her choosing a remote booth in the darkest part of the pub and hit her knees on the table as she got up quickly. She limped to a table more in the middle and sat down, smiling at the waitress who watched her curiously. “I think I like this one better.”

  Great. Just great. If they weren’t gossiping about her already, they would be now. Although, she’d rather they discuss her musical-booths bit over any speculation about her and Palmer.

  She moved her glass of soda around on the damp napkin and looked at her watch. She’d gotten there ten minutes early. Which meant that he should be getting here—

  “Hi.”

  She looked up to find him standing next to the table.

  If the place had been buzzing before, now it was downright quiet.

  The lunch crowd had pretty much moved on, leaving the small handful of regulars that lingered at the bar, a couple of men at a front booth, and the waitress and bartender. None of them made any secret of their interest in her and Palmer.

  “May I?” he asked, gesturing toward the empty seat across from her.

  “Sure, yes, yes. Sit.”

  She forced a swallow of soda down her tight throat. Let them talk. A little town gossip was better than being somewhere alone with Palmer where he could easily exploit her raw feelings for him.

  The problem was, his sitting opposite her made everyone else fade quickly into the background…and the public setting didn’t make her any less aware of him or her knee-melting reaction to him.

  “So…” he said, giving her that half-grin that set the butterflies in her stomach to fluttering. And when paired with his own expression of surprise, as if he’d just realized something, they might as well have been alone in the gazebo, because Penelope knew that if he leaned across the table to kiss her, she’d kiss him back. And more.

  She broke eye contact. He wouldn’t lean across that table. Not here. Which is exactly the reason why she’d chosen the meeting place.

  Now if only she could remember why.

  “Thanks, um, for coming,” she said.

  He waved for the waitress. “Have you eaten yet?” he asked.

  “Huh? Oh. No.”

  He placed an order for two house specials. Penelope didn’t bother to ask what it was. No matter what was put in front of her, she wouldn’t be able to touch a bite of it. Not considering what she had to tell him. That sat like a boulder in the middle of her throat.

  “I’m glad you called,” he said.

  She squinted at him.

  “I’m getting the feeling that I’m not going to feel the same way by the end of the conversation.”

  She tried for a smile, but failed. What she had to tell him would set his world on its ear.

  Which made it doubly obvious that she had picked the exact wrong place.

  How could she possibly dump what she had to say in his lap in a pub? Within the earshot of what would amount to the entire town by the time the handful of patrons gained access to a phone?

  “I don’t know if this was such a good idea,” she whispered to herself.

  He leaned forward and touched her hands where they cupped her glass of soda. “Any reason for me to get to see you is a good reason, Penelope.”

  She searched his face. “Is it? I’m not so sure you’re going to think that way later.”

  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

  She slid her hands out from under his, incapable of clear thought when he was touching her.

  “Look, Penelope, I want to apologize for last night…”

  Was it really less than twenty-four hours ago that she’d practically crawled onto his lap in the gazebo? Wanted him so badly she’d thought she’d spontaneously combust if she couldn’t feel him?

  Impossible. Incredible.

  She cleared her throat. “That’s okay.”

  He chuckled and sat back. “That was convincing.”

  “Sorry. It’s just that…”

  It was just that once she had a chance to say what she had to…well, he wouldn’t have that friendly look on his face.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for, um, us to see each other…” she began.

  “Because of the sheriff?”

  “What? Oh. You mean Barnaby.” Her frown deepened. She’d forgotten about him. Not good. What did that say about their situation? Nothing that she hadn’t already known, really. But it didn’t make things any easier.

  “No…I mean, yes,” she said.

  Penelope took a deep breath and then released it, her shoulders finally relaxing. “Is it your mission in life to make things difficult for me?”

  His grin widened.

  “Thought so. Well, then. You’ll be very happy to hear that you’re succeeding admirably.”

  The waitress brought their meals. And much to her chagrin and amusement, the beer-battered fish and chips looked very appetizing.

  Accepting that she had picked the wrong place to break such serious news, and understanding that it had waited fifteen years and wouldn’t change if she shared it today, tomorrow or next week, she rethought her plan.

  If she also was more than reluctant to change the way he was looking at her now—as if the sun rose and set on her and he’d like nothing more than to lean across the table—she wasn’t owning up to it.

  “So,” she said, “what sort of work brings you back to Earnest?”

  It struck her as odd that she hadn’t asked him the question last night. She supposed the reason was that she already had secondhand knowledge of his plans. He was working with some Greek tycoon who had a grudge against the Metaxas family to bring some sort of green company to town.

  Still, from his expression, that didn’t tell the whole story.

  And she had the feeling that she wasn’t going to get it, either. At least not during this public lunch.

  But his frown did tell her one thing—he wasn’t happy with the way things were currently going.

  “I’m overseeing the start-up of a company I hope will replace some of the jobs lost.”

  “Overseeing? So you don’t…own it?”

  His chewing slowed. “No, I don’t own it. But I wish I did. I hit a road bump this morning that slowed me down considerably.”

  “Oh?”

  He shook his head as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It’s not something I can share right now. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the development.”

  “Nothing too serious, I hope?”

  He fell silent, looking into her face for a long moment. Finally, he smiled again. “Not anymore.”

  The front door opened and closed again. Penelope looked over to find that the older of the two Metaxas brothers, Troy, had just come in. H
e looked in her direction and she waved, but he must not have seen it. Instead, he walked to the bar.

  Why did she have the feeling that someone had called him to let him know that Palmer was there?

  Word had it that the Metaxas brothers were very interesting in having a sit-down with Palmer. When she’d heard the rumor, she’d wondered why they didn’t just go to the trailer on the outskirts of town where everyone knew Palmer had set up shop. It wasn’t like he was an unreasonable man.

  Now, she got the distinct impression that Troy Metaxas had done essentially what she had: waited until he could meet Palmer in a public place.

  PENELOPE LOOKED MUCH BETTER than she had when he’d sat down at the booth. The knowledge brought Palmer a measure of relief. She’d looked so pale, her face so pinched, he’d been half afraid of what she was going to say.

  But now she conversed easily, and was eating, which had always provided him with a deep sense of satisfaction and fascination. All people had to eat. It was just the way that Penelope did so gave him a front row seat to a scene of wonder.

  She’d told him once that she had to be the least sexy person alive. But he knew differently. It was there, her innate sexuality, everywhere. In the way she opened her full mouth to take in a French fry, stopping midway to cut it in two with her even, white teeth. In how her tongue darted out to slide along her bottom lip. The almost silent humming sounds she made, a deep murmur in her throat in approval of the food.

  She had no idea that she was, and had always been, the sexiest person he’d known.

  He suspected she thought otherwise because of her choice of clothes, typically loose-fitting with high necks. What she didn’t know was that the uninhibited way she swayed her hips when she walked…the slope of her shoulders and the tendency she had of tilting her head slightly as if tempting a kiss to the side of her neck…it drove him absolutely wild. And forget the way she absently rubbed her hand along her opposite arm when she was deep in thought, a long, slow caress that left him yearning to feel those fingertips touching certain areas of his anatomy.

  In fact, he was finding it nearly impossible not to reach out right now and haul her over the table until she was sitting in his arms.

  “So what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked, despite his fear that he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

  Where her attention had been solely on him since he’d arrived, now she gazed at someone else across the room. He glanced over, trying to place the dark-haired man who had just entered.

  “Someone else with whom I’ve got to compete?”

  She blinked at him. “What?”

  He nodded in the direction she’d been looking. “Someone else you’re dating, besides the sheriff?”

  “Palmer, I…” She twisted her lips and pushed her half-eaten plate of food away. “This isn’t some sort of competition.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  She merely stared at him.

  “So I’ve won then?”

  “What?” she asked again.

  “If this isn’t a competition, then it means I’ve won.”

  “I don’t understand your view of the world.” She took a deep breath, smiled, and then let it out. “I think I’m lacking a body part or two.”

  “As in a pair?”

  Her short laugh stirred something low in his belly.

  “You’re the one who brought up the male anatomy.”

  “For the purpose of demonstrating a point.”

  He shrugged. “I’m doing the same.”

  “I meant nothing sexual.”

  He held her gaze for a long moment, refusing to give ground. “Didn’t you? Let me get you alone for five seconds and I think I can prove differently.”

  She averted her gaze and a cloud seemed to eclipse her eyes. “Well, that’s never been a problem, has it?”

  He puzzled that one over. “I don’t know. I’m beginning to think that maybe it is…”

  She considered him with interest even as Palmer became aware that the man who had walked in was now heading in their direction.

  He looked up just as the unwanted visitor drew even with their table, prepared to tell him the lady was busy. Only he didn’t appear interested in Penelope. Rather, he was staring at him.

  8

  “YOU DON’T REMEMBER ME, do you?” the stranger asked.

  Palmer frowned. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t. Should I?”

  Penelope put her napkin down on top of her plate. “Palmer, this is Troy Metaxas. You remember. You two played football together at Earnest High.”

  Metaxas.

  Ah. Yes.

  Palmer rubbed the back of his neck as he stood up to shake the other man’s hand. “Troy. Yes, I remember now.” He tried for a grin. “Nice to see you.”

  Troy smiled but didn’t appear convinced. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I was hoping that once you were done with lunch perhaps you and I could talk.”

  Palmer raised his brows. “Here? Now?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  He glanced at his watch, then at Penelope, and said, “Sure. I can spare a few minutes or so.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Troy gestured toward the bar. “I’ll be waiting over there for you. Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

  Palmer got the exact opposite impression. And judging by the expressions on the other patrons’ faces as they openly watched the exchange, they felt the same way.

  “I’m sorry, Penelope,” Troy said, looking more genuine. “I hope I didn’t ruin your lunch.”

  “Actually, we were just finishing,” she said.

  Palmer quickly interjected, “I’ll see you over there in a few, Troy.”

  He sat down, providing both a period on the statement, and refusing Penelope easy escape.

  Troy took the hint and left them alone.

  Penelope leaned forward. “Well, that was awkward.”

  “Why should it have been awkward?”

  “Well, you know…”

  “Because we’re in competition with each other?” He grinned, bringing their conversation back full circle.

  Penelope’s mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

  “Couldn’t be more.”

  She picked up her purse and took out money.

  “I’ve got it,” he insisted.

  “Fine. Thank you.” She closed her purse and began to shift from her seat.

  Palmer reached out and grasped her hand. “But I’m not letting you go until you tell me why you wanted to see me.”

  “It can wait.”

  “Why? Because Troy Metaxas wants to talk to me?”

  “No.” She looked surprised. “Because two minutes after you sat down I figured out this is absolutely the wrong place to say what I have to say.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that. “So that means another meal, then?” he asked, trying to find something positive in her statement.

  “No. It means another meeting. But I have to decide where. And when.”

  “Name them and I’m there.”

  If it were possible for someone to both relax and tense up, he suspected he’d felt it then, just under her skin.

  She slowly removed her arm. “I’ll call you.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  PENELOPE WALKED QUICKLY from the pub, barely acknowledging the others with a smile. She stopped on the sidewalk outside in order to adjust to the hazy summer light, and to take a deep breath of the heavy, unfamiliar air.

  In fact, everything she felt was so foreign to her that she might as well have been on another planet.

  Where were the cooler temperatures she was used to in the Pacific Northwest? The refreshing breezes? The more moderate sunshine she didn’t want to run away from, but rather bask in? Better yet, the rain?

  And just where in the hell had she put her common sense? And how was she going to go about finding it?

  She looked up and down the mostly empty street and then crossed, walking up the half a block to h
er shop, her step quick, her heartbeat even quicker.

  Would there ever come a time when she didn’t feel so utterly…intoxicated by Palmer DeVoe? Mesmerized? When she could have a conversation and not think about sex and having it with him every single moment they were together?

  Would she ever be able to share with him the secret she’d kept between her and her grandmother and great-aunt for fifteen years?

  A car horn honked and she jumped, not having seen anyone in the road.

  “Sorry, Penny. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Barnaby said as he lowered the window in his squad car.

  “That’s okay. I’m not quite myself today.” She swallowed hard and clutched her purse to her side even harder. “It must be the weather.”

  He appeared doubtful as he looked at her and then across the street at the closed pub door. “I think we’ll all be glad when this…front moves on.”

  Why did she get the distinct impression that he wasn’t talking about merely the heat wave? And that he’d known where she’d been and who she’d been with?

  She curved her free hand around her neck and moved her damp hair away from the back. Of course, he would know. Just as the others had called Troy Metaxas, they’d probably called Barnaby as well.

  “Well, I’d better get back to the shop,” she said.

  “Call you later?”

  “I’ll talk to you then.”

  Suddenly, the weather wasn’t the only thing that was stifling.

  PALMER REMAINED AT the table for a long time after Penelope left. So far his homecoming wasn’t turning out exactly as he’d hoped. Which reminded him of the reasons he’d left in the first place.

  He frowned and got up from his seat, searching for where Troy was waiting for him. There. At the end of the bar. He headed in that direction, watching as the others who had gathered around Troy drifted away, leaving him alone by the time he approached.

  Palmer slid onto a stool next to him.

  “You want something to drink?” Troy asked.

  “Yes. I’m getting the feeling I’m going to need it.” He raised his hand and called for whatever was on tap. Neither of them said anything until pub owner Bobby Schwartz put an icy glass mug in front of him along with a bowl of mixed nuts and then moved back down the bar.