The Matchmaker's Plan
Page 11
Peyton hated the fact that she was giving Connie what she wanted, and yet felt a sickening, abysmal pride at having, at last, done something that pleased her mother. “I love Matt,” she said, and for a moment it felt like the truth. “That’s why I married him. Please don’t turn this into some lurid sacrifice I made for your sake.”
Connie laughed. “You’d be a fool not to love him, dear. He’s absolutely perfect. You’re the envy of every single woman—and several married ones—here tonight, including me. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted for you.”
He was everything she’d ever wanted for herself. Her daughters were simply a means to an end. “I didn’t marry Matt for you,” she replied succinctly.
“Oh, I know you didn’t, sweetie. You did it for the baby…and Matt did it because he can’t afford the scandal of having fathered an illegitimate child. In his position, he has to be careful about what others think.” Raising the glass, Connie tipped it in a silent toast. “I don’t care why or how you trapped him into this marriage, Peyton. But don’t mess this up. The Danville connections will give Scarlett all the social advantages your father and I can’t. This is going to be great for her.”
“And it won’t do you any harm either, will it?” Peyton snipped off the words, angry with her mother, Matt, everyone. She wasn’t a calculating manipulator like Connie. She hadn’t set out to get pregnant. She hadn’t trapped Matt into this marriage. She’d never wanted to give Scarlett anything more than the chance to form her own values and make her own choices.
“I’ve never been shy about saying what I want, Peyton. You’ve done a wonderful thing for all of us…providing, of course, that Matt is actually the father of that baby.” She held up a hand. “Don’t. I know you’re outraged by the idea, but it’s a question that will come up, Peyton. People being what they are. You may as well get ready for it.”
She was too angry, too upset to speak, but Connie had no problem filling in the gap with an even more offensive observation. “And, honestly, I doubt it matters, because if he married you to avoid the scandal of illegitimacy, then he’ll do anything to avoid admitting you hoodwinked him into claiming a child that isn’t even his.”
The anger boiled over then, spilling hot and acidic through Peyton’s veins. Her stomach roiled from the stress, and the sickness came in a wave. She couldn’t fight it down, hard as she tried and, spinning on her heel, Peyton raced to the ladies’ room.
“I SEEM to have lost track of my wife,” Matt said.
“Happens to me all the time,” Ivan responded. “Ainsley’s right here one minute, spinning away like a yo-yo without a string the next. I’m just happy she always comes back to me.” He clapped Matt on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. Peyton’s around here somewhere. She may even be in on the rescue.”
Matt raised his eyebrows in question. “What rescue?”
“Ainsley has a plan to rescue Andy. It’s some sort of big surprise.”
“With Ainsley, everything is a big surprise.”
“You’re one to talk,” Ivan said. “You managed a major surprise this week, yourself. Even Ainsley didn’t expect an elopement.”
“That was the idea. We wanted a quiet wedding and we’d never have had it if we’d told anyone we were getting married. You know how my sisters are. They’d have been in the big middle of planning a wedding extravaganza before the words were out of my mouth.”
“Good point. Plus, there’s no telling what your new mother-in-law would have planned.”
“She wants to redecorate the house as a wedding present.”
“Danfair? You’re kidding.”
Matt shook his head, still scanning the crowd for a glimpse of Peyton’s dark hair and the shimmer of her blue gown. “I came close to tossing my new mother-in-law out the door this afternoon.”
“You mean she was there when you got home?”
“With a crew of designers. Luckily, Peyton got to her before I did and convinced her they needed to leave. It was all I could do to remain civil.”
This time, Ivan was left shaking his head. “I don’t know how that pushy woman ever managed to produce a sweetheart like Peyton. Ainsley is crazy about her and, I’ll confess that if I wasn’t so full-moon loco about my wife, I might have a bit of a crush on her, myself. She’s definitely worth the aggravation of putting up with a less-than-desirable set of in-laws, don’t you agree? Well, of course you do.” Ivan grinned. “You married her, after all.”
“Yes,” Matt said. “I did.” His gaze skirted the dance floor, searching for a glimpse of blue. Instead, he saw Connie watching him from across the room and, when she caught his eye, she lifted her glass in a salute. He passed right over her, as if he hadn’t noticed, saw Miranda and Nate, his cousin Scott, and his wife, Molly. He saw Bryce and Lara Braddock talking with Bryce’s father, James and his wife, Ilsa…who was actually responsible for all this matchmaking nonsense, but who was such a lovely lady it was hard to find any fault in her. He saw Andrew reaching for his crutches, and George Millston’s daughter—Matt couldn’t remember her name at the moment—trying to help. Andy didn’t look as if he needed help and Matt was certain he didn’t want any. But—Rachel! That was her name—looked determined to help him nonetheless. Matt continued his search for Peyton, but still didn’t see her anywhere and felt a prick of concern.
“Wow!” Ivan muttered beside him. “Would you look at that?”
That was the young woman standing with Ainsley by the entrance. Of course, knowing how crazy in love Ivan was, his wow could have been meant for his wife. But it was the woman with her who actually deserved the attention. Hayley Sayers looked like a movie star—one of the current crop of incredibly cute ones—with her red hair razored into a sassy style, her moss-green gown dipping low enough to reveal that she did, indeed, have breasts, the fabric clinging just tightly enough to show off the rest of her slender but impressive shape—a fact that would have been hard to guess from her usual attire. Matt had seen her only a couple of times in the several months since she’d gone to work as Andy’s assistant. But her customary baggy jeans, T-shirt, no makeup and truly awful hairstyle hadn’t offered a hint that she could look like this. And the way Andrew talked about her, Matt had thought his brother viewed her as an assistant with potential, but little more than background, a shadow when he needed one in a picture, someone to help tote his equipment or hold his camera while he sought the best angle for a shot.
But whatever Andy’s true feelings, everything was about to change.
Courtesy of Ainsley, their own personal matchmaker. She wouldn’t be happy until all her siblings were married, no matter what their own desire might be in the matter. Getting Andrew to recognize an introduction of possibilities was the reason for Hayley’s dramatic transformation. Ainsley had helped create the same kind of stunning makeover with Peter Braddock’s wife, Thea. Except this metamorphosis proved more startling by far.
Matt glanced over at Andrew, who had made his escape from Rachel and didn’t yet realize he was a bull’s-eye and was only seconds away from being struck with the dart of possibilities. The Apprentice Matchmaker does it again, Matt thought, feeling a little sorry for his younger brother. The poor guy didn’t stand a chance.
“Isn’t she something?” Ivan’s voice was thick with pride and, this time, there could be no question who he meant.
“Yes,” Matt agreed. “Your little matchmaker is really something. I don’t think I can stand here and watch Andrew get blindsided, though. I’m going to look for Peyton.”
He circled the dance floor and had just reached the other side, when the deejay announced, “Folks, it’s almost that magic hour. Get your noisemakers ready and your lips puckered. The new year is only minutes away.”
“And you still owe me a dance from this year.”
A light touch on his arm stopped him and Matt turned to look down at Jessica, who laughingly tugged him toward the dance floor.
“I’ll have to give you a rain check,” he said.
He didn’t, but he knew she wouldn’t let it drop. She wanted what she wanted and she didn’t give up without a fight, however genteel her tactics. So he gave in gracefully and danced with her. “You look lovely tonight, as always, Jessica. Where’s Jon?”
“He’s here somewhere,” she answered with a pretty shrug. “Probably flirting like mad with someone. Already over the legal limit.”
“On flirting or alcohol?”
She smiled up at him in a way he knew would beguile most men.
“Both, I imagine. My husband is quite the charmer when he’s drunk. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize until after the wedding that I’d never seen him sober.” She edged closer, her body curving suggestively into his as they made a turn. “I can’t talk about this…problem…with just anyone, Matthew, and I don’t know what I’d have done this past year if you hadn’t been there to listen. I hope Peyton will understand that you and I have a special sort of friendship.”
Under the cover of an extra dance step, he reestablished a respectful distance between his body and hers. He’d actually never considered Jessica a particular friend. She was a co-worker and, by the very nature of their positions, they spent a great deal of time together…much of it social. She had hinted at her husband’s drinking problem, but nothing she’d told him was a big secret. Everyone knew about Jon’s excesses, and Matt had always been careful to maintain a proper distance in his relationship with Jessica. Mostly because he suspected she wanted more than his friendship and he couldn’t afford any hint of scandal. Even groundless gossip about him having an affair with a married woman could have a negative effect on contributions and the Foundation’s mission. “Don’t give it another thought,” he said. “Peyton knows she has no reason to feel threatened by my relationship with anyone else. She’s not the jealous type.”
“Oh, well, of course not,” Jessica amended. “I didn’t mean to suggest she was. I just thought, since she and I have often been at odds, she might say something that would…affect your opinion of me.”
“I can’t see that happening, Jessica.”
The beguiling smile returned. “Good. I won’t worry about it then, and you and I will simply go on as we always have. Marriage doesn’t really change anything, after all.”
But she was wrong. Matt could see the truth in that. He felt the difference in himself already. He didn’t just think he ought to dance with Peyton, he actually wanted to dance with her, wanted to be where she was. No other woman held any interest for him. The feeling surprised him, but it felt pleasant, too. It was almost a new year, almost a new beginning, and he wanted to start it with his wife. Wife. What an extraordinary concept. “Sorry to cut this short, Jessica, but I’d like to find Peyton before—”
“Okay, folks, here we go. Ten…nine…eight…” The deejay started counting down the seconds and the crowd picked up the chant.
The music stopped to accommodate the excitement and Matt stepped away from Jessica to look for Peyton in the crowd…on the edges…near the doors. Where in hell was she?
“…three…two…one…Happy New Year!” Noisemakers, whistles, laughter and dozens yelling, “Happy New Year!” all hit the airwaves at the same moment, and Matt, distracted by his search, was surprised to find himself abruptly pulled into a kiss. A seductive, wanton and very determined kiss. He broke it off immediately, setting Jessica away from him and turning a deaf ear to her “Happy New Year, Matthew.”
He pushed through the merrymakers surrounding them, concerned about Peyton, certain that someone had noted the kiss, certain that Jessica had meant for it to be seen, and very much aware that it was Peyton he wanted to kiss.
PEYTON HAD SEEN THE KISS. Just as she’d left the ladies’ room, she’d heard the horns, whistles and a chorus of “Happy New Year!” “Auld Lang Syne” came blasting over the speakers, surrounding her in the nostalgia that came with the end of one year and the beginning of another. And then there, directly in her line of vision, was her husband kissing another woman.
No, not just another woman. Jessica.
Jealousy tore through her already shaky composure. She wanted to stride onto the dance floor and jerk him away, scream at him for being an idiot, humiliate him…hurt him. As seeing that kiss had hurt her. But making a scene would spoil the illusion they’d both—supposedly—worked all evening to convey. Not that kissing Jessica would do anything to promote the idea that Matt was completely devoted to his wife, but if Peyton behaved like a shrew, it would only make everything worse. She’d give vent to her frustration another time, but for now, she’d just have to pretend she felt so secure in his love, the sight of him kissing someone else was not a threat.
Then, in case she might have missed seeing it, Scarlett was quickly beside her to report. “Matt kissed that woman,” she said. “Why did you let him do that?”
“I was in the ladies’ room,” she replied tersely.
“Oh, so as long as you’re out of the room, he can kiss anyone he wants?”
“It’s New Year’s Eve, Scarlett, and people kiss perfect strangers at midnight. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“She’s not a perfect stranger and it means something. You should give him hell.”
Peyton agreed. Totally. And it galled her to be put in a position of having to defend him. Especially after the performance they’d put on all evening. But at least she owed Jessica no allegiance whatsoever. “You’re right,” she said tightly. “Jessica isn’t a stranger. She’s an opportunist, and there’s nothing she would enjoy more than to embarrass me tonight. I refuse to give her that satisfaction. Now, this discussion is over.”
“You mean you don’t care?”
“Scarlett,” she said on a sigh, “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“So you’re not jealous that your husband kissed a woman you detest?”
“I’m not jealous.”
“I don’t understand you, Peyton. You should be out there giving him a good hard kick in the—”
“Found you at last. I was beginning to think you’d left without me.” Matt’s voice came from behind her, caressed her with its husky tone, soothed her inner turmoil so easily it should have made her even angrier.
But instead, the heat of her anger transformed with a sizzle into ravenous desire. She wanted him, suddenly and forcefully. She wanted hot, breathless kisses and hungry hands on her body. She wanted to writhe naked beneath him, taste him with long, sweet licks of her tongue. The craving shivered inside her like a dark cloud, stirring warm winds and cold air to create a storm. Great. Just what she needed to make this horrible evening complete. “No,” she said firmly to the desire…but her voice came out shaky and vulnerable.
His hands, warm and strong, took her arms and turned her around. His smile could have melted a polar ice cap…which she wasn’t. Not by a long shot. Oh, no, she was on fire. Burning with the reckless attraction that had taken over her body and made her putty in his hands. Okay, so she wasn’t putty, either. More like molten lava. “Where were you?” he asked. “I was looking everywhere for you.”
“Hmmph,” Scarlett snorted, her voice low enough to carry only as far as Peyton’s ears. “He must have thought you were down Jessica’s throat.”
“Scarlett,” Peyton warned.
“Well, it’s true!” Scarlett flounced away, as offended and furious as Peyton wanted to be.
His glance followed her for an instant. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked.
Peyton sighed. Pretending took a lot out of a person. Especially a pregnant person. “She’s fifteen,” she said, falling back on the old airtight excuse.
“Then let’s not waste time talking about her. Not now that I’ve finally got you where I want you.” Smiling lazily, he pulled her into his arms as if he had nothing to apologize for, and tipped up her ch
in with one finger. “Happy New Year, wife.” He bent his head and kissed her soundly, thoroughly, tenderly, taking his time and letting the kiss linger in its own pleasure. The noise around them faded into the background, unintrusive and unimportant. The crowd melted from her consciousness. Matt was the only thing left in that heartbeat of a moment. His lips on hers the only reality, the heat of his body all the invitation her body required. She ached for his touch. Her heart cried out for tenderness, a show of respectful care. It had been a tense and stressful evening. She’d take whatever comfort she could find in him, even if he was only pretending. She let go of caring that he’d kissed Jessica. For the moment, she couldn’t care less if he’d kissed every other woman in the room before he came to her. She only cared that he was kissing her now. And that he kept on kissing her until she no longer cared if she could breathe.
But he pulled back, in what she chose to interpret as a fog of reluctance, and she was left feeling weak and clingy, staring up at him, bewitched and bewildered. “Can we get out of here now?” she whispered.
He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, kissed her again. Lightly. Sweetly. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard this year. Let’s go.”
She would have gone with him anywhere.
But she was grateful they were simply going home.
Chapter Seven
Matt tossed his keys on a table in the foyer and began looking through a stack of mail on the credenza. “Andrew is staying at the beach house for the time being,” he explained matter-of-factly. “He said he didn’t want to intrude on the newlyweds.”