by Gina Wilkins
Jackson was vain and shallow and materialistic, but he was more fun than anyone Maddie had ever dated from Mitchell’s Fork. He knew how to laugh, how to play, how to give a woman his complete, undivided attention—if only for a short while. Maddie had been out with him several times in the past three or four months, and she’d thoroughly enjoyed each date. She’d never intended their dates to be more than a pleasant diversion—and maybe a way to shock the town a bit, since no one had ever thought her the type of woman to catch Jackson’s wandering eye. Which, of course, she hadn’t been before she’d returned from Cancé a changed woman.
She’d made it abundantly clear to Jackson that she was leaving town soon and had no intention of going to bed with him first. He had good-naturedly retorted that he would do everything he could to change her mind before she left, but he’d never done anything that had made her uncomfortable.
Maddie had sensed that Jackson rather enjoyed having an easy, uncomplicated friendship with a woman without the demands of a sexual relationship—something that must be a novelty for him. Of course, she was sure he would heatedly deny the suggestion if she should ever voice her suspicion aloud. After all, he had his hard-earned reputation to consider.
“Jackson,” she said again. “I—um—”
“Don’t tell me you forgot our date,” he said chidingly, his dark eyes glinting with devilish amusement.
She had, actually. She and Jackson had planned to take in a late movie after Grampa’s birthday party. How had it completely slipped her mind? As though she even had to ask, she mused ruefully, glancing sideways at Case.
Case was glaring at Jackson with a scowl that should have disintegrated the other man where he stood. It was, quite obviously, loathing at first sight. Maddie gulped.
Jackson didn’t seem to notice the antagonism directed his way. He flashed one of his high-voltage smiles, nodded a friendly greeting that included everyone he knew in the room, then stepped toward Case with an outstretched hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said blandly. “I’m Jackson Babbit. And you are...?”
Case barely touched Jackson’s hand with his own. “Case Brannigan. Maddie’s—”
“Friend,” Maddie said quickly, loudly.
“Fiancé,” Case finished succinctly.
Jackson’s dimples deepened. “It seems we have a difference of opinion here.”
“A temporary condition,” Case assured him.
“Very temporary,” Maddie asserted, giving Case a glare of challenge.
Some men might have been daunted by the tension between Maddie and Case. Jackson only grinned more broadly. “Well, Maddie,” he said. “How about it? Is our date still on?”
She tossed her head. “Of course it is. I’m ready to go.”
“Maddie,” Case growled, taking a step toward her.
She met his eyes squarely. It took more courage than she would admit to face the rather dangerous temper growing in his narrowed gray eyes. “Yes, Case?”
He must have been aware, as she was, that there was nothing he could do now, in front of her family. Their gazes held for a long, taut moment in which no one in the room moved. And then Case backed down, reluctantly. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
She just managed not to exhale in relief. “Maybe,” she said with an airiness she was far from feeling.
She quickly kissed her grandfather, said good-night to the others as a group, slipped her hand beneath Jackson’s arm and all but dragged him from the room.
In the hallway outside the dining room, she paused for a moment to remember how to breathe again. She could hear snatches of the conversation resuming in the room she’d left, all seemingly centered on her.
“Don’t know what’s gotten into that girl lately,” Nettie grumbled. “She—”
“I don’t know what she sees in that Babbit boy,” Anita exclaimed. “Why, he—”
“I like her new hairstyle,” Kathy mused inconsequentially. “I wonder if—”
“How come you didn’t just bash his teeth in, Case?” That, of course, was from Jeff.
“Jeff! Honestly, what am I—” His mother chided him with long-suffering exasperation.
“Maddie?” Jackson asked patiently. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes, Jackson. Please.” She didn’t like the hint of desperation in her voice, but she had to get out of there. Immediately.
* * *
TO MADDIE’S intense relief, Jackson didn’t even mention Case during the short drive to the movie theater. The film they’d selected was a comedy, starring two actors who topped Maddie’s list of favorites. She was able to put the stressful events of the day out of her mind, for the most part, and enjoy the silliness on screen. A two-hour escape from worrying about the confrontation awaiting her the next day.
A couple of fast-food restaurants were the only local establishments open after the late movie on that Sunday evening. Jackson pulled into the parking lot of the Dairy Queen. “Want some ice cream?” he asked.
“Sure. Why not?” She’d been on a strict low-fat diet since returning from Cancé, but tonight she felt like splurging. After all, she hadn’t been able to eat more than a bite of birthday cake earlier, not with Case and her family watching her so closely.
Jackson ordered banana splits and coffee for both of them. Maddie didn’t bother to point out that he hadn’t asked what she wanted. He did things like that all the time, and though Maddie didn’t usually let him get away with it, tonight she was too distracted to protest.
“So,” he said, as soon as they were seated with their desserts, “tell me about Case Brannigan. Why does he think he’s your fiancé?”
“Probably because I said I would marry him,” Maddie muttered.
Jackson didn’t even blink. “That might have led him to reach certain conclusions.”
She had to smile at his dry comment. “I know. But I changed my mind.”
“Certainly a woman’s prerogative—or a man’s, for that matter.”
“The problem is that Case apparently hasn’t changed his. Even though he left me standing at the altar in Cancé, damn it. I don’t know if the redhead really is just a business associate or if she was more—and I really don’t care, of course—but I won’t be a convenient little woman for some burned-out ex-spy coming in out of the cold. He’s got this really strange, idealized image of small-town life, probably because he never really had a family or anything, and I certainly don’t blame him for wanting one, but if he thinks I’m just going to give up all my dreams and all my plans to set up housekeeping with him, even though he’s never even said—”
Suddenly aware that Jackson was quietly eating his ice cream and listening attentively to every rambled word, Maddie stopped and flushed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know that diatribe couldn’t have made much sense.”
“On the contrary. I found it very enlightening.”
Maddie winced. “Um—”
“So, you aren’t going to marry him?”
“No.” She spoke a bit too quickly.
“I don’t know, Maddie. He looked like the persistent type to me.”
“I can be persistent, myself,” she insisted. “Trust me, in a few weeks, Case will be so bored with Mitchell’s Fork that he’ll be begging to escape. You know what it’s like around here, Jackson. You’ve said yourself that you’d leave if you hadn’t worked so hard to make your business a success.”
Jackson shrugged, a bit sheepishly. “Mitchell’s Fork is okay. A little slow, but I do my best to liven it up occasionally.”
Maddie frowned. Jackson had encouraged her to break the straitlaced bonds she’d grown up with, had been the only one to support her when she’d expressed a desire to get away for a while, see new places, try new things. She’d always believed him when he’d said it was only a matter of time until he broke away, himself. Had it just been talk? Was he really as deeply rooted here as so many others seemed to be?
As though sensing her questions, Jackson chuckled. “Do
n’t look at me that way, Maddie. I haven’t suddenly turned into Joe Average. Soon as I get enough money stashed away to support me in style for a while, I’m out of here. I was thinking of heading for Tahiti first. Maybe Bimini. You know, where the sun always shines and—”
“‘—the women don’t wear tops,’” Maddie quoted him. She’d heard him say it many times. Had she been naive to believe that his words had been anything more than idle fantasizing?
“You got it,” he said cockily.
She was beginning to have second thoughts about her lack of discretion in unloading on Jackson. She didn’t know what had suddenly gotten into her. “Jackson, what I said...about being stood up at the altar? Maybe we could just, um—”
“Consider it forgotten.”
She smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”
“Of course, you have to promise in return not to mention that I’ve been thoughtful and considerate. I have my wicked reputation to consider, you know.”
She shook her head reprovingly. “A reputation you have very carefully cultivated. I still don’t understand why you’re so determined to convince everyone you’re a selfish, shallow playboy, when there’s really a nice guy lurking under that flashy exterior.”
“Hey, quiet!” He made an exaggerated show of hastily looking around to make sure no one had overheard her words. “Someone might hear you. Truth is,” he continued, turning back to her with a wry smile, “I really am basically selfish and shallow. On very rare occasions, I can overcome those natural tendencies when I make an effort to do so. But if I did it more often, everyone would start to expect it of me all the time, and it’s just too much trouble on a regular basis.”
Maddie laughed. “Honestly, Jackson. You’re incorrigible.”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
“You’re also a very good friend.”
He groaned and rubbed his forehead with one beringed hand. “Isn’t that like saying a blind date had a nice personality? I’ve been trying to seduce you for months and all you can say is that I’m a good friend. I must be slipping.”
“You? Impossible.”
“Sounds promising. Does that mean you’ll go home with me when we leave here?”
“No.”
He sighed heavily. “Definitely slipping,” he grumbled.
“Eat your ice cream, Jackson,” she said, dipping a spoon into her own. “It’s melting.”
“If only my charm had the same effect on you.”
Maddie laughed, and was grateful to him for the diversion.
* * *
JACKSON DROPPED Maddie off at her house at just after midnight. He walked her to the front door, brushed a kiss over her mouth and warned her to watch out for “lurking fiancés.” And then he left, whistling beneath his teeth and acting as though he was amused by the entire evening.
Maddie shook her head, locked the front door behind her and tiptoed through the quiet, sleeping house to her upstairs bedroom.
Only then did she fall apart.
Her knees buckled, making her land on the bed with a soft thump. She hid her face in her hands.
What a day! How could she have known when it started that Case Brannigan would stroll back into her life, apparently intent on taking up where he’d left off six months ago?
At least now she had an explanation for his hasty departure from Cancé. But could she believe a word of it?
It sounded so daring and romantic—called away to rescue an old friend from terrible villains. A desperate, stealthy rescue that ended with the hero seriously wounded, in danger of never walking again. That same valiant hero struggling nobly to recuperate, making a vow to himself that he would not return to his bride an invalid.
It sounded, Maddie decided with a scowl, too daring and romantic to be real.
Obviously Case had been injured. Badly injured. His weight loss, the lines of pain carved into his face, the awkward limp—he couldn’t have feigned those signs if he’d wanted to. But had it really happened the way he’d described? How did she know he was what he’d claimed to be?
When it came right down to it, Case Brannigan was a stranger to her. A stranger she’d almost married in a moment of weakness. And now he was back—but Maddie had changed. She wasn’t sure whether she’d lost her courage, or found it, but she wasn’t going to be such an easy mark for him this time. She wasn’t taking everything he said on faith. She had no reason to believe his exotic tales, no basis for accepting his claim to want a normal, domestic future with her.
For all she knew, he was a con man. An adventurer. She’d heard about the type on “Geraldo” and “Donahue.” Maybe he thought her half of the restaurant was worth more than it really was. Maybe he had some other scheme up his well-tailored sleeve. If so, he could forget it.
Maddie had fancied herself in love with Case on that beach in Cancé, even though he’d never actually said the words to her. During the past six months, she’d convinced herself that it hadn’t been love. Merely infatuation. Maybe even a healthy case of lust.
Unfortunately, whatever it had been, she still felt it. She’d hadn’t been able to change her feelings as easily as she’d changed her hair color, lost those extra pounds or traded her glasses for contact lenses.
Which didn’t mean she couldn’t change them. It was just going to take a bit more effort.
She had no intention of making a fool of herself again over the enigmatic Case Brannigan.
5
CASE SPENT most of the day Monday looking at houses for sale. He had two reasons for doing so. First, he had no intention of staying any longer than necessary in the Spartan little hotel room that was the best Mitchell’s Fork had to offer. And second, it gave him something to do until he judged the time right to approach Maddie again.
He might not have been so patient with her had he not watched her with Babbit the night before. Had he suspected that Maddie’s feelings for the guy were getting serious, Case might have been tempted to do something desperate. Like throwing her over his shoulder and whisking her to the nearest justice of the peace. But he’d watched them together at the fast-food restaurant, and then at her door when the date ended. He’d seen enough to convince him that Maddie and Babbit were not intimately involved. Not even close.
They’d never known he’d been watching them, of course. Case had lurked in enough shadows, secretly monitored too many clandestine meetings, to give away his presence to a couple of unsuspecting amateurs.
Maddie would probably be furious with him if she knew he’d followed her last night. But tough, he thought with a grim smile. As far as he was concerned, she’d given herself to him on that beach in Cancú—verbally, if not physically. And Case Brannigan protected what was his.
The real estate agent eyed Case’s cold smile with visible trepidation. She was the jittery type, a meek little matron who sold houses for extra money, Case guessed. She’d probably never encountered anyone quite like him before.
He made an effort to give her a more natural smile. “This is more like what I had in mind,” he said encouragingly, gesturing at the grounds surrounding them as they approached the third house she’d described to him. The other two had been all wrong, one too small, the other too boring. This place, however, had definite potential, Case decided as he moved toward the front door, the relieved-looking agent tagging nervously at his heels.
He supposed the style of the house was Country-Victorian. It nestled into a rolling lawn, with huge shade trees all around, and flower beds that would probably be beautiful later in the summer. A wraparound porch decorated with gingerbread and turned-post railings led to double front doors with leaded-glass windows. He liked the little details on the outside. Pale yellow siding. Cream-painted trim. Fish-scale shingles in the gables. Cedar-shake roof. Lots of interesting angles and curves. Even an oval stained-glass window set over the front porch—probably in the upper section of an open foyer, he guessed.
Yeah, this one looked interesting. Much the way he’d envisioned a
“real home” looked. “How many bedrooms?” he asked, noticing the house looked fairly big.
“Five,” the agent squeaked. “The master suite is on the first floor, and the other four are upstairs. And there are four full baths and two half baths. The house is only ten years old, and the grounds cover seven acres. There’s a little pond at the back of the property, and a nice back lawn that would be perfect for a swimming pool, should you decide to add one.”
Case nodded. Five bedrooms sounded good. He wondered how many of them Maddie would be interested in filling with kids. A board squeaked underfoot as he climbed the stairs and crossed the wide porch. He paused to test it, and decided it was sound.
“There are probably a few maintenance chores to attend to,” the agent said, sounding scrupulously honest. “It has been empty for almost a year now.”
“How come?” Case asked, remembering to show at least minimal suspicion.
“It’s—um, rather expensive for this area,” she admitted. “It’s larger and more expensively built than most homes around here. And, of course, heating and air-conditioning costs are higher because of the size.”
Case relaxed. Money was not a problem. As for maintenance, that didn’t bother him, either. All part of being a home owner, he’d heard. Of course, he’d never owned one, himself. He’d grown up in fleabag apartments, institutions and cheap-rent houses, and had spent the last fifteen years living out of a suitcase, for the most part. But he still remembered those childhood fantasies—a family, a dog, a nice home in which to entertain the friends he would have liked to have had.
“Big place,” he said as he followed the agent into a two-story foyer that led to a sweeping, curved staircase. He could see into large, empty, curtainless rooms that opened off the foyer. A bookcase-lined library opened to his left, and a large, octagonal, window-walled room to his right. He hazarded a guess that it was a formal dining room. He mentally filled it with a big table and a gleaming chandelier. Of course, he pictured himself at the head of that table, Maddie at his right.
He’d never hosted a dinner party, he realized absently. He wondered if it was too late to learn how.