by Gina Wilkins
“Case—”
“Only a kiss, Maddie,” he murmured, inching toward her. “That’s not too much to ask on a date, is it?”
With him, it could well be too much to ask. She wasn’t at all sure she would be content just to kiss him. Not that she wanted to admit that, of course. She lifted her chin. “Only a kiss,” she repeated.
“Of course.” He gave her a suspiciously piratical smile, his teeth very white in the darkness, and deftly unfastened her seat belt. Before she could change her mind, he drew her into his arms.
Case took his time before kissing her. First, he brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek. Then he ran his thumb across her lower lip, very slowly. He shifted closer, so close his breath warmed her skin, his mouth hovering so near hers she could almost taste him. Almost.
It was Maddie who closed that small space between them. Unable to wait any longer, she pressed her mouth to his.
Even then, Case held back. The kiss was slow, gentle. Chaste. Very much a tentative, first-date kiss. And it made Maddie want to scream in frustration.
She knew exactly how deliciously Case could kiss when he made an effort.
Maybe the old Maddie would have been content with this sweet, utterly safe kiss. The new one was more bold, more daring. She closed her arms around his neck and slipped her tongue between his slightly parted lips.
As though he’d been waiting for that subtle invitation, Case suddenly crushed her mouth beneath his, his arms closing around her so tightly she could hardly breathe—which didn’t matter, because she’d suddenly forgotten how.
He kissed her deeply, hungrily. Kissed her so heatedly, she melted against him, aching for more.
His hand swept her back, lingering at the curve of her waist, the gentle flare of her hip. He stroked her thigh, and she could feel the heat of his touch even through the washed-soft denim of her jeans. She shivered, imagining how his work-roughened palms would feel on her bare skin.
Case allowed her to draw a breath, but kissed her again before she could clear her mind. He cupped her face in his left hand for a moment, tilting her mouth to a new angle, and then he moved the hand downward, stroking her throat, her shoulder. Her breasts.
She shuddered, feeling the response course through her. And then she strained closer to him, ignoring the gearshift that was poking uncomfortably into her abdomen.
Somehow he found his way beneath the hem of her T-shirt. His palm was hot against her stomach, as deliciously rough as she’d imagined. Slowly—oh, so slowly—he slid his hand upward.
Her bra was little more than a frivolous swath of lace. He found the front clasp and released it with a skill she would frown about later. When she could think again.
His thumb circled her hardened nipple, making Maddie gasp into his mouth.
“Maddie.” His voice was hoarse, his lips moving against hers. “If you knew how badly I’ve wanted to touch you like this. How many nights I’ve lain awake, wanting you.”
She laid a hand on his chest, and felt his heart pounding beneath her palm. Pounding as heavily, as feverishly as her own. Weakened by the evidence that he was as deeply affected by their kisses as she, she lifted her mouth to his again.
This time, Case kissed her so thoroughly, so hungrily that she thought she’d go up in flames, right there in the passenger seat of his car. Her breath caught in her throat, and her pulse raced so rapidly she grew dizzy with reaction.
She wanted him. She’d wanted him in Cancú, and she hadn’t stopped wanting him since. She’d never wanted any other man this badly. This desperately.
It was fear, more than prudence, that finally brought Maddie to her senses. What was she doing? She’d promised herself she wouldn’t let Case do this to her again. Made a vow that she wouldn’t be swayed by his practiced kisses and seductive caresses. And yet, here she was, plastered all over him again, ready to do almost anything he asked of her. And all she’d agreed to was a kiss.
She tore herself out of his arms. “It’s time for you to take me home now, Case,” she said in a voice she hardly recognized as her own.
She thought for a moment that he was going to argue. She saw the denial flash across his face. And then he drew a deep, unsteady breath, cleared his throat and nodded. “All right,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”
Relieved, she tucked her T-shirt back into the waistband of her jeans and fastened her seat belt, scooting as far away from him as possible within the confines of the car. Case sent her a chiding look, but didn’t say anything as he started the engine.
* * *
LIGHTS STILL BLAZED in the windows of the Carmichael farmhouse. Case walked Maddie to the door, but didn’t ask to be invited inside. “Will you see me tomorrow?” he asked.
“I have to work tomorrow.”
He frowned, but nodded. “All right. Later in the week, then.”
Maddie drew a deep breath. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
His frown deepened. “It’s just a date, Maddie.”
She made a face. “Right. Like it was ‘just a kiss’ at the lake,” she muttered.
“I stopped when you asked,” he reminded her. “I’ve promised you I won’t ask for anything more than you want to give.”
He was going to break her heart again, she thought in despair. She knew it, and there didn’t seem to be anything she could do to stop it. “Call me later in the week,” she said wearily, hoping she’d recover her willpower in the meantime.
He nodded. “All right. Good night, Maddie.”
“Good night, Case.”
He moved toward her, but she slipped into the house before he could kiss her once more. She practically closed the door in his face.
She simply couldn’t handle another kiss right now. Not while she was still a trembling mass of jelly from the last one.
She heard Case hesitate outside the door, as though tempted to barge in after her. And then she heard his footsteps crossing the porch and going down the steps to the sidewalk. Moments later, his car started with a muted roar of the powerful engine, which quickly faded to silence.
Maddie sagged against the door, resting her forehead against the unyielding wooden surface for a long moment. Sounds finally penetrated her foggy mind—the television, voices in the den, water running in the kitchen.
She straightened and ran a shaky hand through her hair, restoring it to some semblance of order. And then she pasted on a bright, utterly fake smile and went to join her family.
7
LUNCHTIME BUSINESS at Mike and Maddie’s seemed better than usual on Tuesday. It didn’t take long for Maddie to figure out why. Everyone wanted to know about the mysterious man who’d brought a buzz of excitement to Mitchell’s Fork.
“Is it true he’s a government spy?” one woman wanted to know.
“No, he wasn’t a spy. He was in law enforcement. DEA,” Maddie explained.
“I heard he’s buying the Fielding place to open a bed and breakfast. They say he’s going to build some sort of tourist attraction here,” a longtime resident said disapprovingly.
“He isn’t opening a bed and breakfast,” Maddie replied with strained patience. “If he buys the Fielding place, it will be as a private home.”
“Kind of big for a single man, don’t you think?”
Maddie was annoyed with herself for flushing. “That’s really none of our business, is it?”
“I heard he and Jackson Babbit got into a fistfight over you,” the town barber, and most avid gossip, whispered to Maddie. “Right in front of your whole family.”
“That’s ridiculous. And totally untrue,” Maddie snapped, rapidly losing all tolerance for the townsfolk’s curiosity. “Now, Hank, are you going to order lunch, or not? I have other customers waiting.”
Hank ordered the daily special in a disgruntled mumble. Maddie knew he was more annoyed that she hadn’t given him any juicy details than he was offended by her curtness.
Maddie was relieved when Jill was the
next customer to enter. “It’s been horrible,” she murmured as she led her tiny, dark-haired friend to a corner table. “You wouldn’t believe the rumors!”
“Of course I would,” Jill answered cheerfully. “I started most of them.”
Groaning, Maddie motioned Jill into a chair. “This is no time for your sick sense of humor,” she chided. “I’m dying, here.”
Jill chuckled. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist. But I do know the rumors. I heard them all at the bank this morning.”
Maddie shook her head in disgust. “It just makes me crazy. You would think the people in this town would have better things to do than sit around gossiping about my personal life—or about Case’s, for that matter.”
“C’mon, Maddie, Mitchell’s Fork isn’t the only town obsessed with gossip. Why do you think those supermarket tabloids sell so well, even though everyone knows that what they report is a bunch of bologna? If a mysterious stranger comes to town, people are going to want to know more about him. They’re curious. It’s only human.”
“It’s annoying.”
“So, whoever said humans weren’t annoying?”
“I guess you have a point,” Maddie admitted with a reluctant smile. “What will you have for lunch?”
Jill had just finished placing her order, when she noticed the man standing in the doorway to the dining room. “Wow,” she murmured. “Let me guess—that’s Case.”
Maddie whipped her head around. And then gulped. “Yes,” she sighed. “That’s Case.”
“Oh, heavens. Are you sure you don’t want him, Maddie? ‘Cause if you don’t, I am most definitely available.”
There was no mistaking the lust in Jill’s voice as she eyed Case’s hard, lean body. Maddie glared at her friend. “You don’t even know him.”
“What’s left to know?” Jill asked with a shrug. “He’s gorgeous. He apparently has money. He’s planning on settling down in a beautiful house and starting a family. Unless he has a kinky thing about wearing women’s underwear, I can’t see a problem. Come to think of it, that would be okay, too, as long as he buys his own and leaves mine alone.”
Maddie made a sound of disgust. “You really do have a warped sense of humor, don’t you? And keep your voice down, for Pete’s sake. Next thing you know, there’ll be a rumor going around about Case being a cross-dresser or some such non—”
“Looks like I got here just in time,” Case said from directly behind Maddie’s shoulder. “What the hell are you talking about, Maddie?”
Maddie blushed crimson. Jill only laughed.
All too aware that they were the center of attention in the crowded dining room, Maddie swallowed a groan. “Case,” she said resignedly. “This is my former best friend, Jill Parsons. Jill, Case Brannigan.”
“I can’t tell you how nice it is to meet you,” Jill crooned, extending a hand to Case and ignoring Maddie’s description of her.
Case held Jill’s hand a bit longer than Maddie deemed strictly necessary. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
“Are you here for lunch?”
“Yes.”
“Dining alone?”
“Yes.”
Jill smiled. “So am I. Won’t you join me?”
Maddie opened her mouth in instinctive protest. Before she could speak, someone called out from a nearby table, “Hey, Maddie. We’re ready to order here.”
“Thank you,” Case said to Jill, already moving toward the empty chair at her table. “I would be delighted to join you.”
Maddie tried again. “But—”
“Maddie,” her father said, passing quickly as he attempted to make up for her inattention to their customers. “Table four’s getting impatient.”
“Don’t let me keep you from your work, Maddie,” Case urged with a wicked smile. “Just bring me whatever Jill’s having.”
Since her name was now being called from more than one direction, Maddie couldn’t linger any longer. She threw one last seething glance over her shoulder as she moved away. Heaven only knew what Jill would say to Case, or vice versa, she fumed. It wasn’t that she was jealous—of course she wasn’t jealous, why should she be? It was only that she didn’t trust either one of them an inch, even though Jill was truly her best friend and Case was—
Well, she couldn’t say just what Case was at the moment. She only knew she wasn’t thrilled at seeing him talking so intimately with another woman, even if it was only Jill.
* * *
THOUGH JILL HAD to get back to the bank, Case lingered over coffee and dessert until the restaurant closed at two. It would reopen at five for the dinner hour. Maddie usually took advantage of those three hours to catch up on paperwork, shopping or other errands. Today, she had other things on her mind.
Hazel and the other lunch-hour waitress had already left. The kitchen staff was busily cleaning up lunch dishes and beginning to prepare for dinner under Mike’s close supervision. Satisfied that everything was running smoothly, Maddie approached the table where Case still sat, sprawled in his chair with his fifth cup of coffee, obviously waiting for her.
“The restaurant is closed,” she said.
He nodded. “Are you free for a while now?”
“Why?” she asked bluntly.
“I was hoping you could get away for an hour or so. There’s something I want to show you.”
“All right.” She told herself she agreed for one reason only—she wanted to know what Jill and Case had discussed so avidly during lunch. Every time she’d looked their way during the busy shift, they’d had their heads close together. Jill had seemed to do most of the talking, but Case had certainly listened intently enough. And he’d smiled at Jill in a way that had made Maddie’s hands curl into fists.
I’m not jealous, she assured herself. Only suspicious.
Case looked a bit surprised by her easy acceptance. He stood quickly, as though afraid she would change her mind. “Let’s go, then.”
She motioned toward her short denim uniform. “I have other clothes in the office. I could—”
“You look fine,” he assured her. “Do you need to tell anyone you’re leaving?”
Maddie glanced toward the kitchen door to find her father watching her with a smile. “No,” she said wryly. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
Case all but hustled her out of the restaurant. Maddie didn’t even think to ask where he was taking her. She was too busy trying to decide how to ask what Jill had said to him.
* * *
MADDIE WAS only mildly surprised when Case drove into the long, winding driveway of the Fielding house. “This is what you wanted to show me?”
He nodded. “Jill mentioned that you’d never been inside.”
“No. I’ve seen the outside, of course. But—”
“I picked up the key this morning. I thought you might like to look around.”
“Case—”
“No pressure, Maddie,” he promised with a sideways glance at her. “I just want you to see it.”
She sighed.
The house really was beautiful, she thought as Case parked in the circular driveway. Though it could stand a coat of paint, the siding was a pale yellow, the delicate gingerbread and other trim done in cream. The oval stained-glass window above the front porch reflected the afternoon sun, adding a bright touch of color to the Victorian facade.
She had to admit that she was curious about the inside, even though she couldn’t help questioning Case’s motives for bringing her here.
Maybe because Jill had already mentioned it, the first thing Maddie noticed about the house’s interior was the strange color scheme. The carpeting was coral—a bit too orange for Maddie’s taste—wall coverings and paint an odd mélange of pastels. It took her a moment to look beyond those details to the beauty of the floor plan.
“Case, it’s wonderful,” she breathed, noticing how much light streamed in through the oversize windows, how the glossy dark woods of trim and floors reflected that light even through the d
ust of a year’s neglect. She pictured the octagonal dining room papered in a deep floral, with a crystal chandelier hanging from the bare wires that indicated where another chandelier had once hung. Obviously, the Fieldings had wanted to take that one with them. There was room for a long table, a buffet, a china cabinet.
“Nice place to entertain, isn’t it?” Case asked.
“Lovely. Yet, oddly enough, the Fieldings were a very reclusive couple. They rarely had anyone over.”
“There were only the two of them living here?”
Maddie nodded. “For the most part. Their sons and grandchildren visited occasionally.”
Case shook his head. “This house was designed for a family,” he said.
“Yet you’re thinking of buying it just for yourself,” Maddie couldn’t resist saying.
“Ah, but I’m hoping to fill it with family,” he reminded her.
She turned away to hide her blush and went off to explore the rest of the house.
Except for the colors, everything she found delighted her. She couldn’t help exclaiming over each newly discovered detail, speculating aloud about what colors would best showcase the home’s features and what furnishings would best suit the shape and size of each room. Case followed with a slight smile, occasionally nodding agreement or asking advice. “I’m not very good at decorating,” he admitted. “I’ve only lived in prefurnished places before.”
“You mean, you don’t own any furnishings? No paintings or knickknacks or anything?” Maddie asked, unable to imagine someone his age not accumulating any personal mementos.
“No. Only my clothes and my car,” he replied. “Looks like I’m going to have to start from scratch. Dishes, cookware, linens—hell, I don’t even know what I’ll need.”
She turned to him, standing in the middle of the empty master bedroom. “Case, are you sure you want to go through with this?” she asked worriedly. “Are you aware of how much responsibility there is in maintaining a place like this? It must be four thousand square feet—”