Matthew heaved a resigned sigh. She wasn’t going to give up. He might as well carry on the dull, getting-to-know-you conversation she was attempting to conduct.
“I have a condo in Pensacola, Florida,” he admitted. “I wasn’t raised there, though. My dad was a navy captain and I grew up on naval bases all over the world. My folks retired to Pensacola and I bought a place there, too, to be near them.”
He felt the familiar pain of their loss welling within him. He knew he wouldn’t continue living there now they were gone. He hated thinking about it, talking about it. Matthew frowned again. “So that’s a summary of my geographic history. Okay?”
“Okay.” Hannah smiled. “And I promise not to ask you a single thing about the weather there.”
The dinner went surprisingly well from then on. They found a lot to talk about and it wasn’t dull at all. Both had traveled extensively and been to many of the same places. They exchanged observations and opinions on cities and states and countries, sharing some, disagreeing on others. They talked music and movies, swapped political and celebrity gossip.
The conversation never flagged. They were still conversing animatedly as they left the restaurant and walked along Clover Street hand in hand. They paused frequently to gaze in the windows of the shops they passed. One was the Clover Street Drugstore.
“Do you mind if we go in for a minute?” Hannah asked. “I have to buy a couple of things.”
“Not at all. I might need something, too.”
They temporarily split up inside. Hannah bought a box of tissues to replace the nearly empty one at her shop, a roll of film and a box of coffee-flavored candies that her grandmother enjoyed. Matthew joined her at the cash register, carrying a small paper bag containing a purchase of his own.
“Candy?” Matthew was amused. “If you wanted more dessert, you should have told me. I‘d’ve sprung for another piece of strawberry cheesecake.”
“These are for my grandmother. She’s the one with the colossal sweet tooth. She goes through a box of these every other day.”
Hannah paid for the items and they strolled outside into the warm June night. There was a pleasant, offshore breeze and the humidity was comfortably low after the days of rain.
“I’m looking forward to meeting your grandmother,” Matthew said. “I still can’t believe she agreed to arrange a meeting with Alexandra Wyndham for me and to pretend to Bay that she knows me and my grandparents. I never even knew my grandparents.”
“Grandmother is so cool,” Hannah said proudly. “Don’t worry. She’ll invent a credible set of grandparents for you. She’s always ready for adventure or intrigue.”
“Or trouble. Which I imagine her granddaughter supplies in spades.” Matthew rolled his eyes heavenward. “What a pair! All you had to do was ask her to be your accomplice over the phone this afternoon and she immediately agreed. She liked the idea of a mystery writer pretending to be writing a history book in order to dupe the Wyndhams. She was delighted to go along with your harebrained scheme.”
“Our harebrained scheme,” Hannah corrected him. ”You’re the one who wants to see the Wyndham estate, remember? I just dreamed up your historical-society cover.”
“For which I owe you a great debt of gratitude. How shall I repay you?” They stopped near the steps of the picturesque Clover Town Hall. Matthew lifted her hand to his mouth, lightly kissing each fingertip.
Hannah’s nerves tingled excitingly but she tried to play it cool. “Well, when you write your book about the nasty society-boy-turned-serial-killer, don’t name one of his victims Hannah.”
“Done,” he agreed, then added, “I remember promising to give you copies of my books. Would you like them now?”
While she was nodding her head, he tucked her hand in his and started toward the boardinghouse. Tonight there would not be a spirited crowd of party guests to act as chaperones.... Her heart somersaulted wildly in her chest. She and Matthew talked as they went along, but she couldn’t remember a thing they’d said, not even moments after saying it.
The place was quiet when they entered, although the hallway and the big living room were well lit. Hannah cast a quick glance into the room. It had been returned to its normal postparty state. The knickknacks were back on the tables, the furniture, which had been pushed aside to create the dance floor, was back in position. The long aluminum tables set up to hold refreshments had been folded up and put away.
Hannah waved to Katie, who was sitting on the sofa and talking to two silver-haired women occupying the chintz-covered wing chairs by the fireplace.
Matthew nodded and smiled at Katie and the two elderly women. “The Porter sisters, Dotty and Ella,” He murmured to Hannah. “I met them this morning when they arrived for their annual six-week stay in Clover.”
“Good evening, Matthew,” one of the Porters called to him. “We were about to turn on the television and watch the ball game. You and your lovely young friend are welcome to join us.”
“That’s very kind of you, Dotty, but I’m taking her upstairs to see my etchings.” Matthew flashed a lascivious grin.
“Matthew!” Hannah admonished, blushing.
The Porter sisters laughed heartily. One of them gave Matthew a thumbs-up.
“I have to talk to Katie,” Hannah said desperately. Panicky qualms assailed her.
Matthew trapped her between the wall and his body. “What about?”
“I—I want to tell her that I was mistaken about your—identity. When I thought you were a cat burglar, I told her not to say anything about the Wyndhams to you. But since you’re not a common criminal after all, I wanted to let her know that she can answer your questions about them.”
“How much does Katie know about the Wyndhams?” Matthew was genuinely curious.
Hannah’s blush grew hotter. “Well, nothing really. But I think she—”
“Are you afraid to be alone with me?” His dark eyes laughed at her. He seemed to find her rapidly crumbling composure immensely entertaining. “Is that what this sudden fit of nerves is all about?”
“No!” Hannah was aghast. It was horrifying, the way he seemed to see right through her. And for him to know that she’d been reduced to a state of adolescent jitters was a most embarrassing plight. She cringed. “I—I just wasn’t expecting—” Half laughing, half scowling, she curled her fingers into a fist and aimed for him. “Your etchings?”
Matthew captured her fist easily, fitting his big hand around it. “Well, I couldn’t say my books, could I? We’re keeping my writing career a secret—at least with this crowd. We’ve invented a phony historical-writing career for the Wyndhams.” He shook his head ruefully. “This is starting to get confusing. We have too many stories to keep straight.”
“How does that old saying go?” mused Hannah. “‘What a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.’ Or something along those lines.”
Indeed, Matthew silently agreed. And she didn’t even know there was yet another tangle in the deceptive web—his true reason for being here. To investigate his seemingly incomprehensible Wyndham-Polk parentage. Matthew felt a flash of guilt for keeping that crucial secret from her. She’d proven herself to be trustworthy and a valuable ally. She deserved to know.
But he knew he wasn’t ready to tell her. He didn’t know if he would ever be ready to tell anyone.
“Come on, let’s go up.” He kept hold of her hand, leading her up the staircase. “I promise not to make a heavy pass at you, not unless you beg me to.”
“A snowstorm at the Strawberry Festival is more likely. You can give me the books and be back down to join the Porter sisters for the game before ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ is finished being sung.”
She followed him into his room, his hand still gloving hers. She would get the books and leave, Hannah promised herself. She stood in the middle of the room as Matthew switched on the bedside lamp, then walked calmly to the door and closed it.
“Do you want me to lock it?” His d
ark eyes gleamed with challenge.
Hannah fumed. He was testing her, baiting her. Trying to make her lose her cool all over again. Matthew Granger might not be a cat burglar but he was an incorrigible tease. A flirt. She gulped. He was a lot like her.
The sudden insight amused her. Now she knew exactly how to play this scene. “I don’t care.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Do whatever you want.”
“The perfect opening.” Matthew grinned. “If I were writing your lines, I couldn’t have come up with a better lead-in for me to say, ‘Suppose I want to take off your clothes, lay you down on that bed and—’”
“This is where you’d have to write that I say, ‘In your dreams, mister.’”
“I already did, in my dreams, sweetheart.” His eyes held hers, and there was not a trace of mockery or laughter there now, only a deep, passionate hunger. “Last night I had the hottest, wildest dream and you were the star.”
Color surged to her cheeks. Her thoughts seemed to scramble. She was having trouble making the rapid adjustment from lighthearted teasing to this intense urgency that made her tremble.
She watched, hypnotized, as Matthew kicked off his shoes, propped up the pillows and stretched out on the bed. “Come here,” he commanded huskily.
Hannah stood rooted to the spot, her pulse pounding in her ears. “I can’t go to bed with you, Matthew.” Her voice was little more than a breathless whisper.
“You think it’s too soon to make love? All right, I accept that.” He held out his hand to her. “Can you sit here with me for a while?”
The tip of her tongue flicked between her parted lips and traced their shape. “And just talk?”
“We can talk about anything you want.” His tone was as soft and smooth as silk. “Even the weather. I bet you have some great stories about Hurricane Hugo when it hit the Carolina coast.”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” It occurred to Hannah that if any other man on the face of the earth was lying on his bed, urging her to join him there for a chat, she would’ve already been out the door. But Matthew Granger was the man, and she was in no hurry to leave.
“I can’t wait to hear them,” Matthew drawled.
“First I want the books you promised me.”
“You know where they are.” Matthew pointed to his canvas bag lying in the corner of the room. “Help yourself.” He had already removed the birth certificate. Anyone in Clover could search his bag and find nothing to reveal his secret.
Remembering her earlier furtive hunt, Hannah rather sheepishly unzipped his bag. Among the collection of paperbacks, she chose the three titles authored by Galen Eden. On the inside back cover of each was a picture of Matthew himself, unsmiling as he stared into the camera with intense black eyes.
“It really is you!” she exclaimed.
“Did you doubt me? I’m crushed.”
“I didn’t doubt you. It’s just that I’ve never met anybody I know on the cover of a book. It’s exciting.”
“I was hoping it would have that effect on you.”
“Seduction by book cover?” Hannah laughed. “Do you often find yourself fending off literary groupies?”
“Not after they’ve seen this photo.” He cast a critical eye at the picture of himself. “I look like a vampire contemplating blood types.”
“The picture doesn’t do you justice,” Hannah said tactfully. “You are much better-looking in person.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, leafing through the three books. “Why do you have all those other writers’ books with you?”
“I like to check out the competition when I have the time. Don’t you visit other antique shops?”
She nodded her head, then stacked the three books on the small nightstand beside the bed. “Thank you for the books, Matthew.”
“My pleasure, Hannah.” He leaned toward her and slipped his hands under her arms. “Still scared?”
“I’m not scared of you,” she confessed in a quiet voice.
“Good.”
With one swift, deft movement, he lifted her across him so that she was lying, half on top of him and half beside him, on the middle of the bed.
Their eyes locked, and the impact was physical. Hannah basked in his dark gaze, her body feeling warm and fluid. She felt as if she were drifting in a sensuous dreamworld, and she loved it. Matthew twined his fingers through her hair, stroking the silky tresses. He arranged it around her head like a lustrous raven cloud.
“You are so beautiful,” he said softly.
The words meant nothing to Hannah. It was his warmly romantic tone and the sexy way he was gazing at her that thrilled her.
“I can’t believe we met just twenty-four hours ago,” she murmured, languidly reaching up to caress his cheek with her hand. “I feel as if I’ve known you forever.”
Certainly she had been waiting for him forever, Hannah realized with sudden clarity. Through countless dates and three engagements, she had been waiting for Matthew Granger. And now he was here, looking at her with hot dark eyes, bold with desire.
A soft explosion of sensual need made her feel warm and swollen and achy. A wild and wanton recklessness careened through her. She had waited and waited, for years she had waited, joking her way through the propositions, slapping away eager, sweaty hands, enduring kisses that bored her, slipping furtive glances at her wristwatch while waiting to go home to dream about the man who would awaken the voluptuous passion slumbering within her.
She’d finally found him! Hannah gazed at Matthew with shining gray eyes. His kisses stirred her in a way she’d never before experienced and she yearned for the touch of his hands. Going home to her lonely bed was unthinkable. She wanted to stay here with him, talking and laughing...and loving.
Hannah was dazed by the force of the emotions surging through her. Her presence here in his bedroom took on the mystical aura of inevitability. Their meeting and this night had been fated, she decided. Matthew had been destined to come to Clover, just as her destiny was to be waiting for him when he arrived.
Just one tiny niggling doubt remained. There was a question she had to ask him, and if his answer was right, she would know...
“Do you do this all the time, Matthew?” Hannah bit her lip, trying to blink back a sudden rush of emotional tears. She succeeded, just barely.
He kissed her palm. “I’m not sure what ‘this’ is.”
Hannah quivered. “Giving copies of your books to women you’ve charmed into your bedroom. Inviting them to lie down and...talk.”
“Good grief, is that what you think of me?” Matthew bolted upright, insulted by the charge. “I’ve had relationships, but not one-night stands. I’m not one of those sleazy guys who hops into bed with any woman who crosses my path. As for the books, I usually don’t even carry copies around with me. The concept of handing them out as lures to impressionable young women strikes me as nothing less than reptilian. I only brought them here because—”
He broke off abruptly. How could be explain that he’d brought the copies to Clover because he’d had some stupid—and decidedly erroneous—notion that the man and woman who had created him might be interested in seeing their own son’s creations? What had seemed plausible while packing for this trip now struck him as pathetic.
He felt like an idiot. Considering who his birth parents had turned out to be, the very idea was laughable. Being a Polk, his father probably couldn’t read; being a Wyndham, his mother would shudder with distaste at his prole endeavors. In fact, both would probably recoil in shock and horror when he announced his existence.
Hannah stared at him. His answer was the one she wanted to hear, but the mysterious pain flickering in his eyes concerned her, intrigued her, too. She wondered what he was thinking but instinctively knew he wouldn’t tell her. He had retreated behind an impenetrable wall of reserve, closing her out.
She didn’t like this sudden emotional distance between them. She wanted to erase the private anguish that he wouldn’t share, to see his onyx eyes gleaming
with laughter again. Or flaring with passion.
Hannah made up her mind then and there. It was time. Tonight was the night. Impulsively she linked her arms around his neck and drew his head down to hers, touching her mouth to his, the pressure light but persuasive.
Matthew’s hand cupped the back of her head but he didn’t take over the kiss. He tried to evade it. “This isn’t a good idea, honey. You’re a sweet girl, and I’ve got to warn you that getting mixed up with me at this time in my life would be a big mistake.”
His warm breath caressed her lips as he spoke, making them tingle. Hannah wriggled against him, trying to get closer to the enticing heat of his body. “You’re a sweet man for warning me, but in case you haven’t noticed, we’re already mixed up.”
“Point taken.” He smiled in spite of himself. “Who could argue with that bit of—”
“I don’t want to argue about anything.” Hannah gazed deeply into his eyes. “Kiss me, Matthew,” she whispered.
She’d made up her mind, and there was no stopping her. Why should they wait any longer? She’d been waiting for him all of her twenty-six years.
“Does this mean they’ll be serving strawberries with snow at the festival this year?” Matthew asked lightly. He touched her cheek.
Hannah remembered their earlier conversation and smiled. “I didn’t beg you to kiss me. I ordered you to.”
Matthew was enthralled. He forgot that he couldn’t allow himself the luxury of falling under Hannah Farley’s intoxicating spell. How could he not take that beautiful, sultry mouth? He had been crazy to think he could resist her. Why had he even tried?
Opening his mouth over hers, he thrust his tongue deep inside. Hannah moaned, clutching at him and responding in kind to the urgent strokes of his tongue, to the rapacious demands of his lips.
His hand closed over her breast, gently kneading. Hannah encouraged him with a sigh of pleasure. His fingers drew her nipple into a taut nub that was visible through the shirred cotton of her dress. He deepened their kiss as she shoved the thin straps of her sundress over her shoulders, then yanked the bodice down to her waist. He quickly disposed of her pale violet strapless bra.
The Engagement Party Page 12