Micah watched her unload the bags at the curb, then wave to a neighbor across the street. He knew she’d be smiling and his brain filled with her image. Deliberately, he turned his back on the window, shut the image of Kelly out of his mind and walked back to his chair. “Yeah, she’s pretty.”
Sam laughed. “Feel the enthusiasm.”
Oh, there was plenty of enthusiasm, Micah thought. Too much. Which was the problem. “I’m not here looking for a woman, Sam. I’m here to work.”
“That’s just sad.”
He had to agree. “Thanks. So why’d you call me again?”
“Damn, you need to take a break. You’re the one who called me, remember?”
“Right.” He pushed one hand through his hair. Maybe he did need a damn break. He’d been working pretty much nonstop for the last two months. No wonder this place was starting to feel claustrophobic in spite of its size. “That’s a good idea. I’ll take a drive. Clear my head.”
“Invite the landlady along,” Sam urged. “She could show you around since I’m guessing you’ve hardly left that big old house since you got there.”
“Good guess. But not looking for a guide, either.”
“What are you looking for?”
“I’ll let you know when I find it,” Micah said, and hung up.
* * *
“So how’s our famous writer doing?”
Kelly grinned at her neighbor. Sally Hartsfield was the nosiest human being on the face of the planet. She and her sister, Margie, were both spinsters in their nineties, and spent most of their days looking out the windows to keep an eye on what was happening in the neighborhood.
“Busy, I guess,” Kelly said, with a quick glance over her shoulder at the second-story window where she’d caught a glimpse of Micah earlier. He wasn’t there anymore and she felt a small twist of disappointment as she turned back to Sally. “He told me when he moved in that he would be buried in work and didn’t want to be disturbed.”
“Hmm.” Sally’s gaze flicked briefly to that window, too. “You know, that last book of his gave me nightmares. Makes you wonder how he can stand being all alone like that when he’s writing such dark, scary things...”
Kelly agreed. She’d only read one of Micah’s seven books because it had scared her so badly she’d slept with a light on for two weeks. When she read a book, she wanted cheerful escape, not terror-inducing suspense. “I guess he likes it that way,” she said.
“Well, everybody’s different,” Sally pointed out. “And I say thank goodness. Can you imagine how boring life would be if we were all the same?” She shook her head and her densely-sprayed curls never moved. “Why, there’d be nothing to talk about.”
And that would be the real shame as far as Sally was concerned, Kelly knew. The woman could pry a nugget of information out of a rock.
“He is a good-looking man though, isn’t he?” Sally asked, a speculative gleam in her eyes.
Good-looking? Oh, Micah Hunter was well beyond that. The picture on the back of his books showed him as dark and brooding, and that was probably done purposefully, considering what he wrote. But the man in person was so much more. His thick brown hair was perpetually rumpled, as if he’d just rolled out of bed. His eyes were the color of rich, dark coffee, and when he forgot to shave for a day or two, the stubble on his face gave him the air of a pirate.
His shoulders were broad, his hips were narrow and he was tall enough that even Kelly’s own five feet, eight inches felt diminutive alongside him. He was the kind of man who walked into a room and simply took it over whether he was trying to or not. Kelly imagined every woman who ever met him had done a little daydreaming about Micah. Even, it seemed, Sally Hartsfield, who had a grandson as old as Micah.
“He is nice looking,” Kelly finally said when she noticed Sally staring at her.
The older woman sighed and fisted both hands on her hips. “Kelly Flynn, what is wrong with you? Your Sean’s been gone four years. Why, if I was your age...”
Kelly stiffened at the mention of her late husband, automatically raising her defenses. Sally must have noticed her reaction because the woman stopped short, offered a smile and, thank heaven, a change of subject.
“Anyway, I hear you’re showing the Polk place this afternoon to a couple coming in from California of all places.”
Impressed as well as a little irked, Kelly stared at the older woman. Honestly, Kelly had only gotten this appointment to show a house the day before. “How did you know that?”
Sally waved a hand. “Oh, I have my ways.”
Kelly had long suspected that her elderly neighbors had an army of spies stationed all over Banner, Utah, and this just cemented that idea. “Well, you’re right, Sally, so I’d better get going. I still have to shower and change.”
“Of course, dear, you go right ahead.” She checked the window again and Kelly saw frustration on the woman’s face when Micah didn’t show up to be watched. “I’ve got things to do myself.”
Kelly watched the woman hustle back across the street, her bright pink sneakers practically glowing against all of the fallen leaves littering the ground. The ancient oaks that lined the street stretched out gnarly branches to almost make an arbor of gold-and-red leaves hanging over the wide road.
The houses were all different, everything from small stone cottages to the dignified Victorian where Kelly had grown up. They were all at least a hundred years old, but they were well cared for and the lawns were tidy. People in Banner stayed. They were born here, grew up here and eventually married, lived and died here.
That kind of continuity always comforted Kelly. She’d lived here since she was eight and her parents were killed in a car accident. She’d moved in with her grandparents and had become the center of their world. Now, her grandfather was dead and Gran had moved to Florida, leaving the big Victorian mansion and the caretaker’s cottage at the back of the property to Kelly. Since living alone in that giant house would just be silly, Kelly rented it out and lived in the smaller cottage.
In the last three years, the Victorian had rarely been empty and when it wasn’t rented out by vacationers, the house and grounds had become a favorite place for weddings, big parties and even, last year, a Girl Scout cookout in the huge backyard.
And, she thought, every Halloween, she turned the front of the Victorian into a haunted house.
“Have to get busy on that,” she told herself. It was already the first of October and if she didn’t get started, the whole month would slip past before she knew it.
Halfway up to the house, the front door opened and Micah stepped out. Kelly’s heart gave a hard thump, and down low inside her she felt heat coil and tighten. Oh, boy. It had been four long years since her husband, Sean, had died, and since then she hadn’t exactly done a lot of dating. That probably explained why she continued to have this over-the-top reaction to Micah.
Probably.
He wore a black leather jacket over a black T-shirt tucked into the black jeans he seemed to favor. Black boots finished off the look of Dangerous Male and as she admired the whole package, her heartbeat thundered loud enough to echo in her ears.
“Need some help?” he asked, jerking his head toward the wheelbarrow she was still holding on to.
“What? Oh. No.” Great, Kelly. Three. Separate. Words. Care to try for a sentence? “I mean, it’s empty, so not heavy. I’m just taking it around to the back.”
“Okay.” He came down the wide front steps to the brick walkway lined with chrysanthemums in bright, cheerful fall colors. “I’m taking a break. Thought I’d drive around. Get my bearings.”
“After two months of being in Banner?” she asked, smiling. “Yeah, maybe it’s time.”
His mouth worked into a partial smile. “Any suggestions on the route I should take?”
She se
t the wheelbarrow down, flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and thought about it. “Just about any route you take is a pretty one. But if you’re looking for a destination, you could drive through the canyon down to 89. There are a lot of produce stands there. You could pick me up a few pumpkins.”
He tipped his head to one side and studied her, a flicker of what might have been amusement on his face. “Did I say I was going shopping?”
“No,” she said, smiling. “But you could.”
He blew out a breath, looked up and down the street, then shifted his gaze back to hers. “Or, you could ride with me and pick out your own pumpkins.”
“Okay.”
He nodded.
“No,” she said. “Wait. Maybe not.”
He frowned at her.
Having an audience while she argued with herself was a little embarrassing. She could tell from his expression that Micah didn’t really want her along so, naturally, she really wanted to go. Even though she shouldn’t. She already had plenty to do and maybe spending time with Micah Hunter wasn’t the wisest choice, since he had the unerring ability to stir her up inside. But could she really resist the chance to make him as uncomfortable as he made her?
“I mean, sure,” she said abruptly. “I’ll go, but I’d have to be back in a couple of hours. I have a house to show this afternoon.”
His eyebrows arched high on his forehead. “I can guarantee you I won’t be spending two hours at a pumpkin stand.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “So? Are you coming or not?”
Her eyes met his and in those dark brown depths, Kelly read the hope she would say no. So, of course, she said the only thing she could.
“I guess I am.”
Two
“Why are you buying pumpkins when you’re growing your own?”
They were already halfway down the twisting canyon road. The mountains rose up on either side of the narrow pass. Wide stands of pine trees stood as tall and straight as soldiers, while oaks, maples and birch trees that grew within those stands splashed the dark green with wild bursts of fall color.
“And,” Micah continued, “isn’t there somewhere closer you could buy the damn things?”
She turned her head to look at his profile. “Sure there is, but the produce stands have the big ones.”
Kelly could have sworn she actually heard his eyes roll. But she didn’t care. It was a gorgeous fall day, she was taking a ride in a really gorgeous car—even though it was going too fast for the pass—and she was sitting beside a gorgeous man who made her nervous.
And wasn’t that a surprise? Four years since her husband Sean had died and Micah was the first man to make her stomach flutter with the kind of nerves that she had suspected were dead or atrophied. The problem was, she didn’t know if she was glad of the appearance of those nerves or not.
Kelly rolled down the window and let the cold fall air slap at her in lieu of a cold shower. When she got a grip, she shifted in her seat to look at Micah. “Because I grow those to give away to the kids in the neighborhood.”
“And you can’t keep some for yourself?”
“I could, but where’s the fun in that?”
“Fun?” he repeated. “I’ve seen you out there weeding, clipping and whatever else it is you do to those plants. That’s fun?”
“For me it is.” The wind whipped her ponytail across her face and she pushed it aside to look at him. “Besides, if I was going to take lessons on fun from somebody, it wouldn’t be you.”
He snorted. “If you did, I’d show you more than pumpkins.”
Her stomach swirled a little at the implied promise in those words, but she swallowed hard and stilled it. He was probably used to making coded statements designed to turn women into slavering puddles. So she wouldn’t accommodate him. Yet.
“I’m not convinced,” she said with a shrug. “You’ve been in town two months and you’ve hardly left the house.”
“That’s work. No time for fun.”
“Just a chatterbox,” she mumbled. Every word pried out of him felt like a victory.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said. “So, what’s your idea of fun then?”
He took a moment to think it through, and said, “I’d start with chartering a private jet—”
“Your own personal jet,” she said, stunned.
He glanced at her and shrugged. “I don’t like sharing.”
She laughed shortly as she thought about the last time she’d taken a flight out of Salt Lake City airport. Crowded onto a full flight, she’d sat between a talkative woman complaining about her grandchildren and a businessman whose briefcase poked her in the thigh every time he shifted in his seat. Okay, she could see where a private jet would be nice. “Well sure. Okay, your jet. Then what?”
He steered the Range Rover down the mountain road, taking the tight curves like a race-car driver. If Kelly let herself worry about it, she’d be clinging to the edges of her seat. So she didn’t think about it.
“Well, it’s October, so I’d go to Germany for Oktoberfest.”
“Oh.” That was so far out of her normal orbit she hardly knew what to say. Apparently, though, once you got Micah talking about something that interested him, he would keep going.
“It’s a good place to study people.”
“I bet,” she murmured.
He ignored that, and said, “Writers tend to observe. Tourists. Locals. How people are interacting. Gives me ideas for the work.”
“Like who to murder?”
“Among other things. I once killed a hotel manager in one of my books.” He shrugged. “The guy was a jackass so, on paper at least, I got rid of him.”
She stared at him. “Any plans to kill off your current landlady?”
“Not yet.”
“Comforting.”
“Anyway,” he continued, “after a long weekend there, I’d go to England,” he mused, seriously considering her question. “There’s a hotel in Oxford I like.”
“Not London?”
“Fewer people to recognize me in Oxford.”
“That’s a problem for you?” she asked.
“It can be.” He took another curve that had Kelly swerving into him. He didn’t seem to notice. “Thanks to social media, my fans tend to track me down. It gets annoying.”
She could understand that. The photo of Micah on the back of his books was mesmerizing. She’d spent a bit of time herself studying his eyes, the way his hair tumbled over his forehead, the strong set of his jaw.
“Maybe you should take your photo off your books.”
“Believe me, I’ve suggested it,” Micah said. “The publisher won’t do it.”
Kelly really didn’t have anything to add to the conversation. She’d never been followed by strangers desperate to be close to her and the farthest she’d ever traveled was on her last flight—to Florida to visit her grandmother. England? Germany? Not really in her lifestyle. She’d love to go to Europe. Someday. But it wouldn’t be on a private jet.
She glanced out the window at the familiar landscape as it whizzed past and felt herself settle. Micah’s life was so far removed from her own it made Kelly’s head spin just thinking about it.
“One of these days,” she said suddenly, shifting her gaze back to his profile, “I’d like to go to Scotland. See Edinburgh Castle.”
“It’s worth seeing,” he assured her.
Of course he’d been there. Heck, he’d probably been everywhere. No wonder he stuck close to the house. Why would he be interested in looking around Banner, Utah? After the places he’d been, her small hometown probably appeared too boring to bother with. Well, maybe it wasn’t up to the standards of Edinburgh, or Oktoberfest in Germany, but she loved it.
“Good to know,” she said. “But until then, I’ll plant pumpkins for the kids.” She smiled to herself and let go of a twinge of envy still squeezing her insides. “I like everything about gardening. Watching the seeds sprout, then the vines spread and the pumpkins get bigger and brighter orange.” Smiling, she continued. “I like how the kids on the street come by all the time, picking out the pumpkins they want, helping water, pulling weeds. They get really possessive about their pumpkins.”
“Yeah,” he said wryly. “I hear them.”
He never took his eyes off the road, she noted. Was it because he was a careful driver, or was he just trying to avoid looking at her? Probably the latter. In the two months he’d been living in her Victorian, Micah Hunter had made eluding her an art form.
Sure, he was a writer, and he’d told her when he first arrived in town that he needed time alone to work. He wasn’t interested in making friends, having visitors or a guided tour of her tiny town. Friendly? Not so much. Intriguing? Oh, yeah.
Could she help it if tall, dark and crabby appealed to her? Odd though, since her late husband, Sean, had been blond and blue-eyed, with an easy smile. And nothing about Micah was easy.
“You don’t like kids?”
Briefly he slanted a look at her. “Didn’t say that. Said I heard them. They’re loud.”
“Uh-huh,” she said with a half smile. “And didn’t you say last week that it was too quiet in Banner?”
His mouth tightened but, grudgingly, he nodded. “Point to you.”
“Good. I like winning.”
“One point doesn’t mean you’ve won anything.”
“How many points do I need then?”
A reluctant smile curved his mouth, then flashed away again. “At least eleven.”
Wow. That half smile had come and gone so quickly it was like it had never been. Yet, her stomach was swirling and her mouth had gone dry. Kelly took a breath and slowly let it out again. She had to focus on what they were talking about, not what he was doing to her.
Fiancé in Name Only Page 2
