“Except?” she whispered.
“Except sometimes you talk too much, especially when all I want to do is kiss you.”
When his lips touched hers, it was the best thing she’d felt in her life. The heat running through her blood had her melting like putty in his hands. She sighed and kissed him back, hoping she wouldn’t disappoint.
At first, the kiss was soft and slow, which helped her to relax. But soon, something deep inside her urged her to fully partake of what was being offered. The kiss wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
She slid her hands up his chest and hooked her arms around his neck. A ragged sigh rattled in his throat as he tightened her in his embrace. Immediately, the kiss turned wilder and deeper. The pleasure raging through her took her breath away, surprising her greatly. She wouldn’t stop. Not for anything in the world. There was no way she wanted to break their contact and ruin this glorious moment.
He shifted them in the loveseat and pressed her back into the cushions at a slight angle. This was more comfortable and kissing him was perfect. He was perfect. She still wished she knew what had gotten him to notice her in the first place, but she’d worry about that later. Right now, she just wanted to enjoy the kiss as much as she could since she knew it wouldn’t last forever. Soon, her father would return.
Peter’s lips left hers to travel down her neck. Trickles of goosebumps buzzed through her and made her sigh deeper than before. She threaded her fingers through his hair, tilting her head back as she enjoyed this new sensation sweeping over her.
Suddenly, he stopped and rested his face in the crook of her neck. His hot breaths made her shiver, but she wasn’t cold in the least.
“Why… did you stop?” she asked, breathless.
By the quick rise and fall of his chest, she assumed he was having a difficult time breathing, too. Within moments, his body shook as though he was laughing. She kissed his head, keeping him close.
“Forgive me if I have disappointed you, my dear Annette.” He lifted his head to look at her. His eyes were a dark green and his lips were slightly puffy.
“You didn’t disappoint me. I just wondered why you stopped.”
“Because if I kept going…” He inhaled deeply and slowly released it. “I don’t want to get to the point where I couldn’t stop.”
She smiled and caressed the side of his face. “Perhaps it’s best that we do stop. I don’t know when my father will get home.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be occupied for a few more hours....”
The way he suddenly stopped and hitched a breath made her curious, but when his eyes widened in panic, she really became worried. “Peter,” she asked sternly, “what do you know that I don’t know?”
He sighed, shaking his head. “Forget I said anything.”
“Peter Fletcher, I mean it.” She pushed him off her. “Tell me what you know about my father’s disappearance.”
Another heavy breath came from Peter as he rested the back of his head on the cushions and pushed his fingers through his hair. “Oh, Annette. Forgive me for saying anything. It’s really not my place.”
She leaned over him taking his face in her hands. When he met her stare, she frowned. “Why do you and my father think I’m so fragile? Please tell me.”
Nodding, he shifted on the loveseat until they were sitting side-by-side. He took her hands in his. The expression on his face worried her, and yet, part of her thought she knew what he was going to say.
“To put it to you gently, your father is very much like the widower who mailed in that letter to the Lovelorn about being lonely.”
Her mind returned briefly to the letters. The man’s wife had died, and he had a child. He worried about finding another woman and it upsetting his child.
She gasped and clutched the front of Peter’s shirt. “Father has found another woman?”
Slowly, Peter nodded.
“And he hasn’t told me because he’s worried I will be upset?”
Peter nodded again.
Groaning, she covered her hands over her face as tears stung her eyes. All this time she thought he spent more time away from the house because he was more devoted to his job, but now…
Peter’s comforting arms moved around her shoulders as he pulled her against his chest. She pressed her face into his shirt and tried not to cry, but the tears came anyway. If only her father had said something, he wouldn’t be lonely, and she wouldn’t feel so neglected.
She took deep breaths, trying to stop the tears. She shouldn’t be upset. Her father was happy, so she should be happy for him. Unfortunately, his deceit weighed heavily on her heart. One way or another, she needed to talk to him about this.
“I’m sorry.” Peter stroked her hair.
Shaking her head, she lifted to look into his sad eyes. “It’s not your fault, it’s my father’s.”
“Are you going to be all right?” He cupped her face as his thumbs tried to remove the tears from her cheeks.
“Maybe not tonight, but by tomorrow I’ll feel strong enough to talk to him.”
He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Do you want me to stay?”
She couldn’t stop the small smile from sneaking across her mouth. “You’d better not. After all, I know how well you enjoy comforting your female friends.”
He chuckled lightly. “Annette, you’re not just my friend, you know.”
Her heart flipped. Although she wanted to ask him what he meant by that, for now, she could only handle one thing at a time, and until her father confessed his secret, she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on her growing affection for Peter. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the office.”
He brushed his lips across hers briefly before pulling away and standing. “Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She watched him walk toward the door. It was tempting to call him back because without his arms around her, she felt empty. But this was right. He needed to leave.
“Peter?”
He turned and looked at her.
“Thank you for an amazing evening.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome, and thank you for giving me a wonderful evening, as well.”
He walked out of the house and closed the door behind him. The tears started coming again, and she wanted to scream in frustration. Without his knowledge, her father had ruined her evening, and part of her wanted to find him and ruin his. It was hard not to follow the urges her mixed feelings were sending, but she couldn’t. She was not a revengeful person. However, tomorrow when she talked to her father… she was sure St. Louis would quake due to her wrath.
NINE
Annette sat at the dining room table early the next morning, waiting for her father to come down for breakfast. He never missed this meal with her, even though a few times he’d been late. Obviously, this morning would be one of those few times.
She was too nervous to eat and still too upset, but she sipped her tea until it turned cool. She tapped her fingers on the table, but that only made her more agitated. As she lay in bed last night, she’d prepared in her mind what she’d say to him. It was hard to understand why he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her the truth. She didn’t want to hate him as she did the other men who lied to her.
Closing her eyes, she rubbed her forehead, wishing the ache in her skull would leave. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. If she wasn’t crying over the issues with her father, she was dreaming about what she and Peter had shared. It was difficult to go from one wonderful memory to one that broke her heart.
The creaking floor snapped her alert just as her father walked into the dining room. He was dressed in one of his brown suits, ready to start the day. His light-brown hair was slicked back off his forehead, and a few more silver hairs were noticeable. She studied his face and for the first time, noticed the twinkle in his eyes and the satisfied grin he tried not to show. He had indeed been with a woman last night because after kissing Peter, she was sure she had that same dopey expression.
�
�Good morning, Annette.”
“Good morning, Father.”
He sat and reached for the trays of fruits and scones. “Did you and Peter have a nice evening?”
“Yes, we did.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I even think I figured out who Shy Nellie is.” When he gave her a confused look, she added, “The one who had written to the Lovelorn.”
“Oh, yes.”
Matilda hurried out of the kitchen, bringing a porcelain cup and a pot of coffee for her father. She set the cup in front of him before pouring. He gave the cook a nod and she left.
“It was Janelle Ramsey. Her mother always calls her Nellie.”
“How interesting.” He bit into a scone.
“I found it interesting, too.”
He opened a newspaper from one of their competitors and skimmed the front page. She fisted her hands, wishing he’d give her as much attention as he did to that newspaper, especially now.
She cleared her throat. “I also think I discovered the identity of another person who had written to the newspaper.” She paused, waiting for his reaction, but apparently, he was too wrapped up in what he was reading. She wanted to scream at him or cry, but she would do neither. Instead, she would force him to pay attention.
She cleared her throat loudly. Finally, he pulled his focus away from the newspaper and looked at her. “Did you hear what I said, Father?”
“Oh, forgive me.” He took a drink of his coffee. “Tell me what you said.”
“I think I discovered the identity of another person who’d written to the newspaper.”
Her father scowled. “Annette, you really shouldn’t do that. Some of these people don’t want you to know who they are.”
“Especially, if they are related.” She arched an eyebrow. “Am I right, Mr. Lonely?”
His eyes widened and the newspaper in his hands fell to the table. “Pardon me?”
His reaction confirmed her belief. She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. “Father, why didn’t you tell me that you have met a woman and you want to marry her?”
“Where did you hear such nonsense?”
Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “Are you saying you’re not in love? Are you saying that you’re not worried about your child and what she might think of the new woman in your life?”
“I still demand to know where you heard such foolery.”
He kept his scowl, but as she stared deep into his eyes, she could see the underlying truth. Father was stubborn, and she would have to coax it out of him. “Father, it’s all right.” She sighed. “Mother has been gone for ten years. I understand that you want someone in your life to love. I will not think less of you – or of her – if you want to remarry.”
After a few uncomfortable seconds, his shoulders relaxed, and he nodded. “You’re right. I’m Mr. Lonely. I wrote to the paper in hopes of getting your opinion on the subject.”
“Now that you know how I truly feel, will you stop lying to me?” The tears she’d been trying to hide slid down her face. “All the men who have courted me have lied about their feelings. They love my father’s money more than me.” She wiped away the tears. “Father, what hurts the most is that you couldn’t tell me the truth.”
He moved from his seat and to the empty chair beside her. He pulled her into his arms, and she pressed her face against his shoulder as more tears fell.
“I’m so sorry. You are correct. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you wouldn’t understand. I know you miss your mother, as do I, but the time has passed, and I need to have that kind of love in my heart again.”
She breathed slower. “Father, I’m a grown woman now, entering into spinsterhood. I think you should give me the respect I deserve to understand adult problems.”
He chuckled and pulled back. Smiling, he dried her cheeks. “Yes, you are a grown woman, and from now on, I’ll stop treating you like a child. From here on out, I promise to be truthful with you.”
“Will you introduce me to her?”
He nodded. “I think you know her. It’s Mrs. Chadwick.”
Annette gasped. “The school teacher?”
“Yes.”
“She was my teacher.”
“That’s how I had gotten to know her.”
She smiled and hugged her father. “Mrs. Chadwick is a wise choice. I think you’ll be very happy with her.”
“I already am, my dear.”
* * * *
Annette anxiously opened the new batch of letters addressed to the Lovelorn that she taken home to work on. Her cheeks hurt with how wide she was smiling. She was now a journalist. Although she wanted people to know it was her, they probably wouldn’t be able to handle a female writer just yet. Father promised her that one day he’d announce who the mystery writer was, but for now, she was just happy to do what she loved.
Dear Lovelorn,
I think I’ve fallen in love, but the situation is complicated because we’ve known each other for years and we’ve only been friends. I can’t stop thinking about her, and I want her to be my wife. How can I change friendship into love? Dare I hope she feels the same about me?
Hopelessly in Love.
It thrilled Annette that she could finally relate to some of these feelings readers were experiencing. Now, more than before, she felt more qualified to write responses to these letters.
Dear Hopelessly in Love,
I’m so very happy that you have found the one thing most of us go through life trying to find. I also understand your dilemma, but I believe there is a fine line between friendship and love. After all, you love her as your friend, so all you need to do is strengthen that love until it grows into something more. If you want to know her feelings, look deep into her eyes. Does she gaze upon you as her knight in shining armor? Do you find her studying your face wistfully? Does she dress differently when she knows she’ll see you? You’ll also be able to tell by the way she hangs on to your every word and the way she laughs when you are with her. I encourage you to search for these hints, and if she has them all, then don’t be afraid to tell her how you really feel. Chances are, she will say those meaningful three little words you’re eager to hear – I love you.
Yours Truly: The Lovelorn.
She smiled and sighed dreamily. Perhaps she should take her own advice. While typing the response, she had been thinking of Peter. She had studied him and felt that he liked her for more than a friend. Heaven knows there had been many times she’d looked at him as her knight in shining armor. She also wanted to look her best for him, mainly because she enjoyed seeing the way he gazed over her, smiling at her with so much emotion in his eyes. Not to mention, the steamy kiss they’d shared last night, was indeed a hint that he wasn’t thinking of her as a friend any longer.
Perhaps she should also tell him the identity of the Lovelorn. He would keep it a secret, she was sure of it. She trusted him, which was something that she couldn’t do with the other men who had courted her.
Tonight. She’d do it tonight!
Dear Lovelorn,
I cannot believe in love. I’ve been hurt too many times. I want to know what makes you such an expert on the subject, especially when you are handing out advice as if it was peppermint sticks for children.
Disbelieving Old Fart.
Annette snorted a laugh. Although it wasn’t a request to find love, she would respond to this letter anyway. Maybe it would help other disbelievers out there.
Dear Disbelieving Old Fart,
I understand your reluctance in trusting my word, which is why at the beginning of this column there is a disclaimer to readers that they can take or leave my suggestions. However, I feel I must address your worry about my expertise on the subject of love. Unless one was born with a cold heart, I believe all of us have had their share of falling in love and getting hurt. We all have experienced that glorious feeling as if we are floating on air and can’t stop smiling and sighing with happiness. Because of this, I don’t feel that I need documentat
ion showing that I am qualified to hand out advice since they are just my suggestions. However, I do know one thing – everyone needs love. It doesn’t matter if the advice comes from me, or your neighbor, or some stranger, love is everywhere, and if you want to be happy, you should grab hold of the love-train and don’t let go.
Yours Truly: The Lovelorn.
TEN
Peter couldn’t believe he dared to write another letter to the Lovelorn, but falling in love was a serious matter, and he couldn’t take it lightly. He never thought he’d feel this way about any woman, and to think she’d been in his life all this time. He couldn’t lose her, and the kiss they had shared proved that he would never find anyone that made him feel this way. He’d kissed many women, but with Annette, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was the beginning of better things to come.
Although he wanted to pour out his heart to her now, he’d wait for a week just to read the Lovelorn’s advice. Of course, he might not be able to wait that long.
He pulled the one-horse buggy to a stop in front of Annette’s house. Malcolm had asked Peter this morning if he’d drive by the house and pick up Annette. That was one request Peter would definitely not turn down. Sometimes he wondered if Malcolm knew about his feelings for Annette and the older man was trying to play matchmaker.
Peter grinned. He wouldn’t mind that at all.
He parked the buggy and hurried toward the house. After two knocks on the front door, Annette greeted him. Her eyes sparkled as she grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. Before the door was even closed, she had her arms wrapped around his neck. He held her tightly in his embrace, not wanting to ever let her go.
“Did Father tell you?” she asked with excitement in her voice.
“He mentioned that you were working from home this morning.”
She shook her head. “Not that. Did he tell you about our talk?”
Peter caressed her glistening blonde hair that was as soft as silk. “No. What happened?”
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