Manhunting in Mississippi

by Stephanie Bond

  They made three more trips, she carrying the lighter boxes, he carrying the heavier ones—she limping slightly due to her ankle, he limping slightly due to an almost constant state of arousal he managed to keep hidden.

  Most of the cartons went to the bedroom, but the last one she directed him to deposit in the kitchen, a cracker-box room neatly decorated with framed, hand-written recipes. Most of the floor space was taken up with a beautifully scarred rectangular butcher-block table at least six inches thick, with a surface almost as large as a twin bed. “Nice,” he said, stroking the surface.

  “Thanks,” she said, opening the refrigerator door and peering inside. “Old man Richardson gave me the table when he closed his meat shop a while back. I must have sanded a half inch off the surface to get down to the good wood again. Iced tea?”

  He nodded, wiping his neck and forehead again. “It’s hot,” he said unnecessarily. He could no longer turn the ring on his finger—his skin had expanded with the humidity. If he didn’t marry Meredith, he supposed he’d have to get the thing cut off. Ian stopped—the thought had popped into his head unbidden.

  Piper closed the refrigerator and laughed. “It’s summer, and you’re in Mississippi—it’s supposed to be hot.” Nodding toward the bulky table, she said, “Have a seat and I’ll pour.”

  Ian pulled out the chair at the short end of the table and lowered himself gingerly. He had a tight feeling in his chest that indicated something was going to happen between them, and a tight feeling in his pants that told him whatever it was, he welcomed it.

  Piper set a sweating glass of amber-colored liquid in front of him. “Sugar?”

  He shook his head and lifted the glass to his mouth, trying not to stare at the wet spots on her thin shirt where she’d held the cold pitcher of tea against her. After a long drink, he passed a hand over his face and settled back in the chair.

  Still standing, Piper leaned over and with a little grunt lifted the window to his left. Warmish air floated in, stirring the sheer white curtains. She dropped into the remaining seat on the long side of the table, close enough for their knees to brush. The movement made her breasts jiggle and made him clamp his hands around the cool glass.

  She tucked her sweat-dampened hair behind her ears, and Ian’s breath caught in his throat at her glistening beauty. After adding a packet of artificial sweetener to her tea, she stirred it with her finger, then casually licked off the liquid. Lifting the glass to her mouth, she drank as deeply as he had. He watched, mesmerized, as the slim column of her throat constricted.

  “Whew.” She set down her glass and lifted a paper towel to her neck. “Thank you. It would have taken me all evening to unload the van.”

  His fingers were numb from squeezing his glass. “Glad to be of service. You have a nice place here.”

  “It’s okay,” she conceded. “But I’d like to have a place of my own one of these days. Do you live alo—I mean, do you live in an apartment?”

  He nodded. “I live alone and I live in an apartment.”

  “You probably travel a great deal.”

  He thought about his family. “Probably more than I should.” He swallowed another mouthful of cold tea, then cleared his throat. “Um, Piper.”

  “Yeah?”

  Despite his best efforts, a smile erupted. “What exactly were you doing when I arrived?”

  She sank white teeth into her lower lip and blushed furiously. “Taking my measurements. I’m going to be in a friend’s wedding in August.”

  He laughed loudly, shifting his legs. Their knees bumped again. “I’ve been in a few weddings myself. Ever been the bride?”

  Shaking her head, she said, “Always a bridesmaid. And after being in some of the biggest productions east of Las Vegas, my ideal wedding would be to leave town quietly then come back married.” She smiled and wiped sweat from her glass in little up-and-down motions. “You? Ever been married, I mean?”

  “No.” His heart beat erratically and he took a shaky breath. “Not yet.”

  She nodded. “It’s a big decision.”

  He nodded. “Huge.”

  “Life-altering,” she added, still nodding.

  “Till death do us part,” he agreed, still nodding.

  “I’m sure she’s a nice lady.”

  No reason to stop nodding, he decided. “She is.”

  “Beautiful?”

  “Yes.”

  She sipped her tea again. “Have you known her long?”

  “Six years now, I think.”

  “Oh, that’s good,” she said, rattling her glass to settle the ice. “Because you really need to know someone before you, um, you know—”

  “Do something that will change the course of your life?”

  “Exactly,” she said, then pointed a finger and added. “And the other person’s life, too.”

  He nodded. “Right. One impetuous decision could trigger a series of disasters.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “For instance, if I were to kiss you again right now,” he said, thinking how much he liked this nodding thing.

  Her nodding slowed, but didn’t stop. “Good example—yes, that could very well trigger a series of disasters.”

  Before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned forward and curled his fingers around the back of her hot, slender neck. The wet ends of her hair tickled his palm as he slowly pulled her forward. Her darkly fringed ice-blue eyes were wide with surprise and uncertainty, and he wondered if his own eyes reflected the same emotions. Desire gripped him and lashed itself around his body like steel bands. Her breath whooshed out, cool and sweet, and he inhaled her spent air a split second before capturing her wet mouth with his.

  He explored the recesses of her mouth with his tongue, taking everything and wanting more. She moved her mouth over his with no trace of timidity, conquering in her own right, draining him. Ian felt himself falling into her, past the point of no return. Nothing could stop the momentum of their need for each other.

  The peal of the phone rent the air, and Piper stiffened. Ian knew he’d lost her, but urged her on with his mouth. But she turned her head, breaking their kiss, and covered her mouth with a shaking hand. On the third ring, she jumped up and lifted the phone from its cradle, turning her back to him. “H-hello?”

  Unwilling to let her go, Ian stood on unsure knees and strode over to stand directly behind her. When she didn’t acknowledge him, he touched the back of his fingers to the sensitive area of her neck she unwittingly exposed by shoving back her wet hair. But instead of melting into him, she froze, then stepped away from him.

  “Oh, hello, Henry. I’m doing fine.” Apparently she thought it would be safer to keep her eye on him, because she suddenly pivoted to face him and leaned her hips against the counter. At least she appeared to be as shaken as he was—she barely made eye contact.

  But who the hell was Henry?

  “Yeah, it’s hot,” she agreed breathlessly. “Hmm? Out of breath? Oh, I’ve been—” she flicked her gaze over him “—exercising.”

  Ian set his jaw, and reached for her again. But she held up her hand to stop him.

  “Seven o’clock tomorrow night,” she said to Henry, a bit too cheerfully for Ian’s liking. “I’ll be ready. Goodbye.” She hung up the phone, but maintained her position against the counter, her gaze on her shoes.

  “I take it that wasn’t Rich,” he said quietly.

  An irritated noise emerged from her throat and she glanced up. “That’s right.” Piper straightened. “Just someone I have a date with tomorrow night, that’s all.”

  She was trying to make her boyfriend jealous. Ian looked away and jammed his hand through his hair. “I guess I’d better be going.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Are we still on for tomorrow morning?”

  For an instant, she looked remorseful. “Yes. I hope you don’t let this, this…incident cloud your business judgment—Blythe is still the best company to fill your contract.”<
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  Annoyed at her insinuation that he would let personal issues interfere with doing his job, he only hoped she would deliver something wonderful enough to make his choice an easy one.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  During the first date, score your suitor on a scale from one to one hundred. To predict his husbandly behavior, divide by two.

  FROM HER SEAT at the end of the lab table, Piper fidgeted, watching the chances of getting her bonus soon dwindle as Ian moved from the cocoa-raspberry mousse to the transparent chocolate tart with no comment. He shook his dark head almost indiscernibly while scribbling notes on the bottom of each fact sheet.

  With the previous night’s events hanging between them, their interaction had been limited to nods and monosyllabic words. A stone of worry and regret lay in her stomach. Although the chocolate desserts probably weren’t going to win him over, she felt sure the flirtation that she’d encouraged, then stopped abruptly, hadn’t exactly helped her cause.

  His eyes did light up at the sight of the simple chocolate layer cake, though. “Chocolate cake—my all-time favorite,” he murmured, probably because the silence was making him uncomfortable. With her fingers crossed under the table, she watched his face as he chewed, then swallowed.

  “It’s very good,” he pronounced, nodding and making notes. Then he lay down his pen and pushed the tray aside.

  “But?” she prompted, already knowing the verdict.

  “But,” he repeated slowly, “I’m looking for a recipe that strikes a balance between uniqueness and price point, and the white chocolate mousse I sampled at the plant in Illinois seems to come the closest to those requirements.”

  Piper released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She tried very hard to concentrate on his words, but disappointment mixed with images from last night tumbled over and over in her head. And it seemed incongruous that mere conversation flowed from the mouth which last night had induced such an amazing physical reaction within her. If Henry hadn’t called, they would have probably been late for their own meeting this morning.

  He picked up his pen, uncapped it, recapped it, then laid it back down. “Piper, look, I know this is an awkward situation, and I want to prove to you and to myself that I’m being as fair as possible. Take a few days, take a month if you need it. Give me a moderately priced premium chocolate cake, have marketing slap a catchy name on it, and you have my word that Blythe will get my business.”

  Her ears strained, listening for any little inflection that would indicate he was playing games. As always, he sounded calm, collected, in control. It was obvious that their encounter had not affected him as much as it had affected her. She felt like a country bumpkin, naive and ignorant of the ways of the world, of the ways of worldly men.

  “Your offer seems more than fair,” she agreed, then steepled her hands and chose her words carefully. “But we could have saved a lot of time if you had simply told me you wanted chocolate cake.”

  He smiled tightly. “Well, I like to try new things, but I guess when it comes down to it—”

  “You go back to your old favorite,” she finished for him.

  He nodded, then his smile dropped. “Are we talking about the same thing?”

  Suddenly anxious to end the meeting, she stood and extended her left hand out of respect for his left-handedness. “I appreciate your offer to give me another chance, Mr. Bentley. I will take you up on it.”

  Standing slowly, he shook her hand, but when she felt needlelike pain pressing into her palm, Piper winced and released his hand abruptly.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at the inside of his left hand.

  “You might want to check your engagement ring,” she said with a faint smile, flexing her hand. “I think it’s booby-trapped.”

  Peering more closely, his mouth tightened with irritation. “The prongs to one of the settings has pulled away.” He tugged on the ring, but it wouldn’t budge. His face reddened with the effort and he finally gave up with a frustrated sigh. “Damned humidity,” he muttered.

  “At least you don’t have to worry about losing it,” she said sweetly. “In this weather, it’s as good as a tattoo.” She led the way out of the lab, walking quickly to speed their parting, and smiled at Rich as he approached them.

  After the men exchanged greetings, Rich turned to her with a wry expression in his eye. “Piper, I hope you enjoy your evening with Henry.”

  “I intend to,” she said in her best warning voice, then shook her head at his back as he walked away.

  “You didn’t mention what this Henry fellow does for a living.” Ian’s conversational tone brought her back to the moment.

  Piper weighed her options. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  He cleared his throat mildly. “Well, what does the man do for a living?”

  Her mind raced. “Henry’s a businessman.”

  “Really? What kind of business?”

  “Uh, films.”

  “In Mudville?”

  “Well, he’s sort of into distribution—he travels quite a bit.”

  He looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. “Listen, I’ll be at the motel for another week. I might as well get in a few days of fishing before I return to Chicago.” He scribbled the number on a piece of paper. “In the meantime, if you want me to drop in and sample a recipe, just call. If we come to an agreement on a product in the next couple of days, perhaps I can meet with marketing and production before I leave.”

  “Then you wouldn’t have a reason to come back,” she observed lightly.

  He handed her the paper and returned his pen to his shirt pocket. “I guess not,” he agreed quietly. Was that the smallest hint of regret in his voice? Ian turned to leave without saying goodbye, then snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot,” he said, suddenly smiling. “I brought you something.”

  Piper’s heart rate kicked up as she watched him lay his briefcase on her desk and flip up the latches. Then he reached inside and withdrew a compact, black umbrella with a leather handle. “For you, Ms. Shepherd.” He extended the elegant umbrella to her with a heart-pounding grin, and added, “Just in case you run out of plastic bags.”

  She watched him walk away, shake hands with a couple of passersby, then step onto the elevator without a backward glance. Turning the umbrella over in her hands, she recalled all too well their fateful meeting. A sad smile curved her mouth. Had things turned out differently between them, the incident might have made an interesting story to tell her own granddaughter some day.

  By lunchtime, Piper decided to take the afternoon off—she could brainstorm better in her own kitchen than in the lab anyway. And it would give her plenty of time to get ready for her dinner date with Henry. Perhaps a lengthy ritual would assuage some of the guilt she felt at not being more excited about spending the evening with him.

  When she pulled into the driveway, she saw Lenny lying shirtless in a hammock between two small trees in his mother’s tiny front yard. The trees themselves were fairly buckling under the strain of his dead weight. He appeared to be snoozing, so she emerged from her van as quietly as possible and tiptoed around the side of her house.

  “Hey, Piper, what’s shakin’?” he croaked.

  Piper groaned and turned back to watch him struggle to stand. The trees bowed violently with his efforts. Suddenly the hammock twisted and flipped, catapulting him facedown into the grass. Piper gasped in dismay and trotted back to see if he was hurt.

  “Len.” She shook his bare shoulder and experienced a stab of alarm when he didn’t immediately respond. “Len,” she said louder, shaking him harder.

  He stirred and lifted his head, moaning.

  Her shoulders sagged in relief. “Len, it’s Piper. Are you okay?”

  The expression on his grass-stained face was one of confusion. “Where am I?”

  Piper rolled her eyes heavenward. As if he could be anywhere but at his mother’s house, doing
nothing. Even amnesia couldn’t stamp out a lifetime habit. “You fell out of your hammock, Len. Can you move?”

  He spit out a few blades of grass. “I think so.” He slowly raised himself on his elbows, and with her help pushed himself to his bare feet. Moving gingerly, he tested his limbs and turned his head from side to side. “I guess I’m okay,” he said, sounding relieved.

  Piper smiled. “I’m glad, Len—aarggghh!” Before she knew it, he’d yanked her to him in an awkward embrace and kissed her full on the lips. He tasted like grass and sweat, and she wrenched away from him angrily, wiping her mouth. Lenny took a half step backward, fright evident on his face.

  Furious, she went after him, pummeling him with her purse, first right, then left, to punctuate her words. “What—do—you—think—you—are—doing?”

  He held up his hands in meek defense. “I’m sorry, Piper, I’m sorry!”

  She stopped and jammed her hands on her hips. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  He pulled a sad face, crossing his arms and staring at the ground. “I saw you kissing that city fella last night in your kitchen, so I figured I’d better step in and stake my claim.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You were spying on me?”

  Lenny looked indignant. “No, I wasn’t!”

  She nodded. “You were spying on me!”

  Flustered, he sputtered, “Well, you opened your window, so I figured you meant for me to see—that you were trying to make me jealous.”

  “Jealous?” Piper pressed her lips together to keep herself from saying something that would hurt the man’s feelings. After a deep, calming breath, she said, “Lenny, I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. You and I are just…friends. I don’t think of you in a…romantic way.”

  A wounded expression settled on his green face. “You don’t?”

  She shook her head kindly. “No, I don’t. But I’m sure there are lots of women around Mudville who would like to go out with you.”

  He grinned, revealing a blade of grass between his front teeth. “You think?”