Manhunting in Mississippi

by Stephanie Bond

  When he finally opened his eyes, he was smiling, and Piper quickly followed suit, relieved he had enjoyed their lovemaking as much as she had. He kissed a trail across her shoulder, then whispered, “I could sure go for that tall glass of water now.”

  Her laughter resounded in the room and they disentangled themselves.

  “Do you have to leave?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

  “No.”

  Her heart and body soared, although after his performance, she certainly didn’t expect an encore. “Okay, then follow me.”

  He snatched the glasses while she grabbed a handful of their clothes, then he followed her to her bedroom. Their bare feet padding against the wooden floor struck Piper as being so intimate, she would probably never forget the sound. Inside the bedroom, she turned on a lamp.

  Ian glanced around the room and pronounced, “Nice.”

  She smiled her thanks. Like every room in her house, her bedroom was small, but bright and uncluttered.

  “Oh, I left something in the kitchen.” He set down the glasses, then disappeared.

  Piper slowly draped their clothes over the back of a chair, then turned down her bed, wondering if he already regretted their lovemaking. Perhaps he stood in the kitchen now, scrambling to find a graceful exit after he’d had a few minutes to consider their lapse. She walked into the bathroom and took a two-minute shower to rinse the remnants of the sweet sauces from her body. After sorting through her sleepwear, she pulled on red tap pants and a camisole. But with her hand on the bathroom doorknob, she stopped, worried she looked too expectant. Oh, well, since she’d broken almost every rule in her grandmother’s manhunting book, she’d have to wing the rest of it, too.

  Still naked, Ian stood draining the glass of water when she walked in.

  He glanced at her outfit and frowned. “Oh, I wish you hadn’t done that.”

  “You don’t like my pajamas?”

  “No, I meant take a shower.”

  Confused, she asked, “Why?”

  “Because,” he said earnestly, “I forgot the whipped cream.” He raised the can, shook it and walked toward her with a mischievous glint in his eye.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Don’t fret if it doesn’t work out—there’s more than one man for every woman, else the odds of finding him would be astronomical.

  PIPER HAD THE SENSE that something was terribly wrong even before she opened her eyes. She hovered in a languid, sleepy state, delaying the inevitable moment of fully waking. A deep groan near her ear ended her semiconscious procrastination, and her eyes fluttered open in the predawn light.

  Her body felt hot, sweaty even, and a little sticky under the sheet over her breasts. She lay on her right side, facing the pale wood dresser she had painstakingly refinished over several months. Big, solid pieces of furniture gave her comfort because they made her feel rooted. Trendy, disposable furniture was for flighty people—temporary people who moved around a lot and didn’t get attached to things, like her mother. The two-hundred-fifty pound, intricately carved dresser was going nowhere on a whim. Piper loved waking up every morning and seeing the product of her hard work and stick-to-itiveness.

  But not this morning. Because while in front of her sat evidence of long-suffering devotion, behind her lay evidence of subjugation to irrational desires.

  Ian’s arm lay loosely around her waist, the dark hair on his thick forearms incongruous against the pale, flowered sheet. His shallow, uneven breathing told her that he, too, was nearly awake, but not quite. Their bodies touched in a half-dozen intimate places, alarmingly familiar to her now.

  The tingle of an itch traveled across her stomach. Too late, she realized her skin was reacting to last night’s chocolate exchange—as if remembering the erotic intimacies she’d shared with this man was simply not enough to torture her for untold days. She’d never been driven to do anything so uninhibited in all her life. So why would she give herself with such abandon to a virtual stranger who had none of the qualities she’d set out to find—small-town, dependable, loyal?

  Her gaze darted down to his ring finger, her eyes widening when she saw it was bare. Had he removed the ring out of respect to her, or out of respect to his lover? She gritted her teeth—perhaps he always removed it when he cheated. Remorse flooded over her like a wave of boiling water. How utterly stupid could she be?

  A sickening question settled in the pit of her stomach…How many times had her mother faced the sunrise in a similar situation? Piper remembered countless mornings men had stumbled from their apartment in a state of undress, many of the losers sporting wedding rings. Her stomach turned over—had her father been a married man cheating on his wife with her mother? And even though Ian wasn’t yet married, did that really make her any better than her mother? She had known his heart was committed elsewhere, and she’d slept with him anyway…Correction—it had gone way beyond sleeping, she reminded herself wryly.

  And she still needed the man’s business.

  Mortification surged through her body, suffocating her. Frantic, she pulled away from him and swung her feet to the floor, ignoring his sleepy protests. The flimsy pajamas she’d worn to bed lay in a heap on the floor, but she bypassed them and strode straight into the bathroom. Without looking back, she closed the door quietly and lifted her long terry-cloth robe from the hook. Despite the temperature and humidity, she shrugged inside. Piper wrapped the sash tightly around her waist and leaned heavily against the door, fighting tears of frustration and regret.

  She’d lost her self-respect, and with it probably the best chance she had at being able to make an offer on her grandmother’s house. He’d never take her seriously when it came to business, not after last night, not after the table—oh, God…She dropped her head in her hands. What if he thought she’d seduced him in order to get his business? And what if he did offer Blythe the contract because of her irresponsible behavior? Then her bonus would be little more than payment for sexual services rendered. A sob rose in her throat, choking her.

  “Piper?” A light knock on the door startled her. She straightened and inhaled sharply.

  Hastily wiping tears with the heels of her hands, she sniffed and glanced in the mirror, then grabbed the sink for support. She looked like the tousled, sexed, lazy-eyed spitting image of her mother.

  “Piper?” He knocked again, this time louder. “Are you okay?”

  She couldn’t face him, not yet. She wished she could avoid him indefinitely, but she knew that was unlikely. “Uh, yeah,” she called shakily. “I’m fine. How—how about I meet you at the lab around ten-thirty?”

  He was silent for a few seconds, then said, “If that’s what you want.” His voice had changed—was that relief? Or was he irritated she wasn’t up for a morning tussle?

  “That’s what I want. B-before this gets more complicated and people are hurt.” Like me. She turned on the shower to prevent further conversation. Coward, she chastised herself.

  But better to be a coward, she told herself, than be doubly foolish. Because as much as she hated to admit it, if she had opened the door and he had opened his arms, she would have walked into them. Perhaps she could absolve herself someday for falling under his influence, late at night with romantic music on the radio and loneliness crowding her heart. But a meaningless tryst in the wake of morning-after insight would be unforgivable.

  She heard the faint thump of a car door closing and the rumble of an engine turning over. Piper disrobed, sighing at the expanse of red, angry skin on her stomach and back, and stepped into the shower, allowing the warm water to soothe her surface discomfort…. The rest would take some time.

  IAN TRIED to recall when he had last been tossed out of a woman’s bed in the early-morning hours following an incredible night of mind-blowing sex, but no incidents came to mind. Which could probably be attributed to the fact that even when he’d been sowing oats as a young bachelor, he’d never indulged in such blatantly hedonistic acts as he’d shared with Piper Shepherd. He
’d never finger-painted a woman with chocolate and licked it off her body gratuitously. He’d never mixed fruit with forbidden fruit. He’d never taken a woman on her kitchen table. And he’d never been so disappointed to wake up and find himself alone.

  She was obviously feeling guilty over betraying Enderling, but what had prompted her to sleep with him in the first place? Was she trying to make the other man jealous? Then his gut clenched—was she trying to influence his decision about the contract? She’d been insistent that he try the dessert last night. Had it been to prime him for a meeting she’d already planned this morning? Was she perhaps in line to receive some kind of commission if he signed with Blythe? Would she threaten to take their affair public if he refused?

  Pursing his mouth, Ian realized he simply had to face the possibility that she may have targeted him from the beginning—and he had been so taken by her that he’d forgone his normal scrupulous business conduct and followed her to bed. Or was her ploy furthered by some subconscious desire of his to sabotage his relationship with Meredith?

  Passing a hand over his face, he groaned in frustration. He simply had to speak to Meredith today. Ian stopped and stared at his bare ring finger, panic rising in his chest. What had happened to Meredith’s ring? He hadn’t taken it off since his drain scare yesterday. His mind raced. When had he last seen it? Thumping his hand on the steering wheel, he fast-forwarded through last night’s…scenario. He vaguely remembered his ring snagging on the pillowcase in Piper’s bed, so he’d been wearing it when he went to sleep.

  Muttering an oath, he jammed his hand through his hair. He’d lost Meredith’s engagement ring in the twisted sheets of another woman’s bed.

  “GOOD MORNING,” Piper said calmly. It had taken her half an hour to perfect the greeting—she wasn’t so sure about what would come out of her mouth next.

  “I suppose so,” Ian replied, his gray eyes flitting over the most conservative outfit she owned—pale blue crepe jacket and slacks. Minus his briefcase, he still looked the part of rich businessman in a dark, single-breasted suit. His only concession to the heat was a crisp white collarless knit shirt. He held a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses in one hand. And he still wasn’t wearing his ring, she noted with a jolt.

  Her heart lifted with unreasonable hope, but she couldn’t prevent it. Had he taken it off—and left it off—in light of their newfound attraction? Then she bit down on the inside of her cheek. Or was he simply keeping it tucked away until he returned to his lover to play the faithful partner?

  He glanced around and nodded at Rich who stared, unsmiling, from a doorway just a few feet away. Her perceptive friend knew something was wrong. Ian leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I, um, seem to have left something in your house.”

  She frowned in confusion.

  After clearing his throat, he said, “More specifically, in your bed.” He wiggled the fingers on his left hand, his eyebrows raised.

  His ring. He hadn’t removed it—he’d lost it…in her bed. She might have laughed out loud if it hadn’t hurt so much. Irony had her number on speed dial.

  “I, um, didn’t find it,” she said, her gaze darting to her assistant. “Let’s move this meeting into the lab, shall we?” She grabbed a blue lab coat and led the way, her feet heavy and her stomach churning. Piper tried her best to ignore Rich’s pointed stare as they passed him.

  Once the door to the lab had closed behind them, she wheeled. “Ian, what makes you so sure you left your ring at my house?”

  His eyes widened and his head jutted forward. “What makes me so sure? How about the fact that I was wearing it when I got there and I wasn’t when I left?”

  “When did you notice it was gone?” she persisted.

  He sighed. “While I was driving back to the motel before the crack of dawn. What is this—‘Twenty Questions’?”

  “Do you remember taking it off?”

  “No, it must have come off while we were…” His face reddened. “Sleeping.”

  She crossed her arms. “Well, that certainly narrows the window of opportunity, doesn’t it?”

  “It probably snagged on the covers,” he said, his voice elevated.

  “Do you mind keeping your voice down?” she whispered loudly. “I’d really rather everyone not know about…what happened.”

  His eyebrows knitted and his eyes narrowed in anger. “Then I guess I shouldn’t have waved at your neighbor this morning as I left?”

  Piper moaned. “You waved at Lenny?”

  A disgusted sigh left his mouth. “No, I didn’t wave at anybody! What do you think, that I’m trying to advertise the fact that we slept together?”

  “No,” she said evenly. “I’m sure you’re as eager as I am to keep this to ourselves.”

  “Unfortunately, I’ll need to come back and look for the ring.”

  “I’ll look for it,” she promised. “And if I find it—”

  “Perhaps we should look for it together,” he said hurriedly.

  A thought struck her, and her mouth went slack. “You don’t trust me, do you? What, do you think I squirted whipped cream on your finger and slipped off your ring while you were dozing?”

  “No,” he said hotly. “But I don’t expect you to be on your hands and knees—”

  “You certainly expected it last night,” she cut in.

  His face turned purple. “What? I’m the one who has rug burns on my knees—”

  “Well, that’s what you get, Mr. Kie-yie-yippie-yie-a.”

  “Good morning, all.”

  Piper spun toward the door. To her horror, Edmund stood there with a smile plastered on his face.

  “M-Mr. Blythe,” she stammered.

  “Piper, Mr. Bentley.” He nodded at each of them in turn, then sauntered into the room as if he hadn’t walked in on a shouting match.

  “Edmund,” Ian replied, his voice somewhat strained.

  Her boss continued over to the coffee station and filled a paper cup, then added cream. “I hope you don’t mind, Ian, but Piper told me this morning about her new recipe, so I thought I’d sit in on your meeting and see how you like it.”

  “Mind?” He glanced at Piper and she winced, wondering how much of their “meeting” Edmund had heard. “No, I don’t mind. We were just about to, um—”

  Come to blows. “Get started,” Piper finished magnanimously. She yanked on the lab coat and walked over to the refrigerator, trying to get past her misery. It was useless—Ian would never give them the contract, she’d never get the bonus, she’d never have the home she wanted and she’d never have another date. Because he has ruined me for other men.

  She removed the two new batches of sauce from the refrigerator and banged the door so hard, both men turned her way. “Spring-loaded door,” she lied, then moved toward the white table. Trying not to think about the consumption of the last batch she made, she put the chocolate sauce in the microwave, then removed fresh, warm chocolate muffins from the oven.

  “By the way, Piper, Saint Augustine’s sent us a nice thank-you letter for allowing you to chef the children’s benefit dinner,” Edmund said from the table. He winked at Ian, who pulled out a chair opposite him. “Ms. Shepherd really knows her way around the kitchen, wouldn’t you agree, Bentley?”

  Feeling wicked, Ian nodded and blew into his cup of black coffee. “She fixes a nice spread, yes.”

  A tightening of her jaw was the only evidence that she’d heard him. He watched those wonderfully talented small hands assemble two desserts, then carry them to the table. A rich, dark aroma floated from the cakes, tickling his nose when she set the concoction before him. She pulled a fact sheet from her lab-coat pocket and lay it next to his portion.

  “Gentlemen, may I present Mississippi Malted Mud Puddles.”

  With one look at the cake, memories of the previous night assaulted him. On cue, he began to salivate, feeling like one of Pavlov’s dogs.

  Edmund smiled, turning his saucer around. “Why, it’s lovely, Piper. I’
ve never seen anything like it. Have you, Bentley?”

  “Er, no,” he murmured. “I really can’t say that I have.” He glanced behind her. “Do you have any extra garnishes with the cake?”

  Her blue eyes widened innocently. “Oh, I almost forgot.” From behind her back, she pulled out a can of whipped cream. With an exaggerated flourish, she gave each of them a generous dollop on top of their respective cakes.

  Ian stared at the fluffy cream and shifted in his seat, remembering with remarkable distinction the way she’d turned her wrist last night at the last second to put a little swirly tail on top of whatever area of his body she was covering at the time.

  While he stared, a perfect-stemmed maraschino cherry plopped on top.

  He looked up and she smiled back. “You do like cherries, don’t you, Mr. Bentley?”

  He ground his teeth to curb his burgeoning arousal. “I’ve been known to eat one or two.”

  “Two?” she said, her eyebrows raised. She reached into the jar she held and dropped another cherry onto his cake, flattening the whipped cream. “Perhaps you can save one to take back to Chicago with you.”

  She glanced to Edmund, who seemed a little frightened at her zeal for cherries. “I’ll pass.”

  Ian pursed his lips, determined to be civil. “Aren’t you going to indulge with us, Ms. Shepherd?”

  Edmund laughed. “Piper’s allergic to chocolate—can you believe it? A food scientist who creates some of the best desserts in the country, and she’s allergic to chocolate.” He scooped up a gooey bite and shoved it in his mouth, then rolled his eyes and made a contented grunt as he chewed.

  Ian digested the information, then glanced up at Piper. She blushed furiously. “Allergic, you say?”