by Audrey Storm
Not going to get her heart broken again. Once in a lifetime was plenty.
"Tell me what kind of furniture you're going to buy."
Sara sat in a chair, put the flashlight on the table, propped her legs up on another chair and prepared to be entertained for at least a half-hour. Her friend could talk non-stop about her favorite subject, shopping. A pang of envy poked her heart but she pushed it away. Lucy and Brad were madly in love and getting married in a year. They were closing on a house, planning their honeymoon, and talking about babies. Exactly what Sara had envisioned doing at this point in life, but wasn't. Not even close.
Ten minutes into the virtual shopping trip, Sara's heart finally quit racing. She laughed with her friend about how Brad almost broke a bed by belly-flopping into it. Just as she gathered the courage to brave the dark and head upstairs to her room, the piercing chime of the doorbell made her sit up with a start, toppling over the footstool chair.
"Lucy!" Sara interrupted a dialogue about wood versus faux wood blinds. "The doorbell just rang."
"So go answer it."
"No one is supposed to be here tonight."
"Well look out the peephole and see who it is. Maybe it's a lost traveler."
"We're in the middle of the woods, one three acres, at the end of the road. Lost travelers don't come this way."
"Are you hyperventilating? Hey, you're really freaked out, aren't you?"
"It's still storming and the lights aren't on yet. Shit!" Sara cursed as the doorbell sounded again, the noise echoing through the empty house like a bell in a tomb.
"Call the cops. Now. Hang up and do it."
"Okay, I will. Bye."
"Call me back when they get there."
"I will."
"Be careful."
"I will! Bye." Sara disconnected, then punched in 911, but stopped before she hit the dial button.
What would she say? An unknown person was ringing her doorbell and she was afraid to see who it was? They'd hang up on her. She had to at least look out the peephole. She didn't have to open the door. Pointing her phone and the flashlight, she crept from the kitchen, through the vast living room to the foyer. Had the house suddenly expanded? It took forever, picking her way carefully past the heavy furniture. But she didn't want that doorbell to ring again, so she hurried.
Finally at the door, she put her eye up to the peephole. A man stood on the front porch, sheltered by the overhang, but still dripping wet. As she watched, he raised his fist and banged on the door. Sara jumped back.
"Hello," he called. "Anyone home?"
What in the world would a man be doing, at nine o'clock at night, standing on her father's front porch? Wait, her father had installed an intercom system. Maybe she could find it and figure it out. She shone her flashlight on the wall, trying to locate the box.
"Hey, who's in there? I see a light. Doug, let me in, damn it. I'm soaked." He pounded the door again.
Crap, he saw her. And he knew her father's name. And, he might possibly stand there beating the door until she opened it. Maybe he could hear her through the solid oak.
"Who are you?" she yelled.
"I'm Mathew. Mathew Stephens. I'm here to see Doug. We're going over some work tonight." He held up a briefcase. "Do you speak English?"
Did she what? Oh, he probably thought she was one of the housekeepers. Her dad employed several Hispanic people.
"Yes. I'm Sara. Doug's daughter."
The man cocked his head. "His daughter? I thought you lived out of state."
"I do. I'm visiting.
"Sara, can I come in? It's cold and I'm drenched."
Probably he told the truth. No one would really knock on the front door if they planned to rob a house, right?
Wait. She'd call her dad, see if this guy was legit. "Just a second. I'm calling Doug."
The phone went right to voicemail so she checked the texts. There, one must have come in while she talked to Lucy.
Plane delayed. Just now boarding. Home later.
Coming from the west coast, he wouldn't arrive for another two hours. Sara chewed her fingernail, peering out the peephole again. The guy really looked miserable, stomping his feet and trying to shake off the water.
"Can I see your ID?"
Well, that was silly. He could show her any old identification and she'd never know, as long as he was smart enough to remember an alias. Mathew pulled out his wallet and held up his driver's license. She could barely read it, but it appeared the first name on the card was Mathew.
"How do you know Doug?"
"We're best friends. We met years ago. I've been overseas for a long time, just got back in March. Doug and I are working on a real estate investment project together."
Oh great. Another rich, self-centered guy. Just who she wanted to talk to. But she couldn't leave the dude on the porch for hours. She peered around him. Not much scope from the peephole. Probably why her dad installed security cameras, and maybe they were on a back-up generator and she could view the footage. Was there a generator? She couldn't imagine her father not having one. Something she'd have to investigate for future visits. But not now.
"Where's your car? How did you get here?"
"It's down the road." He pointed. "Got a flat tire. They don't make rental cars like they used to. Can I please come in? I promise I'm who I say I am, and I'm not up to any harm."
Sara tapped her finger on her chin, a gesture that always helped her think.
"Tell me something about Doug that only a friend would know."
Teeth chattering, Mathew stepped closer to the peephole. "He used to sing Rolling Stone's songs to his daughter to get her to sleep. It's really cold out here."
Sara unlocked the door and Mathew hurried in.
"He told you that? About singing to me?"
"Sure did. I was trying to get some kids to sleep one night and he suggested the Stones. Something about the rhythm of the music. Hello, I'm Mathew." He held out a soggy hand.
She took it gingerly. "Sara. Sorry about keeping you outside. I didn't know Dad was expecting you."
"I'm early. And I guess he's late."
"I just got a text. He got held up in San Diego but he's on the plane now. He'll be here in a couple of hours. Oh, sorry again. I don't mean to be so rude. You're sopping wet, aren't you?" She shown the light up and down him.
"Electric out or are you just creating an atmosphere?"
Sara grinned. Funny guy, even as miserable as he must be, standing there wet as a fish.
"I think you're bigger than my dad but I can probably find you some sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt."
"That would be great. Any chance I could take a hot shower? And if there's any dry wood, we should get a fire going in that cave Doug calls a fireplace."
"Yeah, it's kind of a huge cavern, isn't it? There's wood stacked over there. Probably some kindling and I hope matches. Let me go find you clothes. I guess you can use the guest bathroom in the Blue Room. That's…"
"I know where all the bedrooms are. Take my briefcase and my overnight bag, please. I think I managed to not get the contents too wet. How about we light some candles?"
"I don't know where he keeps them." Sara set the case down on the floor. It might leave marks on the wood tables.
"I see a few right here." Mathew waved his arm.
Sara scanned the room. "These are decorations."
"I'll buy him new ones." Mathew shrugged out of his jacket and before she knew what happened, unfastened his pants and stepped out of them.
"Uh…"
"I don't want to drip all over his oriental rugs. Grab those matches and hand me a candle."
She hurried to the fireplace, still using her phone and flashlight, and retrieved the wooden matches, then picked up a heavy candleholder from a shelf. "Here." She handed it to him.
He scraped the match on an end table and laughed when she moved to stop him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt Doug's precious antiques. If I do, I'll replace the
m. I've got plenty of money."
He spoke the last words casually, not like he was bragging, but stating a fact.
"There. Better." He touched the flame to the wick, illuminating his face fully.
Oh dear.
Mathew was hot. Sculpted cheekbones highlighted a rugged face, the kind that had seen plenty of sun, ocean, and joy. Laugh lines framed his eyes and mouth. A mouth that now turned up into a knowing grin and eyes that watched her watching him. He put the candleholder on the table.
"Step close, into the light. Let me look at you."
She did, glad for the shadows that hid a blush she felt creeping up her face.
"Pretty Sara, all grown up. You look a lot different from your pictures."
She shuffled her feet. "I quit sending him pictures after high school. And he never asked for any."
"He should have."
Enough of this scrutiny. "I'll find you some clothes and bring them to the Blue Room. There are towels in the bathroom."
She turned and headed to the staircase, his gaze like a warm ray of sun on her back.
Chapter 2
Mathew Stephens. Sara racked her brain as she headed to the master bedroom. Had she ever heard Doug mention this guy before? Probably not, since they rarely discussed anything personal. A real estate investment project? Her father hadn't mentioned that either. She stuck the flashlight in her mouth and dug through his chest of drawers, where she thought he might keep his workout clothes. There. A loose pair of sweat pants and a workout shirt. Hopefully they would fit her visitor.
A shiver crept along her spine as she thought of the view she'd already had of Mathew's body. Nice. Even in the dim light she'd seen he was well built. Long, muscular legs, a solid torso. He looked younger than her dad. For just a moment, she allowed the vision of his smiling face and the sound of his husky voice to bring warmth to her heart. This guy seemed like fun. He called her pretty.
But so had Kyle, once upon a time.
Shaking her head to keep the memories away, she went down the hall to the Blue Room, named for the hideous turquoise paint on the walls. This house was so big, they had to have some way to keep track of all the rooms. Opening the door to the bedroom, the scent of pine and something citrusy, orange maybe, came wafting her way. Must be Mathew's soap, or shampoo. The door to the bathroom was cracked slightly and a mist of steam rolled out. She walked in quietly and set the clothes on the bed. Was that singing she heard?
This guy was a little too cheerful. She'd be crabby as all hell if her car got a flat, she had to walk a quarter of a mile, and then got interrogated on a porch. While wet and cold. Descending the stairs, she allowed a small smile. This evening might be more interesting than she'd planned.
At the fireplace, she wadded up newspapers and gathered sticks of kindling. It had been a long while since she'd built a fire, but she recalled the basics. A few small logs on top of the tinder, then larger ones once it caught.
"You must have been a Girl Scout."
Sara whirled around to see Mathew leaning on the wall, watching her. Orange, definitely. He smelled like orange. And looked like a Greek god. His legs seemed even longer in the tight pants, and the shirt clung to his torso, showing muscles that took a bit of work to achieve. So he was a vain, rich guy. Even worse than just plain rich. His mouth curved into a slow smile, like he knew the effect he had on her racing heart. Thankful again for the low light to hide her pink cheeks, she turned back to her task.
"No, not a Girl Scout. But I know how to build a fire."
"I'd be happy to take over there, if you'll hunt up some food. I'm starving."
As if on cue, her own stomach rumbled. "Me too. I think there's a few slices of pizza left. If you don't mind it cold."
"That sounds delicious. I lived on cold pizza in college. Any chance there'd be a beer to go with that?"
Happy to escape to the kitchen, she grabbed the box of pizza and a bottle of beer from the refrigerator. She hoped pale ale worked for him. Mathew didn't seem like the picky type. Sara preferred wine, so she perused the rack in the kitchen. Probably not the really good stuff. That would be in the cellar and no way would she dive into that dark pit. She should call Lucy and ask her which brand from the kitchen selection would be decent.
Oh shit! She forgot to call Lucy and let her know she was safe from the mysterious doorbell ringer. Right on cue, her phone vibrated with a text.
What's going on? U ok?
Fine. Guy at door is Dads friend. Nice guy.
Sara pondered a minute, then couldn't resist.
Cute 2.
What? Tell more.
Gotta go. Pizza party.
More!
Sara smiled, turned the volume all the way down and stuck the phone in her pocket. Deciding to make the meal a little classy, she slid the pizza slices out of the box and onto a plate, and put the beer and wine on a tray. There. Not too bad, considering she did this all by the beam of a flashlight. Picking up the tray she headed back to the living room.
Warmth and light hit her as soon as she turned the corner. Much better. Mathew had lit more candles and the place looked extremely inviting. She made a mental note, burn candles more often.
Of course, having this incredibly appealing guy in the room helped. He had his long legs propped on a coffee table, head reclined on the back of the couch, and his eyes closed. He looked exhausted. Still cute, but exhausted. She set the tray down quietly and studied him again. Younger than her dad, by a few years. Those laugh lines added to his good looks, making him appear mature, but not old. Brown hair, with some blond highlights shone in the firelight.
"You don't get many men to look at where you come from?" He didn't open his eyes, didn't move while asking the question. "You're staring at me again."
Damn it, was he magic, he could see through his eyelids? "I'm just trying to see if I can place you, in any pictures my dad has shown me."
Good save.
"You'll see one on the shelf, next to the big window. When your dad and I were in Africa."
She set the tray down and he popped open the beer, then dug into the pizza. Sara wandered over to the window to find it. Africa. Hunting some poor animal for a trophy, no doubt. Rich guy games.
"I was just heading off for a stint for Doctors Without Borders. Doug was there at the same time, doing some pro bono work for the group. We managed to meet up, got someone to take a picture. It turned out pretty good, so we kept it.
There. Her dad and Mathew, posed in front of a gorgeous sunset in an exotic background. Mathew had a slight beard and longish hair and her dad, he looked happy. Really happy. She didn't know he'd done volunteer work as a lawyer.
"You're a doctor?"
"Was. Couldn't deal with the insurance companies and the political bullshit."
"What do you do now?"
"Whatever I want. I made a few good investments. Really good. I don't have to work anymore. At least not at something I don't enjoy."
What do you enjoy, she almost asked, but bit her tongue. This guy radiated a powerful sensual energy, and no doubt his list of enjoyable activities would make her pulse race. Faster than it did now.
"Tell me about this investment project you're working on with my dad."
Something safe and boring.
"It's not terribly exciting. How about we talk about you. Your father mentions you all the time, but doesn't go into much detail."
What? A guy who didn't want to talk about himself? Odd. Sara continued to peruse the pictures on the shelf. Doug had kept one of their family, him, her and her mom, tucked away in the back. She wiped off the light coat of dust and studied it. How happy they all looked.
"I'm not terribly exciting either. I live in Maplewood, I'm an admin assistant, and I hang out with my friends."
"I'm sure there's more to you than that. Come on over and eat. I opened your wine for you."
Yes, wine. Maybe that would settle her nerves. Something about Mathew did funny things to her lady parts. His voic
e, lord, like liquid heat, sliding along her nerve endings. Moisture formed between her thighs just listening to him talk.
She chose a chair opposite the couch and grabbed a piece of pizza and a glass of wine.
"Sorry, I ate mine already. My table manners are non-existent tonight. I'm starving."
Yet he still left her two pieces. How thoughtful was that?
"You can have another piece, if you want. I'm not that hungry. Really, I'd like to know about the project. Unless it's top secret."
"Nothing like that." Mathew grabbed the last slice. "There are a few vacant houses in a low-rent district in Clayton. Your dad and I are thinking of buying them, fixing them up, and turning them over to a veteran's group to rent to homeless vets."
Holy crap! Who was this guy? Jesus?
"Mathew, why do you do all this charity work? And why is my dad involved?"
He licked sauce off his fingers, a move that produced more heat in the room than the blazing fire.
"Call me Matt. I've been fortunate in life. I've managed to amass a great deal of money, but I remember what it's like to be down. People helped me then, and I want to help others now. Your dad, I've always been after him to be more of a philanthropist. I think that stint in Africa pushed him in the right direction. Slowly."
Matt tapped his briefcase with a toe. Damn, even his feet were sexy.
"This deal will benefit a lot of people. And you know who really ends up feeling good?" He pointed to his chest. "Me, that's who. Doug is figuring that out too. When you give to others, you get ten times back. Why don't you come over here? Better view of the fire. I'll put another log on."
He stood and went to the fireplace. The guy moved like a person who knew exactly what he was doing at all times. Sure, and in control. What an odd combination of power and kindness. He picked up her empty glass, along with the bottle, and moved them to the coffee table. Had she already drunk a whole glass of wine? It rarely took more than one to make her tipsy.
"Come on, sit next to me. I won't bite." He refilled her glass.
Yeah, sure he wouldn't. Pushing away the image of his teeth on her dark skin, she rose and sat on the couch. Not terribly close.
"Tell me what you do for fun. I'll bet you don't spend all your free time hanging out with your friends. Doug says you're on your computer a lot. You don't strike me as a Facebook fiend, are you?"
