But in a moment they were out on the sidewalk. Matt nodded to and greeted friends and neighbors as they walked back to the truck, stopping only to buy them both soft drinks from an ancient machine in front of the drugstore. He was so casual, Brynn relaxed her guard, deciding she’d imagined the look on his face.
Once inside the truck, she relaxed further as they rolled down the road, the autumn breeze riffling her hair. Lifting the soda can to her lips, she took a deep swallow.
Matt broke the quiet, staring ahead as the truck picked up speed and he shifted gears. “Tell me, how’d Gregory manage to propose in a hot-air balloon when he’s terrified of heights?”
Spluttering, Brynn all but spat out her cola. The rest of the liquid went down the wrong pipe. Choking and coughing, she gulped for air.
Matt flicked a glance in her direction. “Something I said?”
It took her a few moments to get her voice back, longer to regain her equilibrium. “Ah...no.” She held up her can as a weak defense. “It went down the wrong way.”
“And Gregory? He didn’t bail out of the balloon when it got ten feet off the ground?”
Brynn looked desperately out the window, wishing she could bail out herself. Urgently recalling Stephanie’s ingenious ways. “Well... You see... Gregory wanted to overcome his fear of heights. It’s something he was really working on. First we’d go to the Club at the Top in the Hilton and work on sitting next to the windows.” Her brain scrambled frantically, trying to think of something other than a mountain they could have climbed. “Then we’d go to Lagoon and ride the sky tram across the park.”
“Lagoon?” Matt asked incredulously. “Gregory didn’t even like ‘mini-Disneyland’ when he was a kid.”
“We didn’t go for the amusement factor,” she insisted, wondering when that lightning was going to get her. “Just for the practice of being up that high.”
She dared a glance at him. He was definitely skeptical.
“And then...” She paused. Was her voice getting higher with every lie? “We rode the ski lift at Snowbird to have lunch at the top.”
The look that crossed Matt’s face wasn’t promising.
“I guess that’s what made him decide to propose in the balloon,” she concluded, knowing how lame her story sounded. “Because he’d been working so hard at conquering his fear of heights.”
The silence wasn’t thick; it was impenetrable.
Brynn fiddled with the can in her hands, nearly lifted it to take another swallow, reconsidered and decided it wasn’t worth choking to death to lift the oppressive gloom.
But when Matt did speak, she jumped as his voice broke the quiet. “So Gregory overcame his fear of heights?”
Brynn pushed at her glasses. “Not completely. But then I guess no one ever totally conquers a fear like that.” She resolutely studied the passing scenery, concentrating as though there would be a quiz.
“Sounds like Gregory did a lot of things be never had before.”
“Like I said, love...” She glanced up, meeting Matt’s gaze. There was something there—that same something she’d seen before. Whatever it was, she couldn’t complete the thought, couldn’t put the words between them again.
“Changes people,” he finished for her. “So you said.”
Brynn had the urge to tell him the truth, to explain why she’d carried out the charade, how it had seemed like the right thing to do, but how she now realized it had to stop.
“I guess it’s a good thing it can change people.” This time Matt didn’t meet her gaze. “Otherwise you and Gregory wouldn’t be married. And right now, you’re what’s keeping Dad going. The others, too.” His hands tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll leave the measuring for another day and head back to the lodge, but don’t let on to Dad. I don’t want him deciding he has to help me.”
Brynn’s confession died in her throat. What if she told all and Frank took a turn for the worse? She never should have started the whole charade, but ending it now could be even worse.
RESTLESS AFTER HER fluctuating emotions and verbal games of the afternoon, Brynn roamed the lobby, picked up several magazines, then replaced them without reading a single article. Another phone call to the State Department had proved fruitless. Frank, looking pale had retired after learning there was no news of his eldest son. While the scent of the nearly always burning fireplace was usually comforting, even the gentle embers did little to soothe her. Nor had the hot tea, cocoa and spiced cider. Asking for warm milk was just too embarrassing.
Although a satellite dish provided over a hundred channels to choose from, television didn’t interest her, either. She kept remembering the look in Matt’s eyes, her own response, and the electricity that smoldered between them. It was ridiculous. He was Gregory’s brother. Nothing more. And Gregory was the man she loved, the one she dreamed of, the one she wanted to share her future with. Then why did she keep remembering Matt’s long, tall body, his strong hands, his lionlike eyes, the glint of gold where his hair parted naturally. And why had an ugly spurt of envy clawed her when she’d seen Jean’s interest in him?
None of it was warranted. None of it made sense. She’d pledged her heart to Gregory. With a start Brynn realized she hadn’t opened the wedding album in more than a few days. Actually she couldn’t remember exactly when she’d last pored over it. Worrying about that was silly, she tried to dismiss. She’d simply been caught up in her work, the newness of her surroundings... and Matt MacKenzie.
It was stress, she decided. At home, she walked several miles a day, draining away the tension. She simply hadn’t had enough exercise. A swim perhaps. In the warm mineral-spring pool, then a relaxing soak in the adjoining hot tub.
Just what the doctor ordered, she decided, heading upstairs. The medicinal benefits of genuine mineral water, relaxation under a blanket of stars, and the quiet of a mountain evening.
Ruth had already provided her with a swimsuit. She’d brought it up, along with several pairs of jeans and an assortment of tops and sweaters. And under the cover of darkness, Brynn knew she could be anonymous and unnoticed, both of which appealed to her.
It didn’t take long to change. Brynn glanced at her reflection in shock. The swimsuit was little more than an abbreviated scrap of material. Although she eyed it dubiously, she was driven by her restlessness. Besides, no one would see her in the dark.
Wrapping herself in a thick terry robe, Brynn ventured down the back staircase, glad for the discreet employee exit. Once outside, she felt the chill and shivered briefly in the robe, pulling it close as she continued toward the pool, seeing the steam of the warm water rise into the cool night.
At the edge of the pool, she slipped off her glasses and robe and climbed down the concrete steps, her body sighing at the pleasure of warm bubbling water. She swam laps without counting, pushing her muscles until the relaxation kicked in. Then she flipped onto her back, kicking gently to keep afloat.
The water’s healing force worked its magic. Heavy languor invaded her body, weighing down her limbs, eroding her agitation. No longer feeling a need for the space of the oversize pool and relishing the thought of relaxing in even warmer water, Brynn remembered the nearby hot tubs. In addition to the two large ones on the west side of the pool, there was a smaller tub on the opposite side, one she guessed would be empty since it was situated away from the main traffic. Even that smaller tub had built-in benches for relaxation, ones she could stretch out on. Ones that sounded infinitely appealing.
As she pulled herself from the pool, the shock of cool air chilled her skin. Brynn grabbed her glasses, then walked the short distance to the isolated in-ground hot tub and slid into the small confined space, the mineral water bubbling around her as she searched in the dark for the bench. This was the perfect prescription. Brynn couldn’t remember feeling more relaxed.
She stumbled a bit, having forgotten that the benches were staggered around the perimeter, then rea
ched out to steady herself. Instead of cement, she connected with a firm wall of muscled flesh.
Her serenity fled as she jerked backward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was in here.”
A familiar male voice floated toward her along with billows of steam. “It’s okay.” Then that rich, utterly masculine laugh. She could see Matt’s white teeth flash in the dark. “I don’t bite—very hard.”
Brynn felt awash—literally. Her limited experience with men didn’t include hot tubs. What would Stephanie do? Gulping, Brynn attempted for her character’s flip voice. “And how do I know you’ve had your shots?”
He didn’t reply for a moment and she assumed she’d blown it.
“Guess you’ll have to take your chances.”
A sliver of moonbeam illuminated his face and Brynn drew in an unexpected breath. Surely it wasn’t an invitation she read there. Had her own words or tone been too suggestive?
The sultry heat of the tub pulsed between them. The space was suddenly smaller, unmistakably intimate. And her eyes, accustomed now to the dark, watched the garlands of steam curling around his head. Then her gaze slowly lowered, drifting over his powerful shoulders, the impressive muscles of his broad chest. Her throat dried, she forgot to swallow, and yet she continued to stare.
When she finally raised her eyes back to the level of his, she saw that he was taking an inventory of his own. Feeling every inch the skinny teenager she’d once been, Brynn drew back. As she did, he moved forward, standing in the tub, revealing a lean torso and whipcord-tight abs. Had she thought she wasn’t attracted to the physical sort? She truly had been young and foolish.
She scrabbled for her footing, stepping up to the next level and vaulting toward the top. But Matt’s voice stopped her.
“Aren’t going to leave me out here all alone, are you?”
Was that a mocking edge she’d heard in his words? Or was her overactive imagination going at warp speed? She turned back to him slowly. “You were out here alone before.”
“So I was.” And at the time he’d thought it was exactly what he wanted. A solitary tub to soak in, to rinse away the unwanted thoughts he’d been having. And then the object of those thoughts had literally fallen into his lap. He should be encouraging her to leave, not inviting her to stay.
Despite the blackness of the night, the quarter moon had provided enough light to clearly see the curves her new tailored clothes had hinted at. Curves that dripped sensuously with a sheen of moisture from the pool. His gaze followed the trickle of water that beaded beneath her chin, then lowered to the lush spill of high breasts, the curve of her tiny waist, the womanly flare of her hips, the shapely long legs—legs he could envision tangling with his own.
He’d never coveted his brother’s girlfriends, never competed with him in that arena. And that cooperation had come naturally, without discussion, without problem. He and Gregory had never been attracted to the same type of woman. Matt had easily put his brother’s girlfriends in a detached part of his mind, treating them like he would a kid sister.
So why was it that nothing he felt about Brynn was brotherly? While she really didn’t seem suited to Gregory, and her stores about him sounded like they belonged in the funny papers, why had he kept challenging their relationship? Pushing her to what? Declare his brother had no claim on her?
Then what? He conveniently moved in for the kill? Having spent the last hour on the phone, fruitlessly trying to find out more information about Gregory, Matt considered that the ultimate betrayal. He should be feeling protective of Brynn, guarding his brother’s interests.
Not cultivating his own. His eyes fastened on the betraying pulse at her throat, fluttering wildly out of control, and the agitated rising of her barely contained breasts. And he knew it wasn’t a problem he faced alone.
The quarter moon outlined her body, poised to flee, and Matt closed his eyes to the possibilities. Instead, he made his voice deliberately casual. “You’re right. I was out here alone. While you’re welcome to stay, I think I’ll be going in. I have an early date with a ski lift.”
“I...I believe I’ll be going in, too.” Her smile was strained. “I think I’ve had enough for one night.”
Sprinting out of the tub, Brynn paused only long enough to retrieve her robe and belt it around her body. Then she ran. Watching her until she disappeared, Matt spoke into the suddenly empty darkness. “And I’ve had enough, too.”
Chapter Eight
Unable to resist, Brynn dug through the trunk that had been brought down to her room from the attic. She hadn’t planned to, but the lure of all those memories drew her. Rising before dawn after a nearly sleepless night, she had plenty of time to kill, not wanting to disturb anyone else.
Unfolding a parasol, Brynn twirled it above her head, imagining the lazy days of summer, women in frilly, pastel dresses, men in seersucker suits. Gregory fit that image perfectly, with his polished good looks and affinity for equally eye-catching clothes. Closing her eyes, she imagined strolling along, arm in arm with him.
But the image wasn’t as strong as she would have liked.
Instead, Gregory’s likeness faded, was replaced by a stronger, taller man, one whose powerful presence dominated, especially when he effortlessly picked her up, carrying her away to unknown delights.
With a little shake she brought herself back to the present, glancing around to make sure she was still alone. She hated being caught in one of her daydreams. More than that, she hated having Matt take over those dreams, pushing Gregory out.
How had that happened? She’d loved Gregory since the moment she’d first seen him. And reading about him in the papers, learning about his status in and commitment to the community, she’d found him to be an admirable man. His quick smiles on the jogging path told her that he was kind, sensitive—the sort of man she wanted to spend her life with.
So why was Matt threatening to take his place in her fantasies?
Purposely she turned back to the trunk, trying to forget the unwanted visions. Moments later she was lifting out layers of the MacKenzies’ past.
A baby’s christening dress, delicately embroidered linen handkerchiefs, a hand-crocheted lace collar. Brynn’s fingers closed around something heavier, solid-feeling. Pulling the bundle from the trunk, she discovered it was a leather-bound book. Tracing her fingers over the flower-embossed cover, she outlined the word Journal and the date beneath it—some thirty years earlier. She wondered if she dared open the book, to intrude on thoughts put to paper so long ago. Slowly she lifted the cover and stared at the flyleaf. “Journal of Miranda Rose MacKenzie.”
Deciding that she would be violating Miranda’s privacy, Brynn closed the cover and reached into the trunk to return the journal. As she did, a photograph floated from the book, apparently disturbed when the journal had been opened.
Picking up the photo, she intended to put it back when the faces in the picture caught her attention. One looked like a young Miranda, hand in hand with a handsome man. Their faces reflected happiness and another quality—love.
Curious, Brynn turned the photo over. “Miranda and Neil. Always.”
Brynn wondered what had happened to change “always.” And what had happened to Neil.
A knock on the door interrupted her musings. Hurriedly replacing the picture, Brynn called out. “Come in.”
“Hello, my dear,” Ruth greeted her. “I hate to disturb you....” She looked at the tumble of things that had been retrieved from the trunk. “I don’t know, on second thought, maybe you’ll be glad I did.”
Brynn smiled. “I love all this.”
Ruth rolled her eyes. “I guess it’s good that someone does. But frankly, I can’t imagine why.” She picked up the christening dress. “Although some things are worth looking at again.”
“Gregory’s?” Brynn guessed.
Ruth gave the material a little pat, before laying the dress down. “Yes.” She finned lips that had begun to tremble. “Now, before I start crying
again I should tell you why I’ve bothered you.”
“You’re not bothering—”
“I am, but I have a good reason. First, the State Department said they’ll proceed to step two in the negotiations. I’m not sure what that means, but I’m taking it as good news.”
Brynn smiled. “My fingers are crossed.”
Ruth crossed her own fingers. “Mine, too. Also, Matt plans to go back to Plum Ridge today and Frank’s making noises that he should be going. But the thin altitude makes his breathing even more difficult, and he won’t take along his portable oxygen tank. At least here I can nag him into using it. I know it’s an imposition, but I thought that perhaps since you helped Matt the other day, I could talk you into going again today. More measuring, I believe. If you head downstairs and snag Matt in front of him, I think Frank will assume you set this up the last time you were on the ridge.”
“Oh.” Another trip alone with Matt. Would her nerves take it? She could hardly tell Ruth they hadn’t made it to Plum Ridge the other day. Or why.
“I know taking measurements isn’t much fun, but I’m so worried about Frank....”
A picture of his fragile condition flashed through Brynn’s mind. “I don’t expect to be entertained. Actually...just being here is entertainment in itself.” More like a complicated set of entanglements. But ones she needed to get a grip on. Maybe today could be a new beginning—a chance to wipe the slate clean, to see Matt in a proper light.
Ruth’s expression relaxed into a loving one. “Gregory certainly found a treasure in you.” After enveloping her in a spontaneous hug, Ruth left.
Brynn stared after her. Treasure? She had a feeling by the time this charade played itself out, her nerves wouldn’t be fit for the junk pile.
PLUM RIDGE ROSE BEYOND the crest of the foothills, eclipsed only by the white-capped peaks of the tallest mountains. Silverleafed aspens trembled in the soft breeze, while overhead miles of unobstructed blue dipped to meet the wild grass.
The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie Page 10
