by Webb, Peggy
One by one the carrousel music boxes wound down. The last notes of The Way We Were died away, leaving a sad stillness in the room.
Her arms loosened and her body went slack. She couldn't bring herself to make love with Hunter, not even to seek vengeance. She'd almost surrendered because of love remembered. She'd come so close, she was shaken. Her game of revenge was dangerous, more dangerous than she'd ever imagined. At that moment she fully understood the risks she was taking. Hunter was a practiced lover, a spellbinding man. If she weren't very careful, she'd find herself believing that she could fall in love with him again.
No.. This was neither the time nor the place to finish the game she'd started. Another day, perhaps, after she'd gotten a better perspective.
Hunter immediately sensed the change in her. Lifting his head, he gazed into her eyes. "Mattie?"
"No, Hunter. Get up."
A fleeting look of pain crossed his face. Then he smiled. "Not before breakfast, huh?"
"No. Not before breakfast." She hid her vulnerability behind a brittle facade. Play the game. Dangle the bait, pull back, make him crazy, then break his heart. As she looked up at him she wondered why she wasn't gloating over her success.
"Breakfast before pleasure, then," he said. "You always did have the appetite of a stevedore." He sat up and reached for the breakfast tray. Shoving the gardenias aside, he placed it on the bed between them.
"Breakfast instead of pleasure." She reached over and patted his face. "For today, at least. I don't intend to keep a man like you waiting forever." She gave him the look of sizzling promise that had caused more than one sheik to swear off harems.
Two days ago Hunter would have reveled in that look, but today it made him angry and somewhat sad. He wanted to grab her and shout, Don't you dare play the flirt with me. Instead he smiled ruefully. What had he expected? He wanted her anyway. As he poured the coffee, he decided that the tricks of fate weren't always easy to live with.
"Coffee's hot, Mattie." He handed her a cup. "And so am I. I'd advise you not to jiggle."
"I’ll leave jiggling to the likes of Gwendolyn. I writhe."
The images that remark created made Hunter want to smash his fist into the wall. "No doubt."
She tucked the sheet securely over her breasts, and sipped her coffee. "Is it your habit to shower your women with flowers before breakfast?" She nodded toward the gardenias, which were being crushed against the mattress.
He grinned. "Jealous, Mattie?"
"No. Just curious. It's been so long. I'd like to learn your mating habits, so I’ll know what to expect next time."
"You used to like surprises."
"I don't anymore. The last surprise I had—" She stopped in mid-sentence. She'd almost confessed to Hunter, her enemy, that the last surprise she'd had almost destroyed her. That would never do.
She tossed her head and laughed. "The last surprise I had cost me a small fortune. I'd taken Pierre's car to the Champs de Mars. I didn't know the brakes were bad. I ran over two merry-go-rounds and three puppet booths and almost hit the Eiffel Tower before I could stop."
"You could have been killed. What's the matter with that fool? Why didn't he tell you his brakes weren't working?"
"He didn't know I'd borrowed the car. There'd been a party at his chateau. I just suddenly decided to leave." She deliberately left out all the best parts of the story- how Pierre had not been satisfied with heated kisses and empty promises, how he'd been more insistent than the rest, how he'd nearly ripped her dress off before she'd pushed him into the fountain.
She looked at Hunter over the rim of her cup. If you only knew what I've gone through trying to forget you.
Hunter balled his hands into fists. He hated them all. Pierre and the ones whose names he didn't know. He hated all of Mattie's lovers. He hated them so fiercely, it scared him. Forcing himself to calm down, he reached across the crushed gardenias and touched her cheek. "I’ll see to it that you never get another sudden urge to leave me, Mattie."
She meant to say something bright and frivolous. She meant to be sophisticated and brittle and worldly wise.
Instead she whispered, "Another?"
"Yes." He caressed her face. "Why did you go?"
"Not again, Hunter. Don't ask me again."
"I intend to find out, you know."
"Why?"
He looked deep into her eyes. Now was not the time to say he was falling in love with her. Too much had happened between them. If he intended to win Mattie—and he did—he'd have to take it one step at a time.
"Call it stubbornness," he said. "Call it ego. A man doesn't like to think he's been jilted for no reason at all."
She sucked in her breath. She had a sudden vision of her mother's beautiful, tear-stained face. All her love for her mother and her rage at Hunter surfaced. "No reason at all!" she shouted.
Her violent reaction startled Hunter. He tightened his hold. "What happened ten years ago, Mattie?"
His innocent act almost fooled her. She almost confronted him with the ugly truth—as if he didn't already know. Instead she brushed his hand away. At least his statement had served some purpose. It had restored her sanity. She fought for and gained the control she needed.
"Consider yourself forewarned, Hunter. I don't need any reason to walk away. I jilt men like you every day just for the fun of it."
"Not this time, Mattie." He handed her a piece of toast. "Eat your breakfast. You're going to need your strength."
Then he walked out of the room.
Mattie looked thoughtfully at the closed door. "You don't scare me, Hunter Chadwick." She nibbled a small piece of toast, took a big bite, then spread on the strawberry jam. She ate everything on her tray except the coffeepot. Getting the best of Hunter was going to take all the strength she could muster.
o0o
Two days later Hunter sat in Phillip Houston's study. He'd made sure Mattie wasn't home. He'd seen her leave thirty minutes before with another of those Neanderthal men she seemed to prefer.
"I'll come right to the point, Mr. Houston. I've never stopped loving your granddaughter."
"Took you a hell of a long time finding it out, didn't it?" Phillip sat staunchly behind his massive desk, keeping the interview on a formal level. He wasn't going to make it easy for Hunter. Much as he liked the boy, he was going to make certain he never hurt Mattie again.
"Ten years is a long time," Hunter said. "I don't blame you for being suspicious. I suppose the ignorance and foolish pride of youth kept me from going after her sooner."
To Hunter's surprise, Phillip laughed. "Ignorance and foolish pride are not limited to the young. I've seen some old coots who've cornered the market on those commodities. Your Uncle Mickey, for one. And from time to time I've been guilty myself. Not often, mind you. But often enough to let me know I'm not nearly as perfect as I'd like to believe."
Hunter was eager to get on with his pursuit of the past, but he could see that Phillip was enjoying expounding on the topic. He'd already waited ten years, and figured a few more minutes wouldn't kill him.
"You’ve always impressed me," he said. "And I consider Uncle Mickey as nearly perfect as any person I know."
"Get him to tell you about Mrs. Cleary sometime. Damn foolish business, if I ever heard it. Told him so at the time, but you know Mickey. Stubborn as a mule."
Hunter laughed. "Sometimes he can be. Dad always says it's a Langston family trait."
"I'll bet Eleanor doesn't take that sitting down. A regular spitfire, your mom is. Always did admire her. I used to wish William had exercised as much judgment as Rafe Chadwick in choosing a wife." Phillip looked off into space. "Yessir, that Eleanor is one helluva fine woman."
"Thank you. The next time I see her, I'll tell her you said so."
"Where are Rafe and Eleanor?"
"They're spending the summer at their Lake Tahoe place."
"Beautiful country. Wouldn't mind being there myself. Of course, Mrs. Cleary and that granddaughter
of mine think I'm getting too old to travel." He stood up and executed a perfect roundhouse kick. "Did you see that, boy? Does that look like an old man to you?"
"A man of thirty-five would be proud of that karate kick." Hunter relaxed in his chair. It looked as if this interview was going to take a long time.
Phillip sat back down and leaned forward across his desk. "What do you plan to do about it?"
"Sir?"
"My granddaughter. You said you loved her. What do you plan to do about it?"
"I plan to marry her."
"Has she said yes?"
"She doesn't know it yet."
"I guess I don't understand these newfangled courtships. Mattie off over yonder and you in Dallas. Waiting ten years. In my day, love wasn't so complicated."
"Ours is more complicated than most. You see, I don't even know why Mattie left me in the first place. That's one of the reasons I'm here. I want to find out."
Phillip propped his elbows on his desk and put his fingertips together. "I've always wondered about that myself."
So not even Phillip knew. Hunter could almost taste the bitterness of his disappointment.
"Did anything unusual happen the day she returned my ring?" he asked.
"Not that I recall. Let me see, now…” Phillip's fingers tapped lightly together as he looked backward in time. "That was the same week her mother came. William stayed in London on business. I remember how happy Mattie was. She showed her mother the ring that night at dinner. I didn't notice anything unusual."
"Was Victoria pleased? Mattie was only eighteen."
Hunter was not the son of a famous lawyer for nothing. In his desperation, he'd try anything, even questioning Phillip like a trial attorney.
"Nothing Mattie ever did pleased that woman." Phillip's lips were white with anger. "She was a self-centered, egotistical witch who cared about nothing except keeping lines off that famous face of hers and seeing how many men she could flaunt in front of William." His face became haggard as he remembered the humiliation his son had suffered. "Poor William. He always made excuses for her. He said she never actually did anything with the men, that she just kept them around to affirm her beauty. I knew better. If he'd ever admitted the truth to himself, I think it would have killed him."
"I'm sorry. 1 didn't mean to dredge up painful memories."
Phillip held up a steady hand. "That's all right. From time to time I let the bitterness out. Keeps it from poisoning the system."
"I guess that's what I'm trying to do: decipher the bitterness that's still between Mattie and me." He stood up to leave. "Thank you for being so frank with me."
"Wait. It seems there was more, if I can just remember it." Phillip grinned. "Sometimes the body's easier to keep in shape than the mind."
Hunter sat back down.
"I remember," Phillip continued. "A couple of days after Victoria got home, you and Mattie went on a picnic. Mattie came back laughing, all aglow with sunshine and smiles."
Phillip paused. Hunter remembered that day. Mattie had been exuberant, joyful . . . and especially loving. And the next day, she'd returned his ring.
"It was late at night," Phillip continued. "I could hear them talking."
Hunter tensed, leaned forward. "Who?"
"Victoria and Mattie. The following day, they left to join William in London."
"After she'd returned my ring," Hunter said grimly. "What did Victoria say to her?"
"I used to wonder that myself. But neither of them ever mentioned it, and I respected their privacy. Especially Mattie’s."
Hunter stood up and shook Phillip's hand. "Thank you. You've given me something to go on."
"I'm not sure she ever got over you, boy. I've never believed that wild lifestyle of hers was anything more than a cover-up. Mattie would deny it with her last breath, but deep down she's a sweet girl." He clapped his hand on Hunter's shoulder. "I don't want to see her hurt again."
"I can promise you one thing, Mr. Houston. I’ll never hurt Mattie."
Phillip grinned. "Call me Papa."
CHAPTER SIX
It took Mattie three days to get over her encounter with Hunter. First she tried to reduce his appeal by going out with other men. Chuck proved to be the best antidote. He had nothing on his mind except impressing her with the number of men he'd knocked out in the boxing ring and flexing his muscles for her.
"Feel that," he'd say. "This sucker packs a punch. Nobody will mess around with you as long as Chuck ‘the Gorilla’ Bucy is with you."
He was as uncomplicated as popcorn— and exactly what she needed in order to get her life back into perspective.
But the cure was only temporary.
Next she sought refuge in her favorite pastime—poker. Papa Houston was pressed into duty as her partner.
"Five-card stud, Papa. Ante up." Mattie handled the cards like an expert, shuffling, fanning, cutting with the precision of a professional.
"I don't know why I agreed to play with you," Papa grumbled. "You always cheat."
Mattie laughed. She knew he loved cards. "You always say that, because you never win." She quickly dealt two cards each, one face up.
Papa's face card was a king of spades. He lifted the edge of his other card and tried to keep the smile off his face. He was holding a pair of kings and Mattie had a four of hearts showing. He could already taste the victory. Deliberately, he kept his first bid low, to throw his granddaughter off track.
"I’ll bet twenty," he said.
"Call." She dealt two more cards, another king to Papa and a jack to herself. Her face was inscrutable. She played cards the way she did everything else, wholeheartedly and with total concentration. For the first time in three days, Hunter was forgotten.
"Get ready to lose this one, granddaughter."
"You're supposed to play with a poker face."
"The game's no fun if you can't gloat over your winning hand."
"You haven't won yet, Papa."
The bidding became lively as the last two rounds of cards went down. There was laughter and lots of friendly gibing. Both the Houstons loved games and delighted in competition. Besides that, they were fiercely proud of each other. Mattie loved Papa's quick mind and youthful spirit. He loved her vitality and wit and charm.
After the last card was down and the last bid made, Papa fanned his cards on the table.
"Three kings," he announced grandly.
Mattie spread her cards, three fours and two jacks. "Full house. I won, Papa."
His eyes sparkled with humor. "I taught you everything you know."
"You certainly did. That's what I tell them when I go to Monte Carlo."
"I bet they're impressed."
Mattie smiled at her dear Papa. There was nothing shy and retiring about him. She loved that boldness, that arrogance. Suddenly Hunter came to her mind. He was so like Papa in that way.
"They are impressed." She stood up and kissed his cheek. "I have to dress for rehearsal now."
"We’ll have a rematch later. Wow 'em, Mattie."
"I intend to."
As she climbed the stairs, Hunter was very much on her mind. Somehow he had managed to warp her thinking. He kept slipping out of his role of deceiver and becoming the rakish, lovable man she'd first known. The kisses that were intended to be a means of retaliation kept turning into exchanges of heated passion. During the last three days, she'd been so confused, she wasn't sure who was the pursuer and who the pursued. The game she'd started out to play wasn't her game anymore. Hunter kept making it his.
Not today, she decided as she pinned her hair into a careless topknot and zipped herself into a baby-blue jump suit. It was slit nearly to her navel in front and all the way to her waist in the back. And it was calculated to drive Hunter crazy.
She left the house, climbed into her car, and headed for the rehearsal hall. Thank goodness she hadn't been required to attend for the last three days. It had taken her that long to prepare herself for seeing Hunter again. She kep
t conjuring up his string of other women in order to forget the way his kisses made her feel. Even now he entered her mind with such force, she had to struggle to control her emotions.
She was so busy thinking about Hunter, she almost passed the rehearsal hall. Her tires squealed as she braked and swerved sharply into the parking lot. She zoomed haphazardly between the parked cars and brought her Porsche to a rubber-burning stop mere inches from Hunter's Maserati.
He was suddenly beside her car, flinging open her door. "No wonder you wrecked everything in the Champs de Mars," he said. Smiling, he propped his arms on top of her car and leaned close to her face. "What is it about you, Mattie, that excites the hell out of me?"
"Overactive hormones." She smiled sweetly up at him.
He roared with laughter. When his mirth died, he cocked an eyebrow at her and drawled, "Whose? Yours or mine?"
"Both." She started to get out of her car, but he blocked her exit. "You're standing in my way."
"No, I'm not. I'm in exactly the right spot."
"For what?"
"Kidnapping." He reached inside the car and took her keys. "You won't be needing these today."
Still blocking her doorway, he half turned, and motioned toward his car. A grinning young man with freckles and a cowlick emerged from the Maserati.
"Jimmy, take Miss Houston's car home." Hunter dropped the keys into Jimmy's outstretched hand, then bent down and scooped Mattie out of the front seat. Holding her tightly, he strolled around to the driver's side of his car and watched as his gardener, handyman, and sometime chauffeur drove off in Mattie's car.
She glared up at him. This wasn't at all the way things were supposed to work out today. She'd meant to be completely in charge. "Put me down, you pirate."
"Certainly not. I intend to sweep you off your feet, Mattie. How am I doing so far?"
She thought he was doing remarkably well, but she wasn't about to say so. "You're batting zero."
"Maybe this will help." He leaned down, nuzzled her neck and then gave her a kiss that raised the hair on her arms. "Did it?" he asked.
"You're the most arrogant, conceited man in Dallas."
