by Leslie Kelly
Jade muttered a low curse, then sighed heavily. There was no escaping it. This was part of running her own business. “Don’t worry about it, Daisy—I’ll take the tour. Let the clients know I’ll meet them in the parlor of the Winter Garden at nine sharp.”
That’s how Jade ended up knocking on the door to her Uncle Henry’s place at 8:55 p.m. It was dark out, a steamy night full of the calls of cicadas and the scents of the South—wet earth, thick sweet perfumes of the night-blooming jasmine Henry grew around the place, and that spicy, late-night aroma of mystery that Savannah wore around itself like some women wore a heady perfume.
She hardly noticed as she pushed a pair of dark-tinted sunglasses over her puffy red eyes. Hopefully the tour group would think she was merely eccentric and mysterious. Not teary-eyed and heartbroken.
She only hoped she didn’t break anything else by tripping over something in the dark.
“Right this way, Miss Maguire,” Henry’s maid said when she opened the door.
Mutely following the woman to the parlor, Jade stepped inside. Instead of coming in with her, the maid closed the door, leaving Jade alone. “Wait,” she said, realizing no one else was in the room, “there’s nobody…”
That’s when she noticed the flowers. They were everywhere, filling antique vases and delicately cut crystal bowls. They rested on every surface in the room—each table, the mantelpiece, the baby grand piano.
Magnolias. Profusions of the giant flowers, white and moist as if they’d just been cut. And with them, great clumps of orange blossoms. The effect was intoxicating. A mix of sweet, heady perfume and citrus and…
“Coconut oil?”
She yanked her sunglasses off her face, scanning every corner of the room.
“Hello, Jade.”
Ryan.
He rose from a chair in the corner, where he’d been sitting quietly since she’d entered.
She whirled around and reached for the doorknob. It wouldn’t twist. “Uncle Henry,” she said with a groan.
“I asked him to give us five minutes,” Ryan said softly as he crossed the room. “Five minutes for me to try to convince you that even though I’m the biggest loser in the world, you should give me a second chance.”
She clenched her jaw, then her fists, trying to gain control over her wildly swinging emotions. Jade wasn’t ready to deal with this. Not now. Not here. Not while surrounded with these heady smells that reminded her of him. Of them.
The magnolias in the garden that very first wild night. The citrus and coconut from their day at the beach. He’d had her heart clenching with the memories before her brain had the opportunity to force them away.
“You fight dirty,” she whispered, still not turning around to face him.
He touched her shoulder, gently, not demanding, but silently pleading with her to look at him. When the tips of his fingers caressed the side of her neck, she let out a little moan, but remained frozen, staring at the dark wood paneling of the door.
“Let me talk to you, Jade.”
“Go ahead,” she said, fighting to remain stiff and unyielding. “Try to explain why I should believe a word a liar like you would say.”
She could feel his entire body flinch—he was that close. But he didn’t back off. “You’re right. I’m a liar and an untrusting bastard. I came to Savannah to find you and get back a painting I thought you’d stolen from my grandmother.”
She jerked her head to look at him over her shoulder. “What painting?”
He met her stare evenly. “The LeBeuf portrait hanging at the Martinique house.”
The painting she’d acquired last month. The one she’d legally acquired last month.
“She told me you’d stolen it.”
“Who?”
“The woman who gave it to you.” He shook his head in disgust. “My grandmother.”
That shocked her into finally turning around. But she stayed close to the door, backing against it to keep some physical distance between them. Thankfully Ryan didn’t move forward or try to crowd her.
“Those nice people, the Graysons, are your grandparents?”
He nodded.
“Why would she tell you the painting was stolen?”
“I’m not sure you’ll believe this.”
She crossed her arms. “Try me. I happen to be slightly more trusting than some people.”
His eyes flared. She’d scored a hit. She wondered why that didn’t give her even a moment of satisfaction.
“She wanted me to meet you.”
Of all the things she’d expected to hear, that was nowhere near the top five. Ryan’s grandmother had reported her valuable painting stolen because she wanted her grandson to meet the woman who’d supposedly stolen it?
He must have seen her look of derision. “You don’t understand my family. I come from a long line of passionately romantic people.”
Passionate. Oh, she could concede that. In spite of his cool, cultured, big-city facade, Ryan had exhibited depths of passion she’d never before seen in a man, as well as a daring spirit that had totally captivated her from that very first night. “Okay, I can believe that.”
He looked relieved. “Unfortunately, I’ve never really accepted that about myself. My relationships have been okay. Nothing that knocked me off my feet. No one who ever inspired me to think I could fall madly in love, like my parents, grandparents and sister did. That happened to drive my rather controlling grandmother a little crazy.”
She’d liked his grandmother quite a lot, but she could see the potential for controlling. The woman had asked Jade a ton of personal questions during their afternoon together. Including questions about Jade’s love life. And marital status.
“I can’t believe it,” she whispered, bringing her hands to her lips as the truth dawned. “She was matchmaking?”
Ryan nodded, giving a helpless shrug. “She knew I’d never let her set me up. She’s tried that too many times.” He finally stepped closer, touching her arm—a featherlight touch that told her he was being honest but didn’t intimidate. “She also knew you were perfect for me. That you were the soul mate I’d never really believed I had. That I’d fall madly in love with you and be unable to imagine my life without you in it.”
Her heart thudded in her chest. Those green eyes of his, those beautiful eyes that darkened when Ryan was aroused, or sparkled when he was amused, shone clear and bright with the truth of his emotions.
“I love you, Jade. My grandmother’s lie got me down here. But you…once I met you…I never wanted to leave.” He raised his hand to cup her cheek, delicately stroking his fingertips over her cheekbone, wiping away a bit of moisture Jade hadn’t even known had dripped out of her eye. “I’m sorry for what my family did to you. But I’m not sorry I came.” His voice lowered, nearly shaking with intensity as he repeated, “I love you.”
Her heart quivered again and her pulse sped up. Oh, she wanted to believe him. Wanted more than anything to believe him. His words were beautiful, his expression sincere, his touch divine. But it didn’t erase everything that had happened.
“If you love me, how could you believe I’d…I’d be a thief?” Her voice broke a little, and she still kept her body stiff and straight, separated from his by mere inches as she demanded an answer to the most important question of all.
“I didn’t, not really,” he admitted.
“You did a good impersonation of it yesterday morning in Mr. Brewer’s apartment.”
He clarified. “I mean, at first, when my grandmother told me you’d stolen from her, I had no choice but to believe. As I got to know you, I realized I wasn’t seeing the whole picture. Then when we visited the Martinique house, and I saw the painting, I began to understand.”
She didn’t quite follow, but she listened as Ryan continued, his fingers still gently caressing her face.
“I know you have a strong conscience, Jade. You have a strong sense of right and wrong, a strong loyalty to this place, its history and its cul
ture. So it suddenly made sense to me, you see, that you’d want to return important artifacts to their rightful places. Like someone might want to return a statue from a looted tomb back to its pyramid in Egypt. You’d never steal for personal gain, only to right an old injustice.”
She saw the honesty in his eyes, the tender smile he didn’t try to hide.
“We were together both before and after we visited the Martinique house,” she whispered, beginning to believe, to open up and take in the warmth radiating off the man.
He nodded. “Yes, we were. I was falling in love with you. Both before and after. But after, I began to understand you. To admire you for doing what you thought was right, even as I was terrified that you’d get hurt or get caught. I was determined to protect you.”
The weight that she’d felt on her shoulders for the past thirty-six hours suddenly seemed to lift. Ryan might have thought she’d stolen something. His own grandmother, who he obviously loved, had flat-out said she had. But once he’d gotten to know her he’d never thought she was a common low thief. Even more, he hadn’t judged her for it. Hadn’t condemned her.
In fact, he’d loved her.
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and trying to analyze her feelings. That breath filled her mind with the scents he’d surrounded her with. All the memories they’d created in the short weeks they’d known each other, the scent memories that would live inside her until the day she died. The ones that would remind her for the rest of her life that she loved this man, and only this man.
Her anger seeped away, replaced not only by understanding and forgiveness, but also heart-clenching love. She lifted a trembling hand and covered his hand on her face, then pulled it to her mouth to press a kiss on his palm.
“Oh, Jade,” he whispered as he drew her close. “Can you forgive me?” He kissed her temple, rubbing his cheek against hers. “Can we call my doubt of you a mix of summer insanity and flower intoxication?”
She laughed softly.
“Not to mention,” he added, “too much of your aunt Lula Mae’s tea and a man who didn’t believe in madness-inspiring love trying to find any reason to escape from his own destiny?”
Destiny. Sounded reasonable. Especially here in this rich, sultry place on this wicked, hot summer night.
“You’re forgiven,” she said, drawing his mouth close to hers for a long, lingering kiss. There was instant fire, as always, but also the slow, languorous, bone-melting emotion that had been present between them from the first night they’d made love—right in this very house.
“I think I can even forgive your grandmother,” she added as they drew apart.
“I paid her back,” Ryan said with a lift of his brow. “Right now she’s so terrified her lies have cost me you forever that she hasn’t even realized how successful her plan actually was.”
Jade laughed softly, picturing the meddlesome woman in just such a state. “Let’s not tell her for a while.”
He joined her laughter. “You’re a wicked woman.”
“You wouldn’t have me any other way.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
She curled her fingers into his hair to hold him close, meeting his stare so she could gift him with the same kind of declaration he’d given her. She’d never said the words to a man because she’d never felt them for anyone but Ryan.
The time had come. She was a Maguire. She loved hard. She’d love only once. She loved him.
“I love you, Ryan. I’ll love you forever.”
He showed her his pleasure by kissing her, tasting her, inhaling her as he held her tightly against his body as if he’d never let her go.
Maybe he wouldn’t.
Which was just fine with Jade.
Epilogue
LYNNETTE GRAYSON SPOTTED the small jewelry box in her husband’s shaving kit as they finished unpacking at the Winter Garden, where they were staying for Thanksgiving weekend. Edward was already anticipating Aunt Lula Mae’s famous cornbread stuffing, so he wasn’t paying attention as his wife began to dig through his things. “What’s this?” she asked.
“That’s nothing,” he said with a harrumph as he tried to snatch the small velvet box from her hand.
She smiled, knowing at once what it meant. When she finally got him to open it and saw the lovely old wedding ring that her late mother-in-law had worn, she sighed in pleasure.
“Keep your nose out of it,” Edward said, shaking his finger at her. “Let the boy propose in his own way. Ryan’s just barely forgiven you for your shenanigans. And if you get yourself uninvited for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow at Jade’s mama’s house, I’ll…I’ll go without you!”
He didn’t mean it, of course. The sparkle in Edward’s fine blue eyes told her he was just as happy as she that her scheme to bring Ryan together with the perfect woman had worked.
She wasn’t one to brag…but she’d really done it. She’d found the right woman for her boy. Ryan was madly in love with Jade Maguire, and she loved him right back. Anyone with eyes could see that.
The only problem was this whole moving to Savannah business. She hadn’t anticipated that. Since when did the man move for the woman? Such things simply weren’t done in her day.
But that’s what had happened. Ryan had quit his job, packed his belongings, loaded that great slobbery dog of his in his car and driven south mere weeks after he’d first heard Jade Maguire’s name. At least he’d found a job quickly, thanks to his work on the article about Savannah’s architecture.
Ah, well, she supposed there were worse things than a grandson who lived several states away and served things like collard greens at Thanksgiving dinner.
Like a grandson who never found his soul mate, never fell madly in love, never truly glowed with happiness.
That would be worse. Much worse.
No worry of that anymore. Not for Ryan. Not for any member of her family. Which was exactly the way Lynnette Grayson planned to keep it.
“Are you ready?” her husband asked as he draped a wrap over her shoulders, giving her a slight squeeze that told her she was forgiven for being so meddlesome. How could he not forgive her, since she’d never known any other way to be?
“More than ready,” she said, already bouncing on her toes with excitement about tonight’s adventure.
Ghosts and murder. Vengeance and love affairs. Scandal and mystery. Yes, she was fully prepared to enjoy an evening with her future granddaughter-in-law, hearing Jade do what she did best—introduce Savannah. And make all who visited fall under her spell.
Just like Ryan had.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-4568-0
WICKEDLY HOT
Copyright © 2004 by Leslie Kelly.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.eHarlequin.com
r: grayscale(100%); -o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share
