“Who are the Polks?” asked Matthew.
There was a collective roar of laughter.
“Did I say something funny?” Matthew demanded. He was tense and unsmiling. The laughter subsided at once.
“Hmm, how does one describe the Polks?” Blaine pondered the question. “Well, I suppose every town has its own notorious clan of degenerates. In Clover, it happens to be the Polks.”
“The Polks are the stereotypical lowlife family-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks,” Tommy Clarke exclaimed. “And they actually do live down by the tracks in their ramshackle housing. They’re a blight on the town.”
Maureen Fitzgerald grinned at Matthew, clearly holding no grudge on her cousin’s behalf. “There are so many good things about Clover, don’t sour our new visitor on the place by telling them about our town pariahs.”
“The Polks are the town pariahs?” Matthew exhaled heavily.
“My family owns the bar and grill here on Clover Street,” Maureen continued. “We regularly evict Polks. They’re forever getting drunk out of their limited minds and fighting with anyone over anything. My dad and uncles have banned some of the Polks for life from our place. One of these days, they’ll all be banned.”
“I will never forget when Jonas Polk stole the poor box at St. John’s Church,” Abby said, frowning her disapproval. “You can’t get much lower than that.”
“Remember when some of those Polk kids were going up and down the street with cans, pretending they were collecting money for a child in the hospital who needed a heart transplant?” Ben shook his head. “It was all a scam. There wasn’t a child who needed a transplant. Those brats just wanted some video-game money. Ford Maguire took them down to the station and read them the riot act!”
“Not that it did much good.” Blaine was no longer smiling. “Shortly after that, a gang of young Polks crashed the Strawberry Festival and stole all the strawberries. We’ve had to hire an off-duty policeman to guard the berries and ice cream every year since.” He brightened. “And speaking of the Strawberry Festival, I want to make a pitch for everybody to come. My mother is chairwoman this year.”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” someone assured him, and the talk turned to Clover’s traditional June fest.
Matthew didn’t join in. He stood stock-still, too stunned by the revelations he’d just heard to move or speak or even breathe. Was Jesse Polk, the man who’d fathered him, one of those Polks who were so heartily despised by all? And with good reason, it appeared. The town pariahs. Notorious degenerates. An ornery gang of drunks and thieves reviled by the good citizens of Clover.
Those people were his relatives? He thought of his adoptive mother and father. They were honest and honorable, well respected and loved by everyone who knew them. As their son, he’d been taught their values. His character and his success had been the result of being raised by them. What if he’d been brought up a Polk? Would he have grown up learning how to rip off churches or con generous people into making donations to a phony cause and God only knows what else?
It didn’t seem possible that the daughter of the exalted Wyndham family could possibly have had a teenage affair with a Polk, son of the town’s lowest clan. Yet here he stood, the living, breathing proof of such a mix.
He glanced down at Hannah to see that she was staring up at him, her expression curious.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You look...strange.”
Matthew frowned. She was too observant, too perceptive. Nobody else at the party had taken note of his reaction. They were all laughing and talking among themselves, reminiscing about past Strawberry Festivals, their discussion of the Polks finished, their interest in Matthew Granger fading, as well.
He supposed he did look strange. How could he not? Learning that his paternal relatives were the untouchables in the Clover caste system had been as shocking as finding out that his maternal side ranked high among the elite. A Wyndham and a Polk. Alexandra and Jesse. It was almost a cliché—the rich girl and the bad boy who seduced her. Or was it the other way around, the rebellious young princess slumming with the town outcast?
Whatever the circumstances, he was the result, and his birth was far from the idyllic story he’d been told by the Grangers. The knowledge was still new enough to hurt.
“In fact, you look almost catatonic.” Hannah surveyed him critically. “I know you have no interest in hearing about the Strawberry Festival, but couldn’t you fake a smile and try to look alert, strictly for politeness’ sake?”
She’d given him a viable out. Matthew took it. “I’m bored, and I don’t believe in faking smiles.”
“I guess small-town life must seem tedious to an ultracool, big-city dweller like yourself.”
“Is that what you think I am? An ultracool, big-city dweller?”
She nodded. “You have that urban edge about you. That northern urban edge.”
“Coming from a member of the plantation set, I don’t think that’s a compliment.”
Hannah didn’t reply. She was trying to launch another war of words between them but she was having trouble working up the necessary hostility. She was too intensely aware of his nearness, of the strength of his hard body touching hers, of his fingers idly caressing the hollow of her waist. Memories of those hot kisses they’d shared assailed her, and she felt conflicting urges to run away from him and to slip back into his arms.
“I’m ready to leave,” Matthew announced. “Do you want to come with me?”
“And go where?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “My car is parked out back. We could drive around and you could point out all of Clover’s landmarks.”
“Go sight-seeing?” She arched her dark brows. “At night, in the dark, in the middle of a raging thunderstorm?”
“I take it that means no. Then how about coming upstairs to my room with me? Actually that was my first choice all along but I didn’t think you’d go for it, so I came up with the sight-seeing trip.”
He spread his hand over the curve of her hip, his fingers making a wide span. He began a slow, sensuous massage.
The sparks kindling inside her roared to full flame. Her belly burned with a pulsating warmth that flared deep in the hot, secret core of her. Hannah gulped, her mouth dry. Had Sean or Tommy or any other man in the room issued such an invitation, she would’ve responded with either a quip or a jeer, but both would’ve resulted in an easy instant rejection.
But Matthew Granger had ignited a conflagration of desire that severely tested her resolve. His taste still lingered on her lips and tongue and she could still feel the hard imprint of his body locked against hers. Just thinking about being in his arms made her feel weak and soft and filled with yearning. She wanted to go upstairs to his room. She wanted more of the heady passion he so effortlessly evoked in her.
Hannah was furious, with herself and with him. She broke away, her skin tingling from his wicked, tempting touch. “You were right the first time. I will not go to your room with you!”
Matthew shrugged lazily. “Not tonight, anyway.”
“Not any night!”
He laughed, a husky, sexy sound that sent shivers of excitement chasing along her spine. “Sure you will, sweetheart.”
“Hannah,” she corrected tersely. “And I have no intention of going to bed with you!”
He shrugged, not at all put off by her ire. “You know what they say about intentions. The road to hell is paved with them.”
“And you’re certainly a regular traveler on that road, aren’t you?” She caught herself before she revealed any more knowledge of his felonious intentions.
She could not trust Matthew, Hannah reminded herself sternly. And though the chemistry between them was potent and exciting, she would have to be crazy to suspend all moral judgment and common sense to get involved with him.
She was not crazy.
Hannah glanced at her watch, a jeweled antique that her grandmother had worn as a girl. “It’s time I left. I’m go
ing to say my goodbyes to Katie, Abby and Ben.” She walked briskly away, her head held high.
Matthew didn’t follow her, but she felt his eyes on her as she flirted her way across the room to bid goodbye to the happy couple.
She found Katie in the small boardinghouse kitchen, filling the coffeemaker with the required amount of water and coffee beans. “Katie, be careful of Matthew Granger.” Hannah felt obliged to issue the warning, even though she felt certain Katie wasn’t personally at risk.
Katie smiled wryly. “I distinctly remember saying something along those lines to you a short while ago. But you seem to be getting along with him very well indeed.”
Hannah blushed, remembering how she’d been caught in the spotlight, kissing and clinging to the man. “Th-that was just a momentary lapse. It won’t happen again,” she vowed.
Katie nodded benignly.
Hannah started out of the kitchen, then rushed back in to whisper, “Katie, if he asks questions about the Wyndhams, don’t tell him anything.”
“I don’t have anything to tell, other than the basic facts known by everybody in Clover. I don’t know the Wyndhams,” Katie reminded her.
“But I do!” Hannah nervously balled her fingers into fists. An awful thought struck. “Do you suppose that’s why he—” She blushed to the roots of her hair. “Do you think he’s going to try to use me to get information about them?”
Katie cleared her throat. “Well, hello there, Matthew!” Her voice grew louder, warning Hannah of his presence. “The coffee will be ready shortly. Would you like a cup?”
“No, thanks.” Matthew took Hannah’s arm. “I’m seeing the lady home. Ready to go, honey?”
“You—you’re not going home with me!” Hannah’s voice rose to a squeak. “My parents and my grandmother will still be awake and they’ll—”
“You live with your parents and your grandmother?” Matthew was incredulous. “At your age?”
“Age has nothing to do with it.” She tried to pull away from him, but he didn’t release her. No one had ever been so physical with her, holding her tightly, not letting her go, keeping her in his grasp until she didn’t want him to let her go.
“Doesn’t it?” His fingers began to lazily caress the soft inner skin of her arm.
“No, it doesn’t.” Hannah reminded herself to breathe. “My brother is still living at home and he’s two years older than I am. Why pay rent for some cramped apartment when there’s plenty of room at home?”
It was the same argument her parents gave her whenever she proposed moving out and into a place of her own. They also used her grandmother’s presence as a way to emotionally blackmail her into staying. To them, renting an apartment in Charleston was acceptable, but to rent in Clover was disgracefully un-Farley-like. Hannah did not share their views, but she wasn’t about to air the Farley familial disagreements, especially not to Matthew Granger.
“Well, I suppose it’s perfectly understandable to live at home when home is a mansion,” Matthew said, mocking her.
“It’s not actually a mansion,” Hannah hastened to assure him. Were his cat-burglar instincts on red alert? Suppose he decided to add the Farley house to his wish list? “It’s, uh, just an old house. Nothing terribly impressive. I really don’t understand why my folks insisted on having two security systems installed. Of course, the Wyndham place is probably armed like a fortress,” she added nervously.
It was downright alarming the way Matthew listened so intently when the name Wyndham was mentioned. Perhaps if she were to pass along enough discouraging tips about the estate, he would give up his plans to break into it.
“Katie, didn’t we hear that the Wyndhams had some killer guard dogs running around loose on the grounds of the estate?” Hannah had heard no such thing but hoped that the self-preserving instincts of a cat burglar would prevent him from risking an encounter with a pack of homicidal dogs.
“Did we hear that?” Katie murmured blandly. She hid a smile. “Will you two excuse me? I’m going into the other room to ask who wants coffee.” She made a hasty exit, leaving the couple alone.
Matthew slid his hand down the length of Hannah’s arm, then interlaced his fingers with hers. “Since you aren’t allowed to have company at home after midnight, I guess I’ll have to settle for walking you to your car,” he said smoothly. “Where are you parked?”
“Two blocks over.” Her voice caught in her throat. He was drawing slow concentric circles on her palm with his thumb. “W-we didn’t want Ben and Abby to see our cars and spoil the surprise. It—it wasn’t raining quite so hard then.”
“Well, it’s teeming now. I’ll drive you to your car. No use getting soaked.”
Before she could refuse—and she would have—he scooped her up and headed out the kitchen door. Hannah gave a squeal of shocked protest when she found herself lifted high in his arms, and then they were outside in the cool driving rain. A humid breeze whirled around them, splattering them with raindrops.
Just as suddenly they were out of the element, warm and dry, inside a big black van parked directly behind the boardinghouse.
Hannah knelt on the bucket seat where she’d been deposited and looked around her. The van’s interior had been customized with a storage area behind the entire width of the front seat. Behind the storage area, the floor, walls and ceiling of the van had been covered with thick, dark carpeting. An air mattress, covered by a thick quilt and lots of pillows, filled most of the back.
Hannah gulped. “This isn’t a van. It’s a traveling lair.”
“It suits my needs,” Matthew drawled.
“I’ll bet.” Her eyes darted nervously around the interior. He could camp comfortably while casing his target site, then load up and leave the area before his prey ever realized they’d been relieved of their possessions!
“I think we’ll both find it useful, since you live in a houseful of chaperons and this boardinghouse seems to be overflowing with Cloverites.” His white grin seemed to glow in the darkness. “We’ll have guaranteed privacy in here.”
It took Hannah a moment to get his drift, and when she did, her cheeks flushed scarlet. “I have no use for a bedroom on wheels! Especially not one with you in it!”
Matthew merely laughed, a confident, arrogant laugh that enraged her. It was as if he knew that she was picturing herself lying on that air mattress with him beside her, the van parked in some secluded, woodsy spot! A piercing heat coiled achingly inside her. She tried to ignore it, tried to push the provocative images from her mind.
She flounced down in the seat and pulled the seat belt around her, snapping it with a vicious click. “Drive me to my car right now!” she commanded.
“Ah, the imperious Lady of the Manor emerges,” Matthew taunted. “You keep that side of yourself well under wraps when you’re playing your egalitarian role and socializing with the masses.”
She lifted her chin higher. “I do not have to sit here and be insulted by you. If you say another word, I’ll—I’ll get out and walk to my car!”
“The lady certainly knows how to inflict punishment on those who dare to displease her! I don’t know how I’d be able to live with myself, knowing that you’d walked two blocks in the pouring rain. Would you really deprive me of the honor of delivering you to your car door?” Matthew pretended to look wounded but his derisive tone canceled out that pretense. “What a heartless woman you are, Hannah Kaye!”
Having made her threat—and listened to him gleefully ridicule it—Hannah knew she must fling open the door and stomp off to her car. The rain seemed to pound even more heavily against the van, making the prospect of that two-block walk an unappealing, drenching one.
But just as she reached for the door handle, Matthew started the van and steered it away from the curb into the street. “Direct me to your car, my lady,” he said with an obsequiousness so phony that she was torn between laughing and grinding her teeth with vexation.
But she gave him the directions to her car, and moments
later, he pulled the van alongside her sporty blue Cabriolet.
“Thank you for allowing me the privilege of chauffeuring you, princess. It’s an honor I’ll cherish for the rest of my humble life.”
“I should have walked,” Hannah muttered. “I don’t know why I didn’t. You’re far more troublesome than getting soaked in the rain.”
“Which is why you’re still sitting in my car, egging me on. You’re bored with all your would-be Clover swains toadying to you. You want someone to stand up to you.” He reached over and captured her hand, lifting it to his mouth. “It excites you. I excite you.”
Four
Matthew pressed her palm against his lips, then tugged on her wrist to draw her closer. “Come here.” His smile was sexy and roguish, enticing and exciting.
Hannah closed her eyes and fought the melting warmth surging through her. Matthew was right. Being with him excited her. He excited her in a way no other man ever had. And he was all wrong for her. He was a transient with a gun and questionable motives for being in Clover. Hannah drew a sharp breath.
“Thank you for the ride,” she said primly, yanking her hand from his grasp. “But I’m afraid you’re harboring a delusion if you think that I...if you think that you... I think you’re exciting—I—I mean, I don’t! You are—”
“Delusion, huh? I don’t think so, honey.” Matthew chuckled. “You’re so excited right now, you’re stammering like a wide-eyed little schoolgirl with her first crush.”
She was temporarily mesmerized by that smile of his, which tempted and challenged. Later, she would come up with scores of stinging retorts she ought to have hurled at him, but in the dark confines of his van she sat silent and still, her heart thumping, her gaze affixed to his face.
Suddenly, swiftly, Matthew moved closer to her, bracketing her face with his hands. His eyes, dark and glittering, searched her luminous gray eyes for a single moment, then he lowered his head to hers.
The Engagement Party Page 6
