“Now that I know you’re a writer, I would really like to read your books.” Hannah laid one slim-fingered hand on his chest. Her crimson nails provided a sensuous contrast against the backdrop of his charcoal gray shirt. “There’s a bookstore on Clover Street run by my friend, Emma Wynn. You met her last night at Fitzgerald’s with her friend, Kenneth Drake.” One well-shaped nail traced the small signature emblem on his shirt. “Do you think your books will be in stock at her store? Or can I order them?”
Why isn’t he touching me? Hannah thought. A short while ago, he couldn’t resist me. Did he decide to be offended because I thought he was a thief? Was his ego bruised because I didn’t know a thing about his books or his success as a writer?
Determinedly she moved closer. The peaks of her breasts touched the muscular wall of his chest; her thighs skimmed his.
Matthew felt as if a lightning bolt had zapped him. His body was so hot and wired, he could probably serve as an electrical conductor. “I brought some copies of my books with me.” His voice sounded strained and unnatural. If you touch her, she wins, he reminded himself. “You saw them in my bag. I’ll give them to you.”
“Thank you, Matthew.” Hannah was in despair. Doesn’t he want me anymore? How could he change his mind so fast? And then he involuntarily shifted his body, and she felt the hard rigid length of his erection against her.
Oh, he still wanted her! There was absolutely no mistake about that! But for some stupid reason, he’d decided to restrain himself from making the first move. Hannah was perplexed. What should she do now? She wasn’t used to initiating physical advances; she was usually busy fending them off. But if she didn’t feel his mouth on hers soon, she would die!
Matthew studied her face, thoroughly enjoying her dilemma. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. The realization thrilled him far more than it should have, but he didn’t care. He waited for her to make her move, for he was certain that she would. He was going to win this round!
But victory eluded him as the door to the shop opened, and a tall, dark-haired young man strode inside as if he owned the place. Matthew felt frustration roiling through him. It took considerable control to keep from uttering the curses that were running through his head. He waited for Hannah to scurry away from him, to run off to charm her latest customer into buying something he didn’t know he wanted.
But Hannah stayed where she was. Groaning softly, she turned toward the man, but stayed close enough to Matthew so that her hip and arm were touching him. “It’s my brother.” She did not sound pleased. “What do you want, Bay?”
Bay Farley headed toward them, glanced briefly at Matthew and dismissed him as not worth acknowledging. “I want a special gift for Justine,” Bay announced importantly. “Can you tear yourself away from your latest boyfriend to pick something out for her?”
Six
Her brother’s words hit Matthew like a bucket of cold water and strengthened his resolve. Her latest boyfriend? Oh, no, not him! He was not going to allow himself to join the hapless club of Hannah Farley’s castoffs.
Matthew laid his hand on the small of Hannah’s back and leaned down to murmur in her ear, “This time it’s a draw, you little tease.” His fingers kneaded the sensuous hollow at the base of her spine, and shivers of pleasure tingled through every nerve ending. His thumb traced the outline of the hip-hugging lacy band of her panties through the material of her sundress. “But keep in mind that until Big Brother showed up, I was winning.”
She whirled her head around so fast that her long dark tresses flew out and whipped his face. “I didn’t realize there was a competition going on,” she said tersely. “If I had, you can believe that—”
She didn’t get to finish her threat. Bay was upon them, his expression petulant. “Mother says I ought to bring Justine a special little gift when I go over there tonight. She said you’d be able to suggest something, Hannah. I certainly have no idea what to give the girl.”
“Me?” Hannah moved away from Matthew, as annoyed with him as she was with her brother. “If you’re almost engaged to her, you have to know Justine a lot better than I do, Bay. What do you want to give her? What sort of things does she like? What are her interests?”
“How am I supposed to know?” snapped Bay. “She’s practically mute when she’s around me. Alexandra and I carry on splendid conversations while Justine hovers in the background like a wraith. For a Wyndham, she is certainly socially inept! I shall expect her personality to improve drastically when she is Mrs. Baylor Farley.”
“Well, if Justine’s personality doesn’t suit you, and you and Alexandra get along so well, why don’t you marry Alex, Bay?” Hannah asked snidely. “She’s divorced and available. So what if she’s twenty years older than you? Older-woman-younger-man relationships are quite trendy these days. Then you would be Justine’s wicked stepfather, just like in the fairy tales except for the gender change. I think it’s a role you were born to play.”
“Alexandra Wyndham?” Matthew didn’t realize that he’d spoken aloud until he heard his own voice.
“This doesn’t concern you.” Bay glanced impatiently at Matthew, not bothering to conceal his disdain for someone he considered a lesser being. It was the way he treated all Hannah’s friends unless they possessed the requisite social pedigrees.
And though Matthew’s flippant sexual arrogance had her seething only moments before, Bay’s attack on him triggered Hannah’s rebellious streak—and a sudden inexplicable loyalty to Matthew that she hadn’t been aware of until right now.
She gave him her warmest smile to make up for Bay’s snub. “We’re talking about Alexandra Wyndham and her daughter, Justine, who just turned twenty. The poor kid is being railroaded into marrying my viperous brother here.” Hannah faced her brother, a steely glint in her gray eyes. “And Bay, this does concern Matthew because he’s been asked by a very prestigious historical society to write a book about the Wyndham’s role in South Carolina history. He has a meeting scheduled with Alexandra, and Grandmother is going with him to make the introductions. Didn’t I mention Matthew’s grandparents were great friends of Grandmother and Granddaddy? They’re the Grangers of—”
“Florida,” Matthew supplied promptly. He accorded her imaginative powers and the speed with which she exercised them his greatest respect. On the spur of the moment, she’d conjured up a far more clever and legitimate reason for his presence in Clover than his insipid insect tale.
“Florida,” Hannah repeated. She saw the look of chagrin on Bay’s face and exulted. “Oh, Baylor, just wait till I tell Grandmother and Alexandra how rude you were to Matthew Granger!” she exclaimed gleefully. “They’ll be appalled!”
Bay shot her his I-don’t-know-why-Mother-and-Daddy-ever-had-you look, the one he’d been giving her ever since she’d been placed in her bassinet upon her arrival in the Farley home. Then he turned to Matthew with a forced, sickly grin and held out his hand. “I truly apologize, Granger. I had no idea who you were. Hannah should have introduced us immediately, but of course she’s too perverse for conventional etiquette. I would like to extend to you my warmest welcome to Clover, and I do hope you’ll see fit to forgive my, uh, unfortunate lapse. I’m on the verge of getting engaged, you see, and I’m afraid my bachelor nerves are a tad strained.”
Hannah watched Matthew shake her brother’s hand and accept his apology with a cool smile. At least she assumed it was a smile. There was definitely a flash of straight white teeth but the effect was more carnivorous than congenial.
Matthew resisted the urge to crunch the bones in Bay Farley’s hand during their obligatory handshake. Perhaps he would have if he hadn’t still been reeling from the stunning news. He had a little sister! Justine, age twenty, who, according to Hannah, was being pushed into marrying this insufferable snob.
His eyes narrowed as he studied Bay Farley’s fine aristocratic features, and he made a promise to himself and to the sister he had yet to meet. From this moment on, no one could malign hi
s little sister the way Farley had disparaged Justine and get away with it. Matthew burned with newfound sibling fervor. Baylor Farley’s prospective engagement to Justine was never going to happen. Her big brother would see to that!
“Bay, I think I know what you can give Justine,” Hannah said sweetly.
Matthew was immediately suspicious of that saccharine tone of hers. One glance at her slitted gray eyes and arched brows confirmed his hunch. She was definitely plotting something treacherous. But her self-absorbed brother did not pick up on it, assuming that she was finally, inevitably, willing to oblige him.
Shortly thereafter, Bay left the shop several hundred dollars poorer, carrying the wrapped gift for his young bride-to-be.
“A mourning picture?” Matthew murmured as Bay strode grandly out the door. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. It’s downright creepy.”
He grimaced, thinking of the small original watercolor dated 1840, which commemorated a young boy who had died that year at the age of five. The picture showed two somber adults, presumably the parents, flanking the tombstone lettered with the child’s name and dates of birth and death. A small portrait of a child’s profile was sketched in the right-hand corner. There was a distinct melancholy feel to the sad little painting.
“Mourning pictures were common before photography was available to families, especially as a memento of a dead child,” Hannah said. “I think the watercolor is touching, but it isn’t an appropriately romantic gift from a would-be fiancé. I’m hoping Justine will take one look at it and another look at Bay and run for her life!”
“You think they’re that ill-matched?” Matthew watched her intently.
“It’s not a match. It’s a train wreck! And I feel like I’m being made to stand and watch and do nothing to stop it.”
“But you are doing something,” Matthew reminded her. Her distress was real. Just as she hadn’t maligned his paternal relatives, the Polks, she wanted to help his young Wyndham half sister. The surge of warmth that he felt for her as he gazed at her beautiful face was far more compelling than sexual urgency. “I think we could describe your intervention as sabotage by antique artistry.”
“I hope the Wyndhams will think Bay is morbid and insensitive and not the suitable choice they’ve imagined him to be.” Hannah crossed her fingers on both hands. “And I really hope Justine will tell her mother that she’d rather be featured in her own mourning picture than marry Bay Farley.”
“Marriage to your brother strikes you as a fate worse than death?” Matthew asked wryly.
“Maybe not for some social-climbing narcissist just like him, but for Justine it would be sheer hell. I feel so sorry for her. It must be awful to be a shy Wyndham. I can really identify with someone whose nature doesn’t fit the family mold and expectations. But I’m luckier than Justine. I’ve always had my grandmother firmly on my side. From what I can tell, there is no one in the Wyndham family to champion Justine. She’s quiet and insecure. Her father is a womanizing drunk who rarely sees her, and her mother is domineering in that terrifyingly self-confident Wyndham way. Marrying poor little Justine off to Bay, who doesn’t have a sensitive cell in his body, strikes me as cruel and unusual punishment!”
“Cruel and unusual punishment is unconstitutional,” Matthew remarked, striving to remain calm. “So we can’t let that happen, can we? Did I tell you that I’m also a lawyer? I gave up practicing law to write full-time.”
“A lawyer? And here I’d pegged you on the wrong side of the law.” Hannah stared at him, her gray eyes alert and curious. “Any more secrets, Mr. Granger?”
“You would be amazed, my sweet.”
She was about to ask him what a lawyer could do to save Justine from a loveless marriage to Bay when the door to the shop opened again, and a group of middle-aged women entered the shop, talking and laughing among themselves.
“Now there’s a challenge,” Matthew murmured. “Seven women at once. Won’t the intensity of your charming sales pitch be drastically diluted?”
Hannah responded instantly to the challenge. “I can sell something to every one of them. It might be just a little thing, but I bet I make seven sales.”
“You’re on, baby. I say you won’t. The loser—”
“Pays for dinner at Clarke’s Steak House tonight,” Hannah said quickly.
“A steak house in a coastal town with fishermen supplying fresh fish daily? What a waste!”
“Clarke’s is great!” Hannah said loyally. “And it features the catch of the day along with the best steaks in South Carolina.”
“Good. I’ll sit back and dream about dinner while you strike out with the ladies. I like to win, too, princess,” he added imperturbably.
She left him sitting behind the counter and went over to join the women, smiling at them as if their presence in her shop was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her.
Forty-five minutes later, all seven ladies left, each one having found and purchased their own particular treasure.
* * *
Hannah and Matthew dined together later that evening at Clarke’s Steak House on Clover Street, feasting on bowls of she-crab soup and steaks. Matthew had decided to forgo the catch of the day after all.
“I don’t trust anything that is labeled as zesty,” he muttered, upon hearing the seafood special was “Zesty Fillet of Sole.” “I’m sticking with just plain steak.”
“Sounds good to me. And since you’re buying and everything on the menu is à la carte, I think I’ll also have a salad and vegetables, and dessert, of course,” Hannah announced mischievously.
“Going to soak me, huh?” Matthew took his loss good-naturedly. “I guess I deserve it. You could sell hamburgers to vegetarians. When it comes to the art of the sale, I’ll never bet against you again.” Having spent most of the day with her at Yesterdays, he’d seen firsthand that her success in selling was no fluke.
Tommy Clarke, one of several Clarkes who worked at the family restaurant, stopped by their table frequently to ask if everything was to their satisfaction.
“Maybe we should pull up a chair and invite him to join us,” Matthew grumbled after Tommy’s fourth foray to their table. “I feel as if we’re being chaperoned.”
“Life in Clover is something of a goldfish bowl,” Hannah conceded. “And you’re something of a curiosity, Matthew. You haven’t moved here, but you don’t fit into the tourist category, either. You were at Abby and Ben’s engagement party, then you turned up at Fitzgerald’s with a gang of Clover residents. And—”
“Let’s not forget that I was seen making out with the town beauty while slow dancing with her,” Matthew interjected glibly.
Hannah drew a shuddery breath. His mention of that wild hot kiss evoked a sweet surge of sensation within her. As if it were happening all over again, she could feel his mouth on hers, his body hard and hot against her. She touched her fingers to her lips.
Matthew gazed into her eyes, the candle flame flickering shadows over his face, his expression almost primitive. He slid his long muscular legs alongside hers and rested them there, letting her feel the sensual weight and strength of his limbs.
Hannah’s heartbeat accelerated as she felt the firm warmth of his thighs, of his calves heating her legs, sending flames of sensation deep into the most secret, intimate part of her. The instant physical attraction she’d felt for him was rapidly intensifying, and the time they’d spent together today, the things she’d learned about him, heightened this natural affinity they seemed to share.
There was a sensual determination in his gaze that simultaneously thrilled her and kept her on edge. “This time it’s a draw, you little tease,” he’d said in the shop when Bay had made his unwelcome appearance.
Was he playing games with her? Hannah tried to stem the vague hurt welling inside her. She’d never had trouble reading men before, normally she could trust her instincts. But Matthew’s allure had all but obliterated them. For the first time in her life, she felt totally
uncertain of herself. It was far worse than last night when she’d thought he was a thief. At least that theory had served as something of a restraint. Now she couldn’t summon up any reason whatsoever to keep him at bay.
Except that he might be using her. Playing games to amuse himself while she fell deeper and harder for him. Caution warred with desire and won. She inched her chair farther down the table, drew her legs under the rungs of the chair and sat up very straight. If it was a game he wanted, she was a player.
“I’m glad the rain has finally stopped,” she said in the bright, friendly tones he’d heard her use with her customers all day in the shop. “I know this is thunderstorm season, but enough is enough.”
Matthew was frustrated because she had reverted to her social smile and social chatter, and he wanted her private self, the one she’d already shared with him. “Have I ever mentioned how much I hate to talk about the weather?” he growled.
“What do you like to talk about, Matthew?” She was flirting with him, harmlessly and impersonally, the way she might flirt with any other man.
He didn’t want to be relegated to every-other-man status; he wanted to see passion and need flare in her eyes when she looked at him, the way she had a few minutes ago. Yet now she seemed bent on proceeding as if she were on a routine dinner date with any one of her Clover pals.
Matthew frowned. He was used to setting the pace and determining the course of events. Suddenly he was supposed to accommodate someone else’s agenda, intentions and limitations?
“Are you really from Florida?” Hannah continued, determined to break the silence and draw him out.
Matthew knew what she was doing; he’d been watching her operate all day. If they’d been in Yesterdays, she would be trying to match him up with a set of Howdy Doody jelly glasses to take home.
“If you aren’t from Florida, have you ever been there?” persisted Hannah.
The Engagement Party Page 11
