Controlling Interest (40 page)

Well, it put him in a sweat.

He rolled off the futon and yanked on his shirt and pants — the same khakis and polo he'd been wearing for the last couple of days. Cole had offered to loan him some clothes, but since McGaughan was well-nigh gigantic, Matt had declined. He couldn't wait to get back to Memphis and his closet full of clothes. Back to Tootie and Ringo and the clock shop. Maybe he'd get home in time to attend church at the mission chapel tonight. A man needed to go to church when he was confused.

At least that was one thing he'd learned on this crazy adventure.

He checked his watch as he tromped down the attic stairs. Seven o'clock. Laurel would probably be cooking breakfast before getting dressed for church. She was a true southern hostess, with a gift for creating beautiful food.

He didn't even know if Natalie knew how to cook anything besides French toast. The man who married her would be taking his chances.

Matt stopped, three steps from the bottom of the stairs. The thought of anybody walking off with Natalie — anybody except
him
— made him break out in a fresh sweat. He wasn't sure he was ready to get married, but losing her wasn't an option either.

Abruptly he sat down.
Holy smoke
. He was in love with Natalie.

“Hogan, you feeling alright?” Cole had wandered through the hallway and paused at the foot of the stairs. “I told Laurel we should put a fan up there or something — ”

“I'm fine.” He plowed his hands through his hair. “I'm just losing my mind.”

“Oh, is that all?” Cole sounded amused. “Natalie must be too. She left around five o'clock this morning. Said she had some loose ends to tie up before she moves.”

“What? Moves where?”

“I'm disappointed in you, man. You must have reverted to type. I thought she was a keeper.”

“What are you talking about?”

McGaughan stuck his hands in his pockets. “I tried to tell her to be patient, that you're not a complete jerk all the time, but when she started crying I gave up. You'll have to dig yourself out on your own this time.”

“I'm not a jerk at all! Why would she say that?” Matt lurched to his feet. “You let her leave without me?”

“How was I going to stop her? You've got a lot to learn about women. I bet you never even told her you love her.”

“I'm not saying that unless I mean it.”

“Oh, really?” Cole raised his brows. “That sounds noble. But let me explain something on your kindergarten level. Making yourself vulnerable to a woman takes a lot more courage than chasing crooks. Letting her hold you accountable for your spiritual growth, taking responsibility for guarding your relationship. I never took you for a coward, Hogan. Guess I was wrong.”

Matt watched Cole saunter into the living room, whistling. He would have gone after him, except for the fact that he had nothing to say in his own defense.

He
was
a coward, and he didn't deserve Natalie.

Natalie hit Germantown shortly after noon — having driven straight through with only one stop for gas and a restroom break — and set to packing like a woman possessed. It took longer than she'd anticipated. Turned out she'd left things pretty much in a wreck, with clothes and shoes and books scattered all over the bed, floor, desk, chair. There was even a pair of fishnet hose flung across the curtain rod.

But by five o'clock she had all her possessions stuffed into a mesh laundry sack, two suitcases, and a hanging bag. She could leave in the morning, after she'd had a chance to talk to Mom — assuming her mother actually planned to come home. Natalie wouldn't be surprised if her parents elected to stay another week on their impromptu honeymoon.

The house was silent as a tomb; even Tinkerbell had gone to visit Nina for the weekend. Restless, Natalie turned on the TV, clicked through several mindless programs, and decided she didn't even have the patience for a rerun of
What Not to Wear
, her favorite show. By six she was starving; a scavenger hunt through the refrigerator produced a carton of blueberry yogurt and a Granny Smith apple. Grimacing, she ate them standing at the kitchen sink.

Eventually it occurred to her that since it was Sunday she should probably go to church. The mission chapel — she could offer to play piano again. Grabbing her purse, she hopped in the car and drove over to Beale Street.

When she got there, however, the doors were locked up tight. She peered in, hands on the glass. What kind of mission didn't have church on Sunday night?

Probably one run by people who had a life.

She turned and slumped against the front door. She could walk over to the mission itself, hang out with David and Alison and the baby. And Keturah. Or . . .

She looked across the street, down the next block. At seven o'clock the Jailhouse Rock Clock Shop sign already glowed in orange neon, though it was still full daylight. She could walk down and say hello to Tootie. Matt was still in Mobile, hanging out with his friends. Her friends too. Cole had been very sweet to her this morning, blinking sleepily at her from the kitchen doorway after she dropped the tea kettle and made so much noise the dog started howling in the backyard. He'd tried to get her to stay and talk to Matt about her feelings.

Matt could go jump in a lake. She didn't want to work with him anymore. The big jerk.

She hadn't thought about him all day. Well, not much. Every time those twinkling hazel eyes appeared in her brain, she'd blinked really hard to make them go away. It almost worked.

So there was no reason she couldn't stop by to see Tootie, as long as she was on this side of town. People. She needed people around. Sane people who said what they meant and meant what they said.

Leaving her car parked in front of the mission, she crossed the street and marched down the cracked sidewalk. A few tourists hung around outside the bars and cafés and clubs, reminding her of her first venture down Beale Street looking for Yasmine. Sometime she would have to duck into Silky's and say hi to Wilson and Conrad and Ray. And Killian the goat.

She grinned. In spite of everything, she'd had an adventure she'd be able to tell her grandchildren about. Assuming she ever let another male within ten feet of her.

The law office beside Matt's apartment was locked up tight, but a lamp glowed in Tootie's front window. Natalie pushed the doorbell and waited. She probably should have called first.

Before she could turn around and head back to her car, the door opened abruptly.

“Natalie!” Tootie backed up, a welcoming grin softening her severe expression. “How's the blanket coming?”

“Blanket? Oh, the blanket.” Natalie laughed. “Haven't had time to work on it since Matt and I left for — ” Reminded of her partner's shallow interpersonal skills, she looked away for a moment before making herself smile at Tootie. “You know we found Yasmine?”

“Matt called to tell me he's staying in Mobile another night. He mentioned it. Come on in, I was just making a cup of tea.” Too-tie gave Natalie a searching look over her shoulder as she opened the door of her apartment. “He sounded a little depressed but wouldn't tell me what's wrong.”

“He's probably just mad because I won our bet.” Natalie tried to drum up triumph. “He doesn't like to lose to a girl.”

“He doesn't like to lose period. Come talk to me while I make the tea.”

Ringo, snoozing on the sofa, picked up his head as the women passed through the living room. He jumped down to follow hopefully. “You've had your supper, Ringo,” Tootie told the waddling little dog. “Lie down.”

Ringo sighed and flopped onto the rug in front of the refrigerator. Natalie bent to pet him as Tootie buzzed around the kitchen. “Well, I'm not sure I can work with a sore loser. I've packed up to go back to Tunica.”

“Oh, that's mature.” Tootie gave her a dry look. “What does Matt say about that?”

“He — he doesn't know. I didn't make up my mind until I got home. Here, I mean.”

“This is home, isn't it?”

“It's where I grew up. But I've got to be independent. I wanted to prove I could be a detective, and I did. So I'll just keep working until the sheriff promotes me. I gave up too soon.”

Tootie didn't say anything, just shook her gray head, turned off the whistling tea kettle, and poured boiling water into a porcelain teapot.

Natalie stood up. “What are you thinking?”

“Matthew says I'm too free with my opinions.”

“I suspect you don't usually let that bother you.” Natalie wandered to the breakfast table and sat down. “Come on, Tootie. My mom's not available, and I need some advice. You probably know Matt as well as anybody. Do you think I'm giving up on
him
too soon? I l-like him better than any guy I've ever known, but I'm not going to throw myself at him again.”

“Again?” Tootie's eyebrows climbed. She set the teapot and cups on the table.

“Well, it was sort of mutual.” Natalie sighed. “But he made it clear yesterday he doesn't want to go beyond friendship and a little, um, making out.”

Tootie put her hands on her hips. “You young people. You don't know what to do with real emotions, so you jump right into the physical stuff way too soon.”

“I know, I know!” Natalie groaned. “So help me!”

Tootie sat down and covered Natalie's hands with her slightly arthritic ones. “It's like knitting a blanket, sweet cheeks. One stitch at a time.”

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE

A
s he ladled himself another cup of punch, Matt yanked at the knot of his tie and looked around the crowded dance floor. Why Natalie had picked a banquet room at the Peabody for Eddie and Deb's second wedding reception was beyond him. Baby back ribs at the Rendezvous would have been more appropriate to this rowdy party. Nick, in charge of hiring the DJ, had come up with a fellow college student with an apparent hearing loss, and Eddie and Deb made sure drinks at all levels of alcoholic content flowed free. Matt was working on a headache.

He was considering asking Natalie to dance just to relieve the tension.

As if that would help. He'd called her several times over the last two weeks. But would she give him the time of day? Oh no. She was polite. She was interested in the investigation they'd taken on for the Memphis PD. She denied she'd seriously thought about moving back to Tunica.

“Where'd you get an idea like that?” she'd laughed when he mentioned it the Monday she showed up at his office for work. “Cole misunderstood me.”

And she categorically refused to talk about what made her pack up and leave Mobile that Sunday morning without him.

“Don't take everything so seriously, Matt. We have work to do.”

And she was good at the work. She'd learned how to run an Internet background check with efficiency and thoroughness. She was a genius at getting police officers to talk to her off the record. And her marketing skills were unmatched.

There she was now, over on the other side of the room — one arm hooked through her father's, the other around her mother's waist — talking to some aunt or other. They were a good-looking family, Matt would have to admit.

Okay,
Natalie
looked beautiful tonight. She wore a green spaghetti-strap dress with a flirty hem that ended just above her knees, from which, he noticed, the scabs had finally disappeared. She had on a pair of skinny high heels that were barely more than a bunch of black straps around her pretty feet. Some of her hair was kind of bunched on top in a little flowery clip, and it made her look sophisticated and very un-Natalie-like.

He
really
wanted to dance with her.

He tossed back his punch and plowed through the crowd toward her.

The aunt wandered off as Deb smiled at Matt, radiant. “Matt! Are you having a good time?” she asked.

At least Matt thought that was what she said. All he could hear was a deafening rendition of “Geek in the Pink.”

He nodded, then looked at Natalie. She was staring at her polished toes. “Would you like to dance?”

She didn't even look up.

Irritated, he glanced at Eddie, who grinned and cupped his ear.

Oh.
Matt touched Natalie's shoulder, electrified by its silken warmth.

She flinched and looked up at him. “What?”

She looked confused. He noticed she didn't have on her glasses. She probably couldn't see
or
hear him.

Winking at Deb, he disengaged Natalie's hand from Eddie's elbow and tugged her toward a relatively abandoned corner. By the time they got there an old Eric Clapton ballad was playing. Without further attempt to talk, he pulled her into his arms.

Of course she resisted. At first.

But within a few seconds he had her left hand in his right, and his left hand lay at the back of her waist. She relaxed and moved with him.

They swayed that way until Matt was sure he'd won some kind of skirmish in this incomprehensible war of emotions. He had no idea what to say to her, but maybe if he kept moving she would eventually break down and tell him what he'd done wrong.