Crossed Hearts (Matchmaker Trilogy) (7 page)

Startled, Leah half turned to find herself the object of his grim scrutiny. “We’re friends.”

“You’ve said that. When did you meet?”

“Last year.”

“Where?”

“The public library. Victoria was researching the aborigines of New Zealand. We literally bumped into each other.”

His expression turned wry, then softened into a reluctant smile. “The aborigines of New Zealand—that does sound like Victoria. Is she going back to school in anthropology?”

“Not exactly,” Leah answered, but she had to force herself to think, because his smile—lean lips curving upward between mustache and beard, the flash of even, white teeth—momentarily absorbed her. “She is, uh, she was fascinated by an article she’d read about the Maori, so she decided to visit. She was preparing for the trip when I met her.”

“Did she get there?”

“To New Zealand? What do you think?”

Garrick thought yes, and his eyes said as much, but his mind returned quickly to Leah. “Why were you at the library?”

“I often work there—sometimes doing research for puzzles, sometimes just for the change of scenery.”

“So you and Victoria became friends. How old are you?”

“Thirty-three.”

He pushed out his lips in surprise. “I’d have given you twenty-eight or twenty-nine—” the lips straightened “—but even at thirty-three, there’s quite a gap between you.”

“But there isn’t,” Leah returned with quiet vehemence, even wonder. “That’s what’s so great about Victoria. She’s positively … positively amaranthine.”

“Amaranthine?”

“Unfading, undying, timeless. Her bio may list her as fifty-three, but she has the body of a forty-year-old, the mind of a thirty-year-old, the enthusiasm of a twenty-year-old and the heart of a child.”

The description was one Garrick might have made, though he’d never have been able to express it as well. At the height of his career he’d been a master technician, able to deliver lines from a script with precisely the feeling the director wanted. But no amount of arrogance—and he’d had more than his share—could have made him try to write that script himself.

So Leah did know Victoria, and well. That ruled out one possible lie but left open another. Even knowing that she would compromise her friendship with Victoria, Leah might have taken it upon herself to find and interview the man who’d once been the heartthrob of every woman between the ages of sixteen and sixty-five. Every woman who watched television, that is. Did Leah watch television? Even if she’d come here in total innocence, wouldn’t she recognize him?

Shifting his gaze back to the hearth, Garrick lapsed into silence once again. He was recalling how worried he’d been when he’d first arrived in New Hampshire. Each time he’d gone into town for supplies, he’d kept his head down, his eyes averted. Each time he’d waited in dread for telling whispers, tiny squeals, the thrust of pen and paper under his nose.

In fact, he’d looked different from the man who’d graced the television screens of America on a weekly basis for seven years running. His hair was longer, less perfectly styled, and he’d stopped rinsing out the sprinkles of silver that once upon a time he’d been sure would detract from his appeal.

The beard had made a difference, too, but in those early months he’d worried that sharp eyes would see through it to the jaw about which critics had raved. He’d dressed without distinction, wearing the oldest clothes he’d had. Above all, he’d prayed that the mere improbability of a onetime megastar living on a mountainside in the middle of nowhere would shield him from discovery.

With the passing of time—during which he wasn’t recognized—he’d gained confidence. He made eye contact. He held his head higher.

Body language. A fascinating thing. He wasn’t innocent enough to think that the recognition factor alone had determined the set of his head. No, he’d held his head higher because he felt better about himself. He was learning to live with nature, learning to provide for himself, learning to respect himself as a clean-living human being.

Buoyed by that confidence, he turned to Leah. “You’ve come to know Victoria well in a year. You must have spent a lot of time with her.”

Leah, who’d eyed him steadily during his latest bout of silence, was more prepared for its end this time. “I did.”

“Socially?”

“If you’re asking whether I went to her parties, the answer is no.”

“Are you married?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been?” It wasn’t crucial to the point of his investigation, but he was curious.

“Yes.”

“Divorced?”

She nodded.

“Recently?”

“It’s been final for two years.”

“Do you date?”

“Do you?”

“I’m asking the questions.”

“That’s obvious, but I’d like to know why. I’m beginning to feel like I’m on a hot seat.”

She sounded hurt. She looked hurt. Garrick surprised himself by feeling remorse, but he was too close to the answer he sought to give up. He did make an effort to soften his tone. “Bear with me. There’s a point to all this.”

“Mmm. To make me turn tail and run. Believe me, I would if I could. I know that you don’t like the idea of a stranger invading your home, but you’re a stranger to me, too, and I’m not so much an invader as a refugee, and if you think I like feeling like a refugee, you’re nuts…” Her voice faded as her eyes began to skip around the cabin. “Paper and pencil?”

Garrick was nonplussed. “What—”

“If I don’t write it down, I’ll forget.”

“Write what down?”

“The idea—nuts, nutty, nutty as a fruitcake, having bats in one’s belfry. Perfect for a theme puzzle.” She was moving her hand, simulating a scribble. “Paper?”

Bemused, Garrick cocked his head toward the kitchen. “Second drawer to the left of the sink.”

Within seconds, she was jotting down the phrases she’d spoken aloud, adding several others to the list before she straightened. Tearing off the sheet, she folded it and tucked it into her breast pocket, returned the pad and pen to the drawer, then sent him a winsome smile. “Where were we?”

Garrick didn’t try to fight the warm feeling that settled in his chest. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Write down ideas? Uh-huh.”

“You really do make crossword puzzles?”

“You didn’t believe me about that, either?”

He moved his head in a way that could have been positive, negative or sheepish. “I’ve never really thought about people doing it.”

“Someone has to.”

He considered that for a minute, uttered a quiet, “True,” then withdrew into his private world again.

Wondering how long he’d be gone this time, Leah walked softly toward the bookshelf nearest her. Its shelves had a wide array of volumes, mostly works of fiction that had been on best-selling lists in recent years. The books were predominantly hardbacked, their paper sheaths worn where they’d been held. Both facts were revealing. Not only did Garrick read everything he bought, but he bought the latest and most expensive, rather than waiting for cheaper mass market editions.

He wasn’t a pauper, that was for sure. Leah wondered where he got the money.

“It must be difficult” came his husky voice. “Finding the right words that will fit together, coming up with witty clues.”

It took Leah a minute to realize that he was talking about crossword puzzles. She had to smile. He faded in and out, but the train of his thought ran along a continuous track. “It is a challenge,” she admitted.

“I’d never be able to do it.”

“That’s okay. I’d never be able to lay traps, catch animals and gut them.” She’d offered the words in innocence and was appalled at how critical they sounded. Turning to qualify them, she lost out to Garrick’s quicker tongue.

“Is that what Victoria told you I do?”

“She said you were a trapper,” Leah answered with greater deference, then added meekly, “I’m afraid the elaboration was my own.”

His expression was guarded. “What else did Victoria say about me?”

“Only what I told you before—that you were a friend and could be trusted. To be honest, I was expecting someone a little—” she shifted a shoulder “—different.”

He raised one eyebrow in question.

“Older. Craggier.” Blushing, she looked off across the room. “When Victoria handed me that envelope, I asked her if it was a love letter.”

“How do you know it wasn’t?” Garrick asked evenly.

Come to think of it, Leah didn’t know. She recalled Victoria saying something vague about craggy old trappers being nice, but the answer had been far from definitive. Her eyes went wide behind her glasses.

To her surprise, he chuckled. “It wasn’t. We’re just friends.” His expression sobered. Propping his elbow on the sofa arm, he pressed his knuckles to his upper lip and mustache. Leah was preparing for another silent spell, when he murmured a muffled, “Until now.”

“What do you mean?”

He dropped his hand and took a breath. “Her sending you here. It’s beginning to smack of something deliberate.”

Leah searched his face for further thoughts. When he didn’t answer immediately, she prodded. “I’m listening.”

“You said that you never went to Victoria’s parties. Did you see her in other social contexts?”

“We went out to dinner often.”

“As a foursome—with men?”

“No.”

“Did she ever comment on that?”

“She didn’t have to. I know that she has male friends, but she loved Arthur very much and has no desire to remarry. She’s never at a loss for an escort when the occasion calls for it.”

“How about you?
Do
you date?” he asked, repeating the question that had sparked earlier resistance.

Leah answered in a tone that was firm and final. “Not when I can help it.”

He was unfazed by her resolve, because he was getting closer to his goal. “Did Victoria have anything to say about that?”

“Oh, yes. She thought I was … working with less than a full deck.” Leah grinned at the phrase she had written down moments before, but the grin didn’t last. “She was forever trying to fix me up, and I was forever refusing.”

Garrick nodded and pressed his lips together, then slid farther down on the sofa, until his thick hair rose against its back. For several more minutes he was lost in thought. Eventually he took a deep breath and raised disheartened eyes to the rafters. “That,” he said, “was what I was afraid of.”

Not having been privy to his thoughts, Leah didn’t follow. “What do you mean?”

“She’s done the same to me more than once.”

“Done what?”

“Tried to fix me up.” He held up a hand. “Granted, it’s more difficult up here, but that didn’t stop her. She’s convinced that anyone who hasn’t experienced what she had with Arthur is missing out on life’s bounty.” His eyes sought Leah’s, and he hesitated for a long moment before speaking. “Do you see what I’m getting at?”

With dawning horror, Leah did see. “She did it on purpose.”

“Looks that way.”

“She didn’t tell me about the fire, but she did tell me about you.”

“Right.”

Closing her eyes, Leah fought a rising anger. “She was so cavalier about my paying rent, wouldn’t accept anything beforehand, told me to send her whatever I thought the place was worth.”

“Clever.”

“When I asked if the cabin was well equipped, her exact words were, ‘When last I saw it, it was.’”

“True enough.”

“No wonder she was edgy.”

“Victoria? Edgy?”

“Unusual, I know, but she was. I chalked it up to a latent maternal instinct.” She rolled her eyes. “Boy, was I wrong. It was guilt, pure guilt. She actually had the gall to remind me that I wouldn’t have air-conditioning or a phone, the snake.” Muttering the last under her breath, Leah turned her back on Garrick and crossed her arms over her breasts.

That was the moment he came to believe that everything she’d told him was the truth. Had she started to shout and pace the floor in anger, he would have wondered. That would have smelled of a script, a soap-opera reaction, lacking subtlety.

But she wasn’t shouting or pacing. Her anger was betrayed only by quickened breathing and the rigidity of her stance. From the little he’d seen of her, he’d judged her to be restrained where her emotions were concerned. Her reaction now was consistent with that impression.

Strangely, Garrick’s own anger was less acute than he would have expected. If he’d known beforehand what Victoria had planned, he’d have hit the roof. But he hadn’t known, and Leah was already here, and there was something about her self-contained distress that tugged at his heart.

Almost before his eyes, that distress turned to mortification. Cheeks a bright red, she cast a harried glance over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry. She had no right to foist me on you.”

“It wasn’t your fault—”

“But you shouldn’t have to be stuck with me.”

“It goes two ways. You’re stuck with me, too.”

“I could have done worse.”

“So could I.”

Unsure of what to make of his agreeable tone, Leah turned back to the bookshelf. It was then that the full measure of her predicament hit her. She and Garrick had been thrust together for what Victoria had intended to be a romantic spell. But if Victoria had hoped for love at first sight, she was going to be disappointed. Leah didn’t believe in love at first sight. She wasn’t even sure if she believed in love, since it had brought her pain once before, but that was neither here nor there. She didn’t know Garrick Rodenhiser. Talk of love was totally inappropriate.

Attraction at first sight—that, perhaps, was worth considering. She couldn’t deny that she found Garrick physically appealing. Not even his sprawling pose could detract from his long-limbed grace. His face, his beard, the sturdiness of his shoulders spoke of ruggedness; she’d have had to be blind not to see it, and dead not to respond.

And that other attraction—the one spawned by the deep, inner feelings that occasionally escaped from his eyes? It baffled her.

“I didn’t want this,” she murmured to her knotted hands.

From the silence came a quiet, “I know.”

“I feel … you must feel … humiliated.”

“A little awkward. That’s all.”

“Here I am in your underwear…”