Love Me (7 page)

“You wouldn’t!”

“I would.”

She sat up, glowering.  “I repeat:  I hate you.”

“You don’t hate me.  You’re glad I brought you.  Admit it.  You didn’t have the courage to come on your own, and you’re relieved that I made you.  If your mother finds out you attended, you can blame it all on me.”

“You are a sneaky, lying, dishonest, two-faced—“

“Yeah, whatever.”

He picked up the phone and called the front desk again.

“What are you doing now?” she asked.

“With how it’s pouring down out there, we might be trapped for a couple of days.”

“A couple of days?  Are you insane?  I’m engaged!  I can’t stay in a hotel with you.”

“I don’t see how you have any choice.”

“I could kill you and hide your body out in a snow bank.  Then I’d have the room all to myself.”

“You’re not big enough or bad enough to kill me.  Besides, I’m too tough to die.”

And too lucky
, he thought. 

When he reflected on all the violent fights he’d had as a kid, all the years he’d spent in Iraq, and then the terrible, brutal conclusion, he often felt as if he was a cat who’d used up six or seven of its lives.  He still had a few to go.

The receptionist answered, and he fumbled in a drawer for a pen and paper.  He jotted down the address for a boutique that the woman swore Brittney would love.  He also got directions to a drugstore so she could purchase what she needed if they were stuck for awhile.

Because he’d known they were coming, he was prepared.  He’d packed a bag that was stashed in his trunk.  But he’d snatched her away with only the clothes on her back.  He had to dress her better, feed her, calm her, then she’d be easier to handle.

While his initial impression of her was that she was a pushover, she proved to be extremely stubborn.  She refused to accompany him to do any shopping, and he’d refused to leave her where she might vanish the minute he left.  She was so rich; she could buy a car and drive away before he realized that she had.

So he’d made more phone calls, to the desk, to the boutique, to the drugstore.  The power of money always fascinated him.  Within the hour, he had people delivering what he’d requested. 

The lady from the boutique was especially helpful.  She’d pronounced herself an apparel “artist” who’d retired from LA, and she had all kinds of fancy stuff for Brittney.  She was aware of who Brittney was too, so she hadn’t even insisted on being paid. 

She dropped off a couple thousand dollars worth of outfits, telling Brittney to wear what she liked and return the rest later.  The guy from the drugstore was the same.  Her surname was like gold bullion in the town, and all her toiletries were free, a gift from the owner.

Finally, everyone departed, and he and Brittney were alone again.  The place looked as if a cyclone had blown through.  There were clothes strewn across the bed, bags of cosmetics tossed into the bathroom.  Brittney was in a chair by the window, appearing so wretched that she might have just had a root canal.

He studied her, assessing her aloof beauty, her quiet misery.  Though she was rich and smart and educated, with a fortune that could provide any sort of life that might make her happy, she was so isolated and forlorn.

He’d told her that he couldn’t bear seeing a damsel in distress, that he might become her knight in shining armor, and he hadn’t been joking.  She seemed so in need of friendship and affection, and he was eager to jump in with both feet, to give her what she required. 

When he was with her, his masculine tendencies started firing on all cylinders.  He wanted to seduce her, to have wild sex with her, to wake up next to her the morning after.  Yet he craved more than that.  He was desperate to care for her, to protect her, and if he wasn’t cautious, he’d get himself in much deeper than he’d planned.

If he reached out to her and she latched on, it wouldn’t be easy to pull away when he was finished with her.  He didn’t bond or form attachments, and he was always surprised that he’d maintained a connection with Ken—though he credited Ken with the relationship.  Ken had refused to leave Matt alone, and he was more like a bad habit that Matt couldn’t break. 

But with other people, it didn’t take sessions on a therapist’s couch to recognize his personal shortcomings and how they’d developed. 

As a boy, he’d suffered too much loss, and it had warped him, had left him wary.  He didn’t believe he was
able
to bond with a woman.  It wasn’t in his nature.

“Don’t make me go to the reception,” Brittney glumly said.

She looked so sad that his heart actually flip-flopped in his chest.  He went over and clasped hold of her hand. 

“What are you so afraid of?” he asked.

“I’m not afraid.  I’m just…just…”  She halted, pondering, then she grumbled, “Okay, maybe I am afraid.”

“Of your brothers?”

“You don’t understand what it was like for us.”

“Tell me.  I’m a good listener.”

“I hardly know them.  We were never together as kids.  My mother enrolled us in boarding schools at the first opportunity.  Sometimes, years would pass where I wouldn’t talk to them, and when I did…”

Her voice trailed off again, her embarrassment acute. 

Ken had already told him this story.  As a cop who was constantly broke, Ken had moonlighted as a security guard.  He’d often worked for her father, David Merriweather, when David deigned to grace Denver with his exalted presence.

Their main business offices were downtown in the city center, and Brittney’s parents would stop in to host conferences or throw fancy parties at their mansion.

Ken had seen and heard plenty.

“Didn’t Dustin send you an invitation?” he inquired.

“Yes, but I don’t think he really wants me there.”

“That’s what has you worried?”  He laughed.  “I don’t know a lot about weddings, but I’m pretty sure the bride and groom don’t send an invitation unless they’re hoping the person will attend.”

“But I’ve never met his bride.  Or Lucas’s either.  I was in Europe when he got married.  I was trapped in a blizzard and couldn’t fly out.  After I returned, I never bothered to visit them.”

“Isn’t it time you did?”

“How do I just show up?  How do I just walk in like it’s no big deal?”

“Honey, you brazen it out.  You’re the Merriweather princess.  Start acting like it.”

“I’ve deliberately avoided their wives.  There’s been so much terrible gossip about them, and they’ll realize that’s why I’ve stayed away.  They must hate me.”

Ah, the real crux of the problem.

“Who said bad things about them?  Your mother?”

“Yes.”

“She’s an idiot.  Why would you take her word for it?”

She chuckled, but miserably.  “You make everything sound so easy.”

“That’s because it is easy.  You’ll see.  And I’ll be there, guarding your back.  No one will hurt you; I won’t let them.”  He pulled her to her feet.  “Come on.  Let’s get you ready.” 

She rose too fast, the momentum carrying her forward so that, suddenly, she was pressed against him, her entire body stretched out the length of his. 

He had a fleeting instant to feel every delicious inch of her.  The pert breasts.  The slender waist.  The thin, shapely legs. 

The air seemed to crack and sizzle with sexual energy.  They both sucked in a shocked breath, then lurched away.    

She frowned at him, and he frowned too.  There was a potent and remarkable temptation brewing between them.  So far, he’d done nothing to exacerbate it.  Instead, he was working to lower her defenses, nudging her to examine her life, her choices, to recognize that she was unhappy.   

If she was confused and distraught, and he was around and available and supportive, she’d be more likely to behave as he wanted her to behave.  He’d developed some delicious fantasies that included things like stripping her naked and having raucous, slippery sex in the shower, but she was engaged to her precious Andrew, so he couldn’t proceed.

He was positive he could convince her to break her engagement.  It was obvious she wasn’t eager to wed her fiancé, but she was having trouble admitting it.  Matt was in a perfect position to steer her in a different direction, but he had to tread carefully.  If he seduced her while she was still engaged, she’d end up feeling guilty and angry, and he’d bear the brunt of her remorse—which would ruin all his plans.   

He paused, watching her, seeing that she was about to comment on their blistering attraction.  Except that it dawned on her that this wasn’t a conversation they could have.  Not when she thought herself to be in love and racing toward her marriage.  She spun and stomped into the bathroom.

To his relief, she scooped up an armful of clothes and took them with her.  Evidently, she’d decided to dress so they could head for her brother’s reception. 

He went to the window and gazed out at the stormy sky. 

In his dealings with women, he pictured himself as being extremely rational.  He had sex with them and that was it, but where she was concerned, he was completely baffled as to how he should handle her. 

Every pore in his body was jangling, his male instincts on high alert.  Though the door between them was closed, he could smell her, could sense her every move, could practically feel her heat emanating through the wall.

He was suffering from the strongest urge to march over, to waltz in and seize what she wasn’t ready to give.  He braced his palm on the cold glass of the window, centering himself, calming himself.

“Settle down, boy,” he muttered.  “All good things come to those who wait.”

He grinned at his reflection, liking the odds, liking his chances.

*          *          *          *

“Who is that?”

“Where?”

“Over by the door.”

Amy Dane Merriweather grabbed Dustin, her new husband, by the arm.  They were in the front parlor of the old Merriweather mansion.  It was the first and only room they’d refurbished in what they envisioned as a lifetime of effort to restore the town to its prior glory.

The grand house was packed with people, and she had to shift him so he could see who she meant. 

A striking couple had stepped in from the foyer.  They were regally posed, peering around as if they owned the place.

The guy was tall, buff, and macho, dark-haired and menacing, while the woman was petite, blond, and pretty.  They were arresting and conspicuous, an intriguing combination of light and dark, danger and beauty.  

“I don’t know them,” Amy said.  “Are they friends of yours?”

“Oh, my God.”  Dustin graced her with one of his rare smiles.  “It’s my sister.”

“Your sister came?  How cool is that!”

It had been a bone of contention for them.  Amy didn’t have any siblings and had virtually raised herself and her two younger sisters, so she was relentless when family was involved.   

She and Dustin had argued about sending an invitation to Brittney.  Dustin had insisted it was a waste of time, that Brittney would ignore it.  He claimed she’d heard too many negative stories from his mother about Amy being a gold-digger and mercenary who was simply after Dustin’s money.  He’d worried that Amy would be hurt by Brittney’s disregard.

But Amy was a tenacious optimist.  She’d sent the invite anyway, then had fussed and pouted over it, wanting to call Brittney, to introduce herself, then pester the poor woman until she agreed to attend.  She’d restrained herself, though. 

“Ha!  She’s here, and I didn’t even have to badger or bribe her.”  She elbowed him in the ribs.  “I already know her better than you do.”

“Don’t get a big head.”

“Who’s the hunk with her?”

“He must be her fiancé, Andrew.  I haven’t met him yet.  Come on.”

He took her hand, and they wedged their way through the horde of guests.

“I thought he was a New York banker,” Amy said.  “He doesn’t look like a banker.”

“What does he look like?”

“Not a banker.”

Amy studied the man with a heightened female interest, not bothering to conceal the fact that she found him to be yummy.

Dustin scowled, making her laugh.

“You’re drooling, Amy.”

“I can’t help it.”

“If you keep staring at him like that, he’ll think you’re loose and easy.”

“I
am
loose and easy, but just since I hooked up with you.  I’ve been completely corrupted.”

“Aren’t I lucky?”

He swooped in and stole a quick kiss that had her grinning like an idiot, and she wanted to pinch herself.

She still couldn’t believe that she—plain, ordinary, small town Amy Dane—had snagged Dustin.  She still couldn’t believe that he loved her, that he’d married her, that he’d abandoned his glamorous bachelor’s life in LA so he could live happily ever after with her up in the middle of nowhere.

As they pushed nearer to the front of the room, they passed Lucas and his wife, Faith. 

“Brittney came,” Amy told her. 

“Brittney?”  Faith grinned too.

“Yes, with her fiancé from New York.”

“Oh, that’s so great!”

She and Faith rushed on, leaving the two brothers trailing behind.  They burst out of the crowd, and Amy marched right up to Brittney, her hands extended in welcome.

“Brittney!” Amy gushed.  “Hi!  I’m Amy.”

Brittney hesitated, giving Amy’s outstretched fingers a fleet squeeze, then she let go.  Now that Amy was closer, Brittney’s confidence wasn’t quite as evident as it had been from a distance. 

She appeared nervous, as if maybe she’d been worried she wouldn’t be welcome, and Amy sighed with exasperation.

Merriweathers! 
Weren’t they the weirdest people ever?

“This is Lucas’s wife, Faith.”  Amy gestured to Faith, and Faith smiled.

“Hello, Brittney.”

Faith didn’t bluster up exuberantly as Amy had done, but there were reasons for her reserve.  Brittney had likely heard even more horrid gossip about Faith than she had about Amy.

Amy had simply married a Merriweather son.  Faith had taken a Merriweather son’s money and
then
married him.  So she’d committed a double sin.

“Hello,” Brittney said to Faith.