Love Me (9 page)

She smiled at him, looking rumpled and adorable.  How was he supposed to behave, how was he supposed to resist, when she looked like that?

She rested a palm on his cheek, the gesture poignant and comforting in a way that upset him.

Over the years, he’d had scant positive feminine attention, and sometimes, he was starved for it.  With any female—but especially her—he had to be cautious.  Should a woman actually give him what he often thought he desperately craved, he’d have no idea how to take what was provided.

He was an unapologetic liar and fraud.  He’d never lived up to anyone’s expectations, had never tried harder than was necessary.  Wherever he went, he caused trouble and wreaked havoc.

A woman like Brittney—with so much of her own baggage—might need a man in her life, but she didn’t need a man like Matt.

“Aren’t we going to have sex?” she asked.

“No.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Oh, I want to, but we’re not going to.”

“How come?”

“You know why.”

“You’re a good kisser,” she said, and he chuckled.

“So are you.”

“I’ve been wondering what it would be like.”

“I have been too.”

“It was nice.”

“Yes, it was.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“You loose little floozy, you.”

He was smiling too.  She was so pretty, so lonely and alone, and he couldn’t bear to gaze into her beautiful eyes.  There was too much sadness in them, and it ignited his masculine tendencies, made him anxious to offer her things he could never supply.

He rolled her onto her side and spooned himself to her back.  For a long while, he was very still, listening to her breathe as he ran a hand up and down her hip and thigh.  He was inundated in ways he hadn’t realized he would be, and he was disgusted to find himself trying to imprint every facet of the encounter into his memory bank so that he never forgot any of it.

He didn’t want the night to end.  He wanted to kiss her again and again and again.  He wanted her in his bed and in his life and wasn’t that the craziest notion?

She yawned and snuggled nearer. 

“I’m engaged,” she said, her words slurred. 

“You certainly are.”

“I’m marrying Andrew in July.”

The alcohol finally worked its magic, and she slumped into slumber.

“We’ll see, honey,” he murmured to her sleeping form.  “We’ll see if you marry your precious Andrew.”

Gradually, he dozed too, and when he woke, she was gone, and there wasn’t the slightest hint anywhere in the room that she’d ever been there at all.

*          *          *          *

“I’m sorry about this.”

“Don’t be sorry.  I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.  Matt and I are old friends.  I’m aware of how difficult he can be.”

Brittney pressed the phone to her ear, feeling stupidly close to tears.  Brandon Talbot, the owner of Talbot Security, was being just as understanding as she’d hoped he would be.

“I don’t want to get him in trouble or cost him his job,” she said.

“You haven’t.”

“He wasn’t right for my situation, but he’d be terrific somewhere else.”

“I have plenty of other spots where I can send Matt.  Don’t worry about him; he always lands on his feet.”

“How do you know him so well?”  She could have kicked herself for her curiosity.  She did
not
care about Matt, did not care about his relationships outside the weird bubble where he’d existed for her.

It was just that—in her usual self-centered, egocentric way—she’d spent several days with him and hadn’t learned a single, relevant personal detail.  He’d claimed to have been a soldier, but she had no idea if the story was true.

“He and I served together in Iraq,” Mr. Talbot said. 

“He really was in the army?”

“Yes, and he’s an extremely brave and tough individual.”

“I could tell that he is.”  She was absurdly proud of the information, as if Matt was hers, as if he was her kid and his teacher had offered effusive praise.

“I think,” Talbot continued, “he comes across a bit strong.  He hasn’t been back in the U.S. all that long, and with his being in the hospital all those months—“

“Months!”

“He was gravely wounded; it was a lengthy recovery.”

“I didn’t realize the extent of his injuries.”

“He’s still adjusting.  So again, if he upset or distressed you, let me apologize.”

“He didn’t upset me,” she lied.  “I’d simply be better off with a guy who’s less…conspicuous.”

“I totally agree.  I’ll send someone over right away.”

“Thank you.”  Brittney stared at the floor, feeling awful, feeling like a traitor.  “And would you please make sure he knows he shouldn’t come back?”

“Absolutely.”

“Tell him that I specifically requested he be reassigned.”

“I will.”

“I’m just worried that he might not take kindly to my decision.  I wouldn’t want him storming over here.”

“He won’t.  You have my word on it.”

She hung up the phone, but she glared at it, as if it might ring and she’d give Talbot different instructions.

She was in Denver—at the mansion.  The sun was low in the western sky, the afternoon waning.  Colors seemed too bright, noises too loud, and she was wearing her sunglasses, needing to block out her surroundings, the world, the universe. 

She hadn’t thought she’d had that much to drink at her brother’s reception, but apparently, she’d overindulged to the point of recklessness. 

She was terribly hung over, and the state was rare for her.  Her head was throbbing, her bones aching, and she felt so sad, as if she could crumple to the rug and weep for a week.

She went to the window and gazed out, half expecting to find Matt sitting in his red Mustang.  But he wasn’t there, and she was so relieved.

He was a dangerous man.  Dangerous to her well-being.  Dangerous to her future. 

He sensed her insecurities, her isolation, her desire to belong and be loved.  Because he was sympathetic, because he was perceptive and supportive, she’d grown attached to him and couldn’t bear to let go.

Even now, when she’d called his boss to guarantee that she never saw him again, she was swamped by the preposterous impression that she was making all the wrong choices. 

She’d shamed herself, had jeopardized her engagement, had proved that she was loose and fickle and disloyal.  She was sick over what she had done.  What would Andrew think if he knew? 

She had always viewed herself as a faithful and devoted person who could be relied upon to behave correctly.  Yet she’d nearly tossed it all away for Matt Monroe.

She wanted to marry Andrew.  She
wanted
it.  She wanted to be a wife, to live in New York City, to share his life and friends.  She wanted to be accepted into the elevated social sphere where he thrived, where she would thrive, too.

She wasn’t interested in a wild fling with an inappropriate, vain, macho man who could never mean anything to her.  Why had she wandered down such an irresponsible, unsuitable road?

When she’d awakened next to him at dawn, when she’d remembered every delicious, humiliating detail, she’d been stunned by her conduct and too unnerved to face him.

She’d slid out of the bed, dressed, and sneaked off without his stirring.  The weather had cleared, and it had been easy to rent a car, to drive away.  Then, for some inexplicable reason, she’d cried all the way to Denver.

But she was on familiar ground now.  She was where she belonged, where she’d stay.  The encounter with Matt had been an aberration, one she wouldn’t pursue or repeat.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and her mother entered the parlor.

“Where have you been?” Jacquelyn demanded.

“I went out partying,” Brittney said.  “I got back late, so I slept in.”

“Honestly, Brittney, I realize you’re an adult and can do as you please, but you might have warned me.  The housekeeper asked if she should cook you breakfast, and I had no idea what to tell her.”

“I’m sure she survived.”

“What if you’d had an accident?  I didn’t know where you were.  I was worried.”

No, you weren’t,
Brittney thought, but she didn’t say so.  Instead, she inquired, “Why are you still here?  I could have sworn I told you to head to Santa Fe.”

“And I told you that you were being absurd.  I came to this godforsaken town to plan your wedding.  I’m not going home until we’re finished.”

“I’m not waiting until July to get married.”

“What?”  Jacquelyn’s astonished expression was amusing.

“I don’t want to delay that long.”

“It’s only three months as it is.  It’s not as if you’re rushing.”

“I’d like to do it next week or the week after.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m flying to New York to speak with Andrew.  I have a reservation tomorrow night.  I’ll have him check his schedule to see if he’d be available to get it accomplished any earlier.”

“Then what?” Jacquelyn scoffed.  “I couldn’t possibly pull any guests together that quickly.”

“I might just drag him off to a judge in New York.”

“You will not,” Jacquelyn fumed.

“If he can get away, we’ll do it here.  If not, I’ll settle for a small and fast event in New York.  There’s no reason for him to travel all this way—except that I had hoped to have the ceremony here in the mansion.  But I don’t have to have it in Denver.”

She left her perch by the window and headed for the hall, the path taking her by her mother.  She simply wanted to go to her room, to shut the curtains and lie in the dark until it was time to drive to the airport the following evening.

Though she couldn’t understand why, she felt as if she was grieving, as if she was mourning what she’d lost, what might have been.

Jacquelyn clutched her wrist and snarled, “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“You look awful.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you all right?  Did something happen last night while you were out.”

“Nothing happened,” Brittney claimed.  “Nothing at all.”

She yanked away, went to the grand staircase, and began to climb.

CHAPTER SIX

“Would you eat something?”

“I’m not five years old, Mother.  Don’t nag.”

“You’re picking at your plate like a bird.  Why bother to order any food if you’re not going to eat it?”

Brittney glared at Jacquelyn.

Her mother had dragged Brittney out to lunch, and Brittney had staggered after her, not clear on why she’d consented.  It was much easier to comply than fight her.  It had always been that way between them.

Jacquelyn demanded, and Brittney obeyed.

She’d been stuck in the mansion, with her flight to New York not leaving until after ten o’clock that night.

She’d been pacing in her room, feeling antsy and miserable.  At the slightest noise, she’d jump, certain it was Matt arriving to yell at her for sneaking off from Gold Creek without a goodbye, for her getting him fired.

She shouldn’t have been thinking about him at all, but she couldn’t seem to stop, which was insane.  She was engaged to a perfectly suitable man who was her social and financial equal.  Yet she was obsessed with a thoroughly inappropriate ex-soldier who had glommed onto her for reasons she didn’t understand. 

What was wrong with her?

She kept wondering where he was, what he was doing, how he’d reacted after talking to Brandon Talbot.

Obviously, a message had been conveyed, because a guy named Ted had shown up in his place.  He was short and overweight, with a crooked tie and stain on his shirt.  He didn’t look tough or menacing, and she was irked by his inability to seem threatening.

Matt might have had a bad arm, but if some sort of attack had actually occurred, she’d have been safe.  With Ted, she felt exposed and in danger—even though she’d never previously detected a hint of risk.

When her mother had knocked on her bedroom door to announce that she was visiting the downtown headquarters of Merriweather Industries, when she’d insisted Brittney tag along, Brittney had agreed.  She’d had to get out of the house or she might have exploded.

Neither Jacquelyn nor Brittney had ever worked for Merriweather Industries, but Jacquelyn liked to waltz through the offices, liked to put everyone on edge, to remind them who owned everything.

They’d made an appearance, then headed to a sidewalk cafe.  But Brittney was grouchy and in no mood for Jacquelyn’s chatter.

“I lied yesterday,” she suddenly confessed.

Jacquelyn scowled.  “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t go out partying as I claimed.”

“Where did you go?”

“I went up to Gold Creek—to Dustin’s wedding.”

Jacquelyn froze, her fork suspended in mid-air.

“How dare you defy me,” she hissed.

“How dare I?  As I just mentioned, I’m not five anymore.  If I decide to attend my brother’s wedding, it’s none of your business.”

“We are not welcoming that…
woman
into this family.”

“I doubt she cares if she’s welcomed by you or not.  Everybody else is pretty happy to have her join us.  Including me.”

“Your brother may shame himself in any fashion he chooses.  He can ignore his prominent name and station in life, but he does so at his own peril.”

“He’s a grown man with his own fortune.  How could you punish him?  Will you spank him if he doesn’t behave?”

“There are many ways to make him pay.”

Brittney rolled her eyes with disgust.  “Do you have any idea how pompous you sound?”

Her mother went off on a tirade, complaining about Lucas, about Dustin, about their wives and marriages.  Brittney tried to listen, but she was distracted.  The hairs on the back of her neck started to prickle, and she was suffering from the strangest impression that she was being watched.

She glanced around, but didn’t see anything odd.  Her erstwhile bodyguard, the hapless Ted, was sitting at a coffee shop across the street.  He was busy reading the paper, so if there had been a suspicious person lurking, he wouldn’t have noticed.

A burst of reflected sunlight made her blink, and she peered down the block, positive she saw a camera lens.  But as quickly as she noted it, the camera—and the man holding it—slipped out of sight.