Only Hers (4 page)

Trembling fingers massaged her temper.
Stress.
Yes, that was the cause of her uncharacteristic behavior, and Matt’s distrustful attitude was only making it worse. Confident that she now knew why she was reacting so strangely, she lifted her head, then grimaced at the face staring back at her in the oval mirror.

Gone was the happy, carefree person whose eyes sparkled with laughter and optimism. In her place was a pale shadow with dark smudges beneath somber eyes and lines of strain around a mouth that seldom laughed. If she didn’t get Matt to listen to reason, she wasn’t sure the image of the vibrant woman she once was would ever return. Snapping out the light, she closed the door and followed Matt’s direction to the kitchen.

“Where should I sit?”

Standing at the stove, Matt pointed with a meat fork to a ladder-back chair at the circular oak table. A plate of food was in front. “I can’t eat all that,” she told him, her gaze on the overflowing plate of roast, new potatoes, carrots, and three steaming biscuits.

Broad shoulders shrugged. “Eat what you can.” Bringing his plate from the stove, he sat across from her. “You look like you could use it.”

She tucked her head in embarrassment and said grace. She initially picked at the food as she usually did, then found herself actually eating. The roast was delicious. Shannon moaned and closed her eyes in appreciation as she chewed. Swallowing, she flicked her lashes upward. She started to ask if he had cooked the dinner, but froze.

Piercing black eyes watched her intently. “What—what’s the matter?” she asked, hating the breathless sound of her voice, hating worse that she was unable to do anything about it.

“You were making moaning sounds.”

She flushed. “I’m sorry. I guess I was enjoying the food and got carried away.”

His searing gaze flickered to her lips. “So I gathered. Are you always so easily pleased?”

Shannon’s grip on her fork tightened. “I enjoy good food, if that’s what you mean.”

“It’s not and we both know it,” he said, his voice a lazy wisp of sound that caressed and promised endless pleasure.

Shannon felt flushed. Unsteadily she rose. “Thank you for dinner and good night.”

Matt came upright. Unrelenting fingers closed loosely around her wrist. “We haven’t had our talk yet.”

Shannon felt the heat of his hand, the hypnotic pull of his black eyes. She fought to keep from swaying closer. God, what was the matter with her? “I—I think it’s best that I leave.”

“Which one of us don’t you trust?”

She shied away from the answer to his question. Her chin lifted. “My arm.”

For a long moment Matt studied the defiance in her eyes that was in direct contrast to the trembling of her body, the pulse leaping wildly in her delicate wrist. All he had to do was exert the tiniest pressure and she would be in his arms. He was sure of it.

His gaze lifted from her quivering lips to her wide, uncertain eyes. Fear mixed with desire stared back at him. Inexplicably, he felt the twin needs to console and possess. Both were dangerous. A grasping female like Shannon Johnson was the last woman on earth he wanted to become involved with. Long fingers uncurled; he stepped back.

“Ready for dessert?”

Two pairs of startled eyes swung toward the jovial female voice. Octavia stood by the kitchen counter with a lattice-crusted apple pie in her hands. The housekeeper
frowned on seeing the barely touched food on Shannon’s plate. “Didn’t you like my roast?”

Shannon couldn’t help from glancing at Matt’s emotionless features. “It was very good, but I have to go.”

“Nonsense,” the robust woman told her. “Matt, sit the young lady back down and I’ll put the pie within easy reach. Homemade vanilla ice cream is in the freezer.”

Not wanting Matt to touch her again, Shannon quickly sat down on her own, but not before she saw the knowing look in his eyes before he took his own seat.

“Since Matt has forgotten his manners, I’m Octavia Ralston, the housekeeper.”

“Shannon Johnson.” This time her hand and her smile were accepted and returned.

“You two eat up.” Octavia gave Matt a brilliant grin. “Don’t forget to put the food up when you do the dishes.”

Matt spluttered.

Shannon glanced from Matt’s shocked expression to the retreating back of the housekeeper. No sound came from her, but her round shoulders were shaking as if she were laughing.

Shannon’s quizzical gaze went back to Matt. He looked ready to take someone’s head off. She smiled.

Something had transpired between Octavia and Matt. Shannon hadn’t understood exactly what, but apparently Matt had been bested. Whatever the reason, she applauded anyone who could take down her opinionated host. Picking up her fork, she speared a potato and chewed with enthusiasm.

“I see your appetite has returned,” Matt said.

“Yes, it has.” She cut a sliver of roast. “I like Mrs. Ralston.”

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with her putting me on dishwashing duty, would it?”

Shannon smiled around a yawn. “I’ll help you do the dishes. I haven’t enjoyed a meal so much in months.”

“I’ll do them myself,” he grumbled.

“Fine.”

Black eyes widened. “You aren’t going to argue?”

Shannon took a sip of iced tea before answering. “No.”

Matt couldn’t believe the whimsical smile on her face. Despite his obvious annoyance, she was fighting to keep from laughing. In his memory no woman had dared laugh in his face. They were too busy trying to get his attention.

He watched as Shannon lost the battle. Brown eyes sparkled. Her obvious weariness seemed to fade as her animated face began to shine with beauty and soft laughter started low in her throat.

“Did you make Wade laugh?” he asked abruptly.

The melodious sound ended as abruptly as it had begun. A shadow crossed her face. “We made each other laugh.”

“If he meant that much to you, why didn’t you come to his funeral?”

“I wanted to, but I just couldn’t leave.” Her hand clutched her glass. Her voice lowered. “There was so little time.”

“Time for what?”

Her head snapped up. If there had been the least bit of softening in Matt’s demeanor, she might have told him about her grandfather. There wasn’t.

“Life,” she answered, then laid her fork aside and stood. “If you don’t mind, I’d like for us to have that talk now. I’m suddenly rather tired.”

Matt slowly came to his feet. She was hiding something and he was going to find out what it was. “We’ll talk in the den.”

Leading the way, Shannon took a seat in a comfortable-looking overstuffed leather chair. Settling back into the welcoming softness, she yawned.

“When did you sleep last?” Matt took a seat across from her and tried not to notice the way her T-shirt clung to the lushness of her breasts.

“In the meadow.”

“I mean before that.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

She started to shrug and yawned instead. “I got a few hours early Saturday morning after coming off a double shift.”

“What!” He came upright in his chair. “You drove all the way here on a few hours of sleep? You could have killed yourself.”

Shannon straightened. Her family and James had called her foolish for driving instead of flying; she didn’t need Matt adding his two cents’ worth. “I’m here to talk about Wade’s will, not my work schedule.”

Matt’s brief nod conceded she was right. It was none of his business what she did . . . unless it involved the meadow. “Why did you wait so long to make your claim?”

“I told you that I was busy taking care of personal business.”

“Such as?”

She clamped her hands together. If she tried to discuss the loss of her grandfather with someone as cynical as Matt, she’d fall apart. Talking about Wade was enough of an ordeal. Tears stung the back of her eyes. Yet, to let them fall would only subject her to more of Matt’s sarcasm.

“Such as none of your business.”

“When you claimed Taggart land you became my business. I can hire someone to find the answers to my questions.”

“Then hire someone.”

Matt’s heavy brow arched. Shannon might be down, but she was still fighting. “Why did Wade leave you the land? At least you can tell me that.”

Shannon leaned wearily back in her chair “Wade was a very perceptive and caring man. Even when he was sick, he thought of others. We used to talk about his meadow. He called it a place of sunshine. After he was discharged from the hospital he invited me on several occasions to visit, but there never seemed to be enough time.” Regret rang in her soft voice. She swallowed.

“About a . . . a month before he died, he called and we talked. I . . . I was going through a difficult time and he said I needed his meadow.”

“Why did Wade think you needed his meadow? Had some man dumped you?”

“No, but a woman obviously dumped you.” Matt’s jaw clenched. Shannon shrank from her own cruelty. It wasn’t like her to taunt someone, no matter the provocation.

Trembling fingers rubbed her pounding forehead. “I’m sorry.” Wearily she pushed to her feet. “Thanks for dinner. It’s time I started back.”

Matt stood. “Back where? You’re so tired you can hardly stand.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I can take care of myself. Frankly I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” she confessed. “I didn’t have any trouble staying awake until I reached the meadow. Now that I’m here, I can’t seem to keep my eyes open.”

Matt snorted in derision. “I guess you’re going to tell me Wade left you the meadow as a sleep aid.”

“I wouldn’t dare tell anyone as judgmental and pigheaded as you anything.”

Eyes narrowed, Matt glared down at her. “I don’t like being called names.”

“Neither do I, but that hasn’t seemed to stop you.”

“I never called you anything.”

Eyes flaring, Shannon advanced on him. “Not outright, but you have a biting way of saying an innocent-sounding word and making the person feel like an inchworm.”

“Lady—”

“Don’t you ever call me lady again!” she yelled, so furious with him that she jabbed her index finger against his unyielding chest.

Matt wondered where this fiery woman had come from. Then his thoughts centered on something else, on the softness of her lower body pressed enticingly against his. Desire struck him low and fast. “Damn.”

Shannon realized two things at once: that her thighs
were pressed intimately against Matt’s and that her body was enjoying every titillating second. She stumbled backward. The meadow might be helping her rest but it was also turning her into an oversexed, argumentative shrew.

James Harper, the brilliant lawyer who wanted to marry her, the man she had known and respected for two years, had never made her body react this way. He had never made her want like this. He also had never made her lose her temper.

Of all the etiquette her mother had instilled in Shannon, the one lesson she never forgot was that no matter the situation or the provocation, she must always remain a lady.

Then, too, her grandfather had always maintained that being in control of your emotions had little to do with breeding and everything to do with intelligence. No one in her family shouted . . . except in court.

Even when her parents were at their steam-rolling worst, everyone remained polite. Whatever the situation, the Johnsons were always well bred.

“I . . . I don’t usually act this way,” Shannon excused.

“Must be the meadow.”

Shannon didn’t know if Matt was trying for humor or sarcasm. She decided she was too tired to care. “Good night and thank you again for dinner.”

“I asked you before, where do you think you’re going?”

“To find a comfortable bed.”

“You’re not leaving this house.” Her mouth gaped. His thinned. “Don’t flatter yourself. Octavia sleeps here.”

“Thank you, but—”

Matt talked over her protest. “Jackson Falls is twelve miles from here on some of the most winding two-lane roads in the county. There is no sense in putting yourself, much less someone else, in danger.”

Her chin lifted. “Thank you for the offer, but I can manage. If I can’t, I’ll pull over and sleep in the car.” Without another word she headed for the door, well aware that
Matt followed behind her. She quelled the urge to run down the steps.

“You aren’t going to let her go, are you?” Octavia asked from directly behind Matt. “Sleeping in her car is ridiculous and dangerous, especially when we have three empty bedrooms upstairs. The poor thing is so tired she can hardly think straight.”

Matt wasn’t surprised by Octavia’s appearance. Keeping anything from her was like trying to hold a greased pig, frustrating and almost impossible. “What do you want me to do? Drag her back by her hair?”

The housekeeper sniffed. “All I know is that any man worth his salt—”

Matt turned. Something about the look in his eyes stopped Octavia from completing what she had been about to say. She started back toward the kitchen. “I guess I better get to those dishes.”

Shannon’s car engine and her headlights came to life the same instant.

“Stubborn woman,” Matt muttered. He strode from the house and didn’t stop until he stood directly in the path of the car. Tires screeched.

Shannon jumped out of the car, her voice and her body trembling. “W-what do you think you’re doing? I could have killed you.”

Ignoring her, Matt reached into the car, cut the engine, then removed the keys from the ignition. Opening the trunk, he grabbed her two pieces of Louis Vuitton luggage and slammed the lid.

She was right behind him. “Put those back.”

“I’ll be happy to in the morning. Now let’s go inside.”

Shannon moved away from his outstretched hand. “Why?”

“You’re in no shape to drive into town, and it’s too dangerous for you to sleep in the car.”

“Not good enough. You’ve made it painfully obvious that you don’t trust me or want me as a partner.”

“That’s right, I don’t.” Surprise widened her eyes.
“But regardless of how I feel about you personally, I’d be less than a man if I didn’t offer you a place to spend the night.”

She folded her arms. “I’m not giving up my claim to the land.”

“I didn’t think you were and, for the record, I still plan to fight you, but not tonight, not when you’re about to collapse.”