CHAPTER TWO

      MATT SLIPPED INTO his jacket on the way to answer the doorbell again. He paused to look in the mirror and straighten his tie before sweeping the door open with a bow. “Good evening, madame.”

      Jessica breezed through the doorway, a sensual aroma swirling in her wake. With her coppery hair pinned up, the diamond earrings she wore dangled against her bare neck. His gaze traveled the length of the red dress that fit perfectly. He’d never seen this one before. “Wow! You look gorgeous. I’ll have to fight the single men off tonight.”

      For half a second, he considered proposing right then and there. But no, he wanted to do it right and speak with her father first.

      She slipped her left leg through the slit. “So you like it?”

      “Hmmm,” he said and pulled her to him.

      Jessica pressed her lips against Matt’s, making his toes curl inside his Oxfords. When they parted he trailed his finger along her jaw. “So why didn’t you let me pick you up like we planned?”

      “I forgot to get my mail from the box, and when I ran down to get it, there was a young mother with her baby outside the door. Found out she was waiting for a cab to come by.” The green flecks in her hazel eyes darkened. “It’s New Year’s Eve. She probably would have still been waiting if I hadn’t offered to give her a ride. After I found her destination was near your apartment, I went to plan B. And here I am.”

      Knowing Jessica, it wouldn’t have mattered if the young woman needed to go clear across town.

      “Who was your blond visitor?”

      He blanked for a second. “Visitor?”

      “The elevator. While I was waiting for it, I noticed someone came down from this floor. Female, blond, black dress? Hello?”

      “Oh, that was Clint’s sister, delivering my tux.”

      She glanced toward the door. “That was Clint’s sister? She looks nothing like the girl in your photo album.”

      “She, um, lost a little weight.”

      “That’s putting it mildly. Do you suppose she’ll be at the party with Clint?”

      “Clint’s coming to the party?” Oh, wait, Clint had mentioned a party. Matt just didn’t realize it was this party. His mind had been on Bradford.

      “You never listen to me.” Jessica punched him lightly on the shoulder. She glanced at the mirror and tucked a copper curl that had escaped the clasp back into place. “I told you last week I invited him, told him to bring guests if he wanted to. The more the merrier. Is my hair spray still here? This twig is driving me crazy.”

      “Top shelf in the bathroom.” Thank goodness he’d rehung the towel.

      “Oh, good.” She held up her finger. “Won’t take me but a sec.”

      Why hadn’t Allie mentioned she’d be at the party? Why hadn’t Clint, for that matter? Matt’s stomach gulped at the thought of seeing Allie again. He’d seen the disapproval in her eyes when Mariah’s name came up. And the kid...what was his name? Noah. Just what did Allie expect him to do? Take the two of them in? He pressed his lips together. Mariah had made her choices long ago, and he’d tried to help her then. He wasn’t sure bailing her out now was the right answer. Matt checked his own hair in the mirror and frowned. Maybe a squirt of that hair spray would help his cowlick. He started into his bedroom and braked at the door as his heart crashed against his chest. He’d forgotten to put away his grandmother’s rings, and Jessica had found them. She stood with her back to him, holding them up to the light, and once more he was tempted. No. He had it all planned for tomorrow. He stepped back into the living room and cleared his throat. “Are you finished? I need to get in there.”

      “Coming,” Jessica answered.

      “Oh, and by the way,” Matt called, “Phillip Bradford wants to meet with me tomorrow morning at nine. Shouldn’t take long. What do you say I pick you up at eleven?”

      “You hadn’t planned anything earlier, had you? I won’t be up until ten at the earliest.”

      Check mark. That problem solved itself. A minute later she hurried back into the room. He examined her face, but it didn’t give him a single clue as to how she felt about the rings.

      “I forgot to tell you...Daddy wants us there early.” She tapped her watch. “Like five minutes ago.”

      “And you’re just now telling me?” He shook his head. “Let me put my cuff links in, and we’ll go.”

      In the bedroom, he glanced at the ring box and smiled. Jessica wasn’t giving anything away. The box was closed, and exactly where he’d left it. Now if he could just corner Mr. Winthrop before his nerves got the best of him.

      What if Winthrop thought Matt was crazy, asking for Jessica’s hand? Or he thought it was too old-fashioned. Matt hadn’t considered that. He fumbled with the cuff link as the stud hung in the material. Winthrop seemed to like him, but what if he’d misread her father? No, Winthrop liked him. Matt manhandled the stud through the buttonholes and straightened the cuffs.

      Tonight he’d ask the father, tomorrow the daughter.

      * * *

      WHEN THEY ARRIVED, the party in the Savannah Room rocked the walls. Glittering gold letters proclaimed Happy New Year from the ceiling as music flowed from the string ensemble, providing the backdrop for dancing or mingling. Already the party was a success. Before Matt had even had time to mix with the crowd, Mr. Winthrop pulled him aside.

      “Matthew. I’d like to speak privately with you. This way.”

      Matt followed the older man to a side room, feeling much like he did as a kid when his dad led him to the woodshed. Only expensive walnut paneling lined this woodshed, along with carpet deep enough to sink his feet into.

      “Cigar?” Winthrop picked one then offered Matt the box

      An Ashton Cabinet. He hesitated. What if Winthrop expected him to light up? The thought almost made him green. But offending the man would be worse, and he took one from the middle.

      “The Ashton Cabinet is a mild but subtly complex cigar,” Winthrop said as he clipped the end off and handed Matt the cutter. “I think you will enjoy it.”

      Matt swallowed and copied the older man’s actions, then waited as Winthrop lit his cigar. Oh, cool. A lighter with a double flame.

      Winthrop rotated the cigar under the fire. “The secret, Matt, is to toast the end, not burn it.” He puffed on the fat roll of tobacco then blew on the end.

      Once again, Matt copied Winthrop. On his third puff, queasiness rolled in his stomach, and he clamped his mouth shut. It was awfully hot in the room, and he adjusted his collar. What did Winthrop just say? “Sir? I didn’t quite catch that.”

      Winthrop pointed to a pair of wingback chairs and a small table in the corner. “I asked if you’d like to sit.”

      Thank goodness. After they were seated, a heavy silence surrounded them.