The Rags-To-Riches Wife. Metsy Hingle
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His father nodded. “I better go find your mother.”
“And I need to get back to the office.”
“Make sure you call your mother and tell her something nice about that quiche.”
“I will,” Jack promised and as his father went in search of his mother, he headed for the door. In the foyer, he retrieved his gray raincoat from the closet and stepped outside onto the veranda.
The rain that had threatened earlier was now coming down steadily. Too bad his umbrella was sitting in the car, he thought, as he slipped on his raincoat. After turning up the collar, he slipped his hands into the pockets and his fingers brushed a piece of paper. Frowning, Jack pulled out a buff-colored sheet of paper that had been folded in half. He unfolded it and began to read the unsigned message typed in large bold letters:
WHAT WOULD THE GOOD CITIZENS OF EASTWICK THINK IF THEY FOUND OUT THAT THEIR CANDIDATE FOR THE SENATE WAS ABOUT TO BECOME AN UNWED FATHER?
UNLESS YOU WANT EVERYONE TO KNOW YOUR DIRTY LITTLE SECRET, YOU’LL PLACE $50,000 IN SMALL BILLS IN A SHOPPING BAG AND LEAVE IT IN EASTWICK PARK UNDER THE BENCH ACROSS FROM THE FOUNTAIN BY NOON TOMORROW. IF YOU FAIL TO DELIVER THE MONEY OR NOTIFY THE AUTHORITIES, YOU CAN FORGET THE SENATE NOMINATION.
Two
Stunned, Jack didn’t notice that the rain was coming down harder. He didn’t notice that the pink-and-white blossoms from the mountain laurels lay scattered beneath the shrubs or that the branches of the white oak bowed beneath the weight of the downpour. He didn’t even notice that on the other side of the door was a house filled with people. His entire focus was on the note he held in his hands. He reread it, and, as he did so, shock gave way to anger.
He was being blackmailed!
Or at least that’s what the person who’d written the note had intended. Turning the sheet of paper over, he studied it, looked for something that might indicate who the author was. But he found nothing.
It didn’t matter who had written it, he told himself as he crushed the note in his fist. Whoever had done so had made two very big mistakes. The first mistake was thinking that he would ever succumb to extortion and the second mistake was the allegation itself. The charge was flat-out ridiculous. He hadn’t fathered any child and no one was expecting his baby. Aside from the fact that he wasn’t involved with anyone, he hadn’t even been with a woman since last year. Not since…Jack went still.
Not since the night of the black-and-white ball.
Suddenly, images flashed through his mind. Images of a moonlit room, of a woman with silken skin and ghost-blue eyes.
Was it possible? Could she be pregnant?
No. She couldn’t be. They might not have known one another and, granted, the sex had been explosive, but at least they’d had the good sense to use protection. Then he remembered that last time they’d made love….
“You have the softest skin,” Jack whispered as he lay in the bed beside her. He drew his finger down her back. She felt like satin—only warmer and with the faint scent of roses and something else. It was a scent he could easily get used to, wanted to get used to, he realized. But they had agreed at the outset that what happened between them tonight ended tonight. The masks they’d worn at the ball had made the evening both intriguing and exciting. They were strangers. Yet the physical attraction had been palpable. He still couldn’t believe he’d given her his room key—or that she’d come. Her insistence that they not reveal their identities had seemed like a good idea at the time. There had been something dangerous and appealing about not knowing who the woman was behind the mask. Only now, he wasn’t sure he should have agreed because the more time he spent with her, the more sure he was that he didn’t want things between them to end. He pressed a kiss to her spine and when she shivered, he asked, “Ticklish?”
“No,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper.
He slid his arm around her waist and drew her body closer, fitting her against him. No, he definitely didn’t want tonight to be the end. Easing the sheet down, he kissed her bare shoulder and, when she trembled, desire stirred inside him again. It had only been an hour since he’d last made love to her. And already, he wanted her again. But this time, he wanted more than just her body. He wanted her. “I know we agreed not to exchange information, but maybe we should rethink that.”
“No,” she said, her body tensing.
“Why not?”
“Because it would mean going back to the real world. And I don’t want to go back to that world. At least not tonight. Tonight I don’t want to think of anything outside this room.”
Moved by the desperation in her voice, he turned her over so that he could see her face. He trailed a finger along her cheek, saw something haunted in those blue eyes. “All right. Tonight there is no world outside this room,” he told her. “But at least tell me your name. I can’t keep calling you Red.”
“I like you calling me Red,” she told him. “No one’s ever called me that before.”
“But I—”
She sat up and pushed him back onto the bed. “Shh. No more talking,” she told him and then she took the lead. She kissed him on the mouth, deeply, thoroughly. Then that hot, moist mouth of hers moved south. She kissed his neck, his chest, and moved lower. When she pressed her lips to his belly, his gut tightened. He reached for her.
Wondering what spell this siren had cast on him, Jack took her mouth, explored her body as she had explored his. Never in his life had he wanted a woman this way, a want that felt dangerously close to need. When he could stand it no longer, he reached over to the nightstand for the condom.
“No, let me,” she said, her voice breathless. She ripped the foil package open with her teeth, sending desire slicing through him again. He lay back against the pillow and watched her as she slowly eased the condom over the length of him. The sensation was exquisite. So was the look of wonder on her face. He’d known she’d had little experience the first time they’d made love. There had been an innocence and an abandon in her response that had told him this night was something as out of the ordinary for her as it was for him. For a moment, he wondered why she had come to his room. What was it in that real world that she’d wanted to escape?
And then he couldn’t think anymore because she was lowering herself onto him. Jack caught her hips, let her set the tempo. She moved back and forth, back and forth, increasing the pace with each movement.
“I…I can’t,” she gasped.
“Yes, you can,” he urged, holding back his own pleasure, wanting to give her more. She gasped again and when the orgasm hit her, her muscles contracted around him. With each sound she made, each movement, he felt his own climax growing closer. When he could wait no longer, Jack flipped her over onto her back and buried himself in her once more.
And then the condom broke.
“Cartwright? Cartwright, are you all right?”
Jack reeled himself back to the present and found Luke Talbot standing in front of him, eyeing him skeptically. Shaking off the memory, he shoved the crumpled blackmail note into the pocket of his raincoat. “I thought I’d wait for this rain to slack up some before I made a run for it,” he explained.
“I just came out to get some air,” Talbot told him.
But given the look of annoyance on the other man’s face, Jack wondered if that was the truth. He sized Talbot up, estimating him to measure an inch or so below his own six feet two inches. The man had what his football coach in college would have called a wiry build, but there was no mistaking that he kept himself fit. There was nothing remarkable about the brown hair and eyes, but the man always seemed to be watching. Just as he was watching him now. “I spoke with Abby earlier, but I didn’t get to tell you how sorry I am about your mother-in-law.”
“Thanks.