Caught Between a Lie and True Love (Caught Between series Book 1) (5 page)

He glanced back over his shoulder, concern for her instantly filtering through his warm gaze as he slowed his footsteps and sent her an apologetic lopsided grin that did something funny to the pitter patter of her heart. Then his smokey hot gaze went down her body to her feet in those heels, and he stopped and pulled her hard against his body.

Oh my
.

Mama had never told her that being naughty could be so fine. In fact, being naughty had been so forbidden, there were still tiny areas of her life where she hadn’t quite stepped over the line. But she was working on it. She might be pushing the upper limits of her middle age, but she was still woman enough to appreciate a man’s body sinking into hers.

“Geez, Mattie,” he started out with a soft laugh that he ended up sharing with her as he bent his head and claimed her mouth for a kiss that left her even more breathless than the fast walk down the alley.

When he came up for air, she had her arms looped around his neck, could feel the hard ridge of his desire against her belly, could feel her own body respond in a liquid rush of joy. Okay, maybe the discussion about Hope could wait until after they made love because it was sure to ruin the romantic mood.

A rustle in the bushes caught her attention and she huddled against him to hide. “Did you hear that?” she whispered against his neck while she peered into the darkness.

His arms tightened around her. “What?”

A rabbit bounced out of the bushes and relief shot through Matilda. She was always so very careful to never get caught. Sleeping with Harry without the bonds of matrimony would ruin her pristine reputation.

She gave a soft laugh and smiled up at him. “Never mind. Harry, take me home and take me to bed.”

Again he laughed softly, then scooped her into his arms and continued at a faster pace than before because he no longer had to bother shortening his stride to match hers. “Hold that thought, honey.”

And then he slipped through the gate into his own yard, where in the moonlit darkness she could make out the hibiscus lining the side of the house and the pink roses climbing the archway connecting the back yard to the front.

Matilda realized that they’d never made love in his house and for a moment her insides stilled.
This is it. A big step for him. An even bigger step for me
.

But he strode past the back door, along the side of the house to the front yard, and stopped by the huge motorhome that was parked on the street.

He set her down on her four-inch heels and as those delicate crimson heels sunk into the lawn, he reached into his pocket and brought out a ring of keys to unlock the door.

And the entire time she stood frozen and wondered
what the blazes
?

“I finally did it, honey.” He swung open the door and urged her inside, closing the door quickly behind him before the chill of the night air could follow them in. He clicked on a light and waved one hand to encompass the huge area. “It’s bought and paid for, so we won’t have any extra expenses. Gas, groceries, and fun money is all we need to worry about.”

“What?” was all she managed to croak out because the stupid corset was squeezing the breath from her lungs almost as much as the confusion over where he was going with this.

He turned to face her, reached into his pocket as he dropped to one knee on the floor in front of her, and she couldn’t help but back up a step. For the first time, she noticed the adoration shining in his gaze and she wondered when had that happened? And why hadn’t she paid more attention so she could stop those feelings before they developed?

“Mattie, honey, marry me. I’m tired of hiding from the neighbors. Of sneaking over to your house after dark like a sixteen-year-old kid, then sneaking out before the sun rises. For Pete’s sake, I can’t even look at you in public for fear I’ll give myself away. Mattie, honey, come out of the closet and marry me.” He looked up at her with his beautiful eyes full of emotion, took her hand in his, and gently slipped the ring on her finger, scaring the bejeezus right out of her with this simple romantic gesture.

Even if it was a much better proposal than her first. Still, she’d accepted that one. But she wasn’t a stupid naive girl anymore.

She tugged her hand free, looked down at the huge sparkly rock he’d put on her finger, and let out a nervous laugh. “Don’t be an old fool, Harry.”

His dark brows lowered. “I’m sixty-six years old, Mattie, not ninety-two and senile.”

She backed up a step, teetering on the edge of the steps they’d just ascended, and steadied her balance. “Get off your knees, Harry, and quit making an ass of yourself.”

In one swift move, he came to his feet. Even with her spiked heels, he towered over her and made her feel tiny and delicate and sexier than she’d ever felt as a twenty-one year old newlywed. Except the sexy part was quickly fading in the trepidation overcoming her. “Damn it, Harry, why spoil what we have?”

“We’re not spoiling it. We’re making it better.” He captured both her hands in his and leaned so close, all she could see was his beautiful eyes shining in the light of the moon streaming through the side windows. “Mattie, I adore you. I’ve adored you since the third grade and you still married that jackass Herbert. Well, he’s dead now and it’s my turn.”

“Harry, I’m not one of your groupies that you can just order around.”

His voice softened. “No, you’re a flesh and blood woman. I want to have the right to hold you in my arms in public. I’m ready to retire and you don’t have to work so hard anymore. I can take care of you. We’ll travel the Mainland and grow old together, and spend the next thirty or so years living in each other’s back pocket.”

Matilda felt her soul shrivel up.

Even though her late husband had been dead and buried for five years now, it seemed like she’d just escaped the shackles of one man. She snatched her hands out of his, tugged the ring off her finger, shoved it into his shirt pocket, ignored the warmth of his skin and said, “No.”

His happy smile turned into a glower. “Why the hell not?”

Could she really let him go? She squeezed his fingers and moved a step closer into his body heat. “Harry, I nominated you for Mayor today. You’ll make a wonderful Mayor. Handsome, distinguished, revered by all.”

He took a step back and pulled his hand from hers. “You shouldn’t have done that without talking to me first, Mattie. I’m leaving, and nothing is going to change my mind. Why would you do such a thing?”

Hope and desire shriveled up inside of her. With a frustrated huff, she planted her fists on her hips. “I thought you were different, Harry, but you don’t listen to me any more than Herbert did. I’ve told you repeatedly, after I get custody of Hope, I won’t be able to travel.”

The Judge shook his head. “You’re too old to be shackled to a teenager.”

“Too old?” Matilda stared at him. Sometimes men could be idiots and right this very second, Harry was the biggest idiot of them all.

He captured one of her hands in both of his and pressed it against his heart, the anger in his gaze evaporating, only to be replaced with something softer, more desperate. “You have to choose between Hope and me. You can’t have us both.”

But the look in his eyes suggested he already knew what her answer would be.

She tugged her hand free, stuck it behind her back and found the doorknob, giving it a twist, then a shove, and let the fresh evening air cool her off. “We’re done, Harry. Over. Complete. Totally finished. When you come to your senses and accept that one day Hope will be mine, we can resume our Tuesday and Thursday night ritual. But until then, I don’t want you to speak to me.”

Matilda descended the steps of the gigantic motorhome with as much dignity as she could, despite the four inch heels that didn’t belong anywhere near a vehicle that took its occupants to a campground. No, indeed, not for her, she seethed with a shudder. If there was one thing she disliked, it was spiders and mosquitoes and the heavy smell of a campfire lit in the campground next door.

She stomped off.

Part way home, she had to stop and yank off the hellish heels, before she proceeded to storm the rest of the way home in her nylon covered feet. Until a loose rock on the sidewalk stabbed the underside of her foot. She huffed out an angry swear word her mother had never allowed her to use and limped the rest of the way.

Too old to raise a teenager
.

The damn man wanted to marry her and he didn’t know a damn thing about her.

Men were pigs. She’d realized that the moment she’d said
I do
to her first husband which he’d somehow translated into a belief that he owned her. And even though she’d thought Harry would be different, he wasn’t.

As she slipped in and out of the shadows, finally closing herself inside her dark house, she threw the new shoes into the back of the closet.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Now, if only she could forget the thrill of Harry in her arms with the same ease.

Matilda resisted the urge to grab the chocolate fudge out of the freezer and inhale it, instead taking her frustration out with a forty minute walk on the treadmill.

No matter how much she might miss that old fool, she could get by without the inconvenience of those Tuesday and Thursday nights. All that prep took up too much of her valuable time anyway—time better spent coming up with new strategies to destroy the evil man who had her granddaughter.

Harry, the old fool, wasn’t worth another second of her time—time she’d wasted soaking and shaving and lathering her body in an attempt to hide the fact that she wasn’t young and fresh anymore.

All she had to do was remember that Harry wasn’t the only fish in the sea.

She could find someone else to run for Mayor.

She could take care of her Tuesday and Thursday night releases on her own.

And if not, there were other men who would do the dirty deed.

CHAPTER SIX

Paige spent the evening getting settled, tip-toeing around Gram, being careful not to step on the elderly woman’s tender sensibilities. Except there was nothing tender about the old woman at all, especially when she turned off the lights at eight-thirty and like a military commander, ordered them all off to bed.

Without a word, Starr stomped up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door. Paige followed her up, then spent the next several hours sitting in the dark on the old armchair by the bedroom window, watching for her dad’s return.

He never showed, which gave her plenty of time to get distracted by the shadows moving around the house next door. And when a door opened in the bedroom across the way, and the hallway light illuminated the tall manly form entering the room, Paige shrank into the armchair so Brody couldn’t see her.

In the semi-darkness, she watched him tug the t-shirt over his head, revealing six-pack abs and the hard body of an athlete. A moment later, he reached for the zipper of his jeans, and she caught her breath, anticipation heightened by the memory of all the times she’d sat in this exact same spot, and drooled over his drool-worthy body.

The crush she’d long forgotten in the busyness of her life returned with the force of a hurricane, heating her body and wakening her lady parts with a powerful urge to climb out the window, sneak across the driveway, and join Brody in his bed.

Instead, she ran one hand down her chest, across her breast, to her stomach, fantasizing that it was Brody’s large hand. Her body pulsed, eager to be appeased by the hard length of his body pressed against her, pressing into her—

That’s when she noticed that he’d moved to the window, and she froze. Could he see her? She didn’t think so, but she wasn’t taking any chances by moving even an inch.

For endless seconds, Brody stood there in his boxers, staring across the distance a
her
bedroom window. And as he turned away, right before he disappeared into the blackness of the night, she saw his hand go for his crotch.

She leaned forward, collapsing over her lap, and covered her face with her hands. She would never be able to look at him again without remembering the trajectory of his hand, and the way her own body reacted in a rush of liquid joy. Heck, she might never be able to close her eyes again without imagining him in all his naked glory.

In an attempt to cool off her body and mind, she breathed deep and steady, in and out, and forced herself to refocus on the reason she’d returned to Serendipity Island.

Jeb Calhoun was the ultimate conman, a regular shyster without a conscious, a man accustomed to shifting the blame for his nefarious schemes onto whatever unfortunate sucker happened to be standing next to him at the time.

This time, he’d brought his work to the one place he could do the most damage. Right into Gram’s backyard.

Whatever he was up to, she thought as she finally regained her cool objectivity and crawled into bed, he had to be stopped.

And she was the only one who could do it, because he’d taught her every trick in the conman’s book.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next morning, Paige woke with a start and pried open her eyes. Before she could scream, the man standing above her clapped one hand over her mouth and leaned in close.

“Ssshhh, Buttercup. You don’t want to wake the neighborhood, do you?”

“Holy cow, Dad,” she growled as she pushed his hand away from her mouth and scrambled to sit up. “You scared the bejeezus out of me. Where have you been? Why are you here? What are you up to?”

He smiled, that warm and fatherly smile he’d used to placate her when she was young and in his care. When she had worshipped him like he was king of everything and she was his loyal subject.

Until everything went bad and he’d betrayed her.

“Paige, darlin’,” he began and loosened the knot on his tie.

He was cold, calculated, and she no longer believed a single word that came out of his mouth. “Don’t darlin’ me, Dad. I’m not one of your pigeons.”

Something in his expression morphed into melancholy, and he crossed the room to the window and poked aside the drapes. “Can’t a man take a moment to rest and regroup?”

As Paige watched her dad gaze out the window, she couldn’t help but notice that he looked old and worn and tired. Despite her determination to stay far away from him, her guilt barometer spiked. “Dad—”