Matchmakers Box Set: Matchmakers, Encore, Finding Hope (51 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

Trevor watched Hope as she picked through the papers. This was only a quarter of the information that he’d pulled together from his findings on Mandy Marlow. It had taken him two days to shuffle through his own paperwork to find part of what she was looking for. He’d wanted to give her a profile of a woman she wouldn’t want to find. If Hope saw the worst of Mandy Marlow first, maybe she’d decide to forget finding out about her altogether.

“This doesn’t paint a very pretty picture, does it?” Hope held up a mug shot of her birth mother. Her face was swollen and bruised, and the information that followed said she’d been in a fight at a bar.

Trevor looked at the picture she held. He had wanted to show her the negative first with hopes she would abandon the thought of digging up more information. “The dates indicate she must have been about thirty there.”

“She was only thirty-four when I was born. My dad said she was clean when she was pregnant with me.”

Trevor shrugged. He didn’t have those answers. Not yet.

Hope sifted through pictures in the pile. They were copies of what Trevor had in his file.

“I’ve only seen pictures of her a few times. My dad once said I looked just like her, but I don’t see it.”

Trevor looked at the picture and then at Hope. “No, you don’t look like that woman at all, but your dad obviously saw her differently once.”

“I don’t think so. All I know is they had this brief affair. She was young and he was stupid, he said.” She laughed. “When you meet my dad you’ll laugh too. He’s such a wise man, I don’t know how he ever got involved with someone like Mandy Marlow.”

“Men as a rule aren’t very bright,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t realize he fit into that category.

“Some of you seem okay.”

His heart slammed into his ribs and he had to rub his chest to keep it from bursting through. How was he going to help her with this, knowing that in the end she’d just hate him for keeping secrets?

“What has your dad told you about her?”

Hope sat back in her chair. “I’ve never done too much asking. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. But they never kept my adoption secret.” She leaned forward again, her arms rested on the table. Her eyes went soft and a soft smile formed on her lips. “My mother has a plaque on her wall that has a poem about adoption. I asked when I was little what it meant and she told me that someone else had given Carissa and me to her to be her very own. She was so gracious, and it must have hurt like hell to have me ask.” Hope reached for Trevor’s hand and interlaced their fingers. “My mom couldn’t have her own children. She’d been in a car accident when she was just a little girl. Her parents died in the accident and she was left with scars and injuries. One of those injuries made her barren.”

“She sounds like quite a woman.”

“She is. She’s a survivor.” Hope’s eyes misted. “I know it couldn’t have been easy. She’d left my dad before they were married because of Carissa. She thought my dad purposely didn’t tell her he had a child. Truth was, he didn’t know Carissa existed. He thought he’d left Mandy and moved on with his life. Then my sister showed up at their door, said, ‘I’m your daughter,’ and my mom left.”

Hope ran her hands through the papers on the table again, spreading them out, glancing over them. “Mom had a wonderful career as a concert cellist in Europe, but when she finally came back ten years later, she learned the truth. She and Carissa fell in love and so did she and dad. Then Mandy showed back up.

“Every time she’d gotten close to marrying my dad, Mandy always showed back up.”

“This time with another baby,” he said on a sigh as if he realized what an amazing man David Kendal was for taking Hope and giving her a home.

“Oh, and not just a baby, no, she’s going to die too.” Hope shook her head, her blonde curls swayed over her shoulders. “I was in the NICU for three weeks when I was born.”

“NICU?”

“Neonatal intensive care unit.” She shifted her eyes to him. “Mandy died as I was being born.”

“Hope…”

“I’m not sad. I’m grateful.” She laughed. “That sounds bad. I’m not grateful that she died. I’m grateful that for once in her short, miserable life, she made a wise decision. She gave me to a woman who wanted a baby and loved me so much. She gave me to my father, who is simply the most amazing man to walk the earth. Then she gave me my biological sister. What a gift.”

Trevor reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “So why do this, then? Why dig up what you know will be hurtful to you?” He picked up the mug shot and looked it over. “Hope, this is bound to only get worse.”

“I’m strong enough to know I’m a Kendal, not a Marlow. You will never see me in a mug shot like this.” She took the photo from him, looked it over, and then tossed it back on the pile. “I am an artist. I am a business owner,” she said, swinging her arms through the air to emphasize what she’d built. “I’m more than Mandy Marlow’s discarded daughter.”

“You’re amazing.”

“Thank you. And thank you for doing this. Just tell me what I owe you and we’ll settle up.”

“I think you owe me a dinner that you’ll eat.” He touched her cheek and she smiled.

“Okay. I’ll even cook. No expense out of your pocket.”

“Sounds great.”

“Let me find a pen and I’ll write down my address. I close at six thirty. Don’t even think about showing up until about eight. I’ll need that much time. I’m not a good cook.”

“So is this some kind of punishment?”

“You can be the judge of that.”

“I can’t wait,” he said as he leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips.

Later when he drove away from her shop he wondered if he’d been successful in letting her see the dark side of Mandy Marlow. Would she pore over the pictures and papers and realize it wasn’t worth pursuing further? For the moment he hoped she’d hold off, at least until Donald Buchanan came forward.

Trevor sat in his car outside of Hope’s apartment. This time it was different. He’d be walking through the door as a welcomed guest.

He opened the mirror on the visor and checked his face. Suddenly he was afraid he’d missed a spot when shaving. He’d applied the same cologne he wore every day, but now he wondered if he’d used too much. He fixed the one hair that seemed out of place, which was hard when he had such short hair.

Next to him was a bouquet of daisies. He’d snuck into the music school and asked Thomas what he should buy her. He had been assured that all of the Kendal women adored daisies as far back as Sophia’s grandmother and David’s aunt.

He checked his watch. “Eight o’clock on the dot,” he assured himself as he reached for the flowers, climbed from the car, and walked across the street.

As he placed his finger on the doorbell, the door flew open.

“You are worse than a woman. Do you know that?” Hope wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“Were you watching me?”

“You pulled up at seven forty-six. You fixed your hair in the mirror, messed with the buttons on the radio, sniffed the front of your shirt,” she said with a laugh. “Then finally after checking your watch you made your appearance.”

“I didn’t know I was a show.” He swallowed the lump of guilt and fear that had bundled themselves in his throat.

He’d watched Hope, much like she’d watched him. Intimate details, much like the ones she’d given him, had been written down in a notebook. It was an uncomfortable feeling to be faced with it. But he had to remind himself it was his job. How would she see it though, he wondered.

She kissed him again. “I enjoyed it.”

Hope stepped back and he handed her the daisies. “I have it on good authority you like daisies.”

“Thomas?”

“Guilty,” he confessed.

“You went out of your way, didn’t you?” She studied him, and his stomach clenched. He didn’t want to lose what they were building.

“I’m still working on impressing you.”

“It worked.” She pulled him into the apartment, kicked close the door, and pulled him to her, disorienting him with sweet taste of her mouth on his.

His hands settled on her hips and moved her toward the wall. Without leaving her mouth, he took the flowers from her hand and laid them on the table next to them. Her arms lifted around his neck and he nudged his hips against hers, deepening the kiss.

As her tongue met his, he wrestled with his conscience. He should come clean. He should tell her he’d followed her and that he knew all about her. Most of all, he should tell her he knew where to find her father and her mother’s family.

He pulled back and rested his head against her shoulder. Her fingers moved over his hair as she caught her breath beneath him. His fingers pressed into her hips as he fought for control over his body.

“We’d better stop. Too much more of this and you’ll hate me.”

She threw back her head and let out a throaty laugh that ignited the heat in his body again and made it hard to not press his body against her more.

“I could never hate you.” Her voice was thick and unsteady as she raised her hands to his chest and gripped the front of his shirt.

“Hope.” He pulled back to look her in the eye. “You’re in charge in this department. I don’t think I’ve hidden my desire for you all that well.” He let out a laugh, and the sultry look in her eyes told him she was aware of it too. “But I don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to do. So, with that said, I hope this continues.”

Hope blew out a breath. “You sure are a gentleman, aren’t you?”

A gentleman wouldn’t keep secrets from the woman who was squeezing his heart.

“I told you, my mother raised me that way.” And sometimes it was the very thought of facing the wrath of Violet Jacobs that made him take his lips off a beautiful woman and wait—patiently.

“Remind me to thank her when we see her in August.” She picked up the flowers and started toward the kitchen.

He caught her arm. “You’ll go?”

She laid her hand on his chest. “You asked me, didn’t you?”

“Well, maybe this will continue in the right direction,” he said with a wink as she turned from him and walked back to the kitchen.

“Is that the car you’ve been driving the whole time?” she asked as he followed her. She pulled a vase from a cabinet and filled it with water.

“Yeah, why?” His voice shook. He hoped she didn’t notice.

“I swear there was one like that parked out front on my birthday. It was there for an hour, but was gone when I came home from my sister’s.”

“Birthday?”

“The day I met you.” She turned and gave him a smile. “Best present I’ve gotten in years.”

He swallowed hard. She’d seen him. Damn! “Happy birthday.” He walked up behind her and placed a kiss on her neck.

“Let’s keep that for after dinner, shall we,” she said breathlessly. “Help me set the table. Dishes are in that cupboard.”

Trevor climbed into bed and adjusted the pillows and blankets to make himself comfortable. It wasn’t happening.

He’d made sure to keep his manners intact. He had helped her set the table and clear it when dinner was finished. He dried dishes after she washed them and helped her from her seat on the patio where they had ended up after dessert. Then after a long, deep, and passionate kiss, he’d said good night. He hadn’t wanted to leave, but he knew it was in the best interest for all parties.

Donald Buchanan had told him to get to know her, but he hadn’t told her to take her to bed. Likewise, Hope was now a client. Business and pleasure were like oil and water. They didn’t mix. If you tried, you usually made a mess. But he couldn’t help but want to take that relationship between them further. He was willing to throw away the hefty fee that Donald Buchanan had already paid just to be with Hope. And he didn’t want to be with her for just a tumble between the sheets. No, there was something more there he wanted to explore. But she was surely going to hate him when she found out why he’d happened upon her at the cemetery. The night was long. He tossed and turned. He’d given her a few leads as to who Mandy Marlow was, but that wasn’t going to hold her off until Donald Buchanan decided to come forward. He didn’t want her to accidently stumble into Donald Buchanan’s wife either. He was walking a tightrope and he knew it. The only answer was to steer her toward the answers she wanted—and remain close enough to protect her.

She’d mentioned that she’d open the store on Saturday at ten and closed by two. He’d be waiting for her with a box of pastries and coffee. Maybe she’d allow him to spend the day with her in her element.

A smile crossed his lips. It was crazy. How could he have let an assignment become so personal? Then the reality kicked in. Eventually he’d have to leave Kansas City and return to New York. He still had a job there. An apartment he was paying for and a roommate who’d called three days ago looking for him.

It would be easy enough to liquidate it all and relocate to Kansas City. He laughed and ran his hands over his hair. Now he knew he’d lost his mind. He’d met Hope Kendal six days earlier and now he was willing to give up all he’d worked for? Then he thought about what she wanted. Essentially, she’d hired him to help her find her birth parents. There was reason to stick around awhile longer.

He blew out a breath. It would all come together. It was just another puzzle and as an investigator, he was the right man to put that puzzle together.

Trevor watched Hope work from the front window of her store. She was helping a customer at the counter, and three others walked through looking at gifts. She caught sight of him and smiled. When he dangled the bag of pastries and held up the tray of coffee, her eyes lit. She pointed to the back of the store and Trevor let himself into the store and walked directly back to the small room with the table while she finished her sale.

It was fifteen minutes and two pastries later that she finally ducked her head into the back room. She didn’t say a word to him. Instead she cupped his face in her hands and laid a gentle, warm kiss on his lips.