The Secret Agent's Surprises (Harlequin American Romance) (8 page)

“That would be great. Give me something to carry.”

Priscilla locked up, turned out all the lights
except for a small lamp she always left burning, and handed Pete a tray with a teapot and cookies on a plate. “There’s more in the house if we decide we have an appetite.”

“Mmm,” Pete said. “When I was a kid, we used to sneak our grilled cheese sandwiches and milk outside to eat. We weren’t supposed to—Mom was afraid we’d get our food dirty—but she couldn’t be mad at us because we loved picnicking so much. This feels like a picnic.”

“Did you get your food dirty? Was Mom right?” Priscilla asked, leading him through the door that adjoined her residence to the tea shop. “Little boys probably spill milk and drop food easily.”

“We had a five-second rule for dropped sandwiches, but hungry boys eat pretty quick. Over time, Mom got tired of worrying about dirt and kept a picnic blanket in the kitchen pantry we could grab if we wanted it.” He grinned as he followed her. “It was plastic and durable. That red-checked thing is probably still around the house somewhere.”

They went to the kitchen so Priscilla could set the teapot on a warmer. Each of them took a white-painted chair at the table. Priscilla smiled at him. “So I’m dying to hear your news.”

“This isn’t really news,” Pete said slowly, and she saw his face tense. “This is gossip. I can’t reveal the source, but it bothered me enough to come ask you in person.”

Her heart began beating more quickly. “Gossip about me?”

He nodded. “I want to help you, if you need help.”

Her eyes went wide; her pounding heart seemed to hesitate. Surely he didn’t know already about her family’s financial problems. She needed a few days to process the information, knowing it would soon be in the paper for everyone to see. She needed to get the face she’d present to the world ready. “I’m fine, Pete. Whatever you’ve heard, I assure you I’m fine.” She
was
going to be fine, no matter what.

He took a deep breath. “I really don’t know a good way to say this. Please forgive me if I’m not as smooth as I could be. I’ve been a loner for so long that I’m not good at casual chatter. But a reliable source says your parents are—”

She jumped to her feet. She couldn’t help herself—it was a reflex she had no control over. “My parents are just fine,” she told him emphatically.

He looked at her, and his deep blue eyes held concern and sympathy, the same eyes she’d once thought glacial and hard. He didn’t say another word. He probably didn’t have to, given her abrupt denial.

Priscilla sat back down with a humiliated sigh. “Talk about an overreaction…”

Pete smiled. “I have lots of those, too.”

“No, you don’t. You’re always cool and in control.”

“Is that what you see? It’s not the way my stomach feels.” He winked at her. “On the other hand, I’m tough. Strong. Manly.”

He pulled the smile from her he wanted. “Okay, tough guy. Go on with the story.”

His hesitation was prolonged, and she couldn’t blame him for not wanting to bring up the topic again. “There was some talk that your parents are in a tight spot.”

“They are.” It was probably best to just admit what he already knew and adopt the brave face he wore. He was right—the butterflies in her tummy remained despite the facade, but she preferred the direct approach rather than being the scared bunny she felt like.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she said quickly. “The Perkinses are tough. We’ll recreate ourselves. It will be a bit harder this time, maybe, but my family is resilient.”

“Good girl.” His gaze held admiration. “Is there anything I can do to help? I know a little something about needing to recreate one’s self, tough times, brave faces and all that.”

“You can tell me who told you,” she said. “It’s not supposed to be in the paper until next week.”

“It’s not common knowledge,” he assured her. “Don’t worry. You still have a little time to digest.”

“Ah. Josiah working the grapevine again?”

“It was one of my brothers.” Pete shrugged. “And
not the brother I’ve considered well-informed. He’s taking on some of Pop’s characteristics.”

“Jack,” she said, and he nodded.

“He’ll keep it quiet,” Pete told her. “He only told me because he knows that you and I are…friends.”

Her gaze jumped to his. The word
friends
lingered in the air between them. It felt as if they were something more than that, Priscilla admitted to herself.

“Will you be all right?” Pete asked softly.

“I’ll be closing the tea shop,” she said, and suddenly, the tears she’d been hiding behind her brave face pricked her eyes, making her nose a little runny. “I’m so sorry. It’s just now starting to hit me.”

“Uh-oh,” Pete said, and put out his arms to envelop her. She went into them without hesitation, sitting on his lap, allowing herself to accept the comfort of his broad, warm chest, his strong shoulders. Once she was in his embrace, she realized how good he smelled, how right he felt, and closing her eyes, she let herself cry for a moment.

Pete stroked Priscilla’s hair silently. He felt terrible for her. His purpose in coming here tonight had been to find out if there was anything he could do to help, specifically financially. He’d fully intended to offer her assistance with the tea shop, knowing how much work and heart she’d put into it. As his father had noted, however, Priscilla didn’t have a price, and now that his worst fears were con
firmed, he didn’t dare offer money. She wanted bolstering, she wanted a friendly ear. So he sat holding her, trying to be the friend she seemed to need right now. “I am so sorry,” he finally said, his voice thick.

“I am, too. But I’m not the first person who’s found themselves with reduced fortunes. The downturn in the economy has been hard on a lot of people.” She pulled away, blew her nose on a tissue and laughed, clearly embarrassed by her tears. “I feel silly for weeping on you. There are more important things in life than a tea shop.”

“It’s your livelihood,” Pete said quietly. “You’re entitled to be disappointed.”

She nodded. “Thanks. But I’ve kept in touch with my old boss over the past two years, so I know I can go back to work at my job. Later on, when things settle down, I can start over.”

He nodded, releasing her gently. “That’s the spirit.”

She returned to her chair. “So, did you drive all the way out here just to find out if what you’d heard was true?”

“Yes, and I wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help.” He shrugged. “I’m good at packing.”

She smiled. “You’re a hero. But I’ll manage. You’ve got a father who needs you, and maybe, if you can win over your father’s nemesis, four new children. I think you’ll have your hands full.”

“Never too full for a friend, though.” He grinned at her. “You know I’ll be looking for a nanny if I get the children.”

“Oh.” She wiped her nose, smiled a bit soggily. “I thought you were going to say you could use a companion for your father.”

“I need to do something for Pop, but I haven’t quite determined what it is.” Pete looked at her. “Will you really close the shop?”

She nodded. “It’s for the best. I don’t want a bankruptcy on my credit. I have no way to pay back my bank loan, now that it’s increased. I’d asked Cricket to be my partner, but I refuse to drag her into this.”

He sat thinking for a minute, wishing there was some way he could help her. But there was nothing he could do, not for the circumstances she found herself in. The pity of it was she was very talented at running a business people enjoyed. She was frugal; she had a good product.

He shook his head. “I’ll help you in any way I can. You know that.”

“Thanks.” Priscilla reached over and briefly put her hand over his. He reveled in her touch. The worst part about being friends, he realized, was that there were specific lines he couldn’t cross.

Such as he couldn’t tell her how much he cared about her, how much it pained him to see her hurting. He wanted to sweep her into his arms, carry her away, reassure her.

Instead, he said gruffly, half-teasing, speaking his mind out loud, but doing his best to sound casual, “Don’t forget I’m always looking for a bride.”

She looked at him, her expression wry. “I just happen to be in the market for a husband.”

“Are you?” Pete asked, hardly daring to hope that Priscilla was telling him that she’d marry him. He’d marry her in a heartbeat.

“Of course I’m in the market for a husband,” Priscilla said. “All my friends are married, except Cricket. I’d like to settle down one day.”

“Hey,” he said, puffing out his chest, “there’s always me, the guy from Union Junction.”

She smiled at him. “You’d be my first choice.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Pete said, “because you’d be mine, too. And I think we know where my father stands on the issue.”

She shook her head. “What about all the women at the matchmaking party?”

“Oh, nice women, all of them. But there was a reason Pop picked you first.”

“Maybe he’d heard I had a crush on you,” Priscilla said. “You know how the grapevine operates in small towns.”

“I doubt it. You play your cards tighter to your chest than a man.”

“I thought you were going to say ‘than a spy,’” she teased.

“Yeah, well, a spy, too.” Pete shook his head. “At least that’s James Bond’s trademark.”

“Were you that kind of spy?” she asked gently.

He looked at her. “Who told you?”

“A little birdie.” She shrugged. “My lips are sealed.”

He looked at those soft, sweet lips and wished they were sealed to all but him. He was dying to kiss her.

“I sort of figure I served my country, now I’m going to serve four babies if I get the chance.” He reached over and took her hand in his, tapping her fingers with his. The gesture was playful, and yet he was holding her just the same. “I need a partner in crime.”

“I told you why I can’t,” she murmured.

“Think of it as redemption.”

She sucked in a startled breath. “Redemption?”

“Sure. We all deserve a second chance.”

Her gaze held his while she contemplated his words.

“If you think about it, you’d be doing me a helluva favor,” Pete said. “I’ve been lonely for a long time.”

“Who’s getting rescued here?” she asked, slipping her hand from his.

“Both of us could use a life preserver, me more than you.”

And then he took her hand back in his, raising it to his lips, and gently kissed her fingers. Priscilla
closed her eyes, and then to his utter shock, she said, “Let’s go to bed and sleep on it.”

He blinked, wondering if he’d just received the invitation of all invitations. She rose from her chair, turned off the tea warmer and dimmed the kitchen lights. “Let me show you the rest of the house,” she said.

He followed quickly, not about to miss the grand tour. His Adam’s apple felt permanently lodged north of where it belonged. He noticed she skipped the parlor, the main family room and whatever else was on the first floor as she led him up the staircase. The wood creaked a bit under his weight. He tried to walk softly, feeling as if he was being taken to a reverent place. Priscilla drew him into her bedroom, and he had a quick glance at white-lace curtains and a floral comforter before she took his hat and put it on a chair. She turned the lights low, and the next thing Pete knew, he had an armful of warm, inviting woman.

This is heaven. Please let me get through the pearly gates.

P
RISCILLA HAD KNOWN
that being with Pete would be a wonderful experience. What she hadn’t imagined was that he would be so kind, so gentle, so loving. He was an amazing lover, everything she might ever have hoped for.

Now her heart was fully engaged. She stroked one palm down his chest as he slept; seeing that he hadn’t moved, she swept her hand lightly over the
hard ridges of his abdomen. He was just as beautiful asleep as he was awake, his dark beauty against the white of her sheets giving her eyes plenty to admire.

Suddenly his hand caught hers, arresting it as it stroked his skin. Her gaze flew to his. He gave her a sleepy, caught-ya smile—and then he rolled over, kissing her as he made certain her curiosity was completely satisfied.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
Pete heard his cell phone ringing in his jeans pocket, the jeans he’d left carelessly on the floor last night as he had found his fortunate way into Priscilla’s bed. She was still asleep, a vision of relaxed, happy beauty if ever he’d seen it. He quickly reached for the phone so it wouldn’t awaken her. “Hello?”

“Son, where are you?” his father demanded.

“I’m, um—”

“Never mind,” Pop said. “That social worker’s coming by in three hours. Guess she felt like she could make an appointment this time, instead of doing a drop-in.”

“What’s going on?” Pete asked, getting up, grabbing for his jeans.

“I don’t know. But I think this time you ought to be here. We don’t want it to look like you’re never around.”

“True.” He cast a glance at Priscilla. She was now fully awake, watching him, the sheet pulled close to her chin. He grinned at her modesty. It would do her
no good. The next time he lay in a bed with her, he was going to make certain there was nothing around for her to be modest with. She had the sexiest, most made-for-him body—he wasn’t about to let her hide it from him. “Okay, Pop, I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

“Bring Priscilla,” his father said. “Always helps to have a female around.” He hung up, sounding rushed.

Pete tucked the cell phone back into the jeans he was sliding over his butt. “Sorry about that.”

“Is everything all right?” Priscilla asked.

He leaned to kiss her, taking his time about it. “Unfortunately I’m going to have to be less than a gentleman and head home, though I’d prefer to stay and offer you breakfast.”

“That’s not necessary,” Priscilla said.

Still, he hated to leave her. “If you go to Union Junction with me, I can definitely offer you breakfast.”

She looked at him. “Just breakfast?”

He smiled. “Is there something else you want?”

He liked the blush that warmed her cheeks. “I meant, is there anything going on I should know about? Your father doesn’t often call you home at eight o’clock in the morning, does he?”

Pete shook his head. “The social worker is stopping by. Pop’s nervous.”

She got up, grabbed some clothes. “I don’t know. Sounds like you have a lot on your hands.”

“Pop says you’d probably be good to have around.”

She stopped, looked at him. “Why?”

He shrugged. “You know Pop. He has his reasons for everything, and they’re usually convoluted.”

“I see,” she said, gazing at him with clear, wide eyes.

“I think he believes you can present the softer side of the Morgan men,” he admitted, unable to fib to those trusting eyes.

She looked at him for a long time, and then much to his surprise, she said, “Give me fifteen minutes for a quick shower, and I’ll ride out there with you.”

“What about the tea shop?” He was surprised by her quick agreement to accompany him.

She took a long, deep breath to steady herself. She said, “Truthfully, I need to escape for a few days.”

He realized she was thinking about her parents’ situation and how soon it would become public knowledge. He nodded. “I’ve got a great place to escape to.”

“There comes a time in every woman’s life when she looks for redemption,” she said.

Pete thought,
Men, too,
though he didn’t say it out loud. There was no reason to scare her off. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

“You can be my stand-in fiancée,” he said, half teasing, thinking how much that would suit him. Would she ever agree to being a for-real fiancée? “Make me look good to the social worker and all the other cogs and wheels deciding my fate.”

“Isn’t it bad to lie?”

“It’s terrible to lie.” He kissed her sweet lips, taking his time. “You could always make it true.”

She stepped away, looking at him with surprise. Her eyes searched his, but if she thought he was teasing, she wasn’t going to find laughter lurking in his expression. He was deadly serious—anything to do with the babies brought out his most sober side.

“I’m going to shower,” she said, “and be ready as fast as I can.”

She ignored his proposal. He figured he would, too, if he were her. As proposals went, it was spur-of-the-moment, pathetic, not very romantic. Still, he felt he’d made major headway by talking her into going with him to Union Junction, knowing that the babies were the mission.

Yet it looked strangely like a surrender when Priscilla turned off the lights in the house and put a Closed Until Further Notice sign in her tea-shop window.

W
HEN
P
ETE AND
Priscilla arrived at the ranch, they couldn’t find Josiah anywhere. Pete couldn’t raise him on his cell phone, and he wasn’t in the barns. “It’s not like him to be far from the action,” Pete murmured. Pop was a big man and he knew how to take care of himself. There was no reason to worry; he’d show up soon enough. His truck was there, so he hadn’t run for groceries. He wasn’t tidying up the house, which certainly needed a dusting, Pete thought, deciding to tackle it himself. Priscilla helped him, and they quickly made the den area presentable.

“I thought he’d be back by now,” Pete said.

Priscilla shook her head. “I’m still trying to figure out my own parents. I don’t dare try to figure out Josiah.”

Pete’s anxiety notched up a bit. He wanted his father around for the caseworker’s visit, even though it wasn’t Pop applying to become the father of the quadruplets. He could use all the moral support he could get.

The doorbell rang, and Pete drew a deep breath. “Here goes,” he said to Priscilla, glad for her quiet companionship, and opened the door.

The caseworker looked at him. “Hello, Mr. Morgan.”

“Hello, Mrs. Corkindale. Nice to see you again.”

She stepped past him as he indicated, stopping when she saw Priscilla. “Hello.”

“Hi. I’m Priscilla Perkins,” Priscilla said, extending her hand.

The social worker considered her. “Perkins?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“My fiancée,” Pete added. Priscilla glanced at him, startled. They hadn’t confirmed their plan, but he knew she wouldn’t mind the ruse.

He hoped Mrs. Corkindale would be impressed by Priscilla’s warmth as much as he was. It seemed like the moment to grab good fortune and run with it. Priscilla had just agreed to help him by being a pretend fiancée, hadn’t she? That wasn’t terribly dishonest—it was all for the babies, wasn’t it? Although maybe one day he could convince her to be his true
fiancée. He suddenly realized how much he really wanted that. Making love to her had changed him forever; deep in his heart, where commitment and denial had once warred, lay nothing but contentment.

Mrs. Corkindale smiled at Priscilla. “I knew some Perkinses once.”

Priscilla smiled. “Did you?”

“Yes.” She nodded her head, thinking.

And then it hit him. Mrs. Corkindale would have handled hundreds of adoption cases over the years. Priscilla glanced at him, her eyes wide, though she kept the friendly smile on her face. He shrugged as if to say, “No big deal.”

“Do you remember where you knew some Perkinses, Mrs. Corkindale?” Priscilla asked. “My parents have no relatives around here. We live in Fort Wylie.”

Mrs. Corkindale seemed perplexed. “Perhaps I’ve gotten the names confused.”

Priscilla smiled. “I do that all the time.”

Pete grinned, glad the moment was over. “Well, I—”

Mrs. Corkindale snapped her fingers. “I think there was someone named Perkins in the newspaper today.”

“The newspaper?” Priscilla went very still, her smile slipping. “How could that be?”

Priscilla’s parents had said the bankruptcy wouldn’t be listed for a few days. Pete went to snatch the paper off of Pop’s recliner, where it always was.

On the front page were the top bankruptcies of note in the state. The Perkinses were listed fifth, with the greatest amount of personal fortune lost. Silently he handed the paper to Priscilla.

“Oh, my,” Mrs. Corkindale said. “I am so sorry.”

But Priscilla didn’t hear that. She was lost, staring at the newspaper, this black-and-white harbinger of doom.