Hard Habit to Break (11 page)

Was she teasing him after last night? She should
know he wouldn’t give a damn about three big brothers, whatever their professions. Father Michael had been only a momentary shock. Was she attempting reverse psychology on him to scare him off? If so, it was causing the opposite effect.

Rubbing a hand across his forehead, he groaned in frustration. Liz wasn’t a devious person. She had always been honest with him. Sometimes too honest, but she never played games to entice a male … at least she didn’t with him. Wearing a sheer blouse with no bra didn’t mean anything. There were a lot of women who didn’t even own a bra.

His thoughts were interrupted when Liz entered the kitchen and walked toward him. “How do you like Hopewell so far?” she asked.

“Fine, fine,” he replied, straightening up from the counter. He stared at her breasts, hoping she wouldn’t cross her arms over them, and at the same time praying she would.

“Good. Very good.”

He knew he had to have imagined the wanton purr in her voice. It wasn’t really there. She stopped close beside him and began brushing the spilled sugar together into a small pile. Although her breasts were no longer in his line of vision to torture him, her light perfume filled his nostrils, and her arm and hip brushed lightly but rhythmically against him with her movements.

“I want to thank you for being such a gentleman last night,” she said, finally breaking the silence

Her voice was low and breathy, and Matt tried
to ignore the alluring sound of it. He gave her a sharp nod in reply.

“I really appreciate the sugar. Small towns are so warm and friendly, aren’t they? Not like big cities.”

“It’s why I moved here,” he answered, feeling the topic of conversation was about as unsexy as it could get. Liz certainly wasn’t. “I always wanted to live in a small town.”

Her gray eyes were wide as she turned toward him and murmured, “I’m so glad you picked Hopewell.”

He stared at her in shock. She’s been fighting him since the first moment they’d met, and now she was acting as if she couldn’t wait to hop into bed with him. Suddenly he was furious with her for confusing the hell out of him.

“What is wrong with you?” he shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her. “You’re dressed like a hooker and cooing like a stuffed pigeon this morning. Did you take an idiot pill or something?”

She looked at him for a long minute, then calmly said, “I have no idea what you’re so angry about, Matt. I’m only dressed as usual for work—”

“You have never worn
that
to work!”

“Yes I have, although I haven’t worn it since you’ve moved here. It’s nice and cool—”

“That’s an understatement.”

“And it still looks good at the end of the day, so it can double for evening wear,” she continued, ignoring his caustic comment. “I’m not ‘cooing,’ either. I’m simply being pleasant this morning. Evidently
you
are not pleasant in the morning—”

“What the hell does ‘evening wear’ mean?” he asked suspiciously.

She gave an indulgent chuckle. “I thought you used to be in the fashion business. It means I can wear it to a restaurant for dinner, or to a show.…”

“Do you have a date?” he began, an urge to murder rising in him. “Because if you do, you can just break it—”

“
Moi?
Have a date?” She picked up the sugar bowl. “Thank you for the sugar, Matt. I’ll see myself out.”

Straightening, he grabbed her arm before she could move. “Do you have a date, Liz? Just answer me that.”

She smiled a tiny half smile. “Only with my ‘secret admirer.’ I’ve discovered he’s a man
to
admire.”

Bewildered by her answer, he let her go as she pulled away from him and strolled leisurely out of the kitchen.

Questions slammed around in his brain as Matt watched her disappear through his dining room. Was she inviting him back for another midnight rendezvous? Was she ready to make love? Or would he get another face full of water?

What the hell was going on around here?

Lying on her bed, her head propped against the headboard, Liz watched the eleven o’clock news anchorwoman sign off for the evening. Over an hour ago she’d pulled the portable TV to the foot of her bed, and its phosphorescent glare was the only illumination in her darkened bedroom.

As a commercial began, Liz straightened for a moment and rubbed at the ache that had settled in her neck. Then she tucked the long silk nightgown of midnight blue around her ankles. Even though she felt tired, she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. The morning events with Matt kept playing through her head.

She lay back against the upright pillows and scowled, wondering what had possessed her to stroll over to his house and ask to “borrow” a cup of sugar. She must have been out of her mind! It certainly wasn’t difficult to understand why Matt had thought she was dressed like a hooker. The pink blouse was nearly as transparent as plastic wrap.

A tiny grin curving her lips, she silently admitted Matt hadn’t been indifferent to her outfit. The look on his face when he’d opened his door had been priceless.

Thank heavens, though, her not-so-secret admirer hadn’t accepted her invitation to come over this evening, she thought as her grin faded. At least one of them had some sense amid all the nonsense they’d been playing on each other lately. She only wished it had been
her
common sense that had surfaced just before she’d walked out of her house with that damn sugar bowl.

She shook her head, knowing she shouldn’t be less grateful to Matt simply because she’d made a fool of herself. After all, she was a grown woman, and she shouldn’t have acted like a perverse child who immediately did something she’d been told not to.

An odd kind of disappointment surfaced within
her, and Liz grimaced as she tried to suppress it. But the disappointment grew stronger. She finally admitted that she would happily have tossed all responsibility for her actions out the window if Matt had shown up that evening. Of course, he’d seen to it that she wouldn’t have to make that choice now.

She sighed as she watched the late night show logo stream across the small TV screen. When she saw that the movie was
Captain Blood
, her spirits rose. She’d always been a fan of the old movies, especially pirate movies, and especially Errol Flynn pirate movies. Although she’d seen it seven or eight times before, she decided to watch it again. She had nothing better to do, and maybe a good rousing adventure would finally make her sleepy.

“Did I miss anything?” Matt asked, strolling into her bedroom as if it were the public library.

At the sound of his voice Liz screamed and leaped off the bed, terror pounding through her veins. In the same second she recognized Matt, and she placed a trembling hand to her chest to calm her wildly beating heart while her breath bellowed in and out of her lungs.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded in a gasping voice as she slumped in relief.

“I came over to watch the movie with you,” he explained, stopping at the other side of the bed. He was dressed completely in black again, as he’d been the night before.

“Well, you scared me half to death. I didn’t even hear you in the hallway.”

He chuckled. “I guess I should have announced
myself, but I wanted to surprise your ‘secret admirer.’ ” He looked around the room. “Where is he?”

“Wherever he is, he’s definitely not all there,” she muttered. She walked over to the closet, pulled out a blue flowered cotton robe, and shrugged into it. Quickly buttoning the robe’s front, she asked, “What
are
you doing here?”

“I came to watch the movie.” He held up a large brown paper bag she hadn’t noticed in her terror. “I brought popcorn and beer.”

She couldn’t stop the sudden giggle that escaped her. Leave it to Matt to cart over refreshments while he put on a fright show for her.

“You’ll ruin everything by being here when my ‘secret admirer’ shows up,” she pointed out.

“That’s the general idea. Mind?” he asked, dropping the bag on top of the bed. Without waiting for her answer he sat on the edge of the mattress, yanked off his jogging shoes, then slid toward the bed’s center and crossed his legs Indian-style. “You know, Liz, you really ought to have all the locks on your doors changed. It’s too damn easy to get into your house.”

“I never had any problems with intruders before,” she replied sourly. “Until you moved next door. I wonder why that is.”

“You didn’t have me before to point out these little things to you.” He opened the bag, pulled out a smaller plastic one, then held it toward her. “Popcorn?”

Her shock completely gone, she knew this was the moment to ask him to leave. She would be
breaking all her own personal rules if Matt stayed in her bedroom a moment longer.

“With butter?” she asked, curious.

He arched his brows. “Popcorn without butter is like the Empire State Building without King Kong.”

She felt her resistance ebb at the thought of hot buttered popcorn to go with the movie. Gingerly sitting down on the very edge of the bed, she reached inside the plastic bag and scooped up some popcorn. “Thanks.”

Munching on the salted and buttered ambrosia, she wryly decided that Matt thrived on the outrageous. It must be contagious, because the situation couldn’t get any more bizarre than the adult pajama party she was now hosting. Unfortunately she was the only one who’d dressed properly. She swallowed heavily.

“Like a beer?” Matt asked, breaking into her thoughts.

She turned to look at him and found he was watching the movie intently. He was more interested in Errol Flynn’s exploits than he was in her, she told herself. Embarrassment heated her face. The tension in her body dissipated, though, with the knowledge that he wouldn’t suddenly begin to pillage and plunder her.

“A beer would be fine,” she replied, briefly wondering at the vague regret she felt inside her. She sternly told herself she didn’t
want
to be pillaged and plundered by Matt—and immediately suppressed the voice inside her that called her a liar.

Without taking his gaze from the screen he popped the tab on a frosted beer can and handed
it to her. Scooting more fully onto the quilted spread, she carefully crossed her legs while keeping her nightgown and robe in place with her free hand. After giving him an unnoticed grin, she lifted the can to her lips and sipped the smooth, tangy beer.

“How long have you been breaking into women’s houses to watch the late movie?” she asked, balancing the can between her crossed ankles.

“Since I retired from modeling and moved next door. Hey! Gimme back the popcorn.”

“In a minute,” she replied, pouring enough popcorn for six people onto her lap. She handed back the bag. “Don’t worry. I left you some.”

“Not much,” he grumbled, shaking the bag to check its now depleted contents. Then he peered at her and asked, “How long have you been sharing popcorn and beer with men?”

She choked on some popcorn, then sipped more beer to help clear her throat. Leaning to her right and placing the beer can on the floor this time, she turned her head and answered, “Since you retired and moved next door. Matt, why are you doing this?”

“For the same reason you are,” he replied, his eyes turning greener as they stared into hers.

She glanced away hastily. “My excuse is that you’re insane and I’m just humoring you until the men with the butterfly net arrive.”

“Let’s hope they don’t come until the movie’s over. Now, be quiet! This is the best part. Flynn’s about to escape from the island prison and start swashing his buckle all over the place.”

Bursting into laughter, Liz fell back onto the
mattress. Popcorn shot into the air, showering her and Matt in a short blizzard of fluffy kernels.

“I wish someone had told me it snows in Vermont in July,” Matt said, calmly brushing popcorn off his black shirt and jeans.

Her laughter subsiding into giggles, Liz raised herself on her elbows. “Only in the higher elevations, like second floor bedrooms. Did I miss any buckles swashing?”

“Not yet,” he said as he turned his head and grinned at her. He began to brush popcorn off her, his right hand briskly skimming her body at first, then slowing to long, smooth strokes.

Liz felt her unvoiced protest die at his movements. She couldn’t move, couldn’t tear her gaze from his handsome bearded face. His hand gently explored her slender legs through her gown. It evoked a shivering response that left her wanting more. Then his hand rose higher, burning a path up her hipbones and waist before it settled on her breast and kneaded the soft flesh. The distinctively colored sensations she’d felt once before were back again, but stronger this time, entrapping her in their brightness. Of their own accord her head dropped back and her eyes closed. In a daze she felt the bed shift as Matt twisted around until his body was hard against hers.

His mouth suddenly covered her own, his arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace. Lips fused, tongues moved rhythmically. The kiss was white-hot with mutual want and need.

Caught up in its intensity, Liz moaned in the back of her throat as her hands automatically slid around his shoulders. Her nails sank into the
black shirt. She could feel the heat of Matt’s skin, and her own flesh burned in response.

She gave a helpless cry of protest when he lifted his head for an instant. Then he pressed his face into the base of her slender neck, his lips caressing the sensitive flesh.

“I thought you came over to watch Errol Flynn,” she whispered, feeling a reluctant duty to remind him of the reason for his visit.

“Flynn can wait,” he murmured against her skin. “You and I can’t.”

“I know,” she replied, the last of her resistance crumbling.

At her acknowledgment Matt felt his blood surge through him. He reached up and began to unbutton her robe, all the while silently cursing his awkward movements. Liz’s hands suddenly touched his, soothing them. His fingers finally unbuttoned the robe and, sitting up, he deftly slipped her out of it. The nightgown swiftly followed.

“We’re covered in popcorn,” he muttered inanely, gazing at the tiny splendor of woman that she was. “Lord, but you’re beautiful.”