Hard Habit to Break (7 page)

“Because you’re the only qualified pervert in Hopewell!”

He grinned. “Nice to know you think so highly of me, Liz. Actually the rose sounds more like the work of a secret admirer. As you know, I’m an open one.” He paused and thoughtfully rubbed
his beard. “I don’t like having competition, though. Let alone one so suave and gallant as to leave a rose on your pillow.”

Liz uttered a barnyard curse. If he ever set foot in her house again, she’d shoot him, she decided.

“Shocking language for a banker,” Matt commented. “I wonder if your secret admirer knows you’ve got a mouth that would make a sailor blush. Personally, I think it shows you’ve got a good deal of passion. Besides, I curse when I’m angry, so why shouldn’t you? It just proves we’ve got passionate natures, although we already know that, don’t we?”

She swallowed back the second curse on her lips, vowing not to give him the satisfaction of hearing it. Matt was deliberately trying to provoke her anger even further, and she’d fallen right into his trap. The thought was enough to cool her anger into a cold lump of ashes. He was obviously aware her emotions were always out of balance whenever she was around him, and he was using them against her. He was a very shrewd game player, but she didn’t have the inclination to play.

Cool air drifting across her bare ankles made Liz aware of another, much more intimate fact. They were both dressed only in bathrobes. At least she was wearing the additional but flimsy protection of a nightgown. She had the feeling, though, that Matt’s robe was the only thing between her and his total exposure. She hoped not, but a helpless downward glance told her Matt’s feet were as bare as hers. Several inches of male legs showed between the hem of his robe and the floor, and
the deep V of the robe’s collar revealed a wide band of silky hair and hard chest.

One quick flick of the belt, and Matt would be as naked as the day he was born.

Her body heat rising alarmingly, Liz had the sudden urge to untie that belt. She swallowed and forced herself to stand very still. She willed Matt to stand very still too. One move, and she was a goner.

“So,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, “since we’ve established I’m no ‘secret admirer,’ what are you going to do about the guy?”

Liz silently sent thanks heavenward that his one move hadn’t been toward her. But she couldn’t give away her inner turmoil with some wimpy answer or he’d take advantage of that too.

She smiled, hoping it looked sickly sweet and not just sickly. “You really want to know?”

He nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. Evidently her smile was sickly sweet. She wanted to let her breath out in a whoosh, but resisted.

“First of all, I’m going to call the police and report an escaped psycho …”

“Bad move, Liz. Think of all the gossip it will create when the cop cars pull up in front of your house.”

“My goodness, Matt, you really have my best interests at heart.” Sometimes game-playing was in order, Liz decided. “The cops are out. Maybe I should borrow Romeo for a few days and let him pasture in my yard. One ton of mean bull ought to be enough to scare anyone off.”

“That does have merit. But how do you explain Romeo to the neighbors?”

“I’m going into the dairy business.”

“Bulls don’t give milk.”

“Good point.” She made a show of tapping her chin in concentration, then shrugged. “Well, I’m sure I can think up some little surprise. I’m sorry I mistook you for my admirer. I really don’t know how I could have. You’re nowhere near as suave and gallant as he is. Have a nice day, Matt.”

Feeling she’d had the last word, and a very effective one, Liz turned on her heel and opened the front door … and immediately shut it on the sight of Corey Wilson across the street delivering newspapers. She collapsed against the door and closed her eyes in embarrassment.

“Forget something?” Matt asked in an amused voice.

“Only my brains,” she muttered. She straightened away from the door and turn back to him, lifting her chin to a dignified angle. “Matt, I always seem to make an idiot of myself around you, don’t I?”

“Forget it. I’ve done my share with you.” He chuckled, moving beside her. “Now, who’s out there?”

“Corey, with the morning papers.”

“No problem. He’ll be gone in a moment.”

He silently waited with her until there was an audible
thunk
on the porch. Matt motioned her back away from the door.

“I’ll check the street.”

Liz didn’t breathe as Matt opened the door and stepped outside. With straining ears she heard him pad across the porch. There was more silence, and she knew he was checking the surrounding
houses for activity. Maybe her luck would be good and—

Suddenly she realized that no matter how fast she could possibly run, anyone could pick that moment to look out of a window and see her. In her nightgown and robe she was well and truly stuck. There was no logical way to explain her leaving his house at seven in the morning. Even if she suddenly grew wings, she still couldn’t fly over the rooftops. That would attract even more attention.

Feeling helpless and depressed, Liz turned away from the open door and dragged herself over to the stairs. Sitting down on the third step from the bottom, she propped her chin in her hands. Realizing she was still holding the rose, she absently stuffed it into her pocket while contemplating the fates.

“Dammit, Liz! What the hell are you doing sitting on the steps?” Matt asked impatiently as he strode into the house. “You should be over here, ready to go—”

“I’m sitting on the steps, wishing I had paid more attention in my chemistry classes,” Liz interrupted, slowly rising to her feet.

“Chemistry!”

“Maybe then I’d know the formula for making myself invisible. That’s the only way I’ll get out of here.”

Matt scowled at her. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’ll take only two seconds to run across the lawns. Nobody will see you.”

“Matt, anyone can look outside during those two seconds,” she said, shaking her head. “And
they’ll see their upstanding bank manager running for her life with her bathrobe hiked up to her knees. I just can’t take the chance of going out your front door.”

Gazing into her distressed gray eyes, Matt silently and thoroughly cursed himself for putting her in this predicament. Granted, he hadn’t expected her to show up on his doorstep before breakfast, but the responsibility for getting her back to her house unseen was his.

Feeling that increasingly familiar protectiveness rise up inside him, he walked over to her and put his arms around her in comfort. She didn’t return his embrace, but she didn’t resist either.

“I’m sorry, Liz. If only Corey hadn’t already been around with the papers, we could have disguised you as him. Can you call in sick at the bank? Then you could stay here all day.…”

She stiffened and pulled away. “No. Anyway, I have to be there today. It’s important.”

“Okay,” he replied, sensing she couldn’t be swayed. “Maybe some coffee will help us—”

He cut off his own words as an idea popped into his head. Ignoring her puzzled frown, he worked through the details. It was crazy, but it might just work.

“Liz, could you stand a little claustrophobia? If you can, I think I can get you out of here.”

“I suppose.” Shaking her head again, she chuckled wryly. “Actually, I’d do anything.”

He grinned at her. “Anything?”

Her face flushed, and she nervously rubbed her forehead. “Matt, I really hate repeating myself …”

The smile dropped from his face. “Forget it,
honey. I already got the message. You might as well make yourself some coffee while I get things ready, okay?”

She nodded. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Just practice being the trash.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to do this!” Liz said with a groan twenty minutes later.

“Well, if you can think of a better way to get out of here without being seen, go ahead,” Matt said, grinning. He was dressed in cutoff jeans and a sweatshirt, its sleeves ripped out.

Hands on her hips, Liz kept her gaze on the large packing carton she was to hide in. She knew Matt had reinforced the bottom so she wouldn’t fall out of it, and he’d already cut a small hole in the hedge out by the gardening shed. One side of the carton had been cut, also, and was held together only with packing tape.

“You’re going to carry me out to the backyard in this carton like I’m the trash, and then I’m supposed to climb through the hedge and pretend I’m out by the shed to smoke a cigarette?” she asked in awe.

It sounded ridiculous, she thought, but she couldn’t help believing it would work. Somehow, crazy things always did. At least no one would see her until she “magically” appeared at the shed. She only hoped any observer would be questioning his eyesight and not how she got there in the first place. And Matt would bring out several more boxes and place them with the first, as if he were
getting them out of his way before they went in the trash.

“The plan’s foolproof, and you’re always smoking by the shed,” he pointed out. “By the way, lately you’ve been out there more than three times.”

“I had a setback.” She wasn’t about to tell him he was the setback.

“There is another way to quit.…”

“I saw
Cold Turkey
and forget it! Sex doesn’t cure everything,” Liz replied caustically. There was a long silence, and she glanced up into Matt’s amused eyes. “Don’t say it! Don’t even think of saying it!”

He laughed. “Just get in the box, and I won’t.”

She immediately stepped over the edge and sat down. She stood back up.

“Wait a minute. You’ll hurt yourself if you try to pick this up from the floor.” She glanced around the garage and spotted a small workbench. “The box would be easier to lift from on top of the bench.”

“Why, Liz, I didn’t know you cared,” Matt exclaimed, and planted a smacking kiss on her lips.

She felt the sudden rush of blood to her face. “Dammit, Matt!”

He suddenly swung her up into his arms and set her down feetfirst on the floor.

“I could carry you anywhere, but I think you’re probably right about it being easier to lift the carton from up there.” He grinned. “I wouldn’t want you all upset about my hurting myself.”

Still flushed, Liz glared at him as he picked up the empty box and placed it on the workbench. She refused to admit she’d been concerned about
him
. She would have felt the same about anyone lifting a heavy object from the ground.

He turned around and crooked a finger at her. With a last grumble of frustration she climbed up on the wooden stool in front of the workbench. She hesitated for a moment, the sides seeming higher than when the box had been on the ground.

“Here,” Matt said, putting his hands around her waist to steady her. She’d just opened her mouth to object when he added, “I’ll brace myself against the side, so it won’t fall off.”

She glanced down in confusion, then realized the edge of the carton overlapped the bench about two or three inches. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, she thought, but decided to get into the box anyway. Matt would probably turn a protest from her into another innuendo.

With his help she swung one leg, then the other, over the top of the carton. She crouched down.

He flipped the ends closed over her head and said, “All set. You know, Liz, I like having you worry about me, but I promise I won’t hurt myself. I wouldn’t dare. You may still need me for that cigarette cure.”

Huddled down in the darkness, Liz banged on the side of the carton. “Shut up and start playing trashman!”

She squirmed around trying to find a comfortable position in which to brace herself and yet spread her weight evenly along the edges. The only one that even remotely worked was on her hands and knees, like a dog. She heard the click and whirr of the automatic garage door opener.

“Ready?” Matt asked.

“No, but go ahead.”

She could feel the pressure of his arms as they curved around the carton. There was a rocking motion and a sudden heave, and she found herself helplessly jolted against all four sides at once.

“Stop bouncing around like that, or you’ll fall out,” Matt warned, his voice muffled by the cardboard.

“Stop bouncing me around like that, and I won’t,” she half-shouted, finding it impossible to brace herself when she was at a disconcerting forty-five-degree angle. She gave up. Her only security was the pressure of his chest through the cardboard against her back.

“Shhh. Not so loud. Okay, here we go.”

As the carton swayed with his movements, Liz tried to keep herself as still as possible. She willed the bottom not to drop out on her.

“What went wrong with your marriage?”

She jerked her head up at Matt’s surprising question. At the same moment the box shifted and she loudly sucked in her breath.

“Liz, you don’t have to tell me if it’s too painful.”

She realized he’d mistaken her gasp of fright as shock at his question. To her further surprise, she found herself wanting to tell him about Jonathan. “Actually it’s only pride-bruising at this point. My ex-husband liked the idea of marrying his banker. Oh!”

The box was tilting more and more toward the left. Matt grunted and the box suddenly straightened again. She gave a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said. “I was going around
the bush at the front of the garage. Now, about what’s-his-face.”

She smiled. “Jonathan. Let’s just say he didn’t like being a banker’s husband when I wouldn’t ‘smooth over’ certain banking irregularities for him.”

“Irregularities?” The box tilted and righted again.

Liz swallowed. “Borrowing from inactive accounts to cover his own. Insuring loans for his company which would never qualify under normal circumstances. That sort of stuff. I was an assistant manager then, at a bank in Chicago, and Jonathan was climbing the corporate ladder any way he could. I always knew he was ambitious, but until we were married, I hadn’t realized just how much.”

“That bastard!”

She gave a dry chuckle. “I think I said that at the time. Among other things, especially after he was arrested.”

The box suddenly dipped and was shifted upward in the same way an airplane reacts when it hits an air pocket. Liz swallowed again.