Hard Habit to Break (8 page)

“He was arrested?” Matt asked.

“Just before the divorce was final. He’d found a willing partner at another bank. Since I was still married to him, the authorities wondered—”

“If you were involved,” Matt finished for her. “Another set of bastards.”

“I don’t blame them,” she said, but she smiled at his quick defense of her. “They were only doing their jobs.”

“Well, they were idiots for thinking you were
part of it. At least now I understand why you’re so paranoid about your reputation—”

“I’m not paranoid!” she snapped.

“And I figured there had to be a good reason why you were turned-off to men.…”

“I’m not ‘off’ men either!”

“Good. Then we can resume our ‘discreet’ meetings. I’ll save some boxes for future visits.”

With a bone-jarring thump she suddenly felt solid ground beneath the bottom of the carton. Then she was thrown from side to side as he turned the box around so the taped sides faced the hedge.

“Okay, sweetheart. All set. Give me a few seconds to get back into the house before you go through the hedge.”

“Right,” she muttered, trying to reorient herself after the spinning.

After counting to fifty she pushed hard against the side, and the tape gave. Crawling between the burst edges of the carton and scrambling through viciously scratchy twigs, she found herself blinking at the bright morning sunlight on her side of the hedge. Just to be sure, she reached out and touched the garden shed. Solid. Sighing in relief, she looked back at the hole Matt had cut in the middle of the hedge. It couldn’t be any more than a foot wide, and she wondered how she’d managed to squeeze through it. All that mattered was that she had.

Hoping she had no audience for the rest of the farce, she rose to her feet and, since she didn’t have a key to unlock the back door, casually walked around the house to the front. Along the way she
tried to look as if she were admiring the roses, zinnias, and marigolds blooming with health. Nobody was outside, and, reaching the front porch, she picked up her morning paper and opened her door. After closing it behind her, she slumped against it for a long moment. Then she unslumped.

“The bank!”

Liz raced up the stairs even faster than she’d raced down them earlier. A glance at her bedroom clock told her she had ten minutes before the Brinks truck delivered cash to the bank. The time varied with each delivery, and this morning it was for eight o’clock. She was the only one who could sign for it, although that wasn’t the only reason she’d turned down Matt’s offer to stay at his house.

As she pulled the tie belt of her robe free, her hand brushed against the rose she’d stuffed into a pocket. She took it out and stared at it, then threw it into her bedroom wastebasket.

“Damn rose, and damn Matt,” she cursed. “And what a hell of a morning.”

Later that day Liz returned home from work and marched straight upstairs to the wastebasket. She stared at the rose lying inside, its petals looking limp and forlorn. Reluctantly she bent down and picked it up. She tossed it back into the can … and picked it out again.

“Damn rose,” she muttered, laying it on her nightstand.

Sitting in her swivel rocker, Liz gazed unseeing into the darkness of her living room. Silently she admitted what she didn’t want to know.

She liked Matt Callahan.

Under the circumstances, she knew not liking him was the sensible course for her. After all, he’d put her in an almost untenable position several times. And throwing a woman out as the trash wasn’t exactly the best way to make friends and influence people. Also, she wasn’t thrilled with the way he’d given her the rose … or parked his car in her driveway for everyone to see … or …

She frowned. She could have sworn she had about forty different reasons not to like Matt, but at the moment she could think of only four, and she wasn’t really angry about them anymore.

Now it was so easy to pinpoint Matt’s good qualities. She had no doubt that he’d worked hard to gain the financial independence he’d achieved. He
bought paintings because he liked them and not because the piece would enhance his ego or prestige. A square donkey with four noses touched his sense of whimsey. He had a sharp wit, with a mischievous-little-boy quality to his actions. Something deep inside her always stirred at the sight of his green eyes and roguish smile. He was concerned for her welfare. He’d given her a rose.

Settling farther into the plush velvet padding of the chair, Liz closed her eyes and smiled a tiny smile at the thought of the flower.

She wondered how many men would have had the audacity to break into a woman’s house and leave a rose on her pillow. Probably not many. At least she was positive no sane man would. But Matt had a unique brand of sanity … or insanity. Whatever it was, he had made her emotions come alive as they never had before. She’d always had control over her temper—until she’d met Matt. Now she felt as though she were only taking a breather between rounds.

Her grin widening, Liz chuckled to herself. So far she’d already threatened death by auto, bare hands, and bull. If he only knew how often she meant to do him a bodily injury, he’d probably move to the opposite end of the state.

He was right, though, about her passionate nature. That was something she didn’t know how to control. She’d never experienced it before, at least not to this degree. Her ex-husband had a good deal of outward self-assurance and sophistication, but he’d never inspired the highs and lows in her that Matt had. In fact, Matt was exactly the opposite of Jonathan. With deep certainty she knew
Matt never would have resorted to Jonathan’s dirty methods to get ahead in the corporate world. She wasn’t sure how she knew it: he just did. Matt might be a little devious at times, but there was a straightforward honesty about him. From the beginning he had told her he wouldn’t allow her to ignore him, and since then he’d made sure she hadn’t.

Matt’s self-assurance came from inside, and not from his professional position. While the underwear ad indicated Matt had been a successful model, he certainly wasn’t as well-known as Jim Palmer, the ball player. And yet he’d retired. From the way he was settling in next door, he was serious about it too. Jonathan’s idea of gallantry had been to occasionally open a door for a woman. He certainly never would have dreamed up putting her in a box and carrying her out as trash to save her reputation.

Thinking about the morning’s events, Liz giggled helplessly. In a box! The townspeople would have been shocked out of their woolies if they’d seen their very proper bank manager crawling through the hedge like a disheveled procupine. She burst into laughter as she imagined herself calmly brushing the twigs from her hair and saying, “Good morning, folks. Just examining the hedge for woodchucks. Have a nice day.” She laughed even harder and wrapped her arms around her aching sides. Leave it to Matt to make a disaster into a laughing matter. The man really had a knack for it.

Liz’s amusement faded when she imagined how well her bosses would have reacted to her
explanation. She had the feeling that her best customer wouldn’t be able to save her with them. Her luck had held one more time that morning, but she knew she’d stretched it far enough already.

She wondered briefly if Matt was right, and she
was
being paranoid about her reputation. If that were true, she had good reason after the fiasco with Jonathan. Although she had left the stain behind in Chicago, she had taken extra care with her image as an upstanding banker and employee. It would be months until a decision was made on who would replace Joe as district manager, and anything and everything she did would reflect on her ability to fill that position. The very last thing she wished to do was to make Joe or his judgment of her look poor, especially right before he retired. Joe deserved better. Now was definitely not the time to have met someone like Matt. Matt was dangerous and devilish and fun.

She hadn’t been any of those things for a long time, Liz realized with an envying sadness. During college she’d set aside the little girl in her and become deadly serious about her goals in life … and dull. But Matt had brought out a facet of herself that had been hidden away long ago. As a bank manager she’d kept a polite distance between herself and the people of Hopewell. Not only had Matt ignored that distance, he’d insisted on closing it. Maybe that was why she continually lost her temper with him. He made her see Elizabeth O’Neal was something more than a one-dimensional bank manager. She was a woman with a highly charged emotional side and a little bit of mischief mixed into it. Unfortunately she
hadn’t been prepared to discover that about herself, but, at the moment, Matt had left her no option except to act upon it.

Glancing at the luminous dial of her wristwatch, she noted it was after midnight. She grinned again, this time in anticipation. Her “secret admirer” ought to be arriving soon with another surprise for her. And she was ready to catch him at it. Matt’s denials hadn’t fooled her in the least, and she felt deep in her bones that he was leaving the way open for his midnight courtship tactics. Well, she’d promised her “secret admirer” a little surprise in return, and she wouldn’t disappoint him.

Liz stretched over the right arm of the rocker, her hand sinking into cool water. Satisfied the bucket of water she’d filled earlier was still cold enough for her purposes, she removed her hand and waved it in the air to dry it. Another chuckle escaped into the deep shadows of the room as she lit a cigarette and squinted against the bright flare of the match.

She hadn’t managed to outwit Matt by fighting his games, but she might have a chance if she played along. So tonight, the image-conscious banker was gone and the little girl was returning once more.

Liz couldn’t wait to see Matt’s face when she did.

Dressed completely in black, Matt quietly stepped up to a side window of Liz’s house and peered around an evergreen bush into the interior. He wasn’t surprised by the sight of Liz’s profile as
she sat in the living room rocker. She was exactly where he expected her to be.

He grinned. If Liz was waiting for her “secret admirer,” she was in for a disappointment.

He turned on his heel and headed around to the back of the house. Then he climbed up the porch steps and tapped lightly on the back door. The one person Liz probably didn’t expect tonight, he thought, was her friendly next door neighbor, who was concerned only for her personal safety.…

When the back door opened, Matt instantly realized the one thing
he
hadn’t expected was the wall of water shooting out of the bucket in Liz’s hands. Before he could even think to duck, the water smacked him in the face and chest with a bone-shocking chill.

“Matt!” she exclaimed, her voice heavy with laughter. She set the bucket on the floor. “What a nice surprise.”

He took a deep breath and very calmly wiped the water out of his eyes. “Good evening, Liz. I came over to borrow a towel.”

“How apropos,” she murmured between snorts that sounded suspiciously like giggles. “Come in, and I’ll see if I have one.”

Matt stepped into the dark kitchen, ignoring the loud squishing of his wet tennis shoes. He swiped a hand across his dripping beard, and droplets of water went flying in every direction.

“Your method of telling me I need a bath is a little extreme, don’t you think?” he asked, eyeing her sourly.

She looked up from rummaging in a drawer on the other side of the room and shook her head.
“That bucket of water wasn’t meant for you, Matt. It was intended for my ‘secret admirer.’ I wanted him to feel the full force of my admiration.”

“I’ll tell him it was a biggie.”

“Do that,” she replied, returning to him with a small dishtowel in her hand. “Here’s your towel.”

He glared at it, then took it from her and began drying his hair. “I don’t suppose you could spare another.”

Liz tapped her chin thoughtfully and surveyed him from head to toe. As he waited for her answer he could see the mirth filling her gray eyes, even in the darkened room. There were other differences that he sensed more than saw. The invisible defenses that usually bristled the air around her were gone, and she was relaxed and playful. It was as if she’d washed away her resistance when she dumped the water over his head. He decided it was worth a dousing just to see her this way.

“Matt, you look stunning,” she finally said, and burst into laughter. “If only the advertising people could see you now.”

“Advertising?” he questioned her in amazement.

“I saw the underwear ad you posed for,” she explained, and began laughing again. “Right now you’re perfect for the wet look.”

He shook his head in disbelief, not noticing the clamminess of his jeans or the puddle forming at his feet. “You saw the underwear ad?”

“Mmmm. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“You were too busy yelling at me,” he countered, then shrugged. “Besides, it’s never come up in conversation.”

“What about that day at the bank, when I asked you about your occupation.”

“And I told you I’m retired. That’s what I do now.”

“Matt, that’s as evasive now as it was then.” Her amusement gone, she threw up her hands. “Forget it, my game-playing days are over. You’ve got your towel, now go home. It’s late, and I want to go to bed.”