Mismatch (14 page)

“What kind of candy bars do we get for supper?” Wade asked, teasing lights dancing in his eyes as he arranged wood for a camp fire.

Bronwynn shot him a look from where she sat on a log brushing her hair dry. “Supper was going to be the fish you didn’t catch while we were making love.”

“You expected me to catch fish while I was making love to you? That’s kind of kinky, Bronwynn.”

Rolling her eyes, she thrust his fishing pole into his hand. “Go see if you can get some trout to rise to your bait, Grayson. I refuse.”

Wade kissed her nose and left camp whistling. Bronwynn watched him go, a warm smile of satisfaction curving her generous mouth. She looked at Tucker, who was sprawled on a bed of ferns.

“He’s really coming around, Tucker,” she said. “When I first met him he wouldn’t have taken time to whistle, let alone go fishing.”

The Labrador grumbled in his throat, obviously more interested in the cookies Bronwynn had dug out of her pack than in the important changes his master had undergone in the past few weeks.

The sun was sliding down over the mountain when Wade returned with their dinner—two small trout. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find at the campsite upon his return, but it certainly wasn’t a red plaid blanket spread beneath two place settings of gleaming white china and sparkling silver flatware.

“I didn’t dare risk crystal,” Bronwynn said, thrilled by the look on his face as he surveyed her handiwork. “We’ll have to drink our wine from tin cups and pretend.”

Speechless, his gaze fell on the bottle of white wine chilling in a container of water. The camp fire was burning—and nothing else. Bronwynn had wrapped two potatoes in aluminum foil and had them baking. She had gathered wild flowers and put them in a cup for a centerpiece. There was even a candle on their “table.” The white taper was a little worse for wear, after spending the day in a backpack, but its crookedness only made it more endearing. Wade went to Bronwynn’s pack and
peeked inside.

“What? No evening gown?” Wade asked, teasing her gently.

Bronwynn dodged his gaze, fighting a secretive smile. She wore jeans and a baggy sweatshirt that hung nearly to her knees. “No. No evening gown.”

They cooked their trout over the open fire and dined without interference from the dog, who had earlier been bribed with cheese sandwiches and now lay snoozing on the other side of the fire. When the meal was finished and the dishes done, Wade pressed a kiss to Bronwynn’s lips.

“Thank you,” he murmured, gazing into her eyes. “That was a very special dinner.”

Bronwynn’s heart jumped into her throat in nervous anticipation of what was yet to come. “It isn’t over,” she said softly, lifting her hand to his cheek. “This whole night is going to be special.”

Wade felt his stomach tighten with desire as Bronwynn stood up. She unfastened her jeans, dropped them, and stepped out of them. Slowly she lifted the hem of her sweat shirt, peeling it up her body, leaving a trail of shimmering peach silk in its wake. The shirt was tossed aside and forgotten as she stood in the light of the fire letting Wade look his fill.

Sheer lace cupped her high, firm breasts and ran in a seductive vee that ended in a point below her
navel. The silk clung to her subtle curves, skimming the tops of her long legs. Without a word, she turned and went into their small tent.

When Wade stepped into the tent, his breath caught in his throat. A small battery-powered lantern glowed in one corner. The functional sleeping bags had been covered over with an ivory satin sheet, and Bronwynn lay stretched across it, looking up at him with undisguised desire.

Like a man in a trance, he unbuttoned and stripped off his shirt. His shoes and jeans followed. Not willing to take his eyes off the lady waiting for him, he struggled to deal with white cotton briefs that were snagged on the evidence of his passion.

Bronwynn came to him, eager to help, eager to drive him to madness with her hands. While she worked to free him, she ran her lips across the fevered skin of his tanned chest, her tongue flicking across the hard-knotted flesh of his nipples. Her mouth followed the line of dark hair down over the quivering plane of his belly and lower.

Wade wove his fingers into her fine hair, his trembling hand cupping the back of her head. He moaned aloud as she freed him from one prison and trapped him in a sweeter one.

He lifted her to him, kissing her deeply, running his hands over the silk of her nightgown as they
kneeled together on the thick cushion of their bed. Through the film of lace, he teased her swelling breasts. His fingers followed the vee down across her stomach.

Bronwynn gasped into his mouth as his hand trailed lower, pressing the cool silk between her thighs as his fingers found her most sensitive flesh. Her hips danced to the tune his hand played. He bent her back over his arm and closed his lips on the sensitive peak of her breast, sucking strongly at her through the barrier of lace. An explosion of sensation rocketed through her as her passion crested.

She called his name as she stiffened in his arms. As he lowered her to the sheet, she told him she loved him. She murmured it over and over as she took him in her arms, chanted it as she took him deep inside her, cried it out as he took her over the edge again.

Outside the tent, night’s blackness had given way to the soft dark gray of early morning. Bronwynn lay awake, studying Wade’s face in sleep. He looked younger, relaxed in a way he never could be when he was conscious. Even though she’d seen him slowly unwinding over the last few weeks, Bronwynn didn’t fool herself into thinking Wade would ever become laid-back. He was a doer, a worrier, a man who was committed to ideals and beliefs that demanded almost constant attention. That was part of what she loved about him, she supposed. She admired his conviction, yet she was able to see his need for lightness and fun in his life, his need for someone to care for him as a man.

She loved him. During the long night of passion she had told him in every conceivable way that she loved him. Wade had responded with kisses, with caresses, but not with words. She shivered a little. She wasn’t going to pretend she didn’t need to hear the words. She knew Wade cared for her, but how deeply?

Was he convinced they were too different to ever have a future together? She didn’t fit the mold of the politician’s wife. Maybe he thought she’d hurt his image.

Immediately she scolded herself for having believed for a second that Wade was capable of being shallow. She knew he was a man of depth and character—even though she hadn’t known him long.

Perhaps time was the reason Wade hadn’t verbalized his feelings. Perhaps Wade felt it was too soon
to make any kind of commitment. Unfortunately time wasn’t on their side. He was leaving soon. If they didn’t decide about their future now, it was going to be too easy for him to go back to his high-pressure career, to become immersed in it again, and forget about them.

Bronwynn wasn’t willing to let that happen. One of the first things she’d decided when she’d come to Vermont was to take control of her life, to set goals and go after them instead of simply coasting through. She wasn’t about to let Wade Grayson drift away from her. If he didn’t bring up the subject of their future first, she was going to as soon as they got back.

She wouldn’t quite admit to herself that she didn’t want to bring up the subject of their future now. This camping trip was a special time. She didn’t want it marred by a possible argument—especially not by one that could possibly end their relationship.

Shivers ran over her as she shoved the thought from her mind. She snuggled closer to Wade, realizing suddenly that the morning air was cool and
crisp and she wasn’t wearing much more than an
afterglow. As she tried to burrow under him, Wade
cracked one eye open and stared at her with a bemused expression.

“Bronwynn,” he asked in a voice that was little more than a growl, “what are you doing?”

She nuzzled her nose in the curling hair at the base of his throat. “Trying to crawl under you. I’m cold.”

At once Wade was wide awake. “Honey,” he said, rolling on top of her and settling himself intimately in the cradle of her legs, “if you want to be beneath me, just say so.”

His lips hadn’t quite made it all the way to hers when the rain began. They heard it coming down through the trees before it landed, thunk, thunk, thunk on their tent. Not thirty seconds later a mournful howling began right outside the tent.

“Oh, Wade,” Bronwynn said plaintively, instantly moved by Tucker’s canine lamentation.

Wade’s dark brows drew together above a frustrated frown. “He can crawl under a pine tree and stay perfectly dry.”

Tucker’s answer to that suggestion was another wail. Bronwynn looked up at Wade with her most eloquently pleading expression. Grumbling about being too blasted softhearted, Wade pulled his jeans on and let the dog in. Tucker ambled to the middle of the joined sleeping bags, shook himself all over Bronwynn, then proceeded to lay down and roll, drying himself on the ivory satin sheet.

Wade raised an eyebrow at Bronwynn’s expression of dismay. “Happy now?”

The shower ended shortly after it had begun, but the sky refused to clear. The lack of sunshine had no effect on Bronwynn’s and Wade’s day, however. They explored the meadow and the woods around them, quietly walking hand in hand, enjoying each other’s company and the beauty of the wild country.

Wade’s gaze fell on Bronwynn more than it did on the scenery. He was in love with her. If he hadn’t known it for certain before, he knew it now. He couldn’t have begun to describe the soul-deep elation he’d felt in hearing the words from her. It had moved him. It had frightened him. He’d never been in love before. He was a man who seldom took a false step on his own turf, but he was on new ground and he wasn’t at all sure of his footing.

Bronwynn loved him, but how strong were the ties that had only just begun to form between
them? How much of what she felt was a need for
stability after her relationship with Ross Hilliard had crashed and burned? Did she love him enough to leave Foxfire? If they’d had more time together, they could have strengthened the delicate thing between them, nurtured it. But he was going to have to leave soon. Was their love strong enough to survive outside the quiet cocoon of the Green Mountains?

She’s such a free spirit, he thought as he watched her stare in fascinated awe at a doe with twin fawns that had ventured to the edge of the secluded meadow. Would she resent the lifestyle of a politician’s wife? Would it stifle her? Or would she bring color and fun to it?

There was only one sure way to find out the answers to his questions. They were going to have to sit down and have a serious discussion. They’d talk as soon as they got back, he decided. That would give him enough time to get his arguments logically planned out in his head.

Two days later they broke camp reluctantly. Wade took care of the tent, Bronwynn repacked their backpacks, sneaking her gift from her pack
into Wade’s. She had it all figured out—they would go back to Wade’s house with the gear they’d borrowed from Dr. Jameson’s basement. While they were unpacking, Wade would discover the gift, then she would make her pitch for their continued relationship.

Butterflies swooped through her stomach. She’d never been one for designing strategies. It made her nervous to think that something might foul up her plan.

They picked Muffin up at Wizzer’s and continued on their way back to civilization, content to carry on a desultory conversation as they walked hand in hand, each holding onto a leash on the other side. When they emerged from the woods in Bronwynn’s backyard, she unsnapped Muffin’s lead and let the sheep wander to a favorite grazing spot. Wade let his dog go and watched with amusement as Tucker followed the ewe and sprawled in the grass where he could keep an eye on her. As unlikely a pair as the two of them, Wade thought, glancing at Bronwynn.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Her expression was one of puzzlement, her gaze riveted on the house.

“Who are all those people?”

From where they stood, unnoticed at the back
edge of the property, Wade counted at least a dozen
people milling around on the lawn. He couldn’t
recognize any of them from a distance, but it was
clear they weren’t neighbors. Many of the men and women were dressed in business attire. Those who were in more casual clothes wore cameras around their necks. A sense of foreboding ran through Wade.

“The press,” he muttered.

Suddenly one man turned and looked right at them. Then all hell broke loose.

TEN

I
T WAS A
stampede. The media thundered across the lawn, photographers in sneakers overtaking reporters in dress shoes and heels. All of them were shouting at once, arms raised and waving. Mingled in with the noise of voices was the buzz and whirl of camera motor drives as pictures were snapped by the overeager paparazzi. Into the fray jumped Tucker and Muffin, barking and bleating and body slamming reporters. Before Bronwynn could fully comprehend what was going on, she found herself in the middle of the madness.

“Ms. Pierson, how long has this clandestine relationship with Congressman Grayson been going on?”

“Ms. Pierson, how long had you been planning to jilt Ross Hilliard?”

“Are you aware Congressman Grayson’s constituents believe he’s on a fact-finding mission in Rangoon?”

“Is it true Pierson’s Chewing Gum is in line for a Pentagon contract?”

Bronwynn didn’t have a chance to respond to any of the questions that came in rapid-fire succession. Stunned was a mild word for what she was feeling. She practically had grown up on the society page and always had been able to handle the press with ease, flashing them a smile and a glib remark, but now she was dumbfounded. They didn’t belong here, not at Foxfire. It was her sanctuary. They were violating her special place of refuge. And worse than that, they were violating her relationship with Wade, making it sound tawdry.

What were they doing here? How had they found her? No one had known of her whereabouts
except Zane . . . and Ross. Ross Hilliard, that filthy
rotten louse, she thought. It wasn’t bad enough
that he nearly had ruined her life by marrying her, now he had to stoop to sicking the press on her as well.

As if they hadn’t realized Bronwynn hadn’t answered their rabid queries, the reporters turned on Wade, who was as flabbergasted as Bronwynn was.

“Congressman, did you ever have any intention of going to Rangoon? Was Ms. Pierson going with you?”

“Congressman, is this tryst being funded by the taxpayers?”

Wade’s fierce scowl prompted another round of picture taking. Before he could open his mouth to respond to the insulting questions, Murphy Mitchell shoved his way to the front of the crowd.

The congressman’s aide turned to face the media, blocking their view of Wade and Bronwynn with his stocky build and outstretched arms. He looked as if he’d been trampled in the race across the lawn. His tie was askew, and half the tail of his white shirt hung out of his grass-stained slacks.

“If you all will bear with us and be patient, Congressman Grayson and Ms. Pierson will have a formal statement to issue shortly.”

“How shortly?” one reporter shouted.

“Long enough to get their stories straight?” asked another.

“There’s nothing to get straight, ladies and gentlemen,” Murphy said sharply. “This is all perfectly innocuous and very easy to explain. All we’re asking for is a modicum of courtesy on your part. The press conference will be held on the front lawn in fifteen minutes.”

Without another word to anyone, he hustled Wade and Bronwynn to the house, to the upstairs turret bedroom, where no one could listen in on their conversation.

“Murphy, what the hell is going on here?” Wade demanded, trying to keep his voice down as he helped Bronwynn remove her backpack, then shrugged out of his own.

Pacing back and forth across the dusty wood floor, Murphy ran a nervous hand over his thinning dark hair. He gave his boss an incredulous look. “What the hell is going on here? A zoo, that’s what. A couple of days ago someone fed the press a juicy little story about the two of you. As you can see, no one wasted any time beating a path up here to check it out. I tried to explain the situation to them, but your rather conspicuous absence made them skeptical
to say the least.”

“This is all Ross’s fault, Wade,” Bronwynn said, crossing her arms. She felt at fault too. She’d had to shoot her mouth off and tell Ross who Wade was. It probably wouldn’t have made any difference if she hadn’t. She had been Ross’s target in this nasty little scheme, it wouldn’t have mattered whom she’d been with. “Petty bastard. He swore revenge, you’ll remember.”

“Too well.” Wade turned to Murphy. “What did you tell them?”

“The truth,” Murphy said earnestly. “That you came up here for health reasons, that Ms. Pierson’s presence was merely coincidence. I explained to them that your relationship with Ms. Pierson was strictly business, concerning the purchase of her property here in Vermont.”

Bronwynn felt as if she’d taken a blow to the chest. She stared at the man, too stunned to move. Purchase of property? Strictly business? Murphy obviously believed every word he was saying. He had no reason to lie. How would he have gotten the impression he had, unless it was what Wade had told him? The guilty look on Wade’s face told her all she didn’t want to know.

Murphy went on, oblivious to the undercurrents between the other two people in the room. “I told them you and I had discussed the possible purchase of this property several times over the phone. I
even brought out the sketches we had done of the ski lodge we were planning to build.”

How she managed to stay on her feet was a complete mystery to Bronwynn. She felt numb all over, inside and out. She watched Murphy turn to the carved mahogany bed, unzip an oversize portfolio. He withdrew several large pen-and-ink drawings of a modern ski lodge. She wondered vaguely if what she was feeling was anything like an out-of-body experience. As she stared at the draftsman’s idea of what should be standing in place of her wonderful old house, she felt detached. If only what was happening was as unreal as it seemed, she thought.

With painful clarity she recalled every question Wade had asked her about Foxfire over the past few weeks. More than once he had asked her if she was considering selling. In fact, he had encouraged her to sell. From the first he had discouraged her from staying. As recently as two days ago he had asked her what her plans were.

She had hoped he’d been thinking about their future together then. Lord, what a fool she’d been. No wonder Wade hadn’t told her he loved her. Their relationship had been a business matter to
him with some fabulous sex thrown in as a fringe benefit. He had taken what had been freely offered. What man wouldn’t have?

Men. She had come up here to escape one Machiavellian male and had entangled herself with another, telling herself once again that she was in love with him. How could she have been so stupid? She had known Ross for years and he had betrayed her. How could she have let herself trust Wade Grayson? She hadn’t known the first thing about him. Was she so in need of love that she had to latch on to the first man to show her a little kindness after a heartbreaking experience?

Part of her still wanted to deny what Murphy was saying. She didn’t like to think she’d been made a fool of twice in one summer. She didn’t want to believe what she’d shared with Wade had been less than love. But Murphy Mitchell wasn’t lying, and he was holding the proof in his hands, sketched in black and white.

“I tried telling them the two of you were about as mismatched as cheese and peaches,” Murphy said with a half-laugh. “But they wouldn’t believe me.” He shook a finger at his boss. “I warned you about this, Wade. I told you they’d jump all over the sex angle—”

“Murphy, shut up,” Wade said through his teeth, his gaze locked on Bronwynn. He felt sick at the look on her face. Her thoughts played across it like a movie on a screen. She was taking everything Murphy said straight to heart and damning him straight to hell. He could feel the foundation of their very new and fragile relationship crumbling beneath his feet, and panic clenched like a fist in his gut. Reaching out to her he said, “Bronwynn, I can explain.”

She jerked away from him, rubbing her arm where he’d touched her as if he’d burned her. Her chin trembled ever so slightly, but she stood as straight and stiff as a post. If she couldn’t salvage anything else out of this mess, at least she could cling to her pride. “There’s no need, Wade. Your henchman has done a more than adequate job.”

“Henchman?” Murphy protested.

Wade waved him off, his gaze locked on Bronwynn. “Bronwynn, if you would just listen—”

“I’ll listen,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, as much to hide the trembling in her limbs as to take a belligerent stance. “You tell me—did you ever have any intention of buying this property to build a ski lodge on?”

Wade’s heart sank even further. If she didn’t let him explain, his answer was going to drive the final nail into the coffin lid. He never had mentioned his former plan for buying the property because he had given it up as soon as he’d seen how important Foxfire was to Bronwynn—and how important Bronwynn was to him. But would she believe him even if she gave him the chance to explain? He had a sick feeling the answer to the question was no.

“Yes,” he said, forcing the word out of his mouth, “but—”

She winced as if he’d struck her. Staring down at the wood floor to hide the tears that pooled in her eyes, quietly she said, “That’s all I needed to hear.” As she turned to leave the room, Wade caught her arm, his fingers biting into the soft flesh. His eyes were pleading, his voice was rough and smoky with the need for understanding. “Bronwynn, it’s not at all what you’re thinking.”

“That you used me? That I was the recreation part of your R and R trip to Vermont? That you heard my story and thought ‘Oh, great. Here’s a little fool I can have some summer fun with’?”

Frustrated that he couldn’t will her to listen to him, Wade pulled her closer to him. “You’re a little fool, all right. Bronwynn, I love you.”

She glared at his hand on her arm, then raised
her gaze to his face, her mismatched eyes blazing like jewels. “What a convenient time to say so.” Bitterness coiled like a snake inside her. “Don’t worry, Congressman, I won’t tell the press what a bastard you are. After all,” she said mockingly, “this situation is perfectly innocuous and easily explained. It was strictly business. Too bad nobody bothered to tell me.”

She played the press with a cunning that was almost ruthless, Wade thought as he listened to Bronwynn answer questions and turn accusations around. His Bronwynn, who was always so laid-back, could be a tigress when she was cornered.

His Bronwynn. She wasn’t his anymore. She had been quick to believe the worst of him, and Wade had to wonder if she ever had been his. He hurt on two different levels. He couldn’t stand to have his integrity questioned. He was and always had been scrupulously honest—to have anyone think differently was the worst kind of affront. But he found the deepest hurt was that she questioned his love.

He hadn’t told her soon enough that he was in love with her, but then, he’d never been in love before. It was new to him. So far, he wasn’t wild
about the experience. First he had to go and fall for a woman who drove him bonkers, who was his opposite in every way. Now he hurt right down to his toenails, because Bronwynn had taken his declaration of love and spit it right back in his face.

Dammit, how could she lose faith in him so quickly? How could she believe he was capable of such duplicity? Well, he’d known all along the workings of her mind were a mystery worthy of Sherlock Holmes. The woman didn’t know what logic was. Steer clear of her, he’d told himself right from the start. Why hadn’t he taken his own advice?

“How do you explain the backpacks you were wearing when you came out of the woods, Ms. Pierson?” asked one of the reporters who was standing at the foot of the porch.

“There are nearly three hundred and fifty acres of forestland on this property,” Bronwynn explained coolly, looking down her nose at the woman. She was discovering anew the depth of her strength. She ached to find a quiet, private corner to curl up and suffer in, but she’d be damned if
she’d let either the press or Wade see how badly she
was hurting. “Congressman Grayson and I were
going over it to determine if it would be suitable
for cross-country ski trails.”

“And are you going to purchase the property, Congressman?” questioned a young field reporter from one of the major television networks.

“No,” Wade said quietly.

Bronwynn jumped in before he could say more. “We were unable to come to terms. I’ve decided to keep Foxfire, renovate the house and grounds, and open it as a bed and breakfast inn.”

“Then you won’t be going back to Indiana with the congressman?”

He never invited me, she thought, pain slicing through her.
Damn you, Wade Grayson, for making me fall in love with you. Damn me for being fool enough to do it.
“No, I won’t be going to Indiana.” She shot a look at Wade, her eyes full of accusation. “I was never going to Indiana.”

“What do you have to say, Congressman?”

Wade’s level gaze never left Bronwynn’s face. The stubborn set of his jaw, the line of his mouth betrayed his inner pain, but neither was something the gossip hounds noticed. In general he appeared relaxed, bored even. His tone of voice was sardonic. “Our department of tourism will be disappointed.”

“How does Ross Hilliard figure into this scenario, Ms. Pierson?”

Bronwynn saw red at the mention of Ross’s name. He had sworn to get revenge on her for walking out on their wedding. He was getting revenge all right, the rotten creep. There hadn’t been a method of torture yet invented that was hideous enough for use on him, but she was thinking up several that came close.

She managed an indolent shrug and raised a questioning brow at the reporter. “You tell me. As far as I’m concerned, Ross Hilliard is ancient history, water over the bridge.”

“Under the bridge,” Wade muttered, rolling his eyes.

Bronwynn wheeled on him, no longer able to hold back her temper. The wall she had hastily erected to keep in her emotions cracked then virtually exploded. “Dammit, will you stop correcting me! It can be water over the bridge if I want it to be!”

“No, it can’t, because your bridge doesn’t connect on both sides,” Wade said, venting some of his own pent-up frustration. It wasn’t like him to lose his cool in front of the press, but then he hadn’t been himself since he’d met Bronwynn Prescott Pierson. Now he couldn’t think about the reporters on the lawn. All he could think about was that he had given Bronwynn the privilege of being the only woman he’d ever fallen in love with, and she was treating him as if he were something that had just crawled out from under a rock.