A Bride Until Midnight Page 3

  She glanced at him as she closed the refrigerator. “I told her where she put her spare key this week. She keeps moving it and forgets where she hides it.”

  “Is that why they call you the keeper of secrets?” he asked.

  Summer stopped putting away groceries and looked at him. She prided herself on her ability to identify a person’s true nature at first sight. She wasn’t the only one in this room doing that right now. Kyle was looking at her as if she were a puzzle he had every intention of solving. That felt far more dangerous than the heat in his gaze or the fact that she was wondering if he might kiss her.

  She wasn’t about to be the first to look away, as if she had something to hide. Which she did, but he didn’t know that. And he wouldn’t.

  Okay. It was time to get both their minds on something else. “Are you flirting with me?” she asked, even though she knew he was.

  She could tell her ploy had worked by the change in his stance, the slight tilt of his head, the even slighter narrowing of his gaze. Oh yes, his mind was on something far more fundamental than her past, for nothing was more fundamental than flirting with the opposite sex.

  For months, Kyle had felt as if a spring had been coiled too tight inside him. This woman was slowly unwinding him. She’d taken a chance when she’d opened her door last night. Maybe she kept mace under the counter. If she had a stun gun, she hadn’t needed it. He’d felt hypnotized at first sight.

  Summer Matthews had hazel eyes and curves in all the right places. She was a pretty woman, and he knew his way around pretty women. He didn’t understand them, God no, but he knew when a woman wanted what he wanted.

  Summer was interested. She just wasn’t acting on it. The question was, why? She wasn’t wearing a ring, and she was no prude. Nobody with a voice that sultry and a mind that bright was shy and unsure of herself.

  She was refreshing and intriguing. Deep inside him, that taut spring unwound a little more.

  “If I were flirting with you,” he said huskily, “you’d know it.”

  Her gaze went to his mouth, but instead of continuing the flirtation, she named the amount for last night’s stay. His interest climbed another notch, and so did his regard for her.

  He liked a woman who could keep her wits about her.

  He wished he had enough time to turn those astute eyes starry, to run his hands along her graceful shoulders and feel her arms slowly wind around his neck as her lips parted for his kiss. Unfortunately he was out of time to do more than say, “I’m meeting my brother and future sister-in-law for lunch. After that I have a plane to catch, but I wanted to pay for my room before I leave town.”

  Pocketing the cash he gave her, she said, “It’s not every day a girl meets an honest man.”

  And then she did something, and there was no turning back. She smiled as if she meant it.

  Kyle couldn’t help reaching for her any more than he could help drawing his next breath. He covered her mouth with his, before either of them thought to resist.

  After that first brush of lips and air, the kiss deepened, breaths mingling, pulse rates climbing. It was a possessive joining, a mating of mouths and heat and hunger. It didn’t matter that it was broad daylight, that he had to leave in a few minutes or that he barely knew her. He kissed her because he had to. It was primal, and it was powerful, and, when her mouth opened slightly, he wanted more. He wanted everything.

  He’d imagined her body going pliant—he had a damned fine imagination—but it was nothing compared to the reality in his arms. Her hands came around his back, then glided up to his shoulders. She moved against him, and he held her tighter, melding them together from knees to chest.

  Somewhere in the back of Summer’s mind, warning bells were clanging. She was crazy to be doing this, to be starting something with a man in his field, this man in particular. Doing so was risking discovery. And yet she couldn’t seem to help herself. She couldn’t stop. She had to experience Kyle’s kiss. She needed to know she could feel this way.

  Last night when she should have been sleeping, her eyes had been wide open. Now, they closed dreamily, so that she had to rely on her other senses. Her other senses were floating on a serenade of sound, heat and passion.

  His mouth was firm and wet, his breathing deep, his scent clean and brisk like mint and leather. The combination made her heart speed up and her thoughts slow like a lazy river on a sultry summer day. His arms and back were muscular, his legs solid and long. It had been a long time since she’d been kissed like this, since she’d reacted like this. Had she ever been kissed quite like this?

  Her back arched, her body seeking closer contact even though they couldn’t get any closer through their clothes. Until this moment, they’d been strangers. His kiss changed that, and it was spinning out of control. Control was the last thing she wanted, for passion this strong didn’t come along every day.

  She felt like a balloon held gently between a pair of firm lips, waiting to see if another puff of air would fill her, transforming her, or if those lips would withdraw, sending her careening backwards. The air was Kyle Merrick. Therein lay the risk.

  She reminded herself that he was leaving town today, and if she ever saw him again, it would be on rare occasions and only because he was going to be Madeline’s brother-in-law. Such meetings would be entirely controllable. It made this feel less dangerous, less likely to be something she would regret. And so, for a few moments, she let herself feel, let herself react, let herself go. And go and go.

  For the first time in a long time, she felt like herself. And it felt good.

  She felt free.

  The kiss didn’t end on a need for air. It ended with the sudden jarring and incessant ringing of both their phones.

  Hers stopped before she could think clearly enough to answer. It went to voice mail, only to start up again. Whoever was calling was insistent. Kyle’s caller was just as determined.

  They drew apart, their eyes glazed, mouths wet, breathing ragged. She let her arms fall to her sides. Dazedly, he raked his fingers through his dark hair.

  Moving more languidly than usual, as if her hands were having trouble picking up signals from her brain, she finally reached for her cell phone and answered. Normally Summer began speaking the moment she put the phone to her ear. Today, Madeline did that from the other end.

  “What?” Summer asked. “Honey, slow down.” Although vaguely aware of the low drone of Kyle’s voice, too, Summer listened intently to what Madeline was saying. “Of course I’ll come. I’ll be right there,” she said.

  Summer was aware that Kyle had pocketed his phone and was watching her. “That was Riley,” he said. “I was planning to meet him and Madeline for lunch. He had to cancel.”

  She glanced at him as she dropped her phone into her bag and fished inside for her keys. “I know. My call was from Madeline.”

  He watched her, waiting for her to say more. When she didn’t, he said, “Riley said it’s possible she’s losing the baby.”

  Summer studied his eyes. Only a few people knew Madeline was pregnant. “Riley told you about the baby?”

  This time Kyle nodded. “When I saw him this morning, he was happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.”

  “Madeline, too,” she said quietly.

  Summer wanted to shake her fist at fate and demand that this work out for Madeline. She’d already lost so much. Now she’d found Riley, and she was happy. Happy. Was it too much to ask that she could stay that way?

  “Dammit all to hell,” Kyle said.

  Summer wasn’t a crier, but tears welled because, for a few moments, she understood. They both felt frustrated and helpless over Madeline’s possible medical emergency. Maybe what they said was true. Maybe there was strength in numbers, because she suddenly felt empowered. It went straight to her head. From there, it meandered to places she didn’t normally think about in the light of day.

  Dresses were her usual work attire. The sleeveless, gray dress she wore today had a fitte
d waistband and a softly gathered skirt. It wasn’t formfitting, yet she was very aware of the places along her body where the lightweight fabric skimmed.

  She felt Kyle’s gaze move slowly over her, settling momentarily at the little indentation at the base of her neck. It was all she could do to keep from placing her hand where he was looking, for she could feel the soft fluttering of her pulse at her throat. She’d learned to school her expressions, but that little vein had a mind of its own.

  Last night, she’d blamed this attraction on the storm. Everybody knew people did crazy things during atmospheric disturbances. Kyle’s kiss a few minutes ago had created its own atmospheric disturbance.

  But right now, Madeline needed her.

  So Summer reeled in her thoughts, tamped down her passion and said, “I don’t like to be rude, but I have to go.” A handshake seemed a little formal after that kiss, so she settled on a smile. “It was nice meeting you. I mean that. Have a good flight.”

  Even though it was handled politely, Kyle knew when he was being asked to leave. Since he had no legitimate reason to hang around—he did have a plane to catch after all—he walked out with Summer.

  She headed for a blue sedan, and he started toward the lilac hedge in full bloom near where he’d left his Jeep. Pea gravel crunched beneath his shoes. He wasn’t sure what made him turn around and look at her. Perhaps it was the same thing that caused her to glance over her shoulder at him at the same time. Whatever the reason, it felt elemental and as fundamental as the pull of a man to a woman and a woman to a man.

  Just then, a gust of wind caught in her hair and dress. And it struck him that he’d seen her before.

  He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it. He scanned his memory, trying to identify the reason she seemed familiar.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, obviously in a hurry to be on her way.

  Deciding this wasn’t the time or place to play twenty questions, he simply said, “No. You have to go. Good luck. Tell Riley I’ll be in touch.”

  She drove away, and he finally got in his Jeep. Instead of starting the engine, he sat behind the steering wheel, thinking. The sensible thing to do would be to turn the key and head for the airport to catch his two o’clock flight to L.A.

  Leaving the engine idling, he slipped his laptop from its case and turned it on. He typed Summer’s name at the top of his favorite search engine. There were thousands of matches, among them a semi-famous opera singer, a retired drummer from a sixties rock band, and a teacher in Cleveland. There was even a racehorse by that name. Kyle tried another search engine and found an article archived from a local newspaper that listed Summer as the innkeeper of The Orchard Inn.

  Minutes later he turned his computer off. Now what?

  He wondered what was happening in the Emergency Room. He’d spent days on end at the hospital two years ago when Riley had been so close to death. Riley hadn’t asked Kyle to come this time, which was fine with him. Female troubles made all men squeamish. Besides, this was intimate. It was something that was between Riley and Madeline and Madeline’s closest friend. That brought Kyle back to Summer.

  He was pretty sure he’d never met her. He would have remembered an actual encounter. As he sat strumming his fingers on the armrest, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something.

  What?

  She hadn’t looked familiar until a few moments ago. Did she remind him of someone else? Was that it?

  His mind circled around a few possibilities then discarded them. No, she didn’t look like anyone he knew. He would have noticed that earlier.

  But she was familiar. Although he didn’t know where or when, he’d seen her before.

  Kyle Merrick never forgot a face.

  Chapter Three

  The founding fathers of Orchard Hill were an unlikely trio of entrepreneurs from upstate New York. One was said to have been a charming shyster who convinced his business associates back home that wealth awaited them “in the green hills of a promised land.”

  According to local historians, among the first arrivals were a prominent banker and his wife, who took one look at the crudely built clapboard houses in the village and the surrounding mosquito-infested ramshackle farms and fainted dead away. The second founding father was a botanist who, through much trial and error, developed three species of apples still widely grown in the local orchards today. The third was considered to be a simpleton by his aristocratic parents. This so-called dunce proved to be a man of great wisdom and ambition who eventually established The Orchard Hill Academy, now the University of Orchard Hill.

  Historical tidbits were strange things for Summer to be thinking about as she waited at the traffic light at the corner of Jefferson and Elm, but it took her mind off worrying about Madeline or wondering if she’d really glimpsed a momentary recognition in Kyle Merrick’s gaze as she was leaving the inn. She gripped the steering wheel and told herself not to jump to conclusions.

  He couldn’t have recognized her.

  It was possible he’d seen her photograph in the newspapers six years ago. But she’d been younger then, and blond, and had been wearing a frothy veil and a wedding gown made of acres of silk.

  He hadn’t recognized her.

  How could he? She barely recognized the girl she’d been then.

  More than likely, what she’d thought was a fleeting recognition in Kyle’s green eyes had simply been a conscious effort to coax the blood back into his brain after that kiss. She pried the fingers of her right hand from the steering wheel and gently touched her lips. He wasn’t the only one still recovering.

  Enough. They’d enjoyed a brief flirtation. Not mild, mind you, but brief. That was all it was. She had nothing to worry about. He was most likely on his way to the airport this very minute to pursue more pressing stories than a rehash of old news, even if that old news was Baltimore’s most notorious runaway bride.

  She and Kyle had said their good-byes. Or at least she had. She tried to remember how he’d replied.

  “Good luck,” he’d said as they’d parted ways. And everybody knew good luck was as good as goodbye.

  She jumped when a horn blasted. People in Orchard Hill didn’t generally honk their horn, which meant she’d probably been sitting at the green light longer than she should. Smiling apologetically in her rearview mirror at the poor driver behind her, she quickly took her foot off the brake and continued on toward the hospital across town.

  Roughly seven square miles, Orchard Hill was a city of nearly twenty-five thousand residents. The streets curved and intersected in undulating juxtaposition to the bends in the river. A state highway bisected the city from east to west, but even that was riddled with stoplights. She’d learned to drive in congested city traffic. She’d learned patience here.

  She had to wait a few minutes while a crew wearing hard hats moved a newly fallen tree limb out of the intersection. A few blocks farther down the street a delivery man threw his flashing lights on and left his truck idling in the middle of Division Street. Hosanna chimed from the bell tower as it did every day at half past eleven.

  It really was just an ordinary May morning in Orchard Hill. The normalcy of it was like a cool drink of lemonade, refreshing and calming at the same time.

  While she waited at another red light she found herself staring at the ten foot tall statue on her left. Nobody could agree where the bronzed figure came from, or how long it had stood on the courthouse lawn.

  Summer remembered vividly the first time she’d seen it more than six years ago. She’d been lost and nearly out of gas that day when she’d coasted to a stop at the curb. So exhausted that the lines and words on the road map in her hand swam before her eyes, she’d found herself gazing out the window at a whimsical figure at the head of a town square.

  Most cities reserved a place of such importance for cannons and monuments and statues of decorated war heroes on mighty steeds, but that day she was drawn from her car by a larger-than-life replica of a fel
low with holes in his shoes, bowed legs, patched trousers, and a dented kettle on his head. Johnny Appleseed was her first acquaintance in Orchard Hill.

  She’d stood beside the statue and taken a deep breath of air scented with ripe apples and autumn leaves. Above the golden treetops in the distance she saw a smoke stack from a small factory, a water tower and several church spires. Somewhere, a marching band was practicing, and there were dog walkers on the sidewalks of what appeared to be a busy downtown.

  It had been too early for streetlights, but lamps had glowed in the windows of some of the shops lining the street. Fixing her gaze straight ahead, she’d walked away from her unlocked car, leaving her ATM and credit cards in plain view on the seat inside. A thief wouldn’t get far with any of them, for all her cards had been cancelled.

  Nobody duped Winston Emerson Matthews the Third without consequences, not even his daughter. Especially not his daughter.

  She’d entered the first restaurant she came to and sat at a small table. A blond waitress a few years younger than Summer had appeared with a menu and a smile. Nearly overtaken with the enormity and finality of her recent actions, Summer stared into the girl’s friendly blue eyes and blurted, “Ten days ago I left a rich and powerful man at the altar. My father has disinherited me and all I have left in my purse is ten dollars and some change.”

  After a moment of quiet deliberation, the waitress had replied, “I’d recommend Roxy’s Superman Special.” In a whisper, she added, “It’s a savory chicken potpie. Roxy makes it from scratch. Her crusts alone could win awards.”

  Something had passed between their gazes. Summer’s eyes filled up, and all she could do was nod.

  “I’ll be right back.” The angelic waitress had soon returned, a plate in each hand. She sat down across from Summer and shook out her napkin. “I’m Madeline Sullivan,” she said, handing Summer a fork and napkin and picking up another set for herself. “Welcome to Orchard Hill.”