Only Hers (21 page)

Shannon took her seat and said grace for them. Without glancing across the table at Matt, she picked up her fork. So much for waiting to share dinner with him. He didn’t notice her any more than he usually did. Nor did he notice the wildflowers she had picked for the table. He would be glad to see her leave.

Perhaps that would be for the best.

“Aren’t you hungry or are you one of those people who eats while they cook?”

Her hand paused on cutting another floret from the broccoli stalk. Gathering her fraying courage, she finally glanced up. “I guess I’m just tired.”

“From doing what?” he asked, cutting into the second pork chop on his plate.

She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“All you did was go grocery shopping and cook.” He forked the pork chop into his mouth and reached for a biscuit. There had been seven on the plate. Only four remained.

Shannon snatched the plate away from his questing fingers. “Let me have another one before you put more on.”

“I have no intention of putting any more on.” She stood and reached for his plate. “In fact, the kitchen is closed.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be,” Shannon said, incensed he thought so little of all her time and effort. Learning how to cook had been as much of a requirement as etiquette in her house. A meal to her practical-minded mother was more than nourishment, it was a necessary business asset.

At a well-appointed table set with sparkling crystal, polished silver and fresh flowers, careers were advanced, deals made, lifelong friendships cemented, tempers and hurt feelings soothed. Apparently, her mother had yet to meet a man like Matt Taggart.

“If you hurry you can get to the grocery store before it closes, then come back and peel onions, chop celery, bake cornbread for your stuffing, make biscuits, wash broccoli. Shall I continue?”

Matt noticed the glint in her eyes and knew he had better be careful how he answered her question if he wanted his dinner back. With one wrong word, she’d have his hide and his supper. Cleve was right, the woman could burn.

Cleve.

“This is how Cleve got into trouble at the grocery store, isn’t it?”

The glint in her eyes brightened.

Matt looked from Shannon’s rigid stance to his plate. He probably could put together a meal, but he wanted his pork chops. “Octavia expected you to feed me.”

“She suggested leftovers.”

Matt wondered if he could get to her plate before she could, then dismissed the idea. No self-respecting man would fight over food . . . unless he hadn’t eaten more than a couple of mouthfuls in the last twenty-four hours.

He scowled. Shannon’s fault again. He hadn’t been able to eat breakfast because he had been worried about her. Now, she wanted to deprive him of his dinner.

Just like I deprived her of breakfast.

“Is this your way of getting back at me for this morning?”

“No. This is for your chauvinistic attitude toward women doing house work,” Shannon told him. “Your mother would probably brain you with a frying pan if she were here.”

Matt flushed. There was no
probably
to it. From his earliest memories, everyone in the Taggart family had shared the household duties. He still remembered hiding the mop when one of the guys had dropped by unexpectedly.

“Then you’d have to administer first aid,” Matt said, the corner of his mouth curved upward.

“Oh, you’re incorrigible.” Plopping the platter and the plate back on the table, she turned to leave.

Matt stood. Gentle fingers closed around her arms and brought her to him before she took one step. “Wait.”

“You can make me so angry sometimes.”

“You seem to have the same effect on me.”

“I—I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Something tells me the alternative would only create more problems.” His thumb stroked the smoothness of her forearm and he felt her shiver.

Breathless. She felt breathless and lightheaded. She also felt the blunt hardness of his body against her and,
God help her, she wanted to press closer. Heat zipped through her like lightning, oversensitizing her skin.

Matt wasn’t ignoring her now and neither was his body.
If
she wanted him, all she had to do was step closer, lift her lips to his and . . . step off a precipice.

He offered no guarantees, no happily-ever-after. He offered nothing but an overpowering passion that would probably sear her very soul. Although she had no sexual experience to speak of, she didn’t doubt he would be a magnificent lover, but, God help her, she wanted more, much more.

Fighting herself, fighting need, she glanced away from compelling black eyes that made her ache. “I forgot the salad.”

Callused hands released her before she completed the sentence. “Sit down. I’ll get it.”

Shannon sat. He had a better chance of finding the salad in the well-stocked refrigerator than she did of walking on her shaking legs.

“Which dressing?”

“Th-the vinaigrette. It’s the clear bottle with the green top next to the salad.” Her voice sounded almost normal.

Matt placed both items on the table, then refilled his plate before taking his seat. “Can I get you anything?”

She was as surprised by the question as she was by the total indifference in his eyes, eyes that had earlier seared her soul. Then, she experienced the loss. Her fault. She hadn’t been willing to take a chance.

“No, I’m fine.” Since he continued to watch her, she picked up her fork and began to eat. The food had grown cold. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t tasting it anyway.

The phone rang. She pushed her chair back to answer it. Matt was already up.

“Hello.”

He straightened. Black eyes drilled into her. “Who’s calling?” he asked, his voice harsh.

Dread tripped down her spine as he continued to stare at her.

He held out the phone. “It’s for you.”

She didn’t like the way Matt was looking at her. “Who is it?”

“Lover boy.”

Her brows bunched, then she drew back. “The man from the motel?”

“I forgot, you probably have trouble keeping all of them straight,” he said sarcastically. “I’ll give you a hint. He says you’re engaged.”

“James.”

“Bingo.”

“What?” Shannon cried in disbelief as she ran to the phone and snatched the receiver from Matt.

Heavy black brows arched. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move so fast.”

She sent Matt a quelling glare, then spoke into the phone, “James?”

“Oh, Shannon, it’s so good hearing your voice” came James Harper’s cultured voice. Then it took on a cutting edge he usually reserved for the courtroom. “Who answered the phone? I had to tell the man who I was before he’d put you on.”

“Never mind that. Why did you tell him we’re engaged?” she asked, turning her back on Matt. He could have the decency to leave.

“Now, sweetheart,” James said and laughed cajolingly. “Although it’s not official, everyone knows it’s only a matter of time.”

He was patting her on the head again and making her decisions. Only this time she didn’t like it. She had told James and her family she wanted this time alone with no interference from either of them. Both had a tendency to try and pressure her into doing what they thought best for her. Because she didn’t like arguments, more times than
she liked to remember, she had given in to them. No more. “Then everyone knows more than I do.”

Worry finally sounded in his voice. “I’m sorry if my call upset you, but you know how much I love you. You’ve changed since your grandfather died, become preoccupied. You’ve spent more time at work than with me and now you’re gone again,” he said, accusation creeping into his tone. “If there is a problem, I’m the one you should be with. I want to marry you.”

“James, please, I’ve told you before, I can’t think about marriage now.”

“Darling, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to distress you any further. I know how devastated you’ve been and I didn’t want you to do anything rash.”

“Taking a vacation is hardly rash,” she said. “I told you when I left that I needed some time by myself.”

“I know, but it isn’t like you to be so secretive,” James explained. “I want you to come home.”

Shannon stiffened at his commanding tone. “I’m staying until the end of my vacation.”

“Then I’m coming to you,” he stated flatly.

“Melanie told you where I was?” Shannon asked, astonishment in her voice.

“Not yet,” James said. “But she’s just as worried about you as I am. As is your entire family.”

“Put her on the phone.”

“We haven’t finished talking.”

“Please, James. Now is not the time to try and win an argument.”

A defeated sigh echoed through the line. “All right, but I want to speak with you before you hang up.”

“Shan—” Melanie began.

“I trusted you,” Shannon said, cutting off her best friend.

“He was worried,” Melanie defended. “I had him turn his back while I dialed. He doesn’t know any more than he did five minutes ago.”

“We both know that’s not true.” He knew there was a man with her.

“I told him a married couple ran the lodge where you were staying and the place had only one phone,” Melanie placated. “I just thought you needed to hear from him.”

And remember he was safer than Matt Taggart.

“Melanie, I know you meant well, but you’ve only made matters worse for everyone.”

“Sorry.”

“I am, too.”

“You mad?”

“Because you worried about me? No. Annoyed that you, like everyone else thinks I can’t handle my own life? A little. But you’re my best friend and I love you.”

“I won’t interfere again.”

“Thank you. Now please put James back on.” Shannon cast a glance at Matt who had finally moved a few feet away. Arms folded, legs crossed at the ankle, he leaned against the counter watching her like a hawk watching a mousehole.

“Shannon darling, if I have upset you, please forgive me,” James coaxed. “We’ll talk when you’re up to it.”

So nice, so forgiving . . . so very wrong for her.

Shannon closed her eyes at the thought of what she had to do. She should have been stronger and never let things get this far. For months she had known what she felt for James wasn’t enough. Instead of putting an end to it, she had succumbed to the coercion from both him and her family. She’d had the foolish idea her affection for him would increase with time.

It had taken midnight-black eyes and a voice like subdued thunder to let her know she had deluded both of them.

“It’s all right, James,” she told him softly. Her forehead rested against the wall by the phone. She couldn’t end things between them over the phone. But was it kinder to let him hope or set him free?

Melanie, why couldn’t you have had more faith in me?

“Shannon, are you still there?”

“Yes, James, I was just thinking.”

“Take your time. I’ll be here when you get home,” he told her as if sensing her doubts.

But you’ll never be the man for me
, she wanted to say and knew she couldn’t. How do you explain to a man that when he held you, you felt no more than a faint warmth, not the white-hot heat of a raging inferno? How do you explain to him that it had taken another man to make you realize the difference.

“Yes, James, we’ll talk when I get back.”

“I’ll be waiting for your call.” Relief sounded clearly through the line.

“Just promise me there’ll be no more talk about an engagement. Please.”

“Whatever you want, Shannon,” he assured her.

She heard the swinging door close and glanced around. Matt was gone. “Take care of yourself, James. Please put Melanie back on.”

Her friend came back on the line. “Next time I’m minding my own business.”

“Take care of James. Good-bye.” Gently, Shannon replaced the receiver. As if on cue, Matt reentered the kitchen. If he said one nasty remark, she wasn’t going to be responsible.

“Sit down and eat. Afterward I’ll take you to your meadow. You look like you could use your sleep aid.” When she didn’t move, he crossed the room, took her by the elbow and gently urged her to sit. “I’ll even do the dishes.”

They drove to the meadow in silence.

Every once in a while Matt glanced at his passenger. If she was any stiffer, the next rut they’d hit, she’d break. She had looked so lost in the kitchen that for some inexplicable reason, he had wanted to take her in his arms and offer solace.

He had no idea where that crazy idea had come from,
so he decided to do the only other thing he could think of . . . which was almost as crazy as the first. Despite what she and his uncle thought, the meadow didn’t have any special powers.

He couldn’t see her face clearly in the dark cab, but he didn’t think she was crying. The woman shed more water than a leaky faucet! But after she hung up the phone she looked more melancholy than teary. He pulled out a clean handkerchief and handed it to her just in case he was wrong.

“Thank you.”

Polite. Just the way her conversation had been with Harper. Matt had heard enough of the one-ended conversation to figure out she wasn’t going to marry the guy. Matt didn’t know why the thought pleased him so much or why it had angered him just as much when he thought she was.

He pulled to a stop in front of the cabin, pressed a button to roll down the automatic windows, then turned off the lights and cut the engine.

The scent of wildflowers drifted inside the truck. Through the cypress trees moonlight glinted on the surface of the stream two hundred feet away.

Now that he was here, he felt like an idiot. Women sure had a way of messing with a man’s mind, especially this particular woman sitting next to him. He couldn’t even enjoy his stuffed pork chops for trying to make sure she ate her dinner.

He stilled. Was that a sniff or her shifting on the leather seat? Out of nowhere came the urge again to pull her close.

“How do you do it?”

He frowned and tried to see her face more clearly. “Do what?”

“End a relationship and remain friends?” she asked so quietly he had to lean closer to hear her.

“I’m not sure that you can,” Matt answered honestly. “That’s why I never mix the two. But the longer you stay in one the more difficult it is to break off.”