Wilma waved her hand dismissively. “You’re new grist for the mill, dear.”
“You’ve got us all remembering how our own husbands proposed,” Karen added.
“Actually, I was thinking about your comic strip,” Jean dissented.
Relieved, Brynn turned her attention to the one person who didn’t seem to be enthralled with her love life. “Really? Do you get a chance to read it once in a while?”
“Nope,” Jean replied, then grinned. “I read it every day. And every day I wonder how you come up with so many ideas. I doubt I’d think of enough to last a week.”
“You’d be surprised. Although sometimes it’s easier than others,” she admitted. “My mind isn’t always fertile ground.”
“Mine would reek of fertilizer,” Jean replied drolly.
Brynn laughed. “I’m afraid mine does at times, too.”
Wilma shook her head. “Then where
do
you get your ideas when you run dry?”
Brynn thought of the times she’d brainstormed for new strip ideas by combining Goobers, nachos, housework and a Jane Fonda workout video. But she knew that wasn’t the glamorous answer they were looking for. “Actually, sometimes I turn to real life.”
“Really...” Jean mused.
“Do you use people you know?” Donna asked.
“Occasionally,” Brynn replied cautiously.
“Did Gregory inspire any of your strips?” Karen asked, obviously the true romantic of the group.
Brynn’s sleeping imp stretched and yawned. “Actually, do you remember when Stephanie’s boyfriend took her up in the hot-air balloon?”
Jean laughed. “And she trapped him inside, giving him a choice between proposing and jumping?”
“Exactly. That was based on real life.”
“Of course!” Karen exclaimed. “Because Gregory took you up in a hot-air balloon to propose!”
“I didn’t hear this part,” Cynthia protested.
Wilma quickly filled her in.
“And did you give Gregory the same choice?” Cynthia questioned, torn between being scandalized and excited.
“Of course she did,” Jean answered with airy unconcern.
Brynn laughed at that absurdity, her gaze skipping upward, halting suddenly. Matt stood at a counter not far from them, ostensibly putting stamps on some envelopes. Uneasily, she wondered just how long he’d been standing there.
Matt’s lips tightened and Brynn’s stomach took a queasy turn.
“Of course, not everything’s based on real life,” she rushed to add. “And the strip’s exaggerated.”
“I don’t know. Your relationship with Gregory sounds pretty exciting without embellishment,” Jean commented as she winked.
“I thought you were the cynic,” Brynn tried again, watching Matt out of the corner of her eye.
Jean shrugged. “Most of the time. But even skeptics like me have their moments.”
Matt lifted his head at that moment and Brynn met his gaze. Now
there
was a skeptic. “Well, ladies, I think Matt’s ready to go, son...”
They all turned to him with a few feminine squeals and giggles, and enough chatter to fill their corner of the post office. Apparently, simply being a single man was enough to cause a stir, Brynn realized. That and being so good-looking he’d turn heads anyplace he went. Matt responded graciously, complimenting and charming them each in turn. Only Jean lingered, her expression clearly indicating she’d rather stay—as long as Matt remained.
Brynn watched them both intently, trying to see if the woman’s interest was reciprocated. But Matt put his hand at the base of Brynn’s back, leading her away from Jean. Brynn resisted the urge to look over her shoulder and see what expression remained on Jean’s face.
But in a moment they were out on the sidewalk. Matt nodded to and greeted friends and neighbors as they walked back to the truck, stopping only to buy them both soft drinks from an ancient machine in front of the drugstore. He was so casual, Brynn relaxed her guard, deciding she’d imagined the look on his face.
Once inside the truck, she relaxed further as they rolled down the road, the autumn breeze riffling her hair. Lifting the soda can to her lips, she took a deep swallow.
Matt broke the quiet, staring ahead as the truck picked up speed and he shifted gears. “Tell me, how’d Gregory manage to propose in a hot-air balloon when he’s terrified of heights?”
Spluttering, Brynn all but spat out her cola. The rest of the liquid went down the wrong pipe. Choking and coughing, she gulped for air.
Matt flicked a glance in her direction. “Something I said?”
It took her a few moments to get her voice back, longer to regain her equilibrium. “Ah...no.” She held up her can as a weak defense. “It went down the wrong way.”
“And Gregory? He didn’t bail out of the balloon when it got ten feet off the ground?”
Brynn looked desperately out the window, wishing she could bail out herself. Urgently recalling Stephanie’s ingenious ways. “Well... You see... Gregory wanted to overcome his fear of heights. It’s something he was really working on. First we’d go to the Club at the Top in the Hilton and work on sitting next to the windows.” Her brain scrambled frantically, trying to think of something other than a mountain they could have climbed. “Then we’d go to Lagoon and ride the sky tram across the park.”
“Lagoon?” Matt asked incredulously. “Gregory didn’t even like ‘mini-Disneyland’ when he was a kid.”
“We didn’t go for the amusement factor,” she insisted, wondering when that lightning was going to get her. “Just for the practice of being up that high.”
She dared a glance at him. He was definitely skeptical.
“And then...” She paused. Was her voice getting higher with every lie? “We rode the ski lift at Snowbird to have lunch at the top.”
The look that crossed Matt’s face wasn’t promising.
“I guess that’s what made him decide to propose in the balloon,” she concluded, knowing how lame her story sounded. “Because he’d been working so hard at conquering his fear of heights.”
The silence wasn’t thick; it was impenetrable.
Brynn fiddled with the can in her hands, nearly lifted it to take another swallow, reconsidered and decided it wasn’t worth choking to death to lift the oppressive gloom.
But when Matt did speak, she jumped as his voice broke the quiet. “So Gregory overcame his fear of heights?”
Brynn pushed at her glasses. “Not completely. But then I guess no one ever totally conquers a fear like that.” She resolutely studied the passing scenery, concentrating as though there would be a quiz.
“Sounds like Gregory did a lot of things be never had before.”
“Like I said, love...” She glanced up, meeting Matt’s gaze. There was something there—that same something she’d seen before. Whatever it was, she couldn’t complete the thought, couldn’t put the words between them again.
“Changes people,” he finished for her. “So you said.”
Brynn had the urge to tell him the truth, to explain why she’d carried out the charade, how it had seemed like the right thing to do, but how she now realized it had to stop.
“I guess it’s a good thing it can change people.” This time Matt didn’t meet her gaze. “Otherwise you and Gregory wouldn’t be married. And right now, you’re what’s keeping Dad going. The others, too.” His hands tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll leave the measuring for another day and head back to the lodge, but don’t let on to Dad. I don’t want him deciding he has to help me.”
Brynn’s confession died in her throat. What if she told all and Frank took a turn for the worse? She never should have started the whole charade, but ending it now could be even worse.
RESTLESS AFTER HER fluctuating emotions and verbal games of the afternoon, Brynn roamed the lobby, picked up several magazines, then replaced them without reading a single article. Another phone call to the State Department had proved fruitless. Frank, looking pale had retired after learning there was no news of his eldest son. While the scent of the nearly always burning fireplace was usually comforting, even the gentle embers did little to soothe her. Nor had the hot tea, cocoa and spiced cider. Asking for warm milk was just too embarrassing.
Although a satellite dish provided over a hundred channels to choose from, television didn’t interest her, either. She kept remembering the look in Matt’s eyes, her own response, and the electricity that smoldered between them. It was ridiculous. He was Gregory’s brother. Nothing more. And Gregory was the man she loved, the one she dreamed of, the one she wanted to share her future with. Then why did she keep remembering Matt’s long, tall body, his strong hands, his lionlike eyes, the glint of gold where his hair parted naturally. And why had an ugly spurt of envy clawed her when she’d seen Jean’s interest in him?
None of it was warranted. None of it made sense. She’d pledged her heart to Gregory. With a start Brynn realized she hadn’t opened the wedding album in more than a few days. Actually she couldn’t remember exactly when she’d last pored over it. Worrying about that was silly, she tried to dismiss. She’d simply been caught up in her work, the newness of her surroundings... and Matt MacKenzie.
It was stress, she decided. At home, she walked several miles a day, draining away the tension. She simply hadn’t had enough exercise. A swim perhaps. In the warm mineral-spring pool, then a relaxing soak in the adjoining hot tub.
Just what the doctor ordered, she decided, heading upstairs. The medicinal benefits of genuine mineral water, relaxation under a blanket of stars, and the quiet of a mountain evening.
Ruth had already provided her with a swimsuit. She’d brought it up, along with several pairs of jeans and an assortment of tops and sweaters. And under the cover of darkness, Brynn knew she could be anonymous and unnoticed, both of which appealed to her.
It didn’t take long to change. Brynn glanced at her reflection in shock. The swimsuit was little more than an abbreviated scrap of material. Although she eyed it dubiously, she was driven by her restlessness. Besides, no one would see her in the dark.
Wrapping herself in a thick terry robe, Brynn ventured down the back staircase, glad for the discreet employee exit. Once outside, she felt the chill and shivered briefly in the robe, pulling it close as she continued toward the pool, seeing the steam of the warm water rise into the cool night.
At the edge of the pool, she slipped off her glasses and robe and climbed down the concrete steps, her body sighing at the pleasure of warm bubbling water. She swam laps without counting, pushing her muscles until the relaxation kicked in. Then she flipped onto her back, kicking gently to keep afloat.
The water’s healing force worked its magic. Heavy languor invaded her body, weighing down her limbs, eroding her agitation. No longer feeling a need for the space of the oversize pool and relishing the thought of relaxing in even warmer water, Brynn remembered the nearby hot tubs. In addition to the two large ones on the west side of the pool, there was a smaller tub on the opposite side, one she guessed would be empty since it was situated away from the main traffic. Even that smaller tub had built-in benches for relaxation, ones she could stretch out on. Ones that sounded infinitely appealing.
As she pulled herself from the pool, the shock of cool air chilled her skin. Brynn grabbed her glasses, then walked the short distance to the isolated in-ground hot tub and slid into the small confined space, the mineral water bubbling around her as she searched in the dark for the bench. This was the perfect prescription. Brynn couldn’t remember feeling more relaxed.
She stumbled a bit, having forgotten that the benches were staggered around the perimeter, then reached out to steady herself. Instead of cement, she connected with a firm wall of muscled flesh.
Her serenity fled as she jerked backward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was in here.”
A familiar male voice floated toward her along with billows of steam. “It’s okay.” Then that rich, utterly masculine laugh. She could see Matt’s white teeth flash in the dark. “I don’t bite—very hard.”
Brynn felt awash—literally. Her limited experience with men didn’t include hot tubs. What would Stephanie do? Gulping, Brynn attempted for her character’s flip voice. “And how do I know you’ve had your shots?”
He didn’t reply for a moment and she assumed she’d blown it.
“Guess you’ll have to take your chances.”
A sliver of moonbeam illuminated his face and Brynn drew in an unexpected breath. Surely it wasn’t an invitation she read there. Had her own words or tone been too suggestive?
The sultry heat of the tub pulsed between them. The space was suddenly smaller, unmistakably intimate. And her eyes, accustomed now to the dark, watched the garlands of steam curling around his head. Then her gaze slowly lowered, drifting over his powerful shoulders, the impressive muscles of his broad chest. Her throat dried, she forgot to swallow, and yet she continued to stare.
When she finally raised her eyes back to the level of his, she saw that he was taking an inventory of his own. Feeling every inch the skinny teenager she’d once been, Brynn drew back. As she did, he moved forward, standing in the tub, revealing a lean torso and whipcord-tight abs. Had she thought she wasn’t attracted to the physical sort? She truly had been young and foolish.