Authors: Kerry Connor
Meredith looked down at the drawing,
and Jillian saw her wince as she took it in. The line could be erased, but it would take part of the image with it. It would take some work to put it back the way it had been, if she even could.
“No, it’s all right,” Meredith said. “I tend to get lost in my head when I’m working on something. I should have heard you come in. But, yes, I wanted to show you a few ideas I had and I thought these
might make it easier to visualize what I had in mind when you saw the ballroom. And then I forgot one I particularly liked and had to go back for it and...” She fluttered a hand helplessly.
And I fell down the stairs,
Jillian finished for her. So it hadn’t just been a ploy by Grace or Meredith to get her up there. Meredith had had a perfectly reasonable explanation, or at least an excuse
for one.
If it was true, then Meredith likely wouldn’t have been in the west wing when Jillian was pushed. She would have been in the east wing, where the bedrooms were. Jillian thought back to the moments after she’d fallen, when she’d come to a stop on the landing where the staircase split in two and seen Meredith at the top of the stairs. She’d thought Meredith had been at the top of the
stairs to the west wing, where the person who’d pushed her would have been standing. Was it possible she’d gotten turned around in the fall and been looking up at the top of the stairs to the east wing instead without realizing it? It would also explain why Meredith hadn’t seen who pushed her, if she hadn’t done it herself.
Jillian tried to remember what the rest of the scene had looked like,
where the railing had been—on the right or the left?—but she couldn’t bring the image into focus. She’d been so dazed after the fall, the only thing she’d seen clearly was Meredith.
Not quite ready to dismiss her suspicions entirely, Jillian sank into the chair to Meredith’s right. “You’re really good,” she noted, nodding toward the drawing.
Meredith automatically shook her head. “I
don’t know about that.”
“Well, I do, and I’m not just saying that. You have a lot of talent.”
Quickly moving to cover the drawing with a blank sheet of paper, Meredith smiled thinly. “Thank you.”
“Have you done any drawing professionally, or considered exploring it?”
Meredith shook her head harder, more adamant this time. “Oh, no. I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
The question
seemed to pull her up short. “Um, my hand,” Meredith said weakly. Jillian glanced down, finally noticing the woman was flexing her fingers. “I...broke it. The bones didn’t heal quite right and it still hurts, especially when I try writing with it.”
“But you can still draw?”
Meredith grimaced. “No, it hurts to draw for too long, but I can’t seem to stop. No matter how much it hurts, I
just have to keep doing it.” She laughed faintly. “I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of stupidity.”
“Or passion,” Jillian suggested. “It’s in your bones so much you can’t let it go.”
“I guess that’s a nicer way to think of it,” Meredith said, a wistful note in the words. With a sigh, she flexed her hand again, drawing her fingers into her palm and slowly straightening them. Even
as she did it, Jillian noticed it took her some effort to do so and the motion wasn’t smooth.
Curious, Jillian automatically reached out to take Meredith’s hand without thinking.
Meredith immediately flinched, jerking back with a force that threatened to knock her chair out from under her. Jillian froze. Meredith’s whole body was tense, her eyes wide with fear, as though she was being
attacked.
“I—I’m sorry,” Meredith said, swallowing deeply. She placed her hands flat on the tabletop, and Jillian could see her arms still shook slightly. “You startled me.”
And Jillian immediately understood, all the pieces clicking into place. Meredith’s skittishness. The way she always held herself defensively. Adam’s protectiveness toward his sister. It wasn’t just about a wedding
business or the fact that a mysterious death had taken place and threatened to derail what they’d worked for.
Someone had hurt this woman.
And not just once. As Jillian watched, Meredith’s shoulders hunched inward slightly, as though preparing to ward off a blow. The posture was instinctive, as ingrained in her bones as the need to draw.
“How did you break your hand?” Jillian asked
quietly. She knew it was none of her business, but couldn’t stop the question from coming out, couldn’t keep from wanting to know.
Meredith swallowed hard, not meeting Jillian’s eyes, her gaze fixed on the tabletop. Jillian wondered if she was going to answer, and was about to apologize when Meredith finally did.
“My husband...had a temper.” She exhaled sharply, the breath emerging almost
as a humorless laugh. “And I couldn’t seem to do anything right, no matter how hard I tried.”
The words only confirmed Jillian’s suspicions. Sympathy and a trace of guilt welled in her chest, at what the woman had clearly been through and how Jillian had misinterpreted her behavior. “I’m sorry,” she said, meaning it. “But I’m glad you’re not in that situation anymore. That must have taken
a lot of strength.”
Meredith smiled faintly. “It did, but not mine. Adam saved me, when I couldn’t save myself. He feels guilty for not knowing anything was happening, for not doing anything sooner. Which is ridiculous, of course. The only person responsible for me is me. How could he be to blame for not saving me when I couldn’t save myself?”
And there it was, everything she needed
to know to unlock the mystery that was Adam Sutton.
Of course he would go along with his sister’s dream to open this place for weddings. Of course he would give up his career to do that for her. Of course he would refuse to let anyone speak ill of her, or do anything to hurt her.
That was the man he was.
“You’re lucky to have him,” Jillian said softly.
“I know.”
“I’m a
little surprised you’d want to have anything to do with marriage and weddings after going through that.”
“If anything, I think I needed it. The idea of seeing happy couples on one of the best days of their lives...I could use that. It would be nice to be reminded that love does exist and people can be happy, you know?” She finally raised her head and met Jillian’s eyes. “Like you and Ryan.”
This time it was pure guilt—sharp and painful—that struck squarely in Jillian’s chest. She had absolutely no idea what to say.
“I’m sorry,” Meredith said, misreading Jillian’s silence. “You’re here to plan your wedding. I’m sure this is the last thing you want to hear about. Not that you have anything to worry about. Even without having met him, I know your fiancé has to be a good man.
I know you wouldn’t pick anyone who didn’t deserve you. You’re too strong for that. You’re going to be happy. I know it.”
It was Jillian’s turn to force a smile, her heart sinking at the kindness—the hope—shining in the woman’s eyes. All of which was based on a lie.
Oh, God. When Meredith learned the truth she was going to be crushed.
The suspicious part of her, which couldn’t forget
what had happened to Courtney, and what had happened to Jillian herself over the past few days, prodded at the back of her brain, forcing her to consider the possibilities the new information raised. If anything, this might give Meredith some kind of twisted motive, leading her to take out the pain of what was done to her on other couples....
But looking into the woman’s eyes, Jillian knew
deep in her heart it couldn’t possibly be true. There was too much kindness, too much hope, in her expression. She really did want to believe in that kind of happiness. She wouldn’t do anything to destroy it.
Whatever had happened to Courtney, whoever had attacked Jillian, this woman wasn’t responsible.
It meant she could trust Adam, Jillian realized, relief crashing over her. Knowing
all of this put the man and his actions in a whole new light.
Of course it was possible he, too, might still have some unknown motive to go after women who were about to be married. But even if he did, she simply didn’t believe he would do that here, under these circumstances. He never would have killed Courtney, never would have tried to do anything to her. He wouldn’t have done that to
Meredith. He knew how much this wedding business meant to her, and she meant too much to him.
Which meant, exactly as he’d told her from the beginning, he wasn’t going to be happy about how Jillian had lied.
Neither would Meredith. But while her brother would be angry, it was Meredith’s response Jillian suddenly dreaded more.
She needed to talk to Adam. She needed to tell him the
truth.
She could start here, of course. Meredith was sitting right in front of her, still smiling at her.
Jillian couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth.
She was enough of a coward that she would rather face Adam Sutton’s rage than break his sister’s heart.
Chapter Twelve
Thunder rumbled outside, the sound vibrating the window at Adam’s back. The storm was picking up.
The dismal weather perfectly matched his mood. Adam stared at the papers on the desk in front of him without seeing them. He needed to focus, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t.
No, he was doing exactly what he’d done for the past hour—stewing over
Jillian Jones.
It was bad enough that he was attracted to a woman whom he didn’t trust, whose motives for being here he didn’t believe, or who, if she was telling the truth, might be engaged. But the idea she could be unhinged enough to think Meredith had pushed her down the stairs made the fact that he still couldn’t get her out of his head even worse.
The way she’d felt in his arms.
The way she’d looked lying on the bed, peering up at him from the pillows.
The way she’d looked accusing his sister of trying to hurt her.
Damn it.
He had to get her out of here. Now more than ever.
He was making another attempt at forcing the words in front of him to make sense when someone knocked on the door.
Thankful for the distraction, he glanced up from the desk.
“Come in.”
In the split second before the door opened, he realized it was her. Somehow he’d managed to become that ridiculously attuned to the woman in such a short amount of time.
As expected, she poked her head in, the sight of her face sending his pulse up a notch, then slid all the way inside, closing the door behind her back. Immediately the room seemed smaller, too confined. “I
need to talk to you.”
He rose from the desk. “All right. Why don’t we go out—?”
“No,” Jillian said, stepping forward as he rounded the desk to move for the door. “Here. I need to talk to you alone.”
He stopped, eyeing the woman before him and the door behind her, which suddenly looked very far away. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
The corners of her mouth quirked slightly.
“Am I that scary to be around?”
“I’m just not sure how appropriate it is.”
The smile fading, she stopped a few feet away and squared her shoulders, looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not engaged. I’m not getting married. I never was. That’s not why I’m here.”
It took a few seconds for the words to register. He could only stare at her dumbly at first.
Then a thousand different
emotions exploded inside him all at once. Disbelief. Anger. Triumph. Relief.
A sudden, ridiculous jolt of something that felt like...
joy.
Anger. He’d go with anger. For doing this to Meredith. For wasting her time.
In a heartbeat, every inch of his body had tensed with barely contained fury. Damn it, he’d known it all along. It took everything he had not to yell. He managed to force
out a tight, restrained “Get out.”
“No,” she said without blinking or moving a muscle. “Not until I get what I came for.”
“And what the hell is that?”
“The truth. Courtney Miller was my best friend. I’m here to find out what happened to her.”
He hadn’t expected anything she said to stop him cold again, but once again he was struck dumb.
Oh, hell.
The anger weakened slightly
as a twinge of sympathy struck. All right, so she was grief-stricken. He could somewhat understand the lies, even if he couldn’t excuse them.
“Your friend died in a tragic accident—”
“No, she didn’t,” she said furiously, for the first time displaying an anger that rivaled his own. “Courtney was afraid of heights. She never would have been out on that balcony. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Seeing the emotion bursting from her almost tempered his fury toward her completely. Clearly she wasn’t lying about her relationship to Courtney Miller. The woman had obviously meant a great deal to her. But that didn’t change the facts.
He gentled his tone further. “I’m sorry, Jillian, but it’s the only explanation that does make sense.”
“No, it’s not. Courtney was murdered.”
He swallowed a sigh. “That’s ridiculous—”
“Really? Are you going to try to convince me that all the things that have happened to me since I’ve gotten here didn’t happen, either?”
“You mean falling down the stairs?” he said, unable to hold back his disbelief at the story she’d told him, her accusations toward Meredith.
“I was pushed,” she said through gritted teeth.
“By Meredith?”
“No,” she said. “I talked to her. She told me about...her marriage. Why this business means so much to her. I don’t believe she’d jeopardize that. It wasn’t her.”
Any relief he might have felt at her withdrawal of that ridiculous accusation was overruled by fresh anger that she’d forced Meredith to talk about that bastard. “Then who?”
“The same person who tried to suffocate me in
my sleep two nights ago. I fought them off, but they managed to get in and out of my room unnoticed. That’s what made me decide to start looking for hidden passageways around here.”
Adam frowned, doubt tempering the instinctive outrage that someone would do that to her. “Are you sure you weren’t just dreaming?”
“I know I wasn’t,” she said firmly, her voice ringing with conviction.
“Why didn’t you say something before?”
“I figured if I said someone attacked me in my room, you’d expect me to want to leave, and I didn’t know how to explain that I wasn’t going anywhere.”
“Why not explain the truth about who you are and what you were doing here? If you’re right, how long were you willing to put your life at risk before saying something?”
“As long as I had to.
I didn’t know if I could trust you, and I couldn’t afford to have you make me leave, not before I knew the truth.”
“Then why are you telling me now?”
“Because of what Meredith told me. I finally understand why you’re here, why you decided to open Sutton Hall for weddings with Meredith. I don’t believe you would do anything to jeopardize her dream. Which means you can’t be responsible
for any of this.”
She’d thought
he
could be a killer? The idea stung, maybe more than it should considering he’d thought she was a liar.
“I could still make you leave.” Was still
going
to.
“No, you won’t.”
With anyone else, he would have been amazed at the certainty in her voice in challenging him. With this woman, all he felt was a reluctant admiration at her audacity. He
arched a brow. “Oh, really? And why not?”
“Because you have just as much reason to want to get to the truth as I do. You’re right, there’s someone here who can hurt Meredith, but it’s not me. As long as there’s someone on the loose at Sutton Hall who’s this dangerous, Meredith’s dream won’t come true. And people have already been hurt. Someone murdered Courtney, and they’ve been targeting
me since I’ve gotten here. There won’t be any weddings at Sutton Hall, not as long as someone is attacking any bride who comes here.”
“But why would somebody do that?”
“They obviously don’t want anyone getting married here.”
“For what reason? Everyone who works here needs this business to succeed to keep this place up and running or we’ll probably have to sell.”
“I don’t know.
That’s what I’m trying to find out. It’s what you should be trying to figure out. So help me. Let’s work together.”
“Assuming that you’re right, I can try to solve this myself. I don’t need you here, especially if you are right and someone has been attacking you.”
“How will you explain to Meredith why I’m leaving? That she can’t have any more weddings here? Or will you even bother? Would
you let some other couple come here and put their lives at risk? Or are you hoping no one else will come?”
“What are you suggesting?” he challenged, even though he knew perfectly well. That didn’t mean he liked it, or believed it for a second.
Didn’t he?
some small part of him asked.
“Let’s set a trap. This person is already coming after me. Let’s catch them in the act. Let’s catch
them.
”
He could only stare at her in astonishment, unable to believe what she was proposing. Then again, this was her. He could believe it all too well, and he knew without a doubt she meant every word. “You’re out of your mind.”
“No, I’m not.”
“If you think I’m going to let you put yourself in danger like this, you are.”
“I’m already in danger. I only want to use that to my
advantage and catch this bastard.”
“If you’re right, then we’re dealing with someone who’s seriously deranged. You can’t predict how someone like that will behave. You won’t have an advantage.”
“I’ve told you from the start I can take care of myself. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Well, clearly someone needs to!”
“I don’t need you to protect me. I’m not your sister!”
The idea was so ridiculous a laugh burst from his throat. “Trust me, I definitely don’t think you’re my sister.”
“Then don’t treat me like it!”
She threw the words out like a gauntlet, the challenge impossible to resist, tearing down the last bit of resistance to what he’d wanted to do for so long.
And there was only one thing he could do.
He surged forward, erasing that
last, irrevocable step between them, and captured her face in his hands, taking her mouth with his.
* * *
I
N
THE
LAST
few seconds before he kissed her, before he touched her, before he erased what little distance remained between their bodies, Jillian felt no surprise. Deep down, she’d known it was coming, had been waiting for it. With every ounce of tension building from the pit of
her stomach and gripping her body, with every bit of awareness racing along her nerve endings and electrifying her skin, she’d known. There was only one place this had been leading to, only one place it could possibly go.
And then, finally, amazingly, it happened.
He was right in front of her, no space separating them. His hands were cupping her face, pulling her toward him.
And
his mouth was on hers.
He devoured her, his lips firm and hot and insistent as they worked against her own. Their mouths mashed together furiously, desperately, hungrily. Every stroke of his tongue, every brush of his lips, just made her want more. Of this. Of him. And from the way he met her every inch of the way, deepening the kiss second by second, she could tell he felt the same.
A giddy rush of delight spiraled through her. It seemed as if she’d been waiting to kiss this man forever, maybe from the first time she’d seen him coming down the main stairs. And now it was happening. Now his lips were on hers, his tongue sliding against her own, teasing and toying and tasting her. Now she knew what he felt like, tasted like. Her hands grabbed at his chest, for something to hold
on to, to pull him close. She caught two fistfuls of his sweater and held him tighter to her, wanting every bit of him against her, needing him as near as he could possibly be.
He tore his mouth from hers just long enough to murmur, “This is crazy.”
“I know.”
He chuckled. His mouth back against hers, she felt it vibrate through him and into her. “My God, you’re the most infuriating
woman I’ve ever met in my entire life.”
It was her turn to laugh. “You’re not exactly an easy case yourself.”
“Guilty.”
Beneath her hands she could feel his heart pounding, feel the hardness of his chest, the heat radiating from him. And she instantly wanted more. Needed more. Needed to feel his hot skin against hers. Needed to feel his arms wrapped around her. Needed to feel his
heart pounding against his chest, the insistent rhythm vibrating through his skin and into hers.
He suddenly pulled away, robbing her of that precious heat. “I have to ask—”
“What?” she demanded, staring at his mouth, wishing it was on her.
“The man in the pictures with you. Your ‘fiancé.’ Is he...?”
“Just a friend.” A chuckle eased from her lungs. “And very gay.”
He matched
her laugh. “Good.”
And then his mouth was back on hers.
They tore at each other’s clothes, sweaters pulled over heads, pants released and shoved aside, her bra dispensed with, his boxers kicked off. And in between, they stole every touch they could. She ran her fingertips over his abs, his side, his chest and arms. His fingers brushed over her breasts and nipples, skimming down her belly,
scorching a trail over her skin everywhere they touched her and making her tingle from head to toe.
She’d never met a man she moved in such perfect sync with. There was no awkwardness to their movements, no clumsiness as they tried to match each other’s actions. They simply seemed to fall into an easy rhythm, recognizing exactly where they needed to be, where they each should move to be there
to respond in time or shift out of the way.
His fingers hooked into her panties and shoved them down. She barely managed to shimmy out of them before his hands were at her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there, scorching her skin. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and lifted her up onto the edge of the desk.
She braced her hands there as he pulled away, reaching
for his pants on the floor. She didn’t take her eyes off of him, drinking in the sight of him, his firm buttocks flexing as he walked, his muscles shifting beneath taut skin. He was beautiful. There was no other word for it, for him. His body was lean and tight. A light layer of dark hair dusted his chest and the ridges of his belly, trailing lower from his belly button to where the proof of his
arousal rose from his body, hard and thick and pulsing.
Digging into his wallet, he came up with a condom. Within seconds he had the package ripped open and covered himself. He turned back to her, taking one step before suddenly stopping, his eyes feasting on her. And as she watched the pure male appreciation play across his face, she’d never felt more desirable, or more desired.
Then
he was back in front of her, his erection jutting forward, leading the way to her. His hands returned to her hips, the tip of his arousal unerringly finding her folds, primed to receive him, needing him inside her.