Secretly Yours Page 10

  “Wasn’t Roger Jennings the man Lucas was suspected of killing?” Annie asked, proving she’d somehow managed to follow his rather disjointed tale.

  “Yeah. He didn’t do it, of course. Turned out Roger was killed by his uncle, Sam—the same guy who’d killed Josiah’s second wife and the man she was thought to have run off with, Sam’s brother Al.”

  “Uh—?”

  “Long story. Let’s just say that Lucas was fully cleared of any suspicion of murder. He married Rachel and they live in California. His younger half sister, Emily, is married to Chief Davenport. Have you met either of them yet?”

  “No, not yet, but I’ve heard they’re very nice.”

  Trent was fond of his cousin, and had a great deal of respect for the man she had married. “They are.”

  “So that’s it? All the McBride scandals? It didn’t sound so—”

  He cleared his throat, interrupting her. “There have been a few others. Uncle Jonas’s only child, Savannah, was the most popular girl in high school—cheerleader, beauty queen, all that. At sixteen, she ended up pregnant with twins. The father was a football hero who refused to take responsibility and chose to trash Savannah’s reputation instead. The ‘cool crowd’ turned on her, letting all the jealousy they’d been hiding come out. They were vicious to her. She and her mother left town rather than stay here and subject themselves to the talk. Jonas had been dead for several years by then and they were pretty much on their own.”

  “Surely your cousin demanded a blood test. She deserved to get child support, if nothing else.”

  Trent’s mouth twisted wryly. “If there’s one thing my family has always had too much of, it’s pride.”

  “No. Really?”

  Her tone made him glance at her with a grin. “Are you implying you’ve already noticed?”

  “Let’s just say, I’m sure you got your share of that family trait. What happened to Savannah?”

  “She told everyone she wouldn’t force any man to be a father to her children. She and her mother raised those kids for nearly fifteen years by themselves, until Savannah met and married Kit Pace.”

  “Christopher Pace, the author and screenwriter. I’ve heard you have a family connection to him, but I wasn’t sure what it was.”

  “Yeah. She caused a lot of talk again when she married him, because of his fame, but money carries influence around here. She’s been regarded much more kindly lately—except for those who are even more jealous now that she’s married to a successful author. Don’t ever mention her name to April Penny.” He knew April was one of Annie’s clients.

  “Why not?”

  “April’s brother, Vince, is the cowardly jerk who weaseled out of taking responsibility for Savannah’s twins. April was always jealous of Savannah in school, and now it galls her that Savannah’s doing so well while Vince is twice divorced, fifty pounds overweight, living in a trailer and selling used cars. He talks about his high-school football days as the high point of his life, and he still denies being the twins’ father, though everyone who matters knows he’s lying. Not that it’s important now—Michael and Miranda are crazy about Kit, who adopted them a year after he married Savannah.”

  “They say success is the best revenge,” Annie said with satisfaction.

  “Savannah made mistakes, but she took responsibility, paid the price and moved on with her life.”

  “Sounds like a good example to follow,” Annie murmured, and Trent wondered if she was thinking of her own circumstances.

  He muttered, “Yeah. I guess it is.” Now if only he could figure out a way to move on with his own life.

  After a few moments, Annie said, “Well, I can see there have been some juicy tidbits for the gossips to enjoy about your uncles’ families, but your branch of the McBride clan seems perfectly respectable.”

  “For the most part,” he agreed. “My older sister, Tara, was a model teenager, never caused a whisper while she was growing up. Of course, she’s only a few months younger than Savannah, so most of the attention was focused away from Tara then. She went on to college and law school at Harvard, then joined a prestigious firm in Atlanta. Her only brush with scandal was a few years ago when she refused to sign off on a questionable deal her partners were pushing and she got fired. A few weeks later, she became involved with a P.I. who put her in the middle of an insurance-fraud investigation that almost got her killed. The case was safely resolved and Tara married her P.I. and started her own small law firm, so everything turned out okay.”

  “Your brother, Trevor, certainly seems an exemplary citizen.”

  “Trevor’s another overachiever, like Tara. He worked for the State Department in Washington, D.C., for a few years after law school. He moved back here after his first wife, the mother of his two children, was killed in a car accident. There actually was a scandal of some sort connected with Melanie’s death—I’ve always suspected she was somewhere she shouldn’t have been, maybe with someone she shouldn’t have been with—but Trevor doesn’t talk about it. He and Jamie caused some talk when they hooked up—before she moved back to town, she was an offbeat New York actress—but they certainly put most of the talk to rest by the quiet life they’ve led since they married.”

  “So now the gossips are focused on you.”

  Which, Trent acknowledged, was the point of this entire conversation, the reason he’d told her so much about his family. He thought she should know just what being seen with him would entail—just in case they spent any more time together in public after tonight. “Yes. Because everyone else in the family is quietly settled down, the gossips have no one to focus on but me. I can’t imagine what they find so interesting, though.”

  “Can’t you?” she asked softly, her tone sounding rueful.

  Stopped at a red light only a few blocks from the movie theater, he turned his head to look at her. “You know something I don’t?”

  “Nothing I want to share with you at the moment.”

  “Annie—”

  “The light’s green.”

  Frowning, he pressed the accelerator. Maybe it would be best if he didn’t pursue that particular line any further. He had talked enough about himself for one evening—and there were some things he was probably better off not knowing.

  ALL DURING the movie, Annie thought about the things Trent had told her about his family. Her thoughts were so focused on the McBride family history that she hardly paid attention to the story unfolding on the screen.

  It amused her that he couldn’t imagine why the local gossips were so intrigued by him. Former heart-throb jet jockey turned mysterious hermit—of course they were fascinated. And she had to admit she could see why they found it interesting that he’d been seen with her. She was the newcomer in town, probably a bit mysterious to them in her own right, since she’d been deliberately reticent about her own background. In a town where everybody knew everything about everyone, it had to be frustrating that nobody knew anything about her.

  She hadn’t intended to cause any waves in Honoria. But then, she hadn’t expected to meet Trent McBride.

  She glanced sideways in the darkened theater, studying his face in the faint illumination of the flickering movie screen. Fascinating? Most definitely. No wonder people talked…

  He shifted his shoulders, accidentally brushing against her. A jolt of awareness shot through her, causing her to swallow hard. Her mind was suddenly filled with images of being alone with him in another darkened room—her bedroom. This was no way, she told herself sternly, to think about a friend. But sometimes, she thought as his shoulder brushed hers again, she just couldn’t help herself.

  They stopped for burgers after the movie, not lingering long over the simple meal, and their conversation centered primarily around the movie. Annie was glad she had paid enough attention to be able to discuss the plot with some measure of intelligence.

  During the drive home, they talked about her house and the plans she had for it. She doubted that Trent was reall
y all that interested in colors and patterns, but he made positive noises while she talked. She watched his profile, noting the way he compensated for his slight vision loss by keeping his attention focused intently on his driving. He moved his head from side to side to monitor everything around him, his eyes sharp behind his glasses, and she doubted that very much escaped his notice. She felt completely safe.

  He was such a beautiful man, she thought with a silent sigh. Those beautiful, long-lashed blue eyes. That perfect nose. His firm mouth and chiseled bone structure. Her fingers itched to play in his thick blond hair. Just looking at him made her skin tingle. She remembered how embarrassed he had been when she’d called him pretty. But he was.

  “You’re staring at me,” he said, interrupting her appreciative appraisal.

  Trent didn’t need peripheral vision, she thought ironically. When it came to her, he seemed to have developed a sixth sense. “I was just watching you drive.”

  “Do I make you nervous?”

  “Not at all.”

  “If you’re worried about my vision, don’t be. I’ve passed all the tests. I’m restricted to wearing corrective lenses, of course, but other than that, there’s no problem. I just can’t pass flight tests.”

  He seemed so defensive about his minor limitations. Was it because he’d been such a perfect specimen before the accident that he still couldn’t accept that he now had a few flaws? “I wasn’t worried about your vision,” she said firmly, then turned her head to look out the passenger window, making an effort not to stare at him.

  Despite Trent’s occasional abrasiveness, which she’d come to accept as part of his personality, she had enjoyed the evening, she decided. It had been ages since she’d been out for a movie and a burger with a man. Probably not since college. Preston’s tastes had been somewhat more refined. A symphony performance and a gourmet meal in an exclusive restaurant would have been a more typical outing with her former fiancé. He’d hoped to finance a whole lifetime of such expensive evenings—with her money.

  This casual excursion with Trent had been more special to her than any elegant evening she’d ever spent with Preston. Probably because she hadn’t chosen to be with Trent just to please her father.

  Trent parked in front of her house and turned off the truck’s engine. He reached for his door handle.

  “There’s really no need to walk me to the door,” she assured him. “I can—”

  He didn’t even look at her. “I’ll walk you.”

  She sighed and opened her own door. Someday this man was going to have to learn to listen.

  He stood silently beside her while she unlocked her front door. Her hand still on the doorknob, she smiled up at him. “Thank you for this evening, Trent. It was exactly what I needed.”

  “Me, too.” He seemed to be in the habit lately of brushing her hair away from her face. She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not—while it was nice in a way, the brush of his fingers against her skin was almost too much sensation to bear. It always made her shiver.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, nodding toward the sweater she had draped over her arm.

  “No, I—good night, Trent.”

  It was his cue to step back and allow her to go in. He didn’t take it.

  His face was very close to hers. She hadn’t left the porch light on, so the shadows around them were deep, their faces dimly illuminated by the security light on a pole beside the driveway. The darkness reminded her of the intimacy of the movie theater—only now there was no one else around.

  She was abruptly, vividly aware of being alone with him. She wasn’t afraid of him, of course, but she was afraid of the way he made her feel.

  “I’d better go in,” she whispered.

  “Yes. You probably should.” But he didn’t drop his hand from her cheek, nor did he move away.

  Her lips were suddenly dry. She moistened them with the tip of her tongue. “Trent?”

  His gaze was focused now on her mouth. “I’m trying to talk myself out of kissing you.”

  The muttered words made her throat tighten. “You are?”

  “Yeah. It might help if you would push me away or something.”

  She lifted a hand to his chest, but instead of pushing against him, it simply rested there, feeling his heart beating strongly against her palm. “I should push you away,” she murmured, trying to convince herself.

  “Yes.” His other hand rose, cupping her face between them. His head lowered until his mouth almost, but not quite, touched hers.

  The last time they’d stood this way, he’d come to his senses and backed off. Undoubtedly the wisest move, and one he would make again. Any minute now.

  Propelled by the fear that he’d do just that, she took matters into her own hands. She tightened her fingers around the fabric of his shirt and closed the distance between them.

  She had come to Honoria to make her own decisions. To try new experiences. And she had just impulsively decided that kissing Trent McBride was an experience she didn’t want to miss.

  She might have taken the initiative, but Trent immediately turned that around. He gathered her into his arms and transformed her tentative kiss into an embrace that nearly singed her eyelashes.

  She should have known, she thought, wrapping her arms around his neck, that Trent McBride would kiss like this.

  He took a step forward, crowding her against the door, his mouth devouring hers. He was hungry, she sensed, with passion gnawing just beneath the surface of the emotional barriers he’d hidden behind. Trent was a very physical man, and his activities had been curtailed since his accident. She didn’t want to think he was taking advantage of the first opportunity that had presented itself recently.

  And then his tongue slipped between her lips and she didn’t care what his motivation was as long as he didn’t stop kissing her this way.

  The hands that made such beautiful things with wood molded her body from the curve of her hips upward, dipping in at her waist, shaping the swell of her breasts. She arched into his touch, bringing their bodies more closely together.

  He moved against her, and she felt the arousal swelling against his zipper. Knowing that he wanted her sent a heady rush of answering desire coursing through her, making her arms tighten around his neck, her body go heavy against his.

  Trent ripped his mouth from hers with a gasp that sounded more like pain than passion.

  It took Annie only a split second to understand what had happened. He was so much taller than she was, and he was forced to bend to kiss her. By locking her arms so tightly around him, she had put too much pressure on his back.

  She released him immediately. “I’m sorry. I’d forgotten…”

  He took a step back into the shadows so she couldn’t see his expression. “Yeah. I’d almost forgotten, myself.”

  “Why don’t we—”

  “Good night, Annie. See you around.”

  She’d intended to invite him in, but he was already moving away. “Trent,” she said, instinctively reaching out to him.

  Without glancing back, he moved toward his truck, his back very straight, his steps carefully measured.

  Frustrated by his attitude, she took a step after him. “Trent.”

  His truck door slammed, cutting off her words. And then he was gone, leaving her staring at his taillights in bewilderment and frustration.

  The truck was out of her sight by the time she turned and entered her house. And then she sagged against the door, her body still thrumming from his touch, her lips still aching for more of his kisses. Whatever had just happened between them had been more emotionally powerful than anything she’d ever experienced. And she had ruined it.

  She groaned and covered her face with her trembling hands, wondering how she would ever face him again.

  8

  ANNIE APPROACHED Trent’s door warily Friday morning, having no idea what sort of mood she would find him in. Would he be angry? Distant? Surly? Or, even worse, chillingly polite?

&n
bsp; He wasn’t there.

  A note was taped to the door. “Go on in. You know where to find the key.”

  He had shown her where he hid his spare key several weeks earlier, but she had never used it because he’d always been there to let her in. She knew he’d left earlier this morning because he hadn’t wanted to see her.

  Bone-deep weariness made her steps heavy as she carried her cleaning supplies into his house. She hadn’t slept more than an hour or two the night before. She’d tossed and turned, paced and fretted, and had finally given up on sleep altogether. Wrapped in a blanket, she had watched the sun rise from the rocker Trent had given her as she mentally replayed the kisses that had turned her whole world upside down.

  Never in her life had Annie considered herself even slightly psychic. But now, as she struggled with her confused emotions about Trent, she couldn’t help remembering her hesitation before knocking on his door for the very first time. She had chided herself then for her weird sensation that her life would change when she met him; now she wondered if it had been some sort of feminine intuition speaking to her that day.

  Standing alone in his house, she ran a hand across the back of the rocker that was so similar to her own. The smooth surface and satiny feel of the wood reminded her of how clever and skillful Trent was with his hands. She could still feel those oh-so-clever hands on her body. She could only imagine how much pleasure they could have given her had her clumsiness not brought everything to an embarrassingly awkward end last night.

  Did he really think it mattered to her that he had some physical limitations? As many concerns as she had about becoming too deeply involved with Trent, his back injury was not one of them.

  She cleaned the kitchen and reminded herself that she’d been engaged to a man who had no softness, no sentiment in him. She had emerged from that debacle with her pride and self-esteem in tatters. She didn’t want to go through anything like that again—ever.