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“He said he was Matt Webster.”
“The Matt Webster?” Sarah picked up the card again. “Olivia’s Matt?” She rubbed her belly absently. “Didn’t they break up after they lost their baby? The family kept everything hush-hush. It’s been what, ten years, since then?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t exactly have an in-depth conversation under the awning.” Katie smiled. “All I saw was, well, his eyes,” she admitted.
“Did you ask him out?”
“Sarah, I was wearing a banana suit.”
“So? Doesn’t mean you can’t be spontaneous.” She wagged a finger at Katie. “Try a little spontaneity, you might like it.”
“Spoken by the queen of spontaneity herself. Heck, you even got married on the spur of the moment.”
“Eloping is exciting and romantic,” Sarah said with a flourish of her hand. “I like to live for the moment, rather than let it pass me by.”
Katie considered Sarah’s words as she worked on the roses in the cooler. She changed the water and added floral preservative before placing the flowers back into the containers. The banana suit, while embarrassing, had also emboldened her and given her the chutzpah to exchange witty repartee with a sexy stranger. It had been a new feeling, a liberating one. In her twenty-four years, she hadn’t taken many chances and the ones she had—Steve, the store—hadn’t exactly been successful. Maybe if she changed her approach, the outcome would be different.
For too many years, she’d been Conventional Katie, always predictable, never stepping out of bounds, even when the ball was hurtling toward her head. That kind of reliability had led her to a broken heart and a year of lonely evenings.
“I’ve been thinking,” Katie said. “You know what today is, don’t you?”
“Uh huh,” Sarah replied with a sympathetic look. “I didn’t want to mention it, though. Figured it might make it hard for you to be a jolly banana.”
Katie laughed. Sarah had always been able to erase Katie’s blue moods. Lord knew there’d been plenty of those in the last year. “It would have been my first anniversary, if Steve hadn’t left me at the altar.”
“In the end, a very good thing.”
“I didn’t think so at the time, but I do now. If I’d married him and then he’d taken off with someone else, it would have been worse.” Katie plucked a pale peach rose from the bucket and sniffed the delicate fragrance. Sarah’s motto sounded like the perfect antidote for Katie’s stagnant life. Live for the moment, before it passes you by. And leaves you old and alone, she amended. “I’ve been moping long enough. It’s time for a change.”
“Good for you!” Sarah settled back on the stool. “What kind of change are you thinking about?”
“First, I’m going to overindulge in chocolate,” Katie said. “And then, well…” She thought of Matt Webster and how a smile from him had set off fireworks in her belly. “I might just go for something a little more decadent.”
Fate sure had a twisted sense of humor. There wasn’t a single Hershey Bar or Sara Lee double chocolate layer cake in the seven-aisle store that passed for a supermarket in Mercy. Katie supposed it was a mark of small-town charm, but for a girl craving chocolate and calories, it left a lot to be desired. Being mid-week, the shelves and freezer case were already empty of anything remotely indulgent. Muttering in defeat, Katie grabbed a box of fruit-flavored Popsicles and laid it in the row of groceries in her basket, arranged in order of her coupons.
She wandered up and down the aisles, in no hurry to return to her empty apartment. As she rounded a display of spaghetti sauce, she heard a familiar voice. Then another. She stopped in her tracks and peeked beyond the jars.
“Oh, Stevie, get the extra cheese popcorn,” purred a woman draped on Katie’s ex-fiancé’s arm. The feline vixen in a lavender dress was none other than Barbara—ex-bridesmaid and traitor.
In tenth grade, Barbara and Katie had met in a study group that managed to ace Miss Marchand’s biology class. They’d become friends and stayed in touch during college. When Barbara returned from four years in Boston and had trouble finding a job, she’d seemed depressed. So Katie often invited her along to join her and Steve as a threesome, or with a friend of Steve’s, thinking it would be the boost Barbara needed. Too trusting by far, Katie later realized she’d been the conduit to a secret affair instead.
Why hadn’t she put the pieces together when Barbara caught a sudden case of the flu the morning of the wedding? While Katie was standing in front of a hundred people waiting for a groom who never came, Barbara had been off consummating a different union.
On Katie’s honeymoon. With Katie’s groom.
And Steve—he’d probably been drinking their champagne in the crystal glasses her mother had bought, toasting another woman in a negligee. An eager woman. One who wouldn’t make him wait until the vows were said and done. And he’d probably been finding the exact kind of excitement he’d told Katie she lacked.
She’d heard they’d moved to Lansing, Michigan. But clearly, they were back, and sharing their love—based on a mutual admiration for wrestling and Coors beer—with all of Mercy. Ugh.
A year’s worth of anger, which Conventional Katie had kept under a tight, polite lid, boiled up inside her. She’d vowed to go on with her life, but that didn’t mean she’d forgotten. They’d betrayed her, even going so far as to keep the shower gifts, and she’d taken it all without a word, while Barbara sipped from Katie’s Waterford and kissed Katie’s groom.
She wondered if she could be arrested for assaulting them with an extra-large box of Orville Redenbacher’s.
“Excuse me, miss.”
Katie wheeled around. Standing directly behind her, with a shopping cart full of the gastrointestinal nightmares that only bachelors seemed to buy, was Matt Webster.
She was now in her own clothes, no banana suit to hide behind. It was a perfect chance to test the waters of her new spontaneity resolution, right in front of Barbara and Steve. Take a chance. Dip a toe in the wild side.
A second peek around the corner and she saw Steve, one hand on Barbara’s waist, strolling down the aisle, debating popcorn choices. They were going to see her in a minute—the lovey-dovey couple encountering the lonely, jilted bride. She imagined the pity on their faces, the knowing smiles that said she was the unfortunate one, the one who hadn’t gone on, a year after the fiasco.
It was high time she gave everyone in town something better to talk about. She was tired of being boring, dependable Katie. The same Katie who had been publicly dumped like an old, ugly mattress.
Taking a deep breath, she dropped the basket to the floor, swung back to face Matt, and ordered, “Kiss me.”
Chapter Two
“What?” Matt choked out. “Here? But—”
“Here and now,” she hissed and pulled his head to hers.
It all happened so quickly, Matt had little time to react. Not that he would have refused her anyway. The odds of a strange woman coming up to him in a grocery store and demanding a kiss were about the same as the Red Sox’s chances of winning the World Series. Slim to none. And the fact that the woman was as beautiful as this one only made the situation more intriguing.
Obliging her demands, but adding a few of his own, his mouth drifted over hers, and he tugged her closer. She wanted a kiss and she’d get one. He might be a lot of things, but he wasn’t one to disappoint, not when it came to kisses. Or other bedroom sports.
He teased his tongue along the seam of her mouth, urging her for more, trying to satisfy the wave of desire that had slammed into him like a freight train when she’d grabbed him.
She arched against him, bringing the softness of her breasts up to his chest. Flames erupted in his midsection, and for a moment, he forgot where they were.
“Katie?”
Matt’s gaze jerked toward the sound of two voices. A tall man a few years younger than Matt had his arm draped over the hips of a blonde. Both their mouths gaped in perfect, shocked Os.
Although she ended the kiss, the woman in Matt’s arms didn’t pull away. “Oh my,” she murmured, so softly he barely heard her, “so that’s what it would be like.”
Now that his head was in an upright position, he took a second to peruse his female body burglar. She was probably only five-foot-three, but what was packed into those sixty-three inches was exactly what he liked. She was slender, with a hint of curves under her loose-fitting tank and denim shorts. Her hair—long and the same honey-brown color as a good beer—fell loosely about her face in soft waves that made him remember exactly what kind of fun could be had in the back seat of his convertible.
She stroked his cheek and held his gaze, giving him the fleeting sensation of a long-time lover. Then, poised and in control, she turned and faced the twosome.
“Steve and Barbara, what a nice surprise.” Her voice was filled with sweetness and sarcasm. Matt noticed her hands clench into tight fists, out of sight of the happy couple, but right over the contours of her very pleasing backside.
When his bike had broken down this afternoon, he’d thought returning to Mercy and staying at his parents’ house was a mistake. He’d vowed to come back, show the town he had bucked their predictions and become a successful businessman, not a felon. So far, he’d had little time to do more than tangle with a woman in a banana suit, change his clothes, grab his old convertible and head to the store for the kind of food his mother refused to keep in her pantry.
And then, this woman, a pint-size ball of fire, had surprised the hell out of him and made his homecoming almost fun.
Matt watched with amusement as the trio exchanged uncomfortable, stumbled greetings. The tension in the air was thick and sticky, but all were masking it behind a polite facade. He presumed Steve, one of those guys with a boyish smile, was the “ex” and Barbara the mistress who had turned his head. The woman’s kiss had probably been some sort of revenge.
Steve dropped his arm from the blonde’s waist. “Katie, I didn’t think that was you. I saw you…kissing and well…” his voice trailed off. He looked shocked.
“I guess you didn’t know me that well after all, Steve.” She hugged herself to Matt. He didn’t complain.
“So, ah, how’ve you been?”
“Oh, fine. Business is booming. I couldn’t be happier.” She grabbed Matt’s arm and plastered it to her side.
Matt couldn’t help but take advantage. It was, after all, part of his baser nature. He stroked her waist with lazy movements that spoke of tangled sheets and spent passions. His hand glided down the soft cotton of her tank, along the fabric of her shorts, tracing her body. If she wanted Stevie Boy to think they were lovers, that was an easy, and enjoyable, part to play.
She wasn’t going for an Oscar. She laced the fingers of her right hand with his, effectively stilling his hand and keeping it from straying anywhere interesting at all.
Spoilsport.
Whoever she was, this woman had lit a fire under him that wasn’t being doused easily. A fire that was going to be visible to the whole world if he kept letting his thoughts run toward taking her to bed. Mentally, he recited the Pledge of Allegiance, cooling his ardor with a dash of patriotism. It worked—a little.
“Have you really been okay?” Steve moved forward.
Barbara grabbed his hand before he strayed too far. “Stevie, we’re late for the party. They ordered the pay-perview fight, you know. We’ll miss the beginning.” She tried to reel him back in, but didn’t succeed.
He waved his hand to shush her, his gaze on Katie. “I’m glad things are going well,” Steve said. “Since we moved to Michigan, I’ve lost touch with…everyone. Anyway, we drove down to Mercy today. We’re only staying for a week, because, well, Barbara and I are getting married. Next Saturday. It’s kind of last minute. We’ve barely told anyone yet so, I…I figured you might not have heard.”
Matt glanced at Katie. Tears shone in her azure eyes. He saw her self-control eroding and cursed the man that could make a woman as beautiful as this one cry. She didn’t deserve this humiliation.
“Congratulations, Stevie,” Matt boomed, falling into the charade of being Katie’s lover with gusto. “Katie and I are damned glad to hear your news.” Matt clapped him hard on the shoulder.
Steve wobbled, then regained his balance. “Thanks.” He rubbed his shoulder.
“When you meet the woman of your dreams, it all feels right, doesn’t it?” He splayed his fingers across Katie’s waist, and pressed a kiss to her hair. The sensual, warm scent of shampoo and sunlight wafted up to greet him. Her hair was velvet, falling in russet waves he pictured fanned out across his pillow. “Feels just right,” he murmured.
Steve ignored Matt. “I wanted you to hear the news from me.”
“I’m happy for you, Steve.” Katie squared her shoulders and perked up in Matt’s arms.
“You are?” He looked confused.
“Steve, that was a year ago. I’ve moved on. And after I met Matt, I forgot all about you.” She flashed Matt a warm smile.
He was flabbergasted, not only by her smile, but that she knew his name. He’d only been in town for four hours. How did she know who he was? Was he that recognizable after an eleven-year absence? And why didn’t he remember her?
Before he could give it another thought, Barbara piped in. “I guess the rumors aren’t true, then.”
“And what rumors are those?”
“That you’re becoming…well, to put it plainly,” she gave a little giggle, “a recluse, pouring everything into your shop.” She shook her head, as if Katie’s life were the saddest thing she’d ever encountered. “But after that, ah, very public display, I guess you have moved on. Why don’t you introduce us to this new man in your life?”
“Matt Webster, my…my fiancé.”
Matt swallowed. Engaged? This game was going too far for his tastes. Pretending to be a lover, now that he could do. And do very well. Pretending to be a future husband was way over the top. He needed to get out of here before he was saddled with an imaginary family and a St. Bernard.
“He is? You are?” Barbara didn’t look as though she believed Katie’s story. Matt saw a flare of jealousy in Barbara’s gaze as it darted between Katie and Matt. “Well, I’m happy for you.”
“Are you?”
“Well, sure.” But the blonde didn’t sound happy at all. Maybe she was the type who stole her friend’s Barbies because they seemed nicer than her own. The grass, he’d found, was always greener when you looked at it with envy-colored eyes. Barbara turned to go, tugging Stevie Boy along with her.
“Oh, Barbara?” Katie called.
The blonde pivoted back. “What?”
“Make sure you have a ride home from the church. In case you’re the only one who shows up.”
Even though she knew it was spiteful, Katie took a small measure of satisfaction in Barbara’s gasp and reddened face, mirrored by the nearby jars of spaghetti sauce. Barbara yanked Steve down the aisle, striding fast and furious toward the exit.
When they were gone, Katie let out a deep breath. What a way to change her image. Maul a stranger and then pretend she was engaged to him. In a town like Mercy, that kind of behavior was going to start a lot of talk. Talk that could get blown out of proportion, and set off a renewed stream of gossip. Had she made a mistake?
She was almost afraid to face Matt. Even though he’d gone along with her charade, he might not find the aftermath amusing.
Apparently a lot of other people did, Katie realized. Every minute of the exchange had been witnessed by a throng of people who had gathered at either end of the aisle. A half dozen shocked faces peeked around the spaghetti and ravioli, drinking in the sight of staid, predictable Katie Dole exchanging much more than pleasantries with a stranger and battling with her former bridesmaid beside the Chef Boyardee.
Alice Marchand, Katie’s eighty-year-old neighbor, marched down the aisle. “Good for you, dear.” She patted Katie’s arm. “That Spencer boy and his floozy deserved every bit of that after what they did to you. Why, in my day, if a man left a woman at the altar, her daddy would get his shotgun and—”
“I’m sure my daddy considered that.” Katie laughed.
“And you, young man, who are you?” Miss Marchand, the toughest biology teacher ever to educate at Mercy High, lowered her spectacles and bent closer.
“Matthew Webster, ma’am.”
She didn’t look surprised. “Georgianne and Edward’s boy?”
Matt nodded. So he was definitely the Matt Webster, Katie thought. Funny, he didn’t look like a wild child. She couldn’t imagine him married to Olivia, either. She seemed too…arctic and polished.
“You have a lot of gumption to come back. But it’s good to see you home, where you belong.” Miss Marchand nodded.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m back for good,” Matt said.
But that statement only started the crowd’s titterings up again. “I think that’s my cue to go, before they decide to lynch me,” he said with a dry, bitter laugh. Then he took Katie’s hand and brought it to his lips. When he kissed it, his gaze never left hers. The air between them crackled with sensuality and promise. “It was a pleasure to meet you. I do hope I see you again, Mystery Woman, and finish what we started. Soon.”
Then he was gone, striding past the gaping townspeople, leaving Katie with a smile on her lips and a burning curiosity to know more about Matthew Webster.
Tools and parts were spread around Matt in an ever-multiplying circle as he dismantled his motorcycle and began the tedious repair job. His midnight-blue Chevy SS convertible, which had patiently waited under a tarp for the past eleven years, had miraculously started this afternoon. Someone had taken it in for service. The telltale sticker on the windshield said the Chevy had been in for an oil change two weeks ago.
Matt figured his mother had taken care of the car, though he couldn’t quite see her ordering up the lube special. Either way, the pampered auto had started easily, saving him from having to ask to borrow his father’s Mercedes. He was back, but he wasn’t up for a confrontation. Not yet. Using the motorcycle as an excuse, he’d taken a quick shower, avoiding his father, and then run into town for the parts he needed.
And run into one hell of an interesting woman, he mused, recalling her impetuousness and her kiss. She’d been hot and sweet at the same time, like the fireballs he’d eaten as a kid. He imagined drawing her closer, taking her into his arms, lowering the straps of her tank top down her shoulders, over the swell of her breasts….
The socket wrench slipped from his fingers and tumbled into his lap. Throbbing pain brought a quick halt to his fantasy.
He took a deep breath, trying to block the searing pain and focus on the motorcycle, not the girl. It wasn’t easy. The fluid lines of the bike, the butter-softness of the leather seat, the sleek metal curves, all had him picturing the stranger named Katie and imagining her on the bike wearing nothing more than a smile.
This time, he managed to catch the wrench before it rendered him impotent.
