Connecting Rooms (3 page)

“What made you return to Villantry, Arthur?” Amy asked boldly.

Owen winced at her less than casual tone. But Crabshaw did not seem to mind the pointed question.

“I got tired of the desert,” Arthur said. “After thirty years of Arizona sunshine, I realized I missed the rainy Northwest. The only thing I miss about Phoenix is the year-round golf.”

“Arthur loves golf,” Bernice explained. “He plays every chance he gets, don’t you, dear?”

Arthur smiled. “I do indeed. Got a game scheduled for tomorrow morning, in fact. The Villantry Golf Course is not exactly world-class and the rain has a way of canceling out a lot of games, but I figure that’s a small price to pay to live here.”

“Life is so unpredictable,” Bernice said. “What a coincidence, eh, Amy? You and I both finding true love where we least expected it.”

Amy began to look anxious again. “Right. Hey, what’s all the excitement about here in Villantry? We saw banners hanging over the main street. Something about
fireworks in the park on Saturday evening.”

“Didn’t you know?” Arthur popped another oyster into his mouth. “The town is going to dedicate the new wing of the Raymond C. Villantry Memorial Public Library on Saturday. Big event. Madeline Villantry and her son, Raymond Junior, are pulling out all the stops.”

“The new library wing is really a very generous gift to the community,” Bernice said politely.

Amy raised her brows. “Do I detect a note of dutiful peasant gratitude?”

Bernice made a face. “Sorry about that. The Villantrys are nice enough in their own way, and Lord knows they’ve done a lot for this town. But they never forget for one minute that they are the leading family in Villantry. Very conscious of their position, if you know what I mean. Madeline is quite good in the role of Lady Bountiful.”

Owen grinned briefly. “But the noblesse oblige stuff from the lady of the manor gets to be a bit thick at times, I take it?”

Bernice rolled her eyes. “I’m afraid so. Then, too, even though we’re all adults now, I suppose a part of me can’t quite forget that when we were in high school together, Madeline was the acknowledged beauty of the town. She got every boyfriend she wanted, including one or two of mine.”

Arthur shifted uneasily in his chair and cleared his throat. “Villantry Fishing built this town. Most of the jobs here are connected to the company. I worked for Villantry myself years ago, before I went off to Arizona.”

“What did you do in Arizona?” Owen asked easily. He pretended not to notice Amy’s sharp glance.

“Started a construction company. Got lucky. Hit the building boom in Phoenix.
Always thought I’d retire there, but after my wife died I felt restless. Did some traveling and then, on a whim, I decided to see what had happened to my hometown.”

“We met in the library,” Bernice said with a rueful laugh. “So I suppose one could say that we owe the Villantrys.”

Arthur paused with the fork halfway to his mouth. “Speaking of Villantrys,” he murmured, “here comes the lady of the manor herself, and Junior. He runs the business now, you know. Took over when his old man died three years ago.”

Owen glanced up to see a handsome woman in her fifties moving regally down the aisle between a row of tables. She was followed by a man in his early thirties who looked as if he was on the wrong coast. He wore a pale yellow sweater tied around his neck and a bored look that spoke of having grown up with a sense of entitlement.

The dining room hostess trotted deferentially ahead of the pair, as though to make certain no rude serfs lumbered into their path. Madeline paused briefly at various tables to greet people with heavy-handed graciousness. Raymond Junior paused with her. He was not so gracious, however. He appeared impatient.

A moment later the entourage halted beside the table where Owen and the others sat. Owen and Arthur got to their feet. Madeline acknowledged their chivalry with an aloof inclination of her head. The nod said more plainly than words could have that such good manners were only to be expected.

“Do sit down, both of you.” Madeline’s smile was polite, but her voice was laced with a certain pinched quality. Her gaze touched Arthur briefly before sliding away. “Bernice, Arthur, I’m so glad we ran into each other here tonight. I heard about your engagement, and I want to congratulate both of you.”

“Thank you, Madeline.” Bernice gestured toward Owen and Amy. “I’d like you to
meet my niece, Amy Comfort, and her fiancé, Owen Sweet. They’re visiting.”

“How do you do,” Madeline said. “This is my son, Raymond.”

Raymond gave Owen a curt nod. “Our table’s ready, Mother.”

A fleeting frown of disapproval flickered across Madeline’s noble features, and then it was gone. “Yes, of course. You will excuse us?”

“Enjoy your dinner,” Bernice said cheerfully.

“Thank you.” Madeline glanced once more at Arthur and then she was gone.

Something in Arthur Crabshaw’s gaze caught Owen’s attention. In spite of his opinion of the crazy case and the fact that he had more important things on his mind at that moment than solving it, his instincts went on yellow alert.

Not red alert, Owen noticed, just yellow. But a warning light had definitely flashed. He felt Amy go very still beside him. He wondered if she had sensed the same thing he had.

No doubt about it: Arthur Crabshaw and Madeline Villantry had a history.

•  •  •

Two hours later Owen sat in a chair near the window of his darkened room and contemplated the closed door that stood between him and Amy.

He had been studying the door for nearly twenty minutes, ever since he and Amy had returned from dinner and coffee in the lounge.

After due consideration, Owen had finally concluded that the logical approach was the obvious one. He would simply knock on the connecting door. When Amy opened it from her side, he would tell her that he wanted to discuss the case. It was as clever an excuse as any.

Having considered and determined upon a course of action, he gripped the padded
arms of the chair and started to get to his feet. An authoritative knock from Amy’s side of the door stopped him in midrise.

“Owen? Are you in there?” Her voice was muffled, but the excited urgency in it was unmistakable. She knocked again, this time with a bit more insistence.

Owen told himself not to get his hopes up. The odds were against the likelihood that Amy had fallen for him sometime during dinner and now wanted to share a passionate good-night embrace.

Nevertheless, he walked across the room with enthusiasm and opened the door with anticipation.

Amy stood there, her hand raised for another peremptory knock. Her honey-colored hair was pinned in a frothy knot on top of her head. She was wearing a heavy, quilted bathrobe that rendered the average nun’s habit scandalous in comparison. Owen smiled at the sight of her. She looked freshly scrubbed, and he was willing to bet that she had already brushed her teeth.

“I thought you might want to discuss the case,” she said eagerly.

Owen’s enthusiasm and anticipation vanished in a puff of smoke. So much for his fond dream of having Amy fall into his arms. Back to Plan A. “I was afraid of that.”

Her brows snapped together. “What?”

“Never mind.” Owen stepped aside and swept his hand out to invite her into his room. “Come on in and have a seat. I’m at your service. Hell, I’m even willing to unlock the little refrigerator over there and open one of those itsy-bitsy bottles of wine.”

Amy scowled. “Those tiny bottles are horribly overpriced for what you get.”

“No problem. I’ll just put it on my expense account.”

Amy halted midway into the room. Alarm flared in her eyes. “Expense account?”

“Sure. That’s how this PI business works, you know.” He closed the connecting door and strolled to the small refrigerator. He used the small key to open the door. “I bill you by the hour and then tack on all the little extras. Adds up nicely.”

“Good heavens. I hadn’t realized. That could get rather pricey.”

“Yes, indeed.” Owen removed a minuscule bottle of brandy and paused to examine the label. “Name of the game, I’m afraid.”

“Maybe we should have discussed your fees in more detail.”

“Too late.” Owen splashed the brandy into two glasses. “I’m already on the job. And once I start something, I always finish it.”

Her expression relaxed. “You’re teasing me.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” She took one of the glasses from his hand. “You know, you’ve been acting a little weird since you agreed to take this case.”

“Maybe that’s because the case is a little weird.” He took a sip from his glass. “First time I ever went undercover as a client’s fake fiancé. By the way, you want some advice?”

She looked immediately wary. “What advice?”

“Try not to get that deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression in your eyes whenever someone makes a reference to our engagement. Sooner or later you’ll blow our cover.”

Her mouth fell open in shock. “Good grief. I’m that bad?”

He stared at her full, parted lips. “Maybe you just need to loosen up a bit.”

“Loosen up?”

“Mellow out. Get into the role.” He closed the distance between them with long,
slow strides. “Try to become more comfortable with the idea of having a relationship with me.”

She nibbled on her lower lip. “Relationship?”

“It should feel natural.” He stopped in front of her. “Otherwise you’re going to panic whenever someone says the magic word,
engagement
.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to panic.”

“No?” He put his hands on her shoulders. “How will you react if, for the sake of maintaining the deception, I do something like this?”

He bent his head and covered her mouth with his own.

Amy froze beneath the impact of Owen’s kiss.
Just like a deer caught in a car’s headlights
, she thought. Owen had been right. The concept of an intimate relationship with him did strange things to her nerves.

But the rest of her body seemed to have no problem with the idea. Owen was kissing her. After all these weeks of her wondering and fantasizing, he was actually kissing her.

Hot excitement flashed through Amy, erasing the momentary paralysis. With an awkward, slightly jerky movement, she wrapped her arms around Owen’s neck and kissed him back with all the bottled-up passion she had been concealing for nearly two months.

Her response appeared to take Owen by surprise. He staggered a little under the gentle assault. But he did not release her. He recovered his balance immediately and began to rain kisses on her throat.

“Amy?”

“Oh, my God, this is amazing.”

“You can say that again.” Owen scooped her up in his arms and carried her across the room to the bed. “When I think of all the time we’ve wasted.”

“Yes, yes, I know what you mean.”

He set her down on the bed and fell on top of her. Her bathrobe had been a faithful friend for years, but it had not been designed to defend its wearer from such treatment. It promptly separated. One of Owen’s jeaned legs found its way between Amy’s thighs.

“Owen.”

“Damn,” he whispered. “This is incredible. You’re incredible.”

Amy was dazed by the waves of passion that were coursing through her. She felt deliciously crushed beneath Owen’s not inconsiderable weight. The heat of his body triggered a series of lightning strikes within her. She could feel the fires they ignited. The flames burned most intensely in her lower body, liquefying all that they touched.

Owen found the pins in her hair and tore them free. “Like honey in my hands.” He seized a fistful of the stuff and buried his nose in it. “You smell so good.”

“So do you.” The realization astonished her. She had never before noticed a man’s smell unless she happened to be standing downwind of one who had failed to use deodorant.

But this unique scent that belonged to Owen was different. Enticing. Enthralling. It did crazy things to her senses. She wanted more of it. More of him.

“Hang on, let me get you out of this thing.” Owen levered himself up on one elbow and tugged at the sash of her robe.

Amy gazed at him, fascinated by the passion that blazed in his eyes. Wonderingly, she touched his hard jaw. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“The delay was my fault. I was going for the subtle approach.” He put a heavy, warm hand on the bodice of the soft cotton gown. His fingers closed gently around one breast. “Don’t ask me why.”

“You feel so good.” She flattened her palm against his chest, delighting in the strength of him.

“So do you.” He bent his head to kiss a nipple. His mouth dampened the fabric of her gown. She gave a small, muffled cry and clutched at his shoulders.

Owen began to tug the nightgown downward. “Amy, you don’t know what you’re
doing to me.”

Realization burst through Amy’s dazzled senses. “Oh, my God, you’re right. This is all my fault.”

“Huh?”

“It’s the case.” She clutched wildly at her sliding nightgown and struggled to sit up. “Don’t you see? It’s the situation we’re in that’s causing you to act like this.”

“What the hell?” Owen fell to the side as Amy squirmed out from underneath him.

“I thought this was all very sudden.” Amy tugged the lapels of her robe together and grabbed for the sash. Her hands were shaking.

“Sudden?”

“Well, it’s not as though you’ve shown any great interest in me until tonight.”

“Amy, for God’s sake, listen to me. You’ve got this all wrong.”

“I don’t think so.” She glowered at him as she scooted to the edge of the bed. “We’ve known each other for several weeks and you’ve never once indicated that you felt anything other than sort of friendly toward me.”

“Sort of friendly?” Owen was beginning to look mildly dangerous.

Amy was mortified. “It’s worse than I thought. You weren’t even feeling particularly friendly, were you? That was just my imagination.”

“Amy, I think we have a small problem here,” he began in an ominous tone.

“Please, it’s all right. I understand exactly what’s happening.”

“I’m glad one of us does.”