Manhunting in Mississippi (10 page)

“Then take the next week and think about it,” Piper urged. “Between now and then, someone else might make an offer that’s more to your liking.”

“I don’t know,” her grandmother fretted. “There aren’t many folks around here who can afford to pay what this house is worth. And the out-of-towners who can afford it aren’t exactly rushing to move to Mudvil e. Maybe I should lower the price to attract a nice young family around here.”

“Gran,” Piper chided. “This is your retirement we’re talking about. You and Gramps invested a lot of money in building and maintaining that house. You have to get the best

price possible.”

“You’re right, of course. I suppose I can’t worry about what happens to the house once it’s sold.”

Piper pressed her lips together, then said, “A wise woman once told me that things don’t always work out the way we plan, but somehow they always work out for the best.”

Granny Falkner’s soft laugh sounded over the line. “Sounds like good advice.”

“The best. Don’t worry, okay?”

Her grandmother sighed. “When did you get so grown-up?”

“I’l cal you this evening. I love you.” Piper hung up the phone slowly.

Rich came around the partition between their work areas holding a cup of instant soup and settled himself on the edge of her desk. “Love? Wel , that was either your grandmother or the il ustrious Mr. Bentley.”

Piper gasped, then shook her finger at her attractive co-worker. “That was Gran, you rat.”

He scooped noodles into his mouth and swal owed. “The man’s got a thing for you, Piper.”

She smirked. “The man’s got a wedding ring, Rich.”

He pursed his lips and nodded. “I noticed. Pity, too. The two of you would make a great couple.”

The memory of Ian’s kiss, never far from her mind since she’d closed and locked the back door last night, washed over her anew. She glanced away, her cheeks burning with

shame.

Rich leaned closer, narrowing his eyes. “What happened?”

Stapling a stack of reports, Piper kept her voice light. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He smiled. “Then let me be more specific. What happened last night when he dropped you off at your place?”

She pul ed back, indignant. “How the devil do you know about that?”

Rich abandoned his spoon and tipped the paper cup to his mouth to drain the broth, keeping her in suspense until he lowered the cup with a satisfied sigh. “It was on the

blackboard at Alma’s this morning.”

Panicked, Piper half rose out of her seat. “What?”

He laughed and chucked her under the chin. “I’m kidding. I was inside the burger joint last night having a romantic dinner with a bad paperback and I saw him drive around.”

Adopting a dubious expression, he added, “And I could have
sworn
that was you in the passenger seat.”

Busted, she could only relent. “Okay, long story short, I accidental y took a painkil er and Gary wouldn’t let me drive. I ran into Ian—er, Mr. Bentley, and he was kind enough to offer me a ride home.”

“And I know how you can’t resist kind men,” Rich said dryly.

“He didn’t even come inside,” she added through clenched teeth.

“Glad to hear you practice safe sex.” He winked at her and dodged her swatting hand, then sobered slightly. “Relax, Piper, I know you’re much too moral to stoop to fooling

around with a married man.” Then he picked up her hand and sandwiched it between his in a rare display of affection. “But you’re too good a catch to be languishing in a place like Mudvil e.”

Squeezing his hand, she angled her head. “And I might say the same thing about you, Rich,” she murmured, a gentle reminder of what he was running from.

He gave her a smal sheepish smile, but the sound of a man clearing his throat interrupted them. Glancing toward the entrance, her heart jumped when she saw Ian walking

slowly toward them, his gaze politely averted.

Rich released her hand and rose to his feet. Piper squirmed as Ian drew closer.

Dressed in navy suit slacks and a taupe-colored col arless dress shirt, he looked just as devastating as he had the day before, except for the faint circles under his bloodshot eyes. Ian Bentley had not slept so wel on the mattress he’d been praising yesterday—a guilty conscience? A black leather briefcase hung from his beringed left hand.

Piper sat up and squared her shoulders. “Good afternoon, Mr. Bentley.” Disappointment resounded in her chest that she could stil be so affected by him after knowing about

his deceptive nature.

“Ms. Shepherd,” he responded lightly, his eyes unreadable. “Mr. Enderling.” The men shook hands, then Rich excused himself with one last meaningful look at Piper.

Ian set his briefcase on her desk, glanced around the open office area, then asked, “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Piper stood abruptly and gathered her notes for the afternoon session. “About the project? Of course.” She swept her arm in the direction of the lab. “Shal we?”

For an instant, he hesitated, then inclined his head and walked beside her. He remained silent, as did she, although she could hear her own shal ow breathing. They entered the lab, and as she made her way to a computer workstation, Piper reviewed her plan mental y: stay focused on the project and steer clear of discussing their personal encounter.

“About last night—” he began.

“Yes,” she cut in casual y, turning a friendly smile his way, “I didn’t thank you for dinner and the ride home.”

Ian set his briefcase on the counter with slow, deliberate movements. “You’re welcome,” he said evenly. “Piper—”

The door to the lab swung open, admitting Rich. “Sorry, Piper, but this is the fax you were waiting for.”

Grateful for the timely interruption, she scanned the paper he handed her, refusing to acknowledge his knowing expression. “Thanks, Rich,” she said in dismissal, but he stood rooted until she glanced up again. His left eyebrow quirked a fraction. “Thank you, Rich,” she repeatedly pointedly. Her assistant nodded curtly, shot a look toward Ian, then left.

With her body humming in awareness of Ian’s proximity, Piper studied the sheet. “Good news—marketing secured co-op offers from Peabody’s peanut butter, and from both

Chico’s and Sandal’s chocolate, among others. We can reduce your ingredient cost, plus benefit from the impact of the brand name if we tag it on your new dessert.”

“Nice work,” he admitted, then took the sheet from her and laid it on the counter. When he glanced back, Piper’s pulse kicked up. He seemed determined to discuss their

indiscretion.

His gray eyes were troubled. “Piper, we need to talk about last night.”

Panicked, she rubbed her hands over her arms and walked around the other side of the counter to gain an emotional y safe distance. After a deep breath, she turned back to

face him. “There’s nothing to discuss, Ian.”

He held up his hands. “Just hear me out.”

At his obvious irritation, her temper flared. She leaned forward, splaying her hands on the counter. She pasted a pleasant expression on her face, but injected a hard edge into her voice. “Mr. Bentley, I real y don’t care to listen to how your wife doesn’t understand you—”

“I’m not married.”

“—or that you have an open relationship….” She stopped and squinted. “What did you say?”

“I’m not married.”

A wave of terror washed over her. Not only had she made a fool of herself yet again, not to mention insulting the character of their largest client, but she realized with alarming clarity that she’d considered his married status insurance against yielding to her physical attraction to him.

She realized he was waiting for her reaction, and she felt frozen in place. Commanding her mouth to move, she tested words on her tongue. “Y-you’re not m-married?”

A glint of amusement flashed in his eyes, but he didn’t smile. “No, I’m not.”

Her gaze involuntarily flew to the ring on his left hand. She straightened and crossed her arms self-consciously, yearning to scratch her chest and neck and back. “Th-then why didn’t you say something last night?” To what end, she thought, and shuddered at the possibilities.

His chest expanded as he inhaled deeply, and Piper realized there was more to the story.

Al morning Ian had steeled himself against Piper’s al ure, tel ing himself he could clarify the situation and apologize without digging himself deeper into a pit of lust. But he hadn’t realized how much he’d been looking forward to their meeting until he’d seen her sitting at her desk. Absurd jealously had bolted through him at the sight of her assistant holding her hand so intimately. At least now he knew which man Piper had been referring to when she’d said she was also contemplating a committed relationship.

“But I
am
involved with someone,” he said final y. She blinked, but her expression remained unreadable. Ian cleared his throat and nodded to the ring on his left hand. “She, um, proposed the day before I left Chicago, and I told her I’d let her know when I return.” When she offered no response, he pursed his lips, then continued, “So you were right—no matter how attracted I am to you, I had no business kissing you last night.”

He hesitated, foolishly half hoping she would assure him she too felt the attraction rebounding between them and ful y understood his reaction. She didn’t, forcing him to proceed. “I apologize for placing you in a compromising situation. If you would prefer I work with another scientist on this project, I understand.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Um, no, I’m committed to seeing this project through until the end.”

He nodded, respecting her dedication. “I could return to Chicago and send a representative in a couple of weeks—”

“No,” she cut in rather brusquely. “I mean…I’ve already prepared a few samples, and I was hoping we could wrap this up within a couple of days.”

Ian studied her for a few seconds, aware of her discomfort, wishing he could put her at ease, wishing he could convincingly reassure her and himself that he would not be

thinking about their solitary kiss every moment he was with her. “I wouldn’t want al your work this morning to be for nothing.” He attempted a smile. “And besides, I’m hungry.”

At last she smiled, a welcome sight, though a mere shadow of the spectacular eye-lighting grins he had become accustomed to seeing. His heart lifted a notch. “Am I forgiven?”

She seemed surprised, and her smile slipped. “On hindsight, what happened hardly seems like a sin.”

“It’s important to know I haven’t offended you.”

She blushed and raked her hand lightly over her chest. “In that case, yes, al is forgiven.”

Enormously relieved, yet bothered that her opinion had become so important to him in such a short time, Ian patted the counter for emphasis. “Good.”

Piper nodded somewhat stiffly toward the white table. “Wel then, let’s get down to business, shal we?”

Ian made his way toward the table and tried not to watch Piper as she walked, stil limping slightly, to a commercial-size refrigerator. She’d traded her jeans, T-shirt and sneakers for loose black slacks, a light-colored blouse peeking through her knee-length blue lab coat and sensible flats. With her dark hair tucked behind smal ears, her cheekbones and those piercing ice-blue eyes were even more prominent. She resembled a neat little package just begging to be unwrapped. Ian swal owed and busied himself removing notes from his briefcase.

She withdrew a covered tray and carried it to the table, but she scrupulously avoided making eye contact with him. A sense of loss stabbed him, for which he sternly chastised himself. Undoubtedly, most of the attraction he felt for Piper was triggered by his panic over Meredith’s sudden proposal.

“I hope to have more chocolate recipes tomorrow,” she said as she lifted the cover. Beneath sat an assortment of four desserts on individual plates. She named each one as

she pointed. “Lemon meringue mousse, cherry and cream cheese parfait, cinnamon layer cake with chocolate icing and caramel-pecan clusters in phyl o pastry.”

His mouth was already watering, and he dearly hoped it was due to the food. “I’m impressed.”

“I’m glad,” she said cheerful y. After arranging several forks and spoons next to the tray, she handed him a napkin. He took the soft cloth, dismayed at the electric charge when their fingers brushed. She must have felt it, too, because she immediately dropped her hand and her gaze, then turned toward a freezer. “I’l get a sorbet to cleanse your palate between dishes.”

Glancing between the colorful concoctions, each different, but beautiful y presented, Ian sighed. “I’ve never liked having to choose,” he said, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

With her back to him, it was difficult to discern if she’d noticed the Freudian slip. She returned to the table bearing a clear glass bowl of garnished lime sorbet and a tight smile.

“That’s life,” she said lightly.

She’d noticed, al right. He squirmed and felt a flush climb his cheeks.

She situated the sorbet near him, then took the seat farthest away, poised with a pen to make notes as they moved through each dish. There was something decidedly provocative about eating a beautiful dessert while looking at a beautiful woman, Ian decided.

He chose the lemon-meringue mousse first and dipped in the end of a spoon, scooping up a dol op the size of a cotton bal . Somewhat self-consciously, he lifted the spoon and slowly placed the yel ow puddinglike dessert into his mouth. His taste buds tingled as soon as the cool, creamy tang hit his tongue. Holding the creation against the roof of his mouth, he savored the light, tart flavor.

With a start, he realized that Piper, sitting at the other end of the table, held her gaze riveted to his mouth. Her eyes were soft around the edges, and she moved her empty mouth in synchronization with his. He chewed, she chewed. He pursed his lips, she pursed hers. He swal owed, her throat constricted. His body reacted, and he imagined hers responding, too.

“Very nice,” he croaked, shifting in his seat.

Piper started, then slid a fact sheet across the table. “Ingredient measurements, costs and nutrition breakdown per serving,” she explained.