Manhunting in Mississippi (2 page)

“Then you’d better start doing something about it.”

“Okay, okay, I get the message. Can we please change the subject?”

“Aha!” Justine whooped. “I just thought of the perfect color for my bridesmaids’ dresses—salmon!”

Piper bit back a groan, bounced up from the bed and walked her fingers over the col ection of gowns stil hanging in the cramped wardrobe. Burgundy, tangerine, moss green,

silver, baby blue, pink, coral, eggplant, peach and plum.

But no salmon.

IAN BENTLEY BLINKED
at the thick gold band, topped with two rows of sparkling diamonds, then glanced across the table to Meredith. “M-marry you?”

“Sure.” She shrugged her lovely shoulders, a dry smile curving her glazed red lips. “I won a trip to Europe for top sales, but I’m only al owed to have a spouse go with me—no

‘significant others.’”

Ian pursed his lips and studied her classical y beautiful face and mane of blond hair, which no doubt contributed to her sales success. Meredith was a walking bil board for the line of cosmetics she sold to department stores, more striking than most of the supermodels who endorsed the products. But was hers a face he could wake up to for the rest of his life?

“Meredith, forgive me, but a trip doesn’t seem like a great reason to get married.”

She laughed and waved off his concern. “Sil y, I know that, but the trip started me thinking. Why the hel not get married? We spend most nights together anyway—
when
we’re both in town,” she added. “Getting married is the next logical step.” She leaned forward and touched his hand. “Come on, Ian, neither one of us is getting any younger.”

The uneasiness that gurgled in Ian’s empty stomach bal ooned into dread, then ful -fledged terror. In the space of a few seconds, the innocent, quick lunch had morphed into a life-altering experience. Meredith was an elegant woman, an immaculate dresser and a skil ed lover. He enjoyed her company very much. But did he love her?

Ian skewered the elusive concept and turned it over in his mind like a rotisserie. Would he even recognize the emotion if it sneaked up on him? He always thought he’d be

married, perhaps even have a child or two, before the age of forty. But forty was approaching more quickly than he’d expected, and he was stil waiting for someone to capture his heart the way his mother had captured his father’s nearly five decades ago.

Meredith’s flawless face lost some of its sparkle. “Gee, Ian, you look like you siphoned gas and swal owed a mouthful.”

Straightening in his suddenly uncomfortable chair, he squeezed the gray ring box and grappled for the right words. “You caught me a little off guard, Meredith.”

She angled her blond head at him. “That would be the idea behind a surprise, wouldn’t it?”

A weak laugh erupted from his tight throat as moisture broke out along his hairline.

“Try it on,” she urged, lifting her wineglass for a sip, then added, “your left hand.”

His gaze dropped back to the ring. Ian extracted it careful y, marveling how an expensive bauble could come attached with so much emotional baggage. “It’s very nice,” he

murmured, estimating that two carats’ worth of diamonds studded the gold band. Meredith’s taste ran a bit on the flashy side. With his heart pounding, he slid the ring onto his third finger, then gave her a tight smile. “Perfect fit.”
Dammit.

“You don’t have to answer right away,” she offered, withdrawing a black-cased lipstick and mirror for a quick touch-up. “Wear the ring for a few days, see how you like the idea of being a married man. If you say yes, we’l simply buy me a band to match.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow on business,” he blurted, changing the subject awkwardly, but suddenly anticipating the trip he’d been dreading only moments ago.

Meredith’s eyes lit up. “Anywhere interesting?”

Although she occasional y accompanied him from Chicago to Los Angeles or New York, Ian felt nearly giddy with relief that she wouldn’t be so eager to join him on this trip. He forced disappointment into his voice. “Afraid not—Mudvil e, Mississippi, population twelve hundred.”

Her slender nose wrinkled. “What’s in Mudvil e, Mississippi?”

“The plant that packages desserts for my Italian diners.”

“Oooh, the butterscotch cheesecake?”

He smiled and nodded. “Among others.”

Wincing, she patted her flat tummy with a manicured hand. “That settles it—with bathing-suit season around the corner, I definitely can’t go.”

Ian made a clicking sound with his cheek and tried to look disappointed. “Maybe next time.”

“Why are you going?”

“I’m planning to franchise the coffeehouses next year, and I think a designer dessert would improve their marketability—you know, something catchy.”

She narrowed her almond-shaped eyes. “I meant, why are
you
going? Don’t you have someone to take care of that kind of thing?”

“Wel …yes,” he admitted, not without a certain amount of guilt. His vice president of marketing had made the same point just last week when Ian had returned from a plant in

Il inois. And his doctor had warned him only yesterday to delegate more work at the office. Frustration pushed at his chest, causing him to respond more vehemently than the situation warranted. “But I think the importance of this project justifies a firsthand consultation with the company’s food scientists.”

Meredith’s eyes widened slightly, then she inclined her head. “When it comes to food, you seem to know what the public wants.” One eyebrow arched and she smirked. “How

are the kiddie parlors sel ing?”

Glad for the change in subject, he smiled wide. “Great so far. Pizza and trampolines seem to be a profitable mix.”

“Go figure,” she said, her dry tone a clear indication of how she felt about having kids, hearing kids or just plain
seeing
kids—a fact which needled him slightly. She blotted her lipstick with her folded napkin. “How long wil you be in…Mudvil e, is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know…as long as it takes to get a good prototype. Maybe a week, maybe more. Sometimes these smal -town plants are not as prepared as they should be for

presentations.”

Her frown quickly turned into a sweet smile as she reached forward to pat his left hand. “Wel , at least I won’t have to worry about you finding someone else in a place cal ed Mudvil e. If it’s as desolate and godforsaken as it sounds, you’l have lots of peace and quiet to consider my proposal.”

Ian conjured up a smile and hoped it wasn’t as shaky as his knees. At this moment, Mudvil e seemed like a haven, a slow little one-horse town where he could
forget
about the proposal for a few days. Fresh air, good-tasting water, maybe even a fishing trip or two…and no women bent on dragging him to the altar.

“HI, GRAN.”
Piper dropped a kiss on her grandmother’s silky cheek. “Sorry I’m late. Justine is obsessing over her wedding plans.”

Dressed in gray sweats, El en Falkner radiated youth—seventy-five going on forty-five, she was much too young-looking for the title of “granny,” a name she insisted on nonetheless.

Granny Falkner smiled wide, tucked a strand of convincing light brown hair beneath her blue bandanna, then planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t fret, Piper. There’s stil plenty to do.” She frowned and glanced around the living room, shaking her head. “How does one accumulate so much junk?”

At least two dozen brown boxes lined the perimeter of the weathered room, stacked atop jumbled furniture. The cabbage-rose wal paper Piper had always loved suddenly

appeared yel owed and dated next to the bright squares where pictures had once hung. Stripped of its window dressings, the tal -ceilinged parlor looked half-naked and lonely, as if already pining for its mistress.

“Gran,” Piper said softly, “after forty years, you’re al owed to have accumulated a few knickknacks.”

“I know,” her grandmother said, caressing the wooden mantel. “And I’m real y going to miss this old house.” Then she turned a bright smile toward Piper. “But six years alone is plenty long enough. I hate to leave the house empty, but Nate would want me to move on, and Greenbay Ridge looks like my kind of place.” She winked. “I can learn to line dance and stil be close to you.”

“You’l be the social butterfly of the entire retirement community, Gran. And the real-estate agent wil find a buyer soon.”

Her grandmother’s forehead wrinkled. “I wish you would take the house, Piper.”

Piper shrugged, guilt riding through her. “I told you I’d be glad to move in with you. It would add only five minutes to my commute.”

“Which would be wonderful for me, but not for you, dear. No, we both need to get on with our lives, but I was hoping you’d be looking for a home when I was ready to move.”

Yearning bubbled within Piper, but she struggled to maintain a calm expression. Despite its dubious location in the outskirts of Mudvil e, she
did
want the big old house she so dearly loved, and for years she’d been putting aside every spare dime hoping she’d be able to buy it someday. Her finances stil fel short of the mark, but if she received the bonus she was hoping for, she’d be within striking distance. But in case things didn’t work out, she had sworn the real-estate agent to secrecy. Piper chose her words careful y. “Gran, I can’t afford to buy this place, and I’m certainly not going to let you give it to me.”

Her grandmother shook her head and frowned. “I know Mudvil e isn’t the most exciting place to spend the rest of your life, but I did so want you and your children to have this home.”

“Gran,” Piper chided, “be practical. You have to have money to live on.” Then she grinned. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not pregnant.”

She was rewarded with a wry, wrinkled smile. “Not unless it was an immaculate conception, I’d wager.”

“Gran!”

Granny Falkner angled her head. “Real y, dear, you conduct yourself like a nun.”

Shock thickened her tongue. “I…I don’t want to talk about my, um—”

“Chastity?”

“Wel , I’m not exactly a vir—” Piper stopped and swal owed. “A Virgo.” She laughed weakly and jammed her hands on her hips in a desperate attempt to look innocent. “I mean,

I’m not exactly a Virgo,” she repeated in a squeaky voice. “B-because I’m a Pisces…as you know, Gran.” She cleared her throat noisily and scrutinized the toes of her leather clogs.

Granny Falkner laughed. “You young people think you invented sex. Wel , I’m here to tel you, your grandfather and I could have filed for a patent or two of our own.”

Piper blinked and held up her hands. “Gran, I real y don’t want to hear this.”

“Relax, Piper, I’m not going to embarrass you. I’m simply trying to get you to open up.” She reached out and ran her thumb over Piper’s cheek. “You stil don’t realize how lovely you are—with that face, you could have any man you wanted.”

“Spoken like a true grandmother.”

Sharp blue eyes, which she’d inherited, stared back at her. “Did someone break your heart, dear? Some young man in col ege?”

The concern in her gran’s face sent a swel of love through Piper’s chest. The older woman knew al too wel the grief Piper had suffered al her life. Her mother didn’t even know the name of the man who had fathered her. How could she tel her grandmother that she’d lived in fear of repeating her mother’s mistakes? That she’d been embarrassed to even introduce her outrageously flirtatious mother to the young men she dated? That she’d purposely ignored boys to whom she was attracted so she wouldn’t have to deal with the overpowering sexual rush that made people do crazy things with their lives?

Her few intimate encounters had been with timid, fumbling boys who’d been even more inept than she’d imagined herself to be. She managed a comforting smile. “I met and

dated some nice guys in col ege, but my heart is perfectly intact.”

“And is there a current beau I don’t know about?”

Piper pursed her lips, then replied in a singsongy voice. “Noooooo.”

Her grandmother sighed and crossed her arms. “I know you’re independent, dear, but sharing your life with the right person can be an extraordinary experience.”

A pang of longing pierced Piper, but she decided to make light of the comment. Her grandmother worried enough without Piper fueling the maternal fire. “Gran, I have other

priorities right now, like establishing my professional reputation, paying off school loans, maybe even building a nest egg for myself.”

“Is your job stil going wel ?” She handed Piper a red bandanna for her hair.

Piper immediately recognized the worn cloth as the handkerchief her grandfather had carried in the back pocket of his pants. She covered her hair and stretched her arms to

tie the ends at the nape of her neck. “My job’s fine. I’m starting a new project this week to persuade our biggest client to extend their contract. Wish me luck!”
If her grandmother only
knew how much was riding on the creation of one little dessert.

“Good luck, dear. But al work and no play…” Innuendo colored the older woman’s voice as it trailed off.

A sly grin broke out on Piper’s face. “Gran, I’m letting my sorority sisters weed out the eager, needy men.”

Her grandmother laughed, then wagged a finger. “Just don’t wait
too
long.”

Piper narrowed her eyes. “Have you been talking to Justine, because this is starting to sound like a conspiracy.”

Gran’s laugh echoed in the empty room and she raised her arms in defeat. “Okay, I’l stop so we can get some work done.”

Piper looked around the room, struck once again by the unfamiliar emptiness. She’d spent endless summers in this house, and as many weekends and holidays as possible,

since her mother hadn’t exactly been a nurturing caregiver. Panic stirred in her stomach at the sight of the furniture she’d played on as a child pushed against the wal s, queued up haphazardly as if awaiting deportation. Beneath the window stood the wooden coffee table. Her initials, which she’d carved with her grandfather’s Swiss army knife when she was seven, were stil on the leg. And next to it, the armless padded rocking chair Gran had sat in when she sewed while Piper sprawled on the floor, stringing buttons with a dul ed needle.