Manhunting in Mississippi (9 page)

after she’d bathed in pink chamomile lotion, and before she gave in to the descending lethargy.

She started gathering up their trash. “Thanks for the ri—”

At the sound of the car door opening, she glanced up in time to see the driver-side door closing. Once again, Ian circled around the front of the car. Piper’s stomach twisted. He opened her door and smiled, but his wolfish charm had fled. Instead he seemed…nervous. Which made
her
nervous.

“I’l walk you to your door,” he offered politely, pul ing the trash and her shopping bag from her arms.

Silently, but with her heart pounding, she got out of the car and led the way down the stepping-stone walk between her house and the Kerns’, limping. “Gary has my keys,” she reminded Ian over her shoulder. “I have to go in the back door.”

“So you weren’t kidding.” His voice floated up to her in the fal ing dusk—earlier this evening due to the cloud cover.

Her laugh sounded apprehensive even to her own ears. “No, I wasn’t kidding.” Her ankle throbbed, her stomach churned and her skin burned. Piper walked the short distance

to the back of the house, turned right, crossed the tiny patch of grass that masqueraded as her backyard, then climbed the four steps leading up to the rear door.

His leather-soled shoes padded lightly on the steps behind her, like a countdown. With her back to him, Piper opened the door and pushed it inward, then spun around with a

wide smile to relieve Ian of his load. But whatever clever parting line had been on her tongue eluded her when her gaze met his in the near darkness. He stood on the next to last step, a good six inches below her, which put them nearly eye to eye, hand to hand, and mouth to mouth. They were close enough to see, touch…and kiss.

She sank her teeth into her lower lip to stave off a groan of sheer desire and reached out to empty his arms. With a half pivot, she deposited the bags on the counter just inside the door, then realized her mistake when she turned back: both of them now had empty arms. She crossed hers, giving herself a white-knuckled hug. “Thanks,” she said, nodding, her smile just as tight as her grip on her arms. “Ian,” she added, stil nodding.

He remained silent, during which her mind played several versions of how this evening could end—and only one of them would al ow her to face herself in the mirror tomorrow.

She turned to step inside.

“Piper.”

Was it a question? A statement? She wasn’t sure, but the word
yes
was not going to pass her lips, so she simply turned back and raised her eyebrows, hoping he could see them in the shadow of the stoop covering.

“I’d like to kiss you right now.”

Her tongue seemed glued to the roof of her mouth.

“Did you hear me?” he whispered, shifting forward slightly.

She meant to laugh, but the noise came out sounding like a sigh. Piper cleared her throat and tried again. “I think, Mr. Bentley, that my ears are the only part of me that doesn’t itch or hurt.”

“Of course,” he said quickly, inclining his head. “I’l leave so you can rest.”

At that moment, the light on the Kerns’ back stoop came on, and Lenny himself stepped out. He stood about thirty feet away, with his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his camouflage pants. No shoes and no shirt. Piper felt half relieved, half loath to see him.

“Hey, Piper,” he bawled. “What’s shakin’?” He spit through his teeth into the grass below, then leveled a stare at Ian.

“Boyfriend?” Ian murmured, obviously amused.

“No,” she said, exasperated. “Hey, Lenny.”

“You stil comin’ over for cake? I found one with pink icing left over from the bowling banquet that got rained out.”

Piper exhaled noisily. “Tel your mother I’l be there in a few minutes, Len, okay?”

“Okay.” He didn’t move.

“Go on, Len.”

“Okay.” He spit again, glared at Ian, then went inside.

“Turn out the light, Len,” she cal ed. A few seconds later, the light went off.

She looked at Ian and bit back a smile.

He grinned, too, shaking his head. Then his smile dissolved and she watched in slow motion as he reached up and pul ed her against him. His mouth met hers, stealing her

half-formed words of protest, his breath cool and sweet against her fevered tongue as his strong arms surrounded her.

Her knees buckled and she lost herself in his kiss, al owing herself to be swept away by the surge of adrenaline and desire. Longing struck her low and deep, warming the

juncture of her thighs. She moaned and fel into him, pressing her body against the hard wal of his chest. But when she felt his erection hard against her pelvic bone, she froze. Her eyes flew open and she pul ed back, splaying her hand against his chest.

His breathing ragged, he stared at her, stil holding her loosely around the waist. “Piper—”

Sanity returned in a rush. Mortified, she stepped backward until she felt the hard wooden door against her shoulder blades. “Ian,” she said, her chest heaving, “I can’t do this.”

A frown creased his forehead for a split second, then he shoved his hand into his hair and exhaled heavily. “Okay…but can I ask why?”

She pressed her lips together, her ire rising. “Why?” She crossed her arms. “Wel , actual y, two things come to mind.”

He looked bewildered, inflaming her further. “Two things?”

“Two,” she repeated through clenched teeth. “You’re a valued customer of Blythe Industries…”

“And?” he asked, eyebrows high, obviously unconvinced that their business relationship posed a substantial barrier to a one-night stand.

“And?”
White-hot anger cleared a few cobwebs in her head. She gestured toward his ring with irritated exaggeration. “
And
you’re a m-married man.”

Ian’s expression clouded for an instant, then his gaze darted to his hand. Piper rol ed her eyes.
As if he’d forgotten he was wearing a wedding band.
She sighed, disappointed.

“Look, I’m sure there are lots of women who don’t mind the fact that you’re supposed to be committed to another woman, but I’m not one of them.”

He didn’t speak, but simply stared at his ring. Suddenly, the day’s events descended upon her: the worry of earning the bonus, the humiliating incident in the parking lot and an afternoon with her worst al ergen for the sake of her job. On top of it al , now the medication was pul ing at her limbs, weighing her down.

She blinked back hot tears of frustration. “How ironic that I meet you at the very time in my life when I’m trying to sort out the pros and cons of having a committed relationship.”

Piper tried to laugh. “Good night, Mr. Bentley. Go back to your motel room and cal the woman who thinks you’re being faithful.” Piper stepped inside and closed the door with a solid thunk.

Ian stared at the door for a ful minute before returning to his car in a daze. Inside lingered the smel of the greasy burgers and fries they’d shared mere moments before, amidst lighthearted banter. He couldn’t remember enjoying a woman’s company more—asking Piper for a kiss had seemed proper, and extracting the kiss had seemed…necessary.

He jerked his head around at the sound of someone rapping on the car window. Piper’s spitting neighbor stood outside, stil glaring. Setting his jaw, Ian buzzed down the

window. “Yes?”

“Don’t you be bothering Piper,” the man warned.

What was his name—Len? “I have no intention of bothering Piper,” Ian assured him.

“It’s a good thing, mister.” Spit Man jerked a thumb into his own chest. “Because that’s
my
job.”

At a loss for words, Ian was glad to be distracted by the sight of two vehicles coming down the narrow road. He recognized the pharmacy guy driving Piper’s van, and realized morosely that the rest of Ms. Shepherd’s cavalry had arrived. He lifted his hand in an acquiescent wave to her neighbor, then turned over the engine, backed out and headed toward the motel.

Darkness had descended, making finding his way back a little tricky on the secondary roads lacking streetlights. Gritting his teeth, Ian whacked the steering wheel hard with his left hand. Too late, he remembered the ring. Waves of pain bounced through his hand and up his wrist. Ian cursed several times, each time louder than the last, until his voice reverberated inside the car.

Never before had he felt like such a colossal jerk. He’d told himself he wouldn’t al ow another woman to distract him from the decision he needed to make about Meredith, and instead, he’d kissed the first beauty who crossed his path—a woman with whom he also had to work, and who was apparently wrestling with a personal decision similar to his…Did she have a lover? Ian dragged his hand down his face. Of course a woman like Piper had a lover.

Tomorrow he would apologize to Piper, but tonight he would cal the woman who thought he was being faithful.

CHAPTER SIX

When it comes to forgiving, be a lady. When it comes to forgetting, be an elephant.

“NO MAN
is worth al this,” Nurse Browning said, surveying the rash on Piper’s chest and arms. She shook her head, clucking. “Nice underwear, but if you don’t lay off the chocolate, the hunky boss man won’t want to get close enough to see it.”

Piper smirked and rebuttoned her blouse over the lacy bra. “I came for medical care, not therapy,” she said, reaching for her lab coat.

Janet shrugged. “Not much I can do about the rash. Just keep using the lotion and don’t scratch—it’s not very sexy.”

“Enough already.”

“Ah, come on, Piper, you can tel me.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Has he made a pass at you yet?”

A night of staring at the ceiling, mul ing over Ian’s kiss, had left her psyche feeling more raw than her rash-ridden arms and chest. Piper leaned forward and lowered her voice to the same octave. “He’s married, Janet, repeat after me—‘mar—ried.’” Then she straightened and smiled. “Besides, I have a date tomorrow night.”

Her friend’s eyes widened. “With him?”

Piper’s smile vanished. “No, not with him! Haven’t you heard anything I just said?”

“Rich?”

She wondered if Janet suspected the truth about her assistant. “Uh, no.”

“Who then?”

“Henry Walden.”

Worry creased the woman’s freckled face. “You’d better watch Henry—that man has more hands than Timex.”

Piper scoffed. “You’re trying to push me into the arms of a married man, but you’re warning me about Henry?”

“At least that other fel ow seems like a gentleman—Henry’s a Casanova.”

“Surely he won’t try anything on the first date.”

Looking sympathetic, Janet shook her head. “You’d better take a Bible with you.”

Squinting, Piper angled her head at the red-haired woman. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“A Bible is the best defense a girl can have—just hold it between your knees al night.”

“Since
you
are going to be struck by lightning,” Piper declared, standing and reaching for her purse, “
I
am getting the heck out of here. Thanks for re-wrapping my ankle.”

“Don’t mention it. Say, are you working with what’s-his-name this afternoon?”

Piper sighed. “You mean, Mr. Bentley?”

“Yeah.”

Piper checked her watch, trying to maintain a calm exterior. “He’s supposed to meet me in the lab in about an hour.”

Janet leaned on a tal counter, resting her chin on her palm. “Wel , since
you
don’t want him, do you think you could manage to nick him with a paring knife? Just something superficial that might require a stitch or two?”

Piper wagged her finger in warning. “
You
need help.” Laughing, she negotiated the short trip upstairs to her office, forcing herself to focus on her work instead of the fact that she’d be with Ian al afternoon. She grabbed a pack of peanut-butter crackers from the vending machine for lunch—tasting sweets al morning had dul ed her appetite. And the worst of it was that she hadn’t yet hit a home run with any of the chocolate desserts she’d created. They’d al ended up down the disposal.

After propping up her twinging ankle, she made a couple of phone cal s and caught up on some paperwork she’d been putting off. She had just gathered notes for her dreaded

meeting when the phone rang. Half hoping the cal er would be Ian canceling, she picked up the receiver.

“Piper Shepherd.”

“Piper, dear, it’s Gran.”

She smiled into the phone. “Gran! What a nice surprise.” When her grandmother did not immediately respond, she sat ramrod straight. “Is something wrong?”

“Not real y. Actual y, it’s what I’d hoped for.”

“What?”

“An offer on the house.”

Piper swal owed and gripped the phone. “An offer? Th-that’s great, Gran. Anyone I know?” If she couldn’t have the house herself, perhaps the house would at least be bought by a nice family.

“The Realtor told me his name is Benjamin Warner.”

“Warner? Is he from around here?”

“No, Boston.”

Trying to force cheer into her voice, Piper said, “He must be a tourist.”

“I don’t think so.”

Alert to the timbre of worry in her grandmother’s voice, she asked, “Is there something you’re not tel ing me?”

“The agent told me the man was especial y interested in the zoning specifications where the house sits.”

“There
is
no zoning outside of Mudvil e city limits.”

“I know,” her grandmother replied irritably. “A person could build a funeral home in their backyard if they wanted to.”

“You think he plans to use the house commercial y?”

Granny Falkner sighed. “The Realtor told me from the beginning it would make an ideal bed-and-breakfast.”

Piper’s heart sank. “And you think that’s what this Warner fel ow is going to do?”

“It makes sense.”

“Has he offered the price you’re asking?”

“Yes, but I’m not so sure I want to see my home turned into a hotel.”

“Do you have to give him an answer right away?”

“No, the offer is good for seven days.”

Which might give her time to secure that bonus and match the offer, Piper thought frantical y. Of course, she’d be eating pork ’n beans into the foreseeable future, but she didn’t care—she wanted her grandmother’s house.