Something Different/Pepper's Way (32 page)

“Damn.”

“Checkmate.”

“Arrested in Paris, were you?”

“Eavesdropper.”

“Always. Why were you arrested?”

“Jaywalking.”

“Funny.”

“Great comeback.”

“I’ll do better next time.”

“Do that.”

“If not a spy, you were a smuggler.”

“Was I?”

“That was a dumb move. I think my guess hit close to home.”

“Ridiculous.”

“Admit it—I shook you that time.”

“Not a chance.”

“You’re awfully small to be a smuggler.”

“I fit into small places.”

“True.”

“Check.”

“Ah. Wasn’t a dumb move after all….”

“You know—something’s just occurred to me.”

“Did anybody ever tell you that you could talk the hind leg off a donkey?”

“Now, that’s the pot calling the kettle black with a vengeance!”

“Funny man. What’s occurred to your busy brain?”

“I don’t know your last name.”

“You don’t know my first name.”

“What? What’s Pepper then?”

“A nickname.”

“You mean I don’t know either of your names?”

“Nope.”

“I’m living with a lady whose name I don’t know?”

“Looks that way, doesn’t it?”

“Well, hell. Tell me then.” “Sorry. You waited too long to ask.” “I’ll ask Mrs. Small.” “She won’t tell you.” “I’ll find your driver’s license.”

“It’s in the van and you promised not to go in there.” “Dammit.” “Checkmate.” “What?”

“I’ve caught on to your little game now, guy. And two can play it. We’ll see who psychs out who.” “Great. That’s just great.”

“We could arm-wrestle. I’m sure you’d win at that.” “You’re a lot of help.”

seven

THAT FIRST WEEK SLIPPED BY AND THEN A
second one. Pepper received calls from her friends from time to time, calls to which Thor listened unabashedly and from which he learned absolutely nothing concrete. The clients came and were groomed and left. Meals continued to be exotic. The truce went on.

Since it was always her recipes and never her cooking that Thor sampled, he challenged her assertion of being able to cook on Mrs. Small’s next day off. Pepper pulled out all the stops, whipping up culinary masterpieces that would have had the great chefs of Europe crying into their bouillabaisses. By the time a groaning Thor pushed himself away from the table that night, he willingly conceded that Pepper could, indeed, cook.

Thor complimented her solemnly on her “wonderful little feminine talents,” which goaded Pepper into sitting up three nights running to knit a scarf for him. She presented the scarf and asked sweetly if he had any buttons that needed sewing on… socks to be darned?

He asked if she did windows, and got hit in the middle of his chest with a ball of yarn.

And the truce went on.

But it was wearing thin in spots.

Pepper was finding it increasingly difficult to be relaxed in Thor’s company. She caught herself watching him with a fixed intensity, and had to bite her tongue more than once to keep from blurting out in plain words how she felt about him. She tossed and turned at night, restless, her body punishing her for sticking to her rules. When she looked at Thor, a desperate need to touch him haunted her.

There were times when she would have willingly and deliberately broken her rules, times when the need to belong to him—however briefly—tortured her. And it wasn’t the fear of defeat that kept her from breaking her rules, but a new fear of what would happen afterward if she did. She had discovered that love was not a gentle emotion, and that it was not something she’d be able to put behind her without regret. When— if—she had to leave him, it would be bad. Very bad.

Toward the end of that second week their relationship altered in a far from subtle manner. And it was all Thor’s fault. Whether he realized that she was wavering or was just following his own instincts, he’d apparently decided that a truce didn’t necessarily mean a laying down of
all
arms.

Along those lines he employed the one weapon Pepper couldn’t fight with her wits or her ability as a gameswoman, the one weapon that would break her in the end if anything did.

He began to act like a lover.

It was small things at first. A light touch. A playful slap on the fanny. A hand toying absently with her hair whenever he was near enough—and he almost always was. A kiss on her nose.

Then the light touches began to linger, and the kisses fell
on her lips more often than on her nose. He watched her like a cat at a mousehole, and his smile made her increasingly nervous. He smiled at her, she thought, as though she were chocolate cake… and it were time for dessert.

“You’re staring at me.”

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“I like staring at you.”

“It makes me nervous.”

“Good.”

“What d’you mean,
good?”

“I want to make you nervous.”

“Again,
why?”

“I believe I told you once that these days a man needs every edge he can find or steal.”

“Get Brutus off the coffee table, will you?”

“Changing the subject?”

“Why don’t we roast marshmallows?”

“You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

For the first time in her life Pepper had the uneasy suspicion that she’d painted herself into a corner. And though she was not a woman given to panic, Pepper was halfway there. Falling back on her wits, she decided finally to show Thor a few more puzzle pieces in the hope that it would distract him from his own strategy. And since she always felt uncomfortable talking about herself, the tactic called for a couple of her nutty friends.

It didn’t take her long to choose between them. After casually asking Thor if he minded, she called Cal and Marsha Brenner and invited them to visit. They were more than willing to drive up from New Hampshire, mostly intrigued by Pepper’s current residence and what she was doing there. Of all
her friends they were the friendliest and most talkative, and she had no doubt that either of them would talk about her to Thor if he asked.

Pepper wasn’t quite sure what she hoped to accomplish by the tactic. She told herself sternly that Thor needed to know more about her, but a wry little voice in her head said that she just wanted a buffer for a day.

She ignored the voice.

The Brenners arrived late on Sunday morning, driving their beat-up Mustang and radiating good humor. Introductions were performed, and all four stood for a while near the garage and talked casually.

Cal Brenner was average in height and build, with a lazy voice and rather penetrating blue eyes. His wife, Marsha, was several inches taller than Pepper and had copper-colored hair and green eyes. She was quite strikingly beautiful. Her voice was deep and rich and seemed constantly full of laughter.

The conversation was innocent and causal at first, consisting mainly of descriptions of the scenery along the newcomers’ route from New Hampshire. But it took an abrupt and bewildering turn within moments of their arrival.

Marsha, who had been watching Pepper narrowly for some time, suddenly emitted what sounded like a gurgle of suppressed laughter. Then the laughter was gone as though it had never existed, and she was leaning forward slightly. Placing her hands on Thor’s shoulders, she gazed up into his startled eyes with an expression of heartrending pity.

“Oh, you poor man!” she said intensely.

Thor stared at her blankly for a moment, then looked over at Pepper. She was leaning against her RV and gazing pensively
up at the clear blue sky. Helplessly Thor turned his pleading eyes to Cal.

The other man stood with arms folded across his chest. Obviously taking pity on his host’s bewilderment, he said gravely, “You’ll have to excuse my wife. She’s always wanted to be an actress; sometimes she gets carried away.”

“I can’t bear it!” Marsha wailed suddenly, turning away from Thor to prop an arm against the garage and rest her forehead on it. “I can’t bear it—another free spirit shackled!”

A bit desperately Thor asked Cal, “What part’s she playing now, Lady Macbeth?”

Marsha momentarily dispensed with the histrionics to tell him reprovingly, “You don’t know your Shakespeare.”

Thor shook his head slightly to clear the mists, then glanced at Pepper again. She was solemnly studying her fingernails and whistling softly between her teeth. He looked back at Cal. “D’you mind throwing a little light on the situation?”

Cal looked thoughtful. “Well, as I said, Marsha wanted to be an actress. But before Broadway or Hollywood could discover her, Pepper did. And Pepper gave her to me.”

“I beg your pardon?” Thor asked, thoroughly baffled now.

“Threw her at me actually. Of course, she was throwing me at Marsha at the same time. A veritable clash of the Titans. It took nearly a year, and some fancy footwork, but our Pepper got the knot tied in the end.”

“I’m still in the dark,” Thor protested.

“She’s a matchmaker, you know. Renowned worldwide. In fact, I personally know of one sheikh who’s taken up monogamy because of Pepper. Shocked his entire kingdom. An Arab sheikh without a harem? Boggles the mind.”

While Thor was still swimming through the seas of bewilderment, Marsha lifted her head and directed a stern glance at
Pepper. “Does he go to his fate blindly unsuspecting?” she asked.

“Oh, no.” Pepper smiled gently at Thor. “He’s been warned.”

Marsha abandoned her role to turn around and lean back against the garage. “Boy am I going to enjoy this! We ought to sell tickets; the whole gang would turn up for ringside seats.”

“Somebody tell me what you’re talking about,” Thor requested, but he already knew.

Marsha smiled at him, devilment dancing in her green eyes. “Well, since my husband has been at great pains not to put the matter bluntly, I’d be glad to. You see, we have a slight advantage over you; we’ve known Pepper longer. So we know that once Pepper gets her hook into a fish,
he’s landed.”

Thor looked from her laughing face to Cal’s bland one, and then at Pepper. She was still smiling at him. “I see. I’m the fish.”

Marsha nodded. “That’s it. And what makes it so enjoyable for us is that Pepper has never hooked a fish for herself before. Her footwork this time should be well worth watching.”

Dispassionately Cal said, “She doesn’t look it, and God knows she doesn’t sound it, but Pepper is the most dangerous woman I’ve ever met. Heart of gold, mind you, but ruthless as hell.”

Thor stared at Pepper. “I think I should have paid more attention to that warning.”

“Too late now,” she murmured, and came forward to link her arm with Marsha’s. “Come along, friend. Let’s go and see what we can dig up in Mrs. Small’s kitchen.”

“Isn’t it Thor’s kitchen?” Marsha asked interestedly.

“No. His home and her castle.”

“Ah. Lead the way.”

They strolled off.

Thor stared after them for a moment, then looked at Cal. “And I thought Pepper was the only nut. I think there’s a tree-ful of them. No offense.”

“None taken.” Cal grinned. “Welcome to the tree.”

“It isn’t an accomplished fact, you know,” Thor reminded him, wondering if he should be worried that he felt more amused than trapped.

“Isn’t it?”

Thor decided to avoid the polite question. He leaned back against the Corvette. “So tell me—since you’ve known her longer—about Pepper. One short paragraph, if possible.” Thor was determined to find out everything he could from these friends of Pepper’s, no matter how underhanded it might be to pump them.

“Can’t be done, I’m afraid.” Cal smiled slightly. “Unless you’d like the definition we’ve accepted for years.”

“Which is?”

“That Pepper is an enigma wrapped up in a puzzle within a mystery—followed by a question mark.”

“How long have you known her?”

“Ten years. She was three years behind me at Stanford.”

“Stanford?” Thor blinked. “Well, well. She didn’t mention that.”

“Uh. Phi Beta Kappa. Summa cum laude.”

Thor’s eyebrows rose. “Didn’t mention that either. What else hasn’t she mentioned to me?”

“Probably most of her life.” Cal shrugged slightly. “She’s an odd one, our Pepper. Doesn’t talk much about herself. What she does say is just mentioned in passing—people she’s met, or places she’s been. She doesn’t try to be mysterious, she just thinks that other people are more interesting than she is. Our gang, the crowd formed during college days, has pieced together some things. But not much.”

“For instance?”

Cal looked at him directly. “Does it matter?”

Thor met the steady gaze and realized that Pepper had loyal friends. And that this one, at least, wasn’t going to reveal anything about his friend to a man with only a casual interest. “It matters,” he told Cal, and knew then that it
did
matter. Dammit, it was no longer a game—if it ever had been. And, whatever it was, he was no longer certain that he wanted to win.

Without pushing or questioning, Cal simply nodded. “She was born and raised in Texas, but since she hasn’t been back there in more than ten years, we assume she doesn’t consider it home.”

Thor was a little startled by this first bit of information. Texas? An odd coincidence. She certainly didn’t possess a Texas drawl; in fact, her breathless little-girl voice had no accent of any kind. A result of her years of travel, perhaps? Before he could consider the matter further, Cal was going on.