Unexpected Bride (11 page)

"Now who's the uptight one?" he leased.

He hadn't been the first to call her uptight. She'd never slept around. "I don't like talking about my personal life."

But that hadn't stopped everyone in town from asking her personal questions. She'd been able to handle their nosiness, though, only giving them the information she wanted to share. About her business. The employment agency for specialized temps. Nothing personal. The problem with Clayton was that Abby wanted to share more with him. She wanted to prove to him she wasn't the out-of-control girl she'd once been.

"There are no secrets in a small town," Clayton reminded her.

"I know." That was why she hadn't wanted to come back.

But at least now, from listening to all the gossip, she knew about Clayton, about how hard he'd worked not only to keep his father's business but also to expand it. She also knew about the other duties of his father's that he'd assumed—city councilman, Rotary Club president and school board member. No wonder he hadn't found time to fall in love.

"I don't intend to stay," she stated.

"You're going home in the morning?" he asked, his tone guarded.

She'd expected him to be more hopeful or relieved that she was leaving. She hated to burst his bubble of anticipation. "I'm going to stay a little longer than I planned."

"You're going to wait until you hear from Molly, to make sure she's okay?"

She nodded, moving her head against his shoulder, and waited for him to ask about the note. She had no doubt that he wanted to read it, that he wouldn't trust her to relay Molly's entire message.

But the question he asked surprised her. "So are you ever going to answer Lara's question?"

"About her father?" She tensed. "I don't know. How do you tell a child that her father didn't want her?" Her parents had usually told her that when they were drunk, hurling the accusation at her just like the empty beer cans and cigarette butts they'd tossed around. She hadn't asked to be born, and she hadn't planned to ruin their lives. But still they'd blamed her, just like everyone else. And she never wanted Lara to feel the way she had.

His hand slid from her back as he wrapped his arm tightly around her, as if he were hugging her. But Clayton McClintock wasn't a hugger. "He actually said that?"

"He gave me money." Emotion choked her throat. She couldn't say what he'd given her the money for. She couldn't think about what he'd wanted her to do.

"Oh, Abby." He leaned his forehead against hers. His face so close, they only had to move a hairsbreadth for their lips to touch, to taste.

Abby drew in a shuddery breath. "It's okay. His loss."

"A big loss." Of both Lara and Abby. Clayton pulled back at the thought, surprised he'd come so close to kissing Abby Hamilton. Again. He'd almost kissed her the night before, as well. He'd leaned so close then that he'd tasted her breath against his lips.

"What kind of man shirks his responsibilities?" He couldn't fathom walking away, despite all the times he'd been tempted to run.

"You'd be surprised," she murmured.

"Oh, I can imagine your type." Exciting. She'd never go for someone boring. Abby would need someone who could hold her attention, who could challenge and stimulate her. "Some bad-boy type. A biker. Or a lead singer in a rock band."

A laugh sputtered out of her. Her smile stole his breath away. "Actually, Lara's father was a lot like you."

"What?"

"A man I thought I could trust." Or she never would have slept with him. "He was an insurance adjuster."

"I'm an insurance
agent,"
he said. "Big difference." But his lips lifted in a grin as he mocked himself. "I really figured you for a biker babe."

"Leather miniskirt? Tattoos?" Would his opinion of her ever change? He was determined to think the worst of her.

His throat moved as he swallowed hard, then nodded.

She'd almost gotten a tattoo. Back in high school she'd talked Molly, Brenna, Colleen and their friend Eric into going to a tattoo parlor in Grand Rapids. But Clayton, home from college for the weekend and working on a tip from Rory, had tracked them down before Abby had been able to get hers. Of course, when she'd seen the needles, she'd been magnanimous and had insisted everyone else go before her.

"It's your fault I don't have a tattoo," she reminded him. He'd told the tattoo artist that she wasn't eighteen yet, and she hadn't been able to prove him wrong.

He grinned slightly. "You could have gone back after your birthday."

"Other things were going on then." Her expulsion. Clayton's dad dying.

"So, no tattoos?"

She shook her head.

"No leather?"

She bit her lip. "I didn't say that."

His grin grew, creasing his cheeks again as his eyes lit up. She never would have guessed that when she came back for Molly's wedding she would wind up flirting with Clayton McClintock.

"I have a leather jacket," she teased him, and then she sighed as if bored with herself. "So, no tattoos. No leather miniskirts. You don't know me at all, Clayton."

She was right—he didn't know her. But he suddenly realized that he wanted to. Who had Abby Hamilton become once she left Cloverville, besides a mother? Who was she as a
woman ?

"And I'm not going to be around long enough for you to get to know me.
Your
loss."

Last night she'd sworn she was leaving right after the wedding. Even if she hung around town a couple more days waiting to hear from Molly, she wasn't staying longer. There was no risk of involvement.

With his knuckles under her chin, he tilted up her face. Her lips lifted in that sassy smile she'd always flashed at him. Eight years ago he'd been tempted to wipe that smirk away. For the first time in a long time, Clayton gave in to temptation.

He dipped his head and brushed his lips across hers. She tasted sweet, like the buttercream frosting on the five-tier wedding cake. Clayton had never had much of an appetite for sweets until now. But suddenly he couldn't get enough. He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue between her soft, silky lips.

Abby melted against him, her body trembling in his arms. When he lifted his head, she blinked up at him, dazed.

"Clayton..."

"It's been a long day." And now he'd lost his mind along with his control. He had no business kissing Abby Hamilton in the middle of a dance floor, surrounded by the entire town of Cloverville. His clients, his neighbors, his friends, his family.

He swallowed a groan. He would never live
this
down. He could almost understand how she felt about the statue of Colonel Clover still standing as evidence of her youthful indiscretion. But while she would leave again, Clayton was like the colonel, a permanent fixture in Cloverville. He only hoped that she'd leave town before she ran him down and broke him like she had the colonel.

Just as she had in the church, Abby gathered up her skirt and ran.

Well, she couldn't quite manage a run, not as she bumped into dancing couples and spinning children, like a pinball bouncing off the flippers in the machine in the back of the Cloverville pool hall. She smiled and murmured, "Excuse me," and hoped that no one would notice she was fleeing the man who was standing alone in the middle of the dance floor.

Still tempted to race back to him, to kiss him again, she turned away and pushed through the guests. When people tried to stop her, she just smiled and shook her head. She wouldn't be stopped by the busybodies who either wanted to interrogate her or sing Clayton's praises.

Her lips still tingling from his kiss, she could sing praises of her own. Who would have known Clayton McClintock kissed like that? She'd imagined many times, in her misspent youth, what it might feel like to have his mouth pressed to hers. But even her vivid imagination hadn't come close to the reality.

She grabbed her purse from the wedding party table and dashed toward the exit, grateful that the reception hall was close enough so that she could walk back to Mrs. Mick's house. She needed air; she needed to clear her head.

"What are you doing?" someone asked in a low but thoroughly feminine voice.

Brenna. Of course she'd catch Abby. She'd always been the mother among their group of friends, taking care of everyone else. They'd all figured she would be the first to marry and have children—many, many children. But at twenty-six she was still single, her only offspring the various branches of her parents' bakery she'd opened since taking over the business.

The door Abby had just pushed open provided a glimpse of the tree-lined street, the setting sun shining through branches. Then it swung shut, leaving Abby inside and faced with the consequences of kissing Clayton McClintock. Brenna had to think she'd lost her mind. Abby drew in a shaky breath before turning to face her friend. "What do you mean?"

"Are you leaving already?"

Her breath escaped in a ragged sigh. Apparently Brenna hadn't witnessed the kiss, nor had she heard about it yet.

"I promised Lara I'd tuck her in." Even though her daughter would prefer to have Clayton say good-night.

Longing dimmed Brenna's bright green eyes. It was so obvious she wanted a child of her own. "Of course. She's sleeping in a strange bed. You need to be with her."

Abby's heart softened with concern for her friend. As much as Brenna loved kids, she should have several by now. But the voluptuous redhead had had even more trouble dating than Abby had. After discussing their misadventures, they'd both decided dating wasn't worth the effort better spent on other areas of their lives. Perhaps that was why they'd both been so successful in their work.

Abby pulled Brenna close for a commiserating hug. "You'll find someone," she murmured into her friend's ear.

The woman pulled back, her eyes wide with shock.

"What?" Abby questioned Brenna's wide-eyed stare.

"Abby Hamilton sounding like a romantic?"

"Blame it on the wedding," she said. As her gaze returned to the man standing on the edge of the dance floor, she knew whom to blame for her odd mood.

"The wedding that wasn't," Colleen said as she joined them. 'That's what everyone's calling it."

Someone opened the door behind Abby, and cool air rushed over her skin, raising goose bumps. She'd come so close to escaping. But Colleen must have witnessed or heard about Abby's weak moment.

If she had, the girl kept her secret; and it wasn't the only secret she and Abby shared. "So you think Molly's really okay?" Colleen asked. "That she just needs time, like her note said?"

Abby's guilt increased. Instead of thinking about Molly, she'd been thinking about her friend's brother. She reached into her purse and checked her cell phone. "No messages."

Brenna shook her head. "I think she meant that she needed more than a few hours."

Colleen sighed. "She also said she wanted time
alone.
Do you really believe she's alone? When I called Eric, he said he hadn't seen her, but..."

"Eric would lie for her," Brenna said of their fourth friend, the one who'd skipped the wedding entirely. They'd all called him., but he claimed he hadn't seen the runaway bride.

"He'd do more than lie," Abby reminded them. She doubted that much had changed in eight years.