Manhunting in Mississippi (11 page)

Ian picked up his pen and made notes of his own at the bottom of the sheet.
Soft, creamy and sensual.

The refreshing sorbet chil ed his tongue and, thankful y, his expanding desire. With his heart pounding in relief, he picked up another spoon and turned to the parfait. He knew he was doomed, however, when he withdrew the utensil only to find a round, red cherry dangling from the end.

His gaze darted to Piper, who seemed mesmerized. She licked her lips slowly, then said, “Of course, the cherries are local, er,
grown
local y, that is.”

“Of course,” he murmured. Figuring it was best to get it over with, he plunged the spoonful into his mouth. This time, instead of torturing himself with a slow contemplation, he kept his eyes off Piper and nearly swal owed the portion whole. Natural y, the cherry lodged in the back of his throat. He swal owed painful y several times, lapsing into a coughing fit as a finale. She sprang up and retrieved a glass of water, which he grateful y accepted.

At the bottom of the sheet she passed him, he wrote
should be savored, not rushed.

He swirled the sorbet around in his mouth and used the napkin to wipe the perspiration from his forehead.

“Ah, chocolate,” he said, slicing a fork into the pinkish two-layer cinnamon cake dripping with dark icing. He shoved in a mouthful and crushed together the rich icing and

surprisingly spicy cake. Piper seemed to be captivated by the notes in front of her. He swal owed and reached for the fact sheet.

She glanced up and met him halfway, staring at him with an odd expression in her eyes. When her rosy tongue appeared and made a leisurely trip around her lips, he forgot

what he’d intended to write. Stone-stil , he watched as her tongue reappeared and reached new lengths in its second trip around her bow-shaped mouth. This time he doubted the cold taste of the sorbet would be efficient to douse his burgeoning erection. She leaned forward and pointed to a spot above the corner of her mouth. Then he realized she was trying to tel him he had something on his face. Chocolate icing, no doubt.

He wiped his mouth with the napkin, but she shook her head. He wiped higher, then lower, but she shook her head and giggled.

“I’l get it,” she offered. She stood and took his napkin, then dabbed at the corner of his mouth. Ian sat perfectly immobile, catching a whiff of something medicinal as she leaned close to him. Smal and wel -shaped, her hands were free of jewelry. He gulped a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The desire to pul her down into his lap was overwhelming. Almost involuntarily, he reached up and encircled her wrist.

She went stil , pul ing back a mil imeter, her breath suddenly ragged. In her wide eyes, he glimpsed the fire lurking just beneath the surface. “You’d better let me,” he declared.

Ian released his grip and took the napkin from her shaking hand.

“Okay,” she whispered, then straightened. “More water?”

“The colder the better.”

“I think I’l join you.”

While she prepared the much-needed neutralizer, Ian found the fact sheet and wrote
sweet on the outside, fiery on the inside.

Piper set down a glass of water next to him and hurried back to her own seat so quickly a few drops sloshed over the edge.

For the phyl o-pastry creation, Ian abandoned utensils, which seemed like a good idea until he bit down and the fil ing oozed over his fingers. The buttery paper-thin pastry dissolved against his tongue, al owing the rich, gooey caramel to flood his taste buds. He groaned his pleasure and rol ed his eyes heavenward. Another bite finished off the pastry, and Ian’s fingers were halfway to his mouth before he remembered he had an audience. He stopped, midmotion, and glanced up guiltily.

Piper sat with her dark eyebrows raised, an amused smile on her face. “I take it the caramel pastry is your favorite?”

“Um, yeah.”

She laughed into her hand, her shoulders shaking.

Ian laughed, too, but mostly out of sheer pleasure at seeing her happy again. He tried to clean his sticky hands with the napkin, but gave up and walked over to one of the three utility sinks to wash. He walked back to the table, drying his hands on a paper towel.

Stil grinning, she slid the fact sheet in front of where he stopped to lean. “Unfortunately, it’s by far the most expensive choice.”

He scanned the sheet. “Ouch.”

“I know—we could try to get co-op dol ars from Conner’s caramels, but even though they own the market, I personal y doubt the brand name is strong enough for you to benefit.”

“Disappointing, but true, I’m afraid,” Ian agreed. Across the bottom, he scribbled
desirable, but out of reach.

“I’l have more samples for you tomorrow morning,” she promised. “Lots of chocolate.” She scratched lightly along the neckline of her blouse. “Then you can make your selection.”

“Al ergies stil bothering you?” he asked.

She nodded and stood, rol ing her shoulders.

“I happen to be a great back-scratcher,” he offered.

“I’l have to take your word for it,” she said with a wry smile. “We’re finished here, if you have something else to do.”

Patting his stomach, he laughed. “I’d like to work off a few of the calories I just consumed.” Another faux pas in light of the sexual y charged atmosphere, he realized a syl able too late. At her “now, now” expression, he sighed. “I think I’d better go before I say something I’l
really
regret.”

He shuffled the fact sheets, reviewing each one as he placed them in his briefcase.
Soft, creamy and sensual…should be savored, not rushed…sweet on the outside, fiery on
the inside…desirable, but out of reach.
It didn’t take a psychology degree to see where his mind had been during the sampling session. Shaking his head, he glanced up to find Piper watching him, her mouth set in a straight line, her eyes rueful. Beautiful, funny, sexy. And some other man held her affection. The thought made his gut clench.

“Tel me, Piper,” he said slowly, “is your assistant, Mr. Enderling, from Mudvil e?”

She shook her head. “No, Ohio.”

“Long way from home,” he observed.

“Rich and I met in col ege at MSU.”

“Ah,” he murmured, pressing down the brass tabs on his briefcase. “And may I ask who fol owed whom to Mudvil e?”

She shrugged and began clearing the table. “Edmund offered me the job and said I could hire my own assistant. Rich and I had stayed in touch, and when I mentioned the job to him, he jumped at it.”

Jumped at the chance to be with Piper, Ian thought. Wel , he couldn’t argue with the man’s taste. And from what he’d seen of the local offering of eligible bachelors, Piper had made a wise move in bringing her companion to town. “There, um, don’t seem to be a lot of men in town like Mr. Enderling,” he offered, thinking the mild compliment was the least he owed her after last night.

At the sound of the tray clattering against the table, he glanced up to find her eyes blazing. “Mr. Bentley,” she said evenly, “I certainly don’t intend to discuss Rich Enderling with you of al people.”

He’d hit a nerve. Apparently their romance was on the rocks, which explained her participation in the kiss he’d initiated last night.

Piper stalked toward the door, then turned back and threw him a smirk. “By the way, Mr. Bentley, I do hope you sleep better tonight.”

Ian suspected she might have slammed the door had it not been hydraulic. After replaying his idiotic words in his mind, he decided his briefcase would suffice, and banged it shut with both hands.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Forget about his stomach—jealousy is the quickest way to a man’s heart.

“I’M JUST NOT SURE
what to do.” Granny Falkner smiled sadly.

“You stil have time to think about the offer,” Piper assured her, fighting to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She ran a dust mop along the baseboard of “her” room, the guest room where she’d slept since childhood. The white iron bed sat naked, devoid of sheets, the mattress piled high with boxes of linens and whatnot.

“Maybe I’l be less sentimental after I’m tucked away at Greenbay Ridge.”

“Probably,” Piper agreed.

“I asked the real-estate agent to contact this Mr. Warner and find out exactly what he has in mind, although once he buys the house I suppose he can do anything he chooses

with it, no matter what he tel s me.”

“Perhaps we’re jumping to conclusions, Gran. Maybe the man is rich and simply wants a country getaway.”

“Perhaps.” Suddenly her grandmother stopped and leaned on her broom. “Addy Purdue told me you were in the pharmacy last night talking to a strange man.”

Piper tossed a wry smile over her shoulder. “Are you sure she wasn’t referring to her son Gary?”

Gran laughed. “I don’t think so. Fess up.”

Determined to keep her mixed emotions about Ian a safely guarded secret, she forced a casual note into her voice. “There’s nothing to confess—his name is Ian Bentley. He’s

from Chicago and he’s an important customer. I’m trying to come up with a new dessert for a line of coffeehouses he owns.”

“Oooh.” Her grandmother’s voice dripped with suggestion. “Have you known him long?”

Piper hid her warm cheeks by reaching for an elusive cobweb. “We nearly rammed each other in the parking lot yesterday morning, then I made a complete fool out of myself by

spraining my ankle. He carried me into the building—”

“
Carried
you?”

She nodded, her stomach lurching at the memory. “Only then did I discover he was the infamous restaurateur I was supposed to wow with an irresistible dessert.”

“Oh my.” Gran’s shoulders shook with mirth, and she hid her mouth behind her hand. “Forgive me, my dear. And have you been able to impress him with your banana-cream

trifle?”

“He’s al ergic to bananas.”

“Oh.”

“But he
loves
chocolate.”

“So that explains why you’ve been scratching al evening.”

“Except he’s difficult to please—I haven’t been able to come up with a winner yet.”

Her grandmother’s blue eyes twinkled. “You wil .”

Piper glanced around the empty, beloved room, keeping her deeper worries to herself. “I hope so.”

“So it was pure chance that you ran into him at the pharmacy?”

Piper stretched to run the mop over the top of a window frame. “I was buying al ergy medicine, he was buying toothpaste. Mr. Purdue gave me a painkil er for my ankle, but Gary failed to tel me until I’d taken it that I shouldn’t drive.”

“And let me guess—Gary offered you a ride home?”

“Yep.”

Gran pursed her lips. “That boy might be smarter than I thought.”

Piper laughed. “Wel , at any rate, since Gary wasn’t quite ready to leave, Mr. Bentley offered to drop me off.”

“And is this Mr. Bentley single?”

Piper took a deep breath. “Sort of.”

Her grandmother’s pale eyebrows rose. “Separated?”

“No. He’s considering a marriage proposal.”

“Oh. Wel , this is the nineties, after al .” Granny Falkner cocked her head to one side. “It sounds like the two of you are rather wel acquainted if he’s discussing his love life.”

The dust mop slipped from her hands and clattered to the floor. “It just came up in conversation.”

“Before or after he made a pass at you?”

Piper jerked her head up and laughed nervously. “Gran, I real y don’t think—”

“Piper.”

She sighed and bent to retrieve the mop. “Okay…after.”

“And are you involved with him?”

“No.”

“But you’d like to be?”

Piper hesitated too long to fool her grandmother. Suddenly exhausted, she sat heavily on the floor and sagged against the wal . Tears sprang to her eyes. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

“Hey, hey,” her grandmother chided, joining her on the floor. “I’ve never seen you shed tears over any man, much less a man you just met.”

“That’s just it, Gran,” she mumbled miserably. “We’re attracted to each other, I think, but he’s completely wrong for me—even if he wasn’t almost engaged. He’s, he’s too…

charming and sexy and arrogant.”

“Henry Walden is arrogant, too.”

Piper frowned, lol ing her head to the side. “Addy Purdue caught you up on al the gossip, didn’t she?”

The other woman nodded. “And that Walden man doesn’t even have anything to back up his arrogance.”

“Henry’s not so bad.”

“Piper, you shouldn’t settle for ‘not so bad.’”

“At least Henry lives in Mudvil e.”

Her grandmother propped up her chin with her palm. “I’ve heard Chicago is nice.”

“Mudvil e is my home. I want to be near you, Gran.”

Gran slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m glad you want to be close to me, dear, but you have to think about your future.”

Piper scoffed. “I am, but my future is
not
with Ian Bentley.”

“Never say never.”

“He’s getting married, Gran.”

“He doesn’t love the woman, Piper. He just hasn’t admitted it to himself yet.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because if two people are real y in love, they can’t contemplate a future without each other. He’s stal ing.”

Piper refused to be mol ified. “He’s stil al wrong for me.”

“If that’s so,” her grandmother said, reaching forward to wipe her thumb over Piper’s cheek, “then why the tears?”

Her eyes wel ed again, but she didn’t want to burden her grandmother with al the muddled thoughts in her head. Things were not turning out the way she’d planned. She’d

embarked on a manhunt to marry a nice country fel ow. She’d live in her grandmother’s house, raise two wel -adjusted children and eventual y retire from Blythe Industries. It was a sensible plan, solid, dependable, safe—al the things she’d sworn her life would be someday.

“I’l make you a deal,” her grandmother offered, squeezing her shoulders. “I won’t worry if you won’t worry.”

Piper sniffed mightily and faked a smile. “Deal.”

“Good. Now, let’s get these boxes out to your van. I’ve got three days to get everything in order.”