Belonging (23 page)

"No," he said firmly. He gave her fingers a
gentle but reassuring squeeze. "I would never hurt your mother.
Never," he emphasized.

"Promise?" Her eyes demanded that he do
so.

"I promise," he echoed solemnly, then grinned
at her. "Cross my heart and hope to die." The words were
accompanied by the proper gesture, and Kim's face brightened as she
giggled.

He was still pondering Kim's unexpected
questions when the two of them entered the house a moment later. He
caught a glimpse of Angie sleeping on the sofa. Pressing a finger
to his lips, he made a game of tiptoeing the girls up the stairs
for a bath. Regardless of how much she pretended otherwise, the day
had been filled with a great deal of mental strain, and he hated to
spoil this brief reprieve for her.

He felt rather proud of himself, especially
in light of his bachelor status, because, by the time nine o'clock
rolled around, Kim and Casey were bathed and snugly tucked in
bed.

Angie was still asleep in the living room.
Flaxen ribbons of gold had come loose from her topknot and trailed
across the small throw pillow her head rested on. One hand was
tucked loosely under the rose-tinted smoothness of her cheek. Her
pale peach dress draped loosely over her breasts and hips, hinting
at the supple curves beneath. She had kicked off her shoes, and
they lay carelessly tipped on their sides under the coffee
table.

The now-familiar wave of protectiveness swept
over him. Oddly, it was the sight of her bare feet that triggered
the reaction. Matt dropped into a chair across from her, smiling as
he savored the feeling.

"What's so funny?" Angie lifted her arm away
from her eyes and stretched before sitting up.

Matt's eyes lingered on her bare feet, now
resting firmly on the floor. "Just trying to decide who you really
are, Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty."

Angie smiled without restraint at Matt's
rhetorical comment. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but she was
glad that she had. The short nap had eased some of the tension that
had marked the day.

"Are the girls upstairs?" Her hands reached
up to pin back into place the stray hairs that tickled her
cheek.

"Upstairs, tucked in tight as a drum and
clean as a whistle."

"You gave them a bath? And they're in bed
already?" She halted in the midst of slipping on her shoes and
stared across at him.

Matt chuckled at the stark surprise
registered on her face and in her voice. "Don't worry, I didn't
peek. Besides, Kim really needed a bath." He shook his head.
"Maybe I shouldn't have taken her to the Mariners' game after all.
We didn't get much batting practice in because she kept rubbing
dirt on her hands and swinging the bat around. Just like the
pros," he added dryly.

Angie's lips twitched. She had no trouble
envisioning Kim doing exactly that. "Let's just hope she doesn't
start spitting when she comes up in the batter's box."

"Uh, it might be a little late for that."
Somehow Matt didn't look the least bit repentant as he laced his
fingers across his stomach and stretched his long legs out in front
of him.

"She didn't!" Angie gasped.

He laughed at Angie's horrified expression.
"She did," he confirmed, feeling for all the world like a proud,
doting papa. "Didn't you know it's the trademark of a true
baseball player?"

"Oh, Lord," Angie muttered, but the humor of
the situation suddenly struck her, and she found her laughter
joining Matt's. "I wish I'd seen her," she reproved without heat.
"You should have woke me."

"I thought you were busy," he admitted. "I
didn't know you were asleep until we came inside. Besides, you
needed the rest." He studied her quietly for a moment, his face
pensive. "They're great kids, Angie. You should be proud of
them."

His words made her feel warm and glowing
inside. "You're really good with them," she told him
unselfconsciously. The next second, though, a faint line was
etched between her brows. "You and Linda, Matt." She broached the
subject hesitantly. "You never had any children?"

Unknowingly she had hit a nerve. The pain
reflected in his eyes dazed her for an instant, and she was taken
totally aback. "You're so good with Kim and Casey," she told him
quickly, speaking before she even realized it. "I just thought...I
mean, you'd make such a wonderful father."

"It's something I always wanted," he admitted
quietly. "In fact, I wanted the whole shot—a station wagon, a
house in the suburbs, along with a houseful of kids." His mouth
twisted in a bittersweet smile. "A baby would have ruined her
figure. Linda wanted glamour and action. I knew that when I married
her, but I thought I could change her." He stared into space as he
spoke. "In the end I felt cheated. The only kind of family ties
Linda really understood was a hand in her father's wallet."

Cheated. That was exactly how she'd felt when
her marriage began to unravel. Why was it, she mused sadly, that
when a person discovered a lifetime of happiness was just within
reach, fate cruelly snatched it away? It had happened to her. And
it had also happened to Matt.

It was but one more reason why she didn't
dare risk any involvement with this man, didn't dare risk falling
in love with him, a tiny voice whispered. Yet there was such
longing written on his face that Angie's throat clogged with some
nameless, twisting emotion that cried "liar" to that debilitating
voice in her mind.

She wanted him so much, yet she was afraid of
the tumultuous way he made her feel inside. She wanted to run and
hide and never look back. But she also wanted to reach out and
stroke away the lines of pain etched beside his mouth.

Angie did neither. Instead, she sat very
still, her head lowered, her hands clasped tightly in her lap
before she finally got up, murmuring that she wanted to check on
Casey and Kim.

A pair of disturbed gray eyes followed her
retreat from the living room. Matt eased up from the chair, tiredly
rubbing the back of his neck and wishing he'd had sense enough to
keep quiet. He must have said something to bring back unwelcome
memories. Why was it that, every time he felt they were growing
closer, something sent her running in the opposite direction, when
all he wanted was for her to run straight into his arms?

Angie was composed but subdued when she
returned downstairs a few minutes later. Matt was on the phone in
the kitchen, and she couldn't help but notice his intent expression
as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. She
gathered from his brief comments that the subject under discussion
was the note she had received earlier that day, and she felt a
sudden chill.

She pulled a quart of milk from the
refrigerator and cocoa from the cupboard. She started to take two
cups down from the rack on the wall, then glanced quizzically over
her shoulder at Matt. He nodded in response to her unspoken
question.

Busying herself at the stove, she stirred the
milk, cocoa and sugar into a saucepan. The bright lights and homey
familiarity of her kitchen were reassuring, and she tried to ignore
Matt's sharp eyes watching her steadily.

She brought the cups to the table just as he
hung up the phone. "Find out anything?" She tried not to sound
overly anxious.

He shook his head and sat down next to her.
"We could only get a couple of clear prints—-yours and Todd's."

"Damn," she murmured. "I was hoping the
fingerprints might turn up something." Thinking of what he'd told
Georgia earlier, she summoned a wan smile. "Too bad this isn't
Hollywood."

Matt's face was grave as he curled his
fingers around the cup. "We don't have much to go on, Angie. You
realize that, don't you?"

"I know," she agreed, sighing wearily. She
started to lift her cup to her lips, then lowered it before it was
halfway there. "It just now occurred to me," she said slowly, her
brow knit in concentration, "that if someone is trying to
influence my stand on the city hall issue, maybe some of the other
city council members have also been threaten—"

Matt's firm shake of his head cut her off.
"We've already checked. You're the only one." His tone was light,
but his eyes were perfectly serious as they rested on her. "Any
idea who might be on the warpath? Someone holding a grudge against
you, perhaps?"

"Enemies, you mean," she stated
unequivocally, then paused to consider who they might be.

"What about that newspaper reporter?"

"Blair Andrews?" She grimaced. "She doesn't
like me, that much I know."

"Because her uncle lost the election to
you?"

"Right." She was a little surprised that he
remembered. "But slashing tires and kidnapping cats— somehow I
can't see Blair stooping that low." Her smile was cynical. "She'd
much rather hack me to bits in one of her columns."

Matt neither agreed nor disagreed. "What
about her uncle?"

"He did resort to some rather dirty politics
during the campaign," she recalled.

He crossed his forearms on the table and
leaned forward. "Something like this?"

"Not exactly." She related in a low voice how
Bob Andrews had tried to make an issue of the fact that before his
death Evan had lost his job at the bank.

"Anyone else?' he asked when she had
finished.

Angie thought for a moment, feeling a little
like a tattletale in the third grade. It wasn't something she was
entirely comfortable with.

"John Curtis is really pushing for a new city
hall," she said slowly, then frowned. "In fact, I've been trying to
figure out all day why someone would go to such lengths to get me
to support the new building instead of renovating."

"What else?" Matt questioned skeptically.
"Money."

"But how?" She looked at him in puzzlement.
"Until the issue is decided, we can't even begin to take bids or
anything like that."

Matt rapped his fingers against the table,
momentarily lost in thought. "We don't know what or how high the
stakes are, and we probably won't until we find out who's behind
this." Angie got up to empty her cup into the sink, and he realized
the action was a signal for him to stop. "Are you okay?" he
asked.

She made a pretense of carefully rinsing the
sink before turning to face him. Facing a known enemy was one
thing, but facing the unknown was quite another. And although she'd
been telling herself all day that Matt's insistence on staying with
her was more self- motivated than anything else, as she absorbed
the genuine concern in his eyes, she realized she'd done him a
great disservice.

Silently she nodded in affirmation.

"You don't look okay." He watched her
closely. "I could use a bit more convincing."

"I'm fine. Really," she insisted, though her
smile was a little wobbly. "See?" She held out her hands. "Steady
as she goes."

His eyes never wavered from hers as he rose
and closed the distance between them. Lifting her hands in his, he
turned each one over and lightly kissed first one palm and then the
other. A ribbon of sensation shot through her veins at the touch of
his lips on her skin. He loosely linked their hands together, then
tested her grip-

"You're right," he murmured. "Steady as she
goes." When he realized Angie couldn't meet his eyes directly, he
added, "No one is going to think any less of you if you admit
you're scared."

Time marched silently on. Angie marveled that
he knew her so well. Certainly Evan never had, in spite of all the
years they'd spent together. Yet where Matt was concerned, the
knowledge both pleased and disturbed her. Still, that very
contrariness was typical of her feelings toward him.

"Even you?" she asked finally.

She felt a gentle pressure on her hands.
"Especially me." There was a strangely husky quality to his voice
she'd never heard before.

"Do you ever feel that way? Scared, I mean?"
She posed the question hesitantly.

"We all do, at some time or other."

Golden wisps of hair caressed her cheeks as
she shook her head. "It's hard to think of you as being scared,"
she whispered. "You're so... so strong."

His grip tightened on hers for an instant.
Angie was revealing more of herself than she ever had before, and
he fought the need to envelop her in his arms and never let her
go.

"You're wrong." His voice stole softly
through the silence. "Where you're concerned, I'm not strong at
all." His hands withdrew from hers, only to frame her face so that
he could stare directly into her eyes. "Because it's getting
harder and harder to keep from doing... this."

He kissed her then, a kiss that spoke of
need, of tenderness, of promises unfulfilled and promises yet to be
made. It was a soothing touch, a yearning caress that sought to
heal her hidden wounds, vanquish her secret fears and show her a
world where yesterday was forgotten and tomorrow was a golden
beacon of laughter and love.

Angie's lips trembled like the wings of a
butterfly as his mouth teased and tempted. Their flesh melded,
their breath mingled. The sensual magic of his lips on hers
filtered through her like a warm ray of sunshine, affording her a
tantalizing glimpse of paradise. Nothing on earth could have
prevented her mouth from opening to welcome the tender invasion,
the infinitely exciting thrust and parry of his tongue skirmishing
boldly with hers.

Matt's restraint fell away like glistening
beads of dew before the blazing heat of a morning sun. She was so
sweet, so warm, and she was his—his to claim, his to love. He heard
her sudden intake of breath as his hands slipped from her face to
her waist, urging her body forward.

She melted against him, her hands slid up to
test the tautened muscles of his shoulders before burying
themselves in his hair. She felt his fingers steal upward to gauge
the ripe fullness of her breast. Little tingles of excitement shot
through her as his thumb feathered over the straining peak, the
touch so light she almost thought she imagined it.