That last, perfectly serious remark, startled a shriek of teary laughter from the unpredictable young woman in his arms. “Not of the United States, of a store!” she corrected him, and the gorgeous eyes she raised to his were suddenly swimming with tears of laughter now instead of despair.
“Thank God for that,” he teased, so eager to keep her smiling that he paid no attention to the implications of what he was saying. “I expect to be a reasonably rich man in the next few years, but buying you the presidency of the United States might be beyond my means even then.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“For making me laugh. I haven’t cried this much since I was a child. Now I can’t seem to stop.”
“I hope you weren’t laughing at what I said about being rich.”
Despite his light tone, Meredith sensed that he was extremely serious about that, and she sobered. She saw the determination in that square jaw, the intelligence and hard-bitten experience in those gray eyes. His life had not given him any of the advantages that it offered men of her own class, but she sensed instinctively that Matt Farrell had a rare kind of strength coupled with an indomitable will to succeed. She sensed something else about him too—that despite his arbitrary attitude and the mild cynicism she’d glimpsed, there was a core of gentleness within him. His behavior today was proof of that. She had initiated their lovemaking six weeks ago, and this pregnancy and hasty marriage was undoubtedly as disastrous to his life as it was to hers. Yet, not once had he torn into her for her stupidity or carelessness, nor had he told her to go to hell when she asked him if he would marry her—which she’d half expected him to do.
Watching her study him, Matt knew she was rating his chances to succeed and make good his claim; he also knew how incongruous that claim would seem to her, particularly now. The night he’d met her, he’d at least looked successful. Now, however, she knew what sort of place he came from; she’d seen him with his head under the hood of a truck and grease all over his hands, and he remembered that momentary flash of shock and repugnance on her face. And so, as he looked down at that beautiful face of hers, he waited for her to laugh at his pretension—no, not laugh—she was much too well-bred to laugh in his face; she’d say something condescending, and he’d know it in an instant, because those expressive eyes of hers would give away her real thoughts.
She finally spoke, her voice quiet, thoughtful, smiling. “Planning to set the world on fire, are you?”
“With a torch,” he averred.
To his complete shock, Meredith Bancroft lifted her hand and shyly laid it against his tense jaw, her fingers spreading over his cheek. The smile on her lips transferred to her eyes, making them glow. Softly, but with absolute conviction, she whispered, “I’m sure you will, Matt.”
Matt opened his mouth to say something, and he couldn’t speak; the touch of her fingers, the proximity of her body, and the look in her eyes suddenly drugged his mind. Six weeks ago, he’d been wildly attracted to her; in the space of a moment, that latent attraction erupted with a force that made him lean down and seize her mouth with hard, demanding hunger. He devoured its sweetness, stunned by his own urgency, astonished when he had to slow down and coax her lips apart, because he knew instinctively she was feeling a little of what he was feeling. And when her lips did part and begin to move with his, he was shocked by the surge of triumph he felt. Common sense fled; Matt leaned up and over her, his body already rigid with desire, and almost groaned a few minutes later when she tore her mouth from his and held her hands against his chest to keep him away. “Your family,” she gasped desperately. “They’re downstairs . . .”
Matt reluctantly dragged his hand from her bared breast. His family. He’d forgotten about all that. Downstairs it had been obvious that his father had leapt to the correct conclusion as to the reason for their sudden marriage—and the wrong conclusions about the sort of woman Meredith was. He needed to go downstairs and straighten that out, he did not need to reinforce his father’s opinion that Meredith was a rich slut by staying up in this bedroom with her right now. He was amazed he’d forgotten that; he was more amazed by his unparalleled lack of control where she was concerned. Slow, gorgeous lovemaking hadn’t been what he’d intended just then—swift, total possession had been his goal, and that had never happened to him before.
Tipping his head back, Matt drew a steadying breath and got off the bed, removing himself from the proximity of temptation. Leaning a shoulder against the bedpost, he watched her scoot up into a sitting position. She glanced uneasily at him, hastily straightening her clothes, and he grinned as she modestly covered the breasts he’d been kissing and caressing a moment before. “At the risk of sounding outrageously impulsive,” he remarked casually, “I’m beginning to find the notion of a marriage in name only not only gothic, but impractical. It’s obvious we have a strong sexual attraction to each other. We’ve also made a baby together. Maybe we ought to consider taking a shot at living like married people. Who knows,” he added, lifting his broad shoulders in a shrug, a smile tugging at his lips, “we might like it.”
Meredith wouldn’t have been more surprised if he’d grown wings and started flying around the room, then she realized he was merely tossing the idea around as a possibility, not making a suggestion. Torn between resentment at his offhand attitude and an odd kind of pleasure and gratitude that he’d even brought the idea up, she said nothing.
“There’s no hurry,” he added with a roguish grin as he straightened. “We have a few days to make up our minds.”
When he left, Meredith stared at the closed door in exhausted disbelief, completely dazed by the speed with which he reached conclusions, gave orders, and switched directions. There were very distinct and startlingly different sides to Matthew Farrell, and she wasn’t at all certain who he really was. The night she met him, she’d seen a chilling harshness in him; yet, that same night, he had smiled at her jokes, quietly talked to her about himself, kissed her into insensibility, and made love to her with demanding passion and exquisite tenderness. Even so, she had a feeling that the gentleness he nearly always showed her wasn’t necessarily his norm, and that he wasn’t to be underestimated. She had an even stronger feeling that whatever Matthew Farrell chose to do with the rest of his life, someday he was going to be a force to be reckoned with. She fell asleep thinking he already was a force to be reckoned with.
Whatever Matt had said to his father before Meredith came down to dinner was evidently effective, because Patrick Farrell seemed to accept without further challenge the fact that they were getting married. Even so, it was Julie’s determined chatter that kept the meal from being a nerve-racking ordeal for Meredith. Matt was generally silent and thoughtful during most of it. At the same time, he seemed to dominate the room and even the conversation, simply by being present and listening to what was being said.
Patrick Farrell, who should have been the head of the household, had clearly abdicated that role to Matt. A slender, brooding man with a face that bore traces of dissipation and tragedy, he deferred to Matt whenever a question came up about who ought to do what. Meredith thought him both pitiful and somehow frightening, and she continued to feel that he didn’t particularly like her either.
Julie, who seemed to have willingly accepted the role of cook and housekeeper to the two men, was like a Fourth of July sparkler; every thought she had burst from her lips in a torrent of enthusiastic words. Her devotion to Matt was obvious and total; she jumped up to get him coffee, asked his advice, and listened to whatever he said as if God Himself were rendering an opinion. Meredith, who was trying desperately not to think about her own problems, wondered how Julie had kept her enthusiasm and optimism here; she wondered how any girl who seemed as bright as Julie could willingly forsake some sort of career for a future of looking after her father, which Meredith assumed was what she planned to do. Immersed in her thoughts, it took Meredith a moment to realize Julie was talking to her.
“There’s a department store in Chicago called Bancroft’s,” Julie told her. “I see their ads in Seventeen sometimes, but mostly in Vogue. They have fantastic stuff. Matt brought me a silk scarf from there once. Do you ever shop there?”
Meredith nodded, her smile unconsciously warming at the mention of the store, but she didn’t elaborate. There hadn’t been time to tell Matt of her connection to Bancroft’s, and Patrick had already reacted so negatively to her car that she didn’t want to do it there. Unfortunately, Julie gave her no choice.
“Are you any relation to those Bancrofts—the people who own the department store, I mean?”
“Yes.”
“A close relation?”
“Pretty close,” she said, helplessly amused by the excited glee in Julie’s big gray eyes.
“How close?” Julie asked, putting her fork down, peering at her. Matt paused, his coffee cup halfway to his mouth, staring at her. Patrick Farrell leaned back in his chair, frowning at her.
With a silent sigh of defeat, Meredith admitted, “My great-great-grandfather founded the store.”
“That’s fantastic! Do you know what my great-great-great grandfather did?”
“No, what?” Meredith asked, so drawn into Julie’s contagious enthusiasm that she forgot to look at Matt to see how he’d reacted.
“He immigrated to this country from Ireland and started a horse ranch,” Julie told her, standing up and beginning to clear the table.
Meredith smiled and got up to help her. “Mine was a horse thief!” Behind her, both men picked up their coffee cups and took them into the living room.
“Was he really a horse thief?” Julie asked as she filled the sink with soapy water. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Meredith averred, adamantly refusing to turn to watch Matt walk away. “They hanged him for it.”
They worked in companionable silence for a few moments, then Julie said, “Dad’s working double shifts for the next few days. I’m going to spend tonight with a girlfriend, studying. I’ll be back in the morning in time to make breakfast though.”
Distracted by Julie’s remark about studying, Meredith overlooked the fact that she was evidently going to be alone with Matt tonight. “Studying? Aren’t you on summer vacation?”
“I’m going to summer school. That way, I’ll be able to graduate in December—two days after I turn seventeen.”
“That’s young to graduate.”
“Matt was sixteen.”
“Oh,” Meredith said, wondering about the quality of a rural school system that let everyone graduate so early. “What will you do after you graduate?”
“Go to college. I’m going to major in one of the sciences, but I haven’t decided which one yet. Biology, probably.”
“Really?”
Julie nodded and said with pride, “I have a full scholarship. Matt’s waited until now to go away because he wanted to be certain I’d be okay on my own. It’s just as well, though, because it gave him a chance to get his M.B.A. while he was waiting around for me to grow up. Although he’d have had to stay in Edmunton and keep working anyway, just to finish paying off Mom’s medical bills.”
Meredith whirled around and gaped at her. “Matt had a chance to get his what?”
“His M.B.A.—you know, master’s degree—business administration. That’s what comes after you get your bachelor’s degree,” she prompted helpfully. “Matt had a dual major for his undergraduate degree—economics and finance. Brains run in our family,” she added, then she saw Meredith’s blank shock and stopped. Hesitantly, she said, “You—you don’t know anything at all about Matt, do you?”
Only how he kisses and makes love, Meredith thought with shame. “Not much,” she admitted in a small voice.
“Well, you shouldn’t blame yourself. Most people think Matt’s hard to get to know, and you two have known each other for only two days.” That sounded so sordid that Meredith turned away, unable to face her. She picked up a mug and started wiping it. “Meredith,” Julie said, looking worriedly at her averted face, “it’s nothing to be ashamed of—I mean it’s no big deal to me that you’re pregnant.” Meredith dropped the mug and it rolled across the linoleum under the sink. “Well, it isn’t!” Julie persisted, bending down and scooping it up.
“Did Matt tell you I’m pregnant?” Meredith managed. “Or did you figure it out for yourself?”
“Matt told my dad privately, and I eavesdropped, although I’d already figured it out myself, actually.”
“Wonderful,” Meredith said, drowning in mortification.
“I thought it was pretty neat,” Julie agreed. “I mean, until Matt told Dad all about you, I was starting to feel like I was the only virgin alive over the age of sixteen!”
Meredith closed her eyes, feeling a little faint from the wild leaps of intensely revealing conversation and angry that Matt had discussed her with his father. “That must have been quite a little gossip session they were having,” she said bitterly.
“Matt wasn’t gossiping about you! He was straightening out my dad about what sort of girl you are.” That made Meredith feel immeasurably better, and when Julie saw it, she continued in a slightly different vein. “Thirty-eight of the two hundred girls in my high school class this year are pregnant. Actually,” she confided a little dispiritedly, “I’ve never had to worry about it. Most guys are afraid to kiss me.”
Feeling that some reply was in order, Meredith cleared her throat and said, “Why?”
“Because of Matt,” Julie said succinctly. “Every guy in Edmunton knows Matt Farrell is my brother. They know what Matt would do to them if he found out they tried anything with me. When it comes to guarding a woman’s ‘virtue,’ ” she added with a laughing sigh, “having Matt around is like wearing a chastity belt.”
“Somehow,” Meredith said before she could stop herself, “I didn’t find that to be exactly true.”
Julie laughed, and Meredith suddenly found herself laughing with her.
When they joined the men in the living room, Meredith braced herself for an awkward couple of hours of watching television, but Julie again took matters into her own hands. “What shall we do?” she asked, looking expectantly from Matt to Meredith. “I know, how about a game or something? Cards? No, wait, how about something really silly—” She turned to the bookshelves, running her finger past several games. “Monopoly!” she said, looking over her shoulder.
“Not me,” Patrick said. “I’d rather watch this movie.”
Matt had no desire whatsoever to play any game, particularly that one, and he was on the verge of suggesting that Meredith go for a walk with him, when he realized that what she probably needed was some relief from anything intense, which their conversation outside would undoubtedly become. Moreover, she’d established a rapport with Julie and seemed to feel comfortable with her. He nodded, trying to appear as if he enjoyed the prospect, then he glanced to Meredith for a decision. She didn’t look any more enthusiastic than he felt, but she smiled and nodded too.
Two hours later he admitted to himself that the Monopoly game had been an unexpected and unqualified success that even he’d enjoyed. With Julie as instigator, the game had immediately become a kind of farce, with both girls trying their damnedest to beat him and, failing that, to cheat him. Twice he’d caught Julie stealing the money he’d already won, and now Meredith was coming up with outrageous reasons for refusing to pay him his due. “No excuses this time,” he warned Meredith as her token landed on a property he owned. “You owe me fourteen hundred for that.”
“No, I don’t,” she said with a smug grin. She pointed to the little plastic hotels he’d put on his property, one of which she’d nudged with her finger. “That hotel is encroaching on my easement. You built on my land, therefore you owe me.”
“I’ll ‘encroach on your easement’ but good,” he threatened, chuckling, “if you don’t hand over my money.”
Laughing, Meredith turned to Julie. “I have only one th
ousand. Can you lend me some?”
“Sure thing,” Julie said, even though she’d already lost all her money. Reaching out, she snatched several $500 bills from Matt’s pile and handed them to Meredith. A few minutes later, Meredith admitted defeat. Julie went to get her books and Meredith finished putting the game away, then she got up to return it to the bookshelf. Behind her, Patrick Farrell stood up. “I’d better get going,” he said to Matt. “Did you leave the truck at the garage?” When Matt said he had, and that he’d get a ride into town in the morning to pick it up, Patrick turned to Meredith. Throughout their rowdy Monopoly game, she’d felt his eyes on her. Now he smiled—a grim, uncertain smile. “Good night, Meredith.”
Matt stood up too, and asked her if she felt like going for a walk.
Glad for any reprieve that would keep her from lying in bed, worrying, Meredith said, “That sounds nice.”
Outside, the night air was balmy, and the moon painted a wide path across the yard. They’d just walked down the porch steps when Julie came out behind them, a sweater over her shoulders and schoolbooks in her arms. “See you in the morning. Joelle’s picking me up at the end of the drive. I’m going over to her house to study.”
Matt turned, brows pulling together. “At ten at night?”
She paused, her hand on the railing, an exasperated smile on her pretty face. “Matt!” she said, rolling her eyes at his obtuseness.
He caught on then. “Tell Joelle I said hello.” She left, hurrying toward the car lights at the end of the gravel drive, and Matt turned to Meredith, asking her something that had obviously been puzzling him. “How do you know about encroaching on easements and zoning violations?”
Tipping her head back Meredith gazed at the harvest moon hovering overhead like a huge golden disk. “My father has always talked to me about business. There was a zoning problem when we built our branch store in the suburbs, and a problem with an easement when the developer paved the parking lot.” Since he’d already asked a question, Meredith asked him one that had been plaguing her for hours. Pausing, she reached up and pulled a leaf from a low branch overhead while she made an unsuccessful effort to keep the accusation out of her voice. “Julie told me you have an M.B.A. Why did you let me think you were an ordinary steelworker who was heading off to Venezuela to chase your luck in the oil fields?”