May The Best Man Wed. Darlene Scalera
she’d ever heard such unfettered enjoyment. Her shoulders eased from the rolling wave of it alone. Such a dangerous man.
“That’s why you won’t have a drink with me?”
She realized she’d been staring at that mobile, full mouth. She stopped her own smile that had come uninvited. “Why do you want to have a drink with me?” Her voice had become as honestly earnest as his had been tempting. For a moment, the element of surprise was on her side.
“I like you.”
The surprise rebounded to her, but stayed concealed beneath her dry tone. “You like me?”
“You’re fascinating.”
She would have rolled her eyes, but she refused to show reaction. She knew good and well she was hardly the kind of woman men found fascinating. That was her sister’s department, along with the vast bevy of breathy, curvaceous beauties that after tobacco and cotton seemed to be the South’s greatest crop.
She propped her chin on her fist. “How so?”
“For starters, you’ve been the only one not to accuse me of putting evil ideas inside my brother’s head. That’s as close to a defense as I’ll get within a hundred-mile radius of these parts.”
She let him study her.
“How do you know I didn’t tell McCormick to chuck it all and take off for the wide-open spaces?”
She looked into his eyes. “I don’t.”
His laughter was so close this time it seemed to sing inside her.
“But I don’t believe in condemning a man without cause.”
“Many would say a man’s past is enough cause for conviction.”
“And I would say everyone makes mistakes. I’m not fascinating. Merely fair.”
“But that’s not all I find intriguing.”
She pressed her lips together and waited.
“With the wedding right around the corner—”
“Eleven days.”
“Eleven days.”
His smile aggravated her.
“Your fiancé scribbles you a note and hightails it out of town. Do you sob your eyes out, scream epitaphs or consider contacting someone named Carmine in New Jersey? No, you sit here cooler than my Aunt Raybelle’s prize-winning key lime pie.” His voice lowered. “Fascinating.”
She sensed his observation wasn’t entirely complimentary.
“So according to you, right now I should be a woman destroyed, collapsed somewhere, clutching my chest, writhing and wailing ‘why me?”’ she said without inflection.
He kept his voice velvet. “It would be something to see.” That damn smile.
“It might amuse you—” his smile wasn’t widening, was it? “—but I find such self-indulgence unbecoming.” Her chin still set on her fist, she examined his extravagant features. She wasn’t sure for how long—seconds or centuries. “You don’t think I love your brother, do you?”
The upper hand of surprise was again to her benefit but, as before, only fleetingly.
“You must know by now that what I think is of little importance in this family.”
“Well, I’d like to know what you think.”
He paused a moment too long while Savannah told herself she didn’t care.
“If that plucky little speech you just delivered inside was for real and you weren’t just blowing smoke to buy some time before your father puts out an APB on McCormick, then I’d say my brother is a lucky man.”
She smiled carefully, not wanting to reveal relief. “Or I’m a foolish woman?”
“People in love are always fools.” His amusement was gone, leaving only darkness on the man’s features. A darkness that could encourage the doubts Savannah had been battling since she had opened McCormick’s note.
“Anything else you would like to know about me?” She was anxious to end the interview before doubts gained strength, insisted she succumb.
He didn’t even hesitate. “Do you love my brother?”
“Land’s sake, what kind of a question is that?” Even she was surprised by the anger in her response. She should look away, conceal any unwanted emotion that might come to her features, but she didn’t dare.
“It seems like a reasonable question considering you’re about to marry him.”
She wished he’d step back from the car. “I may not be a woman of passions—”
“On the contrary, Ms. Sweetfield, I think you are exactly that.”
She scanned his face but found no mockery. Despite the fact emotions did seem to come too easily when he was around, he was wrong. She was a rational woman. “You would not ask me that question if you knew me.”
“But I don’t know you. And you only think you know me. So, do you love my brother?”
“I suppose you asked your brother if he loved me?” she challenged.
“Sure did.”
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. He was waiting for her to ask what McCormick had answered but she had no reason to, she reminded herself. Maybe McCormick and she weren’t the type to wear their emotions on their sleeves, but their consideration and respect for one another were as real as those who waxed poetic. Of course, Cash, a man so obviously ruled by his passions, could never understand such an agreeable arrangement. Naturally, he’d be compelled to question the relationship.
“I understand your concern.” She was bolstered by the reasonableness in her voice. “And I find it endearing that you care so much about your brother.”
His unrestrained laughter shook her to her cool core.
“Did I say something amusing?”
He actually wiped away tears. “I’m sure you’ve decided by now, darlin’, I’m the most unendearing man you’ll ever meet.”
She was careful to modulate her tone. “You do have a certain gift to provoke.”
“Ahh, you see…” His eyes sparkled. “I knew beneath that collected exterior there raged a wildcat.”
She would end up throttling him before the night was over. “What you don’t understand and have not had a chance to witness is the fact that your brother and I are a perfect match. What he wants out of life, I want and vice-versa. We’ve never even had one fight. Bottom line, I can’t imagine anyone or anything better for me than McCormick. I’m crazy for him, totally wild, absolutely gaga.”
He straightened, his laughter loose. “You’ve never been gaga in your life, Slick.”
Why hadn’t she strangled him when she had the strategy of self-defense on her side? “McCormick and I were made for each other. You can ask anyone who knows us.”
He finally stopped smiling. Still she didn’t like the expression on his face.
“I’m asking you.”
“And I answered you.” She allowed no hesitation in her voice. Yet somehow he had gained the upper hand and he knew it. “Your brother will be back in two, three days tops—”
“So you said.”
“You don’t believe he’s coming back?”
“Again, it doesn’t matter what I believe. What matters is what you believe.”
“Damn straight.” She imagined fierceness in her face and struggled to smooth her features.