Secrets In Texas. Carrie Weaver
it’ll be hard. You shouldn’t have to disguise your wit and strength. But it’s necessary.”
She cleared her throat and glanced away.
He wondered if he’d revealed too much. He also wondered why compliments bothered her.
Matthew stepped back. “Fortunately my interest in you is something my uncle will understand, as well as the hasty marriage. As long as I appear to be training you in the ways of our people, chances are good he will accept this impulsive wedding.”
“I hope that sexist crap in the lobby was an act.”
He nodded, uncomfortable with the half-truth. A part of him wanted to make Angel his own. But not by resorting to trickery.
Angel placed her suitcase on the bed and opened it. “What is this?” she demanded.
Glancing over his shoulder, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the look of sheer revulsion on her face.
Angel held the pastel long-sleeved cotton nightgown between her fingertips as if it were something poisonous.
“That’s your, um, nightwear.”
“No way.”
“Yes way. Those are the clothes a good Zion’s Gate wife wears. Very conservative and demure.”
“Demure, my ass.”
Matthew laughed. “No, your ass is anything but demure, Angel. The point is, nobody but me is to have a clue about your, um, attributes.”
Angel’s face grew pink.
He was intrigued. The tough-talking, independent policewoman was embarrassed by a relatively tame flirtation.
“Maybe this monstrosity is a good thing.” She glared at the offending garment. “At least you won’t get any ideas. It’d take a satellite GPS to find me in this sack. Where on earth did they get this horrible stuff?”
Matthew took a deep breath. “It’s my mother’s.”
Angel’s eyes widened. “Oh, God, Matt, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. I mean, I’m kind of nervous here and I get a smart mouth on me when I’m nervous and say stupid things and—”
Matthew’s hurt evaporated. He pressed his finger to her lips. “Shh. Apology accepted. You ought to know the rest of the clothes were my mother’s when she lived at the Zion’s Gate compound in Arizona. That was before Jonathon moved the group here. Besides being practical, one of the profiler types thought my mother’s clothes might strike a chord with Uncle Jonathon. My mother was the one who got away. He probably has a hot button or two where she’s concerned.”
Angel placed the nightgown on the bed, smoothing the fabric with her fingers. Her tenderness was almost his undoing. She might talk and act tough, but there was a sensitive core she couldn’t quite disguise.
Removing a dress from the suitcase, she tilted her head. “It, um, looks like it should fit. I assume it’s not supposed to be flattering, uh, show off my figure…um, well, you know what I mean?”
A smile tickled his mouth. There was something so charming about her.
“No, the intention is to avoid inciting impure thoughts.”
“It should work then.”
Matthew laughed, enjoying her immensely.
“Damn. I did it again, didn’t I?”
“Did what?”
“Stuck my foot in my mouth. Your mom was probably wearing these same clothes or something similar when your uncle Jonathon had the hots for her.”
“It didn’t occur to me exactly that way, but yes, you’re probably right. But then again, I’m not sure whether he was attracted to my mother because she was beautiful or because my father loved her with his whole heart.” Memories of the bond his parents had shared was one of the few things that had kept him sane in an insane time and place.
“As you said, your mother was the one who got away. But your uncle had something like twelve wives. How could he miss one or two?”
If only she knew. But he hoped like crazy Angel never experienced the depths of his uncle’s possessiveness.
CHAPTER THREE
FRESH FROM THE shower, Angel tied the belt of her fluffy, white Venetian-issue robe. She combed tangles from her wet hair as she peeked over Matthew’s shoulder, watching him remove a flat rectangular box from his suitcase.
“A board game?” she asked.
“Scrabble. I’m tired of card games. Old Maid pretty much did me in.” He smiled, tilting his head. “Are you always this curious?”
“After spending two days in a hotel room with me, you need to ask?”
“I haven’t even scratched the surface.” His gaze roved over her robed figure. “But I guess I’ll have to be content with knowing you are very curious. And sleep with a gun under your pillow.”
Her face flamed. “You’re lucky you didn’t get shot.”
He raised his hands. “Now I know not to detour on my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night.”
“You were standing there watching me. It was a little creepy.”
“Creepy is a matter of perception. I was just getting my bearings in a strange location.”
“Yeah, right.”
His lips twitched. “It was worth a try, huh? I assure you I’m no Peeping Tom. But I couldn’t pass up the chance to study you. You put up a lot of barriers.”
“And they’re there for my protection.”
“I’m sure it’s necessary in your line of work.”
Angel glanced away so he wouldn’t see the uncertainty in her eyes. “Yeah, in my work.”
“What about when you get to know someone? Do you relax then?”
“It takes a long, long time for me to trust.”
“Why’s that?” His voice was low.
“It would mean I trusted you if I told you the story. And I definitely don’t.”
“Fair enough. So what have you learned about me?”
“Who says I’m interested in finding out about you?” No way was she going to admit studying him, even if it was true. Over the past two days she’d learned Matthew meant what he said and didn’t hedge the truth.
“It would be only prudent for someone in your situation. I think you doth protest too much.”
“Now I know you misquoteth Shakespeare. Which should really shock me, except I guess the Book of Mormon and Shakespeare aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“So you’re starting to see me as a person? Good. I like that.”
“Don’t get any funny ideas.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do I impress you as a laugh-a-minute kind of guy?”
“You’re a lot funnier than you give yourself credit for. As a matter of fact, it’s one of the things that surprised me.”
“Other than my charm and good looks?”
Angel made a noncommittal noise.
“What’s so surprising about my having a sense of humor?”
“Well, I’ve seen photos of the polygamous sects, and life seems pretty serious. You don’t often see someone crack a smile.”
Matthew stiffened. “I haven’t lived at Zion’s Gate since I was fifteen. I’ve lived most of my life outside.”
“Yeah,