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  Strange, she thought, that Matt would suggest she borrow his girlfriend’s clothes without consulting her first. But then again, the girl obviously had more than she needed.

  She started looking through the gowns one by one, and soon she was losing herself in the parties and balls they spoke of, the afternoon cocktail parties, the wining and dining and dancing, the glitz and the glamour. Suddenly, Nicky felt that spending a night here was as foreign and exotic an experience as any she could imagine. She’d been to other countries before, but she’d never stepped into another life. Another way of being, thinking, acting…

  Acting. Yes, that’s what she was supposed to be doing. And these clothes offered her the perfect costume. She ran a hand along the silky fabric. They were even her size, more or less.

  Nicky hummed to herself. Yes, she’d take Matt up on his offer and wear something nice to dinner. Something he normally saw only on his girlfriend. Then she might actually see him squirm. And maybe, if she could get under his skin a little, he would open up and tell her everything about his betrothed.

  In the meantime, she’d better capture some of this evidence. Quickly, she walked back to the bedroom and retrieved her camera from the chair, adjusting the shutter speed as she returned to the closet. It may not be adequate proof to confirm the existence of Matt’s absent girlfriend—she still needed to get shots of the woman in the flesh—but this was a good place to start.

  Nicky finished the roll of film, closed the closet door, and put the camera down on the bed. Then she spotted what looked like an oasis to her tired eyes. Leading off on the other side of her room was a bathroom sparkling at her with its shiny white tiles. She began undressing immediately, deciding a shower was just what she needed to help her face an evening with Matthew Anderson.

  But as she stepped naked into the cool, citrus-scented bathroom, Nicky was reminded of her body’s earlier response to Matt. The moisture was still there between her legs. She was warm and juicy as an overripe piece of fruit.

  How was it her body could be so sure about wanting a man she’d never even heard of until today? Nicky frowned as she bent over the tub and ran the water, adjusting the temperature to counter that of her body.

  But as she stepped in, she knew it was going to take more than a cold shower and a fiancée’s dress to make her feel cool, calm, and collected tonight around the smoldering heat of those dark, sumptuous eyes.

  * * * * *

  Matt whistled to himself as he opened the cupboards in his small kitchen. The room had actually been built as an extension of the main kitchen area, sort of a kitchenette once used by the servants. But these days, the bigger kitchen was only employed for large, formal occasions, when Matt would bring in a chef from one of the local restaurants. In general, he preferred the homespun feel of this smaller room in which to conduct his own culinary experiments.

  There were plenty of part-time domestic staff on the premises during the week. But most of the time, it was only Frank and him using this kitchen, cooking for themselves and eating their simple meals together. It had been months since they’d had a guest for dinner. Maybe this was the reason he felt so inspired tonight. Or could it be that he actually wanted to impress his guest?

  He had to admit, he liked Nicky Evans and that spunky, defiant personality of hers. Yes, he had to say, it had been some time since he’d seen such strong character. The women he met in his social circle tended to be frail, both in body and mind. They were often so pampered, they had no idea how to function in the real world.

  Matt finally located the fresh pasta and pulled it out of the refrigerator. As he measured out enough for three, he caught a glimpse of Frank’s calendar of events pinned on the wall.

  Dammit, his birthday was coming up fast. When push came to shove, he had to admit he was in quite a bind. There was no sense pretending he didn’t care about losing his position as president of Anderson Press and director of their newspaper, the Independent Courier.

  Of course, no matter what, everything would still remain in the family. He wouldn’t lose his inheritance—his father had made sure of that. But good old Dad had drawn up provisions for both the company and all family assets to fall to the leadership of his nephew, should Matt fail to marry.

  Which irked the hell out of him. Larry Anderson was continually calling him up these days, asking him questions about the company, as if he was going to waltz right in and take over.

  Well, come August first, he could do just that, Matt hastened to remind himself. Larry Anderson, a man who knew next to nothing of the newspaper industry. A man who couldn’t tell good journalism from tabloid trash. What was his father thinking? So the guy had a wife and two point two kids—that didn’t prove he was capable of running a paper. The whole thing flared his temper whenever he thought of it.

  Matt winced as he chopped some onions, trying to keep the juices from irritating his eyes. He simply had to figure something out before August. But what? Could he really produce a wife in only four weeks?

  He opened the lower cupboards and brought out a frying pan, his mind returning to his attractive guest upstairs. One thing was sure—it would take more than a great dinner to catch a wife, and just plain luck to find a woman he actually felt something for. But he figured dinner was always a good place to start.

  Now, what kind of sauce? What type would suit a girl like Nicky Evans? A girl who looked delicious enough to eat… Just the thought of tasting her made his groin tighten. Spicy, he thought. Definitely spicy…

  Matt searched through his assortment of dried spices until he located the chili. Measuring a generous amount into the frying pan, he thought about Nicky’s hair. The chili was that same shade of burnt red, and just as potent. At the last minute, he threw in another tablespoon, deciding he wanted to give her something that would definitely whet her appetite.

  Yes, why not have a bit of fun with Nicky? Keep her here for a while. Then maybe he could turn this frustrating situation around and make it work for him, at least temporarily.

  He poured some olive oil into the pan and stirred it into the chili. Sure, he’d give Nicky the evidence she needed in order to convince his mother, Larry, and everyone else that Matt Anderson had a prospective bride.

  With one scoop of his large hands, he picked up the chopped onions and added them to the pan, then he turned the heat up high and waited for them to sizzle. Yes, this could all be very flavorful if not entertaining. And who knows? Perhaps, in the end, his mother’s meddling would work out to his advantage.

  Chapter Four

  When Nicky emerged from the guestroom that evening, she felt like a new person. Or, at least a different person. Never in her life had she worn such stylish, outrageously expensive clothes. She’d finally settled on a plunging, red chiffon dress. She had to admit, it was a little on the revealing side with its frilly, halter-style top that left most of her back bare. But the cut fit her perfectly, as if it was made just for her. For Nicky Evans—not the woman in Matt Anderson’s life.

  She made her way down the wide, second-floor hallway, using the space to get used to the matching red pumps. Catching a glimpse of herself as she passed by a decorative, baroque-style mirror, Nicky decided she was starting to look more like the part she was playing. More like a sophisticated magazine photographer and less like an underpaid private eye.

  She smiled at her new self and kept walking. It wasn’t that she wanted to encourage more lingering handshakes from her host. Not at all. She simply couldn’t resist wearing something so sensuous when she had the chance. And, after all, if she was going to be someone else, she might as well live the fantasy and indulge a little.

  Following a pleasant aroma that was now drifting through the house, Nicky found the staircase leading to the lower floor. The smell of simmering spices made her aware of how hungry she was, but she took her time descending the staircase, her new heels clicking pleasantly on each step.

  Now she felt ready to slip into her new role, and, thanks to Matt’s
girlfriend, she was more than dressed for it. She was even prepared to take some pictures of the house, her camera dangling from her left hand, the flash already attached and ready to go. In her other hand, she carried a list of interview-type questions she’d drawn up in her room. She was planning to go through each one with Matt over dinner, giving her something to ponder aside from how wonderfully his body was put together.

  She hoped to get on his good side, and, in so doing, get him to offer some intimate details of his private life. It would work all right, if she could just keep her physical desires reined in and her head screwed on straight.

  Continuing to follow the mouthwatering aroma, Nicky soon found herself on the lower floor, heading into the dining room. The older gentleman was there, setting the table with all the flair one would expect from a butler. She noticed he had shed his formal jacket and was wearing his white shirt, black vest, and matching tuxedo pants. In his hands were crystal glasses and real silverware.

  “I see you found something that fits,” he said, nodding approvingly. “You look lovely.”

  Nicky smiled back, feeling more than a little self-conscious now that she was being scrutinized.

  “Why don’t you relax for a while in the sitting room, Miss Evans?” he suggested, gesturing towards the next room. “Dinner won’t be long.”

  She nodded, grateful to have something to do. She stepped into the pine-scented room, which boasted a fireplace and soft furniture. As with every other room at Lindenfield, it was a little world unto itself. Her eyes swept the moss green walls displaying paintings of landscapes in various seasons, mostly Impressionistic. And as she looked at them one by one, she reveled in the discovery that Matt seemed to share her taste in art. In fact, he had the exact same print of a Monet that she had hanging in her apartment.

  Wait a minute, she thought, staring at the Monet. That is no print! With a gasp, she realized she had been standing in a room full of priceless originals.

  Several minutes passed before she became aware of the butler standing behind her. “What a nice room, Mr.…” she began, turning back.

  But he raised his hand, stopping her. “Please, just call me Frank.”

  “Thank you, Frank. And I’m Nicky,” she replied, raising her camera and snapping a picture of him before he knew what had happened. When she lowered the lens, she realized she’d succeeded in wiping away his serious expression.

  “I see you’re rather good at your job,” he said, his chuckles dissipating. “You must enjoy it.”

  “Yes, I do. That is, most of the time,” she bluffed. “Of course, it’s always nice to get stuck in a mansion overnight.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” a smooth but brazen voice responded from the dining room.

  Nicky felt her pulse surge as Matt stepped into the room, his earth-colored trousers and crisp white shirt partially hidden beneath a full-sized apron.

  “You…” she began, on the verge of laughing. “You’re doing the cooking?”

  “And why is that so surprising?” he asked, folding his arms across the apron.

  “Oh, no reason I guess.” She tried to shrug off her reaction, but a broad smile had made its way to her lips.

  “I know. People always think a man who lives in such a place must not do anything for himself. But just ask Frank.” Matt nodded in the direction of the butler, who was also smiling. “I handle most of the cooking around Lindenfield, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, he certainly does,” Frank readily agreed. “Believe me, Nicky, you’re in for a real treat tonight.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll soon see about that,” Matt said, rubbing his hands together and glancing at Frank. “I believe everything’s ready. Shall we?” He stepped back from the entrance to the dining room, making way for Nicky.

  But before she could tell her feet to move, Frank had slipped through the doorway ahead of her, leaving the two of them alone.

  Nicky started make her way into the dining room. But as she walked, she heard Matt’s voice following close behind, drifting over her bare shoulders, a deep whisper that seemed to kiss her skin and left goose bumps in its wake. “You look beautiful. Did I tell you that yet?”

  She paused, then spun around to face him. “No…but thank you,” she stammered.

  He gave her a subtle smile as he removed the apron, slowly pulling over his head. Part of her wanted to help him, to continue peeling away the layers until there was nothing left for him to hide behind. Nothing but skin—his smooth, gleaming skin, beautiful as wet sand.

  Her eyes lingered on him as he folded up the soiled apron and put it aside. His hair was slightly damp from the shower, and his white shirt brought out the richness of his dark features, the luminous golden tan of his skin.

  “You seem to be a man of many skills,” she commented. “Fixing cars, cooking. Is there anything you can’t do?” She traced her hands along the backs of the plush dining room chairs as she sidled away from him.

  “Not yet.” he replied suggestively. “I’ve never come up against a challenge I couldn’t meet.” He gave her a secretive smile as his eyes roamed over her bare arms, sending shivers up the back of her neck. “But then again, I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

  Nicky felt the air stop in her lungs. Meanwhile, his eyes dropped to the camera and list of questions in her hand. “Am I being interviewed? I thought your magazine was more interested in Lindenfield than its inhabitants?”

  “Oh no, not really. It’s up to me what direction the story takes,” she replied, tossing her hair over her shoulders. She wanted him to see the pair of diamond earrings she’d found on the dressing table in her room. Thinking they might have been a gift to his girlfriend, she’d put them on. Now she was waiting for some kind of reaction from him.

  But he hadn’t even noticed. Instead, his gaze was focused on her face, her eyes. “Well, I for one can see this story taking on a whole new direction.”

  Nicky felt the effect of those velvet-soft words, and their inherent promise, on her heartbeat. “Do you mind if I…sit down?” she heard herself mutter. Suddenly, it was difficult to balance herself on her borrowed red pumps.

  “By all means,” Matt replied, responding swiftly by pulling out a chair for her. “You must be hungry. Frank?” He made sure she was comfortably seated before disappearing into the kitchen.

  Nicky used the few minutes alone to catch her breath. She placed her camera and list of questions down on the table beside her and tried to steady herself. He was partly right. She was hungry and overtired from all the driving she’d done, not to mention getting lost and walking half a mile under the hot sun. But there was more to it than that. Much more. Matt’s presence was playing havoc with her nerves, not to mention the chaos he was creating in other parts of her.

  “Dinner is served,” he announced, reappearing with Frank behind him, who was rolling in a cart crammed with plates of steaming food.

  “It looks wonderful,” she said in all honesty, peering at the various dishes as Frank began to serve her. And before long she was truly enjoying her food. Linguini with prawns cooked in a spicy tomato sauce, grilled summer vegetables with basil and thyme, tossed salad with orange pecan dressing, and a California blush to wash it all down. The wine was the perfect sweetness, light and breezy as the summer evening they were sharing. And although Nicky rarely drank, she couldn’t say no to a second glass. For dessert, there was a choice of lemon pound cake, or old-fashioned apple pie with ice cream, her favorite. She chose both.

  Of course, Matt accepted all the compliments she could offer, throwing her a series of grins that were even more delectable and tempting than the food.

  Dessert was followed by coffee and chocolate truffles. And despite what Matt might think, Nicky hadn’t been blind to the liqueur he was freely pouring into her cup of coffee. Sitting back in her chair, she had to admit the wonderful dinner had relaxed her to a comfortable degree.

  But as she gazed across the table at her handsome host, she also
knew there was such a thing as being too relaxed. And Matt’s attentive gaze was definitely pushing those boundaries.

  Whatever she did or didn’t do tonight, she had to remember one thing—to hold onto her heart. This man was apparently a master at seducing women, and she had to make sure she didn’t become one more of his conquests. But the fact that she was incredibly attracted to him did nothing to make that pitfall any easier to avoid.

  “May I have more?” she asked, holding out her cup to him. “Plain coffee this time, please.” He smiled as she looked down at the third question on her list.

  That was as far as they’d gotten, which, to her mind, wasn’t a good start. And all of Matt’s answers had been purely factual. Information about the history of the mansion, things which a magazine article would need to include, but all of it was irrelevant to her actual assignment. Of course, it was her fault. She was the one who’d made up the questions.

  “So, what’s next on your list?” Matt asked, leaning across the table toward her.

  Nicky sighed as she glanced at his dark, chocolate brown eyes that were at once playful and mysterious. She was still far from knowing anything about him.

  “To tell you the truth, I’m sick of this list. Why don’t we just talk?” she suggested, tossing the paper in the air and allowing it float to the floor like a dead leaf. She took a deep breath and another long gulp of her coffee, realizing too late that Matt had completely ignored her last request. There was enough liqueur in it to make her very tipsy if not drunk. And she knew what happened to her libido whenever she drank too much. It skyrocketed, while all sense of discipline and decorum went out the window. A dangerous prospect, especially tonight.

  Just then, she felt something brush against her ankle. She instinctively pulled her foot back and was about to look under the table when she saw Matt’s mischievous eyes and realized it was him. Great, now he was playing footsie with her. She felt a stirring deep inside her, and a tingling in her extremities at the thought that he was openly trying to seduce her.