Exposed Read online

  “A stroll around the grounds?”

  She nodded.

  “With your suitcase?” Matt was standing in the dining room, staring up at her. No doubt she looked a sight with her hair still damp and sticking to her head, her eyes only half open. He, on the other hand, looked immaculate. Freshly shaved and dressed for success in dark gray trousers and a white- and gray-pinstriped shirt, his jacket draped around the back of a dining room chair. Then she noticed his sleeves were rolled up and his hands were wrapped in a tea towel of all things.

  “What are you doing up so early?” she asked, her voice still raspy.

  “I wouldn’t call seven-thirty early for a workday, would you?” He paused, his staring eyes reminding her she was also supposed to be working. “Actually, I was just helping Frank finish up the dishes from last night,” he went on, wiping his hands with the towel and throwing it over his shoulder like a truly domesticated animal. Then his voice dipped a little deeper. “You look to me as if you’re planning on leaving. That’s rather naughty of you.”

  She rolled her lower lip between her index finger and her thumb. “I was considering it.”

  He gave a look of dismay, his dark brows lifting and then falling as if she had somehow disappointed him. “Don’t you have to work on your article? Unless you have an incredible memory, I don’t believe you could write a decent piece on this house based on what we talked about over dinner. Not to mention what we did after.”

  “I do remember more than you—uh—you’d think.”

  Matt gave her a mischievous sidelong glance and nodded slowly, a smile creeping across his mouth. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She could see the laughter in his eyes combined with the glimmer of remembered passion. “It would be a pity if you left now. We were just getting to know each other.”

  Nicky felt her heart flip-flop. Now what did he want from her? Hadn’t he done enough damage to his relationship with his fiancée, not to mention her state of mind? A sex-starved woman could only take so much attention from a very attractive, and attached, man before she started to feel dejected. Matt Anderson was simply a heartache waiting to happen.

  Taking what she expected would be her last good look of him, Nicky found herself regretting the agreement she’d made about not photographing him, especially when she’d been in the position to capture every delicious luscious inch of him.

  “So tell me, are you leaving?” he asked.

  Nicky cleared her throat. “I…was thinking of reporting back to the office this morning,” she replied. “You know, develop the shots I took yesterday, and show them to my boss, see what he thinks…” Her words trailed off as she failed to think up other excuses for leaving.

  “I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but if I were you, I’d want to take a few more pictures before facing my boss,” he said evenly, removing the dishtowel from his shoulder and hanging it over the back of the nearest chair. Then he shoved his hands into his front pockets and tilted his head toward the camera slung around her shoulder. “It’s just that the first half of the roll you shot in the foyer won’t be worth much. It was too dark at that time of day to get a decent image. Now, if you go back in there this morning, it’ll be perfect.”

  Nicky’s lips parted in a silent gasp. So, he had known. He’d known the whole time she was shooting yesterday that the light hadn’t been right, and yet he hadn’t said one word. In fact, if she remembered correctly, he’d been leaning against the wall with an amused smile on his face, curiously watching her pathetic playacting.

  She pressed her lips together, barely managing to hold back a stream of profanities that were on the tip of her tongue.

  “Oh, and there’s something else,” Matt added, as he rolled down his shirtsleeves and did up the buttons at the bottoms. “I forgot to mention it at dinner.”

  “Now what?” she said too loudly, only to have her headache retaliate. She pressed a palm against her forehead to stop the throbbing, glaring back at him from beneath her fingers.

  Matt’s brows lifted with surprise. “I see you’re still not feeling the best. Didn’t you sleep well?”

  “No. I mean, I guess I did.” She screwed up her lips at her bungled words. “Just a headache.”

  “Well, in that case, maybe you should go back to bed for a few hours,” he said in a doctor-like manner, taking the jacket from the back of the chair and shrugging into it. “You can’t leave anyway.”

  She stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, just that I had Pete, my mechanic from town, tow your car here. And well, it seems all is not well.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” she huffed angrily. Except for their few hours of bliss last night, not one damned thing had gone right since she got here. And even that had been wrong. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Seems it’s several months overdue for an oil change, and your air filter is completely clogged.”

  “Yes, well, I’ll get it looked at as soon as I get back to Boston…” But her words fell away when she saw the severity of his frown. “What?”

  “I’m trying to tell you, Nicky. Your car won’t take you around the block.”

  She took a step backward and sank down onto the stairs in defeat.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got it in my shop. Pete’ll be coming back to work on it later today. I’d do it myself, but I’ve got to go.”

  She straightened up when she heard that. “Go where?”

  “To work, where else? I know I may look like a man of leisure, but that’s far from the truth of things, especially at the moment,” he said, turning to leave. “Should be back in time for dinner.”

  “Can I catch a ride with you to Boston? I really want to get into the darkroom, and…”

  “No problem,” he replied swiftly, throwing a grin over his shoulder. “There’s a darkroom next to the conservatory. It’s just been restocked with paper and chemicals—everything you’ll need is there.”

  She couldn’t keep her mouth from dropping open.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Nicky. Thanks to my father, I have lots of things, from antique cars to a fully equipped darkroom, which I often use, by the way. You see, I like to think I’m more than my possessions. I have quite a few skills too, some of which you sampled last night.”

  She felt a wave of heated embarrassment rising to her cheeks.

  “I was referring to my cooking,” he added with a devilish grin.

  “Well, it was pretty impressive,” she replied.

  “Thank you. I’m glad ‘it’ pleased you.” His eyes flashed knowingly at her as his hands dropped to his groin area and then slowly gathered the sides of his suit jacket, buttoning it halfway up.

  His prolonged gaze penetrated her, igniting her hunger for him all over again. It amazed her how he seemed able to see right through her flimsy defenses at all times, just like the way his touch had penetrated the protection of her clothes last night—straight to her hot, wet core.

  With a secretive smile, he turned and walked away, calling back to her as he strode through the dining room toward the kitchen. “Make yourself at home. I’ve left breakfast for you in the oven. Frank’ll be around sooner or later to answer your questions about the house. See you this evening.”

  And with that, he was gone, leaving her stranded and alone—just the way he had found her yesterday along the side of the road. Except now she had an added load aside from her camera and equipment. Since coming here, she had acquired a heaviness, a burden she couldn’t simply throw off her shoulders because it was deep inside her. In a place, it seemed, where only Matt could reach.

  Chapter Six

  Nicky leaned against the banister and rubbed her aching head. She knew she should have taken her car into the shop last week, but she hadn’t been able to afford it at the time.

  She allowed herself a good long, self-absorbed groan. No matter how hard she worked, it seemed she never had any savings left over at the end of the month. Okay, so she’d gotten a cou
ple of raises out of the company over the past three years, but now she was at her maximum earnings. Smith had made that painfully clear. He simply couldn’t afford to keep her around if he upped her salary any further.

  Which was another reason she should move on—find another job. One that paid better and was more in line with her career aspirations. Journalism was what she really wanted to do, but there was a negative side to pursuing that dream. It would mean starting at the bottom all over again. She’d have to get in at some dinky little newspaper and be paid peanuts to take shots of the Fourth of July parade.

  She wasn’t naïve. She knew it would take time before she made her way up the ladder of the news world, before she was doing what she called real journalism. Yes, someday she’d definitely make a career change, but right now she had to come back to earth and figure out what she was going to do until her car got fixed.

  Nicky used the banister to pull herself up. She might be in rough shape, but somehow she doubted her Honda was that badly off. She found herself wondering about Matt’s intentions again. Wasn’t it possible he was lying to her? Hadn’t he said they were just getting to know each other, suggesting she should stay awhile longer? Perhaps this was his way of trapping her, ensnaring her in his playboy web, especially after last night. After she’d given him a taste of what she could give him.

  Nicky rolled her eyes at the direction of her thoughts. She had to concentrate on finding her car in order to confirm that Matt was telling the truth. Which meant she was back to the same old problem—which way?

  She noticed Matt had disappeared through the kitchen, so somewhere back there had to be the door leading to the garage.

  Nicky plodded wearily through the dining room into a huge but remarkably untouched kitchen. Where’s that breakfast he was talking about? she wondered, looking around. The perfectly clean ovens—built into the wall at eye level—were empty and cold. The room looked like some of the restaurant kitchens she’d worked in part-time while she was in art school, except this restaurant was obviously closed for business.

  Then she spotted another exit, a swinging door with a small window in the top.

  She walked through to discover a quaint kitchen a quarter the size of the one she’d just left, and twice as pleasant. The air smelled of cinnamon, brown sugar, and fresh coffee. There was a small pine table with a sprig of daisies in a vase, along with a single place setting. For her, she assumed. Then she peered into a stove not unlike the one in her apartment. Sure enough, there was a heaping plate of French toast keeping warm inside. Well…

  And then she spotted it, the door to the outside world, to freedom. She started towards it, then realized how hungry she was. She plunked her things on the floor and turned around to open the oven door, allowing the aroma of Matt’s fine cooking to drift over her for the second time in less than twelve hours.

  Nicky was just swallowing the last mouthful of Matt’s melt-in-your-mouth French toast when she heard a rustling sound behind her. She looked up to see Frank looking back at her from the swinging door, greeting her with a warm smile. “Well, I see you’re making yourself at home,” he said, sauntering over to the counter and pouring himself a cup of the steaming coffee. “Good. You know, Lindenfield takes a while to get used to. But once you come to know her, you just don’t want to leave. At least, that’s how I’ve always felt.”

  “Actually, I was just on my way out,” she explained, hoping she was making herself clear. To her dismay, Frank seemed as intent on her remaining at Lindenfield as Matt.

  Frank leaned back against the counter, glancing casually over his right shoulder to the window behind him. “Well, I’m afraid you might have to stay,” he said, still looking outside. “Come have a look.”

  Nicky got up and joined him at the window. “Oh no,” she breathed. “What the…?”

  It was her car, floating at least six feet up in the air. And beneath the hoist were parts of the engine scattered over the ground along with a substantial amount of oil. The vital organs of her car had been removed, leaving it bleeding and lifeless.

  “That’s our Matthew,” Frank said proudly. “Always did like to tinker with cars. He built that little repair shop himself, you know. Even shingled the roof, then had the hoist put in…”

  But Nicky didn’t hear the rest of Frank’s narration. Her blood rose to the boiling point, making her heartbeat drum raucously in her ears. How dare he!

  * * * * *

  Matt couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he strode into the headquarters of Anderson Press in downtown Boston. Nicky Evans was his prisoner now. Which, after all, was only right. He knew for a fact she hadn’t even come close to finishing her job, the task of satisfying his mother’s curiosity. And only he knew just how difficult a job that was. Eleanor wouldn’t be content with his mere confession of a girlfriend, like the one he’d given Nicky last night. God knows he’d tried that approach already. What she wanted was cold, hard evidence. Evidence he didn’t have, yet.

  As the elevator whisked him up to the twenty-first floor, Matt felt confident his latest plan of action would stall Nicky’s efforts to get away. Which, in turn, would mean more female companionship, not to mention great sex for another couple of days.

  Not that he had any lack of attention from women. That fact was quite evident the moment he stepped off the elevator and walked onto the sprawling top floor. A series of beautiful smiles flashed before his eyes as he made his way through the open-concept room full of cubicles and people. Not that he’d intentionally hired an all-woman staff—it was just that the best people for the job always seemed to be of the female persuasion. Every one of them was competent, efficient, and trustworthy. And nearly a third were single and in an age bracket that would deem them dateable, if not marriageable.

  But it was always the same story. Like the others his mother had tried to set him up with, these women flocked around him because of his wealth and the prestige of his position. Which was why Nicky intrigued him. She was different. Sure, she liked Lindenfield. Who wouldn’t? She’d shown adequate appreciation for the architectural details of his house, and she’d obviously been impressed by his art collection. But she didn’t seem covetous of any of it. Nor was she intimidated by it. Or by him. In fact, at times he had the impression she actually felt a subtle disdain for all his wealth. Could it be that she was too in love with her job and her carefree lifestyle to be awed by the weight and dross of his family’s legacy?

  Perhaps that was it, he thought, as he said his good-mornings and kept pressing on towards his office on the far side of the expansive floor. In any case, he had to admit Nicky was immensely refreshing. Not once over dinner did she mention stocks, assets, and foreign investment—all the things the society girls seemed to be interested in these days.

  She was unusual all right, and he liked that. Closing his office door, he thought of how good her naked body had felt against his. Yes, he liked her in every way imaginable.

  * * * * *

  Nicky found herself back in the guestroom, unloading her camera bag and suitcase just like she had yesterday afternoon. Well, Matt had gotten his way once again, which was apparently usual for him. She couldn’t help admiring that about him, just like she couldn’t help her body’s attraction to him.

  She picked up her camera and sighed. If she was going to be stuck at Lindenfield, she might as well get paid for it.

  Matt’s bedroom—that might be a good place to start looking for an absent lover, she thought. Matt did say he’d be gone until early evening, which gave her lots of time to snoop. If Frank saw her, she could cover herself by explaining that she needed shots of every room in the house, including the master bedroom.

  She stepped into the hall, her camera slung around her neck. Creeping along the upstairs hallway past room after room, some of the doors partway open, some closed, Nicky hesitated. Which door led to Matt’s bedroom? It might take her an hour just to locate it.

  She passed by a series of portraits gracing the
hallway walls. Judging from the old-fashioned clothes, she knew they had to be Matt’s ancestors. Ignoring their staring eyes, she poked her head into room after room, trying to catch the overall theme or purpose of each one. There was a reading room, a large bathroom, and then she came to a room that was very different, a small child’s bedroom that had apparently been Matt’s when he was young.

  That one intrigued her. Gingerly, she stepped inside where several endearing photographs of the young newspaper tycoon hung on the walls. Images of Matt as a curious-looking two year old, dimples in both cheeks, his dark hair thick and full of curls. He was absolutely adorable, which wasn’t all that surprising. In her opinion, he was as irresistible today as he was in these photographs, except that now he had other qualities she could appreciate even more.

  Nicky smiled as her gaze caressed his laughing, childish face. She recalled some of the more personal information about Matt from Smith’s red file. Matt had been the first and only son, which meant that all the responsibility of the Anderson family’s future rested on his shoulders. No wonder he had rebelled as a teenager and college student, he’d had a lot of pressure to deal with. At the same time, Nicky could see why his father had been worried when he came to realize his son was wasting his time chasing women.

  Trying to shake off the cozy atmosphere of that room, she stepped back into the hallway. She always did have a sentimental place in her heart for childhood, she realized now. Her own had been quite wonderful, though, like Matt, she had been an only child. Unlike Matt, she hadn’t even had a cousin to play with. Then again, as far as she could tell from the information in the file, Matt wasn’t exactly close to his cousin Larry. Non-kissing cousins. And now they were competing for control of the family business, along with the privilege of living here in all this splendor. Matt had it, but Larry wanted it. And now, if Matt didn’t produce his fiancée very soon, Larry was going to take over, fair and square.