Читать книгу The Third Kiss - Leanna Wilson - Страница 11

Enough celebration for one day.

Enough Brooke Watson…or Dr. Brooke Watson…forever.

Matt strode down the hospital corridor, intent on forgetting his irritation over the millionth customer debacle. More important things concerned him.

The antiseptic smells made him scowl as he made his way past the nurses’ station. But Brooke’s clean, fresh scent of soap and sunshine lingered with him, permeated his thoughts and kept him thinking of her long, sexy, jeans-clad legs.

What was the matter with him?

Tempering his scowl, he opened the door to room 517 and gave a warm smile to the fragile woman in the hospital bed. “Hello, darlin’.”

Her gaze shifted from the television set to Matt. He saw the spark return to her vibrant blue eyes, and her weathered face creased with a faint smile. “How did it go?” She held out her hand, beckoning him closer. “I want to hear all about it.”

“In time,” he said, settling himself on the edge of the bed, mindful of the IV tubes. He took her frail hand in his and kissed it. “How are you today, Grandmother? Feeling any better?”

“Feel just like a pin cushion.”

“More needles, eh?”

“Useless waste of time. There’s not a damn thing they can do for old age. Comes a time when a body’s ready to give out.”

Every one of his muscles tensed, and his heart contracted with fear and worry. “Don’t talk that way, Grandmother. You’re as young as—”

“An old goat. Don’t fool yourself, Matt, darling. My time’s coming. I’m at peace with it.” She patted his hand as if to soothe him, when it should have been the other way around. “I’m just sad I won’t live long enough to see you married and happy.”

She said it as if marriage was synonymous with a cheerful state of mind. Which didn’t compute with him.

“Well, I’m happy,” he said, trying to keep the conversation light. “Happily single. One out of two isn’t bad.”

The wrinkled skin between her faded brows pinched tight.

“Don’t you worry. Soon as you’re feeling better you’ll have plenty of time to set me up with more of your friends’ nieces and granddaughters.” She’d been playing matchmaker for years now, and Matt had taken it in stride but at the same time had easily sidestepped matrimony. “I might even surprise everyone and get married one of these days.”

“You tease.”

His grandmother was right. He wasn’t looking for a wife. He didn’t have anything against marriage. He simply wanted to be sure a woman wanted him. Not his fortune. Which seemed impossible, especially with the women he’d dated, who were as money hungry as tigers on the prowl.

Eliza Louise Cutter gave his hand a squeeze. “You’re not happy, Matt. Believe me, if you were to find true love, the way your grandfather and I loved each other, then you’d understand why it’s so important. It will make and keep you young at heart. That’s one reason I’m not afraid to leave this life. At least I’ll be with your grandfather again. My dear, sweet Linc.”

“Don’t talk that way…”

She tsked him. “Go ahead and tell me how the big celebration went.”

He gave a frustrated sigh and wished he could convince her that she had years and years left. It was as if she’d given up! As if she wanted to die. “It was more like an auction. She—”

“She?”

“The millionth customer. An exasperating woman if I ever met one. She was giving away all the prizes.”

“Giving them away?”

He nodded gravely. “She gave the lifetime supply of jeans to a friend. And she asked for the roadster to be traded for a van so she could give it to an orphanage. Can you believe that?”

“Sounds like a levelheaded woman. And a generous one.” His grandmother gave an approving nod. She carefully folded back a portion of the white hospital sheet. “Exasperating, huh? I do believe that’s what Linc said about me when we first met. I told you about that, didn’t I?”

“Once or twice.” He grinned.

She waved her hand, dismissing her fond memories. “You just don’t like changes. Never have. But maybe it worked out for the best. Maybe this exasperating woman’s generosity will stir up more publicity for the store. And more important, maybe it did a little good for the community.”

If anyone knew the meaning of generosity, he did. He’d learned it from his grandparents. Where his parents had been selfish, using their millions for indulgences and self-gratifying motives, Eliza and Linc Cutter had given not only gobs of money but gold bullions of time. Matt had been a recipient in more ways than one.

So why had Brooke Watson’s altruism irritated him? He simply didn’t like it when his plans veered off course.

He decided to play the devil’s advocate. “It could look as if this woman didn’t like our products. As if our merchandise wasn’t good enough for her.”

His argument lacked conviction. He hated to admit he’d been impressed with her. Too impressed. Too aroused. Especially when they’d stood toe-to-toe. He didn’t want to think how close he’d come to grabbing her and kissing her. What a headline that would have been!

“What did she do with the million pennies?” Eliza asked.

“Hmm?”

“That exasperating woman,” she quoted him, her mouth lifting in a smile. “What did she do with the million pennies?”

He shook loose his raging hormones. “She gave them to a local school.”

He’d anticipated her wanting the money for herself, or maybe even asking for more. But she hadn’t. She’d simply promised the money to a bunch of needy kids.

His previous annoyance had grudgingly changed to approval. Why had he wanted to dislike Brooke Watson so much? He shrugged off that question, refusing to touch it as if it were the electric fence surrounding Fort Knox.

“She seems thoughtful and caring,” his grandmother mused. “Sounds like a nice woman. Not exasperating at all.”

How about irritating, infuriating, maddening? He pictured Brooke. None of those words came to mind. Only beautiful, sexy, tempting. Trouble, he decided.

“What did she look like?”

“Hmm?” Her question jarred him from his thoughts.

A twinkle sparkled in his grandmother’s eye. He wished he could keep that sparkle there and make her want to continue living. “What did she look like?”

“I can’t really remember, Grandmother.” Actually he couldn’t forget.

Eliza’s papery brow wrinkled into a frown.

Immediately he felt a jolt of concern to his heart. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling bad? Do you need a nurse?”

“No, no, darling. I’m fine. As fine as I can be, confined to this bed. I’m just wishing you could find a woman…someone kind and generous…like that woman who won. But someone who would light your fire.” She waggled her silvery-gray eyebrows.

“Grandmother!”

She chuckled softly, then leaned her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes. Faint blue veins made a delicate pattern across her eyelids. “Someday you’ll find her. I just wish I could live long enough to meet the woman who’s going to knock your socks off.”

“Don’t worry yourself sick.” He placed a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Call if you need anything before then.”

She nodded but didn’t open her eyes. Reluctant to leave, he hovered near the doorway until her breathing fell into the rhythm of sleep. A constriction cut off his own oxygen supply. She was all he had. All he’d ever had. She’d raised him, loved him when his parents had been too busy trekking around the world, spending money as if it was grown on trees and forgetting they had a family business to run and a son to raise. So his grandmother had stepped in to care for him. Now he’d do anything…anything…for her.

Anything, huh?

Would he be willing to make her last wish come true? With that simple question, an outrageous plan locked into place. Why not? Why couldn’t he do this one thing for her, when she’d sacrificed so much for him? She’d taken time away from her beloved Linc to raise him, going to all his baseball games, tennis matches and golf tournaments. Why couldn’t he make this one sacrifice for her? After all, it wouldn’t have to be forever. Only until…

He winced at that thought. He couldn’t think of her dying. But he could concentrate on making his grandmother the happiest woman alive. If that was her last wish, then, by God, he’d see that she had it. He’d find himself a bride. A temporary bride.

But who?

His mind clicked into gear, keeping pace with each clunk of his boot heels against the linoleum floor as he strode back down the hallway toward the elevator. It didn’t take long for him to land on a possibility. His only possibility.

The only thing that would make my mother happy is if I showed up with a husband. Brooke Watson’s words came back to him full force.

Of course. She’s the one!

She had incentive. Just as he did.

But she hadn’t lunged for his wallet. So maybe she’d be willing to give him his ring back after a short, fake engagement, the way she’d given away all his prizes.

He congratulated himself on a fine plan. This would be a piece of cake. A piece of wedding cake!

“Why don’t we read this book together, Jeffrey?” Brooke kept her voice upbeat even when she felt defeated once more by this reticent five-year-old.

He kept his head bent, never looking up, never responding. A shock of brown hair fell across his forehead, and she smoothed it back. At least he no longer flinched.

“This is one of my favorites. Have you ever read it?” She continued talking, though she felt as if she was talking to a brick wall.

But she didn’t stop. She plowed ahead, opening the book, showing him the pages. If he would only look up enough to see the bright, colorful carnival pictures of cotton candy, popcorn and clowns. She’d just reached the second page when a shadow crossed the book. With a sigh she stopped. Was it already time for her to leave?

Expecting to see the prim and stoic Mrs. Morris who ran the orphanage, she glanced up and felt the breath knock out of her lungs. “What do you want?”

Matt Cutter gave her that charming grin she was sure had made many women swoon. But not her. He didn’t faze her in the least. Not even those navy-blue eyes that seemed deeper than the ocean and as full of as many mysteries. She refused to notice the way his starched white shirt emphasized his tan or the way his faded jeans fit a tad too snugly, causing a heat flash inside her.

“I came to see you.” His deep, sexy voice made the back of her neck tingle.

She closed the book. What did he want now? She’d taken enough grief from friends and co-workers the past couple of days to keep her permanently out of the limelight. It was all Matt’s fault. Men like him were trouble. Pure and simple. “How’d you find me?”

“It’s not a secret that you come here every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, is it?”

“No, but—”

“Good, then your secretary isn’t in trouble.” He swiveled a kid-size chair toward him on its legs and settled into it as if it were as comfortable as a leather recliner. He stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles, the toes of his custom black boots pointing toward the ceiling.

Irritation sparked inside her. How would he like someone barging into one of his high-powered business meetings? “I’m in the middle of a session.”

“Hey, cowboy,” Matt addressed Jeffrey. “How are you?”

Her attention snapped toward the little boy who stared at Matt like he was Paul Bunyan reincarnated.

But he wasn’t. He was a wealthy business owner. He’d franchised his family’s store, taken it nationwide, diversified Cutter’s assets and branched out beyond Stetsons and Ropers to retail clothes, fast food and oil. He bought and sold companies like most people borrowed books from the library. His rate of return with women was, according to the tabloids, even faster.

And here he was at a little, out-of-the-way orphanage, concentrating on a five-year-old as if he was about to make a business deal. “Do you mind my interrupting you and Dr. Watson for a minute?”

Brooke caught a small, almost indiscernible, shake of the little boy’s head. But it was there! She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t witnessed it. Her heartbeat kicked up its pace.

Unbelievable! She’d been working with Jeffrey for over six months and there had been only minuscule improvements. Most of her colleagues would have given up by now. Then Matt Cutter waltzes in the room and the kid merely acts shy, instead of traumatized. What was it about the famous cowboy? Who was he…Prince Charming in a Stetson?

That was dangerous thinking, even if she didn’t want a Prince Charming. And she didn’t.

Women acted as if he was Tom Cruise or something, swarming around him, fawning over him, buying up any newspapers, magazines or tabloids that printed his picture. Well, she didn’t get it. Maybe that’s why she was more irritated than delighted at Jeffrey’s tiny response.

“What are y’all reading?” Matt asked, disturbing her thoughts even more as he turned the book over on her lap and brushed his hand against her thigh. A jolt of electricity coursed through her. “Hmm. Looks interesting. But carnivals and circuses are for little kids. Not big boys like you.”

Annoyance nettled inside her, especially when she saw Jeffrey’s eyes widen.

“I’ve got a book at home, cowboy, that I bet you’d like. It’s about cowboys and horses. Would you like me to bring it sometime for you to read?”

Again, the little boy gave a microscopic indication that he would.

Amazed, Brooke wondered what magic Matt had woven in the few moments he’d been here. She stared at him, bewildered and confounded, but also impressed and baffled. This showed progress. And gave her hope for the little boy. But how had Matt accomplished so much in so little time?

Catching sight of Mrs. Morris walking the periphery of the rec room, wearing her brightly colored quilted vest, Brooke leaned toward the little boy. “Jeffrey, it’s time for me to go, but I’ll be back in a couple of days. Okay?”

No response. Frustration returned full force.

Trying to remain positive, she touched his shoulder lightly. “I’ll bring you a cowboy book then, if you want.”

She stood, indicating it was time for Matt to follow her. Picking up her briefcase and taking her childhood book away from Matt, she told Jeffrey goodbye and turned on her heel. Mindful that the CEO was following at his own leisurely pace, she wondered if he was surveying the orphanage, planning to buy it and turn it into condos or a golf course. Men like Matt Cutter always had their own agendas.

When she glanced over her shoulder to give a final wave to Jeffrey, she almost tripped over her own two feet. Matt Cutter was following her, all right—and staring right at her behind! Instead of outrage she felt a shiver of satisfaction ripple down her spine. Matt Cutter dated only the most beautiful women—actresses and models, the créme de la créme.

Although she felt a boost to her womanly pride to know he was looking at her with obvious desire, that’s where it ended. Because she did not want Matt or his interest. No way. No how.

“Goodbye, Dr. Watson,” Mrs. Morris said as Brooke signed out for the day. “We’ll see you Wednesday.”

“Yes, yes, fine.” Straightening her thoughts as she would a stack of wrinkled, ruffled papers, she sharpened her focus. “If there are any changes with Jeffrey…if you need me for anything…just call.”

“Of course.” The woman shifted her gaze and patted her graying pageboy cut. “And, goodbye, Mr. Cutter. Come back anytime to visit. Anytime.”

He stopped and gave the older woman’s hand more of a caress than a shake. Brooke tried not to roll her eyes. Then he gave a nod to the receptionist and flashed one of his famous smiles to the other gawking workers lurking around doorways as if they had nothing better to do than stare at the famous CEO.

“It was a pleasure, ladies,” he said with a wave.

A pleasure? Good grief! Was he running for public office? She shoved her way out the door and into the glaring sunshine.

After reaching the curb, they walked through the parking lot. When she was sure they were out of hearing range of the orphanage, she turned on Matt Cutter with professional outrage. “What do you think you’re doing? I was in the middle of a session and you barged in—”

“Whoa.” Matt held up one hand in self-defense. “Mrs. Morris said your time was up, anyway. She was on her way over to take Jeffrey back to class. I simply interrupted for her.”

He gave her his know-it-all grin that had zero effect on her. Except to aggravate her even more.

“A nice lady, Mrs. Morris,” he said, apparently oblivious to Brooke’s anger, or perhaps he was ignoring it. “She was gracious enough to show me where you were. Said it wouldn’t hurt since Jeffrey doesn’t respond to anyone.” A frown pinched his forehead. “What’s wrong with him, anyway?”

“It’s unethical for me to discuss a patient. Besides, it’s none of your business.” She crossed her arms over her chest. The Texas sun beat down on her, causing a trickle of perspiration to slide down her spine. Or was Matt to blame for her sudden flush? “Now if you’re here about those damn boots—”

“Easy, Cinderella. I didn’t come bearing gifts, glass slippers or boots. But if that’s what would make you smile, then I’ll try to find something.” He patted his shirt and pants pockets. “Or better yet, next time I’ll bring a dozen roses with me.”

She didn’t want roses or anything else from this man. “Just get to your point. There is a point to your being here, isn’t there?”

“Always.”

She waited.

He watched her. Not really watched, but eyed her, sized her up, letting his gaze roam over her freely, intimately. She felt a shiver ripple through her that wasn’t revulsion. It was awareness…arousal…alarming!

Why wasn’t she insulted? Why didn’t she want to slap his face? What made her suddenly think about kissing his arrogant mouth? She had to get away from this man. The faster the better.

“Well…” She tapped her toe.

His blue eyes glimmered with a low-burning heat that made her insides shift eagerly, no, restlessly. Uncomfortably, she corrected.

“Mind if we go somewhere where we can speak privately?” he asked.

“Yes, I do mind. I mind your intrusion in my schedule today. I mind standing in the heat, waiting for you to tell me what you want. I mind—”

“I offered to take you somewhere more comfortable—”

“Like your home?” she asked, knowing that would be like the spider inviting the fly into his web.

He edged toward her, his mouth pulling to one side in a tempting smile that unraveled her composure. “Is that what you would like?”

She jerked her chin. “I don’t have time to stand around discussing the weather or anything else. Now either say what it is you came to say or you’ll have to excuse me.” To emphasize her point she checked her watch. “I have another appointment.”

“Believe me, I didn’t come here to discuss the weather.” His heated gaze told her exactly what he was thinking about. It wasn’t storm fronts or the local heat wave. But it did make her hot and bothered.

“What then, Mr. Cutter?”

“Matt.”

Her mouth pinched at the corners. She didn’t need to think of him as Matt or in any other personal way. “Mr. Cutter, you’re going to make me late.”

“Of course.” He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, making her gaze drop to the faded line of his zipper. She had lost her mind! Then he rocked back on his heels. “I apologize for any inconvenience in your schedule. If you want I could call and—”

“I don’t want you to call. Now, please…”

He gave a sharp nod, making the brim of his Stetson dip, then rise. “I’ll cut to the chase. How would you like to get married?”

She felt as though a bucket of ice-cold water had been tossed at her. “What?”

“Well, not really married. Engaged. Temporarily.”

Her jaw dropped, and she snapped her mouth closed. “Are you nuts?”

“Probably.”

Stunned, she gave a shake of her head to clear the cobwebs from her brain. Maybe she’d heard him wrong. But she didn’t think so. “I don’t have time for this nonsense.” She started walking to her car. “Goodbye, Mr. Cutter.”

“Wait!” He fell into step with her. “Hear me out.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s for a good cause.”

She laughed, unable to believe the strange turn of events or even her own hearing. Had Matt Cutter, the Matt Cutter, just proposed to her? In an offhanded, casual way? “I’ll bet. Your cause, right, Mr. Cutter? Or were you planning on donating a million to the orphanage here?”

“If that’s what will make you agree, then I’ll arrange it.”

She stumbled to a stop. “You’re serious?”

“As a stock market crash.” He flicked the brim of his hat with his forefinger.

She felt a magnetic pull toward him, as if he were slowly reeling her in, closer, closer, closer…Until he could take a bite…or nip…or nuzzle. Her skin tightened with awareness and a raw need that she had rarely, if ever, felt. What would Peggy or her mother say if they’d heard Matt’s proposal? Grab him and never let go!

What was happening here? It felt like a fairy tale or a dream or some wild fantasy. But it wasn’t hers. Maybe her mother’s. Or Peggy’s.

But she couldn’t seem to back away from Matt. She couldn’t give the logical answer that had lodged in her throat. She could only stare up at him, feeling awestruck, dumbfounded, baffled.

She noted the serious look in his eyes, the stern set of his jaw, his generous lower lip that made her want to rise up on tiptoe and kiss him. The heat must have addled her brain.

“You’re going to be late for your appointment, Doc.”

She blinked and shook herself. “Uh, yeah…yes.” She realized then that she’d reached her no-nonsense gray Ford. She fumbled with the keys, then remembered she’d left the windows down to alleviate the stifling heat. Opening the door, she slid into the sticky, hot seat. “But—”

He closed the door and rested his hands along the base of the open window. Leaning down, he gave her a grin that made her stomach turn completely over. “Think about it. I’ll be in touch.”