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Lucy! That vile little matchmaking monster! She knew exactly where Nealy kept the key, and she’d given it to him.
He hauled her into the musty interior, dragged her towar
d the back, opened the bathroom door, and pushed her inside.
She opened her mouth to blast him. “I’m going to —”
“Later.” He shut the door in her face.
She lunged for the knob, but he wedged something against the door, and she couldn’t open it. Moments later, she heard the engine grind away, then turn over.
She almost laughed. He wasn’t nearly as smart as he thought he was. Did he think he could simply drive through those electronic gates? Apparently he didn’t know that only a guard could open them without one of the special remotes—
She sagged against the shower door. Of course he had one of the remotes. The teenage traitor was in his corner, and Lucy wanted a family more than anything. It would have been child’s play for her to swipe the remote from the Town Car and give it to him.
Mat was going to do it, she realized. He was going to kidnap the former First Lady of the United States, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
She dutifully banged on the siding as the motor home rolled forward, even though she knew it was hopeless. In addition to the video surveillance at the gates, there was a microphone, but it would never pick up her thumps over the rough noise of Mabel’s engine. Still, she thumped away, just so Mat would know she wasn’t going peacefully.
The motor home came to a brief stop, and she could imagine Mat giving the surveillance camera an innocent wave, knew exactly what Lucy would have told them. Mom is letting Mat borrow the Winnebago for a couple of days.
She thumped louder, then gave it up as they pulled away from the gates. She slumped down on the toilet seat. Her feet were cold, the cuffs of her pajamas damp. Why couldn’t she have fallen in love with an ordinary man? Some nice Ivy Leaguer who courted women with moonlight dinners instead of a moonlight kidnapping. Some nice Ivy Leaguer who’d love her for herself and not just for everything attached to her. She concentrated on her anger so she’d be ready for him when he opened the door.
Middleburg was a rural area, dotted with celebrity horse farms and large estates. Mat wouldn’t have any trouble finding a deserted spot for their confrontation, and she wasn’t surprised when he turned off a paved road onto gravel. Gradually the road grew rougher. She grabbed the edge of the sink as Mabel lurched along before finally shuddering to a stop.
She set her lips in a grim line, straightened her shoulders, and waited for the door to open. It didn’t take long.
She vaulted to her feet. “If you think—”
He scooped her up by the shoulders, planted a hard kiss on her mouth, then pulled her out of the bathroom. “Before you say any more, I’m sorry for a lot of things, but I’m not sorry for this. How am I supposed to talk to you when you can snap your fingers and have your palace guard throw me out?”
“You could have—”
He thrust her down on the couch, then knelt in front of her. “I’d like a more romantic setting, but we started out in Mabel, so I guess this is where we’ll settle it.” He picked up her cold feet and cradled them in his hands. “I’ve got things to say to you, and I want you to listen. Okay?”
She realized he looked more upset than triumphant. The warmth from his hands began to sink in. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”
“No, you don’t.” His thumbs massaged her instep. “I love you, Nealy Case. I love you from the very bottom of my soul.” He drew a deep breath. “Not just from my heart, you understand. I love you from my soul.”
Her toes curled into his palm.
“I’ve been getting an awful feeling that you don’t love me back, but that doesn’t change what I feel about you or make it any less real. Even if you throw me out of your life forever, I want you to know that you’ll always be the best part of me.”
His voice turned into a whisper so full of feeling she felt as if she could touch it. “You’re the air I breathe, the food I eat, the water I drink. You’re my shelter and my refuge; you’re my energy and my inspiration; my ambition, my enthusiasm. You’re my resting place.”
She felt boneless as he bathed her in poetry. He smiled. “Just looking at you shines sunlight on every moment I live. Before I knew you, I wasn’t even alive. I thought I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t have any idea. You barged into my life and changed it forever. I love you, I admire you, I lust after you, I adore you . . .”
His words enfolded her—sonnets of love, a rhapsody of devotion. This brusque man who’d tried so hard to separate himself from the feminine was every woman’s dream.
“You make me see the world in new ways. You’re the first thing my heart greets when I wake up in the morning. You’re the last thing I see in my mind before I fall asleep.”
He let go of her feet and took one of her hands in both of his. “Sometimes I daydream about this, just holding your hand. That’s all. Just holding it. And I get a picture of the two of us going through life like that. Hand in hand. I even sometimes think about us having this colossal argument—hand in hand. Or just sitting on a couch together. Or—” Now a trace of aggression emerged as he reasserted himself.
“I know this is corny, but I don’t care—those rocking chairs people talk about.” He narrowed his eyes, just to let her know he wasn’t a complete wimp. “I see that. I see this big front porch and these two rockers side by side, and you and me all old and wrinkled.” His voice softened again. “The kids gone, grown up, only us, and I want to kiss every one of those wrinkles on your face and just sit there and rock with you.”
Her head swirled. Her heart sang. He circled her palm with his thumb.
“I can’t even talk about how much I love making love with you. Do you know that you make the most amazing sounds? And you hold me like I’m all you have, and that makes me feel like I’m some kind of god.”
