What if he was wrong about her? Well, he told himself firmly, for one thing, he didn’t want to be wrong about her. It would make this so much easier if she was just what he suspected she was. In it for the money. But then, even if the five million dollars was her sole motivation, she was now faced with living the lie she’d built.
Couldn’t be comfortable for her, either.
So did he give her the benefit of the doubt? Or did he continue to make both of them miserable for a full month? Neither, he decided. He’d give her enough rope, then stand back to see if she actually hanged herself with it. He could be patient. Hell, his training, his job, his life usually demanded patience. So he’d back off on the verbal attacks and see how she reacted.
“You’re right,” he said at last and had the pleasure of seeing surprise flicker across her face. “I’m sorry.”
She studied him for a long second or two, obviously trying to decide if he meant it or not. But finally, she nodded. “It’s okay. It’s a weird situation. For both of us.”
“Just what I was thinking.” Interesting. Be a little more accommodating, and she was far less prickly.
“So. Truce?” she asked.
“Maybe,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ll let you know when we’re finished shopping.”
“Hunter…”
He shook his head. He wasn’t going to let go of this one. “My wife doesn’t dress like that,” he said, waving one arm to indicate the hideous suit she seemed so attached to. “I’m not going to have everyone in town wondering why in the hell I won’t buy you new clothes. You want to play the part of Mrs. Cabot? You’ll do it looking a hell of a lot better than this.”
She lifted her chin and glared at him, but whatever she was going to say remained unuttered.
“Good choice,” he said with a brief nod. “You’re not going to win this one.”
Margie felt Hunter’s hand on the small of her back as clearly as if it were a live electrical wire. Spears of heat as wild and unpredictable as lightning bolts kept shooting through her system, and it was all she could do to walk and talk despite the distractions.
Main Street in Springville was waking up after a winter that had been cold and gray and bleak. Now in springtime, the sun shone out of a brilliantly blue sky, a cool wind danced down the street and bright bursts of flowers filled the planters at the feet of the street lamps. Colorful awnings stretched out over the sidewalk in front of the stores, and clusters of neighbors gathered together to chat.
She loved this town. Had from the moment she’d first arrived two years before. It was like a postcard of small-town American life. A flag waved in the center of town square, moms with strollers sat on benches, laughing at toddlers wobbling around on the grass, and the scent of fresh bread baking drifted through the bakery’s open door.
After growing up in Los Angeles, just one more face in an anonymous crowd, coming to Springville was like finding an old friend. She belonged here. She fit in. Or at least, she told herself with a sidelong glance at the man beside her, she used to.
Now, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to stay once this month with Hunter was up. She’d have to leave this town, these people, even Simon, the grandfather she’d come to love. Because staying after the divorce would be impossible. She wouldn’t be able to stand the pitying looks from her friends. She wouldn’t be able to answer the questions everyone would have.
And mostly, she wouldn’t be able to stay in the place where all of her lovely fantasies had died.
“Still say we should have gone to the city,” Hunter murmured, then waved at someone across the street.
Margie shook her head. She’d agreed, finally, to shopping, but had insisted that they do their buying in town. “You’re a Cabot,” she said for the third time. “You should support the local businesses.”
“You make me sound like a king or something. What does being a Cabot have to do with where I shop?” His voice was low, but she had no trouble hearing him. In fact, Margie had the distinct feeling that she would always be able to concentrate easily on the deep rumble of his voice.
In just twenty-four hours, she’d already become attuned to him. Oh, God. What a mess.
She smiled and nodded at an older woman they passed on the sidewalk, then muttered, “Your family built this town. The headquarters of your business is here. You employ half the people who live here.”
“Not me,” he insisted, “Simon.”
“The Cabots,” she reminded him.
“Oh, for-”
“Hunter!”
“Now what?” he muttered, stopping and draping one arm around Margie’s shoulder.
They’d already been stopped countless times by people excited to see Hunter back home. The heavy weight of his arm on her felt both comforting and like a set of shackles, binding her to his side. And how was that possible? How could she feel desire for the very man who was making her life a misery?
A young couple, James and Annie Drake, holding hands as they hurried up the sidewalk, grinned at Hunter and Margie as they approached. The man had brown hair and thick glasses, and his grin was reflected in his eyes. “Hi Margie. Hunter, it’s good to see you back.”
“Good to be back, James,” he said, and the tone of his voice was almost convincing.
Except that Margie knew he didn’t really want to be here. So who, she wondered, was acting now?
“Annie, good to see you, too. How’re the kids?”
“Oh, they’re fine,” the tall blond woman said, smiling at Margie. “Just ask your wife. She helped me ride herd on them during the last council meeting.”
“It was no trouble,” Margie put in, remembering the three-year-old twins, who were like tiny tornadoes.
“Is that right?” Hunter asked.
“Don’t know what this town did without her,” Annie said. “She’s helped everyone so much. And she has so many amazing ideas!”
Margie gave her friend a wan smile and wished Annie would be quiet. She could feel the tension in Hunter’s arm, and it was getting tighter.
“Oh, now that I believe,” Hunter said with a squeeze of her shoulders. “She’s just full of surprises.”
“Oh, yeah,” James added, “Margie’s a wonder.”
“So I keep hearing.”
Hunter’s arm around her shoulders tightened further, and Margie deliberately leaned into him, making his gesture seem more romantic than he meant it to be. The fact that the moment she was pressed to his side, heat spiraled through her system like an outof-control wildfire was just something she’d have to keep to herself.