It occurred to him that he felt comfortable with this woman he’d never met before. As comfortable with Beth Wainwright Montgomery Cannon Williams Smith, et cetera as he was with Rose, or had been before she’d dumped him. Maybe it was a family trait, he reasoned. Although Rose was far less outgoing and flamboyant than her aunt. Truthfully, he was glad of that, because if she’d been like Beth, he would have had to stand in line instead of keeping her all for himself.
Matt sensed an ally in Beth and as such, felt that it was only smart to encourage her to continue. “No, please, go ahead.”
Beth patted his hand, her violet eyes sparkling like newly uncorked champagne poured into a fluted glass. “Not just handsome, but smart, too.” She laughed as she looked at Rose over Matt’s head. “This one’s a charmer, Rose.”
“Yes,” Rose said, looking pointedly at Matt. “But charm eventually wears thin.”
The remark hit him straight in his heart, like a well-aimed arrow. What was he doing here, humbling himself in front of a woman who had walked out on him, who’d all but told him that she’d had her fun, but the excitement was gone and now it was time to return to their previous lives?
Where the hell was his pride?
“Since I’m here,” he heard himself saying, “I might as well take a long overdue vacation. But this place is so damn confusing,” he confided to Beth, ignoring Rose completely, “I’m going to need someone to be my guide.” He waited for the offer he thought was inevitable. When it didn’t come from Beth, he urged, “How about you? Are you up for it?”
To his surprise, Beth shook her head. “Oh, my dear, I would be more than up for it, but I’m right in the middle of teaching an acting class.” Then she beamed as if suddenly struck by a thought that he suspected had been there all along. “But Rose is free.”
He spared Rose a glance. “I don’t expect she knows very much of the city.”
“She knows a great deal more than you give her credit for, Matt.”
He shifted in his seat, turning to look at Rose who was on his other side. Was it his imagination, or did she suddenly look pale? “All right, how about it? Will you show me around?”
Why were they playing these games? Why couldn’t he just go home? “You don’t really want to see the city,” Rose replied.
Matt could feel his temper heating again. There was no doubt about it, Rose could set him off like nobody he knew.
“I said I did, didn’t I? Why do you always have to contradict what I say?”
She was in no mood to be diplomatic. “Maybe it’s because you never say what you mean.”
Beth clapped her hands together three times before she managed to get their attention.
“Children, children, stop fighting this instant and make nice or I’ll send you both to your rooms without any supper.” A complete pushover, even in jest, she rethought that. “Well, that’s too harsh, but without dessert at any rate.” She winked.
Rose folded her hands in front of her and let out a deep breath. She supposed she had sounded like a child, arguing just now. And since it looked as if Matt wasn’t about to leave unless she agreed to some kind of a tour of the city, she decided that this was the lesser of all evils.
“All right, I’ll show you around the city if that’s what you really want.”
“I always love a warm invitation,” he said sarcastically.
Beth intervened. “Make up and say yes, dear, before I show you your room.”
Almost in shock, Rose stared at Beth and then Matt, praying that Beth was using some like of poetic license. “He’s staying here?”
“Well, there was a suitcase in the hall next to his foot and I assumed it was his,” Beth told her.
It could stay in the hallway for all Rose cared—along with him. “Just because he has a suitcase doesn’t mean he has to put it here. This isn’t a hotel.” The moment she said it, she regretted it, knowing what was coming.
Beth didn’t disappoint her. “No, of course not, but I took you in, didn’t I?”
Rose tried to rally and dig herself out of the hole she’d fallen into. “I’m family.”
Beth merely nodded sagely. Her near-death experience on the operating table several years ago had made her reestablish communication between herself and a higher power.
“We’re all one big family in God’s eyes, dear.” She turned to Matt. “And Matt obviously needs a room, don’t you, dear?”
He rose to his feet. “I was going to a hotel.”
Leaning on the arm of the sofa, Beth pushed herself upright. “I’ll save you the trouble. Third door on the left. Guest bedroom. I love having guests,” she confided.
“Ms. Wainwright—”
“Call me Beth, please. And I won’t hear another word about it. Keep arguing and you’ll hurt my feelings. You wouldn’t want to do that, now, would you?”
Matt shook his head in compliance, but Rose opened her mouth to protest. “But—”
“Good.” Rose clapped her hands together. “Then it’s settled. You’re staying. It’s a big apartment. We won’t get in each other’s way.”
Unless, of course, I orchestrate something, Beth added silently.
Four
Rose was keenly aware that Matt was in the next room, settling in.
There was another guest bedroom on the other side of her aunt’s room. Why hadn’t Beth given him that one? Why the one next to hers? What was she trying to do to her? Rose thought moodily. It was hard enough dealing with emotions and hormones that were completely out of kilter because of her condition without having to put up with barbarians not only at the gate, but storming through those same gates, as well.
Matt had told Beth that he was planning to stay in New York about a week or two. He’d been looking at Rose when he’d said it, as if the length of time depended strictly on her.
If that was the case, he should be on a plane for home right now, Rose thought, frustrated.
Making up her mind to convince Beth to withdraw her invitation to Matt, Rose left her bedroom and went looking for her aunt.
Instead she ran into a mini army of people carrying covered dishes toward the terrace.
Following their path with her eyes, Rose found Beth. She was holding court on the terrace. Right in the middle of things, as always, stood Beth, pointing and issuing soft-spoken orders like a general mantled in a flowing caftan.
Rose stepped out of the way of a young, trim-waisted man in black livery carrying a small box. Feeling like someone in the middle of Atlantis moments before the fatal earthquake, she made a beeline for her aunt.
“Aunt Beth, what is all this?”
“Right there will be fine, dear,” she said to the young woman with the salad bowl. Beth spared Rose a quick glance over her shoulder. “Why, it’s dinner, darling. What does it look like?”
There were crystal goblets, a very fancy bottle of what appeared to be ginger ale, another of champagne. Covered entrée dishes sat atop a table graced with a cream-colored lace cloth and overlooking the park that dusk was slowly covering.
“Throwing a couple of steaks in the frying pan and tossing in a salad is