Carolina Heat (7 page)

Mark took a long drink from his bottle, and then another. “Guess Jillian really did underestimate us. Today’s apparently our day to bond and share. And I’ll take your advice on one condition.”

“Which is?”

“We never speak of this again.”

Annabelle sprawled across the huge four poster bed. A magnolia scented breeze wafted from her balcony through the white lace curtains. It was a relaxing, heady scent, and she closed her eyes for a moment to fully enjoy it. The minutes ticked by until the discomfort of being fully clothed roused her. It was a huge effort to tug off her shorts and undo her shirt. She unfastened her ponytail and tousled her hair, the curls extra springy from the humidity. With her last ounce of energy, she nudged a pillow under her aching feet.

On the way back to her room, she’d constructed a mental list of goals for the evening: undress, nap, dine on Mrs. Haley’s sure-to-be-sublime roast chicken, and then call it a night. Simple pleasures, but she knew she deserved the night of rest. Her day had been comprised of three restored mansions, two more museums, a dungeon, four churches, and ended with a boat ride out to Fort Sumter.
Far too much for one day
, she concluded wearily. But the fire of determination to find Vanessa burned hot and strong, and pushed her forward every day.

“Excuse me, Miss Annabelle?” Ruth Haley peered around the half open door. Annabelle tugged the sheet up until she was decently covered, and then bade Mrs. Haley enter. The older woman clucked her tongue in reprimand.

“Child, you look all tuckered out! I know I told you to come back and nap in the heat of the day. After all, the whole state does it. If you took my advice, you wouldn’t feel so poorly now.” She fussed about Annabelle like a mother hen as she spoke, plumping the pillows and straightening the quilt.

“I appreciate your concern and advice, truly,” Annabelle said, with a soft touch to Ruth’s hand. “But sometimes a nap isn’t on my agenda.”

“You make sure you squeeze one in tomorrow. I can’t have my guests wandering about the city looking as exhausted as you do. It’s bad for business. And I’ve bragged to almost everyone about the famous writer I have staying here. The ladies at the garden club were mighty impressed, and the Daughters of Charleston want to know if you might mention us in your article. But I don’t think you could write a word, looking as purely wrung out as you do.”

It was nice to be mothered every once in a while. “I’ll take a quick nap before dinner. It should make me presentable enough to mingle with the other guests.”

Mrs. Haley shook her head. “Now, you would surely disappoint your gentleman caller. On the other hand, it might be wise…”

“A gentleman caller? Do you mean there’s a man downstairs waiting for me?”

“Why yes, dear. That’s what I came up here to tell you.”

“Well, why didn’t you?” This Southern habit of chatting for five minutes before getting to the point grated on Annabelle’s nerves. She jumped out of bed and grabbed her recently discarded shorts. Her mind raced with possibilities. Maybe Mr. Shaw had remembered something else from his last conversation with Tad.

“Land sakes alive, I just did!” Mrs. Haley defended herself. “Now dear,” she laid a restraining hand on Annabelle’s arm, “don’t you have a pretty dress to put on? Your young man looks so nice.”

“Why? Do you know who it is?” She shifted gears and grabbed a sundress. If whoever was downstairs was in a suit, it could be the police, or even the FBI. They ended up with missing persons’ cases fairly often. If anything had developed, Ralph Paxton would naturally tell them to contact her.

Mrs. Haley smiled enigmatically. “Certainly I know, but I surely don’t intend to spoil the surprise.”

Annabelle bent over and gave a quick fluff to her curls.
It must be the FBI, or Mrs. Haley wouldn’t be acting so strangely.
She slipped into sandals and grabbed her purse, complete with her ever-present notebook.

Mrs. Haley preceded her down the hallway, and paused at the top of the stairs. “Don’t dawdle now; your young man is waiting.” She swept her arm towards the foot of the stairs. Stunned, Annabelle stopped dead in her tracks. It was definitely
not
an FBI agent in the foyer.

CHAPTER FIVE

Propped casually against the door with long legs crossed at the ankles was Mark. But it was a vastly different Mark.
This
man was elegantly attired in a pale gray summer suit accented with a stylish mauve tie. Annabelle hastily descended the staircase, caught completely off guard. Mark met her at the bottom step.

“For you, Miss Annabelle.” His eyes held hers as he produced a nosegay from behind his back. She took it and buried her face in the fluffy white blossoms. Her exhaustion disappeared with one whiff of their heady scent.

“Carolina jasmine,” Mark said, in answer to her unspoken question. “I know people always associate magnolias with the South, but…”

“They smell wonderful.”

“Consider it background material for your article.” She gave him a quizzical look. “It’s the state flower. Seemed appropriate. I almost brought the state bird, but after careful consideration I decided flowers would make less of a mess.”

Heat flushed Annabelle’s cheeks. It was one of the most thoughtful gestures she’d ever received. A sharp pang of guilt speared through her at the continual need to lie to this man.

“Flowers
and
spiffy duds. Exactly what do you plan to accomplish by this show of suaveness?” She hoped her brusque question covered how she was melting on the inside like a gooey chocolate chip cookie.

“At the most, I hope to spend the evening with you. At the very least,” he said wryly, “I hope to be able to coax another smile out of hiding.”

That did it. She couldn’t mask any longer the effect he had on her, and rewarded him with a brilliant smile. “I like a man who comes right out and states his intentions. I also like the flowers very much.”

Mrs. Haley bustled forward with a crystal vase. “Let me take those. I’ll put them in your room, Miss Annabelle.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes never left Mark’s. He crooked his arm in an unspoken invitation. Still smiling, she linked her arm with his.

“Does this mean you’ll join me for dinner?” he asked.

“You
did
put on a suit for me. There isn’t a woman alive who could ignore the charm of that gesture.”

“Stop teasing the boy,” Mrs. Haley scolded from the doorway.

Annabelle picked up on the warmth of familiarity in her voice. “How well do you two know each other?”

Mrs. Haley beamed fondly at Mark. “He’s the second son I never asked for. He’s been coming around since he was big enough to steal my cookies off the counter.”

“Ashby Haley’s been my best friend forever,” Mark said, with an engaging grin. “He introduced me to the wonder of his mother’s cookies one day after kindergarten. I’ve been hooked ever since.”

“Well, I can tell you right now you won’t get sweets from me tonight. Miss Annabelle deserves something fancier than cookies and milk at the kitchen table.”

“I love how you talk about me as if I’m not even here,” Annabelle commented, tongue firmly in cheek.

“Don’t be silly. If you weren’t here, who would have dinner with me?” Mark opened the front door. “No more reminiscences, Mrs. Haley. Don’t want to miss our reservations. And don’t wait up!”

Annabelle dissolved in a fit of laughter on the porch. “I feel like I’m back in high school. I haven’t heard that since the night of my senior prom. Like an idiot, my date showed up in a leather jacket instead of a tux. My father was not amused.”

“Did he still let you go?”

“Reluctantly. I had to be home an hour earlier than my usual curfew, though.”

“Sounds like Dad was a real stickler. Oh, watch your step.” Mark steadied her elbow as her heel slipped between two cobblestones.

“Thanks,” Annabelle said. “I guess twenty-first-century shoes don’t work well with seventeenth-century roads.”

“Will you survive if we walk to dinner? Just a few blocks? I’ll hang on to you the whole way,” Mark reassured her.

“Oh, I’m game. I prefer walking. It gives me a chance to soak up the flavor of a city. I can imagine what it’s like to really live there when I roam the streets. And of course,” she patted his arm, “it never hurts to have a tour guide as my escort.” Annabelle’s steps were lighthearted as they made their way into the heart of the historic district.

In one of their last conversations Vanessa had lovingly but firmly scolded her.

“All you ever do is work. Even now you’re at the top of your field—you get your choice of any assignment, and still all you do is work. You need to learn to enjoy the freedom success brings.”

“But I enjoy my work!” Annabelle protested.

“No,” Vanessa contradicted, “you bury yourself in it to the exclusion of enjoying the rest that life has to offer. It’s not healthy. How many dates did you go on last month?”

“Uh-uh, not a fair question. I traveled for three of those weeks.”

“When was the last time you spent a Saturday afternoon hanging out with friends?”

Annabelle was smug with triumph. “Gotcha! You met me for coffee in Paris last weekend.”

“Annabelle, you were on your way to the airport, and I had an hour before catching a train to Milan. A chance meeting in the middle of Europe isn’t a quality social encounter.”

Too bad. It had been the highlight of her week. “I imagine there are people who would find sitting in a Parisian café with their best friend a nice way to spend an hour.”

“Don’t be snide. You’re dodging my point, and you know it. Okay, try something simpler. Spring is here—have you stopped in the middle of a sidewalk to sniff the apple blossoms?” Vanessa shook her head sadly. “I love you, which means I worry about you. I don’t want you to wake up at fifty, alone in bed with only your laptop to keep you warm, and wonder what happened to the best years of your life.”

Annabelle was moved by her friend’s words. “Believe it or not, recently I’ve started to worry about that exact thing. I promise I’ll try to relax my schedule a little. Maybe even get a cat to warm the other side of my bed.”

“I’m serious, Annabelle. Promise me you’ll make every effort to live a little.”

Annabelle shook her head to clear the memories. When she found her, Vanessa would be thrilled to hear about tonight’s date. Going to dinner with a near stranger because he brought flowers—well, it ranked pretty high on the spontaneity scale.

“I suppose it’s too late in the season for apple blossoms?” she asked Mark.

“You’d have to head north a few states for those.” He cocked his head. “Why? Do you have a hankering for apples?”

“Just looking for something to stop and sniff. Silly of me, I guess.”

“Not at all. The air here’s thick with the scent of flowers. It must be a drastic change of pace for someone from the concrete jungle of New York.”

“Something like that,” she agreed as he led her into a restaurant. In short order they were seated by a large window overlooking Market Street. After they ordered and the wine was poured, Mark lifted his glass.

“To chance meetings.”

Annabelle smiled as she touched her glass to his. “How lovely. I never know what to say in a toast. I end up completely tongue-tied.”

“You?” Mark made a comical face of mock surprise. “At a loss for words? Hard to believe.”

“I’m much better at putting words down on paper. It gives me a chance to filter out mistakes.”

“But it also removes spontaneity. What about the ability to truly be in the moment and have an honest reaction?”

Her response was dry as the aged Merlot they were drinking. “Trust me, my editors prefer it.”

Mark leaned back in his chair. “You mentioned your father earlier. What is he like?”

She took a very deliberate sip of wine. “He could be harsh,” she said slowly. “He traveled all the time, and when he was home he expected his family to run as smoothly as his corporation. Dealing with the normal foibles of childhood simply wasn’t on his schedule.”

“The way you talk about him - I take it your father passed away?”

She nodded. “About five years ago. His lifestyle was a heart attack waiting to happen—and it finally did.”

He laid a hand over hers. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. This may sound callous, but it all worked out for the best. My mother was desperately unhappy with him for years.”

“Did she stay because of you?”

Annabelle bit her lip. “Yes. Well, not just me. My brother Jonathan, as well. I begged her to leave him time and again. I was positive we could pick up and start a new life far away.”

She was quiet while their salads were served. It hit her that with very little urging, she was in the midst of pouring out her life story to this man. On the surface, it struck her as wildly inappropriate for a first date, let alone an evening which stood little chance of ever being repeated. But another part of her relished how easy it was to talk to Mark. He was a consummate listener, and made her feel every word she uttered was vitally important to him. It was the ultimate role reversal for her.