Runaway Groom (4 page)

“April Leigh.” His mouth curved into a smile.

Her stomach flipped. Somehow she’d forgotten that smile.

“God, it’s been years.” He stepped back, and held the door open wide. “Come on in.”

“Were you going out?”

“I was just going for a jog. It can wait.” He closed the door.

Large London houses like these were often divided into flats, but this one had only one doorbell, and there was no evidence Matthew’s house was subdivided. A Persian rug lay atop the polished wooden floorboards. The walls were painted warm terracotta and cluttered with what looked like nineteenth-century prints.

“Come on into the kitchen.”

She followed him down the long hallway into the room at the end. His back view was just as attractive as the front. She snapped her gaze from his butt to the back of his head. This wasn’t a guy she could lust over. This was Matthew. Runaway Groom. More hemlock than catnip.
Focus
.

He flicked on the kettle, and waved her to a chair around the worn wooden kitchen table. The way he looked at her, as if he’d never seen her before, did something funny to her stomach.

“You’ve really changed.” His head tilted to the side. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“But you did.”

He smiled. “It’s your eyes. Eyes never change, do they?”

He remembered her eyes? April blinked.

“What’s your poison. Tea? Coffee?”

 “Coffee. Black, please.”

He spooned granules into a cup and brought two cups to the table. He turned a chair around and sat, resting his elbows on its back. His sexual lure was so strong her mouth dried.

 “So, what brings you to London, April?”

“I live here.” Sitting here with him was so strange. Once they’d been as easy around each other as family. Now, the air seemed to buzz with things unsaid. The last time she’d seen him she’d been in school. Once been almost family; now they knew nothing about each other.

She took a sip of coffee and burned the top of her mouth. “After I finished school I came to London to study fashion. I qualified, and now I’m putting together my first collection.”

“Clothes?” His gaze dipped to her feet. “Or shoes maybe? That pair is wicked.”

She flexed her toes. “Have you a thing for shoes?” The moment the words left her mouth she wished she could call them back. Especially when he arched a black brow.

“I can appreciate a woman’s shoes as much as the next man.”

Heat flared into April’s face.

“But more for what they do to a woman’s legs than anything else. Obviously.”

He was looking at her ankles.

She crossed them. Bond had never found himself in this situation. She felt as gauche and flustered as she had when she was a teenager. But she wasn’t a teenager anymore. She was a woman. With a mission.

April gritted her teeth. Took a long look from his powerful calves to his big feet. “I like your shoes too.” Her voice sounded husky. Flirty husky.

His gaze shot up. The eyes that met hers held an expression of stunned disbelief. As though he’d been playing with a puppy that had suddenly bared its teeth and then torn a chunk out of his hand.

Once upon a time, he’d have joked it away.

He stretched his foot out. Twisted his ankle back and forth. “They’re Albios.”

Designer sneakers? Obviously Matthew had moved up in the world. Big house, fancy shoes. What else?

“You know Albios, right?”

“Are you a shoe snob? Because I can’t afford Manolos.”

He glanced at her shoes again. “Those do the job.”

Whatever job that was remained unspecified.

“So.” He rubbed the trace of dark stubble on his chin with his knuckles. “Why are you here?”

*****

April Leigh looked nothing like her sister. June had modeled herself after an old-time screen goddess, like Marilyn or Zaza,Zsa Zsa all blonde and curvy. Even as a teen she dressed to make the most of her assets, and was always perfectly made up.

April, on the other hand, was as natural as they come. She might be wearing make-up, for surely no woman had eyelashes as long and dark as hers naturally, but her skin was pale with a dusting of faint freckles. Her hair, sparrow brown, was straight and long, pulled back from her face with a tortoiseshell clasp. Her full mouth was unadorned by lipstick. The moment Matthew wondered what it might feel like against his, he looked away.

At first, he’d been thrown off by her long legs and unfamiliar curves. But then he’d recognized her eyes. Cornflower blue with little gold specks. They at least were familiar.

She’d been shy, back then. Sort of uncoordinated, always bumping into things. But she’d been cute and fun. He remembered the conversations they had while he was waiting for June to be ready to go out. Talks about the universe, about her desire to become a vet. Where had that girl gone?

The April who sat at his kitchen table was all grown up. She eyed him with suspicion through guarded eyes. The exchange of words about his legs and hers had definitely held a trace of flirt. And to be honest, if they’d met for the first time today, he’d have no compunction about acting on the attraction which had flared pretty darned instantly the moment he’d seen her standing on his doorstep. Flirting was as natural as breathing, with the right person.

She wasn’t the right person.

Matthew crossed his arms.

She’d started to fidget the moment he asked the question. Her throat moved. She seemed to be summoning all her resources, as if preparing for battle.

The air was thick with anticipation. If she were a friend, he’d take pity on her and change the subject, but he wanted her answer so he let it be.

She twisted a lock of hair between her fingers. Bit her bottom lip. Then blasted him with her cornflower gaze. “I’ve come to talk to you about June’s wedding.”

An unfamiliar anger exploded through Matthew like an electric shock.

Typical.
June was all about making those who loved her do her bidding. His non-response to the invitation must have irritated her, and so she’d sent April to get an acceptance.

There was no way he was playing this game.

“You must have better things to do than visit all of her guests to make sure they’ve received their invitations.” He rubbed the back of his head. “You can tick me off, I got one.”

Let June stew. There was absolutely no way in hell he’d go to her wedding. Not stating his intentions was petty, but petty felt good. In fact, the prospect of leaving June in the lurch, wondering if he was going to turn up, was incredibly satisfying.

“Are you going?” April tilted her jaw up a fraction.

The smooth curve of her neck was lean and smooth. He wanted to trace it with his fingers. Matthew gritted his teeth. “I think that’s between June and me, don’t you?” This conversation was over. Matthew stood. “It’s been good to see you, April, but I really should get a run in.” He walked around the table to her, in an unmistakable get-out-of-here move.

She didn’t get up. “June doesn’t know I’m here.” She swallowed. “Please give me a moment of your time.”

He looked closer.

Her throat moved and she seemed to have paled to milk-white.

“She didn’t send you?”

“No.” Her hands clenched into fists on the lap of her short leather skirt. “June told me she invited you, and I came to ask you not to come.”

The thought of attending June’s wedding hadn’t been remotely appealing, but this—April’s insistence that he shouldn’t—sparked his interest. “Why not?”

“Would you sit?”

He was still looming over her, and it seemed, making her nervous.

He pulled out the chair nearest to her and sat.

“The thing is… Well…the past is over. She’s moved on, and you must have moved on too.”

He nodded.

“I mean, going to the wedding might make your girlfriend insecure, and...”

“What if there’s no girlfriend?”

“There’s no girlfriend?” Her eyes widened a fraction. She chewed on her bottom lip.

“Not at the moment, no.”

“Ah.” Her eyes darted to the kitchen table, as though the pot of marmalade dead center was incredibly interesting. “I don’t know why June invited you, but surely you can see that going to the wedding would be foolish.”

“Foolish?” Matthew frowned. Did she think he was going to run off with her sister or something?

“Foolish. Because I don’t think she’s told her fiancé she invited you. And his parents are very conservative. I don’t think they’d approve.”

“She has told her fiancé about her past, I presume?”

“Yes, but knowing about you and having you at their wedding are very different things.” She smoothed her hair back. “Michael could be confused, could be hurt…”

“Have you a crush on your sister’s fiancé, April?” he asked quietly.

She frowned. “Of course not. He’s not my type.”

Immediately Matthew found himself wondering what exactly was her type. Was he her type? He rubbed his neck and wished this whole situation wasn’t happening. It would be easy to stop it; all he had to do was tell her he had no intention of attending the wedding. But she hadn’t come out with the true reason she was so frantic he shouldn’t go. And letting her off the hook at this point would mean he’d never know.

“My mother has a weak heart, and my father…”

June’s father had always been a bulldog. “Your father what?”

“My father isn’t in the mood for keeping the past in the past. If you come to the wedding I’m sure he’ll make a scene.”

So even so many years later, June hadn’t come clean about what had happened between them. If he’d cared about June, he would have been disappointed. Now, paradoxically, the only thing that rankled was the knowledge that April considered him a total bastard.

“Why should he make a scene?” He knew the answer, but couldn’t resist goading her into saying it.

“You’re the runaway groom. You left my sister when she needed you.” Her lip curled in obvious distain. “You’ve broken her heart once, are you really ready to ruin her future?”

Anger blazed through Matthew in a heated rush. He clenched his teeth and breathed in through his nose. The urge to throw her out, to tell her straight up to just go to hell was a strong one.

His hands shook. “I can be civilized. I’m sure your parents can be to. And June wants me there.”

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, then opened them again. “I’m begging you not to go. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

Her mouth opened into a perfect O at his whispered word.

“I’m irritated you consider me some sort of monster, April.” He reached out and stroked her bare arm. “I think you don’t really know me at all.”

Her gaze met his, and for the life of him he couldn’t look away.

“I think you need to get to know me better. I haven’t replied to the invitation yet, and maybe I’ll go, maybe not. I’m certainly not going to decline just because you think badly of me.”

“I…”

“If you want me not to go to the wedding, you’ll have to persuade me of the folly of going. And you’re going to have to shelve the contempt you feel.”

Her gaze flickered to his mouth.

“We can start tomorrow night, over dinner.” He stood. “Write down your phone number.”

Chapter Four

As an emergency talkathon was needed, Marie and Eliza came over for Sunday lunch. April had cooked a stuffed chicken with rosemary and roast potatoes, and had made cauliflower cheese, and gravy. Comfort food.

The table was set. Marie poured three glasses of chardonnay, and they sat down at the table. “So, what’s going on?”

April hadn’t wanted to go into it on the phone, so her friends were clueless about the situation she’d gotten herself into.

“I am going out to dinner tomorrow night.”

“With a man? Woo! Go you!” Eliza’s cheerleading made everything worse.

April groaned and rubbed her forehead.

“Ah, not woo?” Eliza asked.

“Definitely not woo.” April swallowed a mouthful of wine. “I think I’ve really screwed up.”

“What’s going on?” Marie took a mouthful of food, and raised her eyes heavenward. “This is delicious.”

“I went to see Matthew, to ask him not to go to the wedding.”

Marie’s eye’s opened so wide she looked as though she’d been electrocuted. “You...what?”

“What’s he like?” Eliza asked.

“He was always good-looking, but now…well let’s just say he’s improved with age.” With Eliza and Marie she could be totally honest, and the turmoil swirling around in her gut since yesterday needed an outlet. “He’s irresistibly gorgeous.  I flirted with him.”

Marie did goldfish face. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.

“I didn’t mean to.” April pulled her black tee-shirt out of her jeans. Her stomach felt hot. “I wore the black skirt and the way he looked at my legs…well I just couldn’t help it.” She took another mouthful of wine.

“He flirted back, I take it?”

Self-disgust flooded April. “Yes, he flirted back. I feel dirty. I liked it.” What sort of a woman flirted with the man who’d made her sister pregnant and then ran out on her? “I’m a total monster.”

“The whole thing with your sister is over and done.” Marie tossed her hair back. “You once said you had a crush on him years ago.”

“Every girl with a pulse had a crush on Matthew Logan. But there’s no way I can get involved with him. It would be the ultimate betrayal of June. The guy is a snake.”

“So why are you going out with him? Eliza asked.

“I asked him not to go to the wedding.” She remembered the hint of hurt in his eyes that had appeared for a brief moment. “I sort of gave him hell for running out on her years ago.”

“Ouch,” Marie said.

“Yeah, ouch. I think I made him really angry. He told me I’d formed a wrong impression of him. That I need to get to know him better. Tomorrow night is to be the first step.”

Maria pushed a roast potato around, covering it with gravy. “He might have a point; after all there are two sides to every story. You might even get to like the guy.”

Liking Matthew wasn’t an option. “Hmm.”

 “Keep an open mind. Go to dinner. Treat him like a human being, rather than the pariah he actually is. You can ease into it; make him see how going to the wedding would be a bad idea. What could possibly go wrong?” Eliza was a perennial optimist.