Barbara Boswell - The Engagement Party

Hannah shivered. She felt edgy. Worst of all, she felt ridiculous! Her imagination, always active—why had she been the only Farley ever to possess one?—had clearly gone into overdrive. Dracula, indeed! The man was obviously a tenant here, seeking out the proprietor, and most rudely, too!

His bare arms flashed to mind, unnerving her further. He was muscular, his forearms covered with a sprinkling of hair, his shoulders broad. His hands were big, his fingers long. He was probably very strong.

Hannah was disconcerted by her detailed observation of the man. After all, she’d only seen him for a few moments. And then he had summoned Katie to his room. The party no longer held Hannah’s interest. Impulsively she climbed the stairs to the second floor of the three-storied house, hurrying through the halls, listening.

“...I’ve been in dumps and dives all over the world, but this place has to be the worst! I have never experienced...”

The irate male voice was coming from the end of the hall, and Hannah rushed into the room. Katie was standing beside the window, looking mortified as the man she called Mr. Granger lambasted the Clover Street Boardinghouse, comparing it unfavorably to accommodations found anywhere in an inner-city slum.

Hannah glanced around and understood why. It looked like it was raining inside the room. Water didn’t simply trickle or drip; it was pouring through several places in the ceiling, as if there were shower heads embedded in the roof directing the water down into this bedroom.

“The roof is leaking,” Hannah blurted out.

“Did you figure that out all by yourself?” The stranger turned from Katie to Hannah, his dark eyes mocking. ”You’re a real genius, aren’t you, little girl?”

“I am not a little girl! ” Hannah snapped, instantly incensed. “Of all the sexist remarks to make, that one—”

The man’s eyes swept over her. “I was referring to your height. You’re short. Little. Can’t a man make a truthful observation without being called sexist?”

Hannah was indignant. Her height—or the lack of it—was a sore point with her. She was barely five foot three and considered herself too short. She had never stopped wishing that she were tall and willowy like her two older sisters.

Tonight, the nearly four-inch heels she wore gave her a sense of height and power. “You’re not much taller than I am. Does that make you a little boy?” She squared her shoulders and held her head high. Her power shoes did bring her somewhat closer to his height, which was an inch or two under six feet.

“You’re on stilts and you’re still shorter, honey,” he observed ungallantly.

“Mr. Granger, I am sorry.” Katie jumped into the decidedly confrontational conversation. “I was aware that the roof had a-a couple of small leaky spots but I didn’t realize...I never dreamed...this has never happened before—”

Granger turned back to Katie. “Look at this!” He had been momentarily diverted, but was not ready to be appeased. With a sweep of his hand, he indicated a stream of water splashing onto a case. “That is my laptop computer. If it hadn’t been in its case, it would’ve been soaked.” He picked up the case, moving it out from under the cascade. “Do you have any idea what damage water causes to electronic equipment, Miss Jones? And this—” He pointed to the bed where the indoor deluge was in the process of drenching the pillow. “If I’d been asleep, I would have been shocked awake by a blast of rain on my head!”

“Well, you weren’t asleep so you weren’t shocked awake by a blast of rain on your head,” Hannah said coolly. “And your precious computer was in its case so it wasn’t damaged by water. As far as I can see, there’s no harm done, certainly nothing to warrant this tantrum you’re throwing. What’s a little water anyway? Are you a complainer by nature, Mr. Granger? Would you like some cheese to go along with your whine?”

She had the immense satisfaction of watching his face redden. She knew how very much men hated to be accused of whining! It was the antithesis of the ideal of strong, silent male fortitude.

Katie, however, was aghast. “Oh, no, Hannah!” She gripped her throat, gulping for breath. “Mr. Granger has every reason to be infuriated. I agree with him. These conditions are inexcusable and totally unacceptable! Mr. Granger, I hope you’ll give the boardinghouse another chance to make this up to you. I’ll move you to a new room immediately, and of course, you won’t be charged for today or tonight—or—or tomorrow, either. I am so terribly, terribly sorry.”

“Katie, there is no need to grovel to this man.” Hannah was speaking to Katie, but her eyes were focused on the darkly rugged Mr. Granger. He was staring back at her, his black gaze piercing and intense. “I think he owes you an apology,” Hannah continued gleefully. “He’s behaved rudely, summoning you up here as if he’s some sort of feudal lord taking the servant girl to task.”

Katie choked. “Mr. Granger,” she began placatingly, “please don’t—”

“Who is she and why is she here?” Granger asked Katie, his eyes never leaving Hannah. “If she turns out to be the demented co-owner of this place, I’m checking out immediately.”

Katie ran her hand through her hair in an agitated manner that left it tousled. “Mr. Granger, this is Hannah Kaye Farley who—who owns a shop here in Clover. Hannah, my guest is Matthew Granger. He checked in this morning. And, Hannah, I would greatly appreciate it if you would go back downstairs and make sure the party is running smoothly while I move Mr. Granger to another room.”

Hannah and Matthew Granger continued to stare at each other.

“Since Miss Farley made it a point to stick her elegant little nose into your business, I think it’s only fair that she stay and help you make the room switch.” Matthew arched his dark brows, his expression challenging. Before either Hannah or Katie could say another word, he dumped the wet case containing the laptop computer into Hannah’s arms. “Here, you can carry this.”

Hannah was so startled she nearly dropped it. “It’s all wet!” She felt the bodice of her silver minidress absorb the moisture and knew it would leave a visible damp spot.

“What’s a little water?” Matthew drawled. “Are you a complainer by nature, Miss Farley? Perhaps you’d like some cheese to go with your whine?”

Katie froze, bracing herself for Hannah’s response while mentally reviewing the coverage in her insurance policy.

But instead of flinging the laptop to the floor or on Matthew’s head, Hannah flashed a sudden smile. “Touché, Mr. Granger.”

Matthew was completely disarmed. He studied the sensual perfection of her mouth and had to remind himself to breathe. His heart began to pump faster, making heat surge through him. Her face was exquisite, her complexion smooth and milky white, an intriguing contrast to her raven black hair. Her gray eyes, wide set and framed by dark lashes and brows, shone with intelligence and fire.

He’d been attracted to her the moment he laid eyes on her, when he’d come downstairs to rail at Katie. He’d been too attracted to her. Sensing trouble, he’d looked away, not daring even to glance at her one more time.

But it was happening all over again. The darkly gorgeous Hannah Farley had totally unhinged him. This time he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Her well-shaped, scarlet red lips were made for kissing. For passion. Matthew’s body began to tighten with need.

As a man who prided himself on never losing his head over a woman, on always maintaining control over his emotions in his dealings with the opposite sex, he found it more than a little disturbing that she could command his attention so easily and so completely.