My Man Pendleton(20)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m afraid I don’t quite follow you.”

He chuckled, a sound that was more nervous than humorous, and she was amazed to witness the blush that crept over his features. “I’m sorry. I guess that didn’t make much sense, did it? You make me say dumb things, that’s all.”

“I make you say dumb things?” Oh, now that was an interesting development, seeing as she’d been thinking the same thing about herself. “But I hardly know you.”

“That’s the problem,” he responded. “Beautiful women always make me nervous until I get to know them better.” He paused a brief, but telling, moment before adding, “And even then, I tend to make a mess of things.”

A little burst of heat exploded in Faith’s belly and quickly spread outward to warm the rest of her. “M-Mr. McClellan,” she stammered. “I-I’m not sure it’s appropriate for us to—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he interjected, taking a step backward, clearly knowing he’d overstepped the bounds of…of whatever it was that had them bound. “I apologize,” he continued hastily. “Like I said, beautiful women make me say dumb things. And you’re just very—” He halted abruptly, then cleared his throat with some difficulty. “Here—” He extended the keys out to her again. “I’m sorry I bothered you. I’ll go.”

Faith reached for her keys, but no sooner had she closed her fingers over them than she discovered she didn’t really want Holt McClellan to leave. Yet she had no idea what to say to make him stay, now that she’d made him feel uncomfortable. So she only retrieved her keys and thanked him quietly and began to close her front door. Almost as if they had a mind of their own, though, her fingers, instead of turning the deadbolt and key in the lock, unhooked the chain and opened the door wider.

“You didn’t have to come all this way to bring them back,” she said. “You could have just mailed them to me.”

He had turned around to make his way toward the stairs, but at her quietly uttered statement, he spun around again. His wool, charcoal-colored overcoat swung open with the action, to reveal an obviously expensive suit of the same hue beneath. He was very, very handsome. And he was clearly surprised that she was continuing their interaction. Perhaps as surprised as Faith was herself.

“No, I couldn’t,” he told her.

“Why not?”

“You’re not in the phone book. I couldn’t find your address.”

Oh, yeah. She’d forgotten about that. So if that was the case, then— “Then how did you find out where I live?” she asked him.

He smiled apologetically. “I, uh, I have a friend who’s highly placed at the phone company. He owed me a favor. Actually, it was more like I blackmailed him,” he confided. “He gave me your address.”

She wasn’t sure if she should be angry about that or not. Strangely, she found that she wasn’t. “Then, once you got my address, you could have mailed my keys to me,” she pointed out.

He met her gaze levelly. “No, I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because then I wouldn’t have been able to see you.”

“Oh.”

The soft, single syllable was all she could manage, because the fire in her midsection began to burn hotter. It nearly exploded when she glanced down and remembered she was standing there in her pajamas. She felt heat seep into her face as she fingered the collar of her shirt ineffectually. “I, um…” she said eloquently. “Uh…”

He laughed when he understood her train of thought. “I guess I should have phoned you before I came over. But your apartment was on my way home, so it just seemed easier. But now that I’m here, it’s not easy at all to… What I mean is…” He laughed again. “We both seem to be having a little trouble with the English language tonight, don’t we? Funny. It wasn’t a problem this morning.”

Faith gripped the door harder and forced herself not to invite him inside. Their encounter this morning was entirely different from the one they were having now. For one thing, they both had their guards up then. Now, however…

“Yeah, about that,” she said. “I’m sorry I left so abruptly.”

“So am I,” he murmured. “Why did you?”

“You … you weren’t what I was expecting.”

“That makes two of us,” he said. “You weren’t what I was expecting, either.”

She told herself not to ask, but heard herself say anyway, “Is that good?”

The smile he gave her this time was cryptic. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Oh.”

“What were you expecting?” he asked, deftly turning the tables.

“I’m not sure. Just not… you.”

“Is that good?” he echoed her earlier question. Faith bit her lip, wondering just how honest she should be. Then she decided there was no harm in speaking the truth. Not anymore. “Not really,” she said softly.

Her response seemed to surprise him. “Why not?”

“You remind me of someone. Someone I’d rather not be reminded of. Seeing you this morning… It kind of knocked me off-kilter, that’s all.”

“I’d apologize, but there’s not much I can do about the way I look.”

And Faith wouldn’t ask him to change his appearance if he could. Even if he did evoke way too many memories of Stephen, there was no reason in the world to alter Holt McClellan’s looks. Why mess with perfection, after all?

“No, there’s no need for you to apologize,” she said softly. “No harm done.” Not yet. anyway. “Well, thank you for bringing my keys,” she hurried on. “It was nice of you to come all this way.”

“Like I said. It was on my way home.”

Everyone in Louisville knew the McClellan family lived in Glenview. As Faith knew, Holt worked downtown on Main Street. It was one block north, then a straight shot out River Road for him to drive home at night. Faith, on the other hand, lived south of downtown, in the Highlands. Deep in thHeighlands, in the gridwork of Cherokee Triangle, a few blocks off notoriously congested Bardstown Road, right by the difficult-to-navigate circle surrounding the statue of Daniel Boone. Her apartment wasn’t anywhere near his way home. Holt went to a lot of trouble to bring her keys to her. Why? She had no idea. Although he told her he thought she was a beautiful woman, she had little reason to believe he meant anything by the comment. Men said things. Women knew that. It was all part of the game, the one rule with which Faith was definitely familiar. But Holt McClellan seemed to be using a playbook she’d never glimpsed before.