My Man Pendleton(32)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

“Wonderful. I was hoping I hadn’t missed that.”

“Mrs. Ivory?”

The summons startled her, and she scrambled for an excuse to explain why Holt McClellan, of Hensley’s Distilleries, Inc., would be standing behind her, holding her black velvet coat open for her to step into. Fortunately, she was spared trying to come up with something plausible, because Holt took it upon himself to greet Miriam.

“Mrs. Anderson,” he said, dipping his head toward the other woman in acknowledgment. “Nice to see you again.”

Miriam roused herself to her full five-feet-zero inches and snorted. Actually snorted. How rude.

“I doubt that,” the other woman said haughtily. “I can’t imagine that you or your kind would ever find it nice to see someone of my kind.”

Faith turned to Holt to see how he would react. But he only smiled mildly. “It’s not like we’re matter and anti-matter, Mrs. Anderson. We can both occupy the same room without the world coming to a fiery Armageddon.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Miriam replied coolly.

Holt turned his attention to Faith once again. “If you’re ready?” he said, holding up her coat.

Sheepishly, Faith smiled at Miriam as she moved the few steps necessary to don the garment he held with far too much familiarity. Holt settled it around her, brushing his hands over her shoulders momentarily before releasing her. The simple touch was harmless, meaningless. But for some reason, Faith’s heart began to hammer hard in her chest.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper.

“You’re welcome,” he told her, his gaze never leaving hers. “Shall we go?”

“Faith?”

She turned to her boss, having known she wouldn’t get off easily. “Yes, Miriam?”

The other woman inclined her head toward Holt. “Is everything all right?”

Faith nodded. “Mr. McClellan just offered to see me to my car. He didn’t think I should go alone.”

Miriam pulled her head back to eye Holt, not bothering to hide her contempt. “Are you so sure you wouldn’t be safer alone?”

Until recently, Faith would have assured anyone who asked that question that, yes, by all means, she would undoubtedly be safer alone. But suddenly, she was hesitant to feel so certain. And of course, she wasn’t with Holt McClellan, not really. A brief walk to the car did not a relationship make. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel as if each step she took with him was leading to something. What exactly, she couldn’t quite say.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured Miriam.

“I could ask George—”

“It won’t be necessary,” she interrupted her employer. “I’ll be fine.”

Beside her, Holt chuckled, but there wasn’t an ounce of merriment in the sound. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Anderson,” he said. “I don’t bite until the third date.”

And before Miriam had a chance to respond with anything other than an open mouth, Holt spread his fingers lightly over the small of Faith’s back and steered her toward the exit. Maybe it wasn’t their third date, she thought as she allowed herself to be led away, but it was their third encounter.

Oh, dear.

Holt honestly hadn’t expected to see Faith again for the rest of his life, and he’d been cranky as hell all weekend as a result. Then, as if by magic, she materialized like the proverbial stranger across a crowded room, dressed in a skimpy little black dress that roused him faster and more fiercely than he’d ever been roused before. But as quickly as he found her again, she was leaving. And that, he decided, was a fact he was going to have to change. Immediately.

They strode in silence through the Brown’s elegant lobby, then Holt held the door for Faith, inhaling deeply of her sweet perfume as she passed through. When he followed her out into the crisp night air, he couldn’t resist drawing near her, hooking her hand lightly through his arm, covering her fingers harmlessly with his.

“Where are you parked?” he asked her again, unable to tolerate the silence any longer.

“Not far,” she replied, her words emerging from her mouth amid a wisp of white fog. “I found a place on the street near Ninth and Broadway.”

“That’s five blocks away.”

She nodded, but didn’t look at him. “Like I said. Not far.”

“Maybe not during the day, but at night—”

“I made it to the hotel just fine, didn’t I?” she pointed out. “And it was dark when I arrived.”

“You were lucky,” he told her.

“I’m fully equipped to take care of myself, Mr. McClellan.” Her tentative tone of voice, however, belied her certainty, as did the tremor that shook her when she slid her fingers from his arm and shoved both hands into her coat pockets.

“Keep saying it like that,” he told her, “and you might believe it yourself someday.”

She glared at him. “What makes you think I don’t believe it?”

“Could be the way you glanced down at the ground when you said it,” he told her as they continued walking. “Or it could be the way you didn’t sound anywhere near convinced. Or maybe it’s the simple fact that I just don’t believe you.”

She hastened her step as they approached Fifth Street, crossing quickly just as the light changed and an LG&E van lurched forward. It was as if she wanted to be free of his company as quickly as possible, even if it meant getting plowed down by a utility truck.

“I see,” she murmured when they made it to the other side. “And, of course, whatever you believe about a person must be the way of the world, mustn’t it?”

“No,” he responded, matching her stride effortlessly. “But I’m a pretty good judge of people.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

In direct contrast to her haste to be rid of him, she stopped dead in the center of the sidewalk and spun around to face him. “Because you’re completely removed from the masses, that’s why. You don’t even know any normal people, so how could you begin to be a judge of them?”

She strode quickly forward once more, so Holt hurried alongside to keep up. “Who says I don’t know any normal people?”

“How could you? You come from one of the state’s most prominent families,” she reminded him. “You’ve had nothing but privilege, nothing but advantage, since day one. And you’ve worked for none of it. You’ve earned none of it.”