Page 32 of A Man for Amanda
He ran his tongue around his teeth. “You’ve got me there. How about a drive after you get off work?”
It would be nice, she thought, to go driving with him up into the hills, with the windows open and the air streaming. But, regretfully, duty came first.
“I can’t. C.C.’s shower’s tonight. We’re surprising her when she gets home from work.” She frowned a little. “It’s on your list.”
“Guess it slipped my mind. Tomorrow then.”
“I have the final meeting with the photographer, then I have to help Suzanna with the flowers. Not the next night, either,” she said before he could ask. “Most of the out-of-town guests will be arriving, plus we’ve got the rehearsal dinner.”
“Then the wedding,” he said with a nod. “After the wedding, Calhoun.”
“After the wedding, I’ll...” She smiled, realizing she was enjoying herself. “I’ll let you know.” Grabbing her wrap, she headed for the gate.
“Hey. I haven’t got a towel.”
She tossed a laugh over her shoulder. “I know.”
Late that afternoon, Sloan stood out on the lower terrace, making sketches of the exterior of The Towers. He wanted to add another outside stairway without disturbing the integrity of the building. He stopped when Suzanna came out carrying two wicker baskets pregnant with spring flowers.
“I’m sorry.” She hesitated, then tried a smile. “I didn’t know you were out here. I’m going to set things up for the shower.”
“I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”
“That’s all right.” She set the basket down and went back inside.
Over the next few minutes, she went back and forth, carrying out chairs and paper decorations. They passed the time in nerve-racking silence until she finally set aside one of Amanda’s swans and looked at him.
“Mr. O’Riley, have we met before?”
He kept right on sketching. “No.”
“I wondered because you seemed to know me, and have a poor opinion of me.”
His gaze lifted coldly to hers. “I don’t know you—Mrs. Dumont.”
“Then why—” She broke off. She hated confrontations, the way they tightened up her stomach muscles. Turning away, she started back inside. She could feel his eyes on her, icy and resentful. After bracing a hand on the jamb, she forced herself to turn back. “No, I’m not going to do this. You’re in my home, Mr. O’Riley, and I refuse to walk on eggshells in my own home ever again. Now I want to know what your problem is.”
He tossed his sketch pad onto a small glass-topped table. “The name doesn’t ring any bells with you, Mrs. Dumont? O’Riley doesn’t strike a chord?”
“No, why should it?”
His mouth tightened. “Maybe if I add a name to it. Megan. Megan O’Riley. Hear any bells now?”
“No.” Frustrated, she pushed a hand through her hair. “Will you get to the point?”
“I guess it’s easy for someone like you to forget. She wasn’t anyone to you but a slight inconvenience.”
“Who?”
“Megan. My sister, Megan.”
Completely lost, Suzanna shook her head. “I don’t know your sister.”
The fact that the name meant nothing to her only infuriated him. Sloan stepped toward her, ignoring the quick fear in her eyes. “No, you never met her face-to-face. Why bother? You managed to see that she was pushed aside easily enough. Not that you ended up with any prize. Baxter Dumont was always a bastard, but she loved him.”
“Your sister?” Suzanna lifted an unsteady hand to rub at her temple. “Your sister and Bax.”
“Starting to get through?” When she started to turn away, he grabbed her arm and whirled her back. “Was it for love or money?” he demanded. “Either way, you could have shown some compassion. Damn it, she was seventeen and pregnant. Couldn’t you have stood back far enough to let the spineless sonofabitch see his son?”
