“He talked about it.” She blew out a long, slow breath. “He said we were a good match. But I think he loved the idea of marrying me more than he loved me. He was all about making the right connections, climbing social ladders, that sort of thing.”
“I don’t think Pewter and I have much in common.”
“You’re not alike at all,” Mariah said. “He’d be horrified if he knew you were passing yourself off as him.”
Mack’s smile faltered, and he turned his head away.
“I didn’t mean that as an insult.” Mariah put her hand on his arm. “It’s a compliment, really.”
Just then, Cora came back through the doorway, her cheeks rosy from the cold. Another woman swept in behind her, a stranger in an ankle length wool coat, her head wrapped in a warm scarf.
“I wonder who that is,” Mariah mumbled, watching as she wound her way between the tables toward Allie.
“You don’t know her?” Mack’s hand was inside his suit coat, his gaze fixed on the woman.
“I’ve never seen her before. But wasn’t the letter from a man?” Mariah whispered, as Cora drew closer.
“It was signed, John Smith, so the FBI reasons the name doesn’t mean anything.”
“Did anyone notice I was gone?” Cora asked, as she took her place beside Mariah. “I only smoked a half, but I ran into a friend in the main dining room.”
“No one saw you leave,” Mariah answered, still watching the newcomer. “Do you know that woman in the grey coat?”
Cora squinted across the room. “You mean Michelle? She’s the florist. She came to pick up all her vases, I imagine.”
Mariah felt Mack’s bicep relax under her fingers. She’d forgotten her hand was on his arm. She knew she ought to take it off. But she told herself the casual gesture would help with their cover story. He shifted, his hand coming to rest on top of hers, his thumb stroking her skin. Tiny butterflies fluttered in her belly.
Yes, she definitely needed to leave her hand on his arm. It was worth the sacrifice to help him do his job.
Chapter 7
When Mariah realized Mack intended to spend the night in his car, watching Allie’s house, she knew she had to do something.
“Nancy.” She pulled Allie’s mom aside as she directed everyone to where they were sleeping. “I’m sorry to bother you, but would you mind if Pewter spent the night here at the house? He could sleep on a couch, if you have one that’s not taken.”
Emma and Josie each took up a bedroom with their husbands, so Mariah and Cora were both assigned to couches in the basement family room.
Nancy pursed her lips. “He could sleep in the living room, but it’s not a very comfortable couch, especially for such a tall man. What happened? He said he had a hotel room.”
What could she say without lying? “I’ll sleep better knowing he’s here in the house.”
Nancy’s brows arched. “He must love you a lot to be willing to sleep with his legs hanging off the end of a couch just to make you happy. He’s welcome to that couch, if he wants it. I’ll grab a spare set of sheets.”
Mariah saw Mack slip out the front door and padded after him in her bare feet, following him outside without a coat. The cold hit her like an ocean wave, but she ignored it. “Mack,” she called from the porch.
He pivoted, tromping back with a stern expression. “Why are you out here? You need to stay inside and keep the door locked.”
She rubbed the goose bumps on her arms. “Nancy’s making up a couch for you, so you can sleep inside.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He jammed his hands in his pants pockets. “When I take this suit off, I won’t be fooling anybody. Your friends will know I’m not an investment banker, once they see my tattoos.”
“An investment banker could have a tattoo,” she argued. “Especially one who’d been in the military.”
“It’s a bit more than a single tattoo.” He shifted from foot to foot. “Cora said her mom and dad give her a hard time about that small tattoo on her shoulder.”
Small? Mariah would’ve described that flower as massive. But even if his was bigger, he could keep it hidden.
“Do you have a dark t-shirt you could wear?”
“I guess I could put on a long-sleeved t-shirt and take it off when everyone else goes to bed, but I don’t know if it’s worth the risk.”
Mariah had never had any interest in tattoos before, but now she was dying to see Mack’s. She made a quick decision. “So what if they see them? I don’t care what they think about you.”
“Maybe we should tell them who I really am,” Mack said. “It’s pretty obvious, I’m nothing like your friends. I’ve seen the way they look at me… everyone except Cora. They probably already wonder why you would date me.”
Mariah still thought Nancy was apt to panic if she believed some maniac might show up at any time with a gun.
“Maybe if you shaved, you’d look a little less… uhmm…” The words rugged and sexy came to mind, but she discarded them. “A little less rough.”
A deep laugh rumbled in Mack’s chest. “I shaved this morning. My beard grows fast.”
“Oh.”
As Mariah’s jaw began to quiver in the cold, Mack opened up his coat and pulled her against him. His warmth seeped into her body, his hands rubbing her back. “We need to get you inside before you freeze to death.”
With her face pressed against the hard planes of his chest, she breathed in, relishing a hint of his masculine aftershave. She could’ve stood there forever, if her feet hadn’t turned to ice cubes. But she wasn’t giving up until he agreed not to sleep out in his car. She couldn’t have that on her conscience.
“Mack,” she mumbled, burrowing against him. “I think I’ll sleep better if you’re inside.”
“Yesterday, you wouldn’t even accept that this was a real threat. What changed your mind?”
“The truth is I’m still not convinced. But you believe it, and I can feel how nervous you are. I think I’m feeding off your anxiety.”
“Whatever it takes to make you cautious,” Mack said, tightening his arms at a gust of wind. “If you don’t care about shocking your friends, I’ll sleep inside.”
Just to be careful, Mack kept his suit on until everyone else had gone to bed. He didn’t like defending his tattoos to critical people, anyway. Every drop of ink had a special meaning.
After a quick shower, he made his way through the dark house to the pallet he’d made on the floor beside the way-too-short couch, with only a small beam of light streaming in from a crack in the curtains to illuminate his path. He laid down and reached under the couch to reassure himself that his gun was where he’d left it.
The night would be a long one as he would use his training to avoid deep sleep, so he could be alert at the slightest noise. He was pleased with his location near the front door, especially since the back door opened into a yard with two easily excitable dogs, who were unlikely to let an intruder pass without giving a warning.