A Wifey for the Bad Boy(76)

"Where's your car? How did you get here?"

"It's down the road." He pointed. "Got a flat tire. They don't make rental cars like they used to. Can I please come in? I promise I'm who I say I am, and I'm not up to any harm."

Sara tapped her finger on her chin, a gesture that always helped her think.

"Tell me something about Doug that only a friend would know."

Teeth chattering, Mathew stepped closer to the peephole. "He used to sing Rolling Stone's songs to his daughter to get her to sleep. It's really cold out here."

Sara unlocked the door and Mathew hurried in.

"He told you that? About singing to me?"

"Sure did. I was trying to get some kids to sleep one night and he suggested the Stones. Something about the rhythm of the music. Hello, I'm Mathew." He held out a soggy hand.

She took it gingerly. "Sara. Sorry about keeping you outside. I didn't know Dad was expecting you."

"I'm early. And I guess he's late."

"I just got a text. He got held up in San Diego but he's on the plane now. He'll be here in a couple of hours. Oh, sorry again. I don't mean to be so rude. You're sopping wet, aren't you?" She shown the light up and down him.

"Electric out or are you just creating an atmosphere?"

Sara grinned. Funny guy, even as miserable as he must be, standing there wet as a fish.

"I think you're bigger than my dad but I can probably find you some sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt."

"That would be great. Any chance I could take a hot shower? And if there's any dry wood, we should get a fire going in that cave Doug calls a fireplace."

"Yeah, it's kind of a huge cavern, isn't it? There's wood stacked over there. Probably some kindling and I hope matches. Let me go find you clothes. I guess you can use the guest bathroom in the Blue Room. That's…"

"I know where all the bedrooms are. Take my briefcase and my overnight bag, please. I think I managed to not get the contents too wet. How about we light some candles?"

"I don't know where he keeps them." Sara set the case down on the floor. It might leave marks on the wood tables.

"I see a few right here." Mathew waved his arm.

Sara scanned the room. "These are decorations."

"I'll buy him new ones." Mathew shrugged out of his jacket and before she knew what happened, unfastened his pants and stepped out of them.

"Uh…"

"I don't want to drip all over his oriental rugs. Grab those matches and hand me a candle."

She hurried to the fireplace, still using her phone and flashlight, and retrieved the wooden matches, then picked up a heavy candleholder from a shelf. "Here." She handed it to him.

He scraped the match on an end table and laughed when she moved to stop him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt Doug's precious antiques. If I do, I'll replace them. I've got plenty of money."

He spoke the last words casually, not like he was bragging, but stating a fact.

"There. Better." He touched the flame to the wick, illuminating his face fully.

Oh dear.

Mathew was hot. Sculpted cheekbones highlighted a rugged face, the kind that had seen plenty of sun, ocean, and joy. Laugh lines framed his eyes and mouth. A mouth that now turned up into a knowing grin and eyes that watched her watching him. He put the candleholder on the table.

"Step close, into the light. Let me look at you."

She did, glad for the shadows that hid a blush she felt creeping up her face.

"Pretty Sara, all grown up. You look a lot different from your pictures."

She shuffled her feet. "I quit sending him pictures after high school. And he never asked for any."

"He should have."

Enough of this scrutiny. "I'll find you some clothes and bring them to the Blue Room. There are towels in the bathroom."

She turned and headed to the staircase, his gaze like a warm ray of sun on her back.





Chapter 2

Mathew Stephens. Sara racked her brain as she headed to the master bedroom. Had she ever heard Doug mention this guy before? Probably not, since they rarely discussed anything personal. A real estate investment project? Her father hadn't mentioned that either. She stuck the flashlight in her mouth and dug through his chest of drawers, where she thought he might keep his workout clothes. There. A loose pair of sweat pants and a workout shirt. Hopefully they would fit her visitor.

A shiver crept along her spine as she thought of the view she'd already had of Mathew's body. Nice. Even in the dim light she'd seen he was well built. Long, muscular legs, a solid torso. He looked younger than her dad. For just a moment, she allowed the vision of his smiling face and the sound of his husky voice to bring warmth to her heart. This guy seemed like fun. He called her pretty.