a rich girl whose shop is just a diversion until a suitable candidate for your privileged little hand shows up?”
“My shop holds its own, not that it’s any business of yours. And I am definitely not in a rush to marry anyone,” she added, a little too fervently.
“Why not? Every woman I’ve ever known has been burning to find a husband and take that long walk down the aisle, all decked out in white lace and sequins.”
“Good heavens, what kind of women have you been spending time with?”
“Ones with bad taste in wedding attire?”
“Not to mention bad taste in men, if they’re burning to take that long walk down the aisle with you!”
He grinned. “I didn’t say they all wanted to marry me. I said they all wanted to get married. Just like you do, honey. Let me guess. You want some tall, elegant Southern aristocrat who’ll keep you in the grand style you’ve always been accustomed to. Or maybe a good-looking, fun-loving socialite who glides along on his connections and his boyish charm.”
“Been there. Done that.” Hannah feigned boredom, but she was far from bored. There was a current of sexual tension sizzling between them, which energized her, challenged her, too.
“So you’re a lady with a past? I’m intrigued.”
“Don’t be. You’re not my type.”
“You’re saying I don’t stand a chance with you?” He sounded amused, not insulted.
“Not a chance,” Hannah affirmed. She sashayed by him, deeper into the room, taking care to avoid the water dripping steadily from the various leaks in the ceiling.
On top of the bureau lay a big canvas bag, which was half open and crammed full of notebooks, folders and books, both paperback and hardcover. She peered inside, but before she could glimpse any of the titles, Matthew stalked across the room to stand between her and the bureau, blocking both her view and her access to the bag.
“Do you make a habit of barging into people’s rooms and snooping through their things?” His tone was light but his dark eyes were hard and forbidding.
“What do you have in there that you don’t want me to see?” Hannah asked curiously. When she took a step closer, he sidestepped her, continuing to block her view of the bag and its contents.
“Why do you feel the need to know?” he countered.
“I don’t.” Hannah shrugged. “But you’re awfully defensive about it. Are you one of those creepy perverts who travels with his own personal stash of hard-core pornography?”
“You do have an interesting imagination.” Matthew tried but failed to suppress a grin. “But the answer is no. Sorry if I’ve disappointed you.”
Her body reacted to his smile, her heartbeat accelerating as hot little quivers pierced her abdomen. Hannah tried to will them away. “Why are you here in Clover, Mr. Granger?” she demanded sharply.
“I’m a writer.” His eyes held hers. “This bag holds research and reference materials. I’m here to...gather information for the book I plan to write.”
“I checked room 206 and it’s fine.” Katie rushed into the room, panting from exertion. “Shall we get you moved in there, Mr. Granger?”
“I would appreciate that. And please call me Matthew.” He zipped up his canvas tote and grabbed its straps. “Lead the way, Miss Jones.”
“If we’ve moved to a first-name basis, you must use Katie, please.” Katie was relieved that his fury seemed to have abated and that he was willing to be placated. “May I carry something for you, Matthew?”
“The laptop.” Matthew pointed, and Katie scooped it up.
“Katie, did you know he’s a writer?” Hannah eyed him dubiously. “At least he claims he is. He says he’s here to do research for his book.”
“A writer here in Clover?” Katie paused at the threshold. “Are you going to write a book about the town?” she asked him eagerly. “I read a wonderful novel about Savannah a few months ago and—”
“I know the book,” Matthew cut in. “Mine won’t be anything like it. I’m going to describe the insect life of a small Southern coastal town. Clover seemed a likely setting.”
“You’re writing a book about insects in Clover?” Hannah was incredulous.
“I’m sure it will be very interesting,” Katie said diplomatically.
“Will it be like a textbook?” pressed Hannah.
“Like, yes.” Matthew’s eyes mocked her. “I promise to send you both an autographed copy.”
“I don’t believe for one minute that you’re here to write an insect textbook,” Hannah declared boldly. The gleam in his dark eyes was all the proof she needed to know that he was putting them on. Katie was too polite to call him on it, but Hannah had nothing to lose. He wasn’t her tenant. “And I don’t—”
“As long as you’re determined to stick around, you may as well make yourself useful, angel face. Take my shirts from the closet and bring them to 206,” Matthew directed Hannah.
He didn’t wait around to see if she followed his orders. Obviously he expected to be obeyed, just as he had assumed that Katie would follow him upstairs after he’d issued his earlier command. Matthew strode from the room, Katie at his heels.
“Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.” Hannah gave a mock salute. The man barked out orders like a general on the battlefield. But it was her curiosity, not any sense of obedience, that drove her to open the closet door.
An assortment of shirts was hung neatly on hangers on the rod, and Hannah draped them over her arm. From the number of them, it appeared that Matthew Granger planned to stick around for a while. There were also two lightweight summer suits hanging there. Hannah decided she could carry them, too.
She felt the hard lump in the inside pocket of the jacket as she added the suits to her load. The same innate curiosity that had prompted her to examine the books inside his canvas bag caused her to investigate the bulge in the pocket.
Hannah’s eyes widened in shocked alarm when she pulled out a small, gleamingly polished handgun.
Two
Hannah dropped the gun back into the pocket as if scalded by its touch. Her heart thumped wildly against her ribs. She hadn’t believed Matthew’s lame assertion about being here to research and write about insect life in Clover, and the sight of this gun confirmed her doubts.
Why would he carry a gun? Was he a police officer? She knew Ford Maguire, sheriff of Clover; just yesterday she’d had coffee with him at the diner, and he hadn’t mentioned anything about a new officer coming to town. And it seemed logical that Katie would’ve mentioned that her new tenant was a cop when she’d introduced him.
Unless Katie didn’t know. Perhaps Matthew Granger was doing some sort of
