was when Marti lost all awareness of anything or anyone other than Noah Perry, whose gaze was definitely trained on her as she congratulated Wyatt and Neily.
Noah didn’t approach her, though. He just kept an eye on her as the music began to play and guests started to mingle. And even when she caught him watching her, he didn’t cover it up by glancing away. He just went on looking at her, studying her, until she pretended that something else had caught her attention.
Go on, go over and talk to him, she told herself.
But instead she went upstairs to make sure her grandmother wasn’t too agitated in the aftermath of her foray to the kitchen.
The food was being served buffet-style and by the time Marti returned almost everyone was eating. Only a few stragglers were going through the line and Noah was at the end of it.
Maybe now’s the time, she thought. After all, she could step up behind him, fill a plate and say hello—belatedly, but exactly as she had with everyone else tonight. Then maybe she could nonchalantly sit with him to eat and use small talk to get into her fact-finding mission to learn about him before she made her decision as to whether or not to admit the baby was his.
So why didn’t she budge?
Because she was a great big fat chicken!
Maybe he didn’t really want to know if the baby was his, she thought. After all, he hadn’t made a beeline to her to ask—he could have come to the house just to see her yesterday if he was dying to know, and even tonight he could have cornered her immediately after the ceremony.
Or maybe he was obtuse and it hadn’t even occurred to him that the baby might be his. Maybe he’d accepted the artificial insemination story at face value. Maybe she could just go on the way she’d planned even though their paths had crossed again…
Or maybe not. Because when he reached the end of the serving table he turned to look out over the room, spotted her and headed toward her.
Marti was inclined to run again. To make a dash for the stairs and take refuge in her grandmother’s room as if she hadn’t noticed Noah’s beautiful brown eyes locked onto her with single-minded intent.
But she didn’t run. She forced her feet to stay planted right where they were. She breathed deeply. She told herself to act as if nothing was going on. She even managed a small smile—although she cut that short when she felt her lips quiver nervously.
“I took enough for two,” he said when he reached her, motioning upward with his plate. “I thought maybe we could share.”
Then he leaned in and said for her ears only, “If we can share that night in Denver, we can share a plate, can’t we?”
Openly referring to that night sent a wave of panic through her. “I’m not very hungry—”
“Sit with me anyway,” he countered, not allowing her any out.
Oh, he’s suspicious, all right…
But this was something she needed to do and he’d just initiated the process for her. She knew she had to push through, so she conceded, nodding over her shoulder at the entryway behind them. “Want to sit on the steps?” she asked hesitantly.
“Sure.”
It was quieter in the entry, away from everyone else gathered in the living room. Marti went to the large staircase that rose to the upper level and sat on the second step, hugging the wall so Noah could sit, too, but not too closely.
He took the hint, positioning himself at an angle with his back to the newel post. Then he set the plate on the step between them and handed her one of the two forks and two napkins he’d brought.
“I took some of everything since I wasn’t sure what you might like,” he said then, stabbing a small parsleybuttered potato for himself.
As he ate, he looked at her again the way he had been all through the evening, as if he were cataloging what he remembered and what he didn’t.
Marti pretended to be more interested in the cherry tomato she was trying to skewer than in him.
“How are you today?” he asked.
“Fine,” she was quick to assure him. “That was just a little dizzy spell yesterday. I’d been sitting in the car for so long and it was low to the ground and I got up fast—” That was all more information than he needed and she cut herself off before it went any further and said, “Today I’m fine,” and popped the tomato into her mouth.
Noah continued to look at her for a moment after she’d stopped babbling. Then, in a completely conversational tone, he said, “So. Pregnant, huh?”
He was definitely suspicious.
“Mmm-hmm, pregnant,” she confirmed as if it were no big deal. But that was as far as she was willing to go and she volleyed with, “So. Northbridge, huh?”
His agile mouth twitched with a tiny smile at her deflection but she had the distinct impression that he was going to let her set the pace, that he wasn’t going to force the issue. And he didn’t. Instead he merely said, “Northbridge, yeah. Born and raised.”
“You didn’t tell me that in Denver, did you? Didn’t you just say that you were from a small town in southeast Montana?”
“I think so. I didn’t think you would know Northbridge by name. Would you have?”
Marti shook her head. “No. I’d never heard of it before Gram showed up here.”
Noah glanced in the direction of the bedrooms on the upper level. “You couldn’t get her to come down tonight?”
“She was hidden in the kitchen during the wedding itself but not even Ry could get her to do more than that—and if anyone can ever talk her into anything, it’s Ry. She keeps saying she can’t face anyone here, that she’s too ashamed, but we don’t know what that means.”
Noah nodded and ate a bite of ham, again leaving the ball in her court.
Marti knew that while talking about her grandmother might seem like a safe subject, it wasn’t getting her the information she needed. So she didn’t take it any further, seizing something she hoped might. “The reverend is your grandfather?”
“Yep,” Noah confirmed. “For better or worse.”
“Why for better or worse?”
“He’s a tough old bird—so tough that not even the family dare to call him anything but Reverend. He’s not the most understanding or compassionate or forgiving person in the world.”
Was there a message in that? Was he saying that he was more understanding, compassionate and forgiving than his grandfather? And what exactly did he think he had to be understanding or compassionate or forgiving of? Marti thought, feeling a tweak of her temper.
It wouldn’t do her any good to get angry, though, she told herself. So she didn’t pursue that either, and instead, as if she hadn’t seen his arrival for herself, she said, “Did you only bring your grandfather
