think Marvin might have gone to—”
McPhee held up a hand to halt her explanations. “Please, I can’t take any more of this. You’ve thrown my whole universe off balance.”
“Good,” she said with a smile. “You need that, sometimes.”
JOHN-MICHAEL LEANED BACK against the limo’s buttery leather seat, stunned to the core. He’d known Sonya was harboring a secret. He’d tried to put it together a couple of weeks ago, when she’d taken a quick weekend trip to Dallas to help Brenna prepare for a jewelry show. He’d discovered then that she had another new friend, Cindy, from Cottonwood, Texas, and the three of them had behaved the way closely bonded, longtime friends act. He knew there was a story there, but he’d been at a loss. He hadn’t gotten many facts out of Heath Packer, either. The FBI agent had been friendly to John-Michael, and his personal interest in Brenna had been apparent, but he’d volunteered little information as to the nature of the friendship among the three women. By the time John-Michael and Sonya had returned to Houston, he’d been no wiser.
His theory had been that Sonya had a lover. That would have been shocking enough. But to find out she’d been living a clandestine life hunting down a criminal blew him away. He could hardly wrap his mind around it.
Sonya, pensive now after her long, convoluted explanation, took another sip of her latte, leaving a slight whipped-cream mustache. She licked it off.
Not now, John-Michael thought disgustedly. Now was not the time for his sporadic lust for Sonya Patterson to rear its ugly head. He’d been dealing with it for years, and usually all it took was a sharp reminder of exactly who Sonya was—a spoiled, useless little rich girl with nothing more important on her mind than her next manicure appointment—to cool his desire. Physically she might be a pure turn-on, but he’d long ago learned to look beyond a woman’s body to the substance of her. Pretty girls were a dime a dozen, and he had no trouble attracting them. But finding one who was pretty and intelligent and interesting—that’s what it took to capture John-Michael’s libido for more than thirty seconds.
Sonya had become suddenly interesting, damn it. Perhaps she had a lot more behind that cool demeanor than she let on. She did have a degree in chemical engineering from Rice University, and graduating from that school was no cakewalk. But frankly, he’d assumed Sonya’s family wealth had bought the degree. Her mother had donated buckets of money to her father’s alma mater. And he’d never seen Sonya study much while she was in college.
This was a helluva time for him to start thinking of her as more than arm candy. He had a future planned, a life apart from the Pattersons. He’d actually been looking forward to moving on. Now, suddenly, he wasn’t so sure.
He forced himself to think about freezing cold waterfalls and cornmeal mush until his jeans were no longer quite so tight. Then he returned to the matter at hand.
“When are you going to tell Muffy?”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “I’m not. Are you kidding? The news would kill her! Dr. Cason said we had to keep her smiling and laughing.”
“You’ll have to tell her at some point. I mean, let’s face it, the groom isn’t going to show up for this wedding.”
Sonya started to chew on one of her nails, then quickly stopped herself. She used to bite her nails as a child, he remembered. It was only when she’d discovered acrylic-sculptured nails that she’d been able to stop.
“I’ll tell her when she’s stronger,” Sonya said. “But not now, not yet. She’s not even out of the hospital. And you can’t tell her, either,” she said, suddenly fierce. “You can’t tell anyone. No one is to know that this wedding isn’t going to take place.”
“Don’t you think people are going to get a little suspicious when they never see the groom-to-be? Isn’t his absence going to be noted?”
“I’ve already told people he travels on business a lot. And he supposedly lives in Boston. Anyway, most men are weddingphobic. They won’t come near the preparations. No one will think it’s odd in the least, believe me.”
“But…you can’t just let your mother keep throwing money at a wedding that won’t ever happen,” John-Michael objected. “Doesn’t it strike you as a bit cruel to lie to her, to keep up the pretense? The farther along you get with this thing, the harder it’s going to be when you have to call it off.”
Damned right it would be hard. And he wasn’t helping. But Muffy could stand to throw away a few bucks a lot more easily than her heart could stand an emotional shock. And somehow Sonya would figure out a way to pay her back. “As soon as her doctor says she’s well enough to handle gruesomely unpleasant news, I’ll tell her. But not before. McPhee, promise me. Not a word.”
“All right, I promise.” What choice did he have? He wasn’t going to be responsible for causing Muffy a second heart attack. But his instincts warned him that the longer they maintained the lie, the messier it was going to get, for all parties concerned.
Chapter Three
It was December, almost a month after Muffy’s heart attack, that she finally came home. Then the real fun began.
Sonya, still feeling guilty for having been away from home and out of touch when Muffy was stricken ill, appointed herself sole guardian of Muffy’s health. That meant learning all of the doctor’s instructions and seeing that they were followed to the letter.
It also meant limiting her mother’s social calendar. Dr. Cason had emphasized that social visits, while pleasant, were tiring. Some activity was desirable, but getting enough rest, so the heart could heal, was essential.
Tootsie proved to be Sonya’s first big challenge. She showed up less than an hour after Muffy’s homecoming.
“She has to rest,” Sonya said, standing squarely in the front doorway, refusing to even allow Tootsie in the house. Tootsie had come to the hospital almost every day, staying hour after hour, gossiping endlessly until the nurses threw her out. Once she got inside the house, there would be no getting rid of her. “And you may not give her those chocolates. Tootsie, what’s the matter with you? She’s had a heart attack! She’s on a restricted diet.”
Tootsie rolled her eyes. “There will be plenty of time for all that dreary cardiac rehab stuff when Muffy’s feeling better,” said Tootsie, herself thin and straight as a fencepost. She’d likely never had to worry about extra pounds and the resulting health concerns. “I went through this with my husband. Now don’t be a brat.” She smiled insincerely. “I won’t stay long.”
Tootsie’s husband had died after his third heart attack. It was tacky to hold Tootsie responsible, but she certainly couldn’t be held up as an expert in cardiac aftercare.
Sonya threw her arm across the doorway. “I’m sorry, Tootsie, but I’m going to have to insist…” Her words trailed off as she realized Tootsie wasn’t listening. She was looking over Sonya’s shoulder and smiling like a cunning cat with a canary on its mind.
Sonya knew who was behind her without looking. Tootsie had always enjoyed ogling John-Michael, not that Sonya could blame her for that.
“Why, John-Michael,” Tootsie purred, “aren’t you looking…fine today. Would you tell your little charge here to let me inside? Muffy will think her best friend has abandoned her if I don’t visit her every single day.”
Sonya gritted her teeth at being referred to as McPhee’s “little charge.”
McPhee put his hand around Sonya’s arm and gently moved it, allowing Tootsie inside. “Mrs. Patterson is with her physical therapist right now, and she asked that she not be disturbed. If you’d care to wait, she’ll be done in a couple of hours.”
Tootsie consulted her diamond Piaget watch. “Oh, I can’t wait. I have an appointment to get the Caddy serviced. I’ll come back later. Would you see that Muffy gets these?”