This, Matthew thought as he looked around the huge house nestled in the middle of one of the metroplex's most prestigious neighborhood, was not what he'd expected.
He knew that Hannah's stepfather was a prominent attorney-turned-businessman--much like the role Matthew was playing--but considering that Hannah had told him on the drive about how her mother had scraped together pennies to get an education and raise Hannah, he'd expected a much more modest home.
This place was a mansion. A huge mansion. On a massive yard. A multimillion-dollar oasis in the middle of urban sprawl. He'd been uncertain about stopping at the mall for new clothes. Now he was relieved they had. He had a feeling he was going to fit in better with the blue blazer, khaki slacks, and pale gray knit shirt he now wore.
"You ready?" Hannah asked as she steered the car in front of a valet, then shifted into park.
"I hope so," he said. He wanted to ask her what kind of mother denied her daughter life insurance proceeds when she obviously didn't need the money, but why ask rhetorical questions?
He hated the fact that Hannah had to come crawling back, but seeing the house made him all the more determined to play his role perfectly. Whatever it took, Hannah should have her money.
"The reception is on the back patio, through the main hall," the valet told her.
"Thanks, I know. This is my mother's house. Could you ask Clarence to see about the bags in the trunk? We're staying overnight."
"Of course. And welcome home."
He saw her smirk, but she didn't comment. He knew she didn't consider this luxurious property her home, so he said nothing either. Not about that. He did ask who Clarence was.
"The butler," she said. "A nice guy, though I don't know him well. Obviously all of this--" She waved to encompass the entire property, "--came after I'd moved away from Mom."
"Butler," he said. "I didn't realize when I said I'd come with you that we'd be dining at a castle."
"Yeah, well, I like to plan spectacular first dates." She flashed him a teasing grin, but his mind was locked on that one word--date. This wasn't a date, and he needed to
remember that. But the truth was, he liked Hannah, and if he wasn't careful, he might find himself in too deep. Because he knew damn well that this wasn't about them. This was about her work. Her ambition. And he really wasn't a part of that.
They crossed a granite plaza that led to the front door--a huge glass and iron entryway that stood wide open at the moment, giving them a view of the marble-floored entrance hall that was lined with various cocktail stations. One for martinis, one for wine, one for Scotch and whiskey. He noticed a few of Selma's labels on the whiskey table and resisted the urge to pull out his cell phone and take a picture.
"Wow. This is..."
"Ostentatious?" she supplied. "Yeah, Ernest isn't one for subtle. But the nice thing is that it's easier to blend in. If we were just coming to meet the parents, you'd be on stage every second."
She made a good point.
"Hungry?"
"I could eat." If nothing else, it would give him time to get settled. After his early years of nomadic poverty, he'd grown up comfortably in a well-to-do Austin neighborhood. But the Herrington family home was a pup tent compared to this place.
"Then come on. If history is any indication, Mom catered every food imaginable. Personally, I'm a hot dog and barbecue kind of girl. And even though she always has tons of frou-frou food, she never skimps on the brisket and link sausages."
"Lead the way," he said, startled when she slid her hand into his. His surprise must have shown, because she offered him a sweet smile. "We're engaged, right?"
He nodded, hoping he looked casual. But the truth was that her fingers twined with his felt a little too good. Too right.
Which was ridiculous, because if he was thinking along those lines, he was all wrong.
They'd just stepped from the ornate entrance hall through the open French doors and onto the flagstone patio when a slender woman in her late fifties hurried up to them. She wore a white gown, and her hair--the same color as Hannah's--was piled on her head and partially concealed under her veil.
And her smile when she saw her daughter rivaled the sun.
"The blushing bride," Hannah said, then turned to Matthew. "I forgot to tell you. Mom and Ernest repeat their vows to each other every year. They do that in private, but then this party is essentially a wedding reception. And we're here to celebrate the bride and the groom."
"That's lovely," he said, meaning it. He wasn't sure he'd want an annual party, but a private vow renewal on a wedding anniversary was the kind of tradition he could get behind.
"Maybe the two of you can adopt our tradition," Hannah's mother said before turning to her daughter. "Sugar, I'm so glad you're here."
She pulled Hannah into a monster of a hug, her affection for her daughter so obvious it shocked Matthew. Considering the money she was withholding, he'd been expecting a cold, calculating woman. And now he had to hold in his surprise as he watched Hannah return her mom's embrace with obvious enthusiasm.