Jeannie Watt Page 13

No, he knew exactly what would have happened. He just wondered what Tara’s reaction would have been. All thoughts of caution and keeping his distance seemed to evaporate whenever he was around the woman. And, dangerously, Tara seemed to be of a like mind. Just what did she want out of this…connection, he guessed he’d call it? A flirtation? Something casual and friendly? Something physical? Heaven forbid…something serious?

  Would she pursue it? And if she did, would he?

  He was a guy with little willpower where she was concerned, but he couldn’t give Tara the time and attention she deserved and he wouldn’t risk hurting her.

  He headed downstairs to the coffee, planning to make a list of what needed to be done to get the top floor in some kind of shape. He didn’t have much time; he might even have to hire day labor, at his own expense if Luke and Tara would allow it, because he wanted to do this for her.

  The women were in Tara’s room, a room Matt had not seen outside of his fantasies since the night she had been ill. He walked into the kitchen and saw his mug sitting next to the carafe, as it was almost every morning when he arrived.

  Man, he would miss this coffee, he thought as he took the first slow sip. Tara had explained during their conversation the other night that she ordered the beans from San Francisco, buying only small quantities and having them shipped express so that they’d always be fresh. It was her one indulgence.

  Tara needed more indulgences, Matt thought. As near as he could see, she put all of her energy into her house, her future business, her brother’s education, and not a whole lot into Tara.

  “I have got to see this in the light,” Hailey said as she carried a large box into the kitchen. She set the box on the table and gently lifted the bodice of a dress out of the folds of tissue. It shimmered like mother-of-pearl and Hailey let out a murmur of appreciation.

  Matt didn’t know much about dresses, but he knew that this one was something special, all pale silvery gray with thousands of tiny pearls on it.

  “Did you wear that dress?” he asked, trying to imagine Tara in something besides jeans.

  She nodded, looking so instantly defensive that he had to fight to keep from smiling.

  “She was a prom queen,” Hailey announced as she eased the dress back into the tissue. “She’s letting us use the dress for our fashion show.”

  “You were a prom queen?” He hadn’t meant to sound incredulous, but a prom queen? It just didn’t jibe with everything else he knew about her.

  “Don’t rub it in,” the prom queen muttered, her gaze lowered as she helped Hailey arrange the folds of tissue over the beaded fabric.

  Matt’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do you have the tiara to prove this allegation?”

  “Shut up, Matt,” Tara replied, handing the lid to Hailey, who eased it over the bottom half of the box. When she finally gave him a sideways look, he couldn’t keep from grinning. Her jaw first tightened and then it relaxed as she let out a huff of breath.

  “My aunt wanted me to go to the prom, so I went. And I came home with a tiara. It was the thrill of a lifetime.”

  Hailey laughed, missing the irony in Tara’s tone. “My prom stunk,” she said easily as she hefted the box, holding it in front of her with both hands. “Literally. Somebody threw up on the dance floor and none of the chaperones wanted to deal with it.” Hailey’s nose wrinkled at the memory and she shook her head. “I’ll take good care of this,” she said, nodding at the box. “I promise.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Tara replied. “What happens, happens. How many dresses do you have right now?”

  “There were almost forty under consideration and from those the ladies chose the fifteen they are going to use, including Dottie’s—which is a real scream by the way, but don’t you dare tell her I said so.” Tara held the door open as Hailey maneuvered the box through.

  “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  Hailey left with a wave and the bang of the screen door, leaving Tara and Matt alone in the kitchen.

  “Prom queen, eh?”

  “It was a joke, Matt. I was the butt of a joke.”

  “What kind of joke?”

  She leaned back against the counter, and he could see that she was debating telling him. Finally she relented.

  “After my dad went to prison, I was a tad defensive. I didn’t play well with others, so others did not play well with me. But—” she shrugged “—being a kid, I didn’t see the connection. In fact,” she added wryly, “I’m just starting to get a handle on it now. Back then, I had two friends—Jack and Rafe.”

  Tara shook her head ruefully before she admitted, “I wanted to belong and I wasn’t quite sure how to do that. I pretty much had an adversarial relationship with everyone.

  She drummed her fingers against the ceramic tile of the counter. “When I was nominated for prom queen, I was at my defensive worst. Kids poked at me. I poked back.” She smiled. “And I mean that literally in some cases.”

  Matt could just imagine.

  “I knew the nomination was a joke—it had to be—but secretly I was hoping that maybe it wasn’t. That maybe it would be a chance to put the past behind me…”

  Tara fell silent for a moment, then glanced at Matt. “It didn’t work out that way. First of all, my date didn’t show. He was one of the jocks. A real catch. I’d been stunned when he’d asked me and then figured it was because of the queen nomination. I finally pretended that he’d called with car trouble so I could borrow Aunt Laura’s car and drive myself. I could have just driven out in the country and hid for a while, but my pride wouldn’t let me. I hated the idea of those jerks setting me up and laughing at me, so I made an appearance…to show them I was tougher than they thought. Unfortunately, I underestimated my opponents.”

  She absently twisted her ring. “I was elected queen, and crowned, but since my date hadn’t shown, I had to dance the opening waltz with the principal, Mr. Gates. Talk about humiliation.” She shuddered. “And then…let’s see…during the opening waltz slide-and-light show, a shot of my father in handcuffs came up, but the chaperones took care of that pretty quickly. And then my date finally showed, an hour late, with another girl.” Sandra Hernandez to be exact. “He seemed surprised to see me there, but he ambled up and said hello.”

  “Did they have to call an ambulance for him?”

  Tara smiled, shook her head. “I drove myself home after that, and had a rather suspicious flat tire, which I changed in my slip so as not to ruin Aunt Laura’s dress. And that was my prom.” She tilted her head, an ironic gleam in her eye. “I did learn one lesson from that night.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, for years I’d felt like I had to defend the Sullivan honor, which is laughable because the Sullivans had no honor. After the prom, I figured it out. But, I still had no idea how to fix what was broken. I’d burned bridges, and Sullivan public sentiment had never been high. I didn’t have a lot of, shall we say, social skills, so I simply had to live with the situation. A few months later, I graduated and I left, taking Nicky with me.”

  “And now you’re back. Why?”

  He caught her off guard and she said simply, “I love this place, the house, the land. It was my sanctuary when I was younger. My heart feels whole when I’m here.” Her words rang with quiet certainty. “Now all I have to do is hang on to the place.”

  “How so?”

  Tara hesitated. She’d already said too much…so why stop now? “Well, that’s a story in itself. The house was pretty run-down when Nicky and I were here. Aunt Laura usually had someone come in and put a Band-Aid on urgent problems, only to have them crop up again later. About the time I got hired to teach in Elko, she took out a renovation loan. She was going to put things right once and for all.” Tara shook her head. “Little did I realize how right she’d planned on making them.”

  She paused to gather her thoughts, her emotions. “The loan was huge, although I didn’t know that at the time. Aunt Laura had the foundation and the roof
fixed first and that ate up a lot of the money, and then she started on the kitchen. After she passed away, I made some amazing discoveries. The size of the loan, the fact that there was a balloon payment…about two thirds of the money was spent.”

  Tara tilted her head and the braid slid over her shoulder. Matt reached out and wrapped his fingers around the thick plait, holding it for a moment like a lifeline before letting it slide through his grip. Tara let out a small sigh as he released it.

  “There was too much invested to stop the renovation, so I continued, with the idea that I’d make the place a bed-and-breakfast and then it could help pay for itself.” She shrugged. “And here we are. All I have to do to live happily ever after is get my house up and running, behave myself and overcome old prejudices. But—” her eyes widened as she spoke “—not as many prejudices as before. Nicky gave me some pointers. I’ve made some headway.”

  “Yeah. I’ve heard,” Matt replied.

  She smiled widely, taking no offense. “I’ll just bet you have. You haven’t been ostracized for helping me, have you?”

  “No,” Matt replied, “but I get odd looks.”

  Tara laughed. Matt loved the sound. Light. Melodic. A totally different Tara was appearing before his eyes. And he liked her.

  MATT LEFT FOR ELKO right after lunch to pick up the wallboard and a couple dozen other items necessary to begin repairs on the top floor. Tara worked on the second floor while he was gone, painting the closet doors and thinking that the house felt empty without him. She actually felt close to Matt, or as close as she’d allow herself to feel toward another person.

  Experience the man. You can trust him not to hurt you. Let yourself have a decent fling. Get Ryan out of your system once and for all. It looks like he’s willing….

  It was starting to make perfect sense, especially after this morning. She didn’t want a serious relationship. That led to heartache. But she would like physical intimacy without brutal overtones, to have a lover who could also be a friend and just a friend. Matt seemed like a man who would understand that, help her without hurting her. In fact, he was the perfect man to do that because she trusted him and he’d be leaving soon.

  Tara dipped the brush again and started applying paint to the last closet door in the last bedroom, when she heard the crunch of tires on gravel. She moved to the windows facing the road, her heart beating faster as she looked out to see if Matt was back. He wasn’t. A white BMW was rolling up the drive and Tara’s heart rate quickened even more. Speak of the devil… She did not want to deal with Ryan. She felt as if she should post a sign on the lawn: Attention Vultures—This House Is Not For Sale.

  But as the car pulled closer, she saw that Stacia was driving and Sandra Hernandez was beside her.

  Great. Tara put her brush down and started for the stairs. What was this about? An actual visit instead of a phone call. Tara had a bad feeling.

  The women walked briskly across the yard, their gazes sharp and analytical as they took in every facet of their surroundings. Tara pushed the screen door open and forced a smile.

  “You have a beautiful yard,” Sandra commented in her parakeet chirp, as the two women came to a stop near the bottom step.

  “Thank you,” Tara said. “My aunt was very proud of it.”

  “I’m sure she was,” Stacia interjected coolly before her minion could chirp again.

  “Can I help you ladies with something?” Tara asked, hoping that perhaps they were there for some benign reason—the prom-dress parade, a volunteer list, collecting for charity…

  “I received a call this morning about your establishment,” Stacia replied, giving Tara a look that told her exactly what she thought of Tara’s establishment. “There is some question about whether you’re actually going to be able to deliver what you’ve promised in the brochure.”

  Silence.

  “I see,” Tara finally replied in a remarkably even voice, considering that a small flame of anger had just ignited inside her. “Who called? Your future father-in-law?”

  “It doesn’t matter who called,” Stacia said in a tone that made Tara believe she’d hit the nail square on the proverbial head. “What matters is that my company is being paid to run this reunion, and I am not going to be embarrassed by someone unable to follow through with commitments.”

  Tara shook her head. She was too busy to deal with this nonsense. “The rooms will be done.”

  “I want to see them.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I want to see your rooms. I want to be sure my company won’t be embarrassed.”

  Tara shook her head. “I’m not giving a tour today.” She was not going to be ordered around by Stacia Logan and she was not going to give the woman any ammunition by letting her see half a dozen half-completed bedrooms.

  “Tara—”

  “The brochure is out, my house is in it and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Tara paused and then in the name of professionalism, softened the blow. “My rooms will be ready, Stacia. You and your company will not be embarrassed. Now, I really do need to get back to work, so if there’s nothing else…”

  She waited until it gradually dawned on the two women that they were dismissed.

  “No. There’s nothing else,” Stacia said with icy politeness and turned on her heel. Sandra followed, casting Tara a frown over her shoulder as she went, twisting her neck so far that Tara was surprised she didn’t trip and fall. A few seconds later, two German-made doors slammed shut. Tara grimaced at the noise as she turned toward her front door. BMW or not, that couldn’t be good for the hinges.

  THE NEWS CAME by e-mail, not an hour later. Tara clicked on the icon, hoping for another reservation, and instead received a cyber heart attack. Mr. Nate Bidart of Bidart Industries regretted to inform her that he was withdrawing his reservation. The rest of the words, having to do with deposits and early cancellation, blurred.

  She hadn’t even seen it coming. Tara had been convinced Stacia had just come out to harass her. She didn’t doubt for one moment that she received a call, but as she had said, she’d assumed it had come from Martin Somers, since it was the exact same sentiment he’d expressed during the business association meeting.

  Tara reached for the phone and dialed the contact number. She identified herself and to her relief was almost immediately connected to the associate who had sent the e-mail. She forced an upbeat professional voice.

  “Hi, this is Tara Sullivan. I’m calling about the cancellation for the Night Sky High School reunion.”

  “Oh, yes. I am sorry about that, but we had hoped that by cancelling early enough, it would give you time to fill your rooms.”

  “That’s very considerate of you,” Tara enunciated. “I was wondering, for my own information, why you cancelled?”

  The woman hesitated. “To tell you the truth, I’m not privy to that information. Mr. Bidart is in Night Sky right now, and he called earlier in the day.”

  It took Tara a moment to find her voice and it took another moment to find words that were not comprised of four letters. This was a low blow.

  “He’s not staying at the Somers Inn by any chance?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

  “I understand,” Tara said truthfully. “But—” she paused, bit her lip and then went for broke “—if you happen to be in contact with Mr. Bidart, would you ask him to please contact me? I think there has been a miscommunication. I’d like to clear it up—for possible future functions.” Plus the one that was stolen right out from under her nose.

  “I will do what I can,” the associate replied in a no-promises tone.

  “I appreciate it very much. Thank you.” When Tara finally hung up the phone, she walked straight to the kitchen, straight to the fridge.

  She needed a drink. Maybe two. And since she had no wine in the house, she settled for the closest thing she had—Luke’s supply of Bud Light.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MATT’S FOOTSTEPS echoed as he let himself
in the front door of Tara’s house. He stopped and listened. No radio playing upstairs. No singing. No humming. Just the sound of a bottle cap bouncing on a hard surface. He followed the noise into the kitchen.

  Tara was leaning against the counter, beer in her hand. As Matt came into the room, Tara lifted the bottle in silent greeting, making no effort to put on a game face.

  “Bad day?” Matt asked.

  A corner of her mouth tightened as she slowly nodded her head.

  “Anything major?”

  “Pretty much.” She gave him a brief description of what had transpired that afternoon, throwing in several colorful adjectives to describe the future Mrs. Ryan Somers and that lady’s future father-in-law as well.

  “They keep whittling away at me, Matt, and it gets kind of exhausting after a while.”

  She shook her head, then lifted the bottle to her lips and took a sip. Matt could see by her expression that she wasn’t a beer drinker. Well, he was.

  “You want me to finish that for you?”

  “No. I think I need it.” She gestured to the fridge. “Feel free. I’m sure Luke won’t mind. I’ll just replace it before he starts on the gardens.”

  Matt pulled another out of the fridge, popped the top and came to lean against the counter next to Tara. Their shoulders touched. He liked the sensation.

  “You know,” she said, gesturing with the bottle, “sometimes I wonder why I keep plugging away.”

  “Why do you?” Matt asked conversationally.

  She turned her head toward him, her eyebrows raised. “Like I told you. I love this place. Besides, I don’t appreciate being pushed around.”

  He could understand that. She gave him a half smile over the top of her beer bottle and Matt felt an almost instantaneous response as he watched the slow curve of her lips. He was tempted to lean forward and touch her beautiful mouth with his own.

  “Ryan wants me to run scared and I won’t.”

  “It takes an awful lot of effort to fight those two,” Matt pointed out.