Jeannie Watt Page 17

  He didn’t move. She shook her head and turned back to the coffee machine, pouring in the water and flipping the switch. Her fingers had barely left the mechanism when she felt Matt move close behind her and every nerve in her body went on high alert. She clenched her teeth and turned in the small space. She met his eyes inquiringly, doing a pretty good job of faking disinterest. Pretty good. Not good enough.

  “Tara,” Matt murmured. His hands hovered for an indecisive moment near her face and then he gently brushed back the wisps of hair that had escaped from her braid while she slept. Her entire body seemed to respond to the feathery touch. “Sometimes you can let people do things for you. Sometimes people need to do things without recompense. Do you ever give without expecting to get something in return?”

  Tara opened her mouth, and then closed it again. Yeah. I offered myself the other night, no strings attached. You passed. “Of course,” she finally muttered.

  “It works two ways. Everybody needs to give now and then. Sometimes you should let them.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Tara said. “But in the meantime, I’m paying you and Luke.”

  “Just because someone gives you something, it doesn’t mean you owe them,” Matt snapped.

  “I don’t see you accepting a lot of help,” she replied. “And I know you’re dealing with something. Maybe I could help you.”

  Tara was saved from having to deal with his reply when the phone rang.

  Nicky didn’t even bother to say hello.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this balloon payment on the house?” he demanded so loudly, Tara was certain Matt could clearly hear him. Her heart stuttered at her brother’s uncharacteristically angry tone.

  “Nicky—”

  “The house is half mine, right? I have a right to know these things.” Her brother was steamed.

  “Yes, you do,” Tara agreed, rapidly preparing a knee-jerk defense of her reasonable actions. He was her little brother. He hadn’t even been legal when they inherited. Of course she had handled things. As for not telling him—

  “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I wanted you to concentrate on school, not finances. You don’t need to worry about this.” Tara walked into the parlor as she spoke, not wanting Matt to hear her argue with her brother.

  “That’s not the impression I got,” her brother barked.

  “Who gave you this impression?”

  “I applied for a bank loan to help with school and found out that I not only had half a house, I had half a huge debt. Do we have enough money to pay this?”

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  Nicky was silent for a moment and then said more calmly, “If we use Aunt Laura’s life insurance money for school, then you won’t be able to make this payment, will you? We might lose the house.”

  We. She wasn’t the only one who would lose. Nicky would lose, too. But at least he would have his education.

  “I’m working on refinancing.” Not very successfully, but she was working on it.

  There was another long silence before Nicky said in a tight un-Nickylike voice, “T, I’m not twelve years old anymore. You can stop trying to protect me from reality, you know. I don’t need protecting and, frankly, you’ve got to stop. It’s not healthy for either of us.”

  But she’d always been the boss, the protector. The one who kept Nicky safe.

  “Look, we’ll talk finances when I get back in a few days,” he said. “I need to know what’s going on. I need to be part of the decision-making process.”

  “All right,” Tara agreed in a low voice.

  “All right.” There was a pause and then he added, “I love you, T. I’ll see you in a few.”

  The line clicked dead and Tara stood for a moment holding the receiver before she returned to the kitchen and put it back in the cradle.

  “Is everything all right?”

  Tara turned to Matt. “Everything is fine.”

  A corner of his mouth tightened. “You don’t need any help with anything?” he asked ironically.

  Tara shook her head. “Nope.”

  “Good. Neither do I.”

  THE PROM-DRESS staging committee meeting was cancelled at the last minute because Dottie was under the weather, but Tara still had errands, so she drove into town and kept her luncheon date with Hailey in order to discuss the final stencil selection and supplies. She’d reluctantly made arrangements to pick Hailey up at the Hair Affaire after being assured it would be safe.

  “None of the dragons will be there.”

  Hailey had been wrong. Well, not completely wrong. Tara had always thought of Sandra Hernandez as a witch, more of a dragon associate, but she bit the bullet and smiled at the woman, who gritted her teeth and smiled back.

  “Very civilized,” Hailey whispered in Tara’s ear as she came up behind her. “Now, let’s go get one of those jumbo burger things before I starve to death.”

  A jumbo burger was just what Tara needed, even if she only managed to plow through half of it in the time it took Hailey to clean up her entire plastic basket. Hailey grinned unapologetically as she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Good metabolism,” she said. “Grandma says it will catch up with me.”

  “Doesn’t seem to have so far.”

  “I’ve gained weight,” Hailey confided. “But that’s a good thing. I lost a lot during the past few years.” She shrugged. “Stress does bad things to your body.”

  “I know,” Tara agreed after another bite.

  “Yeah, I guess so. If you’re interested, I think your stock is rising with the local ladies. The other day someone was trying to figure out what anyone had against you, other than your family.” Hailey grinned. “That’s when I found out that you used to be pretty handy with your fists.”

  “Not for a while,” Tara retorted dryly as she dragged a fry through the ketchup. “These people have long memories.”

  “What about Ryan?”

  Tara’s eyes flashed up in spite of herself. “What about him?”

  Hailey must’ve realized she had touched a nerve. She shrugged. “Rumor. Of course. Something about him filing a restraining order against you. Nobody knows the details.”

  “There’s a good reason for that,” Tara muttered. “I don’t talk about it. Don’t even like to think about it.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  And there was something in Hailey’s quiet tone that made Tara believe she did.

  “One bad experience shouldn’t ruin a person for life, but you know what?” Hailey’s mouth twisted ruefully. “No matter how many times I tell myself that, I’m still gun-shy. I like to date, but it will be a long, long time before I’m ready to commit again. Maybe never.” She reached for one of Tara’s fries. “I’ll have to wait and see.”

  “So you just…date? With no intention of it ever developing any further?” Hmm. That sounded mighty familiar.

  “I like company. I like fun. I’ll be a friend. But…”

  “But…?” Tara echoed. This was the closest she’d ever gotten to girl talk and it was good to get input from another female, especially when it was so close to her own way of thinking.

  “But, my stomach churns when I think of letting it go any further, emotionally, you know. I don’t think I will ever give anyone the power to hurt me again.”

  Tara leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, concerned. “He must have done a number, that ex of yours.”

  Hailey nodded. “Yeah. He did.” She reached for another fry and Tara pushed her basket closer, allowing Hailey easier access. “Maybe if I find someone rock solid…” Hailey’s voice trailed and Tara wanted to tell her that Rafe was rock solid. “Even then,” Hailey continued, “I don’t know.”

  Tara thought for a moment, and then she did something she normally didn’t do, since it gave a person the right to do the same to her. She asked a personal question. “What if you find yourself, you know, falling for some guy?”

  “I’
ll enjoy him. He’ll enjoy me. No commitment until I’m absolutely certain it will work. I’m not going to settle for anything less than absolute.” She spoke adamantly. “And since there are no absolutes in this world—” she gave Tara a pert look and dipped a fry “—I will probably grow old alone, but at least I’ll be in control of my own destiny.” She gestured with the last fry. “Does that seem so wrong?’

  Tara shook her head. It seemed a little lonely, yes. But wrong? In her way of thinking it was the safest way to go.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LYDIE HAD A BOX waiting for Tara when she dropped Hailey back at the salon.

  “This needs to go to the convention center. Do you think you could drop it on your way home? I was supposed to have it there by noon, but Mrs. Reynolds stopped by and…”

  “Sure,” Tara said, taking the box off the counter.

  “It’s decorations for the luncheon,” Lydie said as she patted the box. “Silk flowers and such. I do appreciate this.”

  “No problem.”

  And it wasn’t a problem, until Tara got to the convention center and found it locked.

  What now? She tried to peer through the darkened glass for a sign of life. Nothing. No lights, no movement. She’d have to take the box back to the salon. Tara had just loaded it into the passenger seat of her car when a familiar white Beemer drove into the lot.

  Well, Tara thought as she pulled the box back out again, delivering it to Stacia was better than returning it to the shop.

  “These decorations were supposed to be here by noon,” Stacia said as she unlocked the door. She held it open with her toe, indicating that Tara should carry the box inside. Tara debated dropping the box on the sidewalk and walking away, and then decided she was past that. She’d be nice, if for no other reason than because Stacia expected her not to be.

  “Something came up,” Tara said evenly. She set the box on the reception table and turned to leave. Then she stopped and turned back. “You know, Stacia, since it’s just you and me here, maybe it’s time for us to clear the air.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We never had any problems before. Why are we having them now?”

  “I guess it’s the fact that you won’t leave my fiancé alone.”

  Tara was genuinely taken aback. “I won’t what?”

  Stacia’s expression hardened. “Oh, don’t play innocent with me. Ryan told me.”

  Tara shook her head, trying to get rid of the twilight-zone feeling rapidly engulfing her. “Told you what?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Tara. He said you’d deny it.” Stacia took a few steps away, but Tara caught up with her.

  “What did Ryan tell you?” She was angry now and she ground the words out.

  “He told me that you’ve been harassing him and that I should let him handle it.”

  “When?”

  “What do you mean, when?”

  “I mean is he talking about after we dated a year ago, or is he talking about now?”

  “Now,” Stacia replied tightly. “Phone calls now.”

  Tara sucked in a breath. What was the bastard up to? “He’s lying.”

  Stacia’s chin went up. “He’s my fiancé. He wouldn’t lie to me. You, on the other hand, with your illustrious family history…”

  Tara snorted. What was this about? What could he possibly get out of lying about her? Unless…an awful thought occurred to her. A thought she wasn’t cruel enough to share—even with Stacia Logan. Not yet anyway. Like father, like son?

  “How am I harassing him?”

  “Like I said. Phone calls. Other things.” For a brief moment, Tara thought the woman was going to start crying. But instead she drew herself up and said, “Tara, look. Just stop doing it and we’ll all be better off. You’re lucky he hasn’t contacted the police.”

  He isn’t going to contact the police. He wouldn’t dare. But Stacia didn’t know that. Tara pressed her lips together. Then she abruptly turned and left the building.

  She got into her car and drove straight to Ryan’s office, located in one of the refurbished brick-front buildings on Main Street. There was an old-fashioned sign just inside the door, identifying the various occupants of the building. Ryan’s suite was on the ground floor. Tara didn’t even give herself time to consider what she was doing. She strode purposefully into the office, past the woman at the front desk and into the opulent back office where Boy Wonder was busily tapping away at his computer. The woman shouted, “Hey,” as she scrambled after Tara, but Ryan, after a quick, startled look, raised a hand.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “You can close the door when you leave.”

  “Leave it open,” Tara countered, suddenly realizing she didn’t want to be trapped alone with him. The associate looked torn, then reached out and grasped the doorknob, pulling the heavy wooden door shut as she backed out of the room, effectively enclosing Tara in Ryan’s lair.

  Ryan picked up a heavy gold mechanical pencil and idly twisted the mechanism. “What brings you here today, Tara? Have you finally come to your senses and decided to unload that white elephant?”

  “I do not appreciate being used.”

  Ryan’s eyebrows went up, the pencil went down. “Used?” He looked genuinely perplexed.

  “Used,” Tara repeated. “By a man—that’s you, although I use the term loosely—who’s lying to his fiancée.”

  Ryan’s lips curved, but she saw no humor in his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re raving about,” he said smoothly.

  “All right. I’ll spell it out,” Tara replied, making an effort to keep her voice even as Ryan rose and came around the desk. She knew he was trying to intimidate her, but he couldn’t hurt her with his associate so near, so she stood her ground until he leaned back against the front of his desk, prepared to listen with mockingly polite interest.

  But he was interested. Tara could see that. He was wondering what she thought she knew. And belatedly she also knew, from the way he was looking at her, that she had made a mistake.

  A monumental mistake.

  He could now say, with the associate as a witness, that Tara Sullivan had burst into his office, had harassed him yet again, thus adding credence to the lie he’d told Stacia. And who knew what else he would do, now that she’d given him ammunition? All she needed was a restraining order during the reunion.

  She had to get herself out of this. The best way to do that was to continue the full frontal assault.

  “I know you think you’re very clever, creeping around, trying to unnerve me, threatening my business in vague underhanded ways, but I am not going to put up with it. Stay away from me and stop using me as an excuse when your paramours call you at home!”

  “You are unbalanced,” Ryan replied matter-of-factly.

  Tara narrowed her eyes. “Someday, Ryan, this will all catch up with you. You’ve bullied and assaulted me, you’ve lied to Stacia. In fact,” she said as she yanked the door open, “I’ll bet you cheat on your taxes, too. Your associate will probably be called in to testify.” Tara nodded at the bewildered woman. “You’d better get your stories straight.”

  The last thing Tara heard was the associate asking Mr. Somers if he wanted her to contact the authorities. She was through the outer door before Ryan answered.

  TARA FELT LIKE beating her head on the steering wheel.

  Why did her stupid moments always involve Ryan?

  She started the car and backed out of the parking lot, before the associate did call the authorities. She pulled the Camry out onto the street and headed home, occasionally checking her mirror for Rafe’s rig. It would really tick him off if he had to arrest her for trespassing.

  And as much as she was concerned about herself at the moment, she was also worried about Stacia. It was possible Ryan might not be happy about his fiancée’s conversation with Tara and Tara knew from firsthand experience how charming Ryan could turn ugly when confronted or thwarted. There was a big difference between her and Stacia, though. Sta
cia had a lot of money. He wouldn’t do anything to upset the golden goose. Anything direct, that is.

  A girlfriend on the side…well, that did seem rather direct, but Ryan probably thought it was normal. It was, after all, a Somers tradition. Martin was infamous for his indiscretions and Ryan was just arrogant enough to believe he could do the same and not be caught. If he could have kept his girlfriend from calling his home.

  Of course, as much as she liked the theory, there were other explanations. The person calling his home could be an old girlfriend, someone who didn’t want to let go. Or, more realistically from Tara’s point of view, an ex with a grudge. Or maybe just some kind of a phone stalker.

  Tara let out a sigh. She favored the first theory, but for Stacia’s sake, she honestly hoped it was the second or third.

  Tara made it home without the reds and blues showing up in her mirror, but she was dreading her shift at the bar that night. Soon the entire community would be aware that she had burst in on her former lover like some kind of a nut. Ryan would make certain they knew it, so that he could put his own spin on it. Tara Sullivan was harassing him again.

  Matt was off picking up a final load of supplies to finish the bathrooms, and since Tara had a little time on her hands before she had to leave for her fun-packed evening, she sat at the computer and did what she always did when she had a few free moments. She opened a search engine, punched in the words “balloon payment refinance” and scrolled through the sites she’d already tried. She was on the third page, ready to click on the fourth, when an entry near the bottom caught her eye. Balloon payment…predatory lending practices…elderly.

  Tara went to the site and began to read, her blood pressure rising steadily. The scenario perfectly fit what had happened to her aunt. Older people scammed into taking out low interest renovation loans with huge balloon payments they would be unable to make and then losing their homes. Aunt Laura had been taken in big-time.

  The only way Laura’s balloon could have been paid was through her life insurance, and Tara was pretty certain Aunt Laura had not intended to die to pay off her home. The bank manager had most probably assured her that the balloon would be refinanced, and up until refinancing time, she could take advantage of a very attractive interest rate. And then, according to the article, there would be no refinancing, the house would end up on the market and the predator could pick it up. Cheap.