Читать книгу A Difficult Woman - Jeannie Watt - Страница 11

IT WAS FUNNY HOW wallpapering always seemed like such a good idea until she was actually doing it—and hanging paper in an old house that had spent almost a century settling only added to the fun. At least she knew enough now, after that first horrendous experience in her own bathroom, to avoid stripes.

Tara soaked and folded the first strip of vintage rose paper into a book, then hung the plumb bob and drew her reference line. Classic rock played on the radio and she hummed under her breath as she positioned her stepladder and tackled the first strip, applying it to the wall, then smoothing it from the top down to the newly stained and varnished wainscoting.

“One down,” she murmured as she stood back to view the colors.

“How many to go?”

Tara jumped at the unexpected voice.

“How long have you been there?” she demanded. She shouldn’t have left the front door propped open, but she’d never had trouble with vermin before.

“You really do need to work on your manners, Tara.”

“Speaking of which, you should knock before you slither into someone’s house.”

Ryan tilted his blond head back, looking down his nose at her, his perfect lips curved into a perfect smile. Perfectly nasty, that is. Tara gave him her best smirk in return. It made her shudder to think how she’d once been taken in by this guy. Used and discarded. And the kicker was that most of the populace of Night Sky still bought into Ryan’s charismatic golden boy facade. They assumed that any trouble between her and Ryan had to be her fault. She was a Sullivan, he was a Somers.

But Tara wouldn’t let him upset her, because that was exactly what he wanted to do.

“Filed any restraining orders lately, Ryan?”

That hit the mark. His eyes narrowed, but his voice was smooth as he said, “Again, that manners thing, Tara.”

“Why are you here?”

“Why do you think?”

“To harass me?” Tara suggested, her eyebrows going up.

Ryan regarded her for a long moment. “Now why,” he finally asked in a much too quiet voice, “would I want to harass you? What possible reason could I have?”

He moved another step closer, so that he was only inches away—so close that Tara could feel the warmth from his body, smell his expensive aftershave. And suddenly it was all she could do to hold her ground. Memories, sharp and painful, flooded her.

She hadn’t expected the reaction and it threw her, but she fought to pull herself back together. Ryan had no idea how traumatic their physical encounter had been to her. He was so egotistical that he’d actually thought that she’d want to do it again.

Through sheer willpower, Tara forced herself to look Ryan in the eye. And then she noted with some satisfaction that she had left a pretty good bump on his once classic nose.

“Oh, yeah. That’s right,” Ryan said sarcastically. “I remember now. Your lies. My job.”

“I had nothing to do with you losing your job,” she said bluntly. And it was true. She’d had nothing to do with his being fired from his cushy job with the accounting firm in Elko, where he’d hoped to become a partner. Jack had. But Ryan didn’t know that and she wasn’t going to tell him.

“You’re a liar, Tara.”

Tara simply shifted her weight as she waited to see what was coming next. She didn’t have to wait long.

“Actually I’m here because of the crass attempts you’ve been making to embarrass my father in public.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I think you remember raving in the bank about my father trying to steal your house.”

She didn’t remember using the word steal, but in Night Sky, embellishment was the rule rather than the exception.

“Ryan, surely you have better things to do than chase rumors.”

“Tara,” he murmured, “if you keep doing things like that—if you embarrass my father or falsely accuse him, especially at this reunion—you’ll be very sorry.”

Tara studied Ryan as if he were a nasty insect. “I can’t wait to see what you try to do to me that you haven’t already done.”

“I haven’t taken your house.”

“And you won’t,” Tara responded with a grimly confident smile.

“I will if you don’t come up with a hell of a lot of cash, and it won’t be stealing. I’ll take it just to torch the place, if nothing else.”

“Will you be using Daddy’s money?” Tara asked. “Or Stacia’s?” She smirked. “Congratulations, by the way. Helluva catch.”

Ryan acknowledged her touché with a slight sneer, which turned into a rather nasty smile as he raised his hand to her face.

“Touch me even once and you will be a sorry man.”

His perfect lips curved even as his hand stopped in midair.

“You know Tara, you really…challenge a man.”

It was both a threat and a reference to their past.

“I’m sure Stacia would love to know I still challenge you,” Tara replied with mock sweetness. “Now, kindly get out of my house and off my property.”

She spoke the words matter-of-factly, hoping against hope that Ryan wasn’t aware his presence unnerved her, that her heart was beating harder than it should be.

“And while you’re at it, tell your father to mind his own business. He isn’t getting my house and he isn’t going to stop me from opening my business.”

Ryan merely shook his head and moved even closer, his smile fading. It was the first indication Tara had that he might honestly be a threat. Her body tensed, instinctively preparing for defense, when the side porch door scraped open and they heard booted footsteps in the kitchen.

Ryan’s head swung around and, from his startled expression, Tara knew he’d been aware her brother wasn’t here. He hadn’t expected anyone—had probably thought Matt’s old truck was her own.

And that frightened her.

“Do you need something, Connors?” Tara called as the footsteps continued down the hall toward the parlor. Matt appeared in the doorway a second later, frowning when he saw that Tara was not alone.

Ryan was already several feet away from her. He smiled as Matt entered the room, wearing his charm like an exoskeleton. Tara blinked at the change. Incredible. Who’d believe her side of things when confronted with…this? Ryan extended a hand.

“Hi. Ryan Somers.”

Matt dusted his own hand on his jeans and accepted the handshake with a nod, his expression unreadable. “Matt Connors.”

Ryan waited, but when no further information came, he glanced at Tara with a this-isn’t-over look in his eye. “I won’t keep you any longer,” he said congenially. “Stacia will be in touch.”

“Yeah,” Tara replied softly. “I can’t wait.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ryan said as he walked past Matt.

Matt followed Ryan with his eyes until the man was through the front door.

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

He gave her an impatient look. “I’m not stupid, Tara. Something happened.”

Tara shrugged. She picked up her wallpaper brush and idly ran her thumb over the bristles. “Did you need something?”

“No. I just came in to remeasure a frame.” His mouth tightened as he studied her carefully composed expression.

Tara dropped her gaze. She wished he’d go back to work so she could have her breakdown alone. It was the first time she’d been alone with Ryan since…she couldn’t think about it now.

“Is there anyone in this town you don’t have some kind of a problem with?” Matt muttered as he turned to leave.

“No.” She’d snapped the word. Tara drew in a sharp breath and made an effort to bring her voice back to a more even tone, “Now, would you do me a favor and let me get back to work?”

To her relief, he gave her one last look and then walked out of the room and down the hall, the sound of his footsteps fading as he passed through the kitchen and back out onto the side porch.

She walked to the window and watched Ryan’s BMW roll down the driveway and turn onto the main road. She hugged her arms across her middle and found that she was shaking. And, worse than that, she was close to tears.

Tara swallowed, disgusted with herself for being so weak, for letting Ryan intimidate her. She needed to get hold of herself. Ryan couldn’t hurt her again as long as she stayed out of his way. She just needed to think logically, not let fear get the better of her.

She was still facing the window, arguing with herself, when she heard Matt come back into the room. She didn’t turn around.

“Tara?”

“Matt. Go. Please.” She spoke in a fairly normal voice, if a little husky. She just didn’t know for how much longer she’d be able to hold on.

“Tara,” Matt replied in a tight voice, “I’m not going away.”

“Why?” she asked, abruptly swinging around. “Do you want to see me cry? Is that why you’re back? Do you want to see me cry, too?”

“What do you mean, ‘too’?” he asked quietly.

Tara stilled at his very logical question. “Oh, man.” The words came out as a whisper. She dropped her chin, but he reached out to tip it back up with his thumb and forefinger.

“What do you mean, ‘too’?” he repeated. “Did that guy want to make you cry?” he asked.

“He wants to see me crawl.”

“Why?”

She shook her head, afraid that if she spoke, her voice might break.

“Not ready to discuss it?”

She shook her head again, pressing her lips together, hoping he didn’t notice that her eyes were shiny.

Matt looked down at her and Tara stubbornly held her tears at bay until, with the air of a man acting against his better judgment, he reached out and gently put his arms around her and pulled her against the warmth of his solid chest. And, for reasons she didn’t quite understand, Tara let him do it. It had been a very long time since anyone had tried to comfort her and, dammit, it felt better than she imagined it would.

“It’s okay,” Matt whispered. She exhaled and leaned into the warmth of this man she barely knew. She let him hold her until Nicky drove into the yard few seconds later, unknowingly breaking the spell she had fallen under.

She frowned as she stepped back out of Matt’s loose embrace and he gave her a quizzical look.

“I don’t do this.”

“What don’t you do?” he asked softly.

“I don’t act like this,” she answered. “I never act like this.”

“You don’t let people comfort you?”

She shook her head.

To her surprise he smiled. “Hold still, Tara.”

“What?”

“Hold still.” He moved a step closer and once again he tipped her chin up. But this time he slowly and, oh so gently, kissed her and Tara felt her knees go weak.

“Hey, T.” Nicky burst into the house and Tara took a stumbling step backward just before her brother strode into the room.

“Looks like you’re making some headway,” Nicky said to his sister, oblivious to the stunned expression on her face. “Hey, Matt.” He went on into the kitchen, talking the entire way. He reappeared with a pitcher of orange juice and a glass. He filled the glass, drank it, filled it again.