Читать книгу Tycoon's Temptation - Katherine Garbera, Allison Leigh - Страница 11

Chapter Five

“Heard there was something of a ruckus last night at the Tipped Barrel.”

Dane looked up from the bumper he was removing from the Shelby. Shane Golightly stood in the sunlight streaming through the open bay of Stu’s garage. “So?”

Shane’s jaw cocked to one side. He looked over his shoulder to where Stu had his head under the hood of Hadley’s pickup, then walked closer, ostensibly studying the Shelby up on the rack. “Why are you still in Lucius?”

Dane pulled off the safety goggles Stu had loaned him, letting them hang loose around his neck. “You treat all visitors to such a welcome? No wonder this town is no bigger than my thumb. Chamber of Commerce must love you.” He jerked his head toward the window between the office and the service bays. “Your sister is in there, talking to Riva.”

“Stay away from her.”

“I’ve never been one to follow other people’s orders.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Shane kept his voice low. “It may suit me, for the moment, not to run you out of town, but don’t expect that to last. Hadley doesn’t need someone like you messing in her life.”

“Maybe she doesn’t need her brothers messing in her life, either. Ever thought your attention might be better focused on Evie?” As far as Dane was concerned, it was the blond-haired sister who needed some intervention in her life, not the thoroughly engaging Hadley.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dane donned the goggles again and picked up the crowbar. “Ask Hadley. I’m just a guy trying to get his car fixed.” He knew Evie had retrieved the SUV early that morning, because he’d overheard the sharp words the woman exchanged with her sister and had barely contained his urge to interrupt them and defend Hadley since Hadley didn’t seem to do much of it on her own.

The sheriff snorted. “Yeah, and I wear a pink tutu on Friday afternoons.”

“Whatever floats your boat, Sheriff.” Dane attacked the mangled bumper again.

Shane leaned in a little closer. “Just a warning here, Tolliver. You’re hiding something and we both know it. If you hurt my sister, you’ll regret it, I promise you.” Then he straightened and headed around the car toward the cramped office.

Dane finally found purchase with the crowbar, and the bumper peeled away with a screech. He dropped the crowbar and caught the ruined bumper and dumped it to one side.

The god-awful racket he created felt curiously satisfying.

He pulled off the work gloves and goggles and left them on the workbench. He lifted a hand in a wave to Hadley, who was watching him through the office window, and told Stu he’d check back later on the car’s progress.

Stu nodded. He’d already agreed to get Hadley’s truck fixed before putting his attention to the Shelby with the provision that Wood loan some of his elbow grease to the autobody repairs. Lord knew Stu didn’t want him having any reason to be in Lucius a minute longer than necessary.

With the Golightlys seemingly occupied, Dane returned to his room at Tiff’s where he spent a few solid hours on the phone with his assistant, Laura. It didn’t matter that it was a Saturday. Most weeks they worked seven days straight. What was inconvenient, though, was dealing with business without aid of a fax or computer or anything other than his cell phone and his own notes spread across the foot of the bed. But they managed to keep the necessities under control. And dictating letters was pretty much the same regardless of the setting.

“Oh. One more thing.” He told her about his conversation with Mandy Manning at the Tipped Barrel.

“Be sure and wire her the funds today to cover the damages,” he said when she finally started winding down. “And don’t send enough that someone accuses anyone of bribery,” he muttered. A soft knock on his bedroom door interrupted the annoyingly fresh memory of Shane Golightly’s accusation of bribery. He ended his call and pulled open the door.

Hadley stood on the other side, her arms filled with linens. “Hi.”

He’d done no more than wave hello and goodbye at Stu’s garage, and had deliberately gone to the Luscious Lucius for breakfast in order to avoid her.

Not exactly chivalrous behavior, nor adult. But kissing her the night before hadn’t been the smartest thing he’d ever done, either. One of the most pleasurable? Yes. Smart? No.

“What’s all that?” He gestured to her burden.

“Emergency candles and clean linens. And an extra blanket for your bed. The temperature’s supposed to drop again in the next day or two.” She didn’t quite meet his eyes as she looked past him into the room. “If it’s not an inconvenient time, I’ll get you all set up.”

He knew there was no way she could see the contents of his notes spread on the bed from where she stood, or the engraved Rutherford Industries logo topping them. But he didn’t intend to chance a closer look from her, either.

“I won’t get cold.” Particularly not now, knowing that her lips tasted sweeter than they looked. Or knowing that she slept as close as the other side of a wall. That when she’d risen that morning, he’d listened to the sound of water running in the old-fashioned bathroom tucked between them and had cursed his imagination that had never before plagued him with such painful vividness.

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble. And I know how many blankets are on your bed, Wood. Same as were on everyone else’s.”

“Yours?” He was a glutton for punishment.

She blinked. “Well, yes. And truly, the weather forecasters are all saying the temperature—”

“Fine. Give me the stuff.” He reached for the blanket and she tried handing it to him, but the entire bundle in her arms fell in the process. Fat white candles rolled across the hall and yellow terry cloth towels, white sheets, and soft blue wool surrounded her, an ocean of color. “Sorry.” He knelt and she knelt and their heads knocked.

He cursed, feeling the slight impact against his injured forehead with the force of a sledgehammer.

“Oh, Lord.” Her hands caught at his shoulders. “I can’t believe I did that. Sit down.”

He didn’t have much choice with her tugging at him the way she was. He sat down, leaning his head back against the doorjamb. He’d never really seen stars before, but when he closed his eyes, pricks of light sparked behind his eyelids.

He was vaguely aware of Hadley stepping over him, dislodging the jumble of linens. He heard water running and then she returned.

“I’m going to take off the bandage, okay?” Her fingers were cool and gentle on his face as she peeled it away, then she sucked in her breath. “Oh, Wood.

This cut looks terrible. Come on. I’m taking you to the hospital, right now. We should have done it right after the accident, no matter what you wanted.”

She pressed the wet, cold washcloth to his forehead, then tucked her hands under his arms, as if she fully intended to lift him up if he didn’t cooperate.

“I’ve had worse cuts.” And he hadn’t seen stars then because he’d generally been out cold after the fact. He stopped her efforts by closing his hands around her slender waist. “Stop.” He pulled her down, and her slight weight settled over his thighs. It went some way to alleviating the throbbing in his head, since his blood immediately headed south. He kept her in place with one arm and held the cloth to his head with the other.

Nirvana.

“Worse cuts from what?” Her voice was breathy. Soft.

He opened his eyes a slit and looked at her. “From a long time ago,” he admitted. “Racing days.”

She sucked in the corner of her lip for an infinitesimal moment that nevertheless felt indelibly etched in time. “Horse racing? Foot racing? Car racing?”

“Car.” NASCAR, to be exact. And one of the happiest times in his life. Time that had been too short because other responsibilities had taken priority. Responsibilities that grew with each passing year.

She lifted her hand, only to curl her fingers tightly together and drop it to her lap again. “Were you hurt very badly?”

He closed his eyes again, imagining her fingers touching him. “Nothin’ I couldn’t recover from,” he drawled.

“That’s how you got these?”

He went still when imagination became reality and her fingertips gently grazed over the scars near his eye. “Yeah.”

“I’d be too afraid to race a car.” Her voice was whisper soft.

He smiled. “Sweetness, you could race. You’d just have a hard time finding drivers to get on the same track with you.”

Her touch fell away. “I’m really bad.”

He opened his eyes. “You could be better,” he said honestly.

To her credit, she didn’t take offense. “Maybe you could teach me. Give me some pointers. Not for free or anything,” she added hastily. “I’d be willing to pay you.”

“I don’t want your money, Hadley.” He was starting to want something far more personal than that, which was so far out of the question he felt lower than pond scum even thinking it.

It wasn’t a sensation he was used to experiencing.

“Right.” She shifted, but his arm still anchored her in place. She started folding a towel across her splayed legs, her movements jerky enough that he knew she was not entirely comfortable sitting there on the floor in the hallway the way they were. “You just want to be on your way as soon as possible,” she said. “I understand, believe me.”

He didn’t deny it, and knew she’d assume she was correct. “You’ve wanted to leave Lucius yourself?”

“I did leave for a while. For college. Then my mom got sick so I came back home.”

And stayed to run Tiff’s. His palm spread over the small of her back. God, she was so slender. Yet she didn’t feel made of bones and snobbery the way his usual women did.

Hadley’s not usual, and she’s not your woman.

He mentally kicked the conscientious whisper in the teeth. “What’d you study?”

“Hmm? Oh. Business courses.”

“Dull.” He oughta know. Business for him hadn’t been interesting since he’d left behind the company he and Wood had formed to take on the mantle of Rutherford Industries.

She laughed a little and reached for another towel. Her soft breast brushed against his chest, feeling fuller than he’d have expected giving her habitually too-large clothing. “Dull is right. You probably studied something very exciting.”

The pain in his head had subsided to a muted throb. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, you just said you were a race car driver, right? You don’t seem the kind of man who would be satisfied putting on a tie every morning and going to some stuffy nine-to-five.”

“I do wear a tie most days,” he assured dryly. Hell, Darby had called him the king of Armani. And he couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, his business day had been concluded by five o’clock.

“What is it that you do?”

“I own a business.”

“In Indiana?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. RTM was based there.

“Do you like it?”

“I’m good at it,” he said after a moment. “Liking it doesn’t have much to do with that.”

“Rather be racing?”

“Racing. Building cars. Fixing cars.” Exactly what he and Wood had planned so long ago.

“Hmm.” Her fingers plucked at the tidy stack of towels that had been growing on her lap, and her cheeks looked rosy. “Are you married?”

“Do I act married?” Irritation skittered down his spine.

“That’s not exactly an answer.”

“I kissed you, remember?” Had he read her so wrong, then? Was that moment of insanity only memorable for him?

“And you stopped.” Her cheeks were even redder, but her soft mouth was set. Resolute.

“Would you have preferred I continue?” He slid his palm up her spine. Threaded his fingers through her abundantly silky hair and cupped the back of her warm, slender neck. “Believe me, sweetness, it would’ve been no hardship.”

“You were just being nice. Kind. Because of what Charlie said and all.”

“I’m not nice, or kind,” he said evenly. Nice hadn’t gotten Rutherford Industries to where it was today. Kind hadn’t been the words used by the companies he’d taken over. And nice sure in hell wouldn’t involve lying about his reason for remaining in Lucius. “I’m manipulative and controlling and I get what I want.”

The power of being a Rutherford. The name was pretty much synonymous with American royalty.

She looked skeptical. “It’s not a sin to be kind, you know.”

“It is in my father’s world. There’s no time for kindness there.” Only the business. Always the business. Whether he liked it or not.

Her lashes dipped. She nibbled her lip with the slightest edge of her pearly, white teeth. “I think that’s sad,” she said after a moment.

Dane didn’t want sympathy. He wanted payback. Pure and simple. And nice, kind men didn’t use perfectly innocent young women to achieve it.

Then her lashes lifted and her gaze found his. “Well? Are you married or not?”

He’d borrowed Wood Tolliver’s identity. He could easily have borrowed Wood’s wife, at least in name. It would solve one thing, at least. Hadley Golightly wasn’t likely to give him a second glance if she believed he had a wife somewhere. She’d do her level best to make up for the inconvenience of their accident, and she’d be hospitable while she was about it, but that would be all. He knew it in his bones. He could easily remove her from his own temptation, just by telling her one simple three-letter word.

Yes.

“No,” he said. “I’ve never been married.”

Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes softened. She covered his hand, gently pressing against it, directing the damp washcloth more carefully against his cut. “That’s… good,” she finally whispered.

Oh, yeah. It was good all right. He felt her body against his from chest to thigh and felt as randy as a teenager as a result.

“What’s going on here?”

Hadley nearly jumped out of her skin at the tight voice. The stack of towels she’d refolded tumbled right off her legs and she scrambled from Wood’s lap, looking up at Shane and feeling as guilty as if she’d been caught running naked down Main Street.

Wood closed his hand over hers, preventing her from going far. “Your sister’s been rendering first aid,” he said smoothly.

Hadley’s face felt on fire. Her entire body felt flushed, for that matter, and not all of it stemmed from embarrassment at her big brother catching them.

“Mebbe you need to go to the hospital. I’ll drive you on over.” It wasn’t a suggestion, but a decree.

Wood pushed to his feet, bringing her with him. “Sorry to disappoint you, Sheriff. I’m pretty comfortable right here.”

Hadley looked from Wood to her brother. He hardly showed it, but she knew Shane was furious and for some reason Wood was egging him on. “Shane, what are you doing here?”

He eyed her. “You wanted me to split more logs for you before tonight, remember?”

Of course. She felt even more idiotic. Shane always went out of his way to make sure she had plenty of wood on hand in case the power went out, something the old house often suffered during a storm, and she’d specifically asked him to help her, given the current weather forecast.

“Mr. Tolliver can help me,” Shane went on.

She made a face. “Now you’re just being ridiculous. If anything, Wood should be resting. I nearly boxed Stu’s ears for letting him work at the garage this morning on that poor car of his.” She crouched down and swept up the linens in one huge armload and dropped the candles on top. “And I have work to do, if you don’t mind.”

She shouldered past Wood into his room. She dumped the blanket and fresh sheets on the head of the bed and rapidly folded the clean towels, yet again, to leave in a stack on the dresser near the bathroom door. She set out the candles, checked that there were still plenty of matches in the antique silver box of them on the dresser and then turned back to the bed, only to find Wood was already scooping up his paperwork that was scattered over the foot of it.

Aware of her brother still standing near the doorway watching with plain displeasure, she whipped off the green-and-yellow quilt. In minutes, she’d stripped and remade the bed with clean linens and the extra blanket. Then she smoothed the quilt top back in place, plumped the pillows a little and hurried to the door, the old sheets in her arms. “Sorry for interrupting your work,” she murmured to Wood, nodding at the sheaf clenched in his long fingers.

She sailed past her brother and dumped the sheets down the laundry chute hidden behind a panel in the hallway. They’d land smack dab in the center of the laundry room in the basement. When Shane didn’t move, she turned and glared at him. “I can call Dad about the logs if you prefer. He’s forever offering to help.”

“I said I’d do it,” Shane groused. His boots scraped along the fussy carpet runner as he stomped past her, then out the back way through the kitchen. If the slam of that door was anything to go by, Hadley knew his temper was in fine form.

She let out a long breath and cast a sideways look at Wood. “He’s not usually so disagreeable.”

“You don’t have to make excuses for anyone, Hadley.”

Maybe she didn’t. But he was certainly the first person to tell her so. She didn’t know what it was about the man that alternately made her feel strong and brave, then… not.

So she fell back on the safe and familiar.

“I’ll have lunch out within the hour. Sorry to have disturbed you.” She turned to go. She needed to change the linens in the tower room also, and leave out extra blankets for all the regulars, who took care of their own laundry. But she stopped. “Are you sure your head is all right?” She looked at him.

His expression seemed stark.

“Save your worry, Hadley, for someone who needs it.”

Something curled inside her at the words. Not a command or a rebuff.

But a plea?

She dismissed the very notion of it. Her imagination had clearly shifted into overdrive.

She nodded and went to finish her tasks and when she set out lunch that day, she resumed her usual custom of spending the peaceful hour in her room with her papers and pen. But instead of furiously scribbling out the stories that were forever tumbling around inside her head, she sat on her cushioned window seat and stared blindly out the window, the pen seemingly forgotten in her hand.

The only character in her thoughts was a real, live person named Wood Tolliver.

The weather forecast proved correct and a fresh snowstorm hit that evening after dinner. Vince kept the fire stoked with the additional split logs Shane had left. Hadley mixed up a large pot of hot cocoa, and most everyone congregated in the parlor where the fire cheerfully blazed despite the howling wind that rattled the windows.

Everyone except Wood.

When she’d finished up the phone calls of arrangements for Evie’s surprise birthday party, Hadley tried not to let his absence concern her. But it was a hopeless endeavor, doomed to failure from the very start. And finally, while everyone else was occupied with a raucous game of charades, she set aside her party notes and went to the kitchen. She fixed a tray of cocoa and cookies and carried it down the hall. She rapped her knuckles softly against the door panel.

He didn’t answer, and standing in the hall far longer than necessary only ended up making her feel particularly pathetic. The man was finally getting some well-deserved rest.

Who could blame him for that?

She returned the tray to the kitchen and bade a good-night to everyone in the parlor. She noticed that Nikki Day was no longer there. Mrs. Ardelle told her that she’d retired. Apparently during Hadley’s futile wait outside Wood’s door.

As far as Hadley had been able to determine, Nikki—while friendly and polite—didn’t seem to be having a particularly enjoyable time. She was clearly pregnant, but had only picked at her dinner. And Mrs. Ardelle had said she’d done the same during lunch.

If only to ease her concern about someone, Hadley went up the tower and knocked softly on that door.

After a moment it opened. Nikki’s face looked pale and drawn. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to make certain you were warm enough up here. If you’re not, I could start a fire in the fireplace for you.”

Nikki pushed up the sleeves of her dark-green sweater. “I’m fine without it. And the room is lovely.” She looked away for a moment.

Hadley had to curtail the impulse to give the woman a hug. She looked as if she needed one just as badly as Joanie ever had. But she also recognized the woman’s innate sense of privacy and didn’t want to cause her any discomfort. “If the storm doesn’t deliver too much snow, you’ll be all set for the sleigh ride you requested. Tomorrow after lunch.”

A shadow came and went in the other woman’s eyes. “You must think it very odd that I’ve come here this way. Going on things like sleigh rides alone.”

“I think you have your reasons,” Hadley said honestly. “And it’s a pleasure for me to make your stay special in the same way my mother must have for your relatives who were here before.”

“My fiancé’s parents, actually,” Nikki said. “They were here on their honeymoon. Cody always talked about us coming here.” She pressed her lips together for a moment. “I never thought I’d be coming by myself.”

Forget privacy. Hadley reached out and gently squeezed Nikki’s cool hands. “If there’s anything I can do, you just ask. I have all of the guest registers that my mother used. Maybe you’d like to look at them sometime. I’m sure we’d find their visit listed.”

Nikki’s eyes looked moist. She nodded. “Thank you.” She squeezed Hadley’s hands in return, then reached for the door. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Hadley headed back downstairs and went to her room. It was chilly and she added a blanket to her own bed the way she had the others, then—since there was no sound at all through the door to Wood’s room—she indulged herself with a hot bath and a book. No matter the fact that she’d retired for the night, her mind was simply too busy to sleep.

The book was good, and the bathwater was cold, the bubbles long gone when the lights flickered and went out.

She stared into the inky darkness. Well, great. But it wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with a power outage, and as long as she ran Tiff’s, it would undoubtedly not be the last.

She tossed aside her book, well out of the way of any water splashing, and climbed out of the tub, racing the towel over her chilled skin and fumbling into her robe again. Going by feel, she pulled the stopper in the tub and padded into her bedroom. She lit the oil lamp on her dresser and went back into the bathroom, tidying up by the dim light there. Then she went out into the hallway and checked the rest of the house.

All was still. Silent, save the slow tick of the windup anniversary clock sitting on the mantel in the parlor.

She pulled back the lacy curtains to look out the front.

The entire street was dark, meaning it wasn’t just Tiff’s that suffered a power outage this time. By the moonlight, however, she could see the fresh drifts of snow in the street.

It took her a moment to make a shape out of the shadows. But she realized when the shadow moved, becoming two distinct forms in the middle of the street where the snowfall wasn’t quite as deep, that it was two people.

One headed off down the street, a genderless blob of dark coat and hat. One headed toward Tiff’s.

She straightened abruptly, letting the curtain fall back into place. She had no time to escape down the hall to her room, and in seconds, she heard footsteps on the porch, followed by the creak of the front door.

Great. Just great.

She didn’t even have the sense to extinguish her oil lamp. She just stood there in the parlor, listening. Visualizing his motions, along with his sounds—closing the door behind him, the creak of his leather jacket being removed, the nearly soundless tread up the hallway, passing the parlor doorway.

Pausing.

“So you’re the glow in an otherwise dark night.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin. The lamp bobbled in her hand, and she quickly steadied it before she dropped the infernal thing and set fire to the place. Her other hand clutched the lapels of her robe together. “The power is out.”

He was kind enough not to point out that he’d undoubtedly noticed that particular point. “Is everything okay?”

She wanted to ask him about the person he’d been with. An assignation? She’d never before used that word. Never had cause. She didn’t have cause now. The man was only a guest—a reluctant visitor in Lucius—a situation for which she was responsible. “Everything is fine. I was just, um, checking the place over. To be safe.” It was the gospel truth, yet she still felt as if she’d been caught spying on him. She hurriedly left the parlor. “Here.” She extended the lamp to him. “You’ll need this to get around.”

“It’s late.”

So, he could state the obvious as well as she could. “Yes.” And maybe that was why she felt unaccountably emotional. “Do you want the lamp or not? I can find my way around here with my eyes closed.”

He still didn’t take it. He took another step, entering further into her small circle of light. She could see her black scarf hanging from one hand, his jacket from the other.

“You’re upset.”

“Of course I’m not. I have nothing to be upset about.”

Another step. His head tilted a little to one side. “Hadley, it’s just a power outage. Nothing to worry about.”

If only she’d been quick enough to use that as an excuse. “Right. I know.” Did she smell perfume on him? “Well, here. Take the lamp. Don’t want you tripping on something and cracking open your head more than it’s already been.”

“I don’t need the lamp.” He tossed aside the jacket and scarf and closed his hands over her forearms beneath the wide sleeves of her robe. “I want to know what’s got you so jumpy. Is it your brother-in-law again?”

“What? No. Charlie never bothers me. Last night was just because, because he was drunk.” His fingers were cold, yet they still made her skin heat, particularly when his hands slid farther up, curving around her elbows. “I told you that.”

His thumbs glided over her skin. “Then, what’s wrong, Hadley?”

Each gentle brush of his thumbs yanked her nerves tighter. The lamp’s flame danced inside the tall glass globe, and she tightened her shaking grip on it, holding it sternly between them. But keeping control of one part of her left her tongue unfortunately unguarded.

“Who was that woman? I thought you didn’t know anyone in Lucius.”