Читать книгу When We Met - Susan Mallery, Susan Mallery - Страница 10

CHAPTER THREE

“THIS CAME FOR YOU.”

Taryn glanced up as Larissa walked into her office. She was carrying what looked like a very exotic orchid. One that Taryn had never seen before.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, reaching for the plant.

Larissa grinned. “There’s a card.”

Taryn touched the soft petals of the flower. The colors were unusual, she thought. Pink and a blue violet. “What does it say?”

“I haven’t read it.”

Taryn put the plant on her desk, then looked at her friend. “Of course you have.”

Larissa laughed. “There’s just a place and a time. It’s for tonight.”

She took the card and studied it. Sure enough, Condor Valley Winery, 7:00 p.m., was written in bold black pen.

An invitation or instructions, she thought, intrigued by the assumption. What if she couldn’t make it?

“Are you going?” Larissa asked.

“I don’t know.”

Larissa sat in the chair next to the desk. “You have to. You said he’s really sexy.”

“I don’t remember saying that.”

“Okay, you thought it. Same thing.” She put a small brochure on the desk. “There are instructions that go with your new plant. Apparently it’s very rare and delicate.”

“You could take it on as a cause,” Taryn told her.

“I could, but you got there first.” She leaned in. “So, what do you know about Angel? Other than he got you a really unusual flower.”

“He’s with the bodyguard school, he’s a former sniper, he was married.”

“That’s right. He’s the widower. Any kids?”

“I don’t know. None in town.”

“Why do you like him?”

“I’m not sure I do.”

Larissa shook her head. “Fine. Why are you interested in him? I think he’s kind of scary.”

Taryn thought about all the easy answers. That he was attractive and sexy. That he’d made the first move. That she was pretty sure there was chemistry. That Jack was right and she needed to put herself out there. Although Jack had been talking about making girlfriends rather than taking a lover, but still.

“He doesn’t need me to take care of him,” she said at last, speaking the absolute truth.

“Unlike the boys.” Larissa nodded. “That makes sense. It’s just I’ve always sort of pictured you with a banker.”

“Another man in a suit? No, thanks. Been there, done that over and over again.”

She didn’t want someone like her. She didn’t want someone from her world. Angel was different in every way possible. When he looked at her with those cool gray eyes, she had no idea what he was thinking. That was kind of fun. She just hoped it didn’t mean he was a serial killer.

“I guess it’s okay,” Larissa said slowly. “Everybody in town seems to like him, so he must be a nice guy.”

“Tell me you haven’t been asking about him.”

“Just a little.”

Taryn held in a groan at the thought of her personal life being discussed.

“I was discreet,” Larissa protested.

“Uh-huh. Is there anyone you won’t talk to?”

“No, and that’s why you love me.”

* * *

TARYN LEFT WORK early so she would have time to get ready for her date with Angel. She drove the short distance to her house and parked in the single-car garage.

Usually she preferred condo living—less maintenance for her—but when the company had relocated to Fool’s Gold, she’d decided to try a house.

The place was small—only two bedrooms, but they were both a nice size. The house had been remodeled pretty much from the ground up, so she had a new kitchen and a nice walk-in shower in the bathroom. Surprisingly, the feature that most appealed to her was the garden. An old-fashioned stone fence surrounded the backyard. There was a patio and several raised plant beds. She’d never grown anything before in her life, but she’d started doing some research and was thinking of planting some flowers and a few vegetables.

Now Taryn walked through the kitchen. She kicked off her heels and walked barefoot down the hallway and into the master. Although the house had been updated, most of the Craftsman touches had been left in place, including the built-in bookcase by the stone fireplace across from her bed. The fence out back was high enough that she didn’t have to pull her drapes for privacy, which allowed a lot of light into the room. She shrugged out of her jacket, then unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the carpet. She removed her blouse, then put on a robe and walked into the bathroom.

She wore her black hair long and loose. Minimal daily products, plenty of conditioner and weekly scalp treatments kept her hair in decent shape. She’d been pleasantly surprised to discover that she could get her favorite hair gloss applied every six weeks here, just as she had done back in L.A.

She pulled her hair back in a cloth headband and washed her face. Then she reapplied her makeup, paying close attention to her eyes. She was going to be wearing black, so she wanted to emphasize her eye shape and color. When she was done with that, she applied a faint shimmering body lotion to her chest, shoulders, arms and legs.

After penciling in a nearly nude lip color, she returned to her bedroom and stepped into the closet. She already knew what she was going to wear—she’d made her decision as soon as she’d seen the invitation. If Angel wanted to play games, she was willing to play them with him. But she was equally determined that she would be the winner.

To that end, she removed her bra and then stepped into the strapless black dress she’d chosen. From the front, it was simple—fitted and nearly to the knee. But in the back it dipped to hip level. Every time she moved, the fabric shifted as if the viewer were going to see something he shouldn’t. A killer dress, she thought with a smile. Perfect for a former sniper.

The best part was she would pair the dress with a classic black blazer. With the jacket, the outfit was conservative enough for work. But without...

She studied her shoes and chose a pair of Dolce & Gabbana lace pumps with four-inch heels. She wasn’t usually a lace-and-bow kind of woman, but these were both sexy and sophisticated. Of course they were D&G, so it wasn’t as though she could actually go wrong.

She stepped into the shoes and then studied herself in the mirror. Jewelry should be simple, she thought, and went with diamond studs that Jack had given her when their divorce was final.

She transferred the items she would need for that night to a black silk clutch, then headed out the door.

Condor Valley Winery was set in the foothills, just above the vineyards. Although the sign in the parking lot said they closed at five this time of year, she parked by the main doors and walked up the paved path. She had no doubt that Angel would have made special arrangements. He was a man used to getting his way and he wouldn’t let a little thing like regular business hours deter him.

Sure enough a woman in her earlier twenties was waiting inside. She smiled. “Ms. Crawford?”

“Yes.”

“If you’ll follow me, please.”

The woman led Taryn to a small elevator that whisked them to the third floor. From there they went into what looked like a private library—a room filled with built-in bookcases and comfortable, black leather furniture. Double doors stood open and led to a large balcony with a bistro table and two chairs. From where she stood, Taryn could see the whole valley and the sun just beginning to set. Any chill was chased away by the portable heaters set up around the table.

“Let me get your appetizers,” the woman said, and excused herself.

A minute or so later she was back with two plates of small bites. Once she placed them on the table, she returned to the library and collected a bottle of red wine and two glasses. She expertly opened the wine but didn’t pour, then smiled at Taryn and left.

Taryn stepped out onto the balcony and breathed in the night air. Anticipation settled low in her belly, but there was also a kind of quiet comfort. It had been a long time since a man had taken care of her this way. Or maybe the fault was hers—maybe it had been too long since she’d let someone take care of her.

“Good evening.”

She turned and saw Angel standing in the doorway. He looked tall and broad—imposing in a black shirt and black pants.

“Hello,” she said, staying where she was, wanting him to come to her.

He didn’t disappoint. He closed the space between them and took her hands in his. “You came.”

“You’re not surprised.”

One eyebrow rose. “Maybe I am.”

She laughed. “I doubt that. Thank you for my orchid. It’s very beautiful.”

“It reminded me of you.”

His hands were warm, his grip gentle. He didn’t try to pull her close or make her feel as if he wouldn’t let go. A clever strategy because she found herself wanting to step nearer.

In her four-inch heels, she was nearly his height, so contortions would not be required if they were to kiss. She could just ease forward and find out if the faint heat sweeping through her was all about possibilities or if there was reality to the quivering.

Or not, she thought as she carefully took a single step back.

He released her instantly, then gestured to the chairs by the table. “Shall we?”

When they were seated, Angel poured them each a glass of wine. “This Cab is from their library collection. Aged longer than most of the wine they sell. It’s smooth, with a surprising finish.”

She hung her bag over the handle of her chair, then reached for the glass. “Why do I get the idea you’re talking about more than the wine? Although I’m not comfortable being described as aged.”

“Maybe I wasn’t talking about you,” he said, his gray eyes settling on her face.

“Yourself, then.” She tilted her head. “Yes, I can see that. Although I have some concerns about the surprising finish. What does that mean? A little squeak? A fist pump? Should I be worried?”

He chuckled, then touched his glass to hers. “Thank you for joining me tonight.”

“Thank you for asking me.”

She took a sip. The Cab was smooth, but there was still a hint of tannins at the end. Plenty of berry flavor, without it being overpowering.

“Why did you come to Fool’s Gold?” she asked.

“Justice moved the company here.”

“Was that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I like small towns. I grew up in one.” He turned his attention to the view. “You’re not from a small town.”

A statement or a question, she wondered. “No, I’m an L.A. girl at heart. Moving to Fool’s Gold has been a transition.”

“Then why not keep the company in la-la land?”

“I was outvoted. Jack, Kenny and Sam came here for a Pro-Am golf tournament. I’m still not clear on what happened that weekend, but when they returned to work on the following Monday, they announced we were moving.” She sipped her wine again. “Score is a democracy and I was in the minority. Of course they left all the details of moving up to me.”

“Naturally.”

“Where did you grow up?”

“West Virginia.” He glanced at her and smiled. “A place you’ve never heard of. Coal mining town.”

“I’ve never been in one,” she admitted.

“There’s good and bad. A lot of poverty with one large employer. The work is hard. My mom died when I was born, so it was my dad and me. I watched him come out of that coal mine day after day and swore I was going to get out.”

“Which you did.”

“I went into the military. When I left, I got involved with a security company doing about the same kind of work without so many rules.”

She wasn’t sure what that meant. Black ops stuff? Which, like the coal mining town, was more concept than reality to her.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” she said.

“Thanks. I never knew her.” His mouth curved up again. “The women on our block decided they were going to take her place. They were always looking out for me. It was like having twelve moms instead of one. Let me tell you, it was tough to be bad.”

She laughed. “Which you wanted to be.”

His gaze locked with hers. “Nearly all the time. But I learned patience. There were still opportunities, but I had to work for them.”

A message? She held in a shiver and reminded herself he was good. Better than she was used to.

“What about you?” he asked. “Suburbs? Two-point-four siblings and a white picket fence?”

An easy question for most, she thought, the need to shiver fading as if it had never happened. Tension crept through her, but she ignored the tightening in her shoulders as she tried to calculate how much to tell. And how to tell it such that he didn’t know she was lying.

“It was my dad and me, just like you,” she said, confident their situations couldn’t have been more different. “My mom left when I was young.”

“That’s rough.”

She shrugged because the truth—that her mother had walked away from her only child, as well as her husband—was bad enough. Worse was the fact that the man had regularly beaten them both and with his wife gone, he’d only had one place to turn.

“It was L.A.,” she said lightly. “I had distractions. And now we’re both here. The people are very welcoming, if a little too involved in each other’s lives.”

“The disadvantage of a small town. There aren’t a lot of secrets.”

She relaxed as he accepted the change in topic. Every new relationship had to navigate through that rocky space. The exchange of past information. It was done and they would move on.

“How does that work for you?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a man of secrets.”

He laughed. “Less than you would think. I go to work, hang out with my friends.” Humor warmed his eyes. “I do live with a woman.”

“So I’ve heard. Consuelo Ly. She’s engaged.”

“Damn. And here I thought I was going to rile you.”

“It’s a little early to play the jealousy card. Besides, you don’t cheat.” She took a sip of her wine and wished they were sitting closer. The evening would be more interesting without this table between them.

“How do you know that?”

“Am I wrong?”

“No.”

She leaned closer. “You’re not the type. In my book, with cheating comes shame. You wouldn’t allow that emotion.” She smiled. “My business partners are guys. We spend a lot of time with each other. Let’s just say whatever I didn’t know about your gender before we went into business I’ve since learned.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “You’re right. I don’t cheat.”

“How long were you married?” Because she’d heard that he had been. Not that it was easy getting information on Angel without admitting her interest. Something she hadn’t been willing to do.

“Sixteen years.”

Okay, that was unexpected. “A long time,” she admitted. “What happened?”

“She died. A car accident.”

Five simple words spoken in a matter-of-fact tone. But Taryn heard the pain behind the sentences. Felt the wound as if it had been inflicted on her.

“I’m sorry,” she said automatically, even as she knew the phrase was ridiculous and unhelpful. “How long has it been?”

“Six years.”

The way he spoke the words told her there was still emotion there. Still caring. She liked that he hadn’t banished his wife to some back part of his memory.

“What about you?” he asked.

“I was married once. Briefly. To Jack.”

One eyebrow rose. “Your business partner Jack?”

She nodded. “I left home after high school.” A lie, but one she always told. No one had to know she’d run away at sixteen and lived on the streets. It had been tough and scary, and she’d made it through.

“After a year or two of dead-end jobs, I realized if I wanted to make something of myself, I needed to get an education. I worked my way through college and graduated when I was twenty-six.”

With a ton of debt and a sense of pride she’d never experienced before.

“Good for you.”

“Thanks.” She glanced out at the horizon, watching the last of the light fade in the west. Stars had already appeared overhead. The air was cooler, but with the heaters, she stayed warm.

“I was lucky,” she continued. “I got a PR job with the L.A. Stallions. I was broke and living in my car, but it was a chance to use my degree.”

“Marketing?” he said with a laugh. “You studied marketing.”

“I know. Not practical. I kept trying to talk myself into accounting. A solid and stable career. But I loved the creative side of business and I figured I might as well go for it. I waitressed at an all-night diner, went to class, studied and slept about four hours a night. When I got an internship, it was worse, but I didn’t care. I knew what I wanted.”

She’d thrown herself into her goals and told herself she would get a chance to sleep when she was thirty.

“My third day with the Stallions, Jack caught me eating the leftovers from some catered lunch they’d had.” She’d been wrapping sandwiches meant for the garbage in napkins with the idea that they could easily be her meals for the next couple of days.

“He took pity on me and invited me out to dinner.” She turned to Angel. “Dinner turned into breakfast. A few days later, I moved in with him.”

She waited for the inevitable “Did you love him?” Because the few people who knew the story always asked that. She hadn’t known Jack well enough to be sure how much she even liked him, but she’d been homeless and hungry and he was a good guy.

“He was a way out,” Angel said quietly, surprising her with his insight. “Better than living in your car.”

“He’s a great guy. I know that now. But at the time...” She shrugged. “Yeah, it was better than living in my car.” She paused. “Jack has a kind streak. Once he accepts you, you’re in for life. He accepted me. Over the next couple of months, I discovered I really did like him a lot. Then I turned up pregnant.”

She drew in a breath, hating how stupid that phrase always made her feel. She’d been careful, but not careful enough. When she’d realized what had happened, she’d been afraid he would think she was trying to trap him.

“So you got married.”

“That weekend. We flew to Las Vegas. I tried to talk him out of it. No.” She shook her head. “Actually I didn’t. Not very hard. Part of me wanted to let him take care of me.” Because no one ever had.

She was aware of talking too much, of saying too much, but somehow the words kept on coming.

“Two weeks later, I lost the baby.”

It had happened so fast. She hadn’t even absorbed the fact that there was a child and then it was gone. She’d gone to see her doctor, who’d confirmed the miscarriage.

“I filed for a divorce the next day,” she continued. “Without a baby, there was no reason for us to stay together and I didn’t want to take advantage of Jack. Only the Stallions didn’t see it that way. All they knew was that their star quarterback was getting a divorce and that having his ex-wife around might make him uncomfortable, so I was fired.”

“Hell of a week,” Angel murmured.

And not her worst one, she thought. “Jack, being Jack, tried to talk them out of it. When that didn’t work, he came to me and offered to be a silent partner in a new PR firm. I agreed and Score was born. A few years later, he brought Sam and Kenny on board and we’ve been together ever since.”

They’d turned a business partnership into a family. No matter what, she and Jack would be there for each other. He hadn’t been the great love of her life, but she cared for him more than she’d ever cared about anyone. No matter what, she would be there for Jack and he would there for her. In a way, that was better than romance, because she could depend on it.

Angel smiled at her. “You win. I can’t top that story.”

“You could tell me about the guy who slit your throat.”

“He had a bad week, too. Enough on that. So what’s your favorite business in town?”

He was changing the subject—something she was happy to have happen. She’d already said too much and couldn’t figure out why. It certainly couldn’t be the wine. She was on her first glass.

“I can’t pick,” she admitted. “I like them all. Favorite season?”

“Summer.”

“Girls in bikinis?”

“I like running when it’s warm.”

“Running as in exercising outdoors on purpose?”

He chuckled. “That would be it, yes.”

“My idea of hell.”

“You work out in a gym.”

“How do you know I work out at all?”

His gaze traveled over her body. “I’m not going to bother answering that.”

“I do yoga, too,” she murmured.

He chuckled. “Lucky me. Favorite James Bond actor?”

“Pierce Brosnan. James Bond movies should come with a wink. The new guy is too serious. I miss all the gadgets.” She looked at him. “You, however, are old-school. Your favorite is Sean Connery.”

* * *

“HE IS,” ANGEL admitted, watching the last rays of sun play across Taryn’s face. For a second they flashed on her sculpted cheekbones and then the sun slipped below the horizon.

Lights had already come on around them, but even with them, she was mostly in shadow. Her pale skin gleamed while her dark eyes stayed mysterious.

He held in a chuckle, knowing he was acting like a sixteen-year-old on his first date with the prom queen. Horny and out of his league.

“I’m very much old-school,” he said as she rose.

Before he could figure out what she was doing, she slipped off her jacket and hung it over the back of the chair. Whatever he’d been going to say next was lost when he took in her bare back and how the dress dipped low to her hips.

Her skin was smooth, her waist narrow. She settled back in the chair and angled toward him. What had been a tailored dress that hugged her curves had suddenly become so much more than that. His mouth went dry. Hunger boiled and sent blood flooding his groin.

“You’re probably the kind of person who enjoys books rather than an e-reader,” she said, picking up her wine again.

“I like how they feel in my hands,” he said without thinking, his gaze still on her. “The smell of the paper. It’s a tactile experience.” He raised his gaze to hers. “Nicely played.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a measured look. “I like that you don’t assume I’m easy.”

“Any man who does that is a fool.”

“The world is a foolish place.”

“When was the last time you let a man take care of you?”

She paused and something flashed in her eyes. A memory, he would guess. But good or bad? He couldn’t say.

“It’s been a while. I don’t trust easily. Just like you don’t give up control.”

“I can.”

“When was the last time? Nineteen ninety-eight?”

She was teasing. The real answer was 1992. With Marie. But he wasn’t going to talk about that.

He rose and walked around the table, then gently drew Taryn to her feet. He liked that they were nearly the same height.

“Love the shoes,” he murmured. “Ridiculous but effective.”

He put his hands on her shoulders, then lightly drew them down her arms. Every part of her appealed to him. His dick was more than willing, but the rest of him said it would be so much better to wait. Besides, he’d promised. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he had a feeling not many men had kept their promises to Taryn. He wanted to make sure he kept his.

She raised her chin, as if challenging him. He studied her mouth, the perfect shape, the lower lip slightly fuller than the top. He wanted to know how they would fit together when they kissed. How she would taste. He wanted to feel the steady pressure of need building until he had no choice but to guide them toward the inevitable end.

But not tonight.

He stepped to the side and picked up her jacket, then helped her into it. “It’s late. Let me walk you to your car.”