Gavin loaded his items onto the conveyor belt, and the checker whipped them past the scanner faster than a springtime tornado. By the time he sauntered out the door with the loose-hipped gait of an Old West gunslinger, the woman in front of Anna finally wrote her check.
It occurred to Anna, as her groceries were being checked and bagged, to wonder how Gavin was going to get his groceries home on the motorcycle.
When she left the store a few minutes later, followed by the sacker pushing her cart of purchases, she had her answer. Gavin Marshall wasn’t going to get his groceries home on the motorcycle. Grinning, he stood next to her car and waited for her, obviously expecting her to haul them home for him.
“I knew you wouldn’t mind,” he told her.
Anna had the strident urge to grab his plastic bags and fling their contents across the parking lot.
The urge unsettled her. She was not a violent person. She’d never been prone to anger before meeting this man. With controlled effort, she slipped her key into the lock on her trunk and turned it. Standing aside while her bags were moved from the shopping cart into her trunk, she said not a word when Gavin loaded his bags in beside hers. She very much feared that if she opened her mouth, something totally unladylike would escape.
Anna thanked the sacker, then slipped into her car and drove home.
Gavin followed close behind her. He was really starting to like this woman. It probably wasn’t very nice of him to enjoy getting a rise out of her, but there it was. She was fun to rile.
As long, he thought, as it wasn’t over anything serious, such as her feelings of safety. As long as he wasn’t causing her genuine distress. That, he didn’t want.
No, he only wanted two things from Anna Collins. He wanted her to stop bailing Ben out of trouble, and he wanted her to not be angry with Gavin for forcing his company on her the way he was doing.
Yeah, well, pal, you go ahead and want in one hand...
When Anna pulled into her driveway and started to get out to open the garage door, Gavin blocked her car door with the Harley.
“I’ll get the door,” he called over the throaty rumble of the motorcycle’s engine and the louder clatter of her car.
Well, Anna thought, at least he was making himself useful.
When he raised the garage door, she pulled her car in, killed the engine and got out.
“If you park in the middle like that, I can’t get the Harley in.”
Anna raised an eyebrow at him. “And your point is...”
“Of course, it’s not my bike, so if it gets stolen out of your driveway, it’s no skin off my nose. I guess it’s insured. Although if anyone is paying insurance premiums on it, it would have to be you, so you’d know that better than I would.”
With a slow, deep breath for patience, Anna climbed back into the car, backed it out, and pulled in again, this time leaving room for the motorcycle on her passenger side. While Gavin pulled in, she unlocked her trunk and reached for her bags.
“I’ll get those.”
Well. Useful indeed. When Ben was home, he certainly never offered to carry in the groceries.
She pulled two bags from the trunk herself and carried them into the kitchen. Turning from the counter to go back for more, she nearly ran into Gavin. He had carried in the rest of her bags, and all of his, at once.
“You really ought to get an automatic garage door opener.” He set the bags on the counter and untangled his hands from the plastic handles.
“I’m perfectly capable of opening my own garage door.”
He started emptying the contents of the bags onto the counter. “Of course you are. But wouldn’t it be easier if you didn’t have to?”
“Easier? Is that what you look for, the easy way?”
“You sure are prickly.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’d rather do things the hard way than admit somebody else had a good idea.”
“I don’t know why you would say something like that. You know nothing about me.”
“I know you’d rather get out in the rain and lift that heavy door yourself than admit how convenient a garage door opener would be.” .
“In case you failed to notice, it’s not raining.”
“Prickly, and stubborn.”
Anna placed her milk, margarine, cottage cheese and yogurt in the refrigerator. “What do you do for a living, Mr. Marshall, that makes you think money should be wasted on luxuries like garage door openers?”
“Luxuries?” he protested. “An automatic garage door opener stopped being a luxury back in the seventies. If you don’t care about the convenience, how about the safety aspect? You won’t throw your back out, and some mugger can’t grab you from behind while you’re out opening the door.”
Anna took her time carefully placing the chicken and roast in the freezer, setting the three-pound package of ground beef in the sink for dividing and rewrapping. It was either place all items with care, or risk giving in to the urge to throw them. A mugger, indeed. Did he get a commission on automatic garage door openers or something?
“You know what they call people like you who refuse to take precautions?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“Victims.”
Anna slammed the freezer door closed and whirled to face him. “I’m nobody’s victim, Mr. Marshall.”
“Don’t kid yourself. You’re your own brother’s favorite victim.”
“How dare you say such a thing!”
“You do know you’re the reason he never worries about getting himself into trouble, don’t you? He knows you’ll always bail him out. Is that why you don’t have something as basic as a garage door opener? You spend all your money bailing Ben out of trouble?”
“If—and right now that’s a very big if—I’m not going to call the police again and have you forcibly removed from my home, you’re going to have to keep your opinions about my relationship with my brother to yourself.”
“Look. I like Ben. He’s basically a good kid. All I’m saying is that he’s never learned to take responsibility for his own actions, because he knows you’ll take the responsibility for him.”
It was hard to argue against the truth, and Anna resented Gavin all the more for speaking it so plainly. She did take the responsibility for Ben’s actions on herself. She did keep bailing him out of trouble. She couldn’t help it. Ben was all she had left, her only family.
“Whatever is between Ben and me is none of your business.”
“When he starts pulling his little stunts on me, I make it my business.”
This wasn’t going to work, Anna realized. Gavin was obviously not going to leave on his own—he’d just bought enough groceries for a week.
Ben, Ben, when are you going to grow up and stop getting us into these messes?
No answer came, and she felt disloyal for asking the question. For too many years it had been her and Ben against the world. Or the world against her and Ben. She could not stop protecting her brother merely because she knew she should, or because Gavin Marshall told her to.
Resigned to the inevitable, she took a slow, deep breath and faced the man in her kitchen. “How much money does Ben owe you?”
Gavin’s eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not going to get him off the hook by paying me yourself. This is exactly what I came here to prevent.”
“How much?”
“Nothin’ doin’, doll. I won’t take your money. It’s not your debt, it’s Ben’s. Make him own up to it, Anna. Make him pay it himself.”
“How much, Gavin?”
“How the hell’s he ever going to learn that his actions have consequences that he has to face on his own if you keep bailing him out?”
“How much?”
“Forty-five thousand dollars.”
Ann grabbed for the counter to keep from falling down.
Chapter Four
“Forty-fi—”
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“More like forty-six,” he said bluntly, “since the car alone was worth forty-one the last time I checked, and he owes me five thousand cash on top of it.”
It took a moment for Anna to realize that she hadn’t fallen down some dark tunnel. She was still in her kitchen, still facing Gavin Marshall. Her ears were still ringing with the outrageous figure he’d quoted her.
Somewhere down the street a horn honked, setting the dog two doors down to barking. Traffic out on Northwest Sixty-third behind her back fence rumbled by, engines revving, tires squealing, radios blaring. Everything outside was normal. And the man in her kitchen claimed Ben owed him forty-five thousand dollars.
“You’re not serious;” she protested.
“Serious as a heart attack, darlin’. Good ol’ Brother Ben is in it up to his eyeballs this time.”
“Forty-five...thousand...dollars?”
“Round it off to forty-six and you’ve got it. Now, what was that you were saying about paying me off?”
Anna swallowed heavily. “I don’t have that kind of money.”
“It wouldn’t matter if you did. The debt isn’t yours. It’s Ben’s.”
Finally Anna’s brain clicked into gear. “What he owes you is five thousand cash. He’ll bring your car back because he’ll want his motorcycle. Meanwhile, you’ve got his motorcycle, and it’s worth a considerable amount.”
“True. Not enough, but considerable. But what kind of shape is my car going to be in when he’s through joyriding all over the country? Every ding in the door lowers its value by about ten thousand.”
“Dollars?”
“We ain’t talkin’ peanuts, doll.”
Anna winced. He sounded like a line of bad dialogue from an old gangster movie. Not that she watched such things on television, but she’d seen bits and pieces while changing channels to something a little more intellectually stimulating.
Thinking of the amount of money Ben owed Gavin made her slightly sick to her stomach. And Gavin claimed Ben owed other people, as well.
Then a new thought occurred. There was no way she could get Ben out of this newest predicament of his unless he brought that car back to Gavin Marshall in exactly the same condition it was in when he took it. She had nowhere near enough money to pay Gavin.
I can’t pay him.
Another feeling assailed her then—guilt. For she was suddenly, overwhelmingly, relieved to realize that her college money was safe. Sacrificing her savings would not begin to pay off what Ben could end up owing Gavin.
“Your brother owes me forty-six thousand dollars, and you’re smiling?”
Anna swung away from him and resumed putting away her groceries. She hadn’t been smiling.
Not really.
Surely not.
For supper Anna fixed herself a baked potato and small salad. She let Gavin fend for himself.
His idea of cooking was to microwave a frozen dinner.
Her plan was to pretend he was not there; to simply ignore his presence in hopes he would disappear. She was doing remarkably well at it, considering he had another baseball game blaring from the television. But when he carried his steaming plate of pasta toward her living room, she couldn’t help but protest. “You’re not taking that in there.”
“Oh, you’d rather I join you?” Gavin smiled to himself. He didn’t much like being ignored. He’d figured carrying a plate of messy pasta with marinara sauce into her pristine living room with its pale blue carpet would get a rise out of her. “Okay, sure.”
He could tell by the look on her face that she’d rather he’d drop off the face of the earth. He was going to have to do something about that. He didn’t much care for being disliked, either.
Then again, he didn’t normally force his way into a woman’s home and refuse to leave.
Well, except for that time three years ago, but that woman hadn’t wanted him to leave, he remembered with a secret smile.
“You find this situation amusing?” Anna asked him tersely.
His smile stretched wider. “Let’s just say I find it ironic.” With a shrug, he admitted, “I’m not used to being ignored, especially by the woman I’ve just moved in on.”
“You do this often? Move into a woman’s home uninvited?”
He thought a minute, then shook his head. “No, only once. But I was invited that time, and she sure as hell wasn’t trying to get rid of me my first day there. In the circles I move in, I’m actually considered quite a catch.”
Anna’s mouth tightened. “I’m sure.”
“Hey, it’s true. I’m fairly young, reasonably good-looking, rich. What’s not to love?”
“If you’re so rich, why don’t you just go buy yourself another car and forget about my brother?”
“Are you nuts?” he demanded. “You don’t just go buy another ’57 Vette like it was all packaged up on a shelf just waiting to go home with you. There aren’t that many of them lest. That’s why they’re worth so much money.”
She stared at him a moment, then blinked. “You mean, the car is an investment?”
Gavin studied her a moment, but couldn’t read what was going on behind those eyes. “Hell, yes, it’s an investment.”
“Must you use such language at the dinner table?”
“Jeez, Louise, you sound as prissy as some Victorian schoolmarm.”
“I assume you meant that as an insult, but I’ll remind you that this is my home and you aren’t welcome here. I have every right to object to objectionable language.”
She laid her fork carefully on the edge of her plate. As if, Gavin thought with grim humor, it was either that, or fling it at his head. Temper, temper.
“If you’d told me from the beginning,” she continued, “that your car was an investment, perhaps I would have understood more clearly why you’re here.”
Gavin shook his head in wonder. “Lady, you are just too much.”
The phone rang, interrupting whatever Anna had been about to say. Surprised, because receiving a phone call was a rarity for her, she rose from the table and answered it. With a puzzled look she turned and held the receiver out toward him. “It’s for you.”
“I hope you don’t mind.” He pushed back from the table and used his napkin to wipe marinara sauce from his mouth. “I had to leave my agent a number where I could be reached.”
Anna frowned. His agent?
She remembered then that he’d never answered her when she’d asked what he did for a living. Actors needed agents. So did writers and singers. He had a guitar, she remembered, so he must be a singer.
How had Ben come to get mixed up with someone who needed an agent?
She was still frowning at her uninvited houseguest when he took the receiver from her outstretched hand. They barely touched. Just a slight brushing of his fingers against hers. The hot, tingling spear that shot up her arm felt a great deal like the time she accidentally shocked herself while replacing a light switch in the den. Sharp. Startling. Her reaction was much the same as it had been then, too. She squeaked and jerked her hand away.
Anna wasn’t the only one who felt the charge. Gavin felt the shock of it zap along the nerves of his hand and arm and instinctively pulled back. The receiver fell and thumped against the floor. He stared at it a moment, frowning, then bent and touched it with one finger to make sure he wouldn’t get shocked again.
When nothing happened, he shrugged, chalked it up to some weird kind of static electricity, and picked up the phone. “Yeah?”
Still rubbing the side of her hand, Anna took a step back and turned away while he took his call.
“After what he did to the last one,” Gavin said into the phone, “I’d as soon record it myself, and I sound like I’m gargling with sand. Turn him down.” After another pause, he said, “I don’t care if he’s offering double that amount. That butcher’s not touching another one of my songs and that’s final... Bon Jovi? Him I’ll do business with. The man knows what to do with a good song... Yeah, yeah, right. Let
me know what happens.”
He hung up the phone and turned back toward the table.
“You’re a songwriter?”
Gavin somehow managed to frown and laugh at the same time. “Among other things. You make songwriting sound like it’s some type of alien life form.”
“I meant nothing of the sort.” Well, perhaps she had, but she hadn’t meant to offend him. But...a songwriter? “What type of songs do you write?”
“Rock.”
“Rock?” Anna blinked in surprise.
“As in rock and roll.”
“I know what you meant.”
“You don’t approve?”
Anna shrugged and turned back to her salad. “It’s not my place to approve or disapprove. What you do with your time is your business.”
“Ah,” he said as he resumed his seat across from her. “But you do disapprove. I see it in your face, hear it in your voice. You don’t like rock?”
“I haven’t paid attention to enough of it to have formed an opinion.” She did get an earful at work whenever she was in the break room the same time as Donna, but Anna deliberately tuned it out. All that screeching and hollering got on her nerves. “You said ‘among other things’?”
He gave a slight shrug. “I do a little composing on the side.”
“Composing? Composing of what?”
“Music.” His smile was tight and strained. “I start work next month composing the soundtrack for a motion picture.”
Impressed despite herself, all Anna could manage to say was, “Oh.”
“I imagine you consider that a little more legitimate than rock and roll.”
She bristled at his tone. “Maybe I do.”
In the process of scooping up another forkful of pasta, Gavin paused and stared at her out of one eye. “Maybe I’ve got the wrong house. Are you sure you’re Ben’s sister?”
Anna gave him a terse smile. “Quite sure. Of course he played rock-and-roll music in the house when he was growing up. I didn’t say I hadn’t heard it, only that I haven’t given it my attention. I usually have more important things to do than pay attention to—” she’d started to say “something so trivial,” but realized how insulting that would sound “—what kind of music my brother listens to.”
Until You Page 5