Sinful Suspense Box Set

by Tess Oliver

“I’m with Dad more. Our lives are much more connected. Dalton began distancing himself from us right after high school. Dad was really upset when he enlisted, and they just never patched things up completely after that. Dad seemed to think that Dalton had done it just to spite him.”

  “I don’t know if your dad told you, but he showed me the gold arm band.”

  He was wearing gloves, but it was easy to see that his grip tightened on the wheel, and not because of any hazard in the road. “Did he?” He spoke hesitantly.

  “He told me the entire story of how he came upon it. It’s a breathtaking piece. I’m sorry he has to hand it over to the university. I know he fought to keep it.”

  “Yeah, well, Dad is always the first to tell me that plenty of things in life are unfair.”

  The mounds of snow along the side of the road glowed beneath the clear night sky. It was nearly deserted. “Is this bar in the rear of an emporium?”

  “Karl’s Emporium, that’s right. Sundries by day and whiskey by night.” He pointed through the windshield. “There are the striped awnings up ahead. It should be crowded tonight. This band is popular.” He parked the car. “In fact, I’m sure this is where Dalton ended up.”

  I froze in the seat and stared at the entry to the saloon where people were standing hunched over and cross armed against the cold. Ethan stepped out and leaned down into the car. “It will be warmer inside with all the people. They have a place where you can check your coat.”

  I coaxed myself out of the front seat. “I’m definitely going to need a drink.”

  “That will help warm the blood too,” Ethan said, but I needed the drink for a completely different reason.

  The saloon was as most saloons tended to be, dark, dank and loud. Years of sweat, perfume, aftershave and alcohol vapors had permeated the rich wood paneling lining the walls of the room, and the odd mixture of scents floated in the moist air.

  The band struck up their version of the Rolling Stone’s song “Angie” as Ethan dragged me through the crowd to the bar. We reached a clearing at the counter. Ethan glanced down at me.

  “A beer is fine,” I said loudly.

  He leaned over and shouted our order to the girl behind the bar. Then he straightened and glanced around the room.

  I hopped up on my tiptoes and nearly yelled into his ear. “I thought you lived in a small town. I never would have expected there to be so many people in here.”

  “That’s because it is the only decent place for miles around.”

  The girl returned with two beers, and Ethan insisted on paying. He handed her some money, and she motioned across the room with her hand. “Dalton is over there in the corner booth. Didn’t know if you saw him yet.”

  Just hearing his name sent a slight tremor through me, which was definitely not a good sign.

  “Thanks,” Ethan said. He led me across the floor in the opposite direction from which the girl had motioned.

  We leaned against a small partition and drank our beers as we watched the band. They were four men in their mid to late thirties who knew how to capture the essence of the songs they sang. It was easy to see why they were popular. I could not stop myself from glancing in the direction the bartender had pointed. The dance floor was packed, and it was hard to get a clear view across. But then one couple moved toward the center and there he was, sitting in the darkest corner of the place and flanked on each side by girls. As upsetting as it was to see him with girls, it solidified in my mind that I’d made the right decision not to let him kiss me. Now I just needed my heart to feel that same level of confidence.

  “Guns and Roses,” Ethan said suddenly. “We’ve got to dance.”

  We set our beers down, and he walked me onto the dance floor. There was hardly room to move, and we swayed along with the motion of the other dancers just to avoid getting elbowed or tripped. The movement had done nothing to alleviate the case of nerves I’d developed from seeing Dalton, but I had defrosted nicely in the warmth of the crowd. Ethan was a fair dancer and it was obvious he had an ear for rhythm. I, on the other hand, had always felt completely awkward on the dance floor.

  “You’re a good dancer,” Ethan said graciously.

  I smiled. “No, I’m not, but you’re a gallant partner for putting up with me. My mom had forced me into ballet lessons when I was eight, and the very bitchy instructor told her I should pursue other interests after the third lesson.”

  “So what other interests did you pursue?”

  “Turned out I was pretty skilled at riding horses.”

  His face twisted a bit. “Ah yes, the rich girl’s favorite past time. My ex-girlfriend, Veronica, spoke of nothing else but her horses.”

  “Not every girl I rode with had money, just a love and passion for horses,” I said sharply, but it was too late. I’d innocently opened up an old wound. I’d really had a spectacular day of upsetting people.

  After a few minutes, Ethan seemed to relax. “My dad is a huge Guns and Roses fan. We used to listen to their tapes in his car, so I guess you could say I grew up on Axl Rose.”

  “Love their songs,” I said between being jostled about and trying to keep rhythm with the music. “But they aren’t too easy to dance to. I do better with slow songs,” I yelled the last words simultaneously with the ending of the song so everyone around us now knew that I danced better with slow music. And, if I had not been sufficiently embarrassed by my overloud declaration, everyone still stared openly at me.

  “Rocky,” a deep, familiar voice drawled from behind me, “play something slow.”

  Ethan sighed loudly and left the dance floor. It seemed all eyes were still on me as I turned around. The dim lighting in the saloon did not lessen the impact of seeing him. He lifted his hand and I took it. He pulled me against his hard chest, and his free hand wrapped around my back, hauling me even tighter against him. The speakers roared with music, but all I could hear was my heartbeat.

  He said nothing and his feet barely moved as we swayed to Bon Jovi’s “Bed of Roses”. I finally gathered my wits enough to peer up at him. He gazed down at my face through long, black lashes. “I didn’t think you were talking to me.”

  “I’m not. But I saw you dancing,” he paused, “you’re a terrible dancer by the way, and I decided I had to hold you.”

  “So, we’re going to dance without talking?”

  “Right.” He squeezed me tighter, and I pressed my face against his hard chest. His heart rate seemed as frenzied as mine. But, as usual, his exterior was cool and calm. My lack of dance talent and his bad leg made our movements awkward and stiff, but I could have danced that way all night as long as I was in his arms.

  I looked up at him again.

  He looked down at me. “You’re going to talk, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am. So, listen if you want, but you don’t have to say a word. Bon Jovi is my mom’s favorite band. My favorite picture of her was when she was in her twenties and she was back stage at one of their concerts. Her hair was a mess, and she looked wild and carefree. I think it’s the only time I’ve ever seen her look that way. It made me realize that somewhere under her prim and proper exterior she had a rebellious streak. Unfortunately, I’ve never seen it.”

  “How did she get backstage?” he asked.

  “Really, that’s what you got out of that? I just told you a deep feeling I had about my mom and you’re wondering how she got backstage?”

  He stared down at me waiting for an answer.

  I sighed. “Her father owned the venue they were playing at.”

  “The venue?”

  “It was a stadium, so there. Now you know. Both my parents are wildly rich. It was almost an arranged marriage. And, believe me, they are trying to pull the same shenanigans with me, but I’ve already made clear to them that I’m marrying for love.”


  He smiled down at me.

  “What are you grinning at?”

  “I just love that you use words like shenanigans.”

  “Are you saying I’m a dork?”

  “Sugarplum, if this is what a dork looks like—” his arms tightened around me, “and feels like then I should have been chasing dorks long ago.”

  I pressed my face against his chest to hide my blush. “I’ve never understood why Jon Bon Jovi wants to lay the girl down in a bed of roses. Roses are not the most inviting plant to plop down in.” I laughed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m being so ridiculously loquacious.”

  He ran his hand up my back. “I have no idea what that word means, but if it’s as hot as it sounds—”

  “It means chatty.”

  “That’s disappointing.”

  “Not everything is a vehicle for seduction.”

  “Too bad. The world might be a better place.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure that talking too much is the opposite of seductive.” I couldn’t stop an urge to reach up and rub my thumb along the black stubble on his chin.

  The green of his eyes deepened as he stared down at me. “It depends on what the person is saying.”

  “You really do have a knack for making every topic suggestive.”

  “Another gift. So, why are you being so talkative?”

  I lowered my face to his chest again. “Because you make me nervous,” I said quietly, but he heard every word. A room full of loud people swirled around us both on and off the dance floor but standing there in his arms, it was easy to forget the crowd. I suppose that was another gift of his.

  “I don’t mean to make you nervous. Maybe you would be more relaxed if you hadn’t already formed an opinion about me. And all based on Ethan’s word.” There was hurt in his tone.

  I kept my face pressed against him, breathing in his scent. “Opinions are meant to be changed.”

  His arms stayed tightly wrapped around me as we moved slowly to the song. “I don’t know how, Auggie. It seems like everything I want to say to you would just sound like a sales pitch.”

  The music ended but he didn’t drop his arms. I was sure he would kiss me and this time I would allow it. The resolve to keep my distance from him had never really been resolve at all. I’d been fooling myself to think I could resist a guy who was so completely irresistible. He lingered overlong on the dance floor, and his face lowered as he stared down at my lips. His mouth was so close to mine I could feel his breath. Then he straightened and my body relaxed with disappointment.

  We walked at his unique pace off the dance floor. Ethan was across the room. He’d made himself comfortable at the booth with the girls. “So, Ethan talked you into coming out tonight?”

  “Yeah, it had been a long day of inputting data,” I glanced pointedly at him, “and gingerbread baking. Besides, it seemed your dad really wanted the house to himself. He still had papers to grade.”

  He stopped and looked at me. “Is that what he told you?”

  I thought back to the conversation to be sure. “Yes, that’s what he said. Maybe he just wanted to be alone and that was the first excuse that came to him,” I added quickly. But there was still an edge of suspicion in his expression.

  “Dad cleaned his work out of my room yesterday morning. He’d said he was all done grading essays, so I could have the room to myself again.”

  “Maybe I misheard him then. Although—” I started to mention the car but then thought better of it.

  “What were you going to say?”

  “Nothing.” I walked forward but he grabbed my arm.

  “Tell me.”

  “It’s just that tonight when we drove down the road from your house, a car turned onto it, and it looked a lot like the car that we saw drive off after snowmobiling.”

  His expression darkened.

  “But I could be completely wrong. I know nothing about cars. And Ethan thought they were probably just lost.”

  “Cars don’t accidentally turn up that road.” He confirmed exactly what I’d thought. He looked across the room toward his brother. “Whatever the hell my dad is up to, Ethan is in on it.”

  I’d now successfully created more tension between the brothers, and Dalton pulsed with it as we approached the booth. The girls smiled congenially and scooted over for Dalton and me to slide in.

  Ethan looked at the girls. “Kate, Stacey, this is August. She’s helping my dad and me out with a project for the university.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said. They smiled again in return.

  Dalton picked up his beer and stared contemplatively at it for a moment before turning to his brother. My stomach clenched into a knot. “What was Dad up to tonight, Ethan?”

  “How should I know? Grading papers, I think.”

  Dalton shook his head and took a long sip of beer. The mug hit the table hard. “He finished grading papers. Auggie said that black car was heading back up to the house.”

  Ethan scowled at me.

  “I said a car was heading up the road.” Now it was my turn to scowl. “Dalton, you’re twisting my words.”

  “Sorry, you’re right.” But when the guy had something in his craw he didn’t let it go. “Pretty strange coincidence that a car just like the other one was heading toward the house, don’t you think, Ethan?” Anger floated across the table toward Ethan, and the girls wisely excused themselves.

  As Kate slid out, she stopped, leaned over and kissed Dalton on the mouth. “Let me know when you’re ready to leave.” I watched them scurry off and wondered if I should have followed them.

  “I’m getting a little tired of all this suspicious questioning, Dalton. Like I said, you’re never around, and you’ve made it clear that what Dad and I do doesn’t interest you, so drop the damn subject.”

  Dalton stared hard at his brother. “That makes it pretty fucking clear that something is up.” His friends, Kate and Stacy, were headed back across the floor to us, and I, for one, was relieved to see them. I hoped their return would break some of the tension.

  “Dalton, honey,” Kate said flirtatiously enough to make my toes curls in my boots, “we’re heading over to Tricia’s place for a get together. This place is way too crowded tonight.” She put her hand out, and my toes curled even more as Dalton took it and pushed to his feet.

  Dalton looked down at me and I forced a smile and waved. “Have a good time.” He looked slightly hurt by my easy dismissal of him, but, truthfully, there was nothing easy about it. I wanted him to stay, but it seemed my earlier rejection of his kiss was going to haunt me forever. And now, more than ever, I wanted that kiss.

  I watched Dalton take the long, arduous steps to the exit, a girl under each arm, and like always, it seemed as if all the energy in the room followed him out the door.

  Chapter 12

  Professor North had cooked a delicious breakfast from which Dalton had been noticeably absent. Ethan and I had left the saloon just hours after his brother’s departure. I’d had my quota of beer and as the night wore on, the music eventually went from sounding great to sounding loud and obnoxious. Ethan and I were both antiquities majors and we attended the same school, and yet, we’d had little to talk about. At one point during the rather long evening, his phone rang and he’d jumped up to answer it in the quiet of the restroom. I was sure it had been his ex-girlfriend, Veronica, and after a rather short conversation with her, Ethan had been so distracted he was even less entertaining.

  The large breakfast had made me sleepy, and I yawned and stretched before returning my fingers to the keyboard.

  “I’m afraid this work is even more boring with a hangover,” Ethan said from across the room where he had busied himself with a few books that had nothing to do with work.

  “It’
s the carbohydrate laden breakfast food rather than the beers,” I responded without looking away from the computer. “Makes me want to take a nap.”

  “My dad made enough to feed an army. I think he was expecting Dalton to be home.”

  I stared down at the keyboard, but the numbers had flown out of my head. Ethan seemed to notice that I’d been thrown off by his mention of Dalton.

  “I told you my brother jumps from girl to girl with no thought to their feelings.”

  I faced him. “That girl, Kate, invited him. Are you telling me she doesn’t know your brother? Because she seemed to know him quite well.”

  “They’ve been friends since high school.” He looked down and fingered the raised title on the book cover. “You’re right. Kate knows him very well. Besides, he’s probably smart not to take any girl too seriously. They are nothing but heartbreak.”

  “Uh, we’re not all that ruthless.”

  He tilted his head. “Really? Because as I recall, a young coed who went by the nickname, Auggie, very recently smashed the heart of Trenton Peters. Rumors were swirling like chocolate in a fudge ripple scoop of ice cream.”

  “Wow, our school really needs to provide more extracurricular activities. The student body has far too much time on their hands.” I sighed. “I really did try with Trenton, but he was so damn—”

  “Arrogant?”

  “Yeah, he dripped with condescension.”

  “Veronica had that problem too, but I could have easily overlooked it if she would have had enough backbone to stand up to her ultra-snobbish parents.”

  “You should consider yourself lucky then, Ethan. Every girl on campus dreams about you. You’ll find someone worthy of your love.”

  “Thanks, Auggie. But I don’t think it’s every girl.”

  “Well, all right then, ninety percent.”

  A smile split his face, and he stacked the books he’d been reading back on the shelf. “I was just about to go out and get some coffee. Would you like a cup?”