by Nora Roberts
thought he would be. That's all right then."
"Come inside." He shifted her, keeping her close to his side. "Tell me everything."
Tyler swung behind the police cruiser with a harsh scream of brakes. In the flashing lights, Sophia watched him stride over the road. She could see him well enough to recognize rage. As calmly as she could, she turned away from the cop who was interviewing her and walked toward him.
He grabbed her fast enough, hard enough to knock the breath out of her. Nothing had ever felt so safe.
"I was hoping you'd come. I was really hoping."
"Did you get banged up any?"
"No. The Jeep, on the other hand… I think I blew the transmission. Ty, I didn't have any brakes. They were just gone. I know they're going to tow it in and check it out, but I already know."
The words poured out of her, shaky at first, then gaining strength, gaining temper. "It wasn't an accident. It wasn't some mechanical failure. Somebody wanted to hurt me, and they didn't care if my mother and Maddy got hurt, too. Goddamn it, she's just a little girl. Tough, though. Tough and smart. She told me to downshift. She doesn't even know how to drive."
The rage would have to wait. He'd have to wait to break something in half, to plow his fist into something, anything. Sophia was trembling, and needed tending.
"Kid knows something about everything. Get in the car. Time for somebody else to take the wheel."
A little dazed now, she glanced behind her. "I think they still want to talk to me."
"They can talk to you tomorrow. I'm taking you home."
"Fine by me. I have some shopping bags."
He smiled, and his grip on her loosened to a caress. "Of course you do."
* * * * *
He meant what he'd said about taking her home. His home. When she didn't argue the point, he figured she was more shaken than she'd admitted. He dumped her shopping bags in the foyer, then wondered what the hell to do with her.
"You want, like, a hot bath, a drink?"
"How about a drink in a hot bath?"
"I'll take care of it. You ought to call your mother, let her know you're back. And you'll be staying here."
"All right, thanks."
He dumped half a tube of shower gel that had been around since Christmas into the tub. It smelled like pine, but it bubbled. He figured she'd want bubbles. He stuck a couple of candles on the counter. Women went for candlelit baths, for reasons he couldn't fathom. He poured her a glass of wine, set it on the lip of the tub and was standing back, trying to figure out what else to do when she stepped into the bathroom.
Her single huge sigh told him he'd already hit the mark.
"MacMillan, I love you."
"Yeah, so you said."
"No, no, at this moment—this exact moment, no one has ever, will ever love you more. Enough to let you get in with me."
In a tub full of bubbles? He didn't think so. And if he could overlook the mortification of that for the obvious benefits, she looked beat.
"I'll take a pass on this one. Strip and get in."
"You romantic bastard. A half hour in here and I'll feel human again."
He left her to it and went down to get her things. To his way of thinking, if he dumped her shopping loot in the bedroom, it would take her that much longer to run off again. As far as he was concerned, this was the first stage of her moving in.
He grabbed her purse, her briefcase, four—Jesus Christ—four loaded shopping bags, and started back up with them. As long as he kept busy, he told himself, did what came next, he wouldn't give in to the fury choking him.
"What'd you buy? Small slabs of granite?" He tossed them on the bed, considered the job done, and her briefcase tumbled off. He grabbed for it, managed to snag the strap and, upending it, dumped out most of the contents.
Why did anyone need so much junk in a briefcase? Resigned, he crouched and began to gather it up again. Okay, he could see the bottle of water, her bulging Filofax, the electronic memo deal. The pens, though, God knew why she needed a half dozen of them. Lipstick.
Idly he uncapped it, swiveled the tube out. One sniff and he tasted her.
Travel scissors. Hmmm. Post-its, paper clips, aspirin, a powder-puff thing, a fingernail thing, other assorted girl things that made him wonder why she bothered to carry a purse as well, and what the hell she put in it. Breath mints, a little bag of unopened candy, a mini-tape recorder, Wet Naps, matches, a couple of floppy disks and some file folders, a pair of Hi-Liters and a bottle of clear nail polish.
Amazing, he decided. It was a wonder she didn't walk crooked once she strapped it over her shoulder. Just passing the time, he flipped through the file folders as he replaced them. She had a tear sheet of the first ad, a comp of the second, a ream of scribbled notes and a stack of typed ones.
He found the press releases, with the notes scribbled over them. Lips pursed, he read the English version and found it solid, strong and smart.
He'd expected nothing else.
Then he found the altered ad.
Holding it, and a copy of an envelope addressed to her, he came straight up. He was still holding them when he shoved open the bathroom door.
"What the hell is this?"
She'd nearly fallen asleep. When she blinked the first thing she saw was his furious face. And the second the sheets in his hands.
"What were you doing in my briefcase?"
"Never mind that. Where did you get this?"
"In the mail."
"When?"
A hesitation, brief but long enough to let him know she was considering a cover.
"Don't bother jiving me, Sophie. When did you get this?"
"Yesterday."
"And you were planning to show it to me… when?"
"In a couple of days. Look, would you mind if I finish up in here before we discuss this? I'm naked and covered with boy bubbles."
"A couple of days?"
"Yes, I wanted to think about it and I went to the police with it. To Linc just today so I could get a legal opinion. I can handle it, Ty."
"Yeah." He looked at her, up to her chin in froth, her face haunted by shadows of fatigue. "You're a real handler, Sophia. I guess I forgot that part."
"Ty—" She slapped a fist on the water when he walked out and closed the door. "Just wait a minute." She got out of the tub and, rather than drying off, just wrapped a towel around herself. She went after him, leaving a trail of water and bubbles.
She called him again, cursed him and heard the back door slam shut as she raced downstairs.
She slapped on the outside lights, saw that his long, angry strides were carrying him toward the vineyards. Tightening her grip on the knotted towel, she ran outside.
Her bare foot came down hard on a small stone, inspiring a fresh string of curses as she continued in a limping run.
"Tyler! Just wait a damn minute." She hurled insults at his back until she realized she was using Italian and they might as well have been promises of undying love to his ear. "Listen, you idiot, you coward. You stop where you are and fight like a man."
Because he stopped, whirled around, she all but plowed straight into him. She pulled up short, puffing like a steam engine and hopping to take the weight off her sore foot. "Where do you think you're going?" she demanded.
"You don't want to be near me now."
"Wrong." To prove it she tapped a fist on his chest. "You want to take a shot at me, fine." She angled her chin. "I'd rather somebody take an honest punch than walk away."
"As tempting as that is, and believe me I'm in the mood to punch something, I don't hit women. Go back in the house. You're wet and half-naked."
"I'll go back when you go back. In the meantime we can have this out right here. You're mad because I didn't come running to you over that nasty bit of business. Well, I'm sorry, I did what I thought best about it."
"You're half-right. You did what you thought best, but you're not sorry. I'm surprised you bothered to call me tonight jus
t because somebody tried to kill you."
"Ty, it's not the same thing. It's just a stupid picture. I wasn't going to let it upset me, or you, or anyone."
"You weren't going to let. There you go. Teamwork, my ass."
He was shouting now, such a rare occurrence she could only stare up at him. A big, furious man who'd finally snapped his leash.
"You decide what you'll give, how much and when. Everyone's supposed to fall in line with your schedule, your plan. Well, fuck it, Sophie. Fuck that. I just stepped out of line. Goddamn it, I love you." He hauled her up on her toes, calloused hands against pampered skin. "You're it for me. If it's not the same on both sides, it's nothing. Do you get it? Nothing."
Furious with both of them, he dropped her back on her feet. "Now go inside and get dressed. I'll take you home."
"Please don't. Please," she said, touching his arm as he started to walk by her. "Please, God. Don't walk away." The shakes were back, but had nothing to do with fear for her life. This was so much more. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that by not doing something I thought would worry you, I did something to hurt you. I'm used to taking care of myself, used to making my own decisions."
"That's not how it works anymore. If you can't deal with that, we're wasting our time."
"You're right. And you're scaring me because I understand this is important enough to make you walk away from me. I don't want that to happen. You're right and I was wrong. I wanted to handle it my way, and I was wrong. Yell at me, curse at me, but don't push me out."
His temper had peaked and ebbed and, as always, left him feeling annoyed with himself. "You're cold. Let's go inside."
"Wait." His voice was so final, so distant. It tied knots in her belly. "Just listen."
She gripped his arm, her fingers digging desperately into his shirt. If he turned away now, she knew she'd be alone as she'd never been alone before in her life.
"I'm listening."
"I was angry when it came. All I could think was that the bastard, I know it's Jerry, the bastard's using my own work to taunt me. To try to scare me, and I'm not going to let him. I'm not going to let him worry me, or my mother or anyone I care about. I thought I could handle it myself and protect you from the worry. And I realize standing here right now that if you'd done the same thing, I'd be just as hurt, just as angry as you are."
Her voice hitched, and she feared she'd sob. Unfair tactics, she reminded herself and bit down on grief. "I love you. Maybe that's the one thing I don't know how to handle. Not yet. Give me a chance to figure it out. I'm asking you not to walk away from me. It's the one thing I can't take. Needing someone, loving them and watching them walk away."
"I'm not your father." He cupped a hand under her chin. He saw the tears brimming, and her valiant attempt to hold them off. "And neither are you. My being there for you, taking some of the weight doesn't make you weak. It doesn't make you less, Sophie."
"He always let someone else deal with the sticky parts." She drew in a breath, let it out shakily. "I know what I'm doing, Ty, when I push people back so I can deal with problems on my own. I know what I'm trying to prove. I even know it's stupid and self-serving. But I can't always seem to stop doing it."
"Practice." He took her hand. "I told you before I'd stick, didn't I?"
A shudder ran through her. "Yes, you did." To steady herself, she brought their joined hands to her cheek. "I've never been it for anyone before. No one's been it for me. Looks like you are."
"That works for me. We square now?"
"I guess we are." Her lips curved. He made things so simple, she thought. All she had to do was let him. "It's been a hell of a night so far."
"Let's go back, finish it off." He slid an arm around her to lead her back to the house, automatically taking her weight as she limped.
Served her right, he thought, riling him up the way she had. "Hurt your foot?"
The amused and satisfied tone didn't escape her notice. "I stepped on a rock while I was running after this big, stupid culo."
"Which would be me. I understand enough gutter Italian to know when the woman I love's calling me an asshole."
"But very affectionately. Since you're up on the language, why don't we finish the night off by…" She rose up to whisper in his ear, ending the provocative Italian with a quick nip on his lobe.
"Ummm." He didn't have a clue what she'd said, but the blood had cheerfully drained out of his head. "I think I'm going to need a translation on that one."
"Happy to," she said. "Once we're inside."
It surprised Pilar to see Tyler outside the kitchen door at what she imagined he'd consider the middle of the morning. It surprised her a great deal more to see the bouquet of flowers in his hand.
"Good morning."
"Hi." He stepped inside the Cutter kitchen, nearly shuffled his feet. "I didn't expect to see you here or I'd've…" Embarrassed, he shook the flowers in his hand. "You know, brought more."
"I see. You brought them for Maddy? Ty." Delighted with him, she reached up, squeezed his cheeks. "You're so sweet."
"Yeah, right. Well. How're you feeling?"
"Fine. Lucky." She stepped toward the inside doorway and called for Maddy. "Sophia was amazing. Steady as a rock."
"Yeah, that's Sophie. I gave her a break, left her sleeping this morning." He looked over as Maddy came in. "Hi, kid."
"Hey. What're those?"
"I think they're flowers. For you."
Her eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. "Me?"
"I have to go. I'll just say goodbye to David and Theo." Pilar kissed Maddy lightly, absently on the cheek, and made the girl's color come up. "See you later."
"Yeah, okay. How come they're for me?" she asked Tyler.
"Because I hear you did good." He held them out. "You want them or not?"
"Yeah, I want them." She took them, noted the little flutter in her belly as she sniffed. A kind of muscle reflex, she supposed it was. A nice one. "Nobody ever gave me flowers before."
"They will. I figured I'd get you something for your brain, too, but I haven't come up with it yet. Anyway, what did you do to your hair?"
"I cut it. So?"
"So… just asking." He waited while she got out a vase. The new do made her look like a brainy pixie, Ty thought. Boys, he realized with a little tug of regret, were going to come sniffing at the door. "You want to hang with me today? I've got to check for mildew, then see how the work's going over at the old distillery. Start on the weeding."
"Yeah, that'd be good."
"Tell your dad."
When she was settled in the car beside Tyler, Maddy folded her hands on her lap. "I've got two things I want to ask you."
"Sure. Shoot."
"If I were, like, ten years older and had actual breasts, would you go for me?"
"Jesus, Maddy."
"I don't have a crush on you or anything. I sort of did when we first moved here, but I got over it. You're too old for me, and I'm not ready for a serious relationship, or sex."
"Damn right you're not."