by Dawn Atkins
“Not at the moment.” She peeled away the cupcake paper. “I need to get on that. I didn’t realize I was so lonely. I have this great condo, but I treat it like a hotel. I’m living like a guest in my own life.” She stopped abruptly. “I don’t know why I said that. I hardly know you.”
“You know enough.”
“I guess so.”
Suddenly Duster jumped between them, dropping his head on Tara’s lap, flapping his tail on Candee’s.
“Duster just declared us friends,” Candee said.
“Smart dog.”
“Yeah,” she said, “though he never did any tricks for me.”
As if in response, Duster got up and reversed his position so his head was on Candee’s lap, his backside on Tara’s.
“It’s okay,” Candee said. “I forgive you, Duster.”
They smiled at each other over the dog. Finally Candee said, “So...do you hate those preppy shirts he wears as much as I do?”
They talked easily then, filling the distance between them with new camaraderie.
When Dylan came back, they were laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Dylan asked warily.
“You,” Candee said. “We were talking about you and The Wire.”
“Candee says you do the dialogue with voices. I told her about the time you sang the theme song on karaoke.”
“Great. Need a Sharpie to draw a target on my chest?”
Candee seemed to consider the idea. “Nah. I like that shirt. What do you think?” she asked Tara.
It was a light blue silk and Dylan looked gorgeous in it. “Not bad. You know they do have markers that are washable.”
“Oooh, good one.” Candee clicked her beer against Tara’s.
Dylan dropped into the love seat, his face red, though he seemed relieved. Maybe because Candee hadn’t gouged out Tara’s eyes. “Did you two go over the Wharton situation yet?”
“Not yet, no.” Tara looked at Candee. “You up for this?”
“If I can help, I will. Tell me what’s going on.”
“What we discuss can’t go beyond this room,” Tara said. “I don’t want to add to any rumors at Wharton. Today was my first day working there and I don’t want to get Joseph’s guard up.”
“I’ll keep it quiet. Don’t worry about that.”
“What I hope you can help me with is any irregularities in the financial pictures. My sister, my father and Joseph Banes were heard to be arguing in the days before the accident. I’m guessing it was related to cash-flow or taxes. Joseph’s behavior has been odd. He locked down my sister’s computer unexpectedly and might have taken files from my father’s home office. I need to know if he’s doing something questionable or illegal.
Candee nodded, thinking. “I know they asked for an extension on the quarterly tax payment. I heard my boss talking to Mr. Banes about it. That means penalties and interest. No one’s happy about that. Maybe that’s what the dispute was about. We had to put off the auditors, too.”
“Could be. But I’d like to know for sure.”
“I can look through my boss’s emails when he’s at lunch, if you want. See what’s come to him from Mr. Banes or Ms. Banes.”
“That would be great. As long as you don’t jeopardize your job. I’ve hit a lot of stone walls.”
“No sweat. He hits wrong keys a lot and asks me to restore his defaults. So I’m covered. Here’s another thing...I can get our IT guy to unlock your sister’s computer.”
“Would he tell Joseph?”
“Not if I ask him not to. We dated for a while.”
“I didn’t know that,” Dylan said.
“I don’t tell you everything,” she said. “You’re not my dad.”
“I don’t expect you to. I was surprised, that’s all.”
“Surprised anyone would date me? Is that it?”
“No. That’s not it.” Dylan was totally puzzled by Candee’s reaction, but Tara knew it was her nervousness about Adam. “Why are you getting so sensitive all of a sudden?”
“Why are you getting so nosy?”
Tara figured she could help out a little. “Hey, you two, you’re making me think you’re not friends anymore.”
“Of course we are,” Dylan said.
“So you’re glad Candee’s dating, right? You want her to find someone who will make her happy?”
“Absolutely.” He looked at Candee. “More than anything.”
“So you can get me off your back, right?” But she was smiling.
“Hell, no,” Tara threw in. “Where would he get great recipes like that beer-butt chicken? It was delicious.”
“He cooked for you? Wow.” Candee’s eyebrows lifted. “Now that’s interesting.”
“We had to talk through the case, so he cooked supper,” Tara said, but she was blushing and so was Dylan. “The point is, that you wish each other well, and Dylan would be happy to hear you’d found someone special, Candee.” She leveled her gaze at Candee.
“Okay,” she said. “Now that you mention it, there is a guy I met. Adam Baylor. I met him at a Home Parties Association meeting. He’s the regional director. We’ve been dating for a month and I like him a lot.”
“Oh.” Dylan blinked, not speaking, clearly surprised.
Tara kicked his foot. “And...?”
He got it. “And that’s great. I’m happy for you, Candee.”
“You are?” She looked doubtful.
“I am.” Dylan had adjusted to the news and his answer was clearly true. “Very much so.”
“Told you,” Tara said.
“You did.” Candee gave Tara a high-five and blew out a breath. “I’m glad that’s over.”
“So...you two discussed this?” Dylan asked, totally puzzled by the conversation. “While I was...”
“Changing your shirt, right,” Candee said. “That’s how we roll, right, Tara?” She snapped her fingers quickly.
Tara laughed. She really did like Candee. “Anyway, I appreciate your help at Wharton. Anything you find out, give me a call.” She gave Candee her cell number. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Oh, I think you can. Come to my candle party next week.”
“A candle party?” Dylan had been right about this.
“They’re a blast. We have all kinds—tea, pillars, tapers, scented, unscented. Something for everyone. You’ll like my friends. Plus, you can meet Adam. He’ll be there. So will Dylan, right?”
“Me? Uh—” He looked like he’d rather eat glass shards.
“You have to come. Melissa Sutherland’s cousin will be there—Jessica, one of your shipping clerks? You know her?”
“No, I don’t.”
“She’s cute and she just broke up with her boyfriend.”
Dylan held up a hand. “I’ll buy candles, but no setups. I’m not interested.”
“No?” She looked from Dylan to Tara and back, drawing conclusions that Tara could guess at and hoped Candee wouldn’t voice. “Fine by me,” she finally said. “You’re tied up at the moment.”
“I’m not—” Dylan started to object, but his face glowed red.
“Whatever,” Candee said. “I leave you to it then.” She jumped up and they walked her to the door. “Adam wants to try out some samples he got for this new home sales opportunity. Sex toys! Bye.” Then she was gone.
Dylan shut the door and they looked at each other.
“I’m glad she’s got a guy, but that last bit was too much information.”
“Are you glad?” Tara asked. “You hesitated.”
“I was surprised she hadn’t mentioned it earlier. It’s a relief. Sometimes I got the feeling she was still holding out hope for us.”
“You’re pretty tough to get over,” Tara said. “Speaking from experience.”
“So are you,” he said, and their eyes locked. Here they were again, alone at his house, and the attraction hummed like a wire between them.
“Candee thinks we’re still hung up on each other,” Tara
said.
“She wouldn’t be wrong.”
“No, she wouldn’t. I should go,” Tara said. They’d accomplished their purpose.
“You could. Or you could finish your beer and your cupcake.” He nodded at the table.
Then she thought of a legitimate reason to stay. “Actually there’s something else we could discuss.”
“Great.” They moved to the sofa and sat, close, bodies leaning in. “What’s up?”
“It looks like you and I will be working together.”
“Yeah?”
“Our operations VP asked me to mediate the conflict between our testing department and your engineers.”
Dylan tensed. “How did that get decided?”
“It was after I mediated an ongoing dispute between our assembly-line manager and the shipping manager.”
“That’s great, I’m sure, but our disagreement is based on technical issues.”
“Partly, for sure. You all have the answers between you. My job will be to manage the meeting in a way that allows the real issues to surface, get discussed, then options offered and selected.”
“Sounds good in theory. And I’m sure you’re good at what you do, but the issue is that we’ve done all we can by boosting our testing and increasing production. Our process is different than Wharton’s. It’s apples to oranges. We’re at loggerheads. Jeb says their procedures and equipment are proprietary, so we’re shut out.”
“I see what you mean.” She thought about that. “How about this? What if we brought the Wharton engineers out to Ryland and you could show them your processes. After the tour, we’d meet and discuss the situation.”
Dylan considered that. “It’s worth a try. I’m at my wit’s end.”
“Let’s do that. I’ll talk to Jeb, you fill in your guys, then we’ll set up the visit.”
“It’s a plan.” He smiled. “So you got shipping talking to assembly? I gotta say that’s impressive. I hope you can do the same for us.”
“That’s my hope,” she said.
“It’s crucial to the company that we get this sorted out. A lot hangs in the balance.”
“I realize that. I do.” That put lots of pressure on her. Joseph would be evaluating her based on how this came out, she knew, and Dylan’s company’s future hung in the balance. She knew she was good. She knew her processes worked. She would trust them and herself.
Time to go. There was no reason to stay except to torture themselves. Just as she leaned forward to stand, Dylan put his arm across the back of the sofa, nonverbally urging her to stay. She leaned back.
“You two sure covered a lot of ground while I put on a clean shirt,” he said.
“When you tell the truth, things move fast. I like Candee. She gives you hell.”
“You would like that.” He squeezed her shoulder, setting off a charge along her nerves, pops and flashes going every which way. She noticed the crinkles outside his eyes, the square line of his jaw, the way a lock of hair hung over his forehead, the crisp line of his lips. He seemed to be taking her in, too.
“Here we are again,” she said softly. The minute they were alone together, their connection kicked in.
“Here we are.” Embers flared beneath the smoky gray of his eyes. Her own body seemed to be liquefying.
“I should go home.”
“Do you want to?” he asked in that low, sexy voice.
“No. I don’t.” Why lie?
“I don’t want you to leave.” He touched a strand of her hair.
“We’re playing with fire.” She started to tremble.
“I realize that.”
Tara knew that look, recognized the tilt of his head, the parting of his lips. The next move was obvious: his lips hot on hers, his hands searing her through her clothes. All she had to do was shift slightly forward, offer herself, and they would surrender to each other, to the yearning they’d felt since they had seen each other again.
Her cell phone buzzed. Just like the day of the funeral on the hummingbird terrace, she took out her phone and saw Rita’s cell number on the display. She almost laughed. “You won’t believe this, but it’s Rita again. She’s got a sixth sense for keeping me out of trouble with you.”
Dylan fell back, away from her. Smiling, she said, “Hi, Rita! What’s up?”
“You’ll want to get here as quick as you can,” Rita said flatly. “Faye went into cardiac arrest. They revived her, but she’s not stable. Her husband and your mother are on their way.”
Tara’s entire body went electric. “Is she dying?” Her voice cracked.
“Just get here. Are you safe to drive?”
“Am I safe to drive...?” She caught Dylan’s gaze.
“I’ll take you,” he said.
Ice cold, her head buzzing, she told Rita she’d be there and hung up. “Faye’s heart stopped,” she said, her tongue thick in her mouth. “They brought her back, but they don’t know if she’ll live.”
“Let’s go,” he said, standing, giving her a hand to help her up. He gave her her purse, then guided her into his garage and held the door for her to climb up into his SUV. She was glad he was with her. Faye and Dylan had been heart and home to her. Tonight she might lose one of them forever.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DYLAN PUSHED THE SUV above the speed limit, but Tara leaned forward, silently urging him to go faster. He roared through yellow lights and took turns so fast his tires squealed. It was warm in the car, but Tara was shaking with chills, gulping big breaths, her vision edged with gray. Every muscle was tight, as if her body believed that as long as she held on, Faye would, too. Don’t die, Faye. Don’t die. Please don’t leave me. The words were a mantra, a prayer in her head.
“If I lose her, I don’t know what I’ll do,” she said, staring straight ahead.
“She’s getting the best care there is. They’ll save her if they can.”
Tara hung on to his words, needing them to be true. Hurry! Hurry! She twisted her fingers in her lap as if that would make the wheels turn faster. Dizzy from lack of oxygen, she gulped more air, but it didn’t seem to help. She felt like she was breathing for Faye.
Dylan parked near the emergency entrance and they dashed inside, then had to wait for the elevator. She kept jabbing the call button as if that would make the slowest elevator on the planet get there sooner.
Dylan took her hand and squeezed it. “Whatever you need from me, you’ve got it. Anything.” His eyes brimmed with worry...and love.
Throat too tight to speak, she nodded. She felt abruptly steadier, stronger somehow, and her breathing evened out. She wasn’t alone. Dylan was with her.
In the ICU waiting room, Joseph and Rachel rose from their chairs to greet them, both ghostly pale.
“They found an aneurysm,” Joseph said. “She’s in surgery now.”
“How long?” Tara’s voice cracked.
Dylan put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed.
“No idea. We’re waiting for the surgeon to come out,” Joseph said.
Dylan walked Tara to a chair and they sat together. There were a half-dozen people in the waiting area, talking, reading or looking dazed. Dylan still held her hand. He rubbed slow circles on her back. That contact seemed to be the only thing that kept her sane.
They waited, the minutes ticking by like hours. Tara’s mother stared stonily ahead, her hair trembling from the tension in her thin body. Joseph fidgeted and paced, arms and legs disjointed as if he couldn’t feel them.
Finally a man in green scrubs stepped into the waiting area. “Joseph Banes?” He spoke to the room. Joseph stopped in his tracks. “That’s me.”
The rest of them jumped to their feet.
“It went as well as we could expect,” the doctor said. “She’s stable for now.”
“Is she still in danger?” Tara asked, her voice a thin thread of sound.
“Not immediately, no.” That was as encouraging as the man was going to get, Tara realized. Faye was alive. Tara had to
hang on to that. As long as Faye breathed, there was hope.
“Can we see her?” Tara asked.
“Briefly, yes. If the ICU nurses give you the go-ahead.”
Joseph and Rachel went in first, her mother’s movements almost zombie-like. When they returned a few minutes later, Tara and Dylan took their place at Faye’s bedside. She looked terrible, her skin gray, all makeup gone, an elastic mark outlining her face from the paper cap she’d worn during the surgery. The gauze pad across her collarbone was stained with blood and Betadine. As if he could read Tara’s discomfort, Dylan folded under a blood-streaked section of sheet.
Tara picked up Faye’s hand. “Fight your way back, Faye. Don’t die. Please, don’t die.” Her voice trembled. She sounded like a desperate child, but she didn’t care. When the nurse asked them to leave, she let Dylan guide her into the empty hall.
“What if she dies?” she asked him.
“You’ll handle it,” he said, brushing her hair from her cheek. “You’re tough and brave. You’ll do what you need to do. And you have me. Don’t forget that. I’m here. Always.”
“You are,” she said. His steady gaze, his calm support made her feel like she could handle anything. “You are here.” Her heart filled up and spilled over. “I love you, Dylan. I never stopped loving you.”
He sucked in a breath, startled. “Same here. The more I deny it, the more I know it’s true.” They held each other’s gaze, letting their words sink in, grab hold, change everything between them.
When they rejoined the others, Joseph stood. “Your mother needs to go home,” he said to them. “Would you take her? I’ll stay the night.”
Tara saw that her mother looked ready to collapse. She made Joseph promise to call if anything changed, then they took her mother to Dylan’s Land Rover. Her mother seemed totally wrecked. All the way back, Tara tried to get her mother to talk, but nothing worked. At the house, Tara went around to help her mother step down from the SUV. She shook off her arm and got out shakily.
“I’ll make you some tea,” Tara said. “We’ll get through this together.”
“No, we won’t. I won’t have it. Not from you, I won’t.” Her mother’s eyes flashed fire. “I won’t have you hovering over me, pitying me. You don’t want to be here. You don’t belong here. Please go. Leave me in peace.” She stalked up the stairs.