Words of Seduction

by Dara Girard

  He let out a fierce sigh. “Look, I really could use your help.”

  She sat down intrigued. “Why should I help you?”

  “Okay, so I may not have been the best husband, but I did take care of you.”

  “Your women weren’t the only reason I left.”

  “I know and you wouldn’t have been able to write your book without me.”

  “What?” Suzanne said, shocked.

  “I gave you insight that you wouldn’t have known otherwise. You’re lucky I didn’t sue for part of your royalties.”

  “It’s fiction!”

  He glanced around nervous. “Keep your voice down.”

  “You want to sue me?”

  “No, honey, but you have to admit that I helped you. There’s enough fact in your book to make people nervous.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The Lowell case. You based your book on that case, almost every detail was the same except you changed the outcome.”

  A sense of anxiety gripped her. He was right. She had. Beneath the Ashes was a story about how a small, tight-knit community and its key residents dealt with the outcome of a murder trial. She’d had so many mixed emotions about the real murder that had happened in Anadale, but through fiction she’d been able to come up with some answers. She let her anxiety ease. It was still just a story and nothing more. “It’s fiction. And that’s all.”

  She stood, but when she moved to leave, Wallace leaped up and grabbed her arm, his hand like a vise. “Don’t rush off, Suzanne. I know things that might interest you. If you want more dirt on this town I can give it to you.”

  “Let go of me.”

  His grip tightened making her wince. “Not until you agree that you owe me something.”

  She ignored the pain and glared up at him. “I don’t owe you anything.”

  “Life doesn’t work that way. You can’t come back into town and think nothing has changed. I heard that Gordon’s interested in Trellis Court, but do you know why he’s interested?”

  “Suzanne, there you are!” Claudia’s bright voice broke in. “Come and join us.”

  Noreen smiled from behind her.

  Wallace loosened his grip and Suzanne yanked herself free, rubbing her arm.

  Claudia sent him a cool look. “Who is your friend?”

  Suzanne made introductions, glad for the reprieve. “Claudia, Noreen, this is Wallace, my ex-husband. Wallace Lyon, better known as ‘Who’s Wallace lying with now’?”

  Wallace’s welcoming grin froze on his face.

  “Wallace, this is Claudia and Noreen.”

  Noreen held out her hand. “Better known as her best friends who will hunt you down like a rottweiler if you hurt her.”

  Wallace shook her hand and put on his Southern charm. “A pleasure, ladies. And you have nothing to worry about. I never hurt the things I treasure.”

  “For a lawyer you lie very badly.”

  Claudia shoved Noreen aside. “Ignore her. She’s going through a bad divorce.” She gently brushed invisible fuzz from his shoulder and Wallace’s frozen smile slowly became real. “I can tell you’re the type of man women can trust.” Before Noreen could protest, Claudia looped her arm through Suzanne’s. “But we really have to go and it’s been such a long time since we last saw Suzanne so I hope you don’t mind if we steal her away?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “No, of course you don’t. Thank you.” She hurried Suzanne over to her table and sat down. “Aren’t you glad that we’re here?”

  “I didn’t need rescuing,” she lied, with a plastic smile, “but thanks anyway.”

  “Why did you have to tell him about my divorce?” Noreen said.

  “Because you don’t insult a man when you want something.” She rested her chin in her hand. “Now let’s get some food and talk.”

  Moments later the three women sat with glasses of pink lemonade and an assortment of appetizers. Although Suzanne had found Wallace’s request somewhat threatening, she soon dismissed the whole incident from her thoughts.

  “So, how are things?” Noreen finally said.

  Claudia lifted her drink, a devious smile on her lips. “Better yet, who is he?” She looked directly at Suzanne.

  Noreen turned to her. “Why do you think it’s a man?”

  “Only a man would make Suzanne nearly miss a major book signing.”

  “I’m sure there’s another explanation. She’s stressed because she has to sell her father’s house.”

  They both turned to Suzanne and waited with expectation.

  Suzanne bit her lip, wondering if she should lie, then decided against it. “A man I used to know came by the house yesterday.”

  “Why?” Noreen asked.

  Claudia shook her head as though her friend was crazy. “Because he wanted to see her.”

  “No,” Suzanne said. “He wanted to buy the house.” When Claudia looked unconvinced she continued. “You know the guy I told you about? The one I used to know?”

  They stared at her blankly.

  “My summer incident.”

  “Rick Gordon?!” the two women said in unison.

  “Stay away from him,” Noreen said, knowing the reputation Suzanne had shared about him.

  “Why?” Claudia countered. “He might be a nice diversion.”

  Noreen looked at her, appalled. “I can’t believe you write books about relationships when you don’t know anything.”

  “I know plenty.”

  “Which is why you’ve never married or had a relationship last longer than a year.”

  “At least I’ve never been divorced.”

  “Only because you’re too afraid to commit so you choose men who won’t commit to you.”

  Suzanne held up her hands. “Let’s not fight about this. Let’s just agree that we haven’t had the best of success when it comes to men.”

  “I admit it,” Noreen said. “At least I don’t advise others about it.”

  Claudia raised a brow. “You just write love stories you don’t believe in.”

  Suzanne grabbed her handbag. “I don’t need this.”

  “Okay,” Noreen said quickly. “We’re sorry.”

  Claudia lowered her voice. “Tell us more about Rick.”

  Suzanne set her handbag aside. “There’s not much to say.”

  “You had plenty to say when you told us about him last time.”

  “Only because I was describing the past. It’s different now. I know this man and he’s not interested in me. He wants property and that’s all he came for.” And to let me know that he’s still sexy, still dangerous, rich and completely out of reach. “There’s nothing going on. It was just a shock to see him again.”

  Noreen adjusted her glasses. “A good shock or a bad one?”

  “A little of both.”

  Claudia grinned. “The best kind.”

  Chapter 5

  Suzanne pulled up into her driveway and stared at the lawn in dismay. It needed to be mowed—desperately. Unfortunately, she’d have to do it herself. It didn’t matter that she’d never mowed in her life or that grass cuttings made her eyes water. The house was beginning to look like a neglected relic and she knew image was everything. She remembered the days when the gardeners would come once a week to make sure that the bushes were trimmed and the grass was the right height—two inches. Her mother would use a ruler to make sure. Four hundred and sixty-eight Trellis Court always looked perfect and pristine. Not anymore. Dandelions and onion grass sprouted boldly through the soil and the lawn stood at an unruly height of over two inches.

  Resigned, Suzanne went to the old shed out back and pulled on a pair of faded overalls over her brightly colored orange tank top and grabbed a disposable paper mask from off the shelf. Initially she tried to work the riding mower, but it wouldn’t start so she had to use the gasoline powered one. When she discovered that the mower was empty, Suzanne made a quick trip to the gas station and filled up. It was late afternoon before sh
e got started.

  After three attempts to get it started, Suzanne smiled with satisfaction when the mower finally roared to life, and began to cut the grass. She ignored her watering eyes and the fact that her lungs had began to feel tight. All she had to do was the front lawn. She imagined how good it would look when she was done. But after a half hour the mower started to smoke and shake.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Rick’s angry voice demanded. He pushed her aside and turned the machine off. “Do you know how dangerous that is? This thing is a time bomb.”

  “Dangerous what is?” Suzanne wheezed, surprised she could still talk.

  He stared at her for a moment before suddenly swinging her up in his arms.

  She gasped then began to cough. “What are you doing?” she eventually managed to say.

  He didn’t reply. Instead he took her back inside the house and laid her on the couch. He removed her mask and threw it on the ground. “Why the h—” He took a deep breath before speaking, his tone losing some of its edge. “Why were you mowing the lawn when it’s obvious you’re allergic to grass cuttings?”

  “I—”

  He shook his head and swore. “Never mind. Don’t talk. I have to take care of you first. Your eyes are swelling shut and your breathing’s bad. Let me get you some ice.”

  Suzanne lay on the couch trying to figure out what was happening. What was he doing there? He remembered that she was always teary-eyed around grass cuttings, but how did he know she was allergic? She had never been diagnosed. Her father had just thought it was her excuse to stay inside and avoid outdoor parties she didn’t want to attend. The thought that she was allergic surprised her. But before she could think about it any more Rick returned.

  Suzanne felt the shift of the cushions as he sat down. He lifted her head and placed it on his lap. She didn’t have the energy to fight him or the comforting feeling that followed his touch. Soon she felt the cool sensation of an ice cube against her lips. “Swallow this to help with the inflammation,” he said.

  She didn’t argue, she was in too much pain and could hardly see him. She didn’t want to imagine what she looked like. After a while she didn’t care as she felt his large, warm hands on her forehead and another ice cube in her mouth. Soon she let the weight of her exhaustion overcome her and drifted off to sleep.

  When she woke up, the room was eerily still. She saw the setting sun cast rays of light through the blinds. She sat up and looked outside and saw Rick’s car in the driveway, but she didn’t see him. She was about to turn and look for him when she noticed the lawn and her mouth fell open. It was completely mowed. Even the bushes had been trimmed. For an instant she was in the past when Trellis Court was at its full glory. In the background she could hear her mother humming as she arranged a bouquet, and hear her father barking orders over the phone, and smell fresh bread seeping through the kitchen as Neena prepared the evening meal.

  “Good, you’re up.”

  Suzanne turned around and saw Rick standing in the doorway wearing only his jeans. His feet and chest were bare as he dried his hair with one of her towels. When she continued to stare at him, he frowned. “Are you upset because I used your shower?”

  She pointed out the window. “Did you do that?” she asked, her voice still weak.

  He nodded.

  “Who did you hire? How much did they cost?”

  He looked at her confused. “It was free. I did it myself.”

  She widened her eyes. “You didn’t have to.”

  “I know.”

  Suzanne returned her gaze to the window and rested her chin on her hands. She gazed out at the sight, her eyes filling with tears. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.”

  Rick sat down beside her and smiled in disbelief. “You’re being polite.” When she wiped a tear away, his smile fell. “You’re serious.”

  “Yes.” The men in her life always had others do their work. Not that she minded. That was the way things were done. If you wanted the lawn mowed you hired someone. You always hired someone else to work for you. Even John, her agent, had flowers delivered instead of buying them himself. Rick didn’t come from that world. No matter how much money he’d made he’d be blue collar to the core. She thought of the hours it must have taken him and her heart was filled with gratitude. “Thank you.”

  “It was nothing,” he said, a little embarrassed. “I’m glad to see you’re looking better.”

  “I probably look worse than I feel.”

  His eyes clung to hers and for the first time they weren’t glinting with humor or anger or pride, but something tender, genuine and real. “You always look good.”

  “Now you’re the one being polite,” she teased, her heart picking up speed.

  “I’ve never been accused of that before.”

  “There’s a first for everything.”

  “Yea, you scared the sh—stuffing out of me.”

  Suzanne laughed. “The stuffing?”

  “I’m trying to be polite and remember you’re a lady not used to raw language.”

  “I don’t mind if you swear.”

  His teasing tone grew serious. “Because you expect it?”

  “No, because most times I want to swear myself.”

  His gaze intensified. “I see.”

  Suzanne lowered her gaze, unable to look at him any longer, but it landed on his chest, which wasn’t a safe place to look, especially when he smelled fresh from a shower. She watched a wayward drop of water flow down over his muscles and her fingers itched to do the same. If she moved just a little closer she could touch him and bask in the warmth of his body. She quickly lowered her gaze to her lap and gripped her hands. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “I’d prefer something to eat.”

  “Oh.” She stood and grabbed her handbag. She pretended to look at the money in her wallet, although there wasn’t much there. “What are you in the mood for?”

  He stood. “Let’s see what’s in your kitchen.”

  She stared at him alarmed. He wanted to eat in? “I’m not much of a cook.”

  “I bet you don’t cook at all.”

  “I learned to cook some,” she said defensively.

  “I guess some things do change.”

  “A lot of things change.”

  “I know,” he said with a sly smile, and then he walked into the kitchen. She followed him and saw him opening the cupboards.

  He raised an eyebrow in disbelief at the bare items. “Is this how you keep your girlish figure? By starving yourself?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to shop.” She didn’t have the money, either, and preferred to stay out of town. “What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked, hoping to divert his attention.

  Rick opened the fridge and shook his head in disgust by the lack of choices. “I came to look at the house again in a different light.”

  “Would you like me to show you around?”

  He bent down to look farther into the fridge. “Let’s eat first.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “I am.” He straightened and turned to her with a pained expression. “Do you know how much lawn you have?”

  She licked her lips, feeling guilty. “I’m really grateful. There’s a deli—”

  “We’re eating here.” He pulled out items from the fridge. “Set the table.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “You know how to set the table, right? Or do you usually have someone do that for you?”

  She frowned. “Of course I can set a table. I learned at the age of three.”

  “I only learned last year. You think I’m kidding?” Rick said, noticing her smirk. “When we were ready for dinner at my house we just pulled back the plastic on the TV dinner.”

  Suzanne got the plates and utensils and placed them on the table. “That’s a lie. Your mother knows how to cook. I tried out her oatmeal cookies at a bake sale.”

  “That’s the only thin
g she knows how to make. That and a tequila sunrise.”

  “Then how did you learn to cook?” she asked as she watched the ease in which he moved about in the kitchen.

  “Didn’t have a choice. Fast food adds up and frozen dinners can start to taste the same. Besides, you wouldn’t believe how much you can make with a can of beans and some rice.”

  “Oh, yes I remember when…” She stopped.

  He turned to her. “You remember what?”

  “You probably won’t remember.”

  “I remember a lot of things,” he said in a deep voice that stirred the hairs on the back of her neck. “Try me.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “Fine.”

  She watched Rick cook. He looked remarkably comfortable in her kitchen, although he shouldn’t have. She studied him as he moved, captivated by the symmetry of his body as his muscles constricted and relaxed with each motion. She saw the scar on his left shoulder and another on his right side and felt a twinge of pain as though they were new and fresh. She remembered when he’d told her about the first one in a low flat voice that chilled her, and she recalled how he’d gotten the second one. They’d both come from his father. She turned her gaze away and studied the plates. “I’m sorry what I said before about your father.”

  He shrugged. “I’d forgotten about it.” He said the words with a studied nonchalance, but the ease of his shoulders told her that her apology meant something to him.

  Minutes later he placed a bowl of basil tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich in front of her.

  Suzanne stared at the food, amazed by what he’d been able to create with her meager grocery items. “You’re a magician.”

  Rick sat down in front of her. “No. I just know how to make do.”

  She took a bite. “Delicious.”

  “Hmm.”

  Suzanne tried to start a conversation, but his monosyllabic answers forced her to stop. Chitchat was never a talent of his and part of her was glad. Empty conversations bored her so she didn’t mind the silence and focused on her food. She hadn’t eaten this well in days and planned to enjoy it. When they were through she offered to wash the dishes and he offered to dry. She didn’t need his help, but sensed he didn’t plan to leave, at least not yet.