Words of Seduction

by Dara Girard

  “So you’re really interested in buying the house?” she asked as she handed him a plate.

  Rick sent her an odd look. “Yes.” He dried the plate then set it down and rested his hands on the counter. “Either you don’t believe me or you’re so used to men lying to you that you can’t believe me.” His gaze searched hers. “Not all men are liars and I’ve never lied to you, have I?”

  Suzanne cleared her throat and handed him a cup, hoping to break his gaze. “No.”

  He didn’t take the cup from her. “Then why would I start now?”

  “Right. I’m sorry. I just don’t see you living here.”

  His jaw twitched. “Because it’s too grand for me?”

  “No, it’s too ordinary.”

  He grasped the cup, his fingers brushing hers. “There’s nothing wrong with ordinary.”

  “No, but now you’re anything but.”

  He grinned. “I’ve changed.” His grin slowly widened. “But I can see you don’t believe that, either, and I’m not going to try and convince you.”

  She handed him the last item then dried her hands. “I can show you the house again if you want. I don’t believe I showed you the attic last time.”

  Rick was silent for a moment, studying her in a way that made her feel vulnerable. She wondered what he saw, then he said, “Lead the way.”

  Suzanne showed him the house again. This time she included areas she hadn’t bothered to point out before. She proudly showed him the window seat under the bay window in a little alcove off the kitchen, and the extra-large pantry in the basement. Her grandparents were survivors of the Depression, and out of habit, kept a stockpile of nonperishable food items that could feed an entire village. Rick was impressed with the music studio off her father’s study and the guest bedroom, with its own bathroom and minikitchenette that her parents had planned on using as a mother-in-law apartment for her grandmother when she was alive. Suzanne saved the attic for last. It was her favorite spot because it had the best view and had always been a place of solace. “Mom used it as an alcove.” She pointed to the window. “And just look at that view.”

  Rick ran his hand along a beam. “So this is it.”

  “What?”

  “Where you came to hide. You said you had to practice up here, but you also used it as a place to get away.” When she looked at him in surprise, he laughed. “I told you I had a good memory.”

  “Yes.”

  He picked up the violin case sitting in the corner. “Do you still play?”

  She stiffened. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Suzanne shrugged, not wanting to explain. “So that’s it. You’ve seen the entire house twice.” She glanced around, not knowing what else to say and fully aware of how cramped the quarters were. The attic had seemed large when she was a child, but now it felt stiflingly small. Or perhaps Rick made every space seem small. Nervously she began to squeeze by him to head down the stairs. “I’ve shown you everything you wanted to see.”

  He blocked her path. “No, you haven’t.”

  “I haven’t?”

  “No, because I want to see you stop avoiding my touch. I want to see you stop pretending we’re strangers and I want to see you remember this.” He pulled her to him and kissed her. Suzanne wanted to struggle against him and resist, but she didn’t. She let herself indulge in the wild, punishing sweetness of his lips, the hands that held her soft curves into his hard form and that was all he needed. He deepened the kiss and she felt her body become fire. That’s when she knew she was in danger and pulled away.

  Suzanne grinned and said in a shaky voice, “I knew you hadn’t changed.” She tried to make her voice light to lessen the impact of their kiss.

  But his smoldering gaze wouldn’t let her. “I have changed Suzanne,” he said in a dark voice, “but you’re too afraid to believe that.”

  “Why would I be afraid?”

  He took a step toward her.

  She held her hand out. “I know you’re used to getting what you want especially from the fairer sex. But let me tell you one thing. All you’re getting from me is the house.”

  “Is that a challenge?

  “It’s a warning.”

  He winked. “You should know me better than that. Warnings only make me try harder,” he said then walked down the stairs and left.

  Suzanne gazed out the attic window and watched Rick get into his car and drive away. She touched her fingers to her lips and remembered a time he’d ignored a warning….

  Chapter 6

  It had been an unusually cold June the summer Suzanne was eighteen and she and her father had another of their monthly shouting matches.

  “You’re going to do exactly what I tell you because that’s the way things work around here,” he said as he sat behind the massive desk in his study. He was a powerfully built man with deep-set eyes and features no one would call handsome. His well-designed study made him look respectable but she knew there was a streak of ruthlessness behind his polish.

  She held up the piece of paper in her hand. “But I got accepted into college.”

  “Well, that’s fine, but you’re not going. What do you need college for when I’ve got your life already planned for you? College is for the poor and middle-class people who need a trade. You don’t need a trade. I’m in a trade so I know what I’m talking about. My road was a rocky one, but yours will be smooth. If you were a boy, that’d be different, but you’re lucky. You’re always going to be taken care of. And I’m not wasting money so you can get some useless four year degree in music. You play that violin well, but you don’t have what it takes to make it a career.”

  “Dad, you sound archaic—”

  “Archaic?” He chuckled. “Do you know how many young women would want to be you?” He pointed out the window. “Do you know how many women envy you? They envy you, your house, your money and your status.” He tapped his chest. “That’s all because of me. Fortunately, you got your looks from your momma.”

  “I don’t care about those things.”

  “You would care if you didn’t have them.”

  “I’m going to be a musician.”

  He leaned back and rested his hands on the desk. “What’s going on here? You never used to defy me this way. You used to be such a good girl.”

  Yes, she’d been a slave to obedience since the day she was born. Her family used to tease her that as a baby she wouldn’t even cry without permission. All her life she was the good daughter and her mother’s pride and joy. She’d had a brother who’d died at five months and her parents had been unable to conceive any more children after her so she became their focus.

  All their hopes and dreams lay on her shoulders and she never wanted to disappoint them, but as the years passed it seemed that her obedience wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to get straight A’s, to be head cheerleader or first violin. None of that mattered as long as she followed the rules—her father’s rules and they became more demanding.

  “I just want to learn more,” she said in a quiet voice.

  He rose to his feet and came from behind his desk. “Let me see that letter.”

  She handed it over to him with pride. “It’s a great school and not many people can get in.”

  “Hmm.” He took the paper, then tore it into strips.

  “No,” Suzanne cried reaching for it. “You have no right.”

  He crumbled the strips in his fist. “I’m your father. I have every right.” He pointed a finger at her. “You’re going to work with your aunt and learn how to be a hostess. Then you’re going to marry Wallace Lyon. He’s smart and he’s from a good family and he’ll go far.”

  “But I don’t love him.”

  He laughed. “You don’t have to. You only have to marry him.”

  “I’ll run away.”

  “And live on what? You want to break your mother’s heart, and my heart too? After all we’ve done for you?”

  Suzanne wiped away a tear, wish
ing she had the courage to leave them, but knowing she didn’t.

  He softened his voice. “You’ll have a good life. Now—” He paused when she left the room. “Where do you think you’re going?” he shouted after her.

  Suzanne grabbed her coat from the hall stand. “I’m leaving.”

  “And where do you plan to go?” Her father said, amused.

  “I don’t know, but I need to get away from you,” she said, slamming the door on her father’s laughter.

  Suzanne drove around for an hour before stopping at her former music teacher’s house. She needed someone to talk to, even if they couldn’t change anything, and Melba Lowell was a good listener. Suzanne knocked on the door and seconds later Melba opened it. Her usually lovely highlighted brown hair hung limp around her face and her brown eyes looked nervous.

  “Suzanne,” she said in a strained whisper. “Now is not a good time.”

  Suzanne took a step back to leave but noticed the bruise on Melba’s arm. “Do you need me to call the police?”

  “I need you to go.”

  A loud belligerent voice called out her teacher’s name. “Who’s at the door?”

  “A student.” Melba chewed her lower lip. “Don’t look like that Suzanne. He’s just in one of his moods.”

  “Come with me,” Suzanne said. “I’ve got my car.”

  “I can’t.”

  “If I stay he can’t touch you, right?” Suzanne was about to enter when she saw Melba’s husband, Albert—a striking man of forty with silver hair and brownish-green eyes—standing behind her.

  “Hello, Mr. Lowell.”

  His belligerent tone disappeared to one as sweet as pecan pie. “Hello, Suzanne.”

  “I came to talk to Miss Melba.”

  “She’s busy right now.”

  “We all know what you do to her.”

  Melba reached out to Suzanne in a desperate gesture, stopped and clasped her hands together. “Suzanne, please.”

  He looked wounded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What a wild imagination you have. I know you like to make up stories.” He rested a hand on Melba’s shoulder. “Everyone knows how well I take care of my wife.”

  Suzanne couldn’t ignore the possessive note in his tone. “One day everyone’s going to know the truth.”

  “Suzanne,” Melba said in a pleading tone. “Don’t go spreading gossip. I just bumped into a table. That’s all.” She then mouthed, Please go.

  Suzanne sighed. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Maybe,” Albert said, closing the door.

  She was barely down the porch steps when she heard a glass shatter. A scream followed, then shouting. Suzanne stared at the house and started up the steps, but changed her mind. She tried to see through the windows, but the curtains were closed. She searched the quiet street trying to figure out what she should do. She didn’t know what was going on, but she knew she had to do something. Suddenly she saw a man come out of one of the houses and race across the street. She halted when she saw who it was—Rick Gordon.

  He stared at her, startled. “What’s wrong?”

  Her throat began to close. She’d never spoken more than two words to him her entire life and had always kept a proper distance. But now he was the only person she could turn to.

  “You’ve got her all tongue-tied,” his companion said. She hadn’t noticed him before. He stood behind the truck.

  “Shut up,” Rick said. He took her by the shoulders and softened his voice. “What’s wrong?”

  It wasn’t his voice or his hands that comforted her, it was his eyes. She could trust him.

  “You have to help me,” she said in a rush. “Call the police. He’s at it again.”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Lowell. I shouldn’t have stopped by. This is all my fault. He’s hurting her.”

  Rick swore then turned to his workmate and said, “Call the police.”

  “They’re not going to listen to me.”

  “Just call them,” he said then raced across the street to the house, with Suzanne following him. He burst down the door and ran inside. “Miss Melba?”

  Albert emerged from the kitchen like an enraged bear. “What the hell are you doing in my house, boy?”

  “I heard a scream.”

  “You heard wrong.” He looked past Rick and glared at Suzanne. “You’ve been telling stories again, haven’t you?”

  Rick moved in front of her, blocking Albert’s view, and kept his voice low. “I just wanted to make sure that Miss Melba is all right.”

  “She’s fine.”

  “I’d still like to see—”

  Mr. Lowell took a threatening step toward him. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You owe me a new door.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How are you going to pay for it?”

  “I have some money.”

  “Not much I bet.”

  “I’ll save.”

  He folded his arms, tucking his anger behind a cool mask. “How long has your father been working for me? He wouldn’t be too happy if he lost his job, would he?”

  Suzanne trembled, realizing the impact of Mr. Lowell’s threat. Everyone knew Rick’s father was a mean drunk; he’d be even meaner without a job.

  Rick kept his voice steady. “As I said, we heard a scream.”

  Melba peeked her head out. “I just lost my balance and was startled. It’s okay.”

  The sound of sirens suddenly pierced the air. Albert swore and pointed a finger at Suzanne. “This is all your fault. You’re trying to cause trouble.”

  “I called the police,” Rick said.

  Mr. Lowell grinned. “Trying to make good with the judge’s daughter?”

  When the police arrived, Mr. Lowell briefed them on the situation, providing them with his story. Melba readily agreed. They apologized and hurried out. One of the officers—a female with spiky black hair who looked like she could hammer nails with her fist—took Rick aside. “I should have known you’d be behind this.”

  Suzanne spoke up. “He called because of me.”

  The officer ignored her. “I know the ladies like you, but this isn’t your kind of neighborhood.”

  “I was on a job,” Rick said.

  “What kind of job?” the officer asked snidely, referring to his brother who was in jail for burglary.

  “I was working over there.” He pointed to the house across the street.

  “I was the one who wanted to call,” Suzanne insisted. “I thought something was wrong.”

  At last the officer noticed her and smiled. “Everything is okay. I know you were trying to help, but your father would have a heart attack if he saw who you were with. You’re a good girl and I hope you plan to stay that way.” She sent Rick an ugly look. “Go home.” She shifted her gaze to Suzanne. “Both of you.” She got back into her patrol car and started it.

  Rick didn’t move. He watched the car drive away, his face a mask of anger and Suzanne felt the injustice of it all. Mr. Lowell was the villain, but everyone treated Rick as though he were. She knew from his reputation that he wasn’t a saint, but the officer’s treatment didn’t sit well with her. He had come to the rescue and had been reprimanded instead of thanked. Suddenly, her mother’s words came to her: “A sweet word can turn away anger.” He needed kindness. He needed E.T.W.

  Suzanne swallowed, her heart racing, she took a deep breath before staring up at him. “Rick?”

  He shifted his dark gaze to her face and she briefly lost courage, but she didn’t look way. She touched his arm in a soft fleeting gesture. “You’re one of the bravest men I’ve ever known. Thank you for helping me.” She smiled, but he didn’t return the expression. She let her shoulders sag in defeat. “Goodbye.” She walked to her car.

  “Don’t thank me,” he said in a soft voice. “I didn’t do anything.”

  She turned to him. “Yes, you did.”

  He shook his head. �
�No, I didn’t. She didn’t press charges. Do you know why?”

  “No, she should have.” Suzanne leaned against her car and stared at the Lowell house in disbelief. “They would have taken him away.”

  “She’s afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “That he’ll get out and hurt her some more.”

  “Then she should leave him.”

  Rick shook his head, amused by her naiveté. “Things must be nice and neat in your own little world.”

  “He’s a bad man.”

  “He’s also a powerful man.”

  “But there are laws.”

  “There are ways to get around the law.” Rick stared at her. “Don’t mess with him. I don’t care who your father is.”

  Her father. The image of him suddenly loomed large in her thoughts and forced her to remember their argument earlier that evening, which reared fresh in her mind like a monster. She thought of how her father ruled her life and then she thought of poor Melba having to succumb to her husband. A feeling of helplessness enveloped her and she leaned against her car and tears slid down her face.

  Rick made his voice gentle and rested an arm on her shoulder. “Hey, what’s this?” He reached to touch her face but stopped himself, clenching his hand into a fist. “Don’t do that.”

  “Why not? You’re right. We didn’t do anything. Nothing’s changed. Nothing will ever change.”

  “That’s not true.”

  She sniffed. “What?”

  “We can change. I’m not going to live like this forever. I’ve got dreams and one day I’ll leave this town and come back and everyone will respect me. Even—” He bit his lip then took out a rag from his back pocket. “Wipe your eyes.”

  She held the rag, unsure.

  “It’s clean.”

  “It’s not that. It smells like licorice.”

  A brief smile touched his lips. “I admit, I’m an addict. Want some?”

  She dabbed her eyes. “No, thank you.”

  “You don’t have to be that polite about it.”

  She laughed. “I can’t help it.”

  “Hmm.” He rested a hand against the hood of her car.