She nodded without looking at him. “It was really none of your business.”
“But you can keep writing.” His voice was surprisingly gentle. “It won’t take long before you’re back on top again.”
She pushed out a bitter laugh. The guy was tenacious. Why hadn’t she seen this in him before?
“Anything I make for the next several years will go to pay off the debt my accountant ran up in my name. I’ll have to stop work on the house and put it on the market.”
Tavia watched as his fists bunched and his eyes narrowed to frigid slits. His mean mouth settled into a stubbornly vicious line. Tavia shook her head. You’d have thought it was his money that had been lost.
Abruptly, he shook out his hands though he still glowered. “I’m sorry.” He scraped a hand back through his stiff, rowdy hair. “But I was getting tired of this place anyhow.”
Tavia clasped her hands together and locked them against her chin to stop it from trembling. She might have expected this from the almighty prick.
He nodded grimly. “I think you’ll like my place. It’s smaller and cozier.” He lifted one shoulder as he forced an apologetic smile onto his mouth. “I’d like to kill the guy who did this to you, Tavia. But…it’s just money. I’m sorry. I’m not a multi-millionaire but you won’t starve as long as I’m around.”
At this point, Tavia had to remind herself to breathe. Her heart felt like it was about to explode. The rest of her felt like she was melting. Maybe that’s why all that liquid was running out of her eyes. She was melting. That was the only explanation.
“Tavia!”
The next thing she knew, Bolt was on his knees beside her. Reaching out with one hand, he cupped the side of her face as she tried to hide her tears in his hand. “Tavia, don’t cry, baby doll. It’s only money! You’ll like my place. And…and I can’t wait to introduce you to Mindy, my next-door neighbor—the mining engineer! She’s been trying to get me hooked up for years.” He glanced back at the door. “I was just on the phone, teasing her about you.”
Tavia squeezed her eyes closed and hid her face in his hand, pressing her lips together as tears flooded her eyes. She had been ready to cry. But not like this. She had been ready to cry in anger. She had been ready to shed tears of pain. But she hadn’t planned on crying because the male animal kneeling beside her was the most incredibly wonderful man on the face of the earth.
It wasn’t the money. He didn’t care about the money.
And Mindy was his best friend.
Tavia might have been the happiest woman on the planet, except for one thing.
She’d just lied to him.
And that just made her cry harder.
“Tavia,” he murmured, drawing her into his arms and rocking her in his big strong embrace. “Tavia. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, baby doll.”
“You’re…you’re just so sweet,” she sobbed.
He looked both shocked and affronted as he leaned back and held her face. His wide thumbs smoothed over her tear-streaked cheeks. “Hey, hey, hey,” he argued softly. “Don’t get all sentimental on me now. You’re scaring me. Remember me? I’m Bolt. I’m the fucking prick who kissed Maria.”
Tavia laughed. And she cried. And she buried her head in his shoulder.
* * * * *
“Are you mad at me?” Tavia asked Bolt after she’d confessed her lie.
“Hell yes, I’m mad at you. You thought I was only interested in your money. I’m not that kind of guy. You should know I’m not that kind of guy. It was never the money,” he growled.
Her lips twisted in regret. “I’m sorry, but what was I supposed to think?”
He stared at her. “Did it never occur to you that maybe it was just the sex?”
“Oh,” she said in a small voice. “Yes. No. Not really because…I reckoned you could get that anywhere.”
He smiled.
Damn, he was an arrogant, smug bastard. “Was it just sex?”
“Nah,” he drawled. “I told you before. I like you. I like everything you are. Ambitious, hardworking, successful. Your sense of humor. The way you don’t take shit from anyone.”
She took a small breath of relief. “So you’re not mad at me for lying to you?”
He averted his eyes but she caught a glint of guilt in the floating gold of his gaze.
She frowned. “Bolt?”
His mouth twitched in a small, wry gesture of apology.
“Bolt?”
He kept his gaze carefully focused across the room. “Tavia,” he said finally, “the fact is…that I’ve been less than honest with you.”
“No,” she said, her heart in her throat. “No. You’re not going to tell me you’re married. Please, Bolt. My emotions have been on a roller coaster since I rolled off the track this morning. Please don’t tell me Mindy’s your wife.”
He turned his shocked expression on her. “Don’t be ridiculous. It wasn’t that big a lie.”
“You lied to me?” she wailed. “You lied to me?”
He shrugged one shoulder, obviously reluctant to carry on.
“What did you lie to me about?” she asked in a hurt voice.
Again he shrugged. “Alex,” he muttered.
“Alex!” she blurted, somehow relieved. “Alex…the gold digger, Alex?”
Bolt tilted his head in a guilty, sideways nod. “I might have exaggerated a bit on that score.”
“On what score?”
“Alex is nuts about you.”
“What?”
“He’s nuts about you. Couldn’t you tell?”
“But you said…”
“That I’ve been known to play dirty when it comes to something I want. If you’d listened more closely, you’d know that,” he muttered defensively.
For several seconds she sat there with her mouth open. Then she gave him a slow, incredulous smile. “You did say that, didn’t you? Bolton Hardin, you are such a dick.”
A slow grin curled the edges of his deliciously mean mouth. “I am.”
“So you’re…so you’re not going to leave me over this?”
His eyebrows winged upward. “Are you kidding?” he drawled. “You’re a millionaire. Only an idiot would walk out on a woman like that!”
She punched him—hard. He deserved it.
He grinned as he pushed out a sigh. “What’s today? Friday? I’d better get back to Albuquerque and get back to work.”
“Why don’t you just get a job here?” The words were out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying. Jeez. She was throwing herself at the big lug nut.
Bolt gave her a blank look.
“You work in a garage,” she argued hesitantly. “Santa Fe has plenty of garages. Why don’t you just look for a job here in Santa Fe?”
Slowly, he began to laugh. “I’m sorry, Tavia,” he told her, drawing her into a hug. “I haven’t explained things very well. I think you’re going to have to give me that ride to Albuquerque now.”
* * * * *
When Bolt offered to drive the sixty miles to Albuquerque, Tavia turned him down. What a chauvinist! Then she smiled most of the way. The big man was just itching to get behind the wheel of her Hummer. He just wouldn’t admit it.
After traveling south for an hour on I-25, Bolt pointed at a green road sign up ahead. “Turn east on I-40. My house is on the edge of town.”
Nodding as she ramped onto the eastbound highway, Tavia stared ahead at the mountains. “If you live on the edge of town, that’s going to put you in the foothills.”
“That’s right,” he admitted with a grin. “I live on the steep edge of town.”
She smiled at him, unable to decide when she’d ever been so happy, unable to remember when she’d enjoyed herself so much. Every minute with Bolt was exhilaration and laughter, passion embellished with the unexpected.
Bolt was full of surprises.
Tavia was surprised when he directed her through an older neighborhood where the streets were lined with seventies archit
ecture. The houses were…quaint and homey. His own home stood separate from his neighbors’, at the back of a huge lot…with a very large garage. Tavia stared at the long, low building as she slid from the driver’s seat of her Hummer. There were ten garage bay doors punctuating the long stretch of white wall.
Bolt circled the car on his way to meet her. “This is my garage,” he told her a little proudly. He pulled her into the small door at the end of the long, white building. “I built it.” He flipped on a light switch and Tavia gaped at over twenty vehicles. Vintage Thunderbirds. Antique Roadsters. Sleek little sports cars. “This is where I work. I rebuild vintage vehicles from the ground up. Engine. Chassis. Interior. The works! I try to get original parts whenever possible. Otherwise I have the components machined to old specs.”
“Are…all of these vehicles yours?”
He shook his head. “Hell, no. I couldn’t afford all these. The Chargers are mine, though. I like the old muscle cars.” He pointed at a faded blue car that looked very much like the one she’d last seen stalled on the side of the road. “I had just picked up that ‘63 in Pueblo when I ran into you on the highway. I made a call and had it towed here the next morning.” He continued with almost boyish enthusiasm. “Most of the other vehicles belong to my customers. I’ve worked for Jay and for Clive. Do you know Clive? He writes.”
“No,” she said faintly. “I haven’t met him.”
“I did a Triumph for Dalton too.”
“Dalton?”
“Yeah. The artist who’s doing your covers. My sister’s married to him.”
“Your sister’s married to Dalton, the pastel artist?”
“That’s right.”
Her gaze narrowed on him suspiciously. “I thought you knew something about art. You had Alex and me convinced that you knew something about art.”
Bolt smiled noncommittally.
“You don’t know anything about art, do you?”
“Nothing outside of what Dalton’s told me,” he admitted without apology.
“Bolt Hardin,” she told him, “you are the most arrogant, obnoxious, frustrating, exasperating, irritating man I have ever met in my lifetime!
A mischief-made smile stole across his rugged features as he pulled her into his arms. “Hey,” he answered into her neck. “Get used to it.”
Chapter Eight
Tavia stopped outside the front door of her home. As she sorted through the mail she’d picked up from the mailbox at the bottom of the driveway, her glance traveled to the new addition, finished now for several months. In the middle of the concrete drive sat Bolt’s pastel blue Charger, fairly gleaming with bright chrome, fresh glass and seven coats of rich, new paint. She opened the front door and stepped into the entry as she frowned at the long, sloping handwriting on one of the envelopes. “Jeez,” she complained as she frowned at the pale yellow envelope. “Can’t the man take no for an answer?”
From his seat at the dining room table, Bolt smiled at her over the financial section of his newspaper. “Alex again?”
She nodded at her…guest, if that’s what you’d call a guy who’d spent the last ninety-odd nights with her. Every morning he drove off for Albuquerque to work in his garage. Every night he was back.
The first few weeks he had left without mentioning when she’d see him again. She hadn’t pressed him. She could tell from his expression that he’d thought it might be a few days. And if he was going to say “I’ll call you sometime”, then Tavia didn’t want to hear it. When Bolt had chased Alex off, he hadn’t been offering what Alex was offering. It was obvious the man treasured his independence. But every night he had returned. Sometimes in the early afternoon, sometimes not until after midnight.
When she’d answer the door, he’d be turned toward the south, his hands jammed deep in his pockets, his huge shoulders tense. He’d turn to face her. For those first few weeks, his eyes were wild, like an unsubdued addict or an animal caged. He almost acted as though he didn’t want to be there or didn’t think he was supposed to want to be there. As though the only reason he was there was because he just couldn’t help himself.
She’d kiss him in the entry and they’d fight their way to the bedroom, tearing at each other’s clothing, falling over one another in their haste and their need. The moment they’d bared the necessary places, Bolt would have her on his cock one way or another—jammed into the straight-backed chair, thrusting against the dining room table, crushed together and sweating against the wall in the hall. Then they’d fall into bed together and make long, slow love.
After the first few weeks, Bolt seemed to have grown resigned to the idea that he was going to be there every night.
Lately he seemed comfortable with it.
Lately he’d been spending the weekends with her as well, dragging himself away from his work. Tavia sighed, wondering how she could have ever thought the man lacked potential—and wondering when he was going to invite her to stay overnight at his home. She could almost wish her accountant had left her penniless. At least then she’d be living with Bolt…and maybe a little more certain of where their relationship was headed.
As she ripped the envelope open and scanned the letter’s contents, Bolt muttered something that sounded an awful lot like “poor bastard”.
“What was that?”
Bolt shrugged. “Alex. Give the poor guy a break.”
Tavia smiled wryly then strolled across the room, humming. “That guilty conscience of yours giving you a hard time?”
“I don’t have a conscience,” he said blandly. “And if you don’t shut up,” he added in a pleasant growl, “I’ll give you a hard time.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat?”
He lifted a threatening eyebrow in answer.
“Because if it is, it’s not a very good one.”
He lowered his paper so he could give her his full scowl. “You’d like me to give you a hard time, wouldn’t you?”
With a tarted-up smile, she waggled her eyebrows and gave him her best come-hither look.
He nodded to himself. “Slut,” he muttered, rattling his paper and looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“Glad you think so.” She dropped a kiss on his forehead. “Pig.”
Lifting his gaze, he gave her a warm smile, which she returned fondly.
“You a millionaire yet?” she asked him, watching his eyes scan stock prices.
“Close,” he answered. “Getting close. What about you? You finish that story yet? The one about the hitchhiker and the rich broad?”
“Uh-huh. And you’ll be pleased to learn that I dedicated it to you.”
He made a face of distaste. “Thanks.”
“You don’t want the dedication?”
He rolled his shoulders. “It’s okay. Just as long as none of my friends find out that I have a girl’s book dedicated to me.”
“You have friends?” she asked with mock surprise. “More than one?”
“I have a few,” he growled.
“Well, they’re not likely to find out,” she groused, “since I’ve never met any of them other than Mindy.”
“You’ll meet them at the wedding,” he murmured idly from behind his newspaper.
“Wedding?” she echoed. “What wedding?”
Bolt lowered his newspaper and considered her thoughtfully. “That reminds me,” he told her, “I have something for you.”
“Big deal,” she returned abruptly, refusing to be distracted. “You always have something for me. Tell me about the wedding.”
“This is a little different,” he informed her haughtily. “And this little something comes with a question.”
“A question?” she asked, suddenly very keen to learn more.
He grinned as he stood then grabbed her wrist and dragged her down the hall, stopping outside the door to her office. The doorway was blocked by her huge, heavy desk which he’d dragged right up to the doorway’s opening. She peered into the room, attempting to locate her computer,
which she found tucked against the wall in the room’s corner.
“Bolt!” She laughed. “What the hell?”
With his hands locked around her waist, Bolt lifted her to sit on the cleared desk.
She smiled at him curiously as he reached around to his back pocket and pulled out a small, square box wrapped in silver glitter. As he bounced it in one hand, Tavia watched it go up into the air then back down to meet his palm.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked her. When she shook her head he said, “Can you guess?”
Again she shook her head, her eyes wide as she followed the glittering box he tossed in the air.
The corners of his rugged, mean mouth kicked up into a satyr’s grin. “It’s going to be a bit of a shock—especially when you see the size of the diamond. I think maybe you should lie down before I give it to you.”
“Diamond!”
His large hand slid behind her nape, cradling her head as he eased her to lie back on the desk. Then he tossed the box at her and she grappled with the shining silver cube, juggling it in mid-air as she felt Bolt lifting her legs at the knees. Finally she got the box under control.
Then she saw the shoes.
The black, ankle-strap shoes were nailed to the wall she faced, about two feet higher than the desk, one on either side of the open doorway. Her jaw dropped open as she clutched the box and Bolt guided her right foot into the shoe nailed against the wall.
“Now,” he drawled. “Here’s the question, Miss October.” He paused for effect. “What are you going to do first? Are you going to open the box with the diamond engagement ring…or are you going to get your panties off?”
It was no contest. The ring could wait. Tavia dropped the box and reached for her panties.
About the Author
I slung the heavy battery pack around my hips and cinched it tight—or tried to.
“Damn.” Brian grabbed an awl. Leaning over me, he forged a new hole in the too-big belt.
“Any advice?” I asked him as I pulled the belt tight.
“Yeah. Don’t reach for the ore cart until it starts moving, then jump on the back and immediately duck your head. The voltage in the overhead cable won’t just kill you. It’ll blow you apart.”
Miss October Page 9