by Janet Dailey
She would have to start over.
Erin told herself to stop obsessing over things that hadn’t happened yet. She sighed and closed her eyes, stretching out her legs and relaxing, lulled by the sounds of the place. A stable had its own symphony. The muted clip-clop of hooves over compacted straw. The clang of metal pails and the whoosh of feed being poured. Soft snorts and whinnies. The low voices of men and women who worked with horses, talking to the animals and to each other.
“Erin! Yoo-hoo!” Mrs. Meriweather waved her over. They had come out of the office and were walking to her.
She scrambled up and met them halfway.
“Mr. Montgomery wants to know when you can begin.”
Erin avoided his unnerving gaze by looking at the older woman as she answered. Mrs. Meriweather’s kind eyes met hers. “Ah—soon.”
“I need an exact date and time. The stables run on a strict schedule.” The deep voice sounded accustomed to giving orders.
“Tomorrow?” She took out her small notepad and flipped to the back, which had a calendar. Had he heard the slight quaver in her voice? Montgomery was intimidating.
“That can be arranged.”
Erin practically expected to hear a whip flick. But he wasn’t carrying a whip. Other than that, he looked like the horseman he was, in riding attire that had seen hard use. His boots had a high polish, though.
Well, she couldn’t look down forever or dodge the commanding gaze that reinforced his aura of power. The closer she got to him, the stronger the sensation of déjà vu became.
If only Bannon was here. That wasn’t going to happen, though.
He disliked Montgomery—that much was crystal clear. But it wasn’t as if the older man was a criminal. Yet Bannon had avoided explaining the reasons for his antipathy.
Unable to avoid it, she raised her eyes to Montgomery’s. Her breath hitched in her throat. There was something wounded and raw in the depths of his gaze that pinned her to the spot where she stood.
Erin almost panicked. Was he a little crazy? For whatever reason, she felt a sensation of something like pity for him.
Mrs. Meriweather gave her a kindly, unruffled smile. Evidently she hadn’t seen what Erin was seeing in the old man’s eyes. Or else she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Mrs. Meriweather had said in a quiet aside on their way here that the loss of his daughter had broken Montgomery’s heart forever.
Erin racked her brain for something to say, forcing herself to discuss the painting.
“Can you give me some idea of what you had in mind, Mr. Montgomery? I could do some preliminary sketches.”
“All right.” Montgomery walked away from both women, his large hands clasped behind his back.
“Are we supposed to follow him?” she whispered to Mrs. Meriweather.
“I think so,” the older woman whispered back with frustration. “He’s behaving very strangely, Erin. He rambles on and then stops—”
“But I can hear.” He turned around to deliver the sarcastic remark. Mrs. Meriweather blushed to the roots of her white hair. “The horse is in the adjoining building. Please follow me.”
His stride was long and the two women lagged behind. But they caught up with him when they turned the corner.
He was still ahead but he wasn’t alone. The blond woman Erin had seen at the window was facing him, saying something in a murmur. She broke off when she saw them, her gaze zeroing in on Erin.
Montgomery turned around. “Mrs. Meriweather, you know Caroline. But Erin doesn’t.” He turned to Caroline. “My dear, allow me to introduce Erin Randall.”
The blonde’s blue eyes blazed with jealousy. “It’s a pleasure,” she said in a tight voice. She didn’t hold out a hand or make any other welcoming gesture.
“Erin is a very talented painter,” Montgomery continued smoothly. “She will be working on a portrait of Take All.”
“I see.” The words were snapped out. Caroline looked Erin up and down as if she didn’t see at all.
“The three of us are going to his stall.” His frosty tone automatically excluded her.
“Have fun. I’m going the other way,” Caroline replied angrily.
She didn’t bother to say a single word to Mrs. Meriweather, who was too well-mannered to comment on the deliberate slight in public.
Caroline’s high heels clicked angrily down the paved center of the stable. Montgomery didn’t look back.
Erin dropped Mrs. Meriweather off at her house with a sigh of relief, glad the morning was over. The first thing she wanted to do was get her hands around a tall takeout cup of coffee and drink it down, and the second thing was to call Bannon.
She had pulled over and parked outside a fancy place and taken her time to read the chalked menu with its daily selections. Decaf would do it. Meeting Montgomery had left her jumpy, and Caroline—well, the blonde was a piece of work. At least Erin had her pegged correctly now. Mrs. Meriweather had offered a polite explanation of Caroline’s relationship with Montgomery.
After several years with no promise of marriage, his blond mistress was apparently fed up. Mrs. Meriweather added that Caroline complained to whoever would listen that Montgomery’s horse Take All was a lot more important to him than she was.
The horse was a gorgeous animal that seemed to know it was a star. Take All’s trainer had shown him off with great pride.
Once Erin realized that she would be dealing with that man and not Montgomery for the portrait, she’d set aside her misgivings.
Tall cup in hand, she went back to her car, wanting to drink her coffee where it was quiet. The coffee bar wasn’t. She checked the little window of the parking meter—the needle was safely in the black zone. There was plenty of time to enjoy her coffee.
She unlocked the door on the passenger side and slid in, setting the cup in the holder between the seats. Erin looked in her purse for her cell phone. She wanted to hear Bannon’s voice. The urge was so strong that it made her wonder about what she was beginning to feel for him.
He’d seemed so at home in her place. She’d been amused by the way he’d looked around so carefully, being protective while trying to seem casual. Deciding to use him as a model had been a stroke of genius, she thought smugly. What a perfect way to admire all that muscle and chiseled scruffiness for as long as she’d wanted to.
And he’d kept the male territorial stuff under control, except when she explained that a friend had helped her with the computer setup. Obviously Bannon had been dying to ask more but he didn’t have to know about her ex, who wasn’t all that important to her. Gerry, a software engineer, had taken off for greener pastures and a big job in Seattle, although Virginia had plenty of tech businesses and opportunities.
Anyway, so long, been nice to know you, she thought idly. Bannon made all thoughts of other men, past and future, vanish. It was easy to imagine him being a part of her life. Slow down, she told herself. Just enjoy him. And make sure no one else has that privilege , added a possessive little voice. Erin smiled to herself.
He finally answered, and she smiled at the sound of his husky hello.
“Hey. It’s Erin.”
“Hi.” The obvious pleasure in his voice warmed her all over. “Nice to hear from you.”
She chuckled. “I just saw you yesterday.”
“Yeah, well—”
“And we’re going to see each other soon.” Erin interrupted him before he could say anything about one kiss not being enough. Truth be told, it hadn’t been enough for her, either, but she saw nothing wrong with the two of them taking their time. Jumping into bed by the third or fourth date wasn’t something she wanted to do.
“When?”
Erin touched the coffee cup to see if it had cooled a little, then fiddled with the takeout lid so she could sip and talk. “Let me check with my social secretary. I’ll get back to you.”
Bannon laughed. “Where are you?”
“In my car. In town. Drinking coffee.” She took a long sip. “And ye
s, I’m parked.”
“Good. So did you visit the legendary Montgomery stables and stud farm?”
“I sure did. I met the horse.”
“What about the old man?”
Thinking about that required two more sips. “Him too. And his girlfriend Caroline. She didn’t seem too happy to see us.”
“Oh. Why was that?”
“She didn’t give a reason,” Erin said dryly. “She didn’t seem inclined to talk to any of us. And she was downright rude to Mrs. Meriweather.”
“Hmm.”
Erin filled him in on more details of the morning, but she left out the way Montgomery had stared at her, and her feelings of nervousness. There was no sense in triggering Bannon’s protective reflex. He meant well, but she suspected he was apt to go overboard.
“So how’s Charlie?” he asked.
“He slept right by my bed on my mom’s old hooked rug. When I woke up I had to pull my slippers out from underneath him. They were nice and warm.” She laughed.
“That’s great.”
“We went for a morning walk and I threw a stick for him to get him to run. Otherwise he stays right by me the whole time.”
“He’s supposed to.”
Erin gave a mock sigh. “He doesn’t have to.”
Bannon apparently decided not to argue the point. Not a problem. She really liked the dog, and that was going to work out fine.
He switched the subject. “So did you get started on the commission?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She finished up the coffee. “I did some sketches and then we went into the stable offices and I signed on the dotted line.”
“Okay.”
The nonchalant reply made her smile to herself. Apparently he’d decided not to be bossy. He had been right about the terms, though. She’d asked for what he said. Well, she would have in any case.
“I got half the fee in advance, and the other half I get when I’m done. Mrs. Meriweather made sure I understood the fine print, not that there was much.”
“Excellent.” There was a pause. “Did I understand you right? You actually received the fee?”
“Yes. The envelope, please.” She set the cell phone inside her purse and found an already torn envelope to rip so he would hear it. Then she put the phone to her ear and spoke to him again. “Holy cow! I’m looking at a cashier’s check for fifteen thousand dollars!”
“Really?” His voice was incredulous.
Erin burst out laughing. “No. That was just a sound effect. Actually, I already deposited the check. Why wait, right?”
He joined in the laughter. “Spoken like a starving artist. Good for you, Erin. I’m glad it all went well.”
“Me too.”
She heard a doorbell ring on his side of the call.
“That’s Doris,” Bannon told her. “A colleague from the station. Nice lady, you’ll like her. And now for the sound effects of me walking to the door. . . .” She heard the knocking this time and then his footsteps, very faint, and the sound of a door opening. “Don’t break it down, Doris. I’m talking to someone.”
Erin frowned a little.
The other woman wanted to know who.
“The artist who did that little painting of a horse I bought for you,” Bannon said. “Erin Randall.”
“Oh! The pretty one? She must be the reason you’ve been so damn busy all of a sudden,” Doris said cheerfully.
Erin smiled.
“Uh, yeah—”
“Hi, Erin!” Doris yelled into the phone, over the rest of Bannon’s answer. “I love the painting!”
Bannon laughed and then moved away from his visitor, by Erin’s guess.
“You see what I have to put up with,” he told her.
“She does sound nice,” Erin said.
“We’re going to go over some new stuff relating to the case. So that’s what I’m doing today.”
“Okay. I’ll be drawing horses.”
“Looking forward to seeing the sketches,” he said.
Erin groaned. “The first ones are always terrible. It’s like the first pancakes. You throw them away.”
“Don’t,” Bannon chided her. “You never know. You could sell those to Montgomery too.”
“You’re funny.”
“Glad you think so.” He hesitated but not for long. “When can I see you again?”
“Let’s talk tonight.”
“Okay, but—”
She heard Doris scoff at him for sounding like a lovesick teenager and said a laughing good-bye.
CHAPTER 9
Bannon snapped his cell phone shut and turned to his visitor. “So what’s all this?”
Doris had opened the flap of an over-the-shoulder bag to show him a jumble of files. “Tons of stuff.”
“From the storage warehouse? That could get back to Hoebel.”
She shook her head. “I’m not making that long drive again. I got all this from the evidence locker. His son-in-law has a habit of leaving the key around and taking long lunches.”
“Lucky for us that Petey Hayes is totally incompetent.”
“The chief doesn’t think so.”
Bannon shrugged. “What else is new at the station?”
“Too many cases, not enough officers. Hoebel works off the tension by hitting on Jolene.”
“Really?” Bannon said. “He’s married, right?”
“Not happily. I can’t blame Mrs. Hoebel. Anyway, Jolene won’t have anything to do with him. She was asking me what to do if he got too close to her. I said to tar and feather him and ride him out of town on a rail.”
“You could put together a whole damn posse to do that if you wanted to. The man rubs a lot of people the wrong way.”
She laughed but without much humor. “Let’s not talk about him. I have to deal with him most every day, you don’t.” She walked over a few steps to look at Erin’s painting of wild horses. “Wow. You didn’t show me this one.”
“It was all wrapped up in brown paper. And it was raining that day, remember?”
“Vaguely.”
He went over to where she was. “She got the inspiration for this at Chincoteague, but she painted it from memory. Sometimes she does preliminary sketches, sometimes not.”
“My, my. You have been getting to know her.” Doris gave him a friendly little punch on the shoulder.
“Why not?” he retorted. “She took me out to the Montgomery house, the old one, after she saw me on TV. And I got to see her studio setup at her home. She has a great little place out in the country.”
“I bet.”
Bannon suddenly wanted to change the subject. “Okay. What do you have? I want to see it all.”
Doris gave him an irritated look as she set the bag down on the coffee table. “Don’t be a brat. Coffee first. Treats after that. Here, take my coat.” She wriggled out of it and tossed it at him.
“Yes, ma’am.” He took care of hanging it up for her and got busy in the kitchen as she settled herself on the long sofa.
“Am I going to be covered in cat hair by the time I leave?” she called to him.
“Do you want to be?”
“Yes. Now where is that big kitty? Here, kitty. Kitty kitty kitty . . .”
Bannon heard a soft thump. Babaloo had made a four-footed landing from some high hiding place in the living room.
“There you are,” Doris said happily. “Come give me some love. Oh yes. Yes yes yes.”
He laughed and went in to see, noticing first that she’d removed the file folders and papers from the bag and fanned them out on the coffee table. The cat was rubbing his cheek against Doris’s and gently stamping his paws on her lap.
“If I ever have to go out of town, you can babysit the Whisker Dude,” he offered.
“You know I would. But not here,” she said. “My place or no place.”
“Deal.” He went back into the kitchen. The coffee was close to done. He took down two cups and threw some sugar packets onto a tray, adding a couple of spoons
and paper napkins. Then he checked the fridge for milk—none.
He cursed under his breath, not that Doris would hear him, what with all her cooing at the cat.
Then he remembered a foil-box container of milk shoved back in the cabinet above the coffeemaker. Bannon stretched to retrieve it, checking the expiration date when it was in his hand. Whew. Under the limit.
He put it on the tray, filled the cups, and carried the whole business out.
“Aren’t you domestic,” Doris teased him.
“I try.” Bannon pushed the pile of papers to one side with one hand and set down the tray in front of her with the other.
“And dexterous too.”
“I was a waiter in college. Worst job I ever had.” He peeled open the serving slot on the box, flicking the tiny curl of foil onto the tray.
She wrinkled her nose. “What is that?”
“You know what it is. Milk in a box. The bachelor’s friend.”
“Okay. I can’t complain. I’ll do anything for free coffee.”
Babaloo turned his head in the direction of the opened milk box, sniffed, and shot Bannon a disgusted look. Then he jumped off Doris’s lap, disappearing again.
Without an inquisitive cat to get in the way, she dosed her coffee to her satisfaction, using all the sugar packets and just a splash of the milk, then stirring briskly.
“Mmm,” she said after the first sip. “Tastes boxy.”
“Give me a break, Doris.” Bannon was letting his coffee cool. He wanted to get into the files, bad. The messy writing on the folder tabs was hard to read. “Anything new here?”
“I think so. Looks like Petey put it all into random folders and threw them into a box. He didn’t bother with the old A to Z. The alphabet is not his strong suit.”
“How did you find it again?”
“Kind of by chance. I happened to see the box through the wire. Near the door, like it was going to get shipped out. The lid was half off.” She pointed to a file marked Montg’ry. “And that one was on top. So I scored the cage key when Petey was out hunting chili dogs and took a look at what was in it.”
“Good going. And you didn’t leave the box empty.”