Marshall took off his hat and stepped closer. She drank in the exciting scent that seemed all his…spicy and musky. A potent combination that made her dizzy and warm.
“An apology for snapping at you today.”
It didn’t take much to summon a smile. “And you think this makes up for it, eh?”
A tiny smile at the corner of his mouth combined with clear interest in his eyes. Was he even closer? “Is there something else you want?”
His returning question stumped her…no…stunned her for a few seconds. Heat filled her face, and she figured avoiding his question would be the best route. She looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “Thank you for the flower.” The delicate scent of the carnation met her nose. “Come on downstairs. I’ve got our campsite set up.”
As he followed Dana downstairs, he said, “I thought when I called you’d tell me to go to hell.”
She decided if he would be blunt, then so would she. Once inside the basement, she headed around the bar. “I considered it. For about a half minute.”
Without saying a word Marshall went to the sectional couch and looked around. She wondered what he’d think of the temporary indoor campsite. Dana had placed a cornucopia of fruits in a basket on the bar, as well as trail mix, and crackers and cheese.
Filling a small vase with water, she put the carnation inside and placed it on the wood bar. She glanced at Marshall and noted he stood in the living area, his hands on his hips.
Taking a deep breath, she realized her stomach tossed and turned. She’d better get her nerves under control or he’d become suspicious and think she hid something from him. Well, you are hiding something from him, aren’t you?
“Blankets and pillows?” his deep voice asked from the living room. “Munchies?”
She suspected her grin would look nervous, so she didn’t try to smile. Instead she went around the bar and joined him. “In case your stakeout goes late into the night.”
When he trained his gaze on her, the world did a topsy-turvy movement. “Good thinking. It just might.”
Clearing her throat, she asked, “Would you like something to drink? Aunt Lucille has just about everything down here. Soft drinks, juice, you name it.”
Marshall asked for water, and she decided her stomach couldn’t handle anything else either. After locating two sparkling waters in the small fridge under the bar, Dana crossed to the sectional couch. She sat at one corner while Marshall sat at the other, and in a way it looked ridiculous. Like one of those thirty person tables in a castle great hall. She’d have to shout for him to hear her at the other end.
Silence stretched between them. Dana wondered if he kept mum to unnerve her. Yet she sensed a strumming in the air, an energy that vibrated with unspoken needs. Terrified of those needs, she continued to deny them.
Sounds invaded her; the ticking of the bar clock filled the air; outside the wind brushed the bow of a pine tree against the sliding glass window. Now that night encroached, she felt glad the drapes had been pulled over the sliding glass window. She smelled the pine-scented cleaner she’d used to wipe down the bar, and the special but indefinable scent that always reminded her of Aunt Lucille’s home.
Dana looked over and realized he stared at her, his bottle of water almost empty. She swallowed hard as she saw a dark flame ignite in his eyes. Inside she ached to know the meaning of that look. That burning, intense, eat-you-alive expression made her itch and burn to understand this man in every way possible.
Grasping these facts made her do a mental squirm. His stillness added to the fever. She stood and went to the fireplace, aware that the encroaching night had turned the basement cool. Later she might wish she’d started a fire.
When she looked at him, his gaze had attached to her again. If she’d felt bolder tonight she’d have asked why he stared. Instead she took another angle. “Why are we here, Marshall?”
“Stakeout.”
“Okay, so we’re doing monosyllables again. No, I mean why are we really here? Do you realize that Aunt Lucille hasn’t heard the noises in days, and neither have I?”
He nodded. “I suspected as much.”
“Why?”
He put his drink on the coaster on the side table and leaned forward. “Because I’ve investigated. If I wasn’t looking into this you’d still hear the noises all right.”
“You think your interrogation of all of us has scared away the culprit?”
“Maybe.” Another long pause started, his face a contradiction of soft and hard in the dim light. “But we’ve gone over this ground before.”
“So you’d rather sit here and say nothing?”
“No. Tell me about your…books.”
She heard his hesitation, and decided teasing him would lighten the mood. “Singular. I have one book.”
He nodded. “Right. I haven’t seen a copy of it, but then I don’t read horror much.”
“You probably get enough of that on the job.”
He broke into another killer smile. “Haven’t encountered many ghosts or ghouls in my line of work. Unless you count people like Gregory. But that has nothing to do with your book. Fire away. Tell me all about it.”
Dana tasted her water, then plopped back onto the couch, this time a section closer. “No way. You’ve got to buy a copy.”
He laughed. “At least tell me what it’s about.”
So she gave him a small synopsis, adding that her next project would feature romance. As soon as the word romance spilled from her mouth, she wanted it back.
His eyes narrowed. “That sounds interesting. That’s a rare combination, isn’t it? Horror and romance.”
She shrugged and finished her water. “Depends on who you talk to. Some people have had horrible romances.” Incriminating words kept spilling from her mouth and she couldn’t seem to stop them. “Haven’t you?”
Marshall’s intent gaze caught hers and held. “I’ve had my share. What about you?”
She nodded. “One was enough for me, thanks.”
His gaze turned curious.
Dana knew she struggled with conversation because of fear. Stark, unrelenting fright. What if he asked about Frank? She’d told few people about him, Kerrie being one. Most people didn’t understand…couldn’t. Better to ask him first.
“So what horrible relationships have you had?” she asked in a rush.
He didn’t say a word and mortification and disappointment started to assault her. Take it easy. You’ll drive him off with your stupid questions.
Shifting toward her, he pinned her with a look that said he’d ease her curiosity. He looked at the fireplace. “Chilly in here. I could make a fire, then we could talk.”
She couldn’t argue with good, sound logic. After he’d gotten the fire roaring in the grate, she settled on the hearth to enjoy the heat and the hypnotic effect of dancing flames. Marshall did the same.
“It started when Eric and I were in high school. We were in sports together. Wrestling, football. Eric was always the better athlete.”
Dana allowed her gaze to glide over his broad shoulders, powerful arms and strong legs. “You’re kidding.”
“No. I wasn’t bad…just not as good as him. If it had been Eric with that interception today, Metcalf never would have caught him.”
She heard the self-recrimination in his tone, and wanted to smack him. “So what? I saw you run and you were incredibly fast. I saw how you played earlier in the game when they let the second string—”
“Second string.” He held up two fingers. “Second string.”
She sniffed. “Oh please. I never figured you for a man whose ego is so fragile that kind of thing would matter to you.”
“It does matter when you’re sixteen or seventeen years old. My ego was no better than most boys that age. My parents encouraged me, supported me. But you know how it is to be a teen with hormones blazing and foolish notions. Eric was my best friend, but I hated being second best.”
She recognized hurt behind the
power of his words. “But Eric is a wiry, almost skinny sort of man and you’re so powerful and muscular—”
Dana swallowed the rest of her words, wondering if she should check herself into the loony bin tomorrow. When would she learn to keep her trap shut?
Again he stared at her until her skin tingled under the force of his attention. A gentle smile flickered over his lips. “You know as well as I that muscle isn’t all. He had the coordination. He still has the ability.”
Nodding her answer, she wished she could disappear into a void and come back to find this conversation never happened.
“And what did this have to do with broken romances?” She held one hand up. “Wait. You’re going to tell me he stole your girlfriend, aren’t you?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. How did you know?”
She shrugged. “It’s classic. I think every man has had the experience at least once. And maybe every woman has had a boyfriend stolen from her too.” She sighed, well aware that if she didn’t watch it, he’d have her babbling about Frank. “I’m sorry. Go on.”
Marshall stood and headed for the bar. Snatching some fruit, he popped one plump green grape into his mouth and returned to the fireplace. “When I was seventeen I had this crush on a girl. Eva Steele. She was the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen up until then.” Marshall’s gaze traveled across Dana, and she felt her skin heat. “And Eric stole her from me.”
Dana’s breath almost stopped in surprise. “Oh my.”
“Yeah.” His lips twisted in a sardonic smile as he ate another grape. “She was a cheerleader, and you know the old thing about cheerleaders and football players.”
She recalled all too well the scene from earlier in the day. When she did nothing more than nod, he continued.
“Eva and I had dated for a couple months, since the beginning of the school year. Little did I know that she had the hots for Eric. One night, after football practice, I caught Eva kissing him behind the bleachers.”
“Oh, my God.”
“That’s the way I felt.”
“Eric betrayed you?”
Marshall shrugged. “In a way, yes. The way he tells it, Eva planted a kiss on him first. His teenage boy hormones took over before he could think about me.”
Fierce memories seemed to cross his face. Anger, passion, indisputable hurt. Even after years and years, he could feel those pains as if they’d happened a day ago, and she knew it. She felt it within her, as if she’d been the one deceived.
“What did you do then?”
He didn’t smile when he said, “I put his lights out for him.”
“Marshall!”
“I punched him, then ran away.” He chewed the last grape. “We didn’t talk for almost the rest of the year. He continued to go out with Eva. On graduation day we broke down and talked. I forgave him, realizing that if Eva wanted to lock lips with him, she didn’t really want me. And why would I want to be with a girl that didn’t want me?”
The fireplace didn’t seem warm enough to erase the chill in her heart. Somehow she knew the story didn’t end there. “Very mature thinking.”
He wiped his hands down the thighs of his jeans. “He went off to college with Eva in tow. They married and had a life together.”
“Tabitha is their child?” she asked, understanding for the first time why Marshall might have been drawn to the little girl in a special way.
Reflection on years gone by seemed to wear him down, and he no longer sat up straight. She wanted to caress those big shoulders, massage away the hurt and kiss away the past.
“Once Eric completed residency and moved back to Macon, I knew it would be difficult to stay friends.”
She frowned. “You still held a grudge against him?”
“No, because on the first day they were back in town…ten years ago, Eva came to me and wanted me to make love to her.”
Chapter Fifteen
Surprise slammed Dana again as she wondered how deep this story went. She wished she could add Eva to the list of people in Macon that need strangling. Then she realized Marshall had never answered her question about whether Tabitha was Eric and Eva’s child.
A startling thought hit her. “Oh, Marshall. You don’t mean…you don’t mean that Tabitha is your child?”
His expression went hard, filled with a deep-seated sense of irony. “No.” Looking into the flames, he outlined the next piece of the story. “She wanted me to commit adultery, and I refused. And I didn’t want her after all that time. I could never want a woman that lied and would betray my best friend.”
Adultery.
Most all her life she hadn’t understood people who went against their marriage vows by having affairs. She thought she’d never do anything like that. Until Frank had come along. If Marshall had slept with Eva, she wouldn’t have rebuked him. She couldn’t when she had almost broken the rules too.
“What happened then?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the whole story.
He shrugged. “I guess she and Eric did well together, because about nine months later Tabitha was born.”
Dana spoke like a robot all the thoughts she should have kept to herself. “What if…what if she isn’t Eric’s child? What if she went to another man in town?”
“What?” His sharp question, punctuated with a deep frown, made her backtrack.
“Maybe she found solace elsewhere that night. What if Tabitha is the union of Eva and another man? It sounds like she might be that type of person. Eva might have deceived Eric with another man when you wouldn’t…make love to her.”
Marshall nodded, his eyes glassy with what looked like fatigue or the trauma of past events. “The thought occurred to me already. A long time ago.”
She wanted to fidget to release tension as her shoulder muscles became tighter and tighter. Instead she stayed silent and still. An eternity seemed to pass before he looked at her. Firelight danced over his face, turning his skin to a golden glow.
She wanted to assure him that he shared no guilt for what had happened with Eva.
“You did the right thing, Marshall. In refusing her.”
“I know.” His gaze stayed steady on hers.
Clearing her throat, she said, “My aunt said that you were…um…married once.” Dana clasped her father’s ring, looking for strength to ask the next question. “What happened?”
A sarcastic grin curved his lips. “I made the second biggest mistake of my life. The second horrible romance, as you called it. I met Helen. Helen Beecher.”
Warming to the subject, despite the uneasy jumble in her stomach, she pressed onward. “When did you meet her?”
“Ten years ago at a dog show. I’d gone with Eva and Eric. I didn’t really want to be around Eva, but if I wanted Eric’s company she sometimes came with the package.”
His pause made her nod with understanding. “Of course. But it must have been awkward. Did Eva try to come onto you again?”
He pushed his hands through his hair as he straightened. “Thankfully, no.” He sighed. “Helen was an acquaintance of Lucille’s, though your aunt didn’t know Helen very well.”
Surprised rippled through her. “Aunt Lucille didn’t say anything about her being a friend.”
“Not a close friend. An acquaintance. Anyway, to make a very short story even shorter, we dated for months. Within the year we got hitched.”
The thought of him married to anyone made Dana’s muscles tighten with a strange dissatisfaction. Silence gathered around them, and although the fire blazed hot now, she knew she couldn’t move or she’d somehow break his ability to continue the story.
“You loved her. I can’t see you marrying a woman just…because.”
“I thought I loved her. I say thought because if I’d looked deep I would’ve realized I was marrying an Eva clone.”
Dawning awareness made her break into his explanation. “Trying to get the love from Helen that you could never get from Eva.”
He shifted until his legs went out and he
crossed them at the ankles. He rested his back against the bricks behind him. From the pensive look on his face, she saw the struggle running through him to answer her sensitive statement. Would he? Could he admit he’d repeated a losing pattern?
Instead he said, “She found a million ways to remind me every day that she looked a lot like Eva. Talked like Eva. Lied like Eva.”
When he stopped, Dana waited. She didn’t dare stir, the air around her thick with anticipation. He seemed to realize that she had no intention of commenting and foraged onward. “Helen knew all my vulnerabilities. There are things that are ingrained deep in me, and that includes my sense of values. I won’t apologize for them, and I won’t change.”
“I’ve seen that. Stubborn, I think, is the word.”
He didn’t smile. He crossed his arms, and his body conveyed the caged stiffness of a man closing down. “Helen thought it would be funny to taunt me by commenting on how handsome this guy was or that the man next door looked great in a muscle shirt. That sort of stuff.”
Dana cringed inside. “She wanted to make you jealous? Why?”
“She told me once I was cold. That I didn’t show her enough love. Enough…passion.”
Deep inside her stomach shivered, rippled with hot sensation. Shocked by her reaction, she let the sensation spill through her in crazy waves. Incredulous, she waited for the sparks of need to subside, but they continued like an ocean tide, battering at her defenses. In a million years she couldn’t imagine this man as cold. Somehow she knew if he kissed her, made love to her, the passion would burn her alive.
“If she made you jealous she figured you’d have more passion for her?”
He gave an ironic, sarcastic grin. “Oh, yeah. And you know, it worked. I got jealous. Flaming jealous after trying to ignore it for months. After five years of marriage I told her to keep her hands off of other men.”
“She touched other men?”
“Whenever and wherever she could. I was embarrassed more than once by the way she flaunted herself. By then I realized I didn’t really love her.”
“Do you believe it was all her fault?” The question catapulted from her, and by the grim expression lining his eyes and mouth, she wondered if he’d retaliate with livid words.
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