Lies of the Heart (Heart Romance #3)

by Laurie LeClair

  Gil sighed heavily. “He speculated that you would sell it and use the money for starting up that program for troubled teens, like you’ve always wanted to do.”

  The stiffness seemed to siphon out of Chance. “Phew! I thought he’d want me to run the damn place.”

  “Ah…” Gil choked out, “he does, for a time.”

  “Christ, how am I going to work around booze? Didn’t he ever think of that?” His strained voice vibrated in the tiny space. Tension crackled like an electrical current around him.

  Gil hesitated for a second, and then plunged in, saying, “There’s also a condition attached to selling.” For a long moment he stared fully at Tessa. “I’m sorry about this. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen to reason.”

  Her heartbeat thudded in her chest. All the blood left her head, making her dizzy. “It involves me, doesn’t it?” It sounded like her voice came from a long distance away.

  “Afraid so.”

  Chance swore loudly and viciously. “Spit it out, Gil.”

  “You have to keep the pub, run it for six months, bring it back into the black—”

  “Not about the pub, about her.” Chance jerked his chin in Tessa’s direction.

  “This part is about her.”

  Thick, pulsating silence throbbed in the cramped stock room. Father Tom shuffled his feet. Tessa gulped hard, wondering what on earth she had to do with a watering hole, as granny called it.

  Piping up, she asked, “I don’t have to give up my share in the beauty salon, do I? To help run this place?”

  “No, no, nothing like that,” Gil hastened to reassure her. “I only wish it were that simple… He, ah, says Chance can have it all on the condition that he put a stop to the feuding between the Deverauxs and the Warfields.”

  Chance let out a harsh bark of laughter. “What does he think I am a miracle worker or something?”

  His family had thrown him into the ring of a battle he didn’t want to nor had any inkling to halt, Tessa realized. A cold, hard stone lodged itself in her heart. All our lives we’ve been conditioned to hate each other. Nothing in the last ten years has changed that. There was no doubt about it; the man who’d stolen her heart years ago and stomped on it hated her and her granny.

  Some kind of inner warning took hold of Tessa, gripping her in a wave of anxiety. However Chance was to go about this mending of ways, she knew it concerned her. Bravely, she asked in a choked whisper, "What do I have to do with it all?”

  Looking from her, to Chance, and then back to her again, the lawyer said, “You two must marry.”

  Chapter 4

  Chance silently closed his grandmother’s bedroom door. On the other side, she snored softly, sedated for the night. He blew out a hot breath. She’d known, too. It seemed granddad had talked it over with her some time ago and she’d reluctantly agreed. Marriage to Tessa Warfield!

  With a heavy ball of dread resting in his middle, he walked the few paces down the carpeted hall and into his old room. The light spilling in from the hallway revealed that much of it still looked the way it had the last time he was here. The double bed shoved against one wall, a dresser in the corner. On the walls hung poster after poster of motorcycles, his passion for more years than he cared to count.

  A light, snapping on in the house across the street, drew him to his window. He pushed aside the sheer white panel and heavier blue drape to get a better view. He gulped hard. Directly across from his room, in her pretty pink and white bedroom, he watched Tessa slowly dance. Wonder rained down on him at her graceful ballerina moves.

  “That’s right. She always wanted to be a dancer. I wonder why she didn’t ever become one…” Each gentle glide of her hand, each delicate arch of her body in her white leotard mesmerized him. Just watching her, he could almost hear the haunting music she danced to.

  A low tug in his abdomen and the heat rushing through his blood shook him to his core. He wanted her. And he had for ages. Somewhere deep inside he finally fully acknowledged that fact. But, he figured, after years of following his wild side and getting into risky situations because of it, he’d learned his lesson. Surely he’d be able to squash any latent feelings for the sexy redhead. “No such luck,” he muttered, the knot of desire coiling a little tighter. He’d been closer to her tonight than ever before and he knew he wanted to get closer still.

  He grimaced, and then ran a hand down his face. His gaze remained fixated on her fluid motions while his head hammered away at the yawning gap separating them. Much more than a street kept them apart.

  “How could granddad do this to me?” he wondered for the hundredth time since hearing the news just a couple of hours ago. Inside he still reeled from it all. “He knew I never wanted to marry again.”

  Marriage equaled disaster in his book. He didn’t owe Tessa Warfield anything, but he knew what a lousy husband he’d been in the past and wasn’t about to inflict any other woman with him ever again.

  It hit him then. His granddad’s words rushed back to him and he swore that the owner of that gravelly voice stood beside him at this very moment, saying, “Face your fears head on, my boy. Otherwise they’ll eat you alive.”

  So much made sense now. “The pub to face my fear of falling off the wagon. And Tessa for my fear of failing another woman…” And in forcing Chance to face himself, granddad wanted an end to the decades-old feud. “Why the hell couldn’t you have done that yourself, instead of laying it all on my shoulders?”

  Shame washed over him at the bolt of anger tearing through him. But he couldn’t halt the sense of betrayal any more than he could draw his next lung full of air. “Why couldn’t you have made this so much easier and let me get on with my own life? Now I’ve got to bide my time and fix the mess you got me in.”

  His yearning to fulfill his long-time dreams reared its head. An ache shot through him. He had so much to offer kids. From all he’d learned from the mistakes he’d made, he could help them, steer them in the right direction instead of following the wrong path like he had for so long.

  “So close…” He clutched the fabric in his hand tighter as a war raged inside of him. “Run the pub and wed Tessa for six months, then I can walk away from both without a backward glance and have everything I ever wanted.” The reward in the end outweighed the hardships he’d face over the months to come.

  Unless I fail on both counts. A stab of fright lanced through him at the thought. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. He swiped the moisture away, hoping to erase the fear just as easily. But a thread of it lingered in his gut, tying itself in a knot.

  Mentally, he considered the damage of delaying his project even longer if he didn’t go along with the terms of the will. He made decent money as a mechanic, but still hadn’t tucked nearly enough away to launch his own program for troubled teens. Any way he viewed it, he had no real choice unless he started out on a shoestring budget. He pictured fitful starts and stops with that scenario. The kids would suffer greatly if that happened. Years yawned in front of him. Grimacing, he shook his head.

  Across the way, she twirled again and, as if captivated, he simply stared, transfixed. Under the concealing clothes she normally wore who would have thought Tessa had such a dynamite body, slender yet with curves any man in his right mind would drool over. He swallowed hard imagining how she’d feel beneath him.

  Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he conjured up the reoccurring dream he had of her. “A dream like no other,” he whispered, recalling how all his senses sprang to life each and every time he happened to drift into the erotic sequence of making love to her. Just thinking about it now, he could taste her on his lips. “The sweetest peaches…” And her alabaster skin felt like satin under his fingertips. Her scent, light and haunting, came to him now. “Lavender, just like she was wearing tonight.”

  Quickly, he shook himself out of his stupor, afraid if he pursued it for too long, he’d never be free of her powerful magnetic pull.

  If his he
ad had clearly considered the ramifications of fulfilling his granddad’s wishes, then his heart lurched at the emotional consequences.

  After Gil had dropped his bombshell, Chance had whipped around to face Tessa. That one, all-too-brief gaze she’d shot him had torn him in two. Mixed in with the shock, he’d seen need crying out from the depths, a hunger he could only claim as a desperate desire for love. Knowing her upbringing and her kin, he could readily understand that emptiness inside of her. Yet, he hadn’t counted on an echoing response deep in his soul. “Why her, why me… Why this?”

  Blowing out another hot breath, he tried to brush away that unshakable connection he experienced with the woman. He failed. Their bond ran deeper and stronger than he cared to admit. “But marriage?”

  By marrying him she could give him everything he ever wanted, but in return what could he possibly do for her? What benefit would she get out of all of it? “Maybe…a chance at a real life without her granny’s controlling ways…”

  Looking now, he detected a hint of sadness in Tessa’s graceful movements. It struck a chord within him clear to his core. There seemed to be something alive and vital missing from both their lives. Dreams denied.

  Without thought, he released the curtain abruptly. The fabric swung back into place. He swiveled around, stalked out of his room, down the creaky stairs, and then out of his house.

  Half way across the deserted street, the crisp night air penetrated his thin shirt. Determination won out against the chill. Marching up the walkway to the pristine white, two-story house, his feet crunching in the gravel, Chance heard the first strains of the beautiful classical music. The teasing melody plucked at his heartstrings, wrapping around him.

  He took the porch steps two at a time, and then rapped his knuckles on the edge of the screen door, rattling the hinges. Suddenly the music died. Momentary regret swamped him. Next, he detected muffled voices from within, one growing closer.

  Finally, the door swung open and he stood face to face with Tessa. Clutching a fluffy pink towel to her chest, she exclaimed in a harsh whisper, “What in the world are you doing here? Don’t you know you could get yourself shot?”

  Her concern and theatrics brought a chuckle from deep inside. “By who? You?”

  “Tessa, who is that?” the sharply barked question came from the bowels of the old house.

  The lady before him pointed her thumb over her shoulder and said to him, “Her, that’s who.” To her granny, she yelled, “Nobody to worry about.”

  “Well, get rid of them and go to bed. For land’s sake, it’s nearly ten o’clock.”

  Tessa rolled her eyes heavenward, making Chance laugh out loud even more. “Hush!” She shoved open the screen door, coming out to join him, while she closed the inner door. Standing in front of him now, she gazed up at him.

  For a moment, Chance caught and held his breath. Being this close to her, inhaling the scent of her, he had great difficulty in remembering why he was here on her doorstep.

  “Shoo! Go home, now, before granny comes chasing after you.”

  The spiral curls, caught up in a ponytail at the crown of her head, bounced as she nodded in the direction of his darkened house. A shiver racked her body and she hugged herself.

  “Can’t do that, sunshine.” He grinned as she scowled. Yanking his shirt over his head, he shook free of it. He tugged down his T-shirt with one hand while handing Tessa his gray shirt with the other. When she stared at it blankly, he put it on her, assisting her with the armholes, and then carefully smoothing it over her. All the while she easily complied as if in a trance. “You’ve got something I want.”

  “Me?” Her usually soft voice cracked.

  “Yes, you.”

  “If this has anything to do with earlier tonight, then just forget it.”

  Something wrenched inside him. He shrugged awkwardly, saying, “I know I’m no prize, but there’s got to be something I have that you want. We could trade.”

  She went perfectly still, now clutching the towel in a white-knuckled grip. He swore she stopped breathing altogether. In the dim light from the moon, he thought she lost all her color.

  Shaking her head, she said, “Granny would never…no, I can’t. She’d never go along with it.”

  With a sneer, he asked, “Why, does she want the pub so much?” It still rankled that his granddad would blackmail him with the fact he’d give everything to old lady Warfield if Chance didn’t go along with the terms of the will. That alone should have made his decision a foregone conclusion.

  “You know she hates drink of any kind. Calls it the devil’s brew.”

  It may have been something he saw flash in her eyes, censor perhaps, that clued him into how she’d taken the news of his being a recovering alcoholic. A part of him shriveled up. “I’m no saint. Never have been.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “You didn’t have to say a damn word.”

  She visibly cringed. “It’s just that granny says…well, that it’s immoral,” she trailed off.

  “In other words, I’m immoral.” Her silence spoke volumes. Through the ache in his chest, he trudged onward. “Six months, that’s all I’m asking for. You give me what I want and I’ll give you what you want.”

  “A baby,” she blurted out, and then slapped a hand over her mouth.

  That stopped him cold. Shock raced through him. He figured she’d say anything but what she had. “A baby?”

  Slowly, she dropped her hand. “Yep, that’s what I want. Always have.” The hint of longing in her voice pierced his heart.

  Something stirred deep down inside him. A wistfulness tugged at him. One time, long ago, he’d dreamed of having a child. But that had been before, before he’d lost his wife, before he became a drunk. He had little to nothing to offer a wife and even less to a baby. It was one thing to help troubled teens and yet entirely another to create a perfectly innocent baby, thrusting him into inheriting a wretched past filled with demons lapping at his heels.

  “Tessa, who’s out there?” The older woman’s voice grew closer. Chance heard her shuffling along the floor coming their way.

  Panic crossed Tessa’s face. “Yes or no? Tell me now before she comes out here.”

  He gulped hard. “I…”

  “Hurry up. What I tell her when she finds us all depends on how you answer me now.”

  Just then the door swung open and Chance got his first glimpse of the elderly woman who hated him since the day he was born. She looked the same: silver hair in a bun, lips pinched up in blatant disapproval, glaring dark eyes, short and thin, almost wiry frame. “What in blue blazes are you doing here? And at this hour?”

  A cocky grin at besting this old enemy broke across his face. He winked down at Tessa, mouthed the word yes, and then turned back to the older woman. “Why, Mrs. Warfield, I’m here to ask for your granddaughter’s hand in marriage.”

  Chapter 5

  The high-pitched shriek from her granny rang in Tessa’s head. Chance’s hearty laughter soon followed. He easily moved her off to the side, tapped her gently on the nose, and then said in a low voice, “I think you should go lock up the gun and hide the frying pans, sunshine.”

  Wide-eyed Tessa stared at his broad back as he entered the house. “Oh Lord, they’re going to kill each other. I just know it.” She caught the screen door right before it banged shut, and then went in after him.

  Mentally kicking herself for revealing her heart’s desire, Tessa knew the reason behind it. Lately, she’d thought of nothing else, especially after hearing her two best friends and business partners were expecting. Envy nearly strangled her heart.

  In the old-fashioned room, he dominated the delicate Victorian furnishings as he moved silently toward the chairs flanking the large fireplace with its carved oak mantelpiece. But somehow he seemed oblivious to the sharp contrast as he plopped down in a dainty green velvet chair across from her granny’s. The cream-colored dollies on the arms slipped a little and he nonchalantly fixed
them.

  “Get out of here,” Granny said, waving a flowered hankie in front of her colorless face while gathering her floor-length navy blue robe to her bosom.

  “Can’t do that, Mrs. W.” Chance stretched out his long legs and locked his fingers behind his head as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Granny, can I get you your medicine?” Tessa dropped the pink towel on a nearby table and stood a few paces away from them, hugging herself. Chance’s shirt surrounded her with welcoming warmth and his scent. It was odd she clung to something of his so tight. But she knew if ever she was to have a chance at a baby, it would have to be with a man who could stand up to granny. No other man in town fit that description more aptly than Chance Deveraux.

  But, Lord, she’d be taking a risk at marrying him. That’s if granny ever agreed to the union. But, if by some miracle she did… Her mouth went dry at the danger of unwittingly revealing her emotions to him. Could she keep everything bottled up tight for six months? She sincerely doubted it when her heart leapt at the just the sight of him and she spilled out her thoughts whenever his hypnotizing gray eyes fixed on her. But what other choice did she have if she wanted a baby so badly? Somehow I’ll have to keep my secrets locked away from Chance and granny. I just have to.

  “Go, child, get it and some ice water, too. Then call the police to get this riff-raff out of my house. And while you’re at it take off that shirt. It’s his, isn’t it?” Twin spots of red dotted granny’s cheeks as she glared at Chance.

  Looking down at the soft, gray shirt, a well of shame and regret washed over her. Torn between pleasing her grandmother and keeping the comforting clothing on, she knew she had to abide by her granny’s wishes. “Yes, it’s his.” She caught the hem in her hands and began to tug it upward.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Chance said. His firm command stopped her in her tracks. “You’re shivering even now. Keep it on.” To granny, he said, “We have business to discuss. I want to marry your granddaughter.”