Homecoming

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Homecoming Page 10

by Rochelle Alers


  Shifting into neutral, he removed his left foot from the clutch, draped his right arm over the back of Dana’s seat, and stared at her delicate profile. She hadn’t put up her hair, and the lighter-colored strands shimmered like spun gold among the other tawny-brown strands. He curled his fingers into a tight fist to keep from touching her hair, knowing if he did he would be lost in the spell she unknowingly had woven to pull him in.

  He’d become a prisoner of longing—one of his own choosing. He wanted to lie in Dana Nichols’s scented arms just once—long enough to assuage the war of erotic emotions attacking him when he least expected them.

  “While we’re waiting, perhaps you can tell me why I should stay away from you.” His voice was soft and coaxing. It was the same tone he used whenever he wanted a patient to relax and feel at ease during an internal examination.

  Dana stared out the windshield, her gaze fixed on the flashing red lights. “It’s apparent you haven’t listened to what has been said about me.”

  Covering the brake, he unbuckled his seat belt. “I told you before that I don’t make it a habit of listening to gossip.”

  Turning her head, she went completely still. Tyler had moved closer, close enough for her to feel the moist whisper of his breath on her cheek. Staring mutely at him, Dana was confused by the mixed feelings surging through her. There was no doubt she was attracted to the tall, handsome doctor, more captivated than she wanted or needed to be. However, she was only going to be in Hillsboro for four months—just long enough to uncover enough evidence to prove her father’s innocence—just long enough to attempt to clear her family’s name, but not long enough to become involved with a man—especially one as enthralling as the one sitting inches from her.

  “I am the daughter of an alleged adulteress mother and an alleged murdering, pyromaniac suicidal father. And there’s no doubt the murder-suicide of Alicia and Harry Nichols has topped Hillsboro’s most-infamous-scandal list for the last two decades.

  “I plan to remain in Hillsboro for four months—long enough to interview anyone who was involved in my father’s trial and go through newspaper copy and court transcripts in an attempt to uncover the truth of what really happened that eventful day twenty-two years ago.”

  Curling his long fingers around the slender column of her neck, Tyler lowered his head and pressed his mouth to her ear to be heard over the roaring click-clacking sound of the passing freight train.

  “What if you don’t find what you want?”

  The liquid gold in her brown eyes shimmered with unbidden moisture. Blinking rapidly, she willed the tears not to fall. “Then I’ll leave Hillsboro knowing I’ve done all I could do to clear my family’s name.”

  Tyler registered Dana’s breathless whisper when she’d said family’s name. The two words hit him in the chest like stones hurled from a powerful slingshot. He’d grown up with family name and family honor branded on his brain and in his heart. As a Cole, he’d had the expected code of behavior drilled into him at an early age. His father constantly reminded him of the legacy he’d been given and stood to inherit as the only son of the family’s reigning patriarch.

  Tyler hadn’t gone into the family business, deciding instead on a career in medicine. However, becoming a doctor had not exempted him from his eventual responsibility of becoming head of the family once Martin Diaz Cole passed away. That fact did not disturb Tyler because he knew eighty-year-old Martin could be counted on to live at least until the century mark. Tyler’s grandfather had died at 103, and his grandmother would celebrate her 102nd year of life this upcoming Christmas. His parents had become health buffs, to the point where they exercised every day and monitored everything they ate or drank, and there was no doubt they would continue to enjoy a long and healthy existence for many years to come.

  Then I’ll leave Hillsboro knowing I’ve done all I could do to clear my family’s name. Dana’s statement returned with vivid clarity. He wanted her to clear her family’s name, but he didn’t want her to leave Hillsboro. Not when he’d found himself ensnared in a web of seduction from which he could not and did not want to escape.

  “Let me help you,” he crooned.

  Closing her eyes, Dana felt the runaway pumping of her heart in her ears over the roaring sound of the passing train. She shut out the sound ringing bells, the countless number of freight cars moving slowly along the tracks, the sight of the flashing red lights, and the drugging fragrance of Tyler’s cologne mingling with the distinctive masculine scent of his flesh.

  She forgot why she had come back to Hillsboro, that she’d just buried her last surviving family member, and that she was the last Hillsboro Sutton Nichols, as she gloried in the cool touch of Tyler Cole’s hand on the nape of her neck.

  “Help me how?” Her sultry voice had lowered noticeably.

  “I’ll help you get the best private investigator in the state.”

  Pulling back, Dana stared at him, noting his stoic expression. “I can’t permit that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I need to do this myself.”

  “What if you can’t do it?”

  “I can do it,” she insisted stubbornly, “because this is what I’ve been trained to do.”

  “But you said you’re a journalist.”

  “I am an investigative reporter.”

  Tyler blinked once as a shiver of uneasiness snaked up his spine. Reopening a case, especially a celebrated murder case in a small town, was certain to rekindle resentment while setting up warring factions among townspeople. And if Dana did prove her father’s innocence, then would she attempt to uncover the guilty person or persons, thereby putting herself at risk?

  “Will you let me know if I can help you—in any way possible?”

  “Why, Tyler?”

  He flashed a half smile. “I’m surprised you have to ask me that.”

  “But I am asking.”

  “Because I like you, Dana Nichols.”

  “You don’t know me,” she retorted.

  “I like what I see.”

  “Is that all you have to go by? My looks?”

  “It’s more than enough. At least for now.”

  Dana shook her head. “No, Tyler, it’s not going to work. I’m not going to become involved with you, then walk away like nothing ever happened.”

  “Then, don’t leave,” he insisted.

  “I have nothing here to make me stay.”

  “What if I try and convince you to stay?”

  “What are you offering, Dr. Cole? Marriage and a happily-ever-after?” She was barely able to keep the laughter from her voice.

  “Maybe.” Tyler wasn’t certain where the single word had come from, but it was out and he could not retract it.

  Dana sobered quickly, staring wordlessly at him, her heart pounding an erratic rhythm, stunned by his vacant response and expression. Moments later, her eyes crinkled in a smile.

  “Thanks, but no, thanks.”

  Tyler stiffened as though she had struck him. It was the first time, even in jest, that he’d proposed to a woman, and his masculine ego wouldn’t permit him to accept an outright rejection without an explanation.

  “Have you ever been married?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  Dana hesitated for several seconds. “I thought I was.”

  “What happened?”

  “It ended after a couple of years without much fanfare.”

  Tyler lifted an eyebrow. “You left him?”

  “No,” she replied honestly. “He left me.”

  Taking in a quick sharp breath, he shook his head in disbelief. How could a man leave a woman who looked like Dana Nichols? He’d found her perfect. She had it all—looks and brains.

  “He was a fool, Dana.”

  “I don’t think so. The relationship was going nowhere.”

  “Why? Because he wouldn’t commit?”

  She shook her head. “It was just the opposite. I wou
ldn’t commit.”

  “Why not?”

  Her lingering bitterness surfaced. “Because I don’t trust men. What about you, Tyler? How old are you, and were you ever married?” Dana’s voice faded to a hushed stillness as the last freight car rumbled past.

  A slight smile softened his mouth as he gave her a lingering stare. “I’m forty-one, and I’ve never been married.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’ve haven’t met that special woman.”

  “Does she exist?”

  “My mother says she does.”

  “And you didn’t answer my question. Does she exist?”

  Tyler lowered his gaze. “There was a time when I believed she didn’t. But now I’m not so certain.”

  “Why?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “That was before I met you, Miss Dana Nichols. Before I was complete blindsided by your incredible beauty.”

  “Tyler, please don’t say—”

  “No, Dana,” he cut in softly, stopping her words. “Don’t tell me what not to say, because I always say what I feel, not what someone wants to hear.”

  She shook her head. “Then what you want is not going to work.”

  He tightened his hold on her neck. “If it doesn’t work, then it wasn’t meant to be. But if it does work, then I believe we’re in for the most exciting ride of our lives.” His gaze bore into hers, seemingly challenging her to refute his quiet assurance.

  His fingertips caressed the silken flesh covering her throat before his hand came down slowly. Turning away, he secured his seat belt. A smothering hush swelled inside the car, neither occupant attempting to break the silence. The heat of the blistering sun rose in shimmering waves off the iron rails, making visibility nearly impossible. The scorching rays had parched the grass, turning the landscape into a carpet of brown withered vegetation.

  Shifting into gear, Tyler drove over the grading, ignoring the mocking voice inside his head that told him not to pursue Dana Nichols, that she was a woman he should stay away from. But he could not stay away from her because he did not want to stay away from her although she’d openly admitted she didn’t trust men. Her declaration made him wonder if her distrust had stemmed from her father’s betrayal. After all, the man had murdered her mother, then taken his own life, making her an orphan. It was obvious Dana had been faced with issues of loss and abandonment for most of her life, unlike Tyler, who’d grown up with both parents who’d nurtured and protected him until adulthood.

  Tyler picked up a pair of sunglasses off the console, placing them on the bridge of his nose, and then pressed a button on the dashboard, turning on a CD player. The soft haunting sounds of an acoustical guitar with an accompanying muted trumpet filled the BMW. Increasing his speed, he maneuvered around a slow-moving tractor lumbering along the narrow road. The car shot forward in a burst of speed as trees, houses, and grazing livestock whizzed past in a blinding blur.

  Closing her eyes and settling back on the leather seat, Dana lost herself in the music, the heat and sensually haunting scent of the man sharing her space. She wanted to tell Tyler to stop the car and let her out. She needed a few moments to herself to think—think about what he wanted from her and what she was able to offer him. He sought a relationship and she could not afford one—at least not at this time in her life.

  “Tyler?” She hadn’t opened her eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to sleep with me?”

  His head snapped around, the car veering sharply to the right. Returning his attention to the road in front of him, Tyler straightened the wheel, regaining control of the vehicle. “What!” The word literally exploded from his mouth.

  “You heard me.”

  “Did you ask me if I wanted to sleep you?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Is that why you think I’ve asked you to go out with me?”

  Dana opened her eyes. Her mouth was smiling even though her eyes were cold. His expression was a mask of stone. “Let’s be adult about this,” she said. “You can stop at the nearest motel and I’ll assuage your curiosity about Alicia Nichols’s daughter. I’m even willing to pay for the room.”

  She prayed he wouldn’t take her up on her challenge, because there was no way she would be able to take off her clothes for Tyler, lie with him, and then walk away without a backward look. But if she did agree to see him during her stay in Hillsboro, she knew she had to assume control, set the limits of her involvement with him.

  Slowing the roadster, Tyler maneuvered off the road onto to a narrow, dusty shoulder, turning off the engine. He pushed open his door, stepping out into the intense heat. Less than thirty seconds later, Dana stood on the side of the road with him, his fingers curled around her upper arms.

  Pulling her up close to his chest, he struggled valiantly not to lose his temper. His dark face was set in a vicious expression as he clenched his teeth so tightly intense pain radiated in his jaws.

  “You better never say anything like that to me ever again.”

  Dana’s temper flared. “And don’t you dare tell me what I can say. I merely asked you a question, and you have the most annoying habit of being evasive by answering my question with another question. Let’s get something straight before we embark on something we may regret for the rest of our lives.”

  “What?” he ground out between his teeth.

  “No head games, Tyler,” she warned, her eyes narrowing.

  His expression did not change. “What else do you want?”

  “Complete candor with each other.”

  A half smile softened his mouth. “Anything else?” he drawled.

  “No pleas for a commitment. I have a plan, but that plan doesn’t include staying in Hillsboro, so don’t ask me to stay. And last, but certainly not least, don’t ask me to sleep with you.”

  Tyler stared at her, his expression now mirroring surprise and shock. He’d never met a woman like Dana Nichols. Whereas most women wanted a commitment from a man, she didn’t. And because he wanted to date her, he would agree to her demands. Moreover, she’d challenged him, and he’d never had a woman challenge him.

  He only had four months to convince her to stay in Hillsboro, and he planned to use anything and everything at his disposal to get her to change her mind.

  A slow smile deepened the slashes in his cheeks. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Dana’s delicate jaw went slack as her mouth dropped open. She’d issued demands most men would’ve laughed at or rejected outright, yet Tyler had readily accepted them.

  “Really?”

  A chuckle rumbled in his broad chest. “Yes, really.” Curving an arm around her waist, he opened the passenger-side door for her. “Let’s get back in the car before we come down with heatstroke.”

  She slipped onto the leather seat, pulling the seat belt over her chest. She felt an unexpected warmth flow through her and it had nothing to do with the weather. She did not know how she knew it, but not only was Tyler Cole visually perfect, he was also extraordinary.

  She’d come back to Hillsboro for a particular purpose, and nowhere in her plan did it include succumbing to a handsome doctor’s sensual presence.

  Nine

  Tyler drove, enjoying the soft sound of music coming from the powerful speakers and the presence of the woman sitting beside him. After their roadside altercation, they hadn’t exchanged a word. It was as if everything that needed to be said had been.

  Dana had agreed to go out with him, but not without requirements. He’d readily agree not to engage in head games because he’d always found the exercise detrimental to any relationship. And he’d always been open and frank with any woman with whom he’d been involved. All of them knew outright not expect a declaration of marriage because of his nomadic lifestyle.

  But all of that had changed since he’d come to Hillsboro. He had built a home, put down roots, and since coming face-to-face with Dana Nichols, he had unconsciously reassessed whether he wanted
to spend the rest of his life alone.

  He’d convinced himself that he had it all when deep down inside he knew he didn’t. He had material wealth, had met and exceeded his professional expectations, but when he went home it was to loneliness. He kept up with his favorite sports teams, had a gourmet kitchen to concoct exotic dishes, and had set up a library filled with books and an intensive music collection. Occasionally a long-distance telephone call to a family member sometimes rounded out his day.

  He’d ordered a Steinway piano, and had contracted to have an Olympic-size pool and basketball court installed on his property—items he now thought of as toys—toys to keep him amused when he wasn’t working.

  He’d thought his world perfect until he met Dana Nichols. A single glance at her beautiful face, the slight touch of her mouth against his, and the sound of her sultry voice calling his name had proven him wrong.

  How ironic, he thought. He had come to Hillsboro to put down roots, while Dana had returned to her place of birth for a short stay.

  It was also ironic that he’d agreed to a non-sexual relationship with her when his initial response to her had been wholly physical.

  Shrugging a shoulder, he dismissed his musings, humming under his breath to a song on the compact disc. He turned onto MS 1—the Great River Road. The sluggish brown Mississippi River wound its way southward as he headed north. A sign indicating the number of miles to Greenville came into view.

  “’The Delta begins in the lobby of the Peabody Hotel in Memphis and ends on Catfish Row in Vicksburg.’ That’s a quote from Greenville journalist David Cohn,” Dana said in a drawling Southern cadence.

  “This region has some fascinating history,” Tyler observed.

  “That’s because of the Mississippi River. It has created the rich soil that made cotton production so profitable and Greenville a vital port used by the massive Delta plantations to ship their bales to market. But all of that changed during the Civil War battle for Vicksburg.

 

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