He didn’t try to get close to her. He remained by the bed, his eyes bleak. “You can trust me, Nola. I know you don’t believe it, but it’s the truth.”
She left the drab motel room without responding to his last statement. Trust, once betrayed, was hard to rebuild. Her anger had bled away, leaving her in turmoil. Anger was a sharp, healthy emotion, burning fiery hot and searing away doubt and uncertainty. Everything was black-and-white in the midst of anger.
This aftermath was . . . uneasy . . . uncomfortable . . . impossible to understand.
Putting Marc and his perfidy out of her mind, she drove the back roads of town aimlessly. Dogwoods and azaleas were in bloom. Spring was in full array, and Nola realized anew how much she had missed her home turf. She loved Chicago, but Resnick formed the essence of who she was.
She couldn’t walk away. Even if it meant marrying a man who didn’t love her. Even if, in the end, Marc was the only choice. Knowing what he was capable of made her smarter, warier. If it came down to it, she would use him for her own ends.
A few days ago, she would have considered such a choice cold and mercenary. But if Marc truly loved her and wanted to make up for his incredible, almost tragic stupidity, she would accept his offer of marriage . . . but only if there were no other choice.
She purposely delayed going home until she had calmed down enough to act normally. If Tanner realized what Marc had done, there would be hell to pay. She might not have known Tanner very long, but she knew enough to realize that he was the kind of man who would protect those weaker than him.
In his big, well-honed body, she sensed a great capacity for gentleness. She had watched him work. His strength was apparent when he was ripping at rotten boards with his bare hands. But when the task required delicacy, his touch was careful. Almost tender . . . like a lover with his woman.
Her crazy thoughts made her shake her head ruefully. She realized in that instant that her stomach had settled and her mind was clearer. Time to deal with one of the other men in her life.
Tanner met her in the foyer. He must have seen her car drive up. He had just come from the shower, his hair damp, his feet still bare. But he was wearing black dress slacks and a pristine white cotton oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His aftershave was a potent but subtle mix of lime and something woodsy.
He looked trustworthy and sexy at the same time. Her stomach fell to her knees.
When he smiled, he went from attractive to dead sexy. “Hey, Nola. I was hoping I might interest you in a bite to eat. My treat.” His gaze scanned her dress and shoes. “Though since you’re all dolled up, maybe you have other plans.”
She shook her head slowly. “No. And I’m starving.” She appreciated his generosity of spirit. She’d fired the last shot in their nasty attic battle, and it had been pretty low. That he was now overlooking her mean-spirited parting words made her ashamed. He clearly meant to make a fresh start. “I’d love to have dinner with you,” she said slowly. And somewhere from inside her, a smile bloomed.
No matter how hard she tried, she could never anticipate Tanner’s intentions. Instead of taking her to a restaurant, he ordered hamburgers from the diner, picked them up on the way through town, and drove her to an old barn beside a creek near the county line.
She smothered a smile and stepped out of the car to follow him. He scooped up their food, added a blanket and two canned soft drinks, and led her to a grassy spot on the other side of the fence. As he set out their meal, she surveyed the ambience. “Does this place have a particular significance?”
“I own the land, so we’re not trespassing.”
She scooted down beside him and unwrapped a burger. The smell was only half as divine as the taste. “That’s not what I meant,” she mumbled, adding a handful of fries to the gazillion calories she was consuming. “Why here?”
He handed her a Diet Coke. “I used to bring girls to this barn to make out. I thought you might like it.”
She choked on a bite of burger as his droll explanation sank in. “Please tell me you aren’t planning to seduce me in there.”
He shook his head. “God, no. It’s full of spiders and manure and who knows what else. But it’s peaceful here. Quiet. I thought you might enjoy a change of scenery.”
She bit her lip, surprised that he had noticed something she hadn’t even realized herself. The tension from the ticking clock was getting to her. Tanner didn’t know about the will, but he had picked up on her state of mind. She finished her meal and stretched out with her head in his lap. Twilight was creeping across the land, and the first lights of evening were dotting the sky. “I missed the stars while I was in Chicago,” she said drowsily. “I’d forgotten how bright they are here . . . and how many of them I used to see.”
Tanner had left the radio turned on in the car. The music drifting via the night breeze was the perfect backdrop for two people hovering on the brink of something new. Tanner’s big palm warmed her abdomen. She closed her eyes, floating on a cloud of contentment. Her problems still lurked out there somewhere . . . beyond the perimeter of their own little world . . . but for now she was happy to ignore them.
At one point, she felt Tanner’s erection when she turned her head and it brushed her cheek. That he wanted her was no surprise. He’d made that clear. But for some reason, he was backing off . . . holding himself in check. His reticence frustrated and confused her.
Finally, Tanner addressed the elephant in the room. “When do you meet with the lawyer, Nola?”
She tucked her hands behind her neck. “Tomorrow afternoon.”
“Then I have a proposition for you. When you see how much money there is, why don’t you sit down and make a list of everything you want done to the house. I can go over it with you and rough out some figures so you can get an idea of the cost.”
“You’re trying to make me see that I’m being unreasonable and foolish, aren’t you?”
She said it without heat.
He didn’t try to deny it. “I think when you acknowledge the enormous price tag in time and money, you might make a different choice.”
She bit her lip. “Our disagreement on this subject is more than a Mars/Venus thing. You and I have a different worldview entirely.”
He shrugged, finishing off his drink and crushing the can in his hand. “How so?”
She sat up and curled her legs beneath her, facing him. “You aren’t a nester because you’ve lived in so many places.” The kind of travel Tanner’s childhood and youth had afforded him gave a person a different patina of sophistication . . . not like Marc’s arrogant assurance born of money and privilege. Tanner had the ability to blend in anywhere, anytime, and be comfortable, whether it be stripped to the skin in the hot sun working on a ladder or entertaining a woman with dinner and dancing.
He nodded. “I’m not and I have.”
She smiled gently. “That explains it. We’re coming at this house thing from two diametrically opposed perspectives. You can’t possibly understand what it means for me to be sleeping within the same walls where untold generations of my family slept as well. I see them in my head, Tanner. I hear them speak to me.”
He pretended to shudder. “Please tell me that’s not in the vein of ‘I see dead people.’ ”
She laughed. “No. As far as I can tell, Lochhaven doesn’t have any ghosts. But even so, those ancestors are real. And I owe them something.”
“Because of blood?”
“Blood . . . tradition . . . history. I can’t escape it.”
His smile was wry. “From where I’m sitting, you don’t want to.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe not.” Something struck her. “If my house is such a run-down, impossible-to-renovate money pit, why do you think anyone else would want it? That doesn’t make sense.”
He didn’t answer her right away, but the discomfort in his posture and the wariness in his eyes finally betrayed the truth. Her mouth gaped, and a stone settled in her stomach. “Oh, my God. You thin
k someone, maybe even you, would buy it to tear down the house and use the land.” Perhaps he’d been trying to tell her this from the beginning and hadn’t had the heart.
Or maybe she had refused to listen. She firmed her chin, her eyes burning and her throat tight. “Absolutely not. That’s out of the question.” She was furious with him suddenly . . . for ruining what had been an amicable, quasi-romantic, perfect evening. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
He held up his hands. “I’m sorry. But my offer stands. After you see the lawyer, and if you’re dead set on this project, at least let me help you make some kind of plan.”
She frowned. “You swear you won’t inflate the figures to make me panic?”
His eyes narrowed, a white line bracketing his lips. “I’m not a liar, Nola. I’ll be as truthful as I know how. But I won’t sugarcoat it either. What happens after that will be your decision.”
She had impugned his honor, and he was pissed.
She took his hand, abashed to realize that she had deliberately insulted him twice in one day. He deserved better. “Let’s call a truce,” she said quietly. “I think we need to agree to disagree. I don’t want to argue with you anymore.” She put her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder.
He was stiff at first. But gradually the night and the music and their embrace worked magic. Soon their bodies were in harmony again.
She could have initiated sex. She wanted to. But she sensed that the time was not right. Even so, she couldn’t resist the urge to press her body to his, to feel the evidence that he wanted her. His hand stroked her back, his palm warm and hard. She felt his lips in her hair. She wanted to stay in this moment indefinitely, savoring Tanner’s quiet strength and his tough masculinity. She felt feminine and fragile in his arms, and the curl of arousal in the pit of her stomach was like a much-anticipated gift, waiting to be unwrapped.
When they parted reluctantly and finally headed home, Nola stared out her window at the spangled sky. She was lonely, and the secret she was keeping from Tanner about Marc made her restless.
She dared to put a hand on Tanner’s thigh and was pleased when he let it stay there. In front of the house, he shut off the engine and looked at her in the semidarkness. “I enjoyed tonight,” he said roughly. “Thank you for coming with me.”
“The night’s not over yet,” she said softly. “Make love to me, Tanner. Let’s forget about everything else. Just you and me. A man and a woman. Two almost-strangers in the same place at the same time who feel a connection.”
His jaw was rigid. “I feel a lot more for you than a connection, Red. You make me want things I’ve never wanted before.”
“Like what?” Her words were barely a whisper.
He unbuckled his seat belt and hers as well. He cupped her cheeks, then slid both of his hands into her hair, cradling her head. “Like home . . . and permanence . . . and a future.” He punctuated each one with a breath-stealing kiss.
What if she was wrong about Tanner Nash? She no longer trusted her own judgment. Maybe her newfound sensuality was demanding to be fed, and she was confusing simple lust with something more.
Oh, hell. How did a woman ever know if a man was on the level?
Tanner kissed her softly, his tenderness undermining her defenses, or what was left of them. She wanted him so badly. Wanted to see desire in his eyes, feel it in his touch.
She put her hands on his, holding them in place. Her lips found his, and she kissed him back, explored his mouth, learned his taste. “Will you come upstairs with me? I’d offer you my bed, but you’ve made your feelings about that clear. Your room, then?”
He chuckled, sounding breathless, though they had shared nothing more than a chaste kiss. “I can’t resist you, Nola. And that’s too much information for a man to give any woman. She can destroy him on the basis of that truth. She can make his life a living hell.”
She kissed his nose. “Silly man. You have the same effect on me. So I guess we’re in this together.”
He went a little crazy then, pushing her back in her seat and settling over her. “God, you make me insane.” He reached behind her for a zipper, found it, and ripped it down.
Her dress was narrow, hampering her movements. He tugged and twisted at it, and finally pulled it over her head.
Now she was in her underwear . . . narrow lace panties, a matching bra, and thigh-high hose. She had kicked off her shoes as soon as the car started.
Tanner looked his fill, his chest heaving. “What if I can’t make it to my room?”
Nine
Nolapanted, her heartbeat loud in her ears. “I’m open to suggestions.” If his damned truck had a backseat, she’d have voted for that.
His features were taut, his chin rigid with tension. “Put your shoes on.” His hair was mussed where she had run her hands through it.
As she slipped her feet into her shoes, he came around to her side of the vehicle and opened the door. He stared in at her, a tiny smile lifting the corners of his mouth, despite his urgency. “God, you’re cute.” He scooped her up.
She looped her arms around his neck. “I need my dress,” she protested when he slammed the door with his hip.
“Later.” The single word was clipped. He paused only to grab the quilt.
She wondered hazily why he had asked her to put her shoes on if he was going to do the knight-in-shining-armor thing.
He walked swiftly, never stumbling over rough ground while he carried her to the back of the house. The gardens were an overgrown embarrassment, running wild without any semblance of order or design.
Nola felt the same way . . . wild and free.
In the center of the stretch of rampant, lush new foliage was a gazebo. As a child Nola had spent many happy hours there. But it had been well over a year since she had set foot inside the partially enclosed structure. She knew that time had taken its toll in rain-soaked, splitting wood and the encroachment of little creatures.
Tanner whispered in her ear, “I have a surprise for you.” He strode up the four small steps and set her on her feet. “I’ve been sneaking around working on this since you arrived.”
Even in the dim moonlight she could see what he had done. The smell of new wood and fresh paint hung in the air, but not unpleasantly. The small building had been lovingly restored to its original purpose, a sheltered port in a storm. . . .
Nola turned in a circle, deeply touched. Though Tanner clearly believed that renovations were impractical and short-sighted, he had done this for her. To make her happy.
While she was in town having a showdown with Marc, who had nearly killed her, Tanner Nash had been hard at work reclaiming a little piece of her past. She tried to speak past the lump in her throat. “I don’t know what to say.” Her lips trembled. “Thank you, Tanner. This is absolutely perfect. I can’t believe it.”
He seemed pleased by her hoarse praise. “I still have to replace part of the roof. But it’s in pretty good shape otherwise.”
She inhaled sharply, and felt an ache in her heart. She smelled the fragrances of familiar blossoms, felt the gentle breeze on her bare skin. It was almost too much after the day’s upheaval, and tears hovered near.
The dichotomy of sadness and hope struggling in her breast made her want to howl at the moon about the unfairness of it all. Why had her grandmother put her in such an untenable position? Thirty days to find a husband? It was impossible.
She wanted time with Tanner, time to see what kind of man he was. She thought she knew . . . she felt it in her heart. But she needed more before she could give her trust, her commitment.
He looked her up and down. “You’re like a fairy, all pink and luscious and ready to grant my every wish.”
His sly humor surprised a laugh from her when she had thought she was too emotional to be amused. “Is that what this is about?”
He sobered suddenly. “Not entirely. I know you think I’m an unfeeling brute who can’t see the forest for the trees. And I do
understand, Nola. I wish I could make the dream of completely restoring Lochaven come true for you. But for now, maybe we can settle for this.”
In a heartbeat, the mood changed.
Tanner went to his knees and ran his hands from her ankles up her thighs, gliding over the silken stockings. Her breath caught in her throat, strangled by the sudden segue from practicality to passion. She would have stepped out of her shoes, but he seemed to like them as they were.
His fingers toyed with the lace-covered elastic that held up her hose. He kissed the soft skin just above the band, buried his face between her legs, and breathed on the center of her panties.
A ragged groan ripped from her throat. With his thumb, he nudged the damp nylon, seeking her clitoris, finding it, licking at it so damn gently that she wanted to scream for him to do it harder, faster.
He did nothing more than that for a long time. His hands worshiped her body, his touch gentle despite his harsh breathing. She grabbed handfuls of his hair to keep herself from flying up to the rafters and out into the erotic beauty of the spring night.
They might have been the only humans on the planet, so deep was the hush, so natural were the muted murmurings of nocturnal creatures.
Her knees were weak when he finally laid her down on the thick quilt. When he joined her, he was nude, his big, hard body warm to the touch despite the cool air. He leaned over her on an elbow, a lock of his hair tumbling across his forehead. He palmed one lace-covered breast and squeezed. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met a more sexually alluring woman,” he muttered. “There’s something about you. . . .”
His words trailed off as he bent to kiss her collarbone, her navel, the tiny swell of her belly over her expensive underwear.
She supposed it would be in bad taste to tell him that Marc had brought out that side of her . . . that before Marc she had been afraid to let go . . . afraid of seeming silly or inept or simply gauche.
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