As shamefully aroused and pleased as she was to be the center of their attention, she wasn’t sure quite how to end the standoff without further bloodshed.
Tanner took matters out of her hands. He moved farther into the room and cocked his head toward the door. “Why don’t you step outside a minute, Nola? I think slick Marc and I need to talk.”
Somehow—she wasn’t exactly sure when it happened—Nola ended up at the door with both men standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder a few feet away, staring at her. She put her hands on her hips, her stomach flip-flopping. “Can I trust you two not to kill each other if I’m not here?”
Marc spoke up first, his gaze derisive as he gave Tanner the once-over. “I swear I won’t lay a finger on your Sasquatch boyfriend.”
Tanner’s jaw dropped, his face reflecting astonishment and incredulity. But Nola was too accustomed to Marc’s deliberate irreverence to be offended. “Behave, Marc.”
Tanner snorted, but didn’t go further.
Finally, when their silence outlasted hers, she threw up her hands. “Fine. Do what you want. I have a phone call to make anyway.”
She went out to Tanner’s truck and climbed into the cab. She didn’t really think she’d have to call 911, but you never knew.
She pulled her cell phone from her purse and scrolled back until she found the number for Billy’s home. Her mouth was dry, and she was really hoping she wasn’t going to find out something upsetting.
His mother answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Inman. It’s Nola Grainger.”
Long silence. “What do you want?”
Nola bit her lip. “Mrs. Inman . . . was Billy home with you last night?” She blurted it out and held her breath.
“Well, of course he was. He and his daddy and me watched the Wheel and Jeopardy!, and then Billy helped his dad with therapy like he always does. Billy fell asleep on the sofa about nine thirty.” Suspicion crackled over the connection. “Why? What’s going on?”
Nola’s heartbeat settled. The woman had no reason to lie, and the times wouldn’t have permitted Billy to be anywhere near Nola’s accident. She sighed, rubbing her forehead where the headache was returning with a vengeance. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. And please don’t tell him I called.”
The other woman snorted meanly. “As if I would. Leave us the hell alone, Nola Grainger.”
Nola waited a half hour and knocked on Marc’s door. When there was no answer, she turned the knob and found it open. The scene inside astounded her. Both men were seated in small office chairs, hunched together over a bank of Marc’s high-tech equipment. Marc was punching buttons and spinning dials with quick, terse explanations about investments and the stock market. Tanner was nodding, his eyes sharp with interest.
She’d been weaving this fantasy of the two special men in her life growling at each other in defense of her, but if they had done so . . . it was pretty damned quick. They’d moved on to big-boy toys and male bonding.
When he saw Nola, Tanner rolled to his feet, and she jerked a thumb toward the door. “Now it’s my turn, Tanner. Marc and I have some talking to do. How about you take the truck and go load up on groceries for us? When you get back, I’ll be ready to leave.”
He wanted to argue. She could tell. Especially since Marc was looking superior and triumphant. Idiots.
She sighed. “Seriously, Tanner. You and I can hash things out tonight, but I owe Marc some time.” She approached the man with the golden-brown eyes and the hands that had moved over her bare flesh with such tenderness. She kissed him right on the mouth, lingering to taste, to savor.
She leaned close. “Marc’s no threat to either of us,” she whispered. “But he’s a dear friend. Please make yourself scarce for an hour.”
Tanner cooperated, but only after kissing her back in such a way that her knees went weak. When the door closed behind him, Marc sighed, sat down, and leaned back against the headboard of the bed on the left. “Well, that’s it, I guess. The handyman wins the prize.”
Nola joined Marc on the bed, scooting up beside him and laying her head on his shoulder. He smelled familiar, and his lopsided smile only barely hid his chagrin. She took his hand in hers. “You know I love you, Marc.”
“But you’re not in love with me.”
Their fingers were linked. “No.” She didn’t dress it up. He deserved the truth, and she really hoped to keep him as a friend.
He sighed, a long, exaggerated breath that punctuated his displeasure. “Are you in love with Paul Bunyan?”
She laughed softly. “I think I’m headed in that direction.”
“Have you told him about the will?”
She winced. Trust Marc to cut to the chase. “No.”
“Why not? You’re running out of time.”
“I know. But I was sort of hoping he’d want me for me and not the money.”
Marc snorted. “Women and romance. What is it with you chicks? If you want the man in your bed, you’ve got the perfect carrot. No man is going to propose marriage in the narrow window you’re working with. He’ll drag his feet. . . . Assuming you’ve picked Tanner as the lucky winner, just tell him. If the prize is you and a bloody fortune, I can guarantee he’ll say yes.”
She grimaced. “And therein dies any hope of romance.”
“Romance is overrated.”
“Not from where I’m standing.” She realized it was a long shot, but she clung stubbornly to the hope that Tanner might actually want her with or without the money.
Marc examined the signet ring on his right hand, absently buffing the gold against the bedsheet. Then he glanced up, his gaze shrewd. “You’re still not completely sure about all this, are you?”
She shrugged. “I have to do it.”
Marc stretched out his legs and linked his hands behind his neck. “You’re weaving fairy tales, Nola. You need to step back and look at the situation objectively. If saving the house is your top priority, then you need to give up these rosy, romantic fantasies and be practical.”
“Practicality sucks.”
“Not always. Marrying me would be the practical thing to do. You know we’re compatible in bed. And you know I’m not in it for the money. It makes a lot of sense.”
It did. It really did. If she discounted the fact that she was head over heels in love and lust with her sexy carpenter.
When she didn’t respond, Marc changed tack. “I know you’ll think this is jealousy talking, but I’m not convinced that tool-belt boy is harmless. You’re too trusting at times.”
“He’s apologized for not telling me up front that he and his partner wanted to buy the house and the land. And he’s told his partner that the deal is definitely off.”
“Are you sure?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. Damn Marc for planting doubts. “I believe him.” The assertion wasn’t as strong as she would have liked.
Marc was the one to take her hand this time. “Try to be objective, baby. He could have told you that to soothe your ruffled feathers. And he could still be hoping to get your property by fair means or foul. Con men fool people all the time. You want to believe him. But does it really make sense to trust a man you’ve known for such a short time?”
Once the door was opened a crack, all her misgivings came rushing back in, a flood of uncertainties and self-doubt. “I feel like I know him, Marc. And I believe he’s telling me the truth.”
“Well, it’s your call, baby. But if someone is out to get you, you’re going to have to be on your toes. And you need to find out their identity ASAP. Who inherits Grandma’s loot if you aren’t married? That person or persons would have a powerful reason to hurt you.”
“The lawyer told me the information is confidential. As far as I know, he’s the only one privy to the name or names.”
Marc shook his head. “Secrets have a way of getting out. And financial greed is a hell of a motivator. People kill for a lot less.”
&nbs
p; A shiver snaked down her spine. “Thanks for the pep talk. I feel so much better now.”
Marc kissed her slowly, right on the mouth, his lips warm and firm and coaxing. When he pulled back, they were both breathing hard. His eyes were dark. “Be careful, Nola. That’s all I ask.”
Tanner returned shortly thereafter, and Nola took her leave of Marc, promising to stop by again later in the week. The curtains were open, and she saw the truck as soon as it pulled up. Tanner stayed in the vehicle with the motor running, but through the windshield, she could almost see his impatience.
On the ride out to the house, the atmosphere in the truck cab was strained. Tanner unbent enough to ask how she was feeling.
She shifted on the seat and sighed. “I’m sore and tired. But I’ll live. Thank you for doing the shopping.”
His profile was grim as he stared out at the road ahead. “I have to eat, too.”
The remainder of the journey was silent. That was as much as she got out of him until they arrived at the house, unloaded the groceries onto the table, and then Tanner excused himself to return to one of his many projects. He stopped in the doorway, his back to her. He turned around slowly. The indecision on his face was so unlike him, she was shocked.
She folded her arms across her waist. “What?”
He braced both hands inside the doorframe. “You had a close call last night. And whoever ran you off the road is still out there somewhere. I know Overmyer is your friend. But you need to be rational about this. He followed you here and refuses to leave. Some men, even successful, intelligent, reasonably attractive men, go off the deep end and obsess about a particular woman. I get a vibe from him that makes me uneasy.”
She could tell Tanner was trying his level best not to get her hackles up. He was really concerned. And she couldn’t help but remember the phone call from Krystal. Was Marc really unbalanced when it came to relationships? Did he want Nola so badly that he was prepared to do something terrible to keep anyone else from having her?
She thought about that, and it made her sad and confused. She knew Marc. He was self-centered at times, and egocentric. But was he capable of evil? No. Even after the gas incident, she wouldn’t believe it. He’d learned his lesson about playing stupid, manipulative pranks.
She looked at Tanner and smiled weakly. “Everything you’ve said makes sense, but I really do know Marc, and I understand him. He can be possessive, but he cares about me. It wasn’t him last night. And besides, he had an alibi.”
“Maybe.” Tanner still frowned. “We never actually asked the desk clerk. And I’d say Marc bet on that. He knew you’d never be so crass as to actually insist on verification. And he strikes me as a guy who can think on his feet. He could have made up that whole story, knowing from the first that you would accept it without question.”
It infuriated her that she wondered for a split second if Tanner was right. Then she ground her teeth and glared at him. “You’re going to have to trust me on this. Marc was not driving that car last night.”
“Someone was.” He snarled the two words.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” She picked up a can of tomato sauce, wanting to hurl it at him. She set it back down and took a deep breath. “I’m going to strip some wallpaper in the dining room,” she said carefully, her enunciation making her sound snooty and pissed. “Please try not to disturb me.”
His glare could have melted steel. But he turned on his heel and left without another word.
Nola’s hard, dirty, physical labor turned out to be cathartic. When she reached in her pocket a long time later to glance at her watch, she groaned. She had planned to cook dinner tonight, but it was almost seven. She was starving, and Tanner would be as well.
She went to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. She was running a comb through her hair when she heard the doorbell ring.
Comb still in hand, she ran down the stairs and opened the door to find a perky pizza delivery boy standing outside. He was holding a single large box with an aroma that made Nola want to sit up and beg.
Clearly, Tanner had given up on her and ordered dinner the easiest way he knew how. She found her purse and handed the kid a wad of bills with a generous tip. His beaming smile reminded her that having her grandmother’s fortune to share was going to be a lot of fun at times.
She carried the box to the kitchen and decided to set the table before she went to find Tanner. Cheerful place mats and some simple stoneware dishes set a homey stage.
Her stomach growled loudly, and she glanced wistfully at the steaming box. No. She could wait.
After a quick look outside, she hurried up the stairs. Tanner’s shower was running, so she opened the door a crack. “Dinner in five.” She kept her voice light.
He mumbled a response, and she tried not to imagine what he looked like at this exact moment. If she hadn’t been so hungry and if they hadn’t parted on such an angry note earlier, she might have debated climbing in the tub with him. But she didn’t have quite that much gumption.
She returned to the kitchen, pulled out a beer for him and a cola for herself, and then she thought, What the hell? She ripped open the box and bent to inhale the amazing aroma. Papa Luigi’s Pizza, right in the heart of Resnick, was so darned good that even though the chains could sell cheaper, the locals remained loyal to Papa.
Feeling like a naughty kid, she scooped up a piece and took three quick bites in succession. Heaven. Sheer heaven. The piece was gone in no time. She forced herself to close the box and wait for Tanner. It was bad enough that she had started without him. So much for her upbringing. Apparently good manners went out the window if a girl was hungry enough.
She heard his footsteps on the stairs when the first pain gripped her stomach. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and nausea churned in her belly.
When Tanner stepped into the room, she managed a smile, despite her gastric distress. “Sorry I worked so late. Thanks for ordering the pizza. I swear I’ll cook tomorrow night.”
His hair, damp from the shower, was darker than normal. He smelled about ten times better than the food, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he had shaved. He cocked his head and flipped open the box, bending his head to sniff. “I didn’t order any pizza.”
The next pain coincided with a mental slap of terror. Tanner spotted the fact that a piece was missing about the time Nola doubled over with a stab of agony in her midsection.
He went white and grabbed her arm. “Nola?”
She gasped for breath, feeling dizzy and sick. “Something’s wrong with the pizza.”
He didn’t waste time with questions or are-you-sures. They both knew in an instant that the mystery assailant had struck again.
Good God, why? In the midst of her pain and confusion, Nola clung to one simple truth—she didn’t want to die.
Tanner eased her to the floor in a seated position. He took her face in his hands and spoke urgently. “You’re going to be okay, Nola. Hang on.”
His face swam in front of her, and knives raked her belly. Her pulse was out of control and she couldn’t seem to get her breath.
Tanner took her chin and shook her. “Listen to me, Nola. I need you to help me. Relax your mouth.” He stuck two large fingers down her throat and she fought him instinctively, batting weakly at his arms.
She gagged and coughed, and he gave her five seconds to breathe before he did it again. In some dim corner of her brain, she realized why and what he was doing. But it took a half dozen tries before he was successful. Finally, she choked and vomited up the pizza she had just eaten.
Tears streamed down her face. Her guts hurt. Her throat hurt.
Her head lolled, and she could barely sit upright. Tanner took her face in his hands again and wiped her mouth with a damp rag. His eyes burned in a face totally devoid of color. If she had been more coherent, his visible fear would have scared her.
He was speaking in careful, firm syllables, as if he thought she might not be able to hear or understand. “
We’re going to the hospital, Nola.”
She was too weak and sick to respond.
Although she never passed out, the next moments were hazy. He bundled her into the truck and swept down the driveway in a flurry of gravel and dust. She heard him calling 911 on the way. They met up with the EMTs two miles outside of town. Nola was put in the ambulance, with Tanner nowhere in sight.
When she realized they had kept him out, she started to cry.
Two medics were in the back with her. The man was busy hooking her to monitors, but the woman took her hand. “Don’t you fret, honey. We’ve got a perfect record on this puppy. No one’s going to meet their maker on our watch.”
Nola closed her eyes and the woman tapped her cheek lightly. “No sleepin’, hon. You just stay with me. Let’s talk about your smokin’-hot boyfriend. Good thing I’m married or I might try to steal him from you. That is one fine son of a bitch.”
She kept up a running monologue, satisfied if Nola answered her occasional question with a half nod. The trip seemed endless. Nola was by turns cold and hot. They gave her something that made her throw up again. But there was not much left in her stomach, and she ended up leaning off the gurney with dry heaves.
The man put a cool, wet cloth on Nola’s head, and it felt so good she wept again. The machines were making steady little beeps and hums. That must mean she was still alive. That and the agony in her stomach. Surely if she were dead, it wouldn’t hurt so much.
She thought about Tanner and how he had looked when he realized she had eaten the pizza. No one could fake that aura of absolute panic. Tanner wouldn’t hurt her.
She closed her eyes again and the female medic nagged again. “Nola. Are you with us, girl? No time for napping. I’m looking out the window, and your lover boy is hot on our tail. He’s a hell of a driver, ’cause Tommy up front might as well be part of NASCAR.”
Nola heard the words and processed them, but her lips were numb. She couldn’t make them move.
The ambulance screeched to a halt. There were lights and loud voices, and when she blinked hazily, she saw Tanner’s big outline only a few feet away. She wanted to hold out her hand to him, wanted to tell him she loved him. Why had she waited? She was so dumb. Marc was right . . . why wait for romance when she could practically guarantee the outcome she wanted?
Mating Game Page 18