Nalla opened a bottle of wine; filled two goblets and handed one to Lane. "Let's go upstairs. The breeze is great this time of day."
Lane followed Nalla. They'd just settled on the porch on the upper level when Nalla said, "So tell me about Tyler."
"Should I ask about Kyle?"
Nalla looked at her wineglass, then propped her bare feet on the rail. "Maybe another time, okay?"
It must really hurt, Lane thought. Nalla was usually open about her emotions. "Tyler is in hot pursuit and he won't take no for an answer. He wants to take me to the Winter Ball."
"Do you want to say no?"
"Of course not. But not only is he not looking for a lasting relationship, I can't risk Dan Jacobs or any other reporter finding me, and Tyler McKay dines with the governor. And Dan's been paid for a story he didn't finish. That makes him dangerous. He and every other reporter like him want more. My father is the only one who knows where I am, and I made him swear himself to secrecy."
"I say you should confess to him. Tyler would protect you."
"But I've been lying to him and he hates lies."
"No, you're protecting yourself. There's a difference. Once Tyler knows the awful things Dan Jacobs did, I bet he goes charging off to defend your honor."
"I can't count on that. I don't know how he'd react to the truth about my identity."
"You falling for this guy, aren't you, Elaina?"
It felt good to have someone call her by her real name. "I think so."
"Do you want to sleep with him?"
She remembered what Tyler had said about no sleeping at all. "Oh, yeah."
"Maybe it isn't the press-corps threat that's bothering you. If you have Tyler, that means you have to be a part of something, and you've been a part of nothing for so long."
Lane felt tears wet her eyes and she unpinned her hair. The breeze immediately whipped it back. "You can't know what it was like." Microphones in her face, flashbulbs popping in her bedroom windows, seeing her photograph in the morning paper…
"You're right, I can only imagine," Nalla said. "You lost everything. The man you thought you loved, your reputation, your showing and the deal with that chain of stores that was going to carry your clothing line – it had to be devastating. But are you prepared to just shut yourself off from the world for the rest of your life? You do, and the media still wins. Dan Jacobs still wins. I say fight back."
"I tried." Whatever she'd said to the press was misconstrued. Dan was one of their own and they were certain he was telling the truth. The fact that she and her father had given the FBI the winery books to prove there wasn't any money laundering didn't make it into the headlines.
"No, I mean, fight for yourself alone, not the career. Not the family. I know you fought for them."
"And lost."
"But you make the choices now, Elaina, not them. If Dan Jacobs shows up, sic Tyler on him." Nalla took a sip of wine and shrugged. "Heck, sic all the McKays."
Lane swallowed half her wine in two big gulps. She was tired of lying and hiding. And like Cinderella, she really wanted to go to the ball.
"Just think about it, okay? We still have the Midnight Jubilee, the sailing races, the rodeo out by the Stanley farm, the craft shows, and there's that concert in the park, which is my favorite part of the Winter Festival."
"Good grief." Lane hadn't participated last year – too busy keeping a low profile – and had forgotten about the events.
"Oh, wait till Jubilee. The street looks like we rolled back time. White lights, carolers, period costumes, and … you need to dress better."
"Excuse me?"
"Way better."
Lane looked down at the rust-colored outfit she was wearing. A good color for her, just too many layers, which had been her intention.
"Come on, Lane. You need to be festive." Excitement sparkled in Nalla's eyes. "This is the prelude to Christmas, and it's like a fantasy. Hors d'oeuvres served in the street by men in livery, shopping, socializing. Parties." Nalla lifted her arms and wiggled in the chair.
Lane considered how festive she needed to get. "What will you be wearing?"
Nalla's smile was slow. "A fabulous, slinky, blue-beaded cocktail dress that I saved for a year to buy."
"A year? It must have cost a fortune. I'd love to see it."
"You have."
Lane's brows drew together.
"It's one of your designs."
* * *
Chapter 7
«^»
Nalla had been right.
The Midnight Jubilee was like a fantasy.
Much of the historic district had been blocked off. Shops were closed early to be open late until after the concert in the park. During the day, white lights had been strung in the small trees and bushes lining the streets, as well as the lampposts, and shop owners had prepared amazing displays for their windows.
Lane had spent the morning fussing over hers. Her wide windowsills were draped in rippling blue velvet, white lights and glitter displaying the books and other items her shop offered.
As well as adding two more radio spots to the ones she'd already arranged, she'd contracted Nalla to prepare a delicious variety of appetizers. They'd be a draw in themselves, Lane thought. As the other shop owners had done, she'd set up a booth in the street offering free wine and appetizers to the people strolling by. Soft, string music drifted from speakers positioned down Bay Street
, and the employees on the street were dressed in period clothing.
At seven, the Antebellum Verder house's magnificent federal staircase would be lined with carolers in period dress, singing for the towns folk. Here they were towns folk, she thought as she swept open her doors at sunset and greeted people. The entire area was alive with energy and excitement.
And it didn't take long for Lane's delight to turn to panic.
Who'd have thought there would be so many people? She attributed it to the author who was signing her latest novel and who knew just about everyone that walked through the door. The woman assured Lane she could manage on her own. Lane rushed from the register, to the table of food, to the author. Then she was off to root through stock or shelves to find books for customers. And then there was the coffee bar. The temperature had dropped and people wanted hot cappuccinos and lattes, instead of wine and sodas.
It was a never-ending cycle, and Lane was glad she was wearing a shorter skirt and loose jacket tonight. She would have been tripping over her own feet in an ankle-length skirt. She was kicking herself for not hiring help. She'd have at least liked the opportunity to talk to some of these people, instead of racing about.
* * *
Tyler took in the chaos and crowds in the small store.
"My goodness, look at all these people," his sister, Kate, said, coming in behind him.
Startled to see her, he gave her a kiss on the forehead and said, "I bet she didn't expect it." Tyler moved through the crowd toward Lane, who was rushing around and looking a little frazzled.
"Hey, Lane."
She punched numbers on the register and looked up as it spit out a receipt. "Hi." Man, he looked good, she thought, flushing at the sight of him. The blue sweater made his eyes look bluer and his shoulders bigger. And right now, she wanted to lean on them. "Wish I could chat, but…" She bagged the books, added a couple bookmarks, then handed it to her customer. "Thank you. And I'll call you with that book search this week."
She immediately went to the coffee bar and started making coffees for the people lined up at the counter. Tyler's gaze shifted to the customers headed for the register, to the author, the food table and the young woman who was obviously looking for her.
"Uh-oh," Tyler said, inclining his head to his sister. He hurried over to Lane.
"Need some help?"
"No, yes – I'll get back to you on that."
Tyler slipped behind the counter and grabbed mugs and napkins for her as she assembled the different coffees. "I'm capable and my sister is here."
The dark-haired woman smiled. Lane instantly saw the resemblance. "Hi, I'm Kate."
Lane blinked at her, working the espresso machine without really having to look. "Hello. It's nice of you to drop by."
"Just what you needed, huh? Another customer?" Kate said with a glance at the packed little shop.
"Amazing, isn't it?" Despite the chaos, Lane was thrilled at the business. But with fans clustered around the author, there was barely room to move.
"We can pitch in, you know," Kate offered.
"Oh, no, I couldn't ask you to—"
"We offered," Tyler said. "Why didn't you hire Peggy?"
"I didn't think it would be so busy. Not like this." She waved at the people. "Peg is out there somewhere, enjoying the festival with Dean."
"Well, I can run one of these," Kate said, gesturing at the espresso machine.
"You can? Oh, thank heaven…"
Tyler leaned close and put his hand at the small of Lane's back. The instant he touched her, the tension started slipping away and Lane let out a tired breath.
"Let us help," he said softly. "We want to. Besides, all anyone can do out there is shop." He made a face. "Not my top fun thing at any hour."
Lane looked up at him, so grateful she felt her eyes burn.
Kate moved behind the counter, pushing Tyler away and grabbing an apron with the shop's name, A Novel Idea, printed across the front.
"You're sure?" Lane said to her. "This isn't how you meant to spend your evening."
"No, I could be chasing after my kids, who are likely driving their father crazy. Then it would be home to do laundry, dishes and try to get the kids to bed. All that, or here, making coffee? Gee, what a choice." She flashed a smile.
Lane still looked doubtful.
"I did this for a couple of years while I was in school and then in college," Kate assured her, and Lane smiled her thanks and went to the register, forgetting Tyler.
He watched her move around the store, smiling, laughing with people, bringing a fresh drink to the author.
"She seems nice, Ty." Kate finished making the coffee and change for the customer, then started on the next one.
"If she lets her guard down long enough to show you," Tyler said.
"Oh, my, dissecting already. A good sign."
His gaze snapped to his little sister. As she did in her own kitchen, she moved like lightning. "You're going to give me an opinion after just meeting her?"
"Sorta. Mom and Diana like her. She's not like that witch you used to be tangled up with."
Grinning, Tyler gave Kate a quick hug. She might be small, but she was a dragon when it came to her family. Clarice was lucky to have left town before Kate got to her.
"I know she's not, peanut."
Kate leaned close to be heard over the frothing steam. "But?" she prodded. "I know there's a but coming. There always is with you, Ty."
"But she's hiding something, I can feel it."
"Married?"
"No, but there's something about her that almost feels familiar." He'd just noticed that. Tonight she wasn't covered with long skirts and big sweaters, and as his gaze followed her, he admired the body wrapped in the stylish suit. Her skirt met the edge of a long, knee-length jacket in black-and-gold tapestry. The high stand-up collar and frothy-looking white blouse made it look almost like a period costume. It was – what was the word? Trendy. And not something he'd have thought Lane would own. But man, he thought, look at those legs.
Kate peered over the counter at Lane, then shrugged. "Take it slow, except for right now. Why don't you go see if you can help? Oh, look there's Mom and Kyle."
Tyler groaned and headed them off before they could get to Lane. His mother had spies and no doubt she'd known about every time he'd been with Lane. He didn't want Lane feeling pressured, and the McKays had a way of laying it on a bit thick sometimes.
"Well, this is interesting," his mother said, giving him a look that reminded him of when he was a teenager and came in drunk after a football game and tried to hide it.
"Gimme a break, Mom."
"Why are you so defensive?" Kyle asked.
"Half my family's in this store checking out a woman I'm seeing, and you ask that?"
"We're shopping." His mother smiled and Tyler knew it was a lie.
When a customer asked him a question about a book, Tyler glanced around, saw that Lane was still frantic and said, "Let me see if I can find it." He gestured for the woman to step ahead of him, then paused to look at his mother.
"She's doing this alone, so if you want to pry, lend a hand, please."
Then he moved off, searching the shelves for the novel the woman was insisting would just tear his heart out. Then why read it? he wondered. He knew what having his heart torn out felt like already.
Lane glanced up to see Tyler's mother, of all people, serving punch and hors d'oeuvres. Mortified, she excused herself and rushed over.
"Mrs. McKay, I can take that." She went to take the tray.
The older woman held it out of her reach. "I told you to call me Laura, and I'm doing fine. I waited tables once, you know. At a Huddle House."
"Really?" Lane couldn't imagine the elegant woman serving in a roadside waffle restaurant.
Laura leaned close. "I got fired after the third day. Apparently I wasn't destined for greatness and they noticed. But I think after waiting on my children for years, I can manage this."
"I'm horrified you're doing this, you know."
Laura laid her hand on Lane's arm. "Honey, you need some help. Accept it. Besides, it's fun. It's not all that often I get to play hostess."
"If you're sure," Lane said, deeply touched by all the help.
"Go on, do the things no one else can." She nodded to the register.
Lane hesitated, then gave up, heading to help another customer.
Three hours later, the author's latest release was sold out, Laura McKay had invited her to a family barbecue after the charity football game tomorrow, which Tyler was playing in, and Kate's husband had shown up with sleepy children in his arms and cotton candy stuck in his hair.
Lane fell into the stuffed chair and kicked off her shoes.
"Bravo," Tyler said, sitting across from her.
"I'm wiped out."
"Great night, huh?"
"Oh, yeah. I'm stunned, absolutely shell-shocked." She'd do something nice for Laura and Kate for all their help. While Laura had left after the author had, Kate had hung around. Tyler's sister was funny and bright, and they'd become fast friends already. It wasn't hard to like a McKay, that was for sure.
Tyler moved to the edge of the chair and grasped Lane's ankle, lifting it to his lap.
"Tyler—"
"Hush up, and relax," he ordered, kneading her foot. She moaned tiredly, closing her eyes, and Tyler brought her other foot to his lap and lavished attention on it.
She started to protest again, then gave up and enjoyed the intense relief. She'd been doing that a lot lately – giving up when a McKay was around. They were a pretty persuasive bunch. Tyler's hands were strong, sending currents up her legs and making her spine liquefy. She sank deeper into the chair.
"I really need to clean up." She didn't have to look to know her store was a mess.
When she tried to pull her feet free, he gripped them tighter. "Save it for the morning. The night isn't over."
"It is for me."
"There's the concert."
"I'll pass, but thank you."
"I have a blanket and a spot picked out."
She opened her eyes and he gave her such an adorably wishful smile that Lane felt herself sinking. Then his hands moved higher on her legs, and Lane experienced a hot rush of need that shot like a bolt right to her center. Low in her stomach, desire simmered as his hands moved upward under her skirt hem.
"Tyler. Are you trying to feel me up?"
He smiled, something taking flight inside him just then. "I'm no
t trying. You have great legs, darlin'." He leaned forward in the chair, letting her feet slide to the floor as his hands moved farther up her thighs.
"They go all the way up," she said, and wondered why she wasn't warning him off, protesting. But she knew. She was falling hard for him, and when his hand shifted under her hem, she only wanted him to touch her.
"Come here," he said and Lane sat up.
Tyler felt his insides tighten. Little things from Lane meant a lot, he realized, and he wanted to get inside her head, explore who she was under that reserved exterior. He suspected she was hiding a lot of fire, too, and he brushed her mouth with his, coaxing it out.
A little sound escaped her and he swallowed it. She let her hands hover over his thighs, wanting to touch and knowing it was a step forward. Her hesitation strung him tighter, and the minute her palms flattened on his thighs, a hard jolt of desire shot through him. It left him trembling and greedy for her.
"Oh, man," he said, and sank into her mouth. His tongue speared between her lips. Her fingertips dug into his thighs. Her breathing grew labored and Tyler felt like a simmering kettle about to boil over. He gripped her waist and was about to pull her onto his lap when the phone rang.
Lane jerked back, gasping for air, then seemed to glare at the office in the back. "I need to get that."
She rose and headed to the office.
Tyler flopped back into the chair, closing his eyes for a second and reliving the last moments. He was hard, ready to make love to her. It was a frequent occurrence when he was near her, and he didn't think he'd ever wanted a woman more.
The sound of her voice drifted to him in the quiet shop, a soft hum on the air, and something about it made him frown. He stood, moving toward the back of the shop. The door to her office was ajar and he could see her.
And hear her. Speaking fluent Italian.
That sent him back a step, and though he couldn't understand a word, he could tell she was angry at the caller. Her temper was incredible. Who'd have thought? She'd never lost it with him, even when he'd given her a reason. But here she was, rubbing her forehead, gesturing wildly with her free hand.
Whoever was on the other end of the line was getting scorched.
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