Jeannie Watt (17 page)

Tara leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, concerned. “He must have done a number, that ex of yours.”

Hailey nodded. “Yeah. He did.” She reached for another fry and Tara pushed her basket closer, allowing Hailey easier access. “Maybe if I find someone rock solid…” Hailey’s voice trailed and Tara wanted to tell her that Rafe was rock solid. “Even then,” Hailey continued, “I don’t know.”

Tara thought for a moment, and then she did something she normally didn’t do, since it gave a person the right to do the same to her. She asked a personal question. “What if you find yourself, you know, falling for some guy?”

“I’ll enjoy him. He’ll enjoy me. No commitment until I’m absolutely certain it will work. I’m not going to settle for anything less than absolute.” She spoke adamantly. “And since there are no absolutes in this world—” she gave Tara a pert look and dipped a fry “—I will probably grow old alone, but at least I’ll be in control of my own destiny.” She gestured with the last fry. “Does that seem so wrong?’

Tara shook her head.
It seemed a little lonely, yes. But wrong? In her way of thinking it was the safest way to go.

L
YDIE HAD A BOX
waiting for Tara when she dropped Hailey back at the salon.

“This needs to go to the convention center. Do you think you could drop it on your way home? I was supposed to have it there by noon, but Mrs. Reynolds stopped by and…”

“Sure,” Tara said, taking the box off the counter.

“It’s decorations for the luncheon,” Lydie said as she patted the box. “Silk flowers and such. I do appreciate this.”

“No problem.”

And it wasn’t a problem, until Tara got to the convention center and found it locked.

What now?
She tried to peer through the darkened glass for a sign of life. Nothing. No lights, no movement. She’d have to take the box back to the salon. Tara had just loaded it into the passenger seat of her car when a familiar white Beemer drove into the lot.

Well, Tara thought as she pulled the box back out again, delivering it to Stacia was better than returning it to the shop.

“These decorations were supposed to be here by noon,” Stacia said as she unlocked the door. She held it open with her toe, indicating that Tara should carry the box inside. Tara debated dropping the box on the sidewalk and walking away, and then decided she was past that. She’d be nice, if for no other reason than because Stacia expected her not to be.

“Something came up,” Tara said evenly. She set the box on the reception table and turned to leave. Then she stopped and turned back. “You know, Stacia, since it’s just you and me here, maybe it’s time for us to clear the air.”

“Excuse me?”

“We never had any problems before. Why are we having them now?”

“I guess it’s the fact that you won’t leave my fiancé alone.”

Tara was genuinely taken aback. “I won’t what?”

Stacia’s expression hardened. “Oh, don’t play innocent with me. Ryan told me.”

Tara shook her head, trying to get rid of the twilight-zone feeling rapidly engulfing her. “Told you what?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Tara. He said you’d deny it.” Stacia took a few steps away, but Tara caught up with her.

“
What
did Ryan tell you?” She was angry now and she ground the words out.

“He told me that you’ve been harassing him and that I should let him handle it.”

“When?”

“What do you mean, when?”

“I mean is he talking about after we dated a year ago, or is he talking about now?”

“Now,” Stacia replied tightly. “Phone calls now.”

Tara sucked in a breath. What was the bastard up to? “He’s lying.”

Stacia’s chin went up. “He’s my fiancé. He wouldn’t lie to me. You, on the other hand, with your illustrious family history…”

Tara snorted. What was this about? What could he possibly get out of lying about her? Unless…an awful thought occurred to her. A thought she wasn’t cruel enough to share—even with Stacia Logan. Not yet anyway.
Like father, like son?

“
How
am I harassing him?”

“Like I said. Phone calls. Other things.” For a brief moment, Tara thought the woman was going to start crying. But instead she drew herself up and said, “Tara, look. Just stop doing it and we’ll all be better off. You’re lucky he hasn’t contacted the police.”

He isn’t going to contact the police.
He wouldn’t dare. But Stacia didn’t know that. Tara pressed her lips together. Then she abruptly turned and left the building.

She got into her car and drove straight to Ryan’s office, located in one of the refurbished brick-front buildings on Main Street. There was an old-fashioned sign just inside the door, identifying the various occupants of the building. Ryan’s suite was on the ground floor. Tara didn’t even give herself time to consider what she was doing. She strode purposefully into the office, past the woman at the front desk and into the opulent back office where Boy Wonder was busily tapping away at his computer. The woman shouted, “Hey,” as she scrambled after Tara, but Ryan, after a quick, startled look, raised a hand.

“It’s all right,” he said. “You can close the door when you leave.”

“Leave it open,” Tara countered, suddenly realizing she didn’t want to be trapped alone with him. The associate looked torn, then reached out and grasped the doorknob, pulling the heavy wooden door shut as she backed out of the room, effectively enclosing Tara in Ryan’s lair.

Ryan picked up a heavy gold mechanical pencil and idly twisted the mechanism. “What brings you here today, Tara? Have you finally come to your senses and decided to unload that white elephant?”

“I do not appreciate being used.”

Ryan’s eyebrows went up, the pencil went down. “Used?” He looked genuinely perplexed.

“Used,” Tara repeated. “By a man—that’s you, although I use the term loosely—who’s lying to his fiancée.”

Ryan’s lips curved, but she saw no humor in his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re raving about,” he said smoothly.

“All right. I’ll spell it out,” Tara replied, making an effort to keep her voice even as Ryan rose and came around the desk. She knew he was trying to intimidate her, but he couldn’t hurt her with his associate so near, so she stood her ground until he leaned back against the front of his desk, prepared to listen with mockingly polite interest.

But he was interested. Tara could see that. He was wondering what she thought she knew. And belatedly she also knew, from the way he was looking at her, that she had made a mistake.

A monumental mistake.

He could now say, with the associate as a witness, that Tara Sullivan had burst into his office, had harassed him yet again, thus adding credence to the lie he’d told Stacia. And who knew what else he would do, now that she’d given him ammunition? All she needed was a restraining order during the reunion.

She had to get herself out of this. The best way to do that was to continue the full frontal assault.

“I know you think you’re very clever, creeping around, trying to unnerve me, threatening my business in vague underhanded ways, but I am not going to put up with it. Stay away from me and
stop
using me as an excuse when your
paramours
call you at home!”

“You are unbalanced,” Ryan replied matter-of-factly.

Tara narrowed her eyes. “Someday, Ryan, this will all catch up with you. You’ve bullied and assaulted me, you’ve lied to Stacia. In fact,” she said as she yanked the door open, “I’ll bet you cheat on your taxes, too. Your associate will probably be called in to testify.” Tara nodded at the bewildered woman. “You’d better get your stories straight.”

The last thing Tara heard was the associate asking Mr. Somers if he wanted her to contact the authorities. She was through the outer door before Ryan answered.

T
ARA FELT LIKE
beating her head on the steering wheel.

Why did her stupid moments always involve Ryan?

She started the car and backed out of the parking lot, before the associate did call the authorities. She pulled the Camry out onto the street and headed home, occasionally checking her mirror for Rafe’s rig. It would really tick him off if he had to arrest her for trespassing.

And as much as she was concerned about herself at the moment, she was also worried about Stacia. It was possible Ryan might not be happy about his fiancée’s conversation with Tara and Tara knew from firsthand experience how charming Ryan could turn ugly when confronted or thwarted. There was a big difference between her and Stacia, though. Stacia had a lot of money. He wouldn’t do anything to upset the golden goose. Anything direct, that is.

A girlfriend on the side…well, that did seem rather direct, but Ryan probably thought it was normal. It was, after all, a Somers tradition. Martin was infamous for his indiscretions and Ryan was just arrogant enough to believe he could do the same and not be caught. If he could have kept his girlfriend from calling his home.

Of course, as much as she liked the theory, there were other explanations. The person calling his home could be an old girlfriend, someone who didn’t want to let go. Or, more realistically from Tara’s point of view, an ex with a grudge. Or maybe just some kind of a phone stalker.

Tara let out a sigh. She favored the first theory, but for Stacia’s sake, she honestly hoped it was the second or third.

Tara made it home without the reds and blues showing up in her mirror, but she was dreading her shift at the bar that night. Soon the entire community would be aware that she had burst in on her former lover like some kind of a nut. Ryan would make certain they knew it, so that he could put his own spin on it. Tara Sullivan was harassing him again.

Matt was off picking up a final load of supplies to finish the bathrooms, and since Tara had a little time on her hands before she had to leave for her fun-packed evening, she sat at the computer and did what she always did when she had a few free moments. She opened a search engine, punched in the words “balloon payment refinance” and scrolled through the sites she’d already tried. She was on the third page, ready to click on the fourth, when an entry near the bottom caught her eye.
Balloon payment…predatory lending practices…elderly.

Tara went to the site and began to read, her blood pressure rising steadily. The scenario perfectly fit what had happened to her aunt. Older people scammed into taking out low interest renovation loans with huge balloon payments they would be unable to make and then losing their homes. Aunt Laura had been taken in big-time.

The only way Laura’s balloon could have been paid was through her life insurance, and Tara was pretty certain Aunt Laura had not intended to die to pay off her home. The bank manager had most probably assured her that the balloon would be refinanced, and up until refinancing time, she could take advantage of a very attractive interest rate. And then, according to the article, there would be no refinancing, the house would end up on the market and the predator could pick it up. Cheap.

Damn.

Tara printed out the document and bookmarked the page. She was still fuming as she dressed in her red satin cowboy shirt and jeans. She opened her jewelry box and pulled out the one piece of good jewelry her mother had left her, a gold nugget on a long chain, and fastened it around her neck, comforted by the heavy chunk of metal between her breasts. She’d have to do some research, but something could be done.

Becky happily relinquished the bar when Tara arrived, “Oh, did you hear about Ginny?”

“No,” Tara replied absently, tying on an apron, her mind still working on the cheating bank manager.

“Martin Somers hired her at the Inn. She’d had an application in for almost a year and had given up hope, but he got hold of her yesterday….”

Tara caught her breath. Martin had hired away her day help.
That bastard.
It never stopped.

“Insurance benefits and everything. It’s a lot better than what she was getting here.”

“I’m sure it is,” Tara said evenly. “Well, that’s nice for her.” Her lips tightened into a grim smile as she left the office to start manning the bar.

Ginny herself stopped by around eight o’clock, full of apologies. She had thought she’d be able to work around her schedule at the Inn and help Tara at the reunion as she had promised, but Martin wouldn’t let her have the days off she needed. Tara was about as far from surprised as a person could be, but she didn’t tell Ginny she was merely a pawn in a petty game. Instead Tara told her that she understood and that she was certain that she and Hailey could manage.
Somehow.

Ginny left after a few more minutes of sincere apologies, obviously still feeling guilty. She was a single mother. She needed a better paying job with benefits and now she had it. Tara wouldn’t begrudge her that.

Then to top the evening off, Eddie Johnson came in just before the end of a long and busy shift. He pushed his way up to the bar, all but knocking a patron off his stool, and ordered a draft.

Tara slapped down a glass still dripping foam. “How’re you doing, Eddie?” she asked, wondering if he’d gotten over the parking lot humiliation. She got her answer almost immediately.

“Fine,” he announced. “That boyfriend of yours around?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Eddie sprayed a little beer as he made a disparaging snort. “Yeah. Well, when you see that guy who
ain’t
your boyfriend, you tell him that old Ed hasn’t forgotten.”

Tell him yourself because I’m not going to.
“Sure thing, Eddie.”

“Cuz I haven’t.” He gave her what was supposed to be a dangerous look, grabbed the glass and tottered off the stool and into the restaurant. Tara watched him go with some relief. The last thing she needed on top of everything else was another incident with Eddie.

All the lights in Tara’s house were off when she drove up later that evening. Even the porch light, which Matt always left burning, was dark. The observation had barely registered when her headlights flashed over the front porch and she saw that something was wrong. Very wrong.

No reflection. Her headlights usually reflected off the wavy old glass, but tonight they shined into complete blackness.

Someone had broken her two front windows. Tara immediately hit the automatic door locks and, thanking God for modern technology, reached for her cell phone. Rafe was on speed dial and he answered on the second ring.

“Don’t leave your car. In fact, get out of there,” he said in clipped tones after she explained. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Tara didn’t leave. She sat in her locked car with the engine running until Rafe’s classic T-Bird and a sheriff’s vehicle pulled into the drive and parked on either side of her car. She rolled the window down.

“I thought I told you…” Rafe stopped when he saw her face. “Stay put.”

“I—”

“Stay put. Where’s Connors?”

“Home, I guess. He doesn’t spend
every
night here, Rafe.”

Tara watched as the deputies went through the house. They made a thorough search, then came back to report that nothing seemed to be disturbed.