Jeannie Watt (19 page)

And then…they stood facing each other until Matt finally reached out and took Tara’s hands in his own. They were like ice.

“Hell of a night, Sullivan,” he said quietly.

“That’s an understatement,” she murmured back, clutching his hands. “I really am all right. The worst has happened and I’ve survived. Now I just need to figure out a way to fix it.”

“Come on.” Matt motioned to Nicky’s double bed, which was pushed against the opposite wall. “Let’s talk about it.”

“All right.”

Matt snapped off the overhead light and led her across the darkened room. He climbed onto the bed, pulling her with him as he turned to sit with his back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him. Tara settled beside him, her shoulder touching his. He slid his arm behind her, pulling her closer and her head came to rest on his shoulder.

“I don’t know how I’m going to fix this.”

Neither did Matt, but he was going to do whatever he could to make it right.

“Maybe now people will understand what Ryan is really like.”

“I’d say that’s a definite possibility.”

“Or maybe they’ll think I drove him to destroy my house.”

“I don’t think so.”

Another silence. “How are we going to get this cleaned up before my guests arrive? I only have three days.”

“We’ll get it done.” He felt her pull in a deep breath.

“I hate this,” she muttered. “Feeling out of control. Lots of questions, no answers…no action.”

“Control returns.”

Spoken like a veteran of losing and regaining control. “So, what’s your story, Connors?”

“My story?” He was more than a little surprised at the sudden change of topic.

“Yeah. You have a story, and you’re about as good at sharing as I am.” She lifted her head off his shoulder, peering at him through the darkness. “I’d go so far as to say that you’re worse.”

Matt raised his gaze toward the dark ceiling and compressed his lips for a moment as he dealt with possible ramifications of answering her question. It would take her mind off her house, but at what cost to him?

Denial isn’t healthy,
she’d said. He knew that from hard experience. And so what if he told her? What would it matter? He’d be heading back home the day after tomorrow anyway. He may as well talk. He could do this. For her.

“It was in the papers. On the news,” he said in a low voice. “A standoff…an officer down.”

“In Reno?”

“Yeah.”

“I did hear about it.”

Everyone had.

“You were the guy…”

“Who dragged the injured officer out of the line of fire. Yeah.”

“You were a hero.”

“No.” There was no modesty in the word. It was a simple denial.

He felt her gaze shift toward his profile. “Why?”

Matt swallowed. “Because I was rash. I had something to prove.”

“You’re going to have to explain that one.”

“The officer had been shot and went down, and then the shooter kept shooting at him while he was lying there. Fortunately the guy was a lousy shot, but he was shooting and no one could get to him. At that particular time in my life, I didn’t feel like I had a lot to lose, and it seemed as if both the downed man and I had a lot to gain.”

“Sounds like heroism to me.”

“You weren’t there,” Matt said softly.

“Why did you have a lot to gain and not much to lose?”

“Because I was suspected, am still suspected, of being a crooked cop. I wanted to prove I’d put my life on the line—I was a good cop.”

He felt her stiffen in surprise.

“You? A crooked cop?”

“Me.”

“Why?” The disbelief in her voice almost made Matt smile. He swallowed hard and decided to explain about his dad. He finally understood that this was something he needed to do.

“Do you have a little time?”

“All night.”

He told Tara everything.

He told her things he’d never told anyone…not even Luke. He told her because he knew she’d understand—because of what had happened to her with her dad. He told her because he knew she didn’t want to have any kind of a lasting relationship with him…he could tell her and then walk away, knowing she wouldn’t pass on what she heard.

When he was done, Tara shook her head. “You should have talked to me sooner, Connors. I never dreamed we had something like that in common.”

“Felonious fathers?”

“Maybe we could start a club,” she said without humor. “So, what do you do now?”

“I go back to work.”

“With things to prove?”

He felt his back go up. “Just that I’m a decent cop who’s not on the take.”

“Considering your situation, you’d probably have to be the most honest cop on the force right now. Take it from one who knows, Matt. You can’t change the past.”

“Yes, but you still have to come up with ways to live with the aftermath.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Tara lay her head back on his shoulder. “What’s your plan?”

“I’m going back to work. I’m going to do a decent job. I’m going to change a few attitudes through time and persistence. I’m not going to disappear because the lieutenant is pissed that he wanted to pin stuff on me and couldn’t. I’m going to ride this out, regardless, and—” his fingers tightened on her shoulder “—that’s the reason you don’t want to be involved with me.”

“Because you need to prove you’re not your father instead of living your own life?”

Matt felt a jolt of surprise that she understood so clearly what he was doing.

“Kind of a vendetta,” Tara said so quietly he barely made out the words. She pressed her head closer to his shoulder.

Another long silence followed, so long that Matt thought that she might have fallen asleep.

“I know about vendettas. Ryan has one against me. I had one against this community…. They aren’t good, Matt.”

“It’s more than a vendetta, Tara. I have a job in Reno. I have a career with ten years invested in it. I own a house. I am going to put things back on track, and yeah, I’m going to prove I am not my old man. I can do it if I just stick it out.”

“Houses sell. Careers change. Vendettas and guilt…they suck the life out of you.” He knew she was thinking about her ruined house. “Look what it got me.”

His arm tightened around her. “Not quite the same.”

“Close.” She snuggled even closer, her head now comfortably situated on his chest. “You should rethink this, Matt. It’s not healthy.” She yawned and Matt knew exhaustion and the lingering effect of shock were taking over.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah. As long as we’re being honest with each other. You know that other night…in my kitchen, when you thought you’d insulted me?”

Oh yeah, he knew that night.

“I wish you hadn’t left.”

“Why’s that?” He regretted the words as soon as he said them, but her answer took him aback.

“I need to get over what Ryan did to me.”

When Matt finally spoke, he forced himself to keep any trace of anger out of his voice. “Did he hurt you? Back then?”

“Yes,” she replied simply. “And more than anything I want to move past it. I thought you could help me.”

“Why me?”

“I trust you.” Her voice was getting softer. “And you’re leaving. I don’t want a relationship, Matt. I don’t think I’m cut out for one, but I want to know that I could have one, a physical one…sometime…maybe…” Her last words were barely audible. “With someone rock solid.”

Well, that put him out of the running.

He felt her body start to relax against his.

He waited until he was certain she was asleep and then he shifted his position so that he was more comfortable, but still holding her.

So, he’d read the situation wrong. It hadn’t exactly been a one-night stand she’d been asking for. She’d wanted him to make love to her to help her forget, to see if she could actually go through with it. No strings. Just two people who needed each other…for one night.

And she wanted it to be him.

Because he was leaving.

W
HEN
T
ARA AWOKE
,
she was alone in Nicky’s bed and she had a crick in her neck, as though she’d been sleeping in an odd position. She sat up, blinking into the bright sun and then an immediate, almost drowning wave of depression washed over her. Ryan had wrecked her house.

She got out of bed, wondering when Matt had left, and then another wave of horror hit her as she recalled what else had happened the night before.

She’d told Matt she wanted him to make love to her…and she had told him why. Practically made an appointment.

She felt an uncustomary flush of embarrassment. Maybe she’d been in shock the night before.
Please, Matt, make love to me—

Matt who had made the priorities in his life pretty darned clear. Matt who was heading right back into Stressville, full steam ahead, and was taking no passengers with him.

She may not have actually said the words
make love to me,
but she’d implied them.

Tara glanced at her watch and was stunned to see how long she had slept. Must have been some protective instinct, a way for her mind to escape the reality of the situation…her house…Matt.

And, oh, what a reality.

Her first thought upon stepping into the hallway was that maybe the damage wasn’t as bad as she had first thought; maybe it was mostly just clutter, things that could be picked up and either put back or thrown away. But as she walked into the kitchen, where Rafe was standing surveying the damage, she decided, yes, it was as bad as she had thought. Ryan had indeed kicked in her refrigerator and torn cabinet doors off their hinges. Two drawers had been shattered, probably stomped on. One of her antique chairs was broken. The purple penguin lay on the floor near the door.

“I called the insurance for you,” Rafe said as Tara put the bird back in its place. “The adjuster will be here in half an hour.”

Tara nodded her thanks, afraid that if she spoke, she might lose it. The reunion was days away. She was scheduled to have guests check in the day after tomorrow. Her house was a wreck. Damn. The Somerses may have actually won.

She straightened her back.

No. She wouldn’t let them win.

“I know it looks bad, Tara, but the best revenge against that rat bastard is to get this place back into shape, pronto.”

Tara smiled. “Thanks, Rafe. That’s my plan.” She was either going to win or die in the attempt. “Where’s Matt?” She felt her cheeks warm at the hopefully innocent question.

“In the shop, doing what he can for the worst cabinet doors.”

She nodded and went in the opposite direction from the shop, back into the parlor, stepping over debris as she went. The front door was propped open and Luke was busy forming a paper template to fit the broken pieces of leaded glass. Through the door she could see Ryan’s car, still parked at an angle behind her own. She turned away. She couldn’t really do anything until the insurance person came and assessed damages.

Maybe she should bolster her courage and go out to the shop and assess damages there. See how things looked in the light of day.

Better to just face things.
At least she had two traumas to ping-pong back and forth between, she thought grimly as she headed toward the kitchen and the back door. When one became too overwhelming, she’d focus on the other. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do when both became overwhelming.

“Oh…my…gosh.” Hailey’s voice came from the foyer. Tara had forgotten her friend was coming to help with curtains and finish the stenciling. Well, curtains and stenciling were certainly the last of her worries now. Tara reversed course.

Hailey stood in the mess and stared at Tara.

“Who did this?”

“Ryan Somers.”

Hailey looked around the decimated room and, for a moment, it seemed as if she were on the edge of tears.

“You need help. I’m calling Grandma.”

“No, don’t,” Tara automatically protested, but Hailey ignored her and walked to the phone, stepping over spilled plants and broken bric-a-brac. When she hung up a few minutes later she started picking things up, but Rafe stopped her. “We have to wait for the insurance adjuster.”

“Well, maybe I’ll go upstairs and do what I can on the stencils because later it looks like I’ll be busy.”

The insurance adjuster left an hour later. Two cars pulled into the drive as the adjuster’s car pulled out. Ginny got out of the first one and Lydie and Dottie the other.

“I can’t believe this, Tara,” Ginny said once she’d had a moment to take in the disaster. “When I heard about it, I quit the Inn.”

“You what?” Tara knew how much Ginny needed a steady income, being the sole support for her little girl.

“I didn’t like it there. Now I know why he hired me, and he probably would have let me go as soon as the reunion was over anyway. I’m here to help in any way I can.”

Lydie sailed into the house before Tara could reply, looking for all the world like a battleship steaming out of port. Dottie traveled at her side like a smaller escort ship. But apparently Hailey hadn’t quite prepared them for what they would see. They stopped dead in their tracks.

“This is…oh, goodness.” Lydie just stared, two circles of angry color forming on her cheeks, while Dottie bent down to pick up one of Aunt Laura’s Hummel figurines, checking it for chips. Tara had the distinct impression that if it were marred in any way, Mrs. Gibson was going to take it out of Ryan’s hide.

Dottie carefully set the figurine on the windowsill and pushed up the sleeves of her starched cotton blouse. “We have work ahead of us.” She looked up at Tara. “You can’t do this alone. We’re staying.”

Tara took a deep breath. “Yes, ma’am.” No one followed her as she maneuvered through the debris to the kitchen, where she started randomly picking up scattered flatware.

She heard another car pull into the drive and frowned. This was getting weird. She dumped a couple handfuls of flatware into the sink with a clatter. She understood why Rafe and Matt were there, and even why Hailey was there, but Ginny? Lydie Manzo? Dottie Gibson, the woman Tara despised because of the embarrassment she’d caused her years ago?

“This is amazing,” Tara said to Rafe a short while later, as more people began stopping by to pitch in, clearing debris, sorting items, assessing damage and possible solutions.

“You’re part of the community,” he pointed out as he helped her dump more flatware into a basin of soapy water.

Yeah, maybe she was. Finally.

“I didn’t want to be the community charity,” she pointed out grimly.

“Funny thing about charity—sometimes you’re on the giving end, and sometimes the receiving end. It helps you appreciate both positions.”

Tara didn’t answer. She focused on washing the forks, knives and spoons until Hailey came to ask her advice on the parlor armoire that Ryan had pulled over, breaking a door. Rafe took over dishwashing.

Hailey and Tara made a list of what needed to be replaced immediately and what could wait for the insurance check. Tara still hadn’t seen Matt. She wondered if he were hiding, hoping she wouldn’t force him into lovemaking. If he didn’t show soon, she’d have to go looking for him and let him off the hook.

“I just hope none of my guests come down to raid the fridge,” Tara muttered as she opened and closed the dented door a couple of times.

“Can’t make up your mind?”

Tara’s breath caught.
Time to face the music.

He was standing just behind her, holding a cabinet door in one hand. And he was looking at her…differently.

“Checking to see if it works,” she said, suddenly having more trouble than usual pushing words up out of her throat.

“You’ve got a lot of help here.”

“I’m the community cause.”

“It looks like you might be ready for guests by Monday.”

“Yes,” she agreed, trying to read him. He held out his free hand. Tara automatically took the object he held there. It was her concho barrette, in one piece again.

“I thought you might want it fixed,” he said. “Kind of a going-away present.”

“How?”

“I soldered it.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And you just happened to have silver solder?”

“I might have ordered it special.”

Tara’s lips trembled slightly and then she smiled. “Thank you, Matt.” She gave in to impulse and hugged him. He hugged her back with his free hand, the cabinet door still suspended from the other. And then his arm tightened, holding her against him as she pressed her face in the crook of his shoulder, deeply inhaling his scent and feeling her body go liquid as his became hard.

Luke limped into the room, with one of the drawers he’d built to replace those that Ryan had stomped. “Oh.” He started to backtrack, but Tara had already put some air between herself and Matt.

“Matt fixed my barrette,” she said, holding it up.

Luke nodded and cast Matt a questioning look. Some sort of male signal fired back and then Luke came into the room and started fitting the drawer into the cabinet.

But even with Luke there, Tara felt the sparks of awareness between her and Matt. Finally, she had to leave the room and begin to work in another. It was the only way she could focus.

By late morning, Tara finally started to accept, as some people left and other people came to take their place, that she really was the community project. She, who had never accepted charity in her life, was accepting it in a big way today.

She had just finished helping Lydie place unbroken Victorian bric-a-brac in a cabinet in the foyer when an odd silence descended over her crew. She turned and found herself looking straight into the hawklike face of Nate Bidart. Her heart stopped.

Oh, no. So much for her reservations and referrals.

She moistened her dry lips. “Mr. Bidart—”

“Nate,” he replied with a frown, his gaze traveling over the room which was about a zillion times better looking than it had been, but was still a shambles.

He shook his head. “And I thought it looked bad the last time I was here.”

Lydie stiffened and Tara touched her arm. Before either of them could say anything, Nate motioned with his head for Tara to follow him. She gave Lydie a “what now?” look and then followed him out.

They walked out the front door and Nate led the way to the old gazebo.

“I just got into town and stopped for lunch at the Owl,” he said after gesturing for Tara to take a seat. “I heard the news and decided to come out and sort fact from fiction. I see that, for once, most of what I heard was fact.” He sat on the bench opposite Tara.

“I’ve been doing some prying since I last saw you, and I have to tell you…I don’t particularly like the things that have come to light.” He glanced at the house, and then back down at her. “I’m beginning to think my friend Martin is a bit of a bully.”

No argument there.

“This is not the time to go into it, of course, but I just wanted to tell you…well, you’re not alone here. If you ever feel like you’re being pushed around, if you ever feel like you might need the services of a decent attorney…well, give me a call. I’ll see what I can do.”

“I didn’t know you still practiced,” she said. She’d thought he’d given it up for his business ventures.

“I keep a finger in the pie.”

She did have questions about what had happened to her aunt and about unethical lending practices aimed at the elderly. Nate might be just the man to help her.

“I appreciate the offer.”

“Least I could do.”

Nate stayed for almost three hours after his talk with Tara and she soon understood that he was not afraid to get his hands dirty. Before he left, he went over to pat Billie and Buddy, smiling as he did.

“I like stubborn folk.”

Tara grinned. “Then you’re going to love me.”

“You’ll have the rooms ready for my mother?”

“You know I will.”

Nate drove away a few minutes later. “I need to feed these people,” Tara told Rafe. He shook his head.

“Ben is on his way from Elko. He picked up fried chicken and salads at the grocery there.”

Ben and the lunch arrived and people ate on the move. The work continued into the evening, at which point the pizzas arrived, and Tara wasn’t all that surprised when she was asked where she had the upstairs furniture stored. She led the way to the barn and in a matter of an hour, the three second-floor bedrooms were furnished and ready for rugs and linens.

It was midnight when the last car pulled out of the drive.

Her house looked great. Well, not as great as it had before Ryan’s rampage, but better than she had dreamed possible in so short a time—and she was utterly exhausted. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.

Where was Matt? He’d been in and out all day, between the shop and the kitchen. They hadn’t had any time alone after he’d delivered his going-away present, but Tara had been so aware of him, both his presence and his absence.

She glanced out the window, just in case. He hadn’t left. His truck was still parked next to hers, moonlight reflecting off its hood.

“Looking for something?”

Tara slowly turned, leaning back against the counter as she held his gaze from across the room.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I’m looking for you.”

“Any particular reason?” Matt asked, propping a shoulder against the doorframe. Behind his glasses, his eyes were hooded.

Tara could feel the undercurrent swirling around her, engulfing her. Seducing her.

A tingle traveled up her spine.

Matt, studying her, loose-limbed, handsome…watchful.

It was Matt who finally moved, pushing off from the doorframe and slowly crossing the room to Tara. He stopped in front of her and looked down at her for a heartbeat before settling his hands at her waist. Tara thought he’d pull her close, but instead he surprised her by boosting her up onto the counter and, once she was settled, nudging her knees open to move into the
V
of her thighs. His eyes never left hers.

So that is how it’s going to be
.