Nora Roberts Land (11 page)

He dipped his head, covering his expression. “I appreciate the invitation, Jill,” he said softly, “and forgive me for being direct, but do you always ask new customers over for dinner?”

Her hand cupped her mouth in an effort to repress her laughter. “Heavens no. And don’t worry, I’m not coming onto you either.” She pointed to herself and sputtered. “You’re way too old for me. No offense.”

Jemma barked out a laugh from behind her.

Jill nabbed a jelly donut with the tongs and slid it into a paper bag. “I asked because I thought you’d be interested in meeting my family, being a journalist and all.” A little prevarication wasn’t a bad thing since she was helping her sister. “Have you ever heard of
The Western Independent
? Would you like to meet my grandpa, Arthur Hale?”

He blinked a few times before a grin broke out across his nicely chiseled face. “He’s a legend. I’d love to meet him, Jill.”

“Great.” She wanted to twirl around like a top. “My sister, Meredith, just got back in town. She’s a journalist too.”

He tugged on the cuffs of his blue dress shirt. “I’ve heard of her. She worked for
The Standard
and
The Daily Herald
, right?”

“Yes, she did. How did you know?”

“She’s a Columbia grad like me. I’m sure I read it in the alumni news.”

“You went to Columbia too?” Oh this was too good. Mere was going to be over the moon.

“I sure did.” He walked over to pick up his to-go coffee from Jemma, who still had a big smirk on her face. “I’d love to meet everyone. I’ve admired your grandfather for years. What he’s done out here with
The Western Independent
is remarkable. I used to read it online overseas, especially at election time.”

“Oh, Grandpa will just love that. Dad had to do some major convincing to put it online. Gramps isn’t much on technology.”

“What can I bring?”

“Just yourself. How about seven o’clock on Friday?”

“Perfect, and I’ll bring a bottle of something. White or red?”

She wanted to float. “Red.” She pulled out her lucky Flying Purple People Eater pen and wrote their address on a napkin, along with her cell phone number. “Here. It’ll be fun.”

Another customer sauntered forward, and Tanner moved aside. “See you then. Thanks for the invite.”

When he walked out, she executed a ballerina leap across the length of the pastry case.

“Good work!” Jemma cried.

Jill took her hands and swung them around. “Mere’s going to love me.”

Could she keep the secret from Meredith for three full days? Sure, she could.

She did the cha, cha, cha, imagining Meredith’s happiness.

Chapter 12

M
eredith choked on her red wine when she caught a glimpse of Tanner sitting next to her grandfather in the family room, looking smoking hot in tan slacks and a gray dress shirt.

Jill elbowed her. “Why do you keep doing that? Maybe you should see Dr. Kelly…professionally.”

She turned her back on Tanner, fussing with her green low-back top and black pants. “
This
is our mystery dinner guest?” she hissed.

Like Helen of Troy, her sister’s beautiful smile could have launched a thousand ships. “Yes, isn’t it great? He walked right into the coffee shop. I invited him to dinner straight away. I owed you after making us flee Hairy’s because of all the Brian drama the other night.”

“Are you two done conferring like defense lawyers?” Grandpa Hale inquired, tapping his cane on the hardwood floor.

When Meredith turned around, her eyes instantly met Tanner’s wide chocolate brown ones.

“
You’re
Meredith Hale?” His brows snapped together. “But you’re the girl from the pool!”

She clutched her wine glass to her chest. “Ah…how can you tell?”

He walked toward her, pointing to her back. “You have a…” His finger dropped. His gaze slid to Jill, who was eagerly—and unabashedly—listening. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

He studied Meredith with enough intensity that she feared she’d snap the stem of her wine glass. She dimly heard her grandpa ask Jill something over the buzzing in her ears. Sista Pimp faded away with a smirk.

“You have red hair.” He sounded incredulous.

She frowned. “What? You don’t like redheads?” Oops, that came out wrong.

“On the contrary.” He continued staring. “I…couldn’t tell the color under your swim cap.” When he leaned closer, her whole body tingled like someone had plugged her into an electric outlet.

“What are you doing?” She clutched her wine glass to her bustier. Come on, Divorcée Woman, help me out.

“I wondered about your eyes behind the goggles. They’re green.”

“Yes.” She noted the golden ring around his pupils—caramel coating chocolate. Desperate to break eye contact, she walked around him to kiss her grandpa, who was sitting on the couch. Her legs shook like a newborn calf.

Chicken,
Divorcée Woman chimed in.

“It’s about time you got to me. I know I’m an old man, but I’m still blood.”

She pinched his ruddy cheek. “Old, my…eye. You tore my editorial to pieces, old man.”

He waggled his bushy brows. “No, I simply restructured it. It reads better now. Don’t you think?”

It did, but it galled her to admit it.

“Makes an old man happy to know he still has things to teach you after being in the Big Apple.” He patted her arm. “Better watch out for this one, Tanner. She could run circles around you.”

Tanner lifted his wine glass in a mock toast. “We’ll see.”

Jill was perched on the leather footstool in front of their grandfather, her yellow dress dotted with red dragons.

“I’m Tanner McBride by the way. I didn’t give you my last name when we met.”

If she’d been drinking her wine, she would have choked again. Tanner McBride, the journalist. And he was going to be teaching at Emmits Merriam. She hadn’t put two and two together before.

“So, you two have met before?” Jill asked.

“We…sorta swam at the pool at the same time,” Meredith said, glaring at Jill.
Don’t you dare say anything, Sista Pimp,
she tried to say with the look,
or he’ll know I practically had a sensual seizure over him at Hairy’s the other night.

“I’ve read your work,” she continued smoothly when it was clear Jill intended to keep her trap shut. “It’s good.”

That was modest praise. He was fabulous at capturing political undercurrents and the human dimension of violence. He’d reported from Jerusalem, Beirut, Baghdad, and Kabul. Under other circumstances, she’d have been delighted to meet him. There was plenty of substance to go along with that incredible body.

But there was still one problem.

He was a journalist.

She hadn’t told Jill about her vow, thinking she wouldn’t run into any problems in Dare. She was related to most of the people who worked on the paper, after all.

Her vow was like not dating a man with your ex’s name. It just wasn’t done.

“He’s damn good,” Grandpa Hale commented. “Have to talk you into writing some articles for
The Independent
while you’re here.”

“It would be an honor, sir. I’d be happy to start now. My fingers have been itching to write up a good story.”

“It’s a deal then,” her grandpa announced, reaching out to shake Tanner’s hand.

“Dinner’s ready,” Jill announced. “I don’t have mom’s talents, but we won’t starve. Plus, Meredith helped. She’s much better in the kitchen than I am.”

“You should have cooked at my house,” Grandpa scolded.

“I ruled that out. You barely have coffee.”

“I’m a lonely bachelor now, Tanner. My wife of nearly fifty years passed a few years ago. If you find one like her, snatch her up quick. They’re damn rare.”

Grandpa put his arm around Meredith, as if implying she was one of the rare ones. She was tempted to dig her elbow into his side.

“Let’s head to the dining room,” she said quickly.

Gramps positioned Tanner directly across from her. When he winked, she gave him the stink eye. He was probably imagining happy little reporter children running around with black ink in their veins, asking teachers and classmates if the school milk was contaminated. He’d love to have this guy in the family.

She glanced at Jill, who blew her a kiss. Everyone but her seemed happy with the situation.

Okay, that wasn’t fair. Rick-the-Dick had been a journalist, and they hadn’t liked
him.
Not one bit. Well, they knew bupkis about their dinner guest, so for all they knew, he could be just as bad.

When she glanced over at Tanner, she noticed he was fighting a smile. Oh yeah, he knew exactly what was going on. Amused, was he? Well, haha.

After eating their way through sautéed chicken breasts, garlic mashed potatoes, and asparagus with nacho cheese sauce—so Jill—Meredith rose to help her sister make coffee and serve dessert.

Tanner put a hand on Jill’s shoulder. “I’m sure you make better coffee than I do, but please, let me do something. Meredith, would you mind showing me around your mother’s kitchen?”

She rose since it would look impolite to decline. When the kitchen door swung shut behind her and Tanner, Meredith turned and put her hands on her hips. “You’re awfully helpful.”

He shrugged—all tall, muscular man. “It’s the least I could do.” He filled the coffee pot with water. “Plus, I wanted to be alone with you for a minute, so it seemed like a good plan. Where’s the coffee?”

Meredith pulled the container out of the cherry cupboard. “Why?” she asked, but she already knew. Her heart beat in strong smacks against her ribcage.

He didn’t measure the coffee. “You’re a smart girl, so I’m sure you can figure it out. I’ll tell you anyway, though…I was intrigued by the woman I met at the pool.”

She crossed her arms over her bustier, appalled she was so turned on by something as pedestrian as a man making coffee. “How did you know it was me when we met in the family room? I’ve been swimming for most of my life, and even I have trouble recognizing people when they have their clothes on.”

His lips twitched. “Interesting way of putting it.” He hit the on button.

The sound of percolating water punctuated the silence. When he walked toward her, she stepped back and hit the counter. His smile spread as he moved closer.
Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum
filled her head again. Her gaze slid to his full lips. He had a small scar near his mouth, but it only made him manlier. Her body tightened as she inhaled the scent of his musky cologne mixed with the smell of coffee.

“You have a mole under your right shoulder blade, and that shirt makes it easy to see it.” His hushed tone raised the hairs on her arms. “You also have another mole I found incredibly sexy, but I couldn’t see it in the family room…” His gaze slid down her body. “Since you have pants on.”

Oh. My.

“Of course, the next time we race, I plan to look for it again.”

When he met her eyes, she licked her dry lips.

Jump him,
Divorcée Woman drawled.
You know you want to.

Oh, shut up. “So we’re racing again?” She sounded like a breathy harlot.

He leaned closer and ran his hand down her arm, setting off nuclear nerve endings. “Be a shame not to when we match each other so well stroke for stroke.”

Her thigh muscles spasmed. “Are you always this forward?”

“We’re only talking about swimming, Meredith,” he said, his dress shoes nudging her black ballet flats.

She cocked her head, fighting the urge to flick her hair over her shoulder. “Oh yeah?”

His mouth tipped up. “Well, yes, and your mole. So what’s your favorite stroke?”

Her heart thundered so fast in her chest it felt like someone had pressed the pedal to the metal. Were they really flirting over swimming strokes?

Who cares
? Divorcée Woman interjected.
It’s hot.

“Freestyle,” she responded in that same raspy voice, a la Marilyn Monroe.

Tanner hummed. It reverberated through her body.

“Long, even strokes characterized by power and endurance.”

She flushed with heat.

He gazed at her mouth as he continued. “I like to warm up with freestyle, but finishing with the butterfly is the only way to go. It’s all about build-up. Once you’re limber, you need to take your stroke to the next level. Surging and thrusting out of the water with power and coordination, your lungs burning as you race to the finish line.”

Was she going to faint? She felt light-headed.

Faint into him, you idiot!
Divorcée Woman yelled in her head.

“Perhaps we can compare notes the next time we swim.”

Meredith dropped her gaze from his face and studied the strong arms filling out his gray dress shirt. She remembered what those muscles looked like dripping wet. Whimpering would be totally inappropriate, but she wanted to. God, the man was as intoxicating as Valrhona bittersweet chocolate.

He put his hands on either side of her, brushing their bodies together in a wildly tempting caress. “Maybe we could go out for breakfast after our next swim.”

The idea of going out for breakfast with this man fired up her imagination about other things…like wild sex and a sleep over. She leaned back for breathing room, but there was nowhere to go. He surrounded her. She couldn’t smell anything but him, and the counter was biting into her back.

He had her body purring, but that damn wounded part of her was sounding the alarms. Her lack of confidence—courtesy of Rick-the-Dick’s hurtful parting words—clanged like a train trolley.

And Tanner was a journalist. Just. Like. Rick.

She pushed him back with a hand to his hard, muscular chest, needing space. She searched for the caramel apple pie Jill had brought home from the coffee shop and raced over to it. Her hands shook as she took out the plates and dessert forks. Deep breaths seemed like a good idea to clear out Tanner’s musky smell, but she couldn’t seem to take in a full one. Her lungs had deflated like balloons after a disappointing party.

“I can’t…have breakfast with you,” she rasped, frantically touching her bustier. Even that wasn’t doing much to restore her confidence. Damn it.