Tycoon's Temptation

“Good night, Wood.” In a half-dozen steps, she disappeared behind her own bedroom door, giving him no hint whatsoever of the room beyond her door.

Probably pure innocence, to suit its occupant.

He closed his own door and curtailed the impulse to thump his head against the wood in frustration. The candlelight flickered over the walls, casting enough light for him to see by. He dumped the jacket on the end of the bed, grabbed one of the candles and went into the adjoining bathroom.

The delicate sent of flowers hit him with the subtle finesse of a two-by-four. He shoved the candle on the glass shelf above the sink and sat on the edge of the old-fashioned, deep tub. He knew if he reached down and touched the bottom, it would still be wet.

His mind filled with the image of Hadley in the tub and he deliberately eyed his dim reflection in the mirror across from him to banish the thoughts. He was losing it, pure and simple.

He didn’t like it.

He yanked off his shirt and went to the sink, flipping on the faucet to douse his face with the frigid water.

It seeped beneath the bandage on his forehead, setting off a fresh new pain, and it didn’t do squat to cool anything else. Swearing under his breath, he returned to the bedroom.

There wasn’t even room to pace, and for a minute he wished he’d never started this damn quest. That he was still in Kentucky. He had plenty of space to pace there.

In his office at Rutherford Industries.

In his spacious, empty apartment where the only scent left behind by any woman was the expensive one his mother wore on her very rare visits.

The women Dane knew didn’t smell of a field of wildflowers in the middle of the bloody damn winter. They wore designer clothes and designer scents and lingerie created with the sole intent of sophisticated seduction. They knew how to use others just as much as he did, he never invited them into his personal space, and he never had to worry that he’d hurt a single one of them.

He wasn’t into hurting innocents.

So he needed to get his head back in the game. He needed to find his control again. He needed to find Alan Michaels, since the police were clearly incapable of it, and make him finally pay for what he’d done all those years ago.

Maybe some would consider being institutionalized punishment enough for kidnapping Dane’s little sister, but Dane didn’t. Darby had only been nine. And even though she’d been recovered, the effects of that time had torn apart their family. Michaels should have been rotting in jail because of it, not strolling the green lawns and calming corridors of an institution too sensitive and lax to even keep hold of one of their more notorious “guests.”

Michaels would pay, and once he had, Dane’s life would be on course again.

All he needed to do was keep himself focused.

* * *

“I think the focus is off.” Hadley peered through the binoculars that Wendell had stuck in her face. He’d shown up at church that morning, scooting into the pew beside her, and she hadn’t shaken him since. Not during church. Not after church when he’d insisted on driving her back to Tiff’s. And certainly not since then, because he’d pulled the binoculars out of his glove box and trooped after her into Tiff’s, despite her warnings that she needed to get lunch on for her guests.

She started to adjust the binoculars again, but Wendell clucked and whipped the glasses out of her hand and looked through them himself.

“No, I think it’s perfect,” he assured. His dress boots crunched in the snow as he stepped behind her. He lowered the binoculars back to her face, his arms circling her from behind. “Now look again.”

Hadley didn’t want to look, and she didn’t want Wendell having his arms virtually surrounding her. But there the heavy black binoculars were, two inches from her nose, held firmly in place by Wendell’s knobby fingers.

Which made her feel unkind, so she leaned forward, stifling a sigh. All she saw through them was a reflection of her own eyelashes and a blur of tree branches.

“Well? It’s a perfect view of the cardinal, Had.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, crossed her fingers inside her mittens. “A perfect view,” she agreed. Then she ducked underneath his circling arms and faced him. She’d tolerated him all morning, and she had things she needed to do. Important things. Like rearranging the soup cans in the cupboard.

She felt unkind all over again. “So, Stu happened to tell you how much I enjoy bird-watching?”

“Just yesterday.” Wendell lifted the binoculars to his nose and peered intently at the trees in the distance. His smile was so wide it nearly reached around his head. “I never thought I’d find a woman who’d fit so well into my life, Had. I knew we were well suited. When we’re married, we’ll be as comfortable as old socks.”

She tugged on her ear. Hugged her arms closer, though the sun was climbing bright and warm against the cold day. “Wendell, I haven’t agreed to marry you.” Much less date the man.

He waved a hand though the binoculars stayed glued to his narrow face. “Oh, I know, dear. Take all the time you need.”

His tone was clear that he considered her capitulation a foregone conclusion. “I don’t really like old socks, Wendell.”

“Did you say something, dear?”

She shook her head. If he called her dear one more time, she might run screaming all the way to the state line. “I have to get lunch finished, Wendell.” She hoped to heaven he didn’t take that as an invitation.

“Hmm.” He continued watching his beloved cardinals. She figured when she wasn’t standing there holding him back, he’d probably traipse considerably closer to the woods to get a better look.

She stomped the snow from her boots and went up the back steps and in through the kitchen, tossing her good wool coat on the hook and not much caring when she missed. “I’m going to strangle him,” she muttered under her breath as she went to the stove and gave the homemade chicken soup a vicious stir. “Maybe whip him a time or two.”

No wonder Stu hadn’t shown his face at church that morning. He probably wasn’t working at the garage as she’d heard from Wendell. More likely, he was just hiding out from her, knowing she’d be furious when she learned what he’d told Wendell.

“Attack him with that deadly wooden spoon you’re wielding. Ought to be punishment enough for whatever he’s done.”

She whirled around. Chunks of celery and carrot flew off her spoon and hit the counter with a splat. “Wood. I didn’t see you.”

He lifted the newspaper in his hand. “Just walked in to get some coffee. Who are you plotting against?”

She wished she didn’t recall so vividly what his fingers felt like stroking the tender skin on the inside of her elbows. “Stu. He sicced Wendell on me again.” She wiped up the spill and rinsed the spoon at the sink. “Telling him I like bird-watching. It’s just mean, that’s all. Wendell loves bird-watching and frankly, well, frankly I couldn’t care less!” She craned her neck, peering out the window over the sink. “He’s out there right now, imagining us rocking away on the front porch, twin binoculars in hand.”

“Thought women liked to hear it when a man wanted to grow old with her.”

“Ha! I’m not talking about future years, Wood. That’d be us right now if he had the chance. He’s convinced we’re suited like two ‘old socks’ for goodness’ sake, and it’s all my brothers’ fault!” She wiped her hands and yanked the towel into a neat fold over the oven handle. “Old socks. No thank you.”

“Probably would do better to tell Wendell and your brothers that,” Wood murmured.

“I have! I’ve told them all that. But does it matter? Heck no. They just keep telling good little Hadley what to do, making her decisions for her, choosing her paths—” She cut off the mindless rant. Drew in a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Focused on Wood. “Coffee,” she remembered, and reached for the mug and the pot. She hadn’t seen him earlier that day, and she’d told herself that she hadn’t missed him.

Of course, she’d had to ask forgiveness during the silent prayers in church for that particular lie.

“Here.” She already knew he took it black, so didn’t offer milk or sugar when she handed it to him. “Wendell’s going to come in here any minute, call me ‘dear,’ and go through the rest of the day, secure in his mind that one day, he’ll have his old-sock wife handily nearby. And why wouldn’t he? It’s not as if he’s ever seen me with another man.” So much for stopping the rant. “There are hardly any single men around here and of the decent ones, two are already my brothers and right now, I’m not feeling so kindly toward either one that I’m still certain they’re decent! Don’t suppose you’d kiss me again or something right here in God’s broad daylight so he could see, would you?”

She didn’t dare look at him, so embarrassed was she at her own plea. “I know I have no right to ask any favors of you, but I swear, Wood, they’re going to marry me off to him.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “And that’ll be my life. I’ll be organized right into it, just like I was organized into running Tiff’s.”

“Sit down.” His hands closed over her shoulders and she found herself being nudged inexorably toward one of the iron chairs around the small table in the sunny bay of windows. “This place was your mother’s, wasn’t it? I thought you wanted to run it.”

She curled her fingers into her fists until she could feel the pricks of her nails. He crouched down in front of her, his hands resting lightly on the seat on either side of her knees. And she ought to have felt hemmed in, just the way she’d felt by Wendell, but she didn’t.

“I didn’t mean that.” How could she? Tiff’s had been her mother’s dream. Tiff’s and marriage to Beau Golightly, who’d been the only father Hadley had ever known. “I’m just… I don’t know what I’m saying. See? I’m so frustrated. Would you—” she swallowed “—be willing to try the Tipped Barrel again? I know it wasn’t much of a success the other night, and you wouldn’t have to really, you know, act interested in me or… or anything.” She was humiliating herself right and left. “You could play pool like you did last night, then the evening wouldn’t be a complete bore!”

He exhaled. “Nothing about you is boring, Hadley.”

She laughed, wanting to cry. “Everything about me is boring,” she whispered fiercely, “and that’s why Wendell thinks we’re so perfect for each other!” And she’d just asked this man to kiss her, this man who’d been nothing but nice to her, who clearly had some other interest already given the woman—and she was sure it had been a woman—he’d met the night before.

And the most embarrassing part of it all was that she wasn’t sure asking him to kiss her had anything really to do with Wendell at all.

“First,” he said gruffly, “you need to stay out of the Tipped Barrel. I shouldn’t have taken you in there in the first place. It’s a dive. And secondly, stop worrying. You can’t be forced into marrying someone.”

She pushed his hands away and rose, yanking down the hem of the beige cable-knit sweater she wore over a long beige skirt. “Easy for you to say. You’ve probably never done anything in your entire life that you didn’t choose to do.”

His lips twisted as he rose. “Then you’d be wrong, sweetness, believe me.”

When nothing else seemed fit to stop her runaway rant, his flat voice did the job. And she could tell by his expression that asking him what he was referring to would get her nowhere. She exhaled. Switched subjects. “How does your head feel today?”

“Like the drum corps beating inside it have finally taken a breather.” He lifted his hand. “And don’t start in with the apologies again.”

He didn’t have knobby fingers. They were long, blunt tipped and capable looking. Capable of wielding tools, steering wheels and willing women.

She swallowed and turned back to the stove once more. “I’m glad you’re feeling a little better,” she managed evenly. “Will you be staying in for lunch?”

The back door opened without ceremony, and Wendell trooped in, his binoculars hanging from the long strap around his lanky neck. His orange-andblue-plaid scarf straggled around his serviceable parka, and Hadley felt her nerves tighten up even more when he didn’t so much as lift an eyebrow at Wood’s presence in the kitchen.

Why would he? After all, Hadley ran a boardinghouse. There were plenty of people who were often around. Just because Wood was six-plus feet of palpitation-inspiring masculinity, it didn’t mean diddly to Wendell.

Wendell rounded the counter and bussed Hadley’s cheek. “See you later, dear.”

Her molars ground together and she just stood there, mute, as he bounded through Tiff’s. Even when she heard the front door slam shut, she didn’t move, because if she did, she very much feared she was going to scream her head off.

“Hadley?”

She closed her eyes for a moment. Prayed for sanity. She wasn’t going to be anyone’s old sock. She just wasn’t. “Yes, Wood?”

“Your soup is boiling over.”

She jerked. Looked. “Oh, rats, bats and spiders,”

She muttered as she hurriedly turned off the flame under the pot. The stovetop was a mess. She yanked the pot off and stuck it in the sink, cleaned up the stove, then ladled the soup into the tureen that she’d already set out.

When it was full, she started to lift it, but Wood nudged her hands away. “I’ll get it,” he murmured.

Kindness. More kindnesses. Instead of warming her, it made her want to throw something.

She gathered up the rest of the lunch items and carried them out to the dining room. Arranged it mindlessly, rang the bell and grabbed her coat again.

She went out the back door, stomped around the side of the house, and headed up the street. By the time she made it to Stu’s garage, her temper—rather than being walked out—had only increased.

Her truck was sitting in the lot, hood closed, and she was headed for the office when she saw Evie’s trio of kids playing on the snow drifting up the side of the building.

Her irritation with Stu took a hiatus and she headed over to the kids. She hadn’t seen them at church that morning, either. Not that their absence was particularly unusual. Charlie—to Beau’s dismay—wasn’t a very church-going man. “Hey, guys. What’s up? How’s the arm?”

Alan, the eldest at ten, shrugged. He’d broken his arm before Christmas playing football with some bigger kids. “It itches.”

She nodded sympathetically. Julie and Trev, eight and six respectively, were using a plastic cup to dig holes in the snow. “Your mom inside?”

“Yeah.” Alan leaned against the wall and kicked his foot desultorily back against it. “She wants Uncle Stu to watch us while she goes to Billings.”

“I wanna go to Billings,” Julie complained.

“I wanna go to Auntie Had’s,” Trevor said. He smiled his winsome smile up at Hadley. He’d lost his front teeth recently and couldn’t have been any cuter if he’d tried.

“Last time you went to Auntie Had’s, you broke a window, dipwad,” Alan said.

“Come on, now,” Hadley winked at Trevor and chucked Alan under the chin. “You once broke a chair,” she reminded him humorously, and Trev made a so-there face at his big brother.

Hadley looked at Julie. “So what’s so special in Billings?”

“I want a new dress.”

Hadley nodded, taking the announcement with due seriousness. Julie always wanted a new dress. She was the definitive girly-girl. “And there are no new dresses here in Lucius?”

Julie sighed. “I’ve seen them all.”

“Ahh. A problem, indeed.” She looked over when the door to the office squealed open and Evie stomped out. “Hi.”

Evie stopped, clearly not expecting to see Hadley standing there. The expression in her blue eyes closed. “Stu can’t watch you guys today,” she said.

“Then we can go with you.” Julie looked delighted. Evie, however, did not.

“The kids can stay with me, if you need them to, Evie,” Hadley offered. There’d been a day when her sister would have told her that she was going to Billings for some reason. A day when she’d have just dumped off the kids with no warning, in fact. But those had been days when Evie smiled, when she seemed happy and that hadn’t been the case for more months than Hadley cared to acknowledge.

Evie let out a breath. “It’ll have to do,” she said abruptly. She leaned over and kissed her children’s foreheads, one after the other, and pulled her key chain out of her pocket. “Charlie left a little bit ago for a job in Miles City. I have to pick up his father from the airport in Billings. I won’t be back until after suppertime, so Charlie’ll have to pick up the kids.” She hurried off to her car, parked on the far side of Hadley’s truck.

“Drive safely.”

Evie waved but didn’t look back.

Hadley looked down at the kids. At least now she knew what Evie’s reasons were for the trip. Even if it did seem spur-ofthe-moment. “Well. Have you had lunch?”

They all shook their heads. “Mom told us Uncle Stu would take us to Luscious,” Alan said hopefully.

Hadley grinned a little. “Much as I like Luscious, I don’t have time for lunch there. But you guys can have lunch at Tiff’s, then you can help me bake some cookies. And Ivan is bringing out his sleigh and horses for one of my guests, so you’ll get to see that, too.”

Julie perked up a little at that. Trev was always happy to see her at Tiff’s. And even Alan didn’t look particularly peeved at the notion. So Hadley stuck her head quickly in the office. Spied Stu. “I’m taking Evie’s bunch home with me. Since when is Charlie’s father coming to visit?”

Stu shrugged and kept right on stacking small boxes of auto parts in their places. “Who knows? I gotta get this delivery stocked and then I’m meeting a guy about a truck I want. Couldn’t have taken her kids with me if I’d wanted to.”

“How is Wood’s car coming along?”

He finally looked over at her. “Slow. Original parts are hard to come by, and he’s insisting on them. The guy’s a pain, but he does know cars. Heard you and Wendell went to church together this morning.”

“Don’t go there, Stu.” It wouldn’t take much for her anger to rear its head all over again. “I’m not doing anything together with Wendell.”

“Aw. Come on. You’re perfect for each other. He’ll take good care of you, Had. He’s a good guy. And you’ll never have to worry that he’ll treat you like Charlie treats Evie.”

That was probably true, but hardly the point, as far as Hadley was concerned. She also knew that Evie didn’t allow interference in her life from their brothers, no matter what. Even though Hadley’s concern for her sister lately was increasing, she still envied her sister that ability. “Why are you so set on pushing me at him, Stu?”

He shoved a few more boxes into place, though she hardly could see how, considering how full the stock shelves were. “Maybe ’cause we want to see you happy, Had, and not flitting off somewhere again like you did last summer!”

“I didn’t flit off. I was taking a class!”

“Class,” he muttered. “Like you’re gonna be some famous writer someday. Run off and find your fame and glory or something.”

She pressed her palms to her stomach. “I’m not planning to run off, Stu.” Not like his mother had. Beau’s first wife, Evelyn, had left him with three children well before Hadley’s mother had come on to the scene, and she’d never come back. “And even if I were, shoving Wendell down my throat at every corner isn’t likely to make me want to stay!”

“You oughta be married and having kids of your own by now,” he said gruffly.

“Well, you’re thirty-five. Where’s your wife and kids?” She shook her head, annoyed all over again, and not even having some sympathy for the roots of his behavior was mitigating it. “Stop messing in my life, Stu. I’m warning you.”

At that, he smiled. “I’m quaking in my boots, Had.”

She turned on her heel and strode out, slamming the door behind her hard enough to knock some of his carefully towered boxes right back down again. “Come on,” she gestured to the kids who were waiting. “Let’s go.”

“Had, wait.” Stu had followed her out. “Your truck is good to go.” He tossed her the key. “Until next time, anyway.”

Hadley caught the key and waved the kids toward her truck. Having her transportation back in working order was something, at least.

The kids piled in and she drove back to Tiff’s.

Once the children had left no question that there would not be any leftovers from the lunch Hadley had prepared, she settled them in the kitchen with cookie makings. Before long, Mrs. Ardelle and Joanie joined them, and within an hour the smell of sugar cookies was filling the kitchen.

Hadley left them long enough to finally change out of her church clothes and into her usual jeans and a white T-shirt. Then the phone rang. She stared at it for a moment, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t be Wendell. Didn’t matter. She still had to answer the thing.

“I’m looking for a, um, Wood Tolliver?” The voice was feminine and very husky. A phone-sex voice.

Not that Hadley knew what a phone-sex voice sounded like. “Can you hold on for a moment and I’ll see if he’s in his room?”

“Of course. Thank you.”

Hadley carried the cordless unit with her and knocked on Wood’s door.

He yanked it open a moment later, looking a trifle harried. As if he’d been raking his fingers through his hair a few dozen times. His sleeves were shoved up his arms, and she could see papers scattered again all over his bed. She wondered anew what it was that necessitated so many notes. He seemed to have more of them than her latest manuscript attempt did. “Phone call for you.”

He stared at the phone she extended as if he’d never seen one before. “Who is it?”

“I didn’t ask.” Some woman. Maybe the woman you were with last night. “And I’m busy.” She pushed the phone into his hand and turned away.

Unfortunately, she didn’t move fast enough to miss his impatient “Hello” followed by his much less impatient “Hey, there, sweetheart.”

Well, of course, she told herself.

Guys like Wood Tolliver naturally had a “sweetheart” somewhere. She was just fooling herself to think otherwise.

He may have kissed her, but she was the type of woman the Wendell Pierces of the world wanted, not the Wood Tollivers.

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