Читать книгу: «Tempting Janey»
Janey’s emotions couldn’t take another blow.
Her stomach heaved, her shoulders shook and tears gushed down her cheeks.
“God, Janey, don’t,” Dillon pleaded in an agonized voice.
Then he lunged to his feet and strode toward her, stopping so close that she could feel his breath warm her skin when he spoke again.
“I don’t know when to keep my bloody mouth shut.”
“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, her lips accidentally grazing his. Wide-eyed, their gazes held while Janey’s breath constricted and her head reeled.
“God, don’t look at me like that or—” He broke off again, then added, “Oh, to hell with it.”
As before, his kisses started out feather light, on her temple, her cheek, her mouth. They barely touched as he murmured, “I didn’t mean to upset you more.”
“It’s all right,” she sobbed, circling her arms around his neck until his lips were locked tightly and frantically against hers.
“Aptly named, Baxter’s latest novel boasts sensuality as its strongest feature—the attraction between the hero and heroine sparks fire from the first and keeps on burning hot throughout.”
—Publishers Weekly on Sultry
Tempting Janey
Mary Lynn
Baxter
www.mirabooks.co.uk
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
One
The quietness bothered him.
It wasn’t natural, Dillon Reed told himself as he ambled down the main hall of Brookwood High School, where he was principal. This hall and the others should be teeming with students laughing, talking and slamming locker doors.
All that and more would start again soon enough, Dillon reminded himself with a quirk of his lips. First thing in the morning, in fact. But on this Wednesday evening, just after dark, the students were gone and silence was the order of the day.
Dillon didn’t make a habit of cruising the halls when they were empty. His purpose for having stopped by the school on this particular evening was to get his briefcase, which he’d forgotten. After that, he was headed to his sister’s, where he was expected for dinner.
But since he had some time to kill, he’d figured he might as well stroll down the main hall and check for new graffiti on the walls and lockers, something that never failed to raise his ire.
Dillon paused, feeling the silence close around him like a tomb. The place was downright gloomy without its usual hubbub.
What was wrong with him? He spent more than his share of time on the job, arriving way before the first bell rang and leaving long after the last one had sounded. In fact, he was on the premises a lot at night—the only time he could get his paperwork done—and the silence had never bothered him before.
What was different about tonight?
He wasn’t complaining. He loved what he did, loved every nook and cranny of this new building, loved every minute he spent walking the halls and grounds. He’d worked his way up through the ranks of the system, starting out as a teacher and coach, then moving up to guidance counselor, and now to principal.
He wasn’t content, though. He had his eye on a superintendent’s position. But he wasn’t in a hurry. Right now, he was content to remain hands-on with the kids. Keeping up with them kept him young in mind and spirit. When the time was right to make the move, he would know it.
However, he wasn’t interested in getting too far away from Hunter. This small South Carolina town of forty thousand plus, perfectly positioned between Charleston and Savannah, was home to him. And since he’d invested heavily in a chunk of land—land that he hoped to make into a profitable horse farm—he intended to be picky about future jobs.
A deep sigh escaped Dillon just as he reached his office and unlocked the door.
That was when he heard the noise.
When he couldn’t identify the sound, every muscle in his body tensed. He didn’t move; he almost stopped breathing as his military background booted his system into high alert. He listened.
Nothing.
Dillon almost wilted with relief. His imagination was obviously working overtime, which wasn’t a bad thing. Blatant mischief and much worse were problems that all schools had to contend with. It never paid to be careless, and he couldn’t let himself get overconfident that his facility was different simply because he ran it with an iron fist.
He had the door all the way open and had reached for the light switch when he heard the noise again. He stood still, feeling his heart up its pace and the hairs stand out on his neck. No mistake this time. Something was going on.
Suddenly a crashing sound, like that of glass breaking, interrupted the stark silence.
Someone else was definitely in the building.
The lab. That was his first guess. It was at the opposite end of this hall and full of plenty of breakable objects. Rage rendered him immobile for several more seconds before it hit his body like a shot of adrenaline.
He spun on his booted heels and charged down the hall, careful at the same time not to let the culprit or culprits know they had company.
Dillon had no idea what he would encounter, but it didn’t matter. Whoever was responsible for what was going down would pay dearly. No one destroyed Brookwood property and got away with it.
Another crash assaulted his ears just as he rounded the dark corner. He flinched, but his feet never faltered. Hoping to sneak up on the intruders unannounced, he hadn’t turned on the lights. That would have sent them scurrying out the side door of the lab before he could get to them.
When Dillon paused at the door and eased his head around, only the glow from a high-powered flashlight greeted him. Still, he was able to see two people, both males, both young, both wearing caps, masks and gloves.
Students, his instincts told him. Smart students, at that, having thought to shield their identity.
They were having a high old time, too, beating the hell out of the equipment. One had a baseball bat in hand, the other had a hammer. Broken glass, microscopes and computers were strewn about.
The place looked like a war zone.
After seeing the havoc the little creeps had wreaked, Dillon’s rage threatened to choke him. This was the first time this kind of malicious destruction had taken place at his school. But no more. He was about to bring their party to a halt.
“Hold it, boys. Playtime’s over.”
“Oh, shit!” one of them yelled, then tore off toward the door. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here!”
The other one obviously needed no second invitation as he shot over the debris like a sprinter and dashed toward the exit, almost running over his companion in the process.
Dillon followed suit, only to curse silently. The door. He’d underestimated their closeness to the side entrance that made a quick exit possible.
By the time he reached their avenue of escape, the boys were through the door and racing across campus. Dillon chased them, but he knew he was wasting his time.
A nondescript pickup was parked in an area of almost total darkness not far from the lab. They jumped in it and took off before he could get near them, much less get a license plate number.
“Damn,” he muttered, sucking in a deep breath.
He’d screwed that up royally, he admitted as he turned and made his way back into the building. If he hadn’t been so cocky, so sure of his ability to handle the situation, he would have called the cops the second he heard the sound of breaking glass.
By the time he’d have investigated and found out what was going on, the law would have been there. But no, he’d had to plunge in headfirst on his own.
“Dammit,” he muttered again out of sheer frustration as he strode into his office. Once there, he called the police, then waited for their arrival, but not patiently.
What was happening to kids these days?
He’d asked himself that question untold times, but he still didn’t have an answer. Years ago, when he first entered the fascinating world of teaching children, nothing like what he’d just witnessed had ever taken place—at least not that he could remember.
How times had changed. Breaking and entering was actually considered a mild offense. Now kids were killing kids. Kids were killing parents. God, it made no sense whatsoever.
What it did do, though, was frighten the hell out of him. He was of the opinion that youngsters should behave and be responsible for their actions. He loved “his kids,” but they knew better than to cross the line he’d drawn in the sand. Or at least he’d thought so, he told himself, mentally kicking his own rear.
Apparently he’d misjudged his control, refusing to have security guards in the halls of his school. After all, he was an ex-Marine whose rough edge would help him handle any situation that might occur. Until now, that rough edge hadn’t failed him.
His thoughts were interrupted by two uniformed officers making their way into his office.
Following introductions, Dillon told them what had taken place.
“Too bad you didn’t get the plate number,” Officer Temple, the taller of the two, said.
When he had first seen them, Dillon had hidden a smile. One was as tall as a giraffe, the other as short as a Shetland pony. Side by side, they reminded him of Mutt and Jeff.
Dillon’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll admit the little creeps got the better of me. But I thought I could handle them and the situation.”
“That’s never a wise assumption, Mr. Reed, especially in this climate.”
“I know that now,” Dillon said harshly, again mentally kicking himself. It was damn embarrassing to make such a gross error in judgment and be caught at it. “Come on, let’s take a look-see at the lab.”
The officers made notes, then called the lab team to scour the premises, which Dillon knew would be a lost cause. The kids had played it smart. He’d noticed they were wearing gloves.
Officer Riley, the short cop, finally said, “We’ll do what we can, but you’ll probably have better luck checking around the campus yourself.” He paused and rubbed his chin. “That is, if you think it was some of your students.”
“Oh, I think that’s a real good possibility,” Dillon said in a grim tone. “I just hope the break-in wasn’t gang related.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Officer Temple said, his voice brusque.
Dillon tightened his lips. “I’ve suspected we have one trying to form on our campus, but I haven’t been able to prove it yet.”
“I hope you’re wrong,” Riley said. “But gangs are springing up faster than cancer.”
Dillon remained silent as the lab team completed their work. Once they were gone, he made a quick inventory, then called the janitorial supervisor to clean up the mess. That done, he grabbed his briefcase, flicked off the lights and left the building.
First thing tomorrow morning, he would turn into a not-so-nice Santa. He would make a list and check it twice.
Dillon steered his utility vehicle through the gates of his hundred-acre horse farm. But instead of making a hairpin right turn that would take him to where his sister and brother-in-law lived, he braked and shoved the gearshift into Park.
While the engine purred, he stared into the darkness. At the moment he was lucky. The late-August clouds had drifted away from the nearly full moon, giving it carte blanche to shine for all it was worth.
Dillon took advantage of that treat. To the left, he could see the cabin that sat atop the hill. One day he planned to remodel it so that he could live there. He could envision its homey coziness, with smoke snaking out of the chimney from a wood-burning fireplace on a cold day, and a dog—the Heinz-57 variety—sitting beside him.
The only thing missing from that picture was a woman.
Muttering an expletive, he focused his gaze on the shack, over which towered several huge oak and pine trees that kept it shaded all year long. Beyond, but not visible to him now, was an acre of cleared land. From there, a narrow gravel road wound through the dense thicket like a tunnel. Occasional clearings offered glimpses of the nice-size pond below, which had been filled with catfish. Any time he wanted fresh fish, he just had to cast a line.
Dillon continued to pat himself on the back that he’d had the foresight three years ago to buy the land when it was offered. Despite the hefty bank note he would be paying off for a long time to come, he didn’t regret it.
This place was his lifeline. Without it, he didn’t know what he would have done. Probably have sunk into the depths of despair and been content to wallow there.
Grimacing, he refused to let his mind wander down that forbidden path. He had too much ahead to look forward to. His horse farm had the potential to begin paying off soon, now that his prized piece of horseflesh was almost ready to be bred. And he was starting a new school year that held a lot of promise.
For a second, Dillon’s mind reverted back to the incident in the lab. He grimaced again but refused to let himself dwell on that, either. The school problem he could correct; the past he couldn’t.
Suddenly he realized he’d been lollygagging far too long. His sister, Allie, was probably ready to skin him alive. She believed in punctuality, no matter what. Nothing wrong with that, he reminded himself.
Thinking of his sister, a legal secretary for an affluent attorney, made him smile. That smile remained intact as he parked in front of the modest three-bedroom home on his property, a home he’d generously lent to Allie and her husband, Mike, who worked as his foreman.
His smile widened as the porch light flipped on and Allie opened the door. “It’s about time, brother dear,” she called out, a hand braced on one hip.
Dillon stepped out of his truck and heard the comfortable crunch of leaves and pine bark under his feet. He inhaled, positive he could smell fall in the air, then said, “Hey, sis.”
“Don’t you ‘hey, sis’ me. You’re late.”
“I can explain,” Dillon said, walking onto the porch. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her next to him.
A smile flirted with her lips. “I’ve heard that before.”
“Ah, give me a break, will ya?”
“I’ll have to think about that.”
They parted as they walked into the cheerfully lighted living-dining room combination, where the smell of freshly baked bread permeated the air.
“Before I hear your excuse, how about a hunk of banana-nut?”
“Ah, my favorite,” Dillon exclaimed.
“I shouldn’t let you have any,” Allie said with a mischievous glint in her eye.
Dillon merely grinned, knowing that her threat was empty. She loved for him and everyone else to compliment her cooking, especially her bread. She was known for that specialty all over town.
But then, Allie was known for a lot. She lived to entertain. She enjoyed people, and they enjoyed her. At thirty-eight, two years his junior, her face was still relatively unlined, although she had prematurely gray hair that she didn’t bother to color.
Like him, she was tall and rawboned. Yet her height and build didn’t make her less attractive. Her vibrant blue eyes and ready smile made for a charming combination.
He loved her dearly and couldn’t imagine his life without her, since he had no other family. Their parents had died in a freak auto accident a long time ago. Since then, they had stuck together.
That was why those dark circles under her eyes and that pinched look around her mouth, visible in the light, gave him cause for concern.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She made light of his inquiry. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You tell me,” he said, not quite ready to let her off the hook.
“I might be coming down with the same virus that struck the office.”
“As long as that’s all it is.”
“Stop nagging,” she chastised in a light tone. “You’re worse than some old woman. A lot worse than Mike, and he’s bad enough.”
Dillon laughed. “All right, you win. For now. So where’s that bread?”
“Have you had dinner?” she asked, facing him from in front of the cabinet.
“Nope, but I’m not hungry—except for a huge piece of that bread.”
“I’ll be glad to heat you a plate of peas and corn bread.”
Dillon eased down into one of the kitchen chairs. “Thanks, but I’ll pass tonight. Just the bread, ma’am.”
A few minutes later, he was rubbing his stomach and grinning at his sister, who was staring at him over the rim of her coffee cup.
“Well?” she asked.
He reached for his cup of decaf and took a sip. “Well what?”
“Jerk,” she muttered.
He laughed out loud. “All right, it was the best yet. But then, you know that.”
“It’s nice to hear it, anyway.”
“By the way, where’s Mike?”
Allie made a face. “It’s Wednesday, remember? He’s playing poker with his buddies.” She paused and gave him a pointed look. “I wish you had someone to hang out with.”
“I’ve been at the school,” Dillon said, intentionally ignoring her last provocative statement.
“Why am I not surprised?”
Dillon told her about the break-in.
“Did it ever occur to you that you could’ve gotten hurt?” Her tone was incredulous.
“That was the least of my worries. I just wanted to catch the little shits.”
She let out a deep sigh. “I wish you worked as hard on perfecting your personal life as you do on that school.”
“Now, Allie, don’t start,” he said, taking another sip of coffee.
She went on as if he hadn’t said a word. “Are you still seeing Patricia Sims?”
Dillon curbed his impatience, but barely. “Actually, I’m taking her out Saturday evening. It’s her birthday.”
“Well glory hallelujah.”
“But don’t get your hopes up, sister dear. She’s just a friend and will never be anything else.”
Allie threw up her hands in dramatic fashion. “I give up. You’re hopeless.”
“Hey, I’m happy with things just the way they are.”
“I don’t believe that. It’s time you were interested in another woman, for heaven’s sake. It’s been three years since Elaine’s death.”
Dillon didn’t respond right off, thinking that if Allie only knew what a disaster his marriage had turned out to be, she wouldn’t be pushing him in that direction again. But she didn’t know, and to tell her now would serve no purpose.
He marveled that his dirty little secret had remained just that. In a town this size, he couldn’t believe Allie hadn’t been bombarded with the truth. He suspected the reason for that oversight was that she and Mike had only recently moved back to Hunter. Mike had worked for an oil-drilling company in Texas until he’d gotten hurt and had to quit.
“I know you’d like to have a child. Lord knows, you and Elaine tried hard enough. If I recall, she miscarried twice.”
He made an effort not to wince visibly. But every time that subject was mentioned, it was like someone had scratched the scab off an old wound, leaving it raw and oozing again. “You’re right, I would like to have a child, but not enough to remarry.”
“Oh, Dillon, I hate to hear you talk like that. You have so much to offer a woman.”
He gave her a halfhearted smile. “You’re just biased.”
“Maybe a little, but—”
“Hey, give it a rest, will you? Like I said, I’m content with my life. I have my eye on being a superintendent one day, plus I have the farm, which I’m determined to turn into a profitable business—with Mike’s help, of course.”
He paused and reached for Allie’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “So you see, you don’t have to worry. I’m fine.”
“What you are is hardheaded,” she said, withdrawing her hand and getting to her feet. “I’ll send some bread home with you.”
He stood. “Is that a hint to leave?”
“Of course not, silly,” she said with a grin. “But it’s either do something constructive with my hands or slug you.”
He chuckled. “I’d best be going, then. Anyhow, I need my rest. The rest of this week and next is shaping up to be a killer, what with football season officially starting and the break-in to sort out.”
“I hope you find out who’s responsible.”
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t turn out to be gang related. I’ve been lucky so far.”
Allie shivered. “Kids are not like they used to be.”
“You got that right.”
They walked arm in arm to the door, where Allie handed him his doggie bag. He thanked her, then kissed her on the cheek.
He was almost to his vehicle when she said, “By the way, don’t forget to pick up a box of candy or some flowers for Patricia.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You just don’t know when to give up, do you?”
She flashed him a smile. “No, brother dear, I don’t.”
Dillon simply snorted.
Two
What a day.
Janey Mayfield rubbed the back of her neck, then peered at the clock behind the counter in her candy shop, Sweet Dreams. Almost closing time. Thank heaven for small favors, she thought, as she began making preparations to reverse the Open sign in the window.
What was wrong with her? The answer popped readily to mind. She was tired, but then, she had a right to be. In the month since she’d returned to South Carolina, her world had been turned upside down again. She’d had to adjust to another new home and a new career, that of a businesswoman who now owned and operated her own shop. At thirty-seven, that was no easy feat.
Often Janey felt as if she were on a treadmill that wouldn’t stop and let her get off, even for a minute.
Yet she wasn’t complaining. Her eyes surveyed the premises. This delightful shop, filled with the fanciest to the plainest of candies, was all hers, thanks to the generosity of her aunt Lois, who had chosen to retire to an assisted living facility in Savannah after suffering a stroke.
Even so, repairs of all sorts needed to be done, both upstairs and down. But they would have to wait. There was simply no money to make them.
Despite her problems, though, she had so much to be grateful for. After getting her teenage daughter Robin up and off to school, Janey always looked forward to dressing, walking downstairs to the smell of candy, chatting with her customers, then ringing up their sales.
But this day had been a particularly difficult one. Perhaps it was the fact that business had been incredibly slow that made her anxious. Sweet Dreams had to do well. There was no choice. She had no choice.
As a divorced single parent with a seventeen-year-old daughter to rear, she had to turn the shop into a profitable venture. Everything depended on it. During the last year of her aunt’s ownership, sales had begun to lag for no apparent reason, but Janey felt confident in her ability to swing sales in the other direction by introducing change and innovation.
Maybe her less than enthusiastic mood was simply weather-related. Even for the end of August, it had been cloyingly hot. The two air-conditioning units, one for the living quarters upstairs and one for the shop below, had been laboring overtime.
After summer heat so muggy and heavy that the clouds and mosquitoes could barely pierce it, fall would be an exquisite relief. Janey suddenly brightened at that thought.
In the years she’d been gone, she’d forgotten just how bad summers in the South could be. But when she’d arrived from Colorado, reality had slapped her in the face.
This, too, shall pass, she reminded herself with another dig at her neck muscles. Hot weather wouldn’t damage her, but a lack of customers just might. Refusing to dwell on that depressing thought, she grabbed the bottle of glass cleaner and a paper towel, and went to work on the counter.
“Mom, I’m home!”
The sound of her daughter’s voice never failed to buoy her spirits. Circumstances beyond her control had kept her away from her child for several months. Robin had returned to South Carolina at the end of her junior year in order to be on the drill team her senior year. But nothing would ever separate them again, she vowed fiercely. Life without Robin wasn’t worth living.
“I’m about ready to close.” Janey made her way to the side door. When she didn’t see her daughter, she asked, “Where are you, darling?”
“I’m already upstairs. I’ll be down in a sec.”
Janey always looked forward to the end of the day, when Robin would come bounding through the door, excited and eager to share the details of her day. Because she was a member of the drill team and had practice every afternoon, she didn’t get home until late.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” Janey smiled, then walked over and gave Robin a quick hug. “So how was your day, young lady?”
Munching on an apple, Robin shoved a swath of shoulder-length, strawberry-blond hair behind one ear, then perched on the stool at the end of the counter. A grin enhanced her features. “Nothing special—except I aced my Trig test.”
“Why, that’s great, honey.”
Robin’s grin deepened, and Janey’s heart melted. She and her ex-husband Keith had made a lot of mistakes in their marriage, but their daughter hadn’t been one of them. Janey marveled every day at this delightful child they had created.
She was tall and slender, with light brown eyes and incredibly long lashes that were dark despite her light-colored hair.
And while Robin wasn’t perfect—not by a long shot, Janey reminded herself ruefully—she wouldn’t change anything, except maybe her daughter’s strong-willed nature.
“How did the shop do today?” Robin asked.
Janey felt her features sober. “Not good. In fact, it was the pits.”
Robin took another bite of apple, then asked, “Wonder why?”
It was on the tip of Janey’s tongue to tell her daughter not to talk with her mouth full, but she refrained. Robin would merely roll her eyes, then give her that “look.”
“I have no clue,” Janey said instead. “I’ve tried to blame it on everything, even the weather.”
Robin stood and tossed her half-eaten apple in the nearest trash basket. “Man, oh man, was it ever hot today. We sweated our buns off, practicing.”
“So everything’s still going all right with the team?”
Robin’s face lighted. “Things are awesome, actually. We learned a new routine today that we’re going to perform at the first home game. Can’t wait for you and Dad to see it.”
“Well, you don’t have long to wait. Friday night next week, right?”
“Righto,” Robin replied, heading toward the door. “I’m going up and drown in the shower. I’m icky.”
Janey wrinkled her nose. “I wondered what that unpleasant odor was.”
“Jeez, Mom!”
Janey laughed. “Just teasing.”
“So what’s for dinner?”
“What do you want?”
“Pizza.”
“When you get through drowning, call it in.”
After Robin had disappeared up the stairs, Janey shook her head. Teenagers—a different breed. At times not human. Maybe that was a more apt description. She didn’t know many parents who would argue that point with her.
But she wouldn’t want it any other way. She would take the good with the bad and enjoy every moment. As it was, her daughter was growing up much too fast to suit her. She would have liked to slow time down so she would have more moments to savor. Since that wasn’t possible, she would make the most of the time Robin still had at home.
If only she didn’t have to share Robin with her ex-husband. If only she didn’t feel guilty about the divorce because of Robin. Keith had turned out to be a womanizing lush, and theirs was a family ripped apart at the seams. It had been a terribly difficult adjustment for Robin.
“Hey, Mom.”
Saved. Her daughter’s timing was perfect. She hated it when her guilty feelings resurfaced and she dwelled on them.
“Yes, dear?”
“I’m going after the pizza.”
“Be careful.”
Noticing that the clock registered five-thirty, she headed to the front door. That was when she saw a utility vehicle pull up. For a moment she was tempted to turn the sign around, anyway, but she didn’t. She needed the money more than she needed the time.
She’d barely made it back to the counter when she heard the buzzer on the door. She swung around with a smile, only to feel it freeze on her lips.
Dillon Reed.
Janey’s breath caught as she struggled to hide her warring emotions. It had been inevitable that one day she would see him again. For one thing, he was her daughter’s principal. For another, this was a small town. Sooner or later, everyone’s paths crossed, like it or not.
“Janey?”
She strove to make her voice sound as normal as possible, though she wasn’t sure she could pull it off. “Hello, Dillon.”
He hadn’t changed all that much in the three-plus years since she’d last seen him. His hair was still unruly and night-dark, but now with a few sprinkles of gray—not unexpected, since he was forty.
His blue eyes certainly hadn’t changed in intensity. They still had the power to cut straight to a person’s soul. Possibly that was why he was so good with kids. He appeared taller and more muscular than she recalled, as if he’d been using the weights.
He was dressed in jeans, a shirt, a casual sports jacket and boots. He looked like he ought to be running a ranch instead of a school. The only thing missing was the Stetson.
Had he always been such a hunk?
Hunk or not, character lines scored his lean features, and there was a rugged hardness about his mouth.
“Is this place yours?” Dillon asked, shattering the tense silence.
“Yes, as of a little over a month ago.”
“Well, I have to say I’m shocked. I never expected you to come back to Hunter.”
“I never expected to, either.”
She turned away, unable to meet the challenge of those deep-set eyes or that earnest gaze.
“So how’ve you been?” he asked in his caramel-smooth tone.
Was there a slight strain in that voice, or had she imagined it? She faced him again, though with reluctance. Was he as uncomfortable with the situation as she was? No doubt she was agitated and on guard, but she couldn’t gauge his reaction at all. He was a master at hiding his thoughts.
“I have no complaints,” she said at last, forcing herself to loosen up.
“You look great.”
She looked away, then back. “Thanks.”
“So how’s Robin?”
“Attending your school and performing with the drill team.”
He looked sheepish for a moment. “Sorry, somehow that fact got by me.”
“That’s understandable. You have hundreds of students.” She felt as though she was rattling on, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “You can’t be expected to remember them all.”
He shifted from one booted foot to the other, then stared at her out of bleak eyes. “Look, Janey—”
“It’s all right,” she interrupted quickly, taking a deep breath. “There’s nothing else to say. So let’s just give things a rest, okay?”
He didn’t respond for a moment. Then he shrugged. “It’s your call.”
“So what can I do for you?”
His eyes had darkened now, and she experienced an involuntary shiver. “Sell me a box of candy.”
Janey forced a smile. “Now that I can do.”
A few minutes later, after she locked up behind him and watched him drive off, Janey leaned against the door, her heart pounding like a jackhammer inside her chest.
Three
“I wish I were built like you.”
Robin gave her friend Beverly Olson an exasperated look. “You look fine the way you are.”
“I look fat the way I am,” Beverly responded in a sarcastic tone.
Underneath that sarcasm, Robin picked up on the note of despair in her friend’s voice. She stopped what she was doing, walked over and sat beside Beverly on the steps of her front porch. An uneasy silence fell between them.
Beverly seemed unusually sensitive about her weight today, Robin thought. Maybe it was because the first big game was imminent, and Beverly was getting nervous about performing in front of the home folks. For whatever reason, Robin was at a loss as to how to comfort her.
She and Beverly had more or less established a set time to practice their routines in Bev’s front yard. This Saturday was no exception.
“How do you stay so damn skinny?” Beverly asked, giving Robin a playful nudge on the shoulder. “You eat like you’ve been felling trees and don’t gain an ounce.”
Robin smiled, glad to see her friend’s good humor return. She knew, however, that Beverly was really serious when it came to her weight problem.
“You might need to lose a few pounds,” Robin said, “but you’re still the best one on the squad.”
“Baloney.”
“No, it’s not baloney.” Robin stood and peered down at Beverly. “You’re as limber as a rag doll and can do any routine perfectly on the first try. Trust me, that counts for something.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather be thin and clumsy.”
Robin placed her hands on her hips and pretended to be offended. “Are you saying I’m clumsy?”
“Nah,” Beverly replied, her grin sheepish. “You’ve got it all together.”
“That’s baloney, too. I’m the one Mrs. Morrison’s always ragging.”
“Well, what do you expect? She’s blind in one eye and can’t see out of the other.”
They both giggled, then sobered.
“I guess we’d better get back to the grindstone,” Beverly said, getting up. “This coming Friday’s looming large.”
“Right. And since I haven’t quite gotten the hang of that new step, I need help.”
Robin didn’t really, but she wanted Beverly to feel needed. In spite of Beverly’s weight, Robin thought her best friend was pretty. Beverly was tall, with mid-length, sandy-colored hair that was silky and shiny. Her eyes were a dark gray, and her skin was flawless. Most of all, she had a sharp wit and sense of humor that made her a blast to be around.
Robin adored her, especially since Beverly was the only one who had befriended her when she’d returned from Colorado. Most of the others in the class had treated her like an outcast.
They were just jealous, Beverly had told her, because she was so “everything” they weren’t. Robin hadn’t believed that for a second—but she didn’t know what she would have done if Beverly hadn’t become her friend.
Now, in their senior year, their friendship had deepened. They shared everything except clothes.
“What’s churning in that brain of yours?” Beverly asked. “You’re staring holes through me.”
“Sorry,” Robin said. “I was just thinking about how tough it was when I came back here, and how you got me through those miserable times.”
Beverly chuckled. “I loved it the first day you tried out for the team. You were great, and most of my so-called friends were green with envy. And I enjoyed every minute of their misery.”
“You’re awful.”
“No, I’m truthful. Eloise and entourage needed some competition. And you gave it to them. It was a hoot.”
Robin’s features clouded. “Most of them still don’t like me.”
“So what? Who needs them? All they think about is guys—which one is going to get in their panties next.” Beverly paused and grinned. “Oops, my mistake. They don’t even wear panties.”
Robin giggled. “I hate to agree with you, but I do.”
“Speaking of Eloise and company, they just drove up.”
Robin peered over her shoulder, feeling her heart drop to her toes. The afternoon was ruined, for sure. She hated the competition that went on among the drill team, mainly the catty jealousy. But it existed, and she had to face it or get sucked under.
“Wonder what we did to deserve such luck?” Beverly muttered, as four girls piled out of a Lexus sports coupe and walked up.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Eloise Frazier asked, batting her big brown eyes and smiling her fake smile, appearing as innocent as a newborn babe.
Robin knew better. The captain of the drill team was as innocent as a hooker on Sunset Boulevard. And she was up to something. It was only a matter of time before she and Beverly found out what.
“We’re just taking a break from practicing,” Beverly said.
“Want us to watch?” Sally, another of the girls, asked.
“Nope,” Beverly said. “Not unless y’all want to perform for us.”
Another of the girls spoke up. “We don’t need any more practice. We’ve got the routine down.”
“Bully for you,” Beverly said.
Robin knew a verbal slinging match was not far off, and while Beverly could more than handle the situation, Robin didn’t want to be part of it. So she smiled at the fourth girl, Mandy Taylor, then changed the subject. “Is that your car? It’s awesome.”
Mandy returned the smile. “Actually, it’s my mom’s.”
Of the four girls, all officers on the drill team, Mandy was salvageable, Robin thought. When the girl wasn’t around Eloise, she could be sweet.
“Lucky you, to get to drive it,” Robin added, thinking of the older, much less desirable model she drove. Her dad worked for a car dealership but he certainly hadn’t bought her a new car. And her mother couldn’t have, even if she’d wanted to. Robin suspected her mom was just managing to squeak by.
“My parents are getting me a BMW,” Eloise chimed in.
“That’s nice,” Robin forced herself to say in an even tone, though she dared not look at Beverly for fear they would burst out laughing. Eloise just had to be one up on everyone. She was truly a pain in the butt, though sometimes Robin actually felt sorry for her, because she always had to be the center of attention. What a heavy burden to bear.
“Hey, look who just drove up,” said Jodie Tipton, the last of the four to speak.
All eyes darted to the street and watched as a truck pulled into the drive.
“That’s my brother, Cody,” Beverly said. “And it looks like he’s got Chad with him.”
Robin’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Chad Burnette. It beat even faster when the senior star quarterback climbed out of the truck.
To die for.
That description fit him to a tee. He was big and brawny, with longish dark-blond hair and green eyes. Even though he was cocky and self-assured and knew without a doubt that he was good-looking, Robin didn’t care.
He didn’t know that she was alive on planet Earth, though, which she did care about. She’d had a mad crush on him since the first time she saw him. Although they had been introduced at a party last year, she couldn’t recall his having spoken to her since.
Following Beverly’s haphazard attempt at introducing her brother to everyone, Eloise asked, “Hey, Chad, how’s it going?”
Robin knew the two of them had been an item for several months. Then, rumors had it, Chad had dumped Eloise, but, Eloise, though furious, hadn’t stopped caring about him.
“It’s going,” Chad drawled, his eyes seemingly scoping out each of the girls.
When Robin felt his gaze settle on her, she swallowed hard.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“Chad, honey,” Eloise blatantly interrupted, “how ’bout letting Cody drop you off by my house when you leave here?”
His eyes never left Robin’s face, though his words were obviously meant for Eloise. “Not interested.”
Robin flinched at his rudeness, while Eloise sucked in her breath loud enough for everyone to hear. Then everyone else seemed to start talking at once.
But Robin couldn’t have spoken if her life had been in jeopardy, for Chad had walked over to her and was now staring down into her eyes.
“Have we ever met?” he asked.
Robin licked her dry lips. “Actually, yes.”
“I must’ve had a brain fart, ’cause I sure don’t remember.”
“Hell, Burnette,” Cody chimed in, “you don’t even have a brain.”
“Cut the crap,” Chad said, still not taking his eyes off Robin.
“Yeah, big brother,” Beverly said in a firm but good-natured tone. “Butt out.”
“So, Robin,” Chad said, speaking for her ears alone, “you going with anyone?”
Robin swabbed at her lips again. “Uh, no.”
“Can I call you?”
“That would be great,” Robin replied in a breathy voice, her insides going haywire.
“Hey, Chad, let’s go.”
He flicked Robin on the chin and winked. “Later, then.”
It was after Chad had turned and walked off that she caught the full force of Eloise’s vindictive glare. A chill darted through her.
How did he always manage to wade in the deep stuff?
Dillon had asked himself that question several times already and still had no answer. Before long he was going to need hip boots.
First, he’d discovered he was going to have to be much more patient when it came to finding out who’d broken into the lab. He’d made his list, all right, and even done some snooping. So far, though, he’d come up empty-handed.
Then he’d come face to face with Janey Mayfield, who had treated him as if he had a communicable disease. Her attitude shouldn’t have rankled, but it did. Just who the hell did she think she was? She had no right to pass judgment on him, though it was obvious she didn’t see it that way.
What a damn awkward moment. When he’d realized who owned the candy shop, he’d wanted to turn around and get the hell out. That absurd reaction, however, had lasted only a moment, his good breeding and common sense coming to his rescue.
Though it had been years since he’d last seen her, she appeared much the same—in looks, anyway. While never beautiful, she had always been attractive—and still was, though she appeared more on the thin side than he remembered. However, her curves were in the right places. He’d noticed that, much to his chagrin.
Of course her hairstyle had changed. She now wore her reddish-brown hair shorter and tousled, giving her a softer, sexier look. But the real change was in her clear brown eyes. They reflected a guarded intensity that hadn’t been there before. But then, he couldn’t blame her for that.
What he could blame her for was her attitude toward him, and for refueling his own painful memories.
Now he was sitting in a restaurant with another woman, having dinner, when he would rather be at home. Alone.
“Dillon.”
The sound of Patricia’s irritated voice brought him back to the moment with a start. “Mmm?”
“What’s the matter with you?” she demanded. “You’ve hardly said a dozen words since we got here, and we’ve finished our meal.”
She was right, he admitted silently. His mind and heart weren’t in the evening. Crossing paths with Janey yesterday had definitely soured his mood, which was ludicrous, but a fact nonetheless.
“Sorry,” he said lamely, feeling more like a heel than ever.
“I don’t think so,” she responded bluntly.
“I really am sorry if I’m ruining your birthday. It’s just that I’ve got a lot of things on my mind.”
She frowned. “Obviously I’m not one of those ‘things.’”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Look, Pat—”
She held up her hand. “I know we’re just friends. You’ve made that plain from the beginning, but—” This time she stopped her own flow of words with a shrug. “And I’m okay with that—for right now,” she added hurriedly, giving him a teasing smile. “But I’m not giving up, so be warned.”
His gut instinct told him to douse that hope with the brutal truth, but he refrained. After all, this was her birthday, and he couldn’t bring himself to totally destroy the evening.
He hoped he wouldn’t regret his actions later. As he’d told Allie, Patricia was a friend and nothing else. He cared about her, but he felt no chemistry, sexual or otherwise, which he deemed necessary in any relationship.
That was unfortunate, too, since Pat was a woman who had a lot going for her. She was several years younger than he, divorced, with no children. She was attractive, too, with short black hair and dark eyes. And she owned her own business, a successful beauty salon. He sensed she would marry him in a minute. For that reason, he decided it wouldn’t be wise to take her out after tonight.
“Hey, I’m still here, remember?”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “I know. All I can do is apologize again.”
“How about ordering coffee, instead?”
That was when Dillon realized the waiter was hovering over his shoulder. “Works for me,” he quipped, then did just that.
After the waiter had disappeared, his eyes accidentally wandered toward the door of the restaurant. Suddenly he sucked in his breath and held it.
“What’s wrong?” Pat asked, a frown marring her features.
He cleared his throat. “Nothing.” Liar, he told himself, watching Janey Mayfield and her daughter thread their way between tables, heading in their direction.
Great, he thought with disgust. Just great.
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