He had seen seasoned war veterans who didn’t have the kind of grit she possessed in order to walk into that courtroom each day. He was astonished at the soft tenderness seeping through him, at his fierce desire to take her hand and assure her everything would be okay.
He couldn’t do it. Not with his own deception lying between them.
“Anna, I need to tell you something,” he said.
“What?” For just an instant, she shifted her gaze from the road, her eyes wary and watchful.
“I haven’t been…” Honest, he started to say, but before the words were out, Conan suddenly interrupted him with a terrible retching sound like he had a tennis ball lodged in his throat.
Until this moment, the dog had been lying peacefully in the cargo area of the minivan but now he poked his head between the driver and passenger seats, retching and gagging dramatically.
“Conan!” she exclaimed. “What’s going on, bud? You okay?”
The dog continued making those horrible noises and Anna swerved off the road to the wide shoulder, turned off the van and hurried to the side to open the sliding door.
Conan clambered out and walked back and forth a few times on his leash. He gagged once or twice more, then seemed to take care of whatever had been bothering him.
A moment later, with what seemed like remarkable nonchalance, he headed to a clump of grass and lifted his leg, then wandered back to the two of them, planted his haunches in the grass and looked at them expectantly.
Anna watched him, a frown on her lovely features. “Weird. What was that all about?”
“Carsick, maybe?” Max suggested.
“Conan’s never carsick,” she answered. “I swear, he has the constitution of a horse.”
“Maybe he just needed a little fresh air and a convenient fern.”
“So why the theatrics? Maybe he just needed attention. Behave yourself,” she ordered the dog as she let him back into the back of the vehicle.
Conan grinned at both of them and Max could have sworn the dog winked at him, though of course he knew that was crazy.
“We’re almost to Neskowin and my favorite place,” Anna said as she returned to the driver’s seat. “Are you ready for lunch?”
He still needed to tell her he was Abigail’s nephew. But somehow the time didn’t seem right now.
“Sure,” he answered. “I’m starving.”
“Trust me, you’re going to love this place. Wait until you try the chili shrimp.”
He couldn’t remember the last time he had permitted himself to genuinely relax and have fun.
In the military, he had been completely focused on his career, on becoming the best Black Hawk pilot in his entire division. And then the last six months had been devoted to healing—first the burns and the fractures, then the infection, then the nerve damage.
All that seemed a world away from this gorgeous stretch of coastline and Anna.
While they savored fresh clam chowder and crab legs at a charming restaurant with a spectacular view, they watched the waves roll in and gulls wheel overhead as they laughed and talked.
She told him about growing up with three older brothers in Utah and the trouble they would get in. She told him about her father dying in an industrial accident and her mother’s death a few years later from cancer.
She talked about her brother the biologist who lived in Costa Rica with his wife and their twin toddler girls, who knew more Spanish than they did English and could swim like little guppies. About her brother Daniel, a sheriff back home in Utah and his wife, Lauren, who was the only physician for miles around their small town and about her brother Marc, whose wife had just left him to raise their two little boys on his own.
He would have been content just to listen to her talk about her family with her hands gesturing wildly and her face more animated than he had seen it. But she seemed to expect some conversation in return.
Since he didn’t think she’d be interested in the stepsiblings he had barely known even when his mother had been married to their respective fathers, he told her instead about his real family. About his army unit and learning to fly his bird, about night sorties when it was pitch-black beneath him as they flew over villages with no electricity and he felt like he was flying over some lunar landscape, about the strength and courage of the people he had met there.
After lunch, they took a short walk with Conan along the quiet, cold beach before continuing the short trip to Lincoln City.
Though he had been careful not to touch her all day, he was aware of the heat simmering between them. He would have to be dead to miss it—the kick of his heartbeat when she smiled, the tightening of his insides when she laughed and ran after Conan on the beach, the burning ache he fought down all day to kiss her once again.
She was the most beautiful woman he had ever known but he couldn’t find any words to tell her so that didn’t sound corny and artificial. As they reached the busy outskirts of Lincoln City, he watched, fascinated, as his lighthearted companion seemed to become more focused and reserved with each passing mile.
By the time they drove into a small district of charming storefronts and upscale restaurants and pulled up in front of the cedar-and-brick facade that said By-the-Wind Two, she seemed a different person.
“You can wait here if you’d like,” she said after she had turned off the engine.
“I’d like to see your store, if that’s okay with you,” he said. There was a much smaller likelihood of anyone recognizing him as Abigail’s nephew in Lincoln City than if he’d gone into the original By-the-Wind, he figured. Beyond that, he really did want to see where she worked.
“Can I carry something for you?” he asked.
“I’ve got six boxes here. They’re extremely fragile so we would probably be better off making a few trips rather than trying to haul everything in at once,” she said.
He picked up a box with his good arm and followed her to a side entrance to the store, which she unlocked and propped open for them. They carried the boxes into what looked like a back storage room then they made two more trips each, the last one accompanied by Conan.
After they set down the last boxes, Anna led the way into the main section of the store.
He looked around with curiosity and found the shop comfortable and welcoming, very much in the same vein as Aunt Abigail’s Cannon Beach store. Something jazzy and light played on a hidden stereo system and the wall sconce lighting in the bookstore area made all the books seem mysterious and enticing. Plump chairs invited patrons to stay and relax and apparently they did. Several were occupied and he had the feeling these were regular customers.
A long-haired gray cat was curled up atop a low coffee table in one corner. Conan hurried immediately over to the cat and Max braced himself for a confrontation but the two of them seemed to have an understanding.
The cat sniffed, gave him a bored look, then sauntered away just as a woman with a name badge that indicated she worked at the store caught sight of them and hurried over to greet Anna.
She looked thin and athletic, with long, salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a ponytail and round wire-rim glasses that didn’t conceal her glare.
“Excuse me, what are you doing here? Get out.”
Anna tilted her head, much as the long-haired cat had done. “Last I checked, I still own the place.”
The older woman all but shook her finger at her. “This is supposed to be your day off, missy. What do I have to do, hide your van keys so you take some time off?”
Anna laughed and hugged the other woman. “Don’t nag. I know. I just brought the shipment of blown glass floats that was delivered to the other store. They’re all in the back waiting to be stocked. You should see them, they’re every bit as gorgeous as the few samples we received. I was afraid I wouldn’t have time to drop them off before court tomorrow and I know they’re already a week overdue.”
“We would have gotten by without them for another day or two.”
�
�I know, but it was a lovely day for a drive. Sue Poppleton, this is my new tenant, Lieutenant Harry Maxwell.”
The woman gave him a friendly, curious smile, then turned back to Anna. “Since you’re here, do you have five minutes to help me figure out what I’m doing wrong when I try to cancel a preorder in the system?”
“Of course. Max, do you mind just hanging out for a moment?”
“Not at all,” he answered.
He headed for a nearby display of local travel books and was leafing through one on local history when he heard the front door chime. He didn’t think much about it, until he realized the entire section of the store had gone deadly quiet.
Chapter Twelve
“Get out,” he heard Anna say with a coldness in her voice Max had never heard before.
Conan growled suddenly—whether at her tone or at something else, Max had no idea but he now burned with curiosity.
Not knowing quite what to expect, he stepped away from the display so he could get a clear view of the door.
The man standing just inside the store didn’t look threatening at all. He was one of those academic-looking types with smooth skin, artfully tumbled hair, intense eyes behind scholarly looking glasses. Exactly the sort one might expect to find sitting in a bookstore on a Sunday afternoon with a double espresso and the New York Times crossword puzzle.
So why the dramatic reaction? Conan was standing in front of Anna like he was all set to rip the man apart and even her employee looked ready to start chucking remaindered books at his head.
The guy seemed completely oblivious to their animosity, his gaze focused only on Anna.
“Come on, Anna. Cut me a break here. I was across the street at the coffee shop and saw your van pull up. I left an excellent croissant half-eaten in hopes you might finally give me a chance to explain.”
“I don’t need to hear any explanations from you. I need you out of my store right now.”
Her voice wobbled, just a little, but in that instant Max figured it out. This must be the bastard who had screwed her over.
He took a step forward, thinking he could probably knock the guy out cold with one solid left hook, but he paused. Maybe it would be better to see how things played out.
Besides, she looked as if she had plenty of help.
“Call off your mutt, will you?”
The dog Max had never seen do anything but enthusiastically lick anyone who so much as looked at him still stood in a protective stance in front of Anna, low growls rumbling out of him.
“I ought to let him rip your throat out after what you’ve done.”
“Come on, baby. Don’t be like this.”
He raked a hand through his hair and gave Anna what Max figured he probably thought was some kind of melting look.
Anna appeared very much frozen solid. “Like what?” she asked quietly. “Like a woman who finally found her brain about six months too late and figured out what a cabrón you are.”
Max didn’t know much Spanish but he’d heard that particular term in the army enough to know it was not a particularly affectionate or flattering one.
Sue chortled, which seemed to infuriate the man even more. His face turned ruddy beneath his slick tan and he took a step forward, only to pause when Conan growled again.
His mouth hardened but he stopped. “How long did you have to practice that injured victim act you played so well in court when you testified?”
“Act?” Anna’s voice rose in disbelief.
“Come on. You knew what was up the whole time. You just preferred to look the other way.”
Anna drew in a shaky breath and even from here, Max could see the fury in her eyes. “Get out. That is your last warning before I call the police. I’m sure the judge will just love to find out you’ve been in here harassing me.”
“Careful, babe. Harassment is an ugly word. You don’t want to be throwing it around casually. Of course, sometimes it’s a perfectly appropriate word. The exact one, really. Like when a business owner coerces an employee to sleep with her.”
Her features paled and she looked vaguely queasy. “I never slept with you, thank the Lord.”
“She didn’t coerce you into anything and you know it, you disgusting piece of vermin,” Sue snapped, and Fletcher blinked at her as if he’d forgotten she was there.
“Every single employee of By-the-Wind could testify about how you were the one constantly putting out the vibe, hitting on her every time she turned around,” she went on. “Sending her flowers, writing poems on the employee bulletin board, taking credit for everybody else’s ideas just so you could convince her you were Mr. Wonderful.”
Anna drew in a deep breath, not looking at all thrilled by the other woman’s defense of her. Instead, her color flared even higher. “Uh, Sue, maybe you should start unpacking those floats I brought so you can make sure none of them shattered in transit.”
The other woman looked reluctant to leave but something in Anna’s gaze must have convinced her to go. With one last glare at Grayson Fletcher, she headed for the stockroom.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Anna turned back to the man. “You are way out of line.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But if, say, I spoke to the local newspaper reporter covering the case, I could probably spin things exactly my way. You wouldn’t look like the sainted victim then, would you?”
Anna opened her mouth to retort, but he cut her off before she could. “Of course, I could always keep my mouth shut, under the right circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
He shrugged. “If I am convicted on these bogus charges, maybe, just maybe, you could see your way clear to testifying on my behalf in the sentencing hearing.”
She narrowed her gaze. “That sounds suspiciously like blackmail.”
“Another ugly word. That’s not it at all. I would just think in the interest of making things right, you would want to tell the judge you’ve had second thoughts and have had time to look at things a little differently,” he said calmly.
She gazed at him for a long time. Just before Max was ready to step forward and kick the guy out of the store, she spoke in a quiet, determined voice.
“Go to hell, Grayson. Of course, I can comfort myself with the thought that by this time next week that’s exactly where you’re going to find yourself—the hell that passes for the Oregon State Penitentiary in Salem.”
The other man’s face turned a mottled red, until any trace of anything that might have been handsome turned ugly and mean. He took another step forward, not even stopping when Conan barked sharply.
“You should have left things alone.” His low, intense voice dripped with rancor. “I would have paid everything back eventually. I was working on a plan. I tried to tell you that, but you were too damn uppity to listen. Well, you’ll listen to me now. I have enough dirt on you that I can ruin you. You harassed me, you assaulted me, you threatened to fire me if I didn’t sleep with you. That’s the story I’m going to be feeding the pretty little local reporter. And then you framed me to hide your own crimes. When my civil suit is done, you’re going to be lucky if I leave you with so much as a comic book. I’ll take this store and your other one and that damn house you love so much. Then where will you be? A stone-cold bitch left with nothing.”
She seemed to freeze, to shrink inside herself. Max, however, did not. He stepped away from the shelves and faced the other man down.
“Okay, time’s up, bastard.”
Anna lifted shocked eyes to his, as if she’d forgotten his presence. Max had dealt with enough of Fletcher’s type in the military that he wasn’t at all surprised to see his bullying bluster fade when confronted with direct challenge.
“Says who?” he asked warily.
“Between me and the dog, I think it’s safe to say we can both make it clear you’ve outstayed your welcome.”
Fletcher looked between Conan and Max, as if trying to figure out which of them posed the bigger threat, then he gav
e a hard laugh, regaining a little of his aplomb. “What are you going to do? Club me with your cast?”
Max gave the same grim, dangerous smile he used on recalcitrant trainees. “Try me.”
The four of them stood in that tableau for several long seconds until Conan barked sharply, as if to add his two cents to the conversation. Fletcher stared at them again then gave Anna one last look of sheer loathing before he turned and stalked out of the store.
She wanted to die.
To walk down to the beach and dig the biggest, deepest hole she could manage and just bury herself inside it like a geoduck clam.
Bad enough that she had been caught unawares by Grayson and had stood there like an idiot letting him rant on and on with his damning—but completely ridiculous—allegations.
How much worse was it that Max had been a party to her disgrace?
Not exactly the best way to seduce a man, to show him unmistakable evidence what an idiot she was. When she remembered how she had actually thought she was coming to care for that piece of dirt, she just about thought she would be sick.
“Well, that was the single most humiliating ten minutes of my life.”
Max moved closer and she alternated between wanting to bury her face in her hands so she didn’t have to look at him and wanting to curl against that hard chest of his.
“You have no reason to feel humiliated. I’m the one who should feel humiliated. I didn’t even get one good swing with my cast.”
His disgruntled tone surprised a shaky laugh out of her. “I’m sure you can still chase him down at the bakery with his half-eaten croissant,” she said. “Or send Conan over to bring him back.”
“That kind of instant problem solving must be why you’re the boss.”
She laughed again, then realized her knees were wobbling. “Excuse me, I need to sit down.”
She plopped down on the nearest couch, still fighting the greasy nausea in her belly, the sheer mortification that she had once been stupid and gullible enough to be attracted to a slimy worm like Grayson Fletcher.
“I told you my life was a mess.”
A Soldier's Secret Page 13
