* * *
Dante stopped his sedan outside Gladys Harbison’s modest ranch and stared in disbelief. The unmistakable pink Caddy was sitting smack in the middle of the driveway, and he had to make a decision.
It was likely that Vivienne Newberry drove her car to visit Gladys—the women were roughly the same age and were probably friends. But what if Taffy was here instead? Was he willing to risk it? Should he come back later when the car was gone?
Dante’s hand began to turn the key in the ignition when he froze.
He couldn’t do it. Knowing Taffy might be on the other side of that door was too much. Too tempting. Besides, they could easily run into one another at any time around here, so wouldn’t it be best to get it over with?
Of course it would. Dante kept telling himself that as he made his way up the driveway toward the small concrete porch. He knocked. His stomach twisted. And when the front door opened, all the breath whooshed from his body.
There she was, exactly as he had remembered, except that her bottomless blue eyes bugged out in alarm and her soft pink lips hung slack in disbelief.
“Hi, Taffy.”
Okay, that was fairly lame, but he’d never been a conversationalist, and besides, there was no time to beat himself up for his lack of originality because Taffy was starting to look a little woozy.
Dante pushed the door wide with his foot and caught her in his arms before she staggered. Taffy was dead weight as he lifted her and pressed her to the front of his body. It was at that moment that a very old woman in way too much spandex came marching their way.
She hissed at him. “You put her down right this instant or I’ll call the sheriff!” The woman who was surely Gladys Harbison pointed a red-nailed finger in his direction and grimaced with wrinkly, overly glossed lips. “Turner Halliday is a personal friend of mine.”
“That makes two of us. Is there a sofa nearby? I think she just fainted.”
“What?” Gladys inspected Taffy’s limp neck, slack face, and dangling arms. “Oh, my heavens! She really has! What did you do to her?” A dyed black brow arched high over one of Gladys’s eyes.
“Nothing. But she would be more comfortable lying down with a cold cloth on her forehead than hanging here in midair like this.”
“Oh! Heavens! Yes, well, follow me.”
Dante averted his eyes from the view of Gladys’s backside crammed into a skintight skirt and her varicose-veined calves shoved into high heels. Wasn’t there a law that prevented women her age from wearing shit like that? If not, there should be. He followed Gladys to the old-fashioned sofa in her living room, and bent forward, gently transferring Taffy to the cushions.
“Don’t you touch her, now,” Gladys warned. “Keep your hands to yourself. I’ll be right back and rest assured I will catch you if you try anything.”
Dante looked up in time to see Gladys walk away, and had to avert his gaze again.
“Uugghh,” Taffy groaned.
Ah, hell. Dante couldn’t help it. Gladys was gone. Taffy was still out of it. And at that instant he realized that if he didn’t kiss her he would regret it the rest of his life. So he lowered his mouth gently to Taffy’s and kissed her. He’d intended for it to be a quick peck, but it didn’t stay that way, and within seconds his hands were cupping her face and his lips were moving all over hers. Then she started to reciprocate.
He heard Gladys approaching, so he pulled his lips away. When he did, he saw that Taffy’s eyes had opened, and her bottomless-blue-beautifulness stared at him in wonder.
“Shh,” he said, smiling. “Here comes Gladys.” Of course the whole turn of events must have Taffy confused as hell. How had he known where to find her? How did he know Gladys? How the hell had this happened? Dante had a few questions himself, but the fact remained that he’d stumbled upon Taffy and they’d have to find a way to deal with it. “Work with me, baby,” Dante whispered with a wink.
“You just move away from her now, young man.” Gladys bent at the waist to tend to Taffy, but didn’t give him enough time to dodge a close encounter of the spandex kind. Dante jumped to his feet and backed away, finding refuge in an armchair across from the sofa. Though Gladys nearly obscured Taffy from his view, he could just make out her long, strawberry-blond hair as it cascaded across a toss pillow. It was obvious that Taffy was trying to look at him, too, but Gladys was having none of it.
“Hold still, Taffy Marie.”
“But—”
“I really should call Vivienne.”
“Oh, God, no! Please don’t do that. I mean, there’s no need. I am perfectly fine.” Taffy tried to push herself to a seated position but Gladys practically shoved her back down. Dante stifled a laugh. “Gladys, please! Give me some room!”
“Well, all right, now. No need to holler at me.” Gladys helped Taffy sit up, and the cloth fell off her forehead into her lap. She stared at Dante in bewilderment.
“Are you all right, miss?” he asked, sounding as professional as possible.
Taffy squeezed her eyes tight for a second then opened them again. “Yeah. I’m fine. But—”
Gladys glared at Dante. “Was this here man inappropriate with you in any way, Taffy Marie?”
Silence.
“If he’s done anything that would compromise you in any fashion, you tell me and Turner’ll have him locked up faster than green grass goes through a goose!”
More silence. Gladys narrowed her eyes. Dante didn’t know how much longer he could keep from laughing, because hell yes he’d compromised her—over and over again, if he recalled correctly. He noticed Taffy’s mouth begin to twitch.
“… because if he’s violated you in any way I will—”
“For heaven’s sake, Gladys! No! I just got light-headed is all, probably from the overly sweet brownie. This nice man must’ve caught me.”
Taffy didn’t dare make eye contact with Dante. He had to admit she showed a great deal of self-restraint. It was a side of her he hadn’t seen during their night together, which had been about everything but restraint.
“Now, I know this is an indelicate question to put to you in front of a stranger, but with you fainting and all, do you think there is any way you could be, you know…?”
“No!” they both answered in unison.
Gladys frowned, looking from Dante to Taffy with growing suspicion. It was time for him to change the subject. “Ms. Harbison,” he said, rising to his feet and displaying his shield. “I’m Special Agent Dante Cabrera with the Drug Enforcement Administration.”
Taffy gasped audibly, but he didn’t look at her.
“You’re whuut?” Gladys snatched his shield out of his hand and inspected it, then she shoved it back at him. “You got a subpoena?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Well, I haven’t changed my mind. I already spoke to that girl and told her no—no, I will not let ya’ll harass Fern!”
Dante nodded. “I completely understand your concerns, but I assure you—”
“Git.” Gladys pointed to the front door. “Go out the way you came and don’t let the screen door slap you in the ass.”
Dante sighed. “Thank you for your time.” He made quick eye contact with Taffy, hoping she’d understand that he’d be waiting for her. “Have an enjoyable evening, ladies.”
Chapter 8
A few minutes later, the bubble-gum-pink, white-walled behemoth rolled to a stop at the state highway intersection, and Dante made sure Taffy saw his sedan before he pulled onto the road. She followed behind, repeatedly glancing in her rearview mirror, either making sure no one saw them together or checking her makeup—no way to know for sure.
But where the hell did Dante think he was taking her? All the way to Asheville to his place? How about to her place, where she lived with her grandfather and great-aunt? That oughta work out real good. A coffee shop? A cheap motel? He started laughing at the absurdity of the situation, realizing he didn’t know where to take Taffy because he didn’t know what she’d wan
t from him or even what he wanted from her.
He only knew he wanted her.
Suddenly, the Coupe de Ville roared past him on the left, and Taffy drove a couple hundred feet then signaled. She made a U-turn, motioning out the open window for him to follow.
Dante found himself laughing. And it occurred to him that the last time he’d laughed like that was in the hotel room in D.C.—the last time he’d been with Tanyalee Marie Newberry.
He followed the Caddy as it climbed along the state highway, winding its way up the mountain. He had no idea where the woman was headed. Hell, maybe she was escorting him to the Tennessee state line, where she’d crack him across the face and call him every name in the book for violating her privacy. He might even deserve such punishment, if this meeting hadn’t been mostly coincidence. After all, how could he have known Taffy was visiting Gladys Harbison and the scruffy daughter of a dead meth cook?
Just then, the pink land yacht turned left onto Randall Road, whatever the hell that was. Seconds later, there was a sudden clearing of trees, and Dante glanced to his right. He wasn’t sure why he was so shocked at the view, since he’d lived in Asheville for several months now, but he sucked in his breath. Golden evening light poured down into the valley, and the Great Smokies rippled in waves of purples, browns, greens, and blues for what looked like forever. He watched a hawk swoop down through the sky, obviously on a mission.
Dante returned his attention to the road, smiling to himself. Brooklyn had thin-crust pizza, street art, Peter Pan Donuts, and more than a hundred and seventy subway stations—but it didn’t have anything like this.
The de Ville signaled and turned left again, and Dante had a flash of understanding. He remembered that one of Taffy’s previous addresses was here on Newberry Lane, but that was when she’d been married to DeCourcy, who was now married to Taffy’s sister, Cheri. These people were fuckin’ nuts, no doubt about it, but his most pressing concern was why in God’s name would she want to come here, of all places?
Oh.
The setting sun reflected in a mirror-still mountain lake. Trees of every kind towered over the setting, and a charming stone house was set back about twenty yards from the water’s edge. A simple but sturdy dock jutted out into the lake, and there were two Adirondack chairs angled perfectly for viewing the sunset. The most striking thing about the place was that it was silent. No cars. No people. Just peace and quiet. And Dante was mesmerized by it.
“What the damn holy hell do you think you’re doing?” Taffy had jumped from the Caddy, braced her high heels in the gravel, and slammed the car door with a flourish. The sound echoed over the water and sent birds screeching into the trees.
She marched over to where Dante sat in the sedan and got right in his face. “Who the hell do you think you are, following me to where I live? You have no right! If I’d wanted you to know who I was and where I was from, I would have given you my phone number and address and told you to stop on by! But no! I did not! So how dare you? I ought to slap you to sleep and then slap you for sleeping!”
Dante reached for the door handle, not exactly sure what she meant by that but figured it had something to do with the fact that she wanted to slap him, then slap him again just for the hell of it. “Let me explain, Taffy.”
“No! You just sit yourself right there and let me finish what I gotta say to you, mister big deee-eeee-aaayee man!”
He dared peek up at her delicate feminine features and those perfect breasts now pressed into the open window. Mother of God, she was beautiful when she was pissed. But Tanyalee Newberry had been beautiful in pretty much every state he’d seen her—dressed, half naked, all naked, nervous, tipsy, frightened, laughing, half asleep, or when she was a sweaty, postsex mess. She was most beautiful of all when his cock was buried inside her and her eyes were locked on his.
Dante cleared his throat. In his most pitiable voice he said, “Let me know when I might have a moment to plead my case.”
“You have no case! There is no excuse for this! Now, git out!” She yanked open the door.
“But you told me to sit.”
“I changed my damn mind!”
Dante slowly rose from the driver’s seat. He stood over her, knowing he should be respectful of her anger, because Taffy had reason to be angry. He wasn’t a particularly sensitive male, but even he knew women didn’t like to be surprised. In general, they preferred that you call ahead.
She balled her fists and shoved them into his chest, knocking Dante against the car. He sighed.
“You lied to me! ‘Oh, I’m Dan Carnes and I own a cheesecake factory.’ Right! Such a load of shee-it!”
He raised a finger to object. “Actually, it was just cheese. No cake.”
She slapped his finger away. “Damn right there’s no cake! There’s not even any cheese! Because you’re a liar and you took advantage of me—a poor woman in unfortunate circumstances! I should press charges against you and get your ass thrown out of the deee-eee-aaye!”
Dante nodded. “I can give you the contact information for the agent in charge of my field office.”
“What? Who? I don’t … I just … Arrrrgggghhhhh!” Taffy bunched her hair in her fingers and stomped her feet onto the pebble road.
Dante took advantage of her temporary speechlessness. “Can I just explain?”
“No! You don’t under—” She swung away from him and hung her head for a moment, then snapped back around. Immediately he saw that her rage had turned to sadness. “What we did was a terrible mistake, all right? It was wrong for me to go to that hotel and have sex with you like I did, wrong in so many ways you wouldn’t even believe it! So, I guess what I’m saying is you had no right to use your law enforcement resources to track me down, like it’s some kind of game. It isn’t—it’s my life you’re messing with. And I don’t appreciate it one damned bit.”
Dante took a step toward her. “Please, Taffy—”
She backed away, throwing her arms in the air in frustration. “Sweet Jesus! My name isn’t Taffy, all right? But I guess you already know that, don’t you?” Tears welled in her eyes. She swiped them away with the back of her hand. “Go on, now. Get out of here. This is just plain awful and I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“I’m sorry. Truly I am.” Dante wanted to touch her, hold her close. It hurt his chest to see her miserable like this. “Tanyalee, I wish we hadn’t run into each other this way. Believe me, I had no idea—”
“Oh, puh-lease! I may be a small-town Southern girl who didn’t remember where your precious Brooklyn was right off the bat, but I am not an idiot!”
Dante frowned.
“Oh yes I did, Dan. I saw how you struggled not to say something horrible to me on that plane, all because I temporarily forgot the geography of a city I’ve never even been to! Did you think people can’t read your face? You think people can’t tell exactly what you’re thinking?”
Dante blinked. Actually, he did think that. He’d been told that a hundred times, even by his mother and Daya. When he was undercover, his life depended on it. Apparently, Taffy had some sort of magical ability to do what no one else could do. The idea of that intrigued him. It bothered him a little, too.
Taffy rubbed her forehead. “Look. It doesn’t matter. I just think it’s a shame you were willing to stoop so low to get to me. Knocking on Gladys’s door the way you did, pretending you needed to talk to poor Fern, who’s just a pathetic little creature.” She glared at him. “And then you had the nerve to try to tell me it was some kind of coincidence? Good Lord! Shameful!”
“Uh—”
“Unfortunately, it was a complete waste of your time. You need to go.”
“Can we sit somewhere and talk?”
She laughed, gesturing to the empty grass. “There’s no place to sit, in case you haven’t noticed, and I don’t want to talk.”
Dante was surprised at himself. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman said he needed to go, but if it had ever happened, he
surely wouldn’t have tried to convince her otherwise. But that was what he was about to do with Taffy. “I owe you an explanation. All I ask is for five minutes of your time.”
She laughed again, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. “You don’t owe me anything, Agent … what was it?”
“Cabrera. Dante Cabrera.”
Taffy shook her head and raised her eyes to the sky.
Dante dared to take another step toward her, and she didn’t back away this time. “Five minutes, Tanyalee. Please.”
When she lowered her gaze once more, she was blinking back tears. “You shouldn’t have come here, Dante Cabrera.”
“Five minutes. Then I’ll go.” He gently cupped her elbow in his palm. “Let’s go sit on the deck chairs. This place is beautiful.”
Taffy laughed again. “I didn’t bring you out here to watch the damned sunset.”
“Why did you, then?”
She sighed deeply. “This place belongs to my sister and her husband and they’re on their honeymoon. I figured I could cuss your ass out without an audience.”
Dante nodded. “I see. Come on, then.” He carefully guided Taffy toward the dock, but she pulled away.
“I need to keep you in sight at all times.” She gestured for him to walk ahead. “Go.”
“You gonna push me in the water?” Dante could hear the tap of her sandals against the wooden dock behind him.
“No. Unless you can’t swim. Can you swim?”
“Of course I can.”
“Then I’ll just have to strangle you on dry land.”
He laughed softly. “You’ve assaulted an officer once already today, so I wouldn’t push it if I were you, Miss Newberry.” Dante sank down into one of the Adirondack chairs and waited for Taffy to take her seat. When she did, the incredibly sensual and female scent he remembered wafted through the air, into his nostrils, and penetrated the primordial part of his brain. He had to close his eyes and let it settle in for a moment.
Stealing Taffy Page 10
