She nodded.
A horrifying thought suddenly struck him. “Did I hurt you?”
“Oh, heavens, no!” She placed her palm on his forearm and brushed her finger across his skin.
“I am growing very fond of you, Dante.”
He felt a knot release in his gut. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that because I feel the same.”
“But before we go any further, there’s still a few things you should know.”
Dante climbed over her and plopped down at her side. “Like what?”
“You know that I’ve spent the last couple weeks making my amends, right? I should—”
“You don’t have to tell me a damn thing, Tanyalee.”
Her head whipped around. She stared at him with that bottomless blue beautifulness he had grown so attached to. “The inventory is for you and the amends are for those you’ve harmed. You don’t owe me anything.”
“But I’ve hurt people.”
“I have, too.”
“Badly.”
“Me, too.”
“I have a large assortment of character flaws.”
He did his best not to chuckle, but good God! Tanyalee was too cute! “Yeah, well, so do I. So does everybody.”
She shook her head. “You’re not taking me seriously, Dante. This is important. I’m trying to tell you that some of the things I’ve done are so awful that you might not want to be involved with me.”
“Too late. I’m already involved.” He smiled at her. “C’mere.” Dante wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pressed her close to his side. He kissed the top of her head, giving some thought to the words he would say next. It was obvious she was worried.
“Tanyalee, spending time with a woman who’s made mistakes and wants to change is a whole lot more appealing to me than being with a woman who’s only lived on the surface, you know, skated right over the difficult crap that hides in the deep.”
He heard her sigh.
“You are a complex woman. You’re courageous. You’re interesting and smart. You have a slightly skewed perspective on things that I enjoy immensely.”
She giggled into his chest.
“And what I like about you most of all is that you try so damn hard—you’re really pushing to be the best version of yourself, and that makes you more beautiful to me than you can imagine.”
She stayed silent.
“Now, I’m an open book. Whatever you want to know I’ll tell you, as long as it doesn’t compromise an investigation or endanger anyone’s life.”
“Thank you.” Dante could almost hear the gears shifting in her brain. “So when you claimed you couldn’t tell me what you did for a living—or even tell me why you couldn’t tell me—that was just a bunch of nonsense?”
“That was foreplay, baby.”
She laughed, her shoulders shaking below his touch. Dante brushed his fingers down her silky upper arm and waited for her to grow still. “You know, I never want you to feel pressured to reveal anything to me, Tanyalee. You can tell me some of it, all of it, or none of it. You can tell me now, or tomorrow, or a year from tomorrow. I don’t care. Who you are right now is the only thing that matters to me.”
He felt her peel herself from his side. She sat up and turned toward him, her hair all messy, her blue eyes filled with astonishment. “Dante Cabrera.” She batted her eyelashes. “That was the single most romantic thing any man has ever said to me … well, that didn’t include the words ‘unlimited’ and ‘credit card.’”
Dante laughed, and while he was laughing, he had the most irresponsible urge to say “I love you, Tanyalee Marie Newberry. God, how I love you!”—just blurt it out like a crazy man. But he stopped himself. He knew an outburst like that would not only be insane but irresponsible.
What did he know about love? Dante had received certification in a variety of disciplines—automatic weapons, cybersecurity, and emergency first-aid triage, to name just a few—but not love. What if he was wrong?
It was better to keep his mouth shut for other reasons, as well. Not only was a transfer still a possibility, O’Connor had already let him know he was in violation of the DEA fraternization policy.
Tanyalee gave him a playful smack on the shoulder. “You find me funny?”
“I find you hilarious, Pink Taffy.” Dante grabbed her and rolled with her until she was on top of him. And he knew that love or not, he intended to enjoy the hell out of this woman.
For as long as fate would allow.
* * *
Tanyalee woke up, her eyes roaming around Dante’s bedroom, now lit with morning sun. She was almost afraid to turn her head—was this a hallucination? Had she just had another dream of that wild night in Washington, or had she relived it?
She turned just enough to get confirmation that it was all real. A pair of dark, sensual eyes were there waiting for her, alert and mischievous, crinkled up at the corners. A pair of generous wine-red lips quivered with the beginnings of a smile.
They stayed like that, not touching, just looking, and Tanyalee had to struggle to catch her breath. This had happened before, on several occasions. All she had to do was look at Dante and she’d have trouble breathing. Or thinking. Or standing.
Just then, Dante unleashed his smile, and a wave of certainty rushed through her. Lord have mercy! It was the most ridiculous thing ever, but she found herself a hairsbreadth away from telling Dante she was in love with him. Which would be ridiculous, of course.
“I … Dante…?”
“Hmm-mmm?”
“I think I…”
Tanyalee shot straight up in bed, suddenly terrified—she’d almost said the words out loud! Dropping her face in her hands, she took a second to jump-start her brain. She needed to finish that sentence some other way. Because she couldn’t be in love! The word had practically lost all meaning for her through the years—how many times had she told a man she loved him knowing it wasn’t true?
She gasped. “What time is it?”
Dante reached behind him for his phone. “Ten fifteen. Why?”
“Shoot!” Tanyalee had completely forgotten about the bowl-a-thon! “I’ve got to grab the team shirts from the bakery, then go collect Fern by noon.”
“Oh.” Dante sat up, too. “So you can’t stay for breakfast?”
“I would love to, Dante, and that is so sweet of you, but I just can’t. Would you mind if I take a quick shower?”
“Only if I’m allowed to shower with you.”
No, no, no. The second we get in that shower together I will tell you I’m in love with you.
“Can we do that another time?” Tanyalee kissed his lips, feeling the temptation … she pulled herself away.
“There are clean towels in the cabinet. Help yourself to anything you need. I’ll make us some coffee.”
“That would be perfectly lovely, thank you.”
She let herself lounge in bed while Dante got up. As he walked across the room, she enjoyed the play of muscles in his bottom, thighs, and back. As he opened the chest of drawers, she nearly swooned at the strength of his shoulders and arms. As he yanked up a pair of baggy athletic shorts, the muscles in his abdomen rippled. Dante’s body was a graceful symphony of olive skin, fluid strength, and solid bone. He caught her looking at him and leaned in for a kiss. “See you in a few,” he said, and wandered into the hallway.
SweetbabyJesus! She flopped back on the bed. Am I in love?
Once she recovered, Tanyalee made quick work of a shower, found all the various pieces of clothing she’d worn to the grand opening the day before—her panties were on the windowsill, of all places—and smoothed her hair into a ponytail holder she’d located in her bag. Thankfully, she found her travel-sized toothbrush as well, but no toothpaste, and she wandered back into the bathroom to use some of Dante’s. Though she didn’t like to snoop, the toothpaste was not on the counter. So she opened the medicine cabinet. Not there. She opened three drawers to the left of the sink. Not there, eith
er. She opened the top drawer on the right and there it was. And as she reached in, her eye caught a flash of something silver and shiny that was shoved to the back of the drawer. Even before she touched it she was hit by a jolt of recognition.
Her bracelet.
It was stored inside a small cardboard box without a lid, and tucked beneath the piece of jewelry was her own handwriting. He’d kept the note, too? Tanyalee’s mind and heart exploded in a jumble of questions. Why had Dante kept it? Had their night in Washington meant as much to him as it did to her? Was there a chance he felt the same way she did?
She shoved the box back to its hiding place as soon as she heard his footsteps approaching, and after sharing a quick cup of coffee with him she knew she should be going.
Dante walked her to the door. He gently cupped her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers. If kisses could have flavors, Tanyalee decided this one tasted like a question—a big one. But when their eyes met, Dante only smiled.
“Oh!” Tanyalee gasped. “I nearly forgot! Do you need a ride to the bakery? Did you leave your car there last night?”
Dante shook his head. “Nope. I arrived with O’Connor and planned on leaving with you.”
Tanyalee clicked her tongue in mock disapproval. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you, Agent Cabrera?”
“I am.”
“Hmm. Well, I should go.”
“Wait.” Dante touched her upper arm. “I just need to ask you one more thing.”
“What?”
“Have you been thoroughly distracted?”
Tanyalee laughed. “I’m so distracted that I might have trouble bowling today.”
He tipped his head, his smile lingering. “So I’ll see you later, then.”
“At two-thirty on the dot. Please don’t be late.” She was about to turn when he reached for her hand.
“Are you free at all this coming week?”
“Well, now, let me think.” She tapped her finger to her lips. “I believe I am, but only Monday through Sunday.”
“Then pencil me in.”
Chapter 19
Tanyalee slipped her key in the back door of the bakery and automatically reached for the light. It was already on.
Soft giggles emanated from the kitchen and floated down the hallway, followed by murmuring voices—female voices.
She took a tentative step inside and moved close enough to overhear part of a conversation.
“Believe me—it’s different after you’re married. The outside trappings might look the same—the same house, job, schedules—but there’s a fundamental shift.”
That was most definitely Cheri speaking.
“How do you mean?”
That voice belonged to Candy.
“Well, when J.J. became my husband…”
Oh, no! All I intend to do is pick up the bowling shirts! I can’t stand here and listen to this!
“… my love for him blossomed. It’s hard to explain, but almost overnight it was deeper, richer somehow, maybe because it had become permanent.”
Tanyalee slammed the back door closed and made a production of clomping her way down the hall. She headed directly to the closet, grabbed the box of shirts, and turned around to leave, giving a seemingly random glance toward the kitchen. Cheri and Candy were seated next to each other at the large stainless steel island, their heads nearly touching, a picked-over poppy-seed muffin on a little plate between them.
Everything about them screamed that they were sisters of the heart. It was a lovely thing to see, but it cut just the same. Tanyalee felt her eyes sting—the bond between Cheri and Candy was old, solid, and would last until death parted them.
Tanyalee was an intruder.
“Tanyalee!” Cheri smiled broadly, straightening. “Good morning!”
“Hey, come on in,” Candy said. “We’re having a kaffeeklatsch. Want to join us?”
“Oh!” Tanyalee’s feet remained frozen in the doorway. Did she want to? Of course. But could she? Should she? Certainly, anything she had to say about married life, love, J.J. DeCourcy, or permanence would add nothing to their giggly heart-to-heart.
“Thank you so much,” Tanyalee said sweetly. “But I just stopped by to pick up the shirts.” She raised the cardboard box to chest level, her car keys jingling. “I need to pick up Fern and get there a little early.”
The smiles they gave Tanyalee were pleasant enough, but there was a curious anticipation frozen on both their faces. When Candy took a sip from her coffee cup she slid a sideways glance to Cheri, who cleared her throat.
“So,” she said cheerfully. “Did you have a good night?”
Tanyalee shrugged. “Yes, and you?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“So, um…” Candy let her gaze travel up and down Tanyalee’s body. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you two meet?”
Tanyalee was wearing the one-of-a-kind watermelon-pink retro cocktail dress she’d worn at the grand opening, which had been yesterday, which meant she had spent the night away from home. Her first instinct was to explain it away—“it’s merely a similar watermelon-pink retro cocktail, not the exact same one”—but that would be a lie, and a pitiful one, to boot. Tanyalee had promised herself there would be no more lying.
She shuffled over to the kitchen island as if in a daze, dropping the box of shirts on the island. “I met Dante Cabrera on the plane coming back from Arizona,” she said, hearing the turmoil in her own voice. “How do you know when it’s really love?”
“Take my stool.” Cheri dragged it over to Tanyalee and helped her on.
“I’ll get you some coffee,” Candy said. She was back in a flash.
A half hour later, Candy and Cheri sat in stunned silence, the muffin long forgotten and the coffee cold. Tanyalee had omitted most of the more torrid details—she would never again be a woman who would kiss and tell. But she figured Cheri and Candy had enough information to go on.
“I need a cold shower,” Cheri said.
“I need a fire extinguisher,” Candy said.
“I know exactly what you mean,” Tanyalee said.
* * *
Gateway Bowl hadn’t changed a bit since Tanyalee and Cheri’s high school years. Though Tanyalee hadn’t had the slightest interest in the sport itself, she had many fond memories of the laser-light bowling parties after nine P.M. every Friday and Saturday, when the whole place would swirl with red and purple beams and thump with the best pop music the last bit of the twentieth century had to offer.
Arriving in the harsh light of day on a Sunday afternoon many years later, Tanyalee and Fern stepped into a bowling-alley time capsule. Ancient arcade games clanged and beeped against the walls, half-dead fluorescent lighting flashed from the stained ceiling tiles, and miles of hideous brown and mustard-yellow industrial carpeting stretched out beneath their feet. Tanyalee learned the bowling alley had managed to avoid modernization all around when she was given rental shoes older than she was, and a large sheet of scoring paper and a few stubby pencils to keep score.
The annual Cataloochee County Girls Club bowl-a-thon was set to begin in a half hour. Fern’s team had been assigned lanes 7 and 8, and Viv had already settled herself at the scoring desk, her risky slush hidden inside a plastic water bottle and parked innocently in the cup holder. She was a vision in pink, from her heart-bedazzled sun visor to her dotted-swiss blouse to her dyed-to-sort-of-match Keds. From her throne smack in the middle of the semicircle of plastic orange chairs bolted to the wood plank floor, Viv could keep tabs on everyone.
Tanyalee went to find a bowling ball, eventually choosing a lightweight model in a sparkly purple. On her way back to her team she watched a steady stream of bowlers and their supporters arrive. A sizable audience was forming at observation tables and chairs along the edge of the main floor, a spot that provided a bird’s-eye view of the action and easy access to the snack bar. Granddaddy Garland was already munching on a combo order of onion rings and home fries while remind
ing Aunt Viv not to cheat.
According to the bowl-a-thon rules and regulations, which Tanyalee had read carefully, each team was required to have eight people, four men and four women, one of which had to be a Girls Club member. Candy Pants Bakery was the official sponsor of Fern’s team, not only buying the shirts but also pledging one penny per point. At the end of the fund-raising event, two trophies would be awarded—one to the team with the highest cumulative score and one to the team that had raised the most money.
“We’re gonna win both!” Fern had announced.
The team T-shirts were hot pink with the Candy Pants Bakery logo on the back. In honor of the generous sponsorship, Fern had decided to christen the team “Sugar & Strikes,” which Viv declared was the “most darling name ever in the history of bowling.”
As Tanyalee returned with her ball, she watched the male members of their team holding up their shirts with expressions of disdain. Dante, Turner, and Tater Wayne pulled theirs on without much fuss. Not so for Dante’s new coworker, Westley Hinman.
“I’m wearing a tampon box,” he muttered.
Turner laughed. “Don’t blame Candy. She was too busy with the grand opening to order the shirts.”
“That was Viv’s doing, in case y’all couldn’t guess.” Garland waved a home fry as he spoke from the observation level. “Just wear it, son. It ain’t worth the fuss.”
Tater ran his hand down the front of his team shirt with pride. “Kelly says real men shouldn’t have a problem wearin’ pink.”
Dante and Turner laughed at that, but Westley looked thoroughly confused. “Kelly? Our Kelly? As in ‘Special Agent in Charge Kelly O’Connor’?”
Tater nodded earnestly, pointing to her as she prepared to claim the seat next to Garland. “She’s real supportive. I had to stop her from painting half her face pink today.”
“Lookin’ good, boys!” Kelly circled her fist above her head. “Whoop! Whoop!”
“Isn’t she the cutest thing?” Tater blew her a kiss.
Tanyalee saw Westley tug Dante aside and whisper, “This town does some freaky shit to people.”
Dante’s response made Tanyalee smile. “You don’t know the half of it, man.”
Stealing Taffy Page 24
