Tall Tales and Wedding Veils

by Jane Graves

  When he came through the door, she was sitting on the sofa wearing a horrible terry-cloth robe and equally horrible pink slippers with most of the fuzz worn off them. Her hair was wet, as if she’d just gotten out of the shower. The TV was tuned to some late-night show only insomniacs watched. She grabbed the remote, clicked it off, then turned and gave him a look that could have melted stone.

  And what was that he smelled? Cleaning products? God. He should have known she’d take out her anger on dirt.

  He shut the door behind him and locked it, then slowly turned back to face her angry scowl, heaving a silent sigh. “You cleaned something just to piss me off, didn’t you?”

  “I scrubbed the top of the refrigerator. Dusted the windowsills. Vacuumed under the sofa.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah. I sterilized your toothbrush.”

  “You what?”

  “That thing is horrible. You should have bought a new one months ago.”

  “You sterilized it?”

  Her frigid stare deepened. “It was very cathartic.”

  “It’s going to taste like disinfectant, isn’t it?”

  “If I’m lucky.”

  Okay. He deserved that. This was one woman he intended never to piss off again, or she’d starch his underwear and scrub the numbers off his computer keyboard.

  Tony could feel her wheels turning as she geared up to let him have it. He held up his palm to silence her, then sat down. He put his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together in front of him. He stared down at them for a moment, then slowly turned his gaze to meet hers.

  “I acted like an ungrateful bastard tonight, didn’t I?”

  She blinked those big blue eyes, her gears grinding down a little. “Yes. You did. I worked my ass off all evening for you.”

  “I know you did.”

  “And that was how you thanked me?”

  “You’re right. I was a real jerk.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  “The worst.”

  “You’re right.”

  “On a scale of one to ten—”

  “Damn it, will you stop telling yourself off? That’s my job.”

  He sat up and thunked his head against the back of the sofa. “One more thing I can’t do right. Apologize.”

  She looked at him skeptically. “So this is an apology?”

  “It’s late. I’m tired. It’s the best I can do. But I’ll go at it again tomorrow if you want me to.”

  “No. It’ll do.” She twisted her mouth with irritation. “But you could have at least let me vent a little first.”

  “Go ahead,” he said, closing his eyes. “Vent. I deserve it.”

  “Well, I can’t do it now. Not after you’ve already beat yourself up. How much satisfaction would I get out of that?” She settled back against the sofa. “Now, are you going to tell me why you were an ungrateful bastard?”

  He hated having to say it, but she deserved an explanation. “You had no problem handling things tonight, did you?”

  She paused. “Well, I wouldn’t say no problem—”

  “Everything ran perfectly after you showed up.”

  “There were glitches—”

  “Which you smoothed over.”

  “There was that credit card mess.”

  “Which you took care of.”

  “Well, yeah, but—”

  “Did you have to be so damned competent?”

  She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Competence is a problem?”

  “When you have it and I don’t, then yeah. It’s a problem.”

  She looked astonished. “So that’s why you acted that way? Because I was running the place better than you could?”

  He grimaced, hating the sound of that.

  “You felt threatened?”

  “Stop with the psychobabble. You sound like Dr. Phil.”

  She sat back with a disbelieving stare. “Why didn’t you just tell me how you felt instead of biting my head off?”

  “Oh, right. How many men do you know who will walk up to a woman and say, ‘Do you think we could have a dialogue? I’d like to talk about my feelings’?” Tony rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, then let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe my father was right.”

  “Your father?”

  “Yeah. The man was a walking cliché. You know, the one who tells his son he’ll never amount to anything.”

  Heather drew back. “That’s terrible!”

  “Nah. Not really. I figure if I fail, I’ll have lived up to his expectations.”

  “No. You’re not going to fail at this.”

  “Don’t tell my father that. It’ll break his heart.”

  “Well, it’ll just have to get broken. You were born to run a place like McMillan’s.”

  “After tonight, I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Listen to me, Tony. The problems you had tonight aren’t really problems. Anybody can learn how to deal with that stuff. But you’ve got something going for you that most people don’t.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A neighborhood bar is all about the atmosphere. The hospitality. The comfortable feeling people get when they go there. You know how to relate to people. Just keep giving them that gorgeous smile, and you’ve got it made.”

  He gave her a sidelong glance. “So you think I have a gorgeous smile?”

  “Of course you do. It goes hand in hand with your enormous ego.”

  “So all I have to do is give everybody a big smile, and I’ll be a huge success?”

  “No. You’ll be a huge success by working your ass off. The smile is just insurance.”

  Hard is good. It means whatever you’re going after is worth it. But he was starting to realize that going after it all by himself might be a tough thing to do.

  “How would you like to be my temporary assistant manager on the night shift?” he asked her. “Just until Jamie gets back. I’ll pay you, of course.”

  He blurted out the offer before he really thought about it, and judging from the look on Heather’s face, it was the wrong thing to say. She probably made a lot of money as a CPA, and he was offering her nothing but the opportunity to work herself silly on a second job that paid peanuts.

  “Never mind,” he said. “That’s dumb. It’s just that . . .” He exhaled. “I need somebody around who knows what they’re doing. Just until I can figure out what I’m doing.”

  “Nope. What you need to do is make Kayla your assistant manager. She’s sharp and dependable and gets along with everyone. What you need from me is to be a consultant who also waits tables if necessary.”

  “Okay.”

  “But I don’t want you to pay me.”

  “I can’t let you work for nothing.”

  “Don’t argue. If you paid me what I’m worth, you couldn’t afford me.”

  After what he’d seen tonight, he knew just how true that was.

  “Here’s another recommendation. You need to have a grand opening.”

  “But the place is already open.”

  “Reopening, then. To let people know it’s under new management and that it has a new name.”

  “New name?”

  “I think it’s time McMillan’s became McCaffrey’s.”

  Tony had to admit he liked the sound of that. He hadn’t actually decided to put his name on the place, but he had thought about it, and Heather’s optimism was contagious.

  “Maybe so,” he said.

  “Definitely so. Order a sign, and we’ll unveil it at the grand opening. We’ll advertise. The bigger the crowd, the better, and this time we’ll be ready for them. I’ll write your press release. And send the invitations. We can brainstorm some food and drink specials. If we do it right, we’ll have half the people in town there. What do you think about that?”

  Tony’s head was spinning. “I think Hurricane Heather just swept through.”

  “I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

 
“You make it all sound so simple.”

  “It is.”

  Wrong. If it was that simple, he’d have had all that stuff in motion already. Running a bar and grill was harder than he’d ever thought it would be, but somehow, with Heather helping him, it didn’t seem nearly as insurmountable.

  Heather suppressed a yawn, then scooted to the edge of the sofa. “It’s late. I’m going to bed.”

  “Yeah. I’m not far behind.”

  Then he noticed her hair. It was still damp from the shower, but for the first time, he saw that where it had always been straight and regimented before, it was fluffing into a zigzagging cascade of curls that spilled over her shoulders and down her back.

  Before she could stand, he picked up a strand. “Hmm. What’s going on here?”

  She shuddered away from him and tried to smooth it back into place.

  “Is this what it’s really like?” he asked. “Curly?”

  Heather looked disgusted. “Curly is the kind word for it.”

  “So you usually straighten it?”

  “Every morning of my life.”

  “Why?”

  “Are you kidding me? Without my flatiron, I look like a poodle.”

  Tony shook his head. “Will you stop being so uptight?”

  She frowned. “It’s not uptight to want straight hair.”

  “But you want everything in your life straight. And neat. And perfect.”

  “Contrary to what you believe, that’s not a personality defect.”

  “No, it’s not. But it does keep you from having fun. Mess yourself up a little, Heather. Walk in the rain. Roll in the mud. Sing in the shower.” He grinned. “Eat a Twinkie.”

  “And maybe stick my head out the sunroof of a limo?”

  “Say the word, and I’ll rent another one.”

  She shook her head. “You really are crazy.”

  “So you’ve told me. But I’m not sure you really hate that.”

  “What would it take to convince you?”

  “Now that I’ve seen this,” he said, nodding toward her hair, “nothing will convince me.”

  “Because my hair’s crazy, you think deep down the rest of me is, too?”

  “Just makes me wonder what else you’re hiding.”

  And he meant that. After tonight, he realized there was a lot more to Heather than met the eye. And as she stared back at him, those blue eyes shimmering like the surface of an ice-cold martini, Tony felt something trip inside him, an awareness he hadn’t felt before.

  It wasn’t as if she’d suddenly turned beautiful. But as he looked at her cheeks still flushed pink from the shower, then shifted his gaze to the pale, creamy skin along the side of her neck that looked so warm and tantalizing, he found himself reevaluating his concept of beautiful.

  “Tony,” Heather said. “You’re staring.”

  He brought his gaze back up to meet hers. “I’m just admiring my wife.”

  “Your wife doesn’t have anything worth admiring.”

  “Why doesn’t she let her husband be the judge of that?”

  Heather’s heart started to beat faster. “It’s late. I need to go to bed.”

  She tried to rise from the sofa, but Tony took hold of her wrist. “Tell you what, sweetheart. You’re helping me out, so I’m going to help you out.”

  “What?”

  “You show me how to make my business a success,” he said, leaning in and emphasizing every word, “and I’ll show you how to have more fun than you’ve ever had in your life.”

  The low, seductive sound of his voice was like a soft melody to Heather’s ears, sending vibes of pure pleasure pulsing along every nerve.

  He’s seducing you.

  Impossible to believe, but she’d never been one to draw erroneous conclusions when the data was right out there in front of her. The moment that thought popped into her head, her senses came alive with anticipation, even as she knew she had no intention of getting anywhere near a bed with him.

  When he spoke again, his voice was a near-whisper. “I was thinking about the limousine.”

  Flashback. Mouths, hands, kissing, touching . . . “What about it?”

  “There’s no reason we can’t pick up where we left off that night.”

  He hooked his finger around a strand of her hair, easing it back over her shoulder. Then he dipped his head, leaned in, and kissed her neck. She was so stunned, she couldn’t move. Stop him. Right now. Nothing good can come of this.

  But for some reason, she sat there, frozen in place, as his lips moved along her neck, remembering how it had felt before. But it was even better now because she wasn’t anesthetized with champagne. He moved his lips next to her ear, and she could feel his hot breath as he spoke.

  “You have no idea how much I wanted to make love to you. Right there in the backseat of that limousine.”

  “I wouldn’t have let you,” she said, a little breathless. “I don’t do that sort of thing.”

  “Heather, you were so hot for me I’m surprised you didn’t tear the clothes right off my body.”

  And if this goes on, he’s going to tear the clothes right off yours.

  Up to now, the memory of that limousine ride had been hazy and out of focus, but now she remembered exactly what it had felt like. But this was all wrong. Getting up close and personal with Tony was a recipe for disaster. Hadn’t that been proven already?

  But maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe things had changed. Maybe she’d made an impression on him. Maybe after tonight, he finally saw the value in a woman who had something going for her besides scanty clothes on a model-thin body. Maybe . . .

  But then the words faded from her mind, and she couldn’t think at all.

  He breathed deeply and rested his hand on her thigh, easing it beneath the tail of her T-shirt. The higher it went, the more her heart pounded in anticipation. He kissed his way along her jaw, his lips blazing a slow but scorching trail to her mouth.

  “For the next month,” he murmured, “I can’t see other women, and you can’t see other men. It’s just you and me. What do you say we make the most of it?”

  Without waiting for her answer, he kissed her. Ahhh, now she remembered. She remembered exactly what it had felt like when he’d kissed her in the back of that limousine. God, this man was good.

  But just as her mind was going blank with satisfaction, a few brain cells popped up again. What was that he’d said? That neither of them could have sex with anyone else, so they might as well do it with each other?

  As she realized the truth of the situation, she felt a surge of humiliation. She pulled away from him and pressed her palm to his chest.

  “Stop.”

  He froze. “What’s the matter?”

  She looked him right in the eye. “You’re stuck being celibate for the next several weeks. I know that’s painful for you. But I’m not letting you come after me just because every other woman is off-limits.”

  She rose and started for her bedroom, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to sit again. “Wait a minute. Do you really think that’s all this is about?”

  “Oh, please. Line up three of your waitresses and me. Which one would you pick?”

  “Why do you put yourself down so much?”

  “I’m not putting myself down. I have qualities those women will never have. I’m just not the kind of woman that appeals to you, so for you to come on to me like this means you just want to get laid. But I’m sorry. I don’t do casual sex.”

  “Have you considered the possibility that I might actually be attracted to you?”

  “Oh, give me a break. I must have been in McMillan’s dozens of times when you were there. If you were going to be attracted to me, it would have happened by now.”

  “I’m there to have a good time. I notice women who like to laugh and watch sports and play pool. I don’t tend to notice the ones who never get up out of a booth, sit down at the bar, and say hello.”

  “Aren’t you being a little
disingenuous? If a perfect ten walked through the door and sat in a booth by the wall, your radar would pick her up so fast it would make her head spin.”

  “That’s a fair assessment.” He eased closer to her. “But just because I didn’t notice you before doesn’t mean I’m not attracted to you now.”

  “Fine. Let’s assume that’s true. It still doesn’t matter, because I’m not attracted to you.”

  “Yeah? What about that night in the limousine?”

  “I was drunk.”

  “You can’t hide the way you feel.” He put his palm against her face. “Your cheeks are on fire.”

  She shuddered away from him. “Don’t do that.”

  “Don’t lie. You want me as much as I want you.”

  “No. I told you in the beginning this wasn’t going to happen.”

  “But that was then,” he said. “This is now. I like you, Heather. More all the time. I just don’t see what’s wrong with the two of us being together.”

  His gaze never wavered. She searched his face for insincerity and didn’t see even a trace of it. But that didn’t mean his motives were any purer than before.

  “You made it pretty clear where you’re coming from, Tony. We can’t sleep with anybody else, so we might as well sleep with each other. Doesn’t sound to me as if anything’s changed.” She stood up. “I’ll help you out at the bar. But all this other stuff has to stop.”

  “Heather—”

  “Good night, Tony.”

  Heather went into her bedroom and shut the door, then walked straight into the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror.

  Tony was right. Her cheeks were strawberry red.

  She splashed cold water on her face and patted it dry with a towel, wishing her heart would slow down.

  He was good. He was so good he could gear a seduction plan to any situation. She had practically been able to feel his brain working. Let’s see . . . I’m stuck married to an unattractive woman for a month. What does she want to hear so I can get her into bed?

  This was something she simply hadn’t anticipated.

  Have you considered the possibility that I might actually be attracted to you?

  The sad thing was that for a split second, she’d believed him. She’d looked into those gorgeous green eyes and believed every single word he was saying.

  Then she’d come to her senses.