by Renee Roszel
Simmering hysteria edged toward the surface again, and she laughed aloud. How foolish could she be? Any sensitivity she thought she saw in his eyes was part of his act. “I guess all really successful playboys have that gift. For a minute there, you even had me going!” She ground her teeth, determined to mean what she was about to say. “And I can’t stand you.”
“But you like me better than my lawyer, right?”
She didn’t see how that could possibly matter, but she saw no reason to deny it. “It’s a toss-up, but yes, I suppose I do—barely.”
His response was a mirthless chuckle. “Thanks,” he said, his tone edged with cynicism. “Is there an antivenom for that poison dart, or do I just stand here until everything goes black?”
“Stand wherever you please! I don’t care!” The wrought-up quiver in her voice hinted broadly that she wasn’t as indifferent as she wanted to be.
Headlights hit them straight-on as a car turned off the blacktop road beyond the border of evergreens. It approached along Miz Witty’s long, meandering drive. Mary squinted as the vehicle crept forward, its high beams lighting up landscaped berms, splashing ghostly plantings with brief bursts of color. The sound of tires crunching over gravel seemed over-loud, magnified in the stillness. “Who in the world…” Mary wondered aloud, but let the sentence drop.
“Maybe somebody forgot something.”
Mary supposed that was possible. “How important could it be for them to come back for it now?”
“Isn’t it lucky we’re up?” he muttered, derisively.
She straightened, removing one supporting hand from the railing to shade her eyes. “That’s one way of putting it.”
The car pulled to a stop beside Bonn’s rental, the headlights blessedly extinguished along with the engine. Once again, the world was dark and quiet, but something in the cosmos had lurched out of alignment. What it was, Mary couldn’t quite put her finger on.
The driver’s side door of the newcomer’s car opened and someone got out. Though Mary’s night vision had been impaired by the headlights’ glare, she wasn’t kept in suspense long about what sex their late-night visitor was.
“Well, well,” a female voice called, “I never expected a welcoming committee at two-thirty in the morning.”
The stranger approached the front steps. Mary could see her better. She was tall, slender and around thirty, in a trim, light-colored business suit. Her hair was short and equally light-colored. As she mounted the steps, she waved and smiled—at Bonn. Her face had become visible enough in the moon’s glow to reveal exceptional beauty.
Mary clutched the rail. Her adrenaline level shot up in a fight or flight response. Bewildered and disconcerted, she couldn’t imagine why she felt a need to do both?
“Bonn, baby!” The striking female extended her arms as though she anticipated being swept into his embrace. “Surprise, surprise!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
TAGGART couldn’t believe his eyes. Lee Stanton stepped onto the porch and strutted toward him as though she expected him to react with a lusty lunge at her. Blast it! That’s all he needed, an ex-lover with no intention of remaining an ex, showing up now!
At least she’d remembered to call him Bonn.
Not surprisingly, she waltzed up to him, slid her arms about his neck and planted a kiss on his lips. Not a “Hi-it’s-nice-to-see-you” kiss, but an “I’m-hot-for-you-where’s-the-bed?” kiss. He rested his hands on her upper arms, pressing her away. “Hello, Lee.” Indicating Mary, who finally turned to face him, he said, “Meet Mary O’Mara, Miz Witty’s care-giver. Mary, this is Lee Stanton. A—friend from Boston.”
Unsmiling, Mary shifted her gaze from Taggart to the clinging woman. “How do you do, Miss Stanton,” she said, without inflection.
Lee didn’t completely release Taggart’s neck, but loosened her grasp enough to shift around to look at Mary. “Oh—hello, there,” she said.
Taggart could tell Lee found Mary insignificant. Lee came from wealth and privilege. The trait he disliked most about her was her superior attitude when she addressed people she felt were beneath her, which included all household staffers, office clerks, paralegals. Even junior partners in the law firm. “You will excuse us,” she said with a low, suggestive laugh. “But it’s been several days since I’ve seen—Bonn.”
Taggart couldn’t help watching Mary’s face. Her features carried a startling lack of information. The point of her tongue slowly moistened her lower lip and Taggart felt a rush of heat infuse his body. The night breeze told him his forehead had broken out in a sweat. How could she do that? Lee just kissed him, and he felt nothing. But watching Mary O’Mara moisten her lip with the scant tip of her tongue, his skin felt singed and he struggled for breath like a man suffering from smoke inhalation.
Drawing her lips in a tight smile, Mary planted her fists on her hips. “Don’t mind me. I’m getting used to seeing women hang on him like gold chains.”
“Really?” Lee eyed him with skepticism. He wasn’t surprised she found that remark hard to believe. After all, she knew Taggart for the conservative workaholic he was. She’d been with the law firm of Baxter, Barker and Lancaster for four years before she’d moved up to full partner three years ago. Lee was well aware Taggart worked twelve hour days and had little time to meet women, let alone have affairs with them. His lack of free time had undoubtedly been the major reason he’d begun the affair with her.
It had been a mistake he was still paying for.
“Well, well, Bonn, I leave you alone for a few days and you’ve already spun your bad-boy web over all the Rocky Mountain maidens?”
Dragging his gaze from Mary, he frowned at Lee. “Not all of them.”
“Tell me, Mr. Wittering,” Mary asked, her tone scornful. “Do you kiss every female you meet?”
He experienced a stab in his gut, unsure why. Looking wearily from one woman to the other, he felt like a criminal, condemned for a crime he didn’t commit. “No, I don’t kiss every female I meet.” His gaze slid back to Mary. He hadn’t initiated either kiss on that front porch, and she damn well knew it. “Sometimes they kiss me.”
“Look, Marsha, be a good girl and fetch my bags,” Lee said, smiling at Taggart. He could feel her lace her fingers at the back of his neck, connecting herself to him like a noose. “They’re in the trunk. I’m simply too exhausted.”
Yeah, right, Taggart thought. If that sultry purr I hear in your voice is exhaustion, I’ll eat your baggage. He reached up and disengaged her hold on him. “I’ll get the suitcases, Lee. Mary is Miz Witty’s caregiver, not yours.” He slung a controlling arm about the blonde’s shoulders, guiding her off the porch and down the steps, planning to have a private word with her. “Why don’t you come, too.”
She giggled. The sexy sound used to turn him on. Now it annoyed the fire out of him. “I love it when you talk dirty,” she whispered, but Taggart feared it had not been quiet enough to keep Mary from overhearing. When they reached the trunk, he opened it, masking himself and Lee from Mary’s view. “What the hell are you doing here?” he ground out under his breath. “Who’s minding the store?”
“Don’t worry, Daddy,” she teased, sounding more amused than sympathetic. “I know, I know, Baxter and Barker are both four hundred years old, but they’re not dead. They manage to hobble into the office on occasion. And when they don’t, they can be reached on the golf course. Otherwise, the children can handle things.”
To Lee, all lawyers in the firm beneath the level of “partner” were “the children.” She even called them that to their faces. She wasn’t the most popular lawyer in the firm, but she had a razor-sharp mind and was lethal in court, and that’s what counted.
“Dammit, Lee, this pretense is hard enough to sustain without…” He tried to be polite. Old habits died hard. “…without complications.”
She slid an arm about his waist, squeezing possessively. “Don’t panic—Bonn. See, I’ve been practicing all the way from the airport. Besides
, I brought some papers that need your signature.”
“Oh? I hadn’t heard the United States Post Office, Federal Express and UPS had all folded.”
“Funny man.” She playfully poked him in the ribs. “Actually, I was thinking. You know, about how you needed a vacation. And I decided I did, too. So I thought a few days in the Rockies would be just the ticket.”
“You thought wrong.”
She indicated her suitcases. “Aren’t you going to get them?”
“No,” he said. “You’re not staying.”
Her expression changed from giggly girlfriend to tough-as-nails lawyer. “Of course, I am. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Me? Ridiculous?” Her lack of sensitivity amazed him. “You show up, unannounced, at the home of a total stranger, in the middle of the night and you expect—”
“That’s not my fault,” she cut in. “I tried to call you. Where is your cell?”
“It’s in a drawer, turned off,” he said. “After that call you made, I decided it was too chancy to keep it with me. Besides, I’m on vacation, remember?”
“Well, I’m here, and I’m staying.” She nudged him provocatively with her hip. “I don’t need a room—just half your bed.”
From the moment he’d recognized her when she’d stepped out of her rental car, he’d known this was coming. Resentment at her assumption that they would be sleeping together raged through him. “Not a chance, Lee,” he said. “I’m supposed to be here entertaining my frail, old grandmother, not for a sex-fest with you.”
He was angry, and it was hard to keep his voice low, but he made himself. “Miz Witty may not be my grandmother, but I like her. I won’t have this supposed reunion tainted. I won’t let her think her beloved Bonny couldn’t keep his zipper shut for a two week visit with his only living relative. Confound it, Lee, the woman adores Bonn. She thinks I’m him. I won’t corrupt what could be her last memory of him by having her think he’d rather…” Taggart was worn out from the strain of putting a polite spin on his words. He decided to say what he felt. “…have meaningless sex.”
She blinked, but otherwise he could detect no emotional hit. What did he expect? She was cast iron. It made her a great defense lawyer, but not necessarily a great human being. To benefit her client’s cause in court, she could ruthlessly dirty a victim’s reputation and never feel a twinge of remorse.
With an exasperated exhale, he went on. “Who knows when or if Bonner’s grandmother will ever see him again. If he goes to jail, she could die before he gets out. If that happens, then these two weeks have to be the best I can make them for her. Surely you can see that.”
Lee blinked again, glanced away and pursed her lips. He didn’t think she had it in her to be regretful or apologetic, but something about the action made him feel this was as close as she would ever get. Even when judges threatened her with contempt of court, her apologies sounded more like “Go To Hades!” than true repentance.
She touched his arm. “Good grief, Taggart,” she said, “I had no idea you’d take this little prank so seriously.”
He turned away, stared up at the sky. Before he’d met Miz Witty, he hadn’t thought about how the impersonation would affect her. He’d only been thinking of Bonn’s predicament, and how much he owed his friend. “It was never a prank to me,” he muttered. “I was angry at first, but now…” He shook his head. “Miz Witty’s a nice woman,” he said. “I won’t hurt her and I don’t intend to give you the chance to, either.” He frowned. “Your being here makes it twice as likely one of us will forget the ruse at the wrong moment and break that lonely woman’s heart.”
Lee eyed him with disbelief. “You sound like you really care.”
“Hell, Lee, what have I been saying?”
She shook her head and perched on the edge of the car trunk. “Well, that’s positively quaint, baby. But say what you will, and feel what you will, I’m not leaving. My return flight out of Denver is next Wednesday. So all I can do is promise I’ll be on my best behavior.” She glanced up at his face. “In public.” She took his hand, smiling. “This is a new side to you, Tag.” She squeezed his fingers. “Maybe it’s a mental abnormality brought on by breathing thin mountain air, but I’ve never seen you so passionate about not wanting to hurt somebody’s feelings.” She raised his hand to her cheek, rubbing his knuckles along her skin. “It’s very sexy.”
He rolled his eyes, tugging from her grip. “Yeah, you’re off to a great start, Miss Best Behavior.”
“I said, in public,” she reminded. Standing, she smoothed her slim skirt. “You get the bags—Bonn, baby—and I’ll let the nursemaid show me to a room of my own. Surely there must be something in that big place.”
“Damnation, Lee!” Her condescension toward Mary grated on him as much as her bullheadedness. “Go back to Boston. Your being here will not change what I said in March. How many times do I have to break it off?” He hoped his bluntness would force her to realize what she wanted to be rekindled between them would never happen.
She crossed her arms before her, looking immovable on the subject. “Okay, fine! I’ll go, but before I do, don’t be surprised if I blow your whole charade—Taggart Lancaster!” Her expression and her tone was hard. “Do I make myself abundantly clear?”
He wasn’t unduly surprised. Disappointed, but not surprised. Lee was a top litigator, and top litigators could be merciless. He should know. There had been times in his career when he’d shown no mercy, either. As things stood now, he didn’t have any recourse but to believe her threat. If it were just him, he wouldn’t care. But he wasn’t going to hurt Miz Witty. Not for anything.
There was another reason, too. One he didn’t like to think about—didn’t want to acknowledge. But it was there, hovering around the edges of his mind. The idea of leaving now, never to see Mary again, caused him actual physical pain. He took a deep breath, trying to discipline his temper and his stubborn heart. “So, it’s blackmail?” he demanded stonily.
She smiled, looking like her old, crafty self. “Let’s not call it blackmail, baby.”
“That’s what it is.”
She rested her hands on his shoulders and pecked his cheek. “I know, but let’s not call it that.” Indicating her bags, she added, “Now that that’s settled, you get the suitcases.”
“You don’t care that I’ve made it clear there’s nothing between us?”
Her laughter was husky, as though he’d said something absurdly naive. “Men. You’re all alike. You don’t know what you know until the right woman tells you.” She patted his cheek. “Be a good boy, baby, and get my bags.”
He stared her down. The censure in his expression made no impression. She puckered as though throwing him a kiss. “I’ll ask Magda to show me to a room.”
“Her name is Mary,” he gritted, dragging out the first bag. “Mary O’Mara. It’s not a difficult name to remember.”
She turned away. Without looking back, she said, “Mary? Magda? Who cares?”
As he hauled out the second suitcase, he peered at Lee’s retreating form. “I do,” he muttered, then cringed at hearing his answer stated aloud. It had hardly been a wild, over-the-top declaration of love. Nevertheless he felt like a traitor.
When Mary surprised him with her kiss on the porch, stopping himself from dragging her down to the bare boards and making love to her had been hell on wheels. He didn’t want to feel that much heat for anybody. What was it about Mary that caused such a restless, impatient and unruly effect on him? Something—a flash of inspiration, an inkling of inescapable truth—tried to bubble up from his subconscious, but he resisted, rejected it. He wasn’t ready, refused to face it.
“Dammit!” His curse, raw with pain and self-disgust, was masked by the slam of the trunk. Bowing his head as though in prayer, he rested the flats of his hands on the trunk and slouched forward, weary and heartsick. Memories of his lost love assailed him. Memories that had sustained him these past five years. He’d thought they would always be e
nough. “I’m so sorry, Annalisa,” he whispered, guilt riding him hard. “Tell me what to do.”
So this was the woman Bonner Wittering cared about. For some reason, Mary found herself disappointed in the man for his taste. There was no arguing that Lee Stanton was striking, most likely a high-fashion model. But she seemed—hard, somehow. And completely self-absorbed.
Mary moved slowly down the stairs from the second floor, this new development monopolizing her thoughts. She shook her head at herself for feeling the slightest bit depressed. “Why are you surprised?” she mumbled. “He’s a gorgeous, selfish jerk. Why shouldn’t his girlfriend be a gorgeous, selfish jerkette? Look at it logically. They’re perfect for each other.” Sadly, Mary found it hard to look at anything logically that pertained to Bonner Wittering. That was her whole trouble.
She heard the front door open and lifted her gaze to see the blonde come inside.
“Oh, there you are,” Lee said, placing a well-manicured hand on one slim hip. “I’ll need a room.” She arched a brow, looking highly put out. “Bonner thinks it would upset granny if we sleep together.” Mary was surprised that Bonn had insisted on separate rooms. Maybe he did have a little sensitivity in his soul, after all.
Waving toward the upstairs, Lee added, “I’d prefer something with southern exposure.”
Mary had a hard time holding back the suggestion that Miss High-And-Mighty turn around, and she’d be happy to boot her precious southern exposure out onto the gravel. She managed a polite smile, and counted to ten.
On the off-off chance Bonn’s girlfriend would need a room, Mary had gone up to ask Ruby about the only other one available, in the old carriage house, now the garage. The second level had been turned into a charming guest room with bath, but Mary hadn’t been sure if it was ready for occupancy. Groggy and affronted, Ruby told her it was always ready.
“I’ll show you to your room,” she murmured. Walking past the woman, Mary flipped a switch that turned on the light illuminating the outside stairway that led up to the carriage house guest room. “If you’ll follow me.” Mary opened the front door.
