by Dawn Atkins
“Sorry. I didn’t know.”
She seemed honestly sorry, so he gave her an out. “That stands to reason. You haven’t been back in...years.”
“I have a life and a business,” she snapped.
“I know that. I didn’t mean to say—”
“That I’m a selfish brat who abandoned her family?”
“Right. And I’m sure you weren’t implying that I’m a clueless rube whose world ends at the town limits.” Joe Banes had nothing on them when it came to edgy.
“Sorry. I guess I’m sensitive about that.”
“I guess I am, too.”
“So you manage your father and Wharton. That’s a tall order. Your father’s impossible and my family owns the town.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he said, irritated that she was still mocking him.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. We chose different paths, but we both got what we wanted, right?”
“Right.” He could see in her eyes she didn’t quite buy it. Her views about Wharton were entrenched, as burned into her soul as their time together was in his. She would never see his life—or the town—the way he did. He wasn’t about to tell her his development plan. She’d never stop mocking him.
The silence hung, tension humming in the air between them like the wings of the birds zipping from flower to flower before them.
Finally Tara sighed. When she spoke, her tone was conciliatory. “The contract between the two companies, our fathers making peace... You did that, didn’t you? I don’t see either of them backing down.”
“Yes, I did.”
“How’d you manage it?” She looked straight at him, blue eyes digging in. She really wanted to know.
“To start with, when the lawsuit failed, I convinced Dad to reopen Ryland Engineering. That got him moving forward. I tracked what Wharton was up to through engineers who used to work for us and made sure we moved in a direction that dovetailed with Wharton’s ventures. We had parts Wharton needed at the right price, so it all came together.”
“It wasn’t that simple. Not with our fathers’ attitudes.”
“They both wanted to make peace. I just gave them a way that made business sense and let them keep their pride.”
“You’re being modest. I know what you faced. The hardest part of working out conflicts between employee groups is restoring trust. You did an amazing thing.” Her gaze held respect.
“It was important to me to repair the rift between them. I knew it would restore my father’s faith in himself.” It felt good to have his achievement recognized by the one person who truly knew the people involved. He’d love to talk about his next steps—leaving the company, building up the town—but it wasn’t worth the risk. Deep wounds stayed tender and he didn’t trust her not to jab at him again.
“So that’s me,” he said. “What about you? How’s your business going?”
“Reasonably well for eighteen months on my own. In this economy, corporations see consultants as a luxury, so I have to prove that what I do impacts the bottom line.”
“I’m sure you’re convincing.”
“I have to be. My survival depends on it.” He liked the fire in her eyes, the determination in her voice. He’d bet she was a formidable force on the job.
“This is nice,” she said, smiling softly. “Talking to you. I feel almost normal.” She inhaled deeply, then blew it out. “I can even breathe again. I suppose that means I should get back inside,” she added reluctantly, standing.
He stood with her.
She looked at him, her gaze appreciative. “You always were a good listener. You never tried to fix me. You just let me talk it out.”
“You always knew the answer. You needed to convince yourself.” They stood too close together, but he didn’t want to step away. Not yet.
She smiled and leaned past him for her jacket, brushed against him, her breast against his arm. She wobbled and he caught her. Their eyes met and a current passed between them, making the air seem to crackle. He’d forgotten the power of their physical connection, the way it took down all his walls, pushed past any caution, any sense.
He was so close he could see the flecks of navy blue in the sky-blue of her eyes, the dots of perspiration on her sculpted lips, the way the lace of her bra pushed at the silk of her shirt as her ribs expanded with quick breaths. Her hair trembled against her cheek.
Or maybe he was the one trembling, wanting to kiss her, to see if she tasted the same, felt the same, if she let out the same sighs. His sensible thoughts had zipped away like that nosy hummingbird.
No. Stop this. Like with that hug in the hospital, they were on automatic pilot. This wasn’t real. It was a pointless response to their past, some misguided nostalgia.
He didn’t want to feel that wild again, that crazy in love. He knew the pain that followed, and he was done with the roller-coaster ride.
The buzz of a cell phone made them both jump. It was like a smoke alarm, alerting them to a fire in the making.
He handed her the jacket—the source of the buzz. She pulled out her phone and looked at the display. “It’s Faye’s nurse!” She shot him a panicked look, then put the phone to her ear. “Rita? Did something happen?” Her eyes were wild with fear. “Oh...okay...whew.”
Relief filled her face. She listened a bit. “Got it,” she said with a nod. “Thanks for everything, Rita. I hope we’ll see you.” She put her phone away.
“What happened?”
“Rita’s going back to her regular floor, so she won’t be Faye’s ICU nurse anymore. She wanted to let me know so I’d stop calling her.”
“You call her?”
“I talked her into giving me her number since I’m so far from the hospital.” She blew out a breath. “That was scary. I thought Faye might be failing.” She locked gazes with him. Sudden tears shivered in her eyes. “If Faye dies...I don’t know what I’ll do.”
He leaned forward to hug her, comfort her, but she held up her hands.
“No. I’m not staining another of your shirts.” She managed a smile. “But I will take a curiously strong mint if that’s what’s making the bulge in your pocket.” She grinned. “Your shirt pocket.”
“You got it,” he said, opening the tin so they could both take mints.
She put on her jacket, then rubbed a finger under each eye. “Can you tell I’ve been crying?”
“Not at all,” he lied, because the effect only intensified her beauty, made her eyes shinier, her cheeks pinker, her lips brighter. “You get to be sad, you know, Tara. You don’t have to tough it out.”
“I have to try, Dylan. You know that.”
“I do. I thought it was worth a shot.” He watched her gather herself, straighten her spine, shake out her hair and jut her chin, ready for battle. He admired her strength in the face of adversity. She was an amazing person and always had been.
“I don’t know how long you’ll be in town, but if there’s anything I can do...any way to help...” He took out his wallet and handed her a card. “Contact information’s on both sides.”
She turned over the card, which had his Ryland Engineering numbers on one side, the town manager’s on the other. Her brows lifted in surprise.
“Even hicks need business cards.”
“Hey, now, I didn’t say that.”
“But you were thinking it.”
She smiled, then got serious. “I may call you. I have some questions about the accident and if I get stalled, you’ll probably be able to help. You’re town manager, right?”
“Right. What kind of questions?”
“Some details. Why my sister was driving my dad’s car, who called the police chief, stuff like that. Some things don’t add up.”
“I’m here if you need me,” he said, wondering if he’d live to regret those words.
He was still wondering that as he headed home. She’d needed him in high school, for sure, just as he’d needed her. They’d been inseparable. She’d
brightened his life. He’d steadied hers. In a way, they’d saved each other.
Until he’d disappointed her. He’d had no idea her love for him balanced on a razor’s edge. He hadn’t wanted to give up college, all their plans, but he’d had no choice. He couldn’t let his father sink any lower, but she refused to accept that.
It’s only a delay. I’ll be there in a year. He’s my family. He needs me.
I need you. You’re my family.
I can’t walk away. He needs help to get back on his feet. I’m the only one he’ll listen to. When you love someone, you have to be there for them, even when it’s inconvenient.
Then it got ugly. She’d called him a coward, afraid of life, hiding behind his father. And he’d said the worst thing he could have said to her. He’d told her she didn’t love anyone, not even herself.
He’d backtracked, explained it wasn’t her fault, it was the way she was raised, but the damage had been done. He’d grabbed her by the throat with her deepest fear and that was that.
Eventually he realized she was right to cut him off. If her love for him was so fragile that it couldn’t bear a delay, couldn’t forgive harsh words said in anger, then it wasn’t the kind of love that would last—the kind of love he wanted. Love sacrificed, love forgave, love was sturdy, not brittle, not contingent or conditional. Tara had never felt that kind of love, so how could she give it?
Pulling into his driveway, however, Dylan noticed he was still wound up, playing back the way she’d smelled, the sound of her laugh, the glint in her eyes, her lips. Oh, her lips. His body seemed to have a mind of its own.
He didn’t need this in his life. Not ever again.
What he wanted was a solid, resilient, steady love. A love that could last a lifetime. And he would go after that once he finished at Ryland and got things rolling for the town. Seeing Tara was helpful, really. She reminded him of exactly what he didn’t want.
CHAPTER FIVE
BY THE TIME TARA returned from her hummingbird break, the house had nearly emptied out. She felt guilty for abandoning her host duties, but talking to Dylan had helped. She felt calmer and less exhausted by the hours of accepting condolences, reporting about Faye, smiling the frozen smile that made her cheeks ache. Dylan had rescued her.
He’d always done that for her. Too much, she’d realized later. She’d let herself depend on him, leaning back like a trust exercise, except he’d let her drop to the dirt, rattling her to her core.
It had been a hard lesson, but an important one that had served her well: stand on your own two feet, count on yourself more than anyone else. She’d dated, had boyfriends, but she stayed self-sufficient.
Standing there with him, when he’d caught her arm, she’d been so tempted to kiss him. She’d felt the same rush to be with him, to shut out everything but him, to be safe in his arms, to be home. But that was stupid. He belonged in Wharton and she belonged anywhere but.
She had the uneasy awareness that part of the reason she’d never gotten close to a man was that she’d been waiting for the heart-stopping rush of rightness she’d felt with Dylan.
But that was first-love lunacy, right? And look how that had turned out. That horrible fight, when he’d confirmed her worst fear—that she wasn’t capable of love—proved how wrong she’d been to get so close to him. She never wanted to go through that again. Like an addictive drug, the high wasn’t worth the hangover.
She noticed her face still felt hot. From Dylan? Maybe the tequila. She wasn’t much of a drinker, after all.
She’d been stunned by how much she’d wanted him to kiss her, to kiss him back. Of course, it made sense. She was upset, sad and scared. It would be natural to want to escape, to get caught up in something intensely physical.
She’d done that after the breakup. The first week of college, she’d slept with a guy just to stop missing Dylan, to block the pain for a little while, to have someone’s arms around her. It had been a mistake. She’d never felt more empty in her life. Cold to her bones and lonelier than ever.
Sex with Dylan would stay a fantasy. That would be best. She was glad that he seemed happy. He’d made the best of getting stuck here, managed a degree, done remarkable work with his father—and hers. But then, he was brilliant, so he’d do well anywhere. What might he have done if he’d escaped like she had?
Not fair. The Wharton Effect again. Like she’d told him, there were other paths. She’d better get that through her head.
She pushed away thoughts of Dylan and focused on the remaining guests, speaking to each one, noticing again the way conversations broke off when she approached. Were they gossiping about her, her family or Wharton Electronics? Maybe all three.
“Señorita Wharton.” She turned to face a short Latina, probably early thirties, who held out her hand. “So sad to lose Señor Wharton.”
“Thank you,” she said, shaking the woman’s warm palm.
“I’m Sonya Manos.” The woman searched her face. “Mr. Wharton give me a chance I never have before. On the job, I learn.” Her j had that soft y Spanish lent English. “I supervise now. Nine people.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Mr. Wharton...he can be duro...hard. But he see in your heart, what you can do with only a chance.” She pressed her palm into her chest. “He save my family.”
“I’m sure he felt lucky to have you working for him.”
“Always I am grateful,” she said, then walked away, leaving Tara choked up all over again. The funeral speeches hadn’t all been PR. Her father had done good things. She wished more than ever that she’d cleared the air with him.
On her way to the kitchen to finalize things with the caterer, she ran into Faye’s secretary, Carol Conway, filling a trash bag with plates and plastic glasses.
“You don’t need to do that, Carol. The caterers will handle it.”
“I have to do something,” she said, shaking the sack. “I’m so mad.”
“What happened?”
“It’s the gossip.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “That’s a terrible curve. Anyone could have missed it. Faye would never drink and drive. She—”
“Wait. People are saying Faye was drunk?” Tara was stunned.
“It’s an ugly rumor. In the first place, she wasn’t even drinking her one glass of merlot a night anymore. She’d gone low-carb. And what was she doing at Vito’s? Pasta is totally off her diet. Walking by and smelling tomato sauce was too tempting, she told me.”
Chills raced along Tara’s nerves. Here was another person with doubts about the wreck. “Do you know who started the rumor?”
“No. And when I find out, he’s getting a piece of my mind. Or she.”
“I’m puzzled that Faye was driving my father’s car...” she said, leaving a gap she hoped Carol would fill.
“I know. Especially since they weren’t getting along.”
“Really?”
Carol’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t know? I’m sorry. I hope I’m not speaking out of turn.”
“You’re not. Not at all. Do you know what caused them to disagree?”
“Not exactly. Mr. Banes and Faye were arguing, too. It might have been about the quarterlies. Mr. Banes had asked for an extension.”
So Faye had quarreled with her mother, her father and her husband in the days before the accident. Did it have to do with the “transition” Faye had mentioned? Was the company in financial trouble and the management team at odds about how to handle it?
Maybe Faye had gone to Vito’s to confront her father. Or make peace. Or maybe she was sick of depriving herself and dropped in to carb load. It could be a million things. All Tara knew for sure was that the prickling sensation she’d first felt had become a cold chill.
And what was this about Faye driving drunk? She could not allow that to stand unchallenged. On Monday, she would talk to Chief Fallon, who’d been first on the scene...and whispering in her mother’s ear at the funeral.
“I love Faye,” Ca
rol said, her voice breaking. “She’s the best boss ever. She was training me to become a project manager. She paid for extra computer training. Now...I don’t know what will happen to me.”
“You’ll be needed, Carol. You know that.”
She shook her head. “Joseph doesn’t like me. He doesn’t like that Faye includes me in meetings or lets me handle personnel memos.”
“Is that so?”
“They argued about you, too.”
“They did?”
“Yes. Faye wanted to hire you and Joseph threw a fit. He said they didn’t need a clueless consultant nosing around their business.”
“A clueless consultant? Really?”
“He didn’t mean it in a personal way. Just consultants in general. He blurts crap like that when he’s upset. Plus, you’re expensive. Faye defended you. She told him to read your website about your clients and all you’ve achieved.”
Her sister’s confidence in her warmed Tara’s heart and made her more determined than ever to help out at Wharton. Joseph didn’t want anyone nosing around. When managers got secretive, that usually meant it was time to shine a klieg light on their doings.
She’d have to approach the situation carefully. Carol could be an ally, especially since Faye had trusted her. “Faye did ask me to help out. She called a few weeks ago. I’d like to do that, but I know Mr. Banes will take some convincing.”
“That’s for sure.”
“What I’d like to do first is look over Faye’s files and emails, just to get a sense of what she was working on, but without upsetting Joseph. Is there a time I could do that when he’s out of the office?”
“Monday mornings the managers meet upstairs in the conference room. Our floor is quiet with just us worker bees. Joseph will have to run the meetings with Faye gone, so it’ll probably go all day.”
“Perfect,” Tara said, thinking it through. “Joseph offered me a tour. I could check Faye’s office, then pop in to meet the managers and ask about the tour. That’ll be perfect.”
“I’ll help however I can. With Mr. Wharton gone and Faye so sick, we’re all scared about the future.”
