by Linda Howard
She had never felt so violently attracted to a man before.
With Matt…they had grown up together, they’d been in the same class in school, from first grade through graduation. She had known Matt as well as she knew herself; they’d been like two halves of a whole. The love had grown gradually between them, pure and steady, like a candle flame. Robert…Robert was an inferno, and the heat between them could leave her in ashes.
Robert and Virgil had been gone for over an hour when Landon Mercer strolled into the marina. “Hi, doll,” he said jovially. “How’s the prettiest woman in this part of the state?”
Evie’s expression was impassive as she glanced at him. Unfortunately, business had slowed down and she was there alone. She always preferred to have company around when she had to deal with him. Of course, being alone meant that she would have the opportunity to follow him again. Her thoughts began to hum. “Hello, Mr. Mercer.”
“Landon,” he said, as he always did. He leaned against the counter in a negligent pose, one designed to show off his physique. Mercer was a good-looking man, she admitted, but he left her cold.
“Do you want to rent a boat today?” she asked, turning to check which ones were available, though she knew without looking. She had quickly discovered that the best way to deflect his attention was to appear oblivious to it.
“Sure do. It’s been a while since I’ve done any fishing, so I decided to play hooky from work this afternoon.” He laughed at his own pun.
Evie managed a polite smile. He had brought in a small tackle box and one rod and reel, the same rig he always carried. The same lure was tied to the line.
“Do you want any particular boat?”
“No, any of them will do.” He leaned closer. “When I get back, why don’t we go out to dinner tonight? Not anywhere here. We’ll go someplace nice, maybe in Birmingham.”
“Thanks, but I’m busy tonight,” she replied, her tone conveying no interest at all. Unfortunately, he was so taken with his own charm that he was oblivious to her lack of response to him.
“Tomorrow night, then. It’s Saturday night. We can even go to Atlanta for some real fun, since we wouldn’t have to be back for work.”
“The marina’s open seven days a week.”
“Oh. Okay, we’ll go to Birmingham.”
“No, thank you, Mr. Mercer. I’m busy tomorrow night, too.”
“C’mon, how busy can you be? Whatever it is, you can put it off.”
Her teeth were on edge. She barely managed to be polite as she said, “I have a date tomorrow night.”
“Now I’m jealous. Who’s the lucky man?”
“No one you know.” She took an ignition key from the pegboard and slid it across the counter to him. “There you go. Number five, the one at the end of the dock.”
He took out his wallet and extracted a couple of twenties. “I’ll have it back in two hours.” He picked up the ignition key.
“Fine.” She mustered a smile. “Have a good time. Hope you catch a lot.”
“I never do, but it’s fun to try,” he said breezily as he picked up his tackle and went out the door.
Evie put the money into the cash drawer and locked it, all the while eyeing Mercer as he walked down the dock. He was looking around, studying the parking lot and the traffic on the street out front, as well as on the bisecting causeway.
Swiftly she picked up the phone and buzzed Burt in the maintenance building. He picked up just as Mercer was getting into the boat.
“Burt, I’m taking the boat out for a while,” Evie said swiftly. “I’m locking the store, but keep an eye on the gas pumps while I’m gone.”
“Sure,” he said, as unquestioning as ever. Burt Mardis didn’t have a curious bone in his body.
Mercer was idling away from the dock. Evie jammed a ball cap on her head, grabbed her sunglasses and hurried from the building. She locked the door behind her, then sprinted for her own boat.
He was beyond the wave breakers by the time she reached her boat, and she heard the roar as he opened up the throttle. She all but threw herself into the boat and turned the key in the ignition. The motor coughed to life with a satisfying roar. Her boat was faster than any of the rentals, but on the water, and at speed, it was difficult to distinguish one vessel from another.
She had to idle away from the marina, because a fast takeoff would make waves large enough to violently rock the boats in their slips, possibly damaging them. Swearing at every lost second, she waited until she was past the wave breakers before pushing the throttle forward. The motor roared, and the front end of the boat lifted in the air as the vessel shot forward. It planed off almost immediately, the nose dropping into the running position.
She scanned the water for Mercer; unfortunately, he had gained enough distance that she couldn’t positively identify him, and there were three boats speeding away from her, small specks that bobbed slightly as they cut through the waves. Which one was Mercer?
The sun wasn’t far past its apex, and the glare turned the lake into a mirror. Hot air hit her, pulling tendrils of hair loose around her face. The scent of the river filled her head and lungs, and a quiet exultation spread through her. This was a part of her life that she loved—the wind in her face, the sense of speed, the feel of the boat as it glided over calm water and bumped over waves. Though there were other boats on the lake, and houses visible all along the shoreline, when she was speeding across the water it was like being alone with God. She would have been perfectly content, if only she knew what Mercer was up to.
After a minute one boat slowed and turned toward another marina. As she neared, she could tell that it held two passengers.
That left two. The throttle was full forward, and she was gaining on one, while the other, probably a speedy bass boat, was pulling away. Since her boat was faster than the rental, the one she was overtaking had to be Mercer. Cautiously she throttled back, enough to stay at a pace with him but not so close that he would see and identify her. Just about everyone on the water would be wearing a ball cap and sunglasses, and her hair was pulled back in a braid rather than flying loose, so she felt fairly confident that he wouldn’t recognize her.
He was heading toward the same area, where there were a lot of small islands dotting the lake. She wouldn’t be able to get very close, because once he cut his speed he would be able to hear other boats. Her best bet, she thought, was to stop some distance away and pretend to be fishing.
The boat ahead slowed and cut between two islands. Evie kept her speed steady and cruised on past. There was a distance of over two hundred yards between them, but she could tell that now he was idling closer to the bank of the island on the right.
She turned in the opposite direction, away from him. A barge was coming downriver, heavily loaded and settled deep into the water, pushing out a wave as it plowed forward. If she let the barge come between her and Mercer, it would block his activities for almost half a minute, plenty long enough for her to lose him. But if she moved inside the barge’s path, it would put her closer to him than she wanted to be.
There was no help for it. She tucked her long braid inside her shirt to hide that identifying detail and turned the boat to angle back across the river ahead of the barge.
“Guntersville Lake’s easy to learn,” Virgil stated. “’Course, I was fishin’ the river back before the TVA built the dam, so I knowed the lay of the land before the water backed up and covered it. Not many of us around now remembers the way it used to be. River used to flood a lot. So Roosevelt’s boys decided we needed us a dam, so there wouldn’t be no more floods. Well, hell, ’course there ain’t, ’cause now the land that flooded ever now an’ then is permanently under water. The government calls it flood control. They throwed around words like eminent domain, but what they did is take people’s land, turn them off their farms, and put a lot of good land under water.”
“The TVA brought electricity to the Tennessee River Valley, didn’t it?” Robert asked. He was holding
the boat to around twenty miles an hour, not much more than idling speed to the powerful motor behind them, but the slow speed made conversation possible. They had to raise their voices, but they could hear each other.
Virgil snorted. “Sure it did. Glad to have it, too. But nobody ever thought the TVA built that dam to make our lives easier. Hell, we knew what was goin’ on. It was the Depression, and Roosevelt would have built the second Tower of Babel to make jobs for folks, for all the good it did to the economy. It took the war to kick-start things again.”
“Did you fight in the war?”
“Too old for that one.” Virgil cackled with glee. “Imagine that! Over fifty years ago, they said I was too old! But I was in the first one. Lied about my age to get in. Not that they checked too close, ’cause they needed men could hit the broad side of a barn with a rifle slug. During the second one, I volunteered to help train the younger fellers with their rifles, but that was all stateside. Suited me. My wife weren’t none too pleased with me, anyway, leavin’ her to handle five young’uns on her own. She’d have been mad as hell if I’d gone overseas. Our oldest boy, John Edward, was seventeen when it all started, and he joined the navy. It fretted her enough that he was gone. He made it back fine, though. Imagine that. The boy went through a war in the Pacific without a scratch, then come home and died two years later with the pneumonia. Life’s got a lotta strange turns in it. Don’t guess I’ll see too many more of them, but then, I didn’t plan on hangin’ around this long to begin with.”
The old man lapsed into silence, perhaps remembering all the people who had come and gone through his life. After a minute he roused himself. “Got a lot of creeks emptyin’ into the lake. We passed Short Creek a ways back. This here’s Town Creek.”
Robert had studied maps of the lake, so when Virgil identified the creeks he was able to pinpoint their location. Since the river channel was marked, staying in safely deep water was no problem. It was when he ventured out of the river channel that Virgil’s expertise came in handy, because he knew where it was shallow, where the hidden stump rows were lurking just under the surface, ready to tear the bottom out of a boat if the driver wasn’t careful. For several more minutes, Virgil devoted himself to his appointed task, pointing out quirks of the lake.
Then he said, “I’ve lost a lot of folks over the years. My own mama and pa, of course, and all my brothers and sisters. There were sixteen of us, and I’m the only one left. Got a piss pot full of nieces and nephews, though, and all of their kids, and their kids’ kids. My wife passed on in sixty-four. Lord, it don’t seem like it’s been that long. I’ve lost three of my own kids. Parents ought not to outlive their kids. It ain’t right. And all my friends that I growed up with, they’re long gone.
“Yep, I’ve had to bury many a loved one, so I get right protective of the ones I got left.” Faded blue eyes were suddenly piercing as he turned them on Robert. “Evie’s a special woman. She’s had enough sorrow in her young life, so if you don’t mean to do right by her, it would be a kindness if you’d leave her alone and haul your ass back up north.”
Robert’s face was impassive. “Evie’s related to you?” he asked neutrally, ignoring Virgil’s rather combative statement. He wasn’t about to get into an argument with a ninety-three-year-old man.
Virgil snorted. “Not by blood. But I’ve knowed her all her life, watched her grow up, and there’s not a finer woman in this town. Now, I watch television, so I know times have changed from when I was young enough to court a woman. Back then we had enough respect for womenfolk not to do nothing to cause them harm. But, like I said, times have changed. I know young folks now get serious about things without tyin’ the knot proper, and that ain’t what I’m talkin’ about. Thing is, if you’re just lookin’ for a good time, then find some other woman. Evie ain’t like that.”
Robert had to struggle with several conflicting emotions. Foremost was his cold, instinctive anger at Virgil’s scolding interference. In neither his business nor his personal life was he accustomed to being taken to task. Right after that, though, was amusement. He was thirty-six and, moreover, an extremely wealthy man who wielded a great deal of power in both financial and political circles. He almost smiled at Virgil lumping him in with “young folks.”
What took most of his attention, though, was this second warning that Evie wasn’t a good-time girl. Evie herself had issued the first warning: Don’t kiss me unless it’s for real. After Virgil’s little speech, the underlying meaning of those warnings was clear, though the reason wasn’t.
“I don’t usually discuss my relationships,” he finally said in a faintly distant tone, just enough to signal his displeasure. “But my interest in Evie isn’t casual.” In any way. “What did you mean, she’s had enough sorrow in her life?” Because that had been the basis of the talk: Don’t hurt her.
“I mean, life ain’t been easy on her. Grief comes to everybody, if they live long enough. Some folks, though, it hits harder than others. Losin’ Matt the way she did, the day after they got married…well, it changed her. There ain’t no sunshine in her eyes now, the way there used to be. She never looked at another man since Matt died, until you. So don’t disappoint her, is what I’m sayin’.”
Robert was knocked off balance by the surge of jealousy that seared through him. Jealousy? He’d never been jealous in his life, especially where a woman was concerned. Either his women were faithful to him or the relationship ended. Period. How could he be jealous of a boy who had been dead for a dozen years? But Evie still wore Matt Shaw’s wedding ring on her finger and had evidently remained faithful to him even after all this time. Forget Mercer; that had obviously been an error. An understandable one, but still an error. He was both glad that she wasn’t involved with Mercer, at least on that level, and furious that she was determined to waste herself on a memory. I don’t want to sleep with you, she’d said. She was still trying to be faithful to a dead husband.
“What kind of person was Matt?” he asked. He didn’t want to know, didn’t want to talk about the boy, but he felt compelled to find out.
“He was a fine boy. Would have been a good man, if he’d had the chance. Good-natured, honest. Kindhearted, too. Can’t say that about too many folks, but Matt didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He never dated anybody but Evie, and it was the same with her. They planned to marry each other from the time they started high school together. Never saw two kids love each other the way they did. It was a shame that they didn’t have no more time together than what they had. She didn’t even have his child to keep part of him alive. Damn shame. She needed somthing to live for, back then.”
Robert had had enough. He couldn’t listen to much more about how wonderful Matt Shaw had been, and how much Evie had loved him, without losing his temper. He couldn’t remember the last time he had lost control, but there was a deep-seated fury in him now that was surging forward. He didn’t try to analyze his anger; he simply and ruthlessly contained it, shoving it down as he turned the boat downriver and headed back toward the marina. He eased the throttle forward so the noise would make conversation impossible.
Fifteen minutes later they were idling up to the docks. At the sound of the motor, a man wearing grease-covered coveralls came out of the maintenance building and walked out on the dock. He nodded a greeting to Robert and said to Virgil, “Come in outta the sun and keep me company for a while. Evie closed the office and took her boat out for a while.” As he talked, he extended a muscular arm to steady Virgil as he climbed out of the boat onto the dock.
“When was this?” Robert asked sharply.
The mechanic shrugged. “An hour, maybe. I didn’t pay no attention to the time.”
She had refused to close the marina early one rainy late afternoon, when there had been no customers, but now she had closed it not long after lunch on a beautiful, sunny, busy day. Robert’s eyes narrowed. He looked at the parking lot. He knew the make, model and color of Mercer’s car, and there it sat.
Damn her. She had left to meet with the traitorous bastard.
Chapter Eight
Robert was standing on the dock when Evie eased her boat into its regular slip. He was wearing those extra dark sunglasses that completely hid his eyes, but she didn’t need to see them to know that they were icy with rage. Maybe it was the way he moved, very deliberately, every action contained, that alerted her to his mood. An uncontrollable shiver ran over her, despite the heat. There was something far more alarming about that cold, ruthless control than if he had been violent. Again she had the thought that he was the most dangerous man she’d ever seen. But what had put him in such a menacing mood?
She tied off and leapt up onto the dock. “Did Virgil enjoy himself?” she asked as she stepped around Robert, heading toward the office. He wasn’t the only one who had self-control. Right now she had other concerns besides dealing with his temper. She could hear the roar of a boat coming closer; that might or might not be Mercer, but she wasn’t taking any more chances. When Mercer returned to the marina, she intended to be inside the office building, doing business as usual.
“Just a minute,” Robert said, his tone clipped, and reached for her.
Evie evaded his grasp. “Later,” she said, and hurried up the dock.
He was right behind her when she unlocked the door, but he didn’t have a chance to say anything. Virgil had seen her boat and was slowly making his way across the lot. Robert eyed the old man’s progress; he wouldn’t have time to get any answers out of her before Virgil was there, so it would be better to wait, as she’d said, until later. Once more he controlled his anger and frustration, but the fury in him remained hot. If anything, he was becoming even angrier.
Virgil reached the doorway and gave a sigh of pleasure as the cool air-conditioning washed over him. “Got spoiled in my old age,” he griped. “The heat didn’t used to bother me none.”
