Assignment: Marriage

by Jackie Merritt

  “What’s so great about love?” he shot back at her. “All it does is bind two people together when they’d probably each be better off alone.”

  “So sayeth the wizard,” she drawled in a scathing tone. “I suppose you have firsthand experience to back up that statement?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  She waited, but he said no more. “I should have known you wouldn’t talk about it. But tell me this, Hannigan. What do you do when you’re through with a woman? Do you bother with goodbyes, or do you just vanish into thin air?” She laughed derogatorily and took another swallow of her martini. “Guess I’ll find out, won’t I?”

  His eyes were dark gray and bottomless. “You don’t have any reason to attack me like this. I didn’t force you into anything. You got exactly what you wanted.”

  “Kind devil, aren’t you?”

  The waitress appeared with her pad and pencil. “Ready to order?”

  “Yes,” Tuck said before Nicole could answer. “I’ll have a T-bone steak, medium rare, a baked potato and a salad with oil and vinegar dressing.”

  The woman looked at Nicole. “I’ll have another double martini,” she said grimly.

  Tuck’s jaw clenched. “Bring the lady a hamburger and french fries.” He knew she liked burgers and fries, because she’d bought them on the trip from Vegas to Idaho. “Bring her some coffee, too, and I’d like a refill.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  Nicole smiled sweetly. “Trying to save me from myself?”

  “You’re drinking on an empty stomach and we’re going to be on the road very soon. I’d rather you weren’t sick, if you don’t mind.”

  Her smile turned into a glare. “Maybe you’d like to return to that motel and have one more go at me before we leave.”

  “Dammit, Nicole, that’s enough!”

  “Go to hell,” she muttered, and tossed back the rest of her drink.

  “You’re behaving like a child,” he said with pronounced disgust.

  “You’re not,” she shot back. “You’re behaving like every woman’s worst nightmare.” She leaned forward to snap, “Do you think I fall into bed with every man who hints that I should? Didn’t you know what you were doing to me, or didn’t you care?”

  He put his elbow on the table and his forehead into his hand, rubbing it wearily with his fingertips. “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry you got hurt. I’m sorry I ever touched you.”

  “Not as sorry as I am,” she said bitterly. Her second drink was delivered, and she immediately picked it up for a swallow. She was beginning to feel the effects of the strong drinks. Her mind was swimming and her mouth wasn’t working well. She hadn’t overindulged since her college days, and it was true what she’d told Tuck about disliking hard liquor. Making a fool of herself by getting drunk seemed to somehow be a method of getting back at Tuck, which even she knew was a pretty sad commentary on her state of mind.

  But she was hurt and angry and frustrated. Why had Tuck evaded conversation with her at the motel? How could he be so crass as to make unbelievably passionate love with her and then act as though she should forget it the minute it was over? She wanted to hurt him as he’d hurt her, and didn’t know how to accomplish it. Deep down she knew her argumentative attitude was only making him withdraw even more, but she couldn’t be nice to him, she just couldn’t.

  When a cup of coffee was set in front of her, she alternated sips of it with sips of the martini. Then their food was delivered, and she ate a few french fries while Tuck hungrily consumed his steak. That infuriated her, too, him sitting there eating as though everything was just great in his world.

  Maybe it was, she thought with a pang of utter agony. After all, who was she but an interlude in his life, a break from his ordinary routines?

  He saved your life, a voice in her head said with painful distinction. Yes, he’d saved her life, more than once, to be factual. And God knew she was grateful. But did he have to make her fall in love with him in the process?

  She suddenly felt defeated and broken. Nothing she could say or do was going to make him love her. It didn’t work that way. No woman could make a man fall in love with her, not by sleeping with him and certainly not by haranguing him. Shoving the unfinished martini aside, she nibbled at her hamburger.

  Tuck glanced up and saw what was happening. Her defeated expression was a hundred times more effective at making him feel like a horse’s rear end than her anger and cutting words could ever have been.

  Thoughtfully he finished his meal. Nicole didn’t deserve the silent treatment from him. He felt a great deal for her. Maybe it was love, maybe it wasn’t. He shouldn’t be so reticent with her. A little conversation wouldn’t kill him.

  But not here, not in a public place. He would do his talking in the car.

  He laid his napkin on the table. “Let me know when you’re through eating,” he said, simply because her disinterest in the food on her plate was so obvious.

  Nicole pushed her plate away. “I’m through now.”

  “Would you like anything else? Some dessert?”

  “No, I’m finished.”

  “Then we’ll leave.” Picking up the check, Tuck got out of the booth and walked over to the cash register.

  Nicole slid from the booth and headed for the ladies’ room. Washing her hands, she noticed their tremor. Her head was dizzy from those drinks and she felt like an idiot. Tuck had been right to call her behavior childish; she had never in her life done anything so outlandish.

  Sighing, she dried her hands on a paper towel. It wasn’t going to be easy, but she had to stop thinking of Tuck in her future. It wasn’t going to happen, and the sooner she faced and accepted that fact, the better off she would be.

  Time suddenly entered her mind. They had left Vegas… when? And what was today? How long had they been together? Long enough for her to truly fall in love, or was she merely infatuated with Hannigan’s tough and sexy exterior?

  Whatever, she had made enough of a fool out of herself for one day. Tuck would hear no more snide remarks from her, nor any questions. She did have some pride left, after all.

  They were at least twenty miles into their trip south when Tuck said out of the blue, “Nicole, I was married once.”

  Startled, her head came around slowly to see him. He was looking straight ahead, as though the road would vanish if he didn’t stare at it. She honestly didn’t know what to say, though the questions she had promised herself not to ask him anymore were again stacking up in her mind.

  “I had a son,” he said quietly. “He died of pneumonia when he was only a few months old.”

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered, closing her eyes at the onslaught of pain she felt for what he must have suffered.

  “I was divorced shortly after,” he said.

  She couldn’t stay silent any longer. “How long were you married?”

  “Three years. It wasn’t a good marriage from the start, and after Timmy’s death there just didn’t seem to be any point to keep on trying.”

  “Why wasn’t it a good marriage? You must have loved her to marry her.”

  “I did, but it didn’t last. Nicole, there’s something you have to understand. The divorce rate among police officers is very high. Most cops work crazy hours. Wives never know for sure when their husbands will be home. Countless dinners are either warmed up or thrown out. Children wait for their fathers to come home and, with conflicting schedules, sometimes don’t see them for days. Some wives can’t live with the worry. Their men face danger day after day, and it preys on their minds. I’ve seen it happen again and again. Cops like being cops, and a lot of wives can’t understand that and end up hating their husbands’ career. The breach gets wider and wider until there’s no way to bridge it.”

  “Is that what happened with you and your wife?”

  “It was part of it.” He didn’t want to bring up Jeanie’s running around and leaving their ill infant son with a neighborhood teenager. “
There were other things, but that was part of it,” he repeated.

  “Are you saying there are no good marriages in the department?”

  Tuck sent her a startled look. “No. Some of the guys I work with have very solid marriages. But their wives are different, Nicole. They don’t spend every waking moment worrying about their husbands getting killed by some dope head. I know one couple in particular that I have a great deal of admiration for. Kelly—that’s the wife—told me that when they were first married, she never slept a night through when Ray was on night duty. But then one day she realized that she was making herself—and Ray—miserable. She’s an intelligent woman and made the decision then and there to stop worrying.”

  “She must be very strong.”

  “She is, but she’s a rare case, Nicole. Too many wives simply can’t deal with the stress.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “You said you wanted me to talk about myself.”

  “Yes, but after…” She drew a breath. “Well, I never expected you to do it. I’m terribly sorry about your son. I can’t imagine anything worse than losing a child.”

  “It’s been more than ten years now,” he said, indicating that time had diminished his grief.

  He looked tired, Nicole realized. Instead of resting, they had made love. Not just today, but last night, as well. If that was the end of it for him, why had he decided to tell her about himself?

  “You confuse me,” she said with a despondent sigh. Her head was aching, a result of that silly impulse to drink lunch instead of eating it.

  “Probably,” Tuck agreed. Why wouldn’t she be confused? Rattled was an even better word. She’d been forced to leave her home and to accept him as her protector and companion. Then, instead of maintaining a sensible distance between them, he’d made pass after pass. Being the kind of woman she was, she had construed his attentions and her own response as love.

  Well, maybe it was love, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be in love. His own personal problems weren’t completely settled in his mind, though without question he’d proved himself at the lake cabin. He was still a cop and a damned good one. His instincts were as keen as they’d ever been. There was only one thing about the events at the cabin that kept him uneasy: he hadn’t pulled the trigger on that thug with the bomb. Would he have done so before the convenience store killings?

  Nicole was still thinking about confusion. “Are you feeling confused, too?” she asked.

  “About us?”

  “Yes, about us.”

  He shot her a glance, then heaved a sigh. “More than you could possibly know.”

  Tuck took Highway 93 south and they drove into Jackpot, Nevada, around seven that evening. To Nicole’s surprise, he pulled into the parking lot of a large hotel-casino.

  “We’ll stay here tonight,” he announced, turning off the ignition.

  “I thought we’d be driving straight through. Won’t Captain Crawford be expecting us?”

  “I told him on the phone not to expect us until sometime tomorrow. We’ll get a good night’s sleep and start the last leg of the trip in the morning. We’ll be in Vegas before tomorrow night.”

  Nicole let him make all the decisions without offering any suggestions. He rented two rooms, again side-by-side. They brought their things in and then went to one of the casino’s restaurants for dinner. This time Nicole ate—she ordered Chinese food, which turned out to be exceptionally good— instead of playing childish games with martinis. It was only about nine when they walked back to their rooms and said good-night in the corridor. Tuck went into his room and Nicole into hers. She was positive he wouldn’t knock on the connecting door tonight, and he didn’t. She showered, got into her pajamas and went to bed.

  It was then, while she was lying there awaiting sleep, that she recognized Tuck’s earlier conversation for what it was: his way of discouraging her interest in him. Maybe because her brain had been a little woozy from her liquid lunch, she hadn’t grasped his motive for suddenly sharing part of himself with her. The divorce rate is high among cops. Most wives can’t live with the stress.

  Nicole angrily punched her pillow. She was too damned gullible to be believed. That had been her opening to bring the generalities he was spouting down to one specific cop— him. Instead, she had gotten soppy-eyed over the death of his infant son and then let Hannigan ramble on about how tough it was for cops to maintain relationships. The one intelligent question she’d asked—weren’t there any stable marriages in the department?—he had stumbled over his own tongue in describing how different the wives were in those successful liaisons. Which was a slap in the face, wasn’t it? Indicating that she was much too emotional, or some damned thing, to ever be a cop’s wife.

  He was a jerk. Worse, he was a sexual opportunist, taking advantage of her fear and of his role as a big, strong protector. Of course she had turned to him. He’d probably known in advance that would happen.

  Well, he needn’t worry about her bothering him once she was on her own turf again. Even if they should run into each other accidentally, which wasn’t very likely, her reaction would be as cool and distant as she could make it.

  In the darkness of her room, tears gathered in her eyes and she angrily brushed them away. She had lived without Tuck Hannigan in her life for a good many years and she certainly could do so again. To hell with him. He was nothing but a heartbreaker. Who needed it?

  Tuck had showered and gotten into bed, but as exhausted as his body was, his mind wouldn’t shut down.

  Did he love Nicole or had he made love to her because she was sexy, beautiful and handy? He wasn’t comfortable with that idea, but it was a possibility.

  If that were the case, what did it make him? Not that he hadn’t taken women to bed without feeling guilty about it afterward. But those women had known the score beforehand. Nicole was not a one-night-stander, even if he was.

  His lips thinned. Was that what his life had come down to, a series of one-night stands? True, they’d been few and far between, but not since his marriage had he permitted himself to feel anything for a woman.

  This was not a subject he’d given any thought to before tonight, and he didn’t like it, probably because it smacked of some discomfiting truths about himself. He was not a happy man, nor could he remember when happiness had been more than a word to him. His thoughts became confused and disoriented as bits and pieces of his life flashed through his mind. He could feel himself sinking deeper into a morass of depression and loneliness.

  Finally one clear thought seeped into his brain: he had to talk to someone, a professional. Dr. Laura Keaton would do. He would contact her office for an appointment when he got home.

  Thirteen

  Wearing her last pair of clean jeans and a simple white blouse, Nicole slid into the booth in the hotel-casino’s coffee shop. Tuck was already there, drinking coffee and waiting to order breakfast until she arrived. She had called his room and asked him to meet her there. “There’s something I have to do, but I won’t be long, maybe fifteen, twenty minutes.”

  He’d agreed. She didn’t need his company for reasons of safety now, but he did wonder what her errand or task was.

  As soon as they had ordered breakfast, she told him about it, coolly and while looking directly into his eyes across the table. “I’m flying home from here. I chartered a small plane. I’m using the cash given to me the night we left Vegas, along with my own credit card, to pay for the flight. I’ll be leaving in—” she checked her watch “—forty-five minutes.”

  Her expression said clearly, Are you going to try to stop me?

  His stomach turned over. If that determined glint in her eyes was any measure, there was only one way to stop her, and he couldn’t use physical force on Nicole.

  “Well,” he said tonelessly, “you’re a free agent. Do whatever you want.”

  “I intend to,” she said coldly.

  Breakfast was delivered and they ate it in stony silence. Tuck picked up
the check. “Do you have your suitcase stashed somewhere, or is it still in your room?”

  They got to their feet. “It’s in my room.”

  “Wait while I pay, and I’ll walk with you.”

  “Why?”

  “You have enough time. Just wait,” he demanded sharply, speaking through clenched teeth. During their silent breakfast his system had gone haywire, mixing disappointment with anger, self-reproach with resentment of Nicole’s attitude. He had wanted today with her, hours together in the car. Maybe by the time they had reached Vegas, they would have been on better terms. She had neatly destroyed his last opportunity to let her know…

  Let her know what? That he had deeply rooted feelings for her and just didn’t know how to express them?

  After paying the check, they trudged through the casino to the hotel lobby and then down the long corridor that led to their rooms.

  It was only when Nicole was fitting her key into the lock on her door that Tuck finally spoke. “I’ll be calling Joe Crawford to let him know you’ll be flying in.”

  She pushed the door open and turned to face him. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  His expression darkened. “How in hell would you know what is or isn’t necessary?”

  Her eyes blazed with sudden fury. “I’ve had about all of your overbearing, better-than-thou tactics I can take. Just because I’m not a cop doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain. Suppose you get off your high horse for two minutes and explain why calling Captain Crawford is necessary.”

  “Because he’s expecting you to arrive with me!”

  “Don’t you dare shout at me! There are people around, you…you cretin!”