Twelve Nights of Temptation

by Barbara Dunlop

  “Calm down. It’s not that exciting.”

  He hit the remote to unlock the doors. “You’re positive somebody wasn’t messing with your battery?”

  “I’m positive. It’s unrelated. And if we try to link it in, we’ll set ourselves off in the wrong direction.”

  Matt thought about her logic for a moment. “Okay. Now you’re the one who’s right.”

  She cracked a smile. “Thank goodness I’m evening things up.”

  He opened the driver’s door while she did the same on the passenger side.

  “But I’m not wrong,” he pointed out.

  “Maybe a little bit.”

  “Maybe not at all. I just asked a question. Postulating something is not the same as being incorrect about it.”

  “You’re right,” she said and plunked into the seat.

  He leaned down to look through his open door. “That’s two for me.”

  She was smiling as she buckled her seat belt.

  He started the engine, turned down the music and pulled out of the parking lot.

  The temperature was in the fifties, but the interior heated up quickly, and Tasha unzipped her fitted gray leather jacket. She wore a purple tank top beneath it over a boxy pair of faded blue jeans and brown Western-style boots. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail. It was mostly brunette, but it flashed with amber highlights as they drove.

  She looked casual and comfortable, sexy at the same time. He liked it. He liked it a lot.

  “Nobody I talked to knew anything,” she said. “Nothing weird going on out there in the broader Whiskey Bay mechanical world.”

  “So the marina is the target.”

  “That would be my guess. Or it’s a couple of coincidences. It could still be that.”

  He didn’t disagree. He hoped it was a couple of coincidences. “I’m going to check out my competition.”

  “How?”

  “’Tis the season. There are a lot of gatherings and parties coming up. The business community likes to celebrate together.”

  “I remember.”

  “Were you here last year?”

  She’d been working at the marina only since March.

  “I was talking about the business community anywhere. It was the same while I was growing up.”

  “You went to corporate Christmas parties?” He tried to picture it.

  “I read about them,” she continued, quickly. “They sounded...posh and snooty and boring.”

  He laughed at how she wrinkled her nose. “They’re not bad. They are fancy. But some of the people are interesting.”

  She gave a derisive scoff.

  “Hey, I’m one of those people. Am I that bad?”

  “In some ways, yes.”

  “What ways?” He tried not to let her opinion get to him.

  “The way you dress. The way you talk.”

  “What’s wrong with the way I talk?”

  She seemed to think about that. “It’s clear and precise, with very little slang. You have a wide vocabulary.”

  “I’m not seeing the problem.”

  “It sounds posh.”

  “What about you?”

  She was easily as articulate as him.

  “I’m perfectly ordinary.”

  She wasn’t. But he wasn’t going to get into that argument right now.

  “And so are the people at the corporate parties. You shouldn’t be biased against them.” He slowed the car and turned from the highway down his long driveway that wound through the woods.

  “I can’t stand those frilly, frothy dresses, those pretentious caviar and foie gras canapés, and the ceaseless conversation about who’s making partner and the who’s marrying who.”

  He wasn’t about to admit she’d nailed it—at least when it came to some of the guests at those parties.

  “You shouldn’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” he said instead.

  “You’re right.”

  He chuckled. “And I’ve hit the trifecta.”

  Then the headlights caught his house. He blinked to check his vision on what he thought he saw there. His stomach curled. It couldn’t be.

  “Who’s that?” Tasha asked as the car came to a stop.

  Matt shut off the engine. “My ex-wife.”

  Tasha gazed through the windshield. “So that’s her.”

  “I take it you haven’t met her?”

  “I only saw her from a distance. She didn’t seem to be around much.”

  Those last few months, his ex had used any excuse to travel.

  “She liked France,” he said. “She still likes France. There’s a man there.”

  “Oh,” Tasha said with obvious understanding.

  “Yeah.” Matt released his seat belt. “I can’t even imagine what she’s doing back here.”

  He and Tasha both stepped out of the car.

  “Hello, Dianne,” he said as he approached the lit porch.

  Her dark hair was pulled back from her face with some kind of headband, the ends of her hair brushing her shoulders. She wore a black wool jacket with leather trim, a pair of black slacks and very high heels. Her makeup was perfect, as always. Her mouth was tight. Her eyes narrowed.

  “Where have you been?” she asked. Then her gaze swept Tasha.

  “This is Tasha.” He didn’t like the dismissive expression on Dianne’s face. “She and I have been dancing.”

  He felt Tasha’s look of surprise but ignored it.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked Dianne.

  “I need to speak with you.”

  Her nostrils flared with an indrawn breath. “It’s a private matter.”

  “Well, I’m not about to end my evening early to listen to you.”

  Whatever Dianne had to say to him—and he couldn’t imagine what that might be—it could wait until morning.

  “You can call me tomorrow, Dianne.” He started for the door, gesturing for Tasha to go ahead of him.

  “It’s about François,” Dianne blurted out.

  Matt kept walking.

  Whatever was going on between Dianne and her new husband was completely their business. Matt couldn’t stay far enough away.

  “He left me.”

  Matt paused. “I’m sorry, Dianne. It’s none of my business.”

  “He stole my money.”

  “Matt?” Tasha said with a little tug against his hand.

  “All of my money,” Dianne said.

  “It’ll still wait until morning.” Matt punched in the key code to his front door. “Do you need me to call you a ride?”

  “Matt,” Dianne practically wailed.

  “We’re divorced, Dianne. As I recall, your settlement was more than generous.”

  Matt had only wanted it to be over. Although his lawyer had argued with him, he’d given her everything she’d asked for. It had meant significant refinancing of the marina, but if he worked hard, he’d be back on solid footing within two or three years.

  He retrieved his phone and pulled up his ride app, requesting a car. “Call me tomorrow. I assume you still have my number?”

  “I’m in trouble, Matt,” Dianne said. “Deep trouble.”

  “Then I suggest you call a lawyer.”

  Her voice rose. “I didn’t commit a crime.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Your car will be here in a couple of minutes.”

  He opened the door and Tasha went inside.

  “How can you be so cruel?” Dianne called out from behind him.

  He turned. “How can you have the nerve to ask me to drop everything and deal with your problems? You cheated on me, left me and put my business at risk through your unbridled greed.”r />
  A pair of headlights flashed through the trees.

  “Your ride is here, Dianne.” He stepped through the open door, closing it to then face Tasha.

  * * *

  Matt leaned back against his front door as if he expected his ex-wife to try to break it down.

  “Sorry about that,” he said.

  Tasha wasn’t sure how she should feel about the exchange. She knew divorces could be acrimonious, and Matt was within his rights to stay at arm’s length from his ex-wife, but Dianne had seemed genuinely upset.

  “It sounds like she could use a friend,” Tasha said.

  “Truthfully, it’s hard to know for sure. She’s a drama queen. Her reaction to a fire or a flood is the same as her reaction to a broken fingernail.”

  Tasha tried not to smile. It didn’t seem like there was anything funny in the situation.

  Matt pushed away from the door. “She was supposed to be in France. She was supposed to stay in France. I’d really hoped she’d stay in France forever. I need a drink. Do you want a drink?”

  He started down the short staircase to the glass-walled living room. On the way, he seemed to absently hit a wall switch, and the long fireplace came to life. Fed by gas, it was glassed in on all sides and stretched the length of the living room, separating a kitchen area from a lounge area where white leather armchairs faced a pair of matching sofas.

  Tasha knew she should head home. But she found herself curious about Matt, about Dianne, and she’d been sipping on sodas all night long. A real drink sounded appealing.

  “I’m thinking tequila,” Matt said as he passed one end of the fireplace into the kitchen.

  Tasha threw caution to the wind. “I love margaritas.”

  “Margaritas it is.” He opened a double-doored stainless steel refrigerator. “We have limes.” He held them up. “Glasses are above the long counter. Pick whatever looks good.”

  Feeling happier than she had any right to feel about sharing a drink with Matt, Tasha moved to the opposite end of the kitchen. Near the glass wraparound wall, she opened an upper cupboard, finding a selection of crystal glasses. She chose a pair with deep bowls and sturdy-looking bases.

  “Frozen or on the rocks?” he asked.

  “Frozen.”

  He was cutting limes on an acrylic board. “There should be some coarse salt in the pantry. Through that door.” He pointed with the tip of his knife.

  Tasha crossed behind him to the back of the kitchen.

  The walk-in pantry was impressive. It was large and lined with shelves of staples and exotic treats.

  “Do you like to cook?” she called out to him.

  “It’s a hobby.”

  She located the coarse salt and reemerged. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

  “Why?” He seemed puzzled.

  “Good question.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You seem—” she struggled to put it into words “—like the kind of guy who would have a housekeeper.”

  “I do.”

  “Aha!”

  “She’s not a cook. I decided a long time ago that I couldn’t do everything around here and run a business, too, so I chose to do the things I like the best and give up the things I didn’t enjoy.”

  “What is it you like best?” Tasha helped herself to one of the limes. She’d spotted some small glass bowls in the cupboard and retrieved one for the salt.

  “Cooking, working, the gym.”

  “Dating?” she asked.

  “That’s recent.”

  “But you like it. You do it quite a lot now.”

  “I do, and I do.” He stilled then and seemed to think more about his answer.

  “What?” she prompted.

  “Nothing. That about sums it up.”

  “What about friends?”

  “Caleb and TJ? Sure. I hang with them whenever I can. With them being so close, we don’t really plan anything, we just drop by. It’s kind of like background noise.”

  “Like family,” Tasha mused as she cut the lime in half.

  She’d observed the relationship between the three men. It was as if they were brothers. She’d like to have close relationships like that. But she had absolutely nothing in common with her two sisters.

  “Like family,” Matt agreed. “They’re going to flip when they find out Dianne’s back.”

  “Do you expect her to stick around?”

  It was none of Tasha’s business. And she wasn’t entitled to have an opinion one way or the other. But she liked that Matt was single. After all, a fantasy was fun only if it had an outside chance of coming true.

  The knife slipped, and she cut her finger.

  “Ouch!”

  “What happened?” He was by her side in an instant.

  “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Is it bad?” He gently took her hand. “You’re bleeding.”

  “Just a little. Don’t let me ruin the drinks.”

  He seemed amused by her priority as he reached for a tissue from a box on the counter. “Let’s get you a bandage.”

  “I bet it’ll stop on its own.” She pressed the tissue against the cut.

  “This way.” He took her elbow. “We can’t have you bleeding into the salt.”

  He led her up the steps toward the entry hall, but then veered right, taking her down a long hallway with plush silver-gray carpet. Some of the doors were open, and she saw an office and what looked like a comfortable sunroom.

  “This is nice,” she said.

  They entered one room, and it took her only a second to realize it had to be the master bedroom. She hesitated and stumbled.

  “Careful,” he said.

  “This is...”

  He paused and glanced around at the king-size bed with taupe accents, two leather and polished metal easy chairs, twin white bedside tables and a polished oak floor with geometric-patterned throw rugs. Here, too, there were walls of windows looking across the bay and over the forest.

  “What?” he prompted.

  “Big.” She settled on the word. She wanted to say intimidating, maybe even arousing. She was inside Matt’s bedroom. How had that happened?

  “I know there are bandages in here.” He gestured toward the open door to an en suite.

  She struggled to even her breathing as she entered the bathroom. “This is big, too.”

  “I like my space. And I didn’t need too many bedrooms, so it was easy to go for something big for the master.”

  She moved with him to the sink.

  “Do you want kids?” She had no idea where that question came from.

  He shrugged. “Dianne didn’t want them. I’m easy. I could go either way.” Then he gave a chuckle as he opened the upper cabinet.

  Tasha averted her eyes. Seeing what was in his medicine cabinet seemed far too personal.

  “I figure once I meet Caleb’s twins,” Matt continued, “it’ll either make me want some of my own, or cure me of that idea forever.”

  He set a small bandage on the counter, shut the cabinet and gently removed the tissue from her cut finger.

  “I can do this myself,” she said, feeling the effects of his closeness.

  She liked his smell. She liked his voice. His touch was gentle.

  “Two hands are better than one.” He turned on the water, waited a moment then tested the temperature.

  Tasha could feel her heart tap against her rib cage. Her gaze was caught on his face. He looked inordinately sexy, and amazingly handsome.

  “What about you?” he asked, his attention on her finger as he held it under the warm flow of water.

  “Huh?” She gave herself a mental shake and shifted her gaze.

  “Do
you want kids?”

  “Sure. I suppose so. Maybe.”

  “You haven’t thought about it?”

  She really hadn’t. Her focus had been on her career and making it to the top of her profession. “I guess I’m not in any rush.”

  “Fair enough.” He wrapped the small bandage around the end of her finger and secured it in place. “Good as new.”

  “Thank you.” She made the mistake of looking into his eyes.

  His twinkled, and he smiled at her.

  For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. But instead, he brushed a playful finger across the tip of her nose and stepped back.

  “Our ice is melting,” he said. “We better blend those drinks.”

  * * *

  Sitting across from Dianne at a window table in the Crab Shack, Matt had asked for a water. Now he wished he’d ordered something stronger.

  He hadn’t wanted to meet her at his house. He was steadily working to move forward with his life; he didn’t want to go backward.

  “You gave him control of your entire portfolio?” Matt couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “He had a mansion,” Dianne said, a whine in her tone. “He had a yacht and a jet and memberships at these exclusive clubs. He didn’t even want a prenup. Why wouldn’t I trust him?”

  “Because he was a con artist?”

  She gave a pout. “How was I supposed to know that?”

  “You weren’t,” Matt acknowledged. “What you were supposed to do was keep control of your own assets.” He was appalled that she would be so blindly trusting of anyone.

  “It was all in French,” she said. “I couldn’t understand it. It only made sense for him to take over the details.”

  It sounded like the man had taken over a whole lot more than just the details of her assets. He’d obviously taken complete charge of her money. But Matt wasn’t about to lengthen the debate. He’d agreed to meet Dianne today, but he had no intention of stepping back into her life, no matter what kind of mess she’d made of it. And by the sounds of it, she’d made a pretty big mess.

  Her exotic French husband had taken her money and disappeared, leaving a trail of debts and charges of fraud behind him.

  “So, what are you going to do?” he asked her.

  She opened her eyes wide, and let her lower lip go soft. “I miss you, Matt.”