by Brenda Novak
“You have her home number?” he asked, hanging up.
Tank shoved some chips into his mouth. “What did you call?”
“The number she phoned me from yesterday was stored on my cell.”
“The home’s unlisted,” he said, “but Damien would have it.”
“Would he give it to us?”
“Sure, why not?” Tank swallowed the last of his food and grinned. “He might be a stuffy lawyer, but he’s still my brother.”
Leaning far enough forward to set his plate on the coffee table, he grabbed the cordless phone. After a short conversation during which Tank repeatedly said things like, “I just want to talk to her, okay?” and “What does it matter? She’s not your girlfriend anymore,” he handed Harley a number written on a gum wrapper.
“Thanks,” Harley said.
“What are friends for?”
Harley cocked an eyebrow at him. “For nearly getting one drowned in the river, if I remember—Hello?”
Lauren had answered.
“It’s me,” he said.
There was a long pause, then, “How did you get this number?”
“I’m familiar with some good, old-fashioned torture techniques. After a few minutes with me your friends and neighbors were more than willing to talk.”
“I can relate to the desperation they must’ve felt to escape from you. What do you want?”
“I want to talk, just like we were going to do last night.”
“Before you robbed a liquor store or whatever you did that got you arrested?”
Robbed a liquor store? This woman had a very vivid imagination. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it wasn’t anything that dramatic.” He was tempted to explain just how undramatic it was, but his pride wouldn’t allow it. He wasn’t about to grovel at Lauren Worthington’s feet, hoping for her approval.
“I understand,” she said. “When something happens a lot it becomes common, everyday. The excitement factor goes down, is that it?”
He remembered saying something to her about the excitement factor in her life and realized she was throwing his words back at him, but he wasn’t in the mood to play games. “As far as I’m concerned, our business together is a completely unrelated issue.”
“I’m afraid I disagree. Your background and character are an important part of the issue, but then, I have a nine-year-old boy to consider.”
“You have my nine-year-old boy.”
Silence.
“Meet me,” he said, softening his voice in hopes that he could still gain her cooperation. Before he decided anything, he wanted to see Brandon, talk to him. Was that so much to ask?
“No.”
He held back a frustrated sigh. “Then I’ll come over there.”
“It won’t do you any good. You won’t be able to get in. We have security.”
“The kind of security I passed with a wave and a smile when I came to the house yesterday?”
“They’re more diligent at night,” she said. “They won’t let you through the gate this time.”
Especially after she called and told them not to. “Then I’ll hop the fence.”
“You’ll be arrested. Again. And this time they’d probably keep you. Stalking a woman is a lot more serious than an unpaid speeding ticket.”
So she’d been playing him. She already knew why he was arrested. “I thought I robbed a liquor store. I’m such a bad guy it’s hard to keep up with all my offenses, huh?”
“You’re probably working your way up.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard most armed robberies start with unpaid speeding tickets. It’s a definite sign of trouble.”
“I’ve already seen enough signs to know you’re trouble, Harley,” she said, but her voice didn’t hold the same bitterness it had when he’d spoken to her at the door. She’d also used his name for the first time. Somehow that encouraged him, made him feel as though she was finally starting to see him as a person instead of the devil incarnate.
“You don’t know anything about me,” he pointed out. “Not really. The only thing you have is your father’s word.”
“And my sister’s experience. Taken together, that’s a pretty strong argument.”
“Haven’t you ever fallen in love, Lauren?” he asked, dropping the sarcasm and defensiveness and stripping it down to a simple, sincere question.
She didn’t answer, and for a fleeting moment he found himself wishing she would. Hadn’t she ever fallen in love? Didn’t she know what it was like to feel so passionately about someone that you simply couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? That you wouldn’t—couldn’t—heed an outside threat to stay away because it was like being asked to stop breathing? If not, she’d never understand, and he’d be wasting his time if he tried to explain it to her. Love wasn’t something that made logical sense.
“Come on,” he said. “I’m only asking for a few minutes. How can you tell a man who’s never seen his son that you won’t even entertain the idea?”
“You should have thought about seeing Brandon ten years ago.”
“I did think about it, dammit.” He felt his irritation with Lauren grow and wished Tank wasn’t in the room. What, did Lauren think leaving Portland had been easy for him? That he’d been able to turn his back on his child without a second thought? He hadn’t had a serious relationship since Audra. Hadn’t even wanted one. It was as though that part of him, the capacity to love, had stayed behind. “I offered to marry Audra, but your father wouldn’t hear of it,” he admitted.
A slight pause. “You ran out on my sister. For money. I hardly call that a marriage proposal,” she said, now sounding tentative, wary.
“She wanted two things that couldn’t exist together—me and her father’s support. Your father put conditions on his support, and you know what she chose.”
“So you ran.”
She was still looking for easy answers, still wanting to place the blame neatly on his back and walk away—with his son.
“No, I asked her to leave with me. But she wouldn’t turn her back on Daddy and his wallet.” Harley shoved a hand through his hair. He hated dredging up the past, resurrecting old, better-forgotten feelings, but he’d known what this trip would cost before he came. If it was penitence and remorse Lauren wanted to hear, he had plenty of that to spare.
“Listen, she clung to safety and security, and I guess I can’t blame her,” he went on. “I had nothing to give her.” Except his heart, he added silently. But that hadn’t been nearly enough for the spoiled Audra.
“You’re lying,” Lauren said, but the pitch of her voice had changed and at last Harley sensed some uncertainty. “She loved you.”
After ten years, he’d begun to doubt that Audra’s feelings had ever rivaled his own. When Brandon was only a few weeks old, she’d dropped by his mother’s house, without the baby, and given Beverly the birth details. But then his mother’s lover had left her and she’d immediately packed up and moved to California to be close to Harley. And neither of them had heard from Audra since.
“She might have loved me a little, but she loved her lifestyle more,” he said.
Silence again.
“I know she’s gone now, and I’m sorry for that, Lauren,” he continued, “but if you could be big-minded enough to remember how she really was instead of seeing her as some kind of saint, I think you’d realize that I’m on the level.”
Nothing. Had he made her angry? Or was she capable of being as fair as he was asking her to be? “Lauren?”
“Meet me at Thai Basil,” she said at last.
“That’s another restaurant?”
“Yeah, at the corner of Twelfth and Yamhill. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting,” he said.
“I just hope it won’t be in a car with red and blue lights.”
HARLEY WAS ALREADY at the restaurant when Lauren arrived. She recognized his sleek black motorcycle as soon as she got out of her car—only this time there was a shin
y burgundy-colored helmet sitting on the seat.
Nervously smoothing the denim skirt she’d chosen to wear, along with a white cotton blouse and a pair of high-heeled sandals, she took a deep breath. She’d thought that adding a few inches to her height might lend her some courage, but she was still only five foot six and mere inches weren’t enough to compensate for the fear rushing through her veins.
She eyed the restaurant as though it was something dark and threatening. What if everything Harley had told her on the phone about Audra and her father was a lie intended to manipulate her?
In that case, she was letting him make a fool of her. She’d certainly regret it and would definitely pay for it later.
But what if he was telling the truth?
This morning Chief Wilson had said that Harley had been picked up for an unpaid speeding ticket, posted bond and been released, which hardly made him a dangerous criminal. She’d taken Brandon to Kimberly’s, just to be safe, but the fact that Harley hadn’t done anything seriously wrong—and that he hadn’t touted the reason for his arrest when he’d spoken to her on the phone, despite her baiting—lent him some credibility. Problem was, if Harley had actually tried to do right by Audra and she’d refused him because of her father’s intervention, maybe Harley wasn’t such a bad guy. And if he wasn’t such a bad guy, then Lauren couldn’t conscionably—
Whoa, slow down, she cautioned herself, pinching the bridge of her nose as if she could physically clear the thoughts from her mind. Not such a bad guy is a pretty far cry from decent human being.
Either way, she couldn’t really walk away without hearing him out, could she?
Hesitating, she glanced between her car and the restaurant. Once she entered Thai Basil, there’d be no turning back. Once she walked in, she’d cross that invisible line between Harley and her family, and in doing so betray her sister’s memory and her father’s wishes.
If only her father was here to finish what had been started eleven years ago. She’d taken care of Brandon for most of his life, even when he was a baby and she was still in her senior year of high school. But she didn’t know the gritty details of what had happened between Audra and Harley. She and her sister had never been close. Audra hadn’t confided in her. Their father had run interference and concealed as many of the facts as he could—because he was so terribly disappointed in Audra and embarrassed that a daughter of his would involve herself with someone like Harley, and do the other things she did.
But now her father was half a world away, and Lauren’s conscience was dictating that she at least hear what Brandon’s father had to say. For Brandon, if not for Harley.
Throwing back her shoulders, she took a firm hold on her purse and went inside, where the inviting aroma of lemongrass, basil and curry wafted around her and Oriental music played softly in the background.
Even before her eyes could adjust to the dim lighting, Harley was beside her, telling the hostess they were together. He gently clasped her elbow, guiding her to a table in the far corner, then pulled out her chair and took his seat across from her. “Thanks for coming,” he said.
He’d spoken only three words, and already Lauren wanted to bolt. Was it because he sounded so sincere, so relieved that she’d agreed to meet him? She didn’t want to soften. She felt infinitely safer and more comfortable hiding behind what she’d believed to be true for so long. But it wasn’t fair to remain purposely blind, deaf and dumb.
“Lauren?”
She’d ducked behind the menu almost the moment she sat down, but lowered it now to look up at him—and immediately wished she hadn’t. He was wearing a simple cotton T-shirt beneath his black leather jacket, a pair of faded jeans and black boots. He wasn’t exactly setting any new fashion trends, but what he lacked in cutting-edge style he compensated for with raw masculinity. His T-shirt pulled across his muscular chest. His jeans molded to his body like a second skin, not because they were tight but because they dipped and curved in all the right places. And he smelled…incredible. Lauren was accustomed to her dates smelling like the cosmetics department at Nordstrom where they no doubt bought their expensive colognes, but Harley’s scent was less artificial, more like…leather and clean clothes, soap and warm skin.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she suddenly announced. She stood up to leave, but he caught her by the wrist.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said, his voice low. “We’re only going to talk.”
She stared down at his hand. His grip didn’t hurt. It felt warm and reassuring, but he quickly let go as though he feared she’d take exception to his touch.
“It just isn’t right,” she said, feeling the pull of the exit and the bliss of ignorance beyond. “It seems like I’m…I don’t know, consorting with the enemy.”
He offered her a tentative smile. “Come on. We’re just having dinner. We’re not consorting. Besides, do I look dangerous to you?” His expression grew sheepish. “Yesterday’s arrest aside, of course.”
Lauren told herself not to return his smile, but the memory of his arrest, funnier in retrospect, combined with the knowledge that it had occurred simply because of a speeding ticket, got the better of her. “I can’t believe you were dragged off right in front of me,” she said with a small laugh. “You certainly have good timing.”
His smile turned into a crooked grin. “Yeah, well it took some work to arrange it. Not everyone can manage to get arrested in front of the one person it’s in their best interests to impress.” The look of chagrin reappeared. “I’m never going anywhere without my helmet again.”
“It doesn’t seem like you to be cautious,” she said, fidgeting with the back of the chair.
“No, it seems like you.” He gazed up at her, now serious, and Lauren understood his meaning. He thought she was being too narrow minded—and maybe she was.
“I just want what’s best for Brandon.”
“And I’d die before I let anything hurt him.”
Lauren told herself that of course he’d say something so reassuring. He was trying to win her confidence. But the sincerity in his voice convinced her. There was something about Harley Nelson that begged her to believe in him, if only a little. Why he affected her that way, she couldn’t fathom, not after what had happened to Audra.
“I ordered some chardonnay,” he said when the waitress appeared carrying a bottle of wine. “I thought you might like a glass.” He nodded toward the chair. “That is, if you’re going to sit back down and eat with me.”
Lauren looked from Harley to the waitress. If she didn’t leave now, she knew she might regret it for the rest of her life…but she couldn’t make herself walk away from the hope in his eyes.
“I’ll stay,” she said. There wasn’t anything wrong with spending an hour or so in Harley’s company. If he was everything her father said, their time together wouldn’t change the situation. And Quentin Worthington was rarely wrong.
Harley seemed to relax when she took her seat again. He smiled at her, but Lauren almost asked him to stop. That smile brought memories of silly schooldays, when she and Kimberly used to write notes to each other gushing about how handsome he was and speculating on whether or not they’d pass him in the halls after their next class. One time, at a school dance, Harley had crossed the floor, coming toward her, and Lauren was sure he meant to dance with her. Her breath caught, her stomach filled with butterflies. Then he’d extended his hand to the girl behind her.
Why had she remembered that? What could it possibly matter now?
“What’s good here?” Harley asked, studying the menu.
“I like the Pad Thai and the chicken-and-coconut-milk soup.”
“Should we get the Chicken Satay as an appetizer?”
“If you want. We’re not on a date,” she said, more sharply than she’d intended.
He scowled. “What is it with you? Is having a little bit of fun going to betray everything you’ve ever known?”
“No. Meeting with you is.”
“Well,
we’re meeting already, so we might as well enjoy ourselves, provided you know how.”
“I know how to have fun,” she replied, wishing she didn’t sound so defensive. “It’s just that I’m sitting across from the man who got my sister pregnant and has suddenly reappeared out of nowhere to threaten what I love most. What’s fun about that?”
He stared at her for a long time, and again Lauren regretted sounding so harsh. What was it about Harley that knocked her off her balance? One minute she thought she was being too kind to him. The next she thought she was being too cruel. She couldn’t seem to pick a lane.
“Tell me something,” he said. “What would you do if you were me?”
Lauren didn’t answer. She didn’t want to look at things from his perspective, knew instinctively that it would only undermine her resolve.
“Lauren?”
“I don’t know,” she said impatiently. “I guess I wouldn’t have left. I would’ve stayed around so I could know my son.”
He cupped a hand to his ear. “What? I can’t hear you for the silver spoon in your mouth.”
“We’re talking about character, not privilege or money,” she retorted, curling her fingernails into her palms because she knew she wasn’t being completely honest. She was well aware of his situation ten years ago—eighteen years old, penniless, the fatherless son of an alcoholic mother. With her own powerful father doing his best to shut him out, and Audra falling in line behind Quentin, what could Harley have done? Would anyone have stuck around in the face of all that?
“We’re talking about a lack of options,” he clarified.
The waitress approached to take their order. Lauren kept her eyes on her wine, slowly turning her glass by the stem while Harley ordered pad thai and soup for her, yellow curry chicken for himself and the chicken satay as an appetizer for them both.
When they were alone again, Lauren folded her hands in her lap and shot him a glance. “Maybe you didn’t have a lot of options back then,” she said, “but you were old enough to know what made a baby. Why didn’t you use any birth control?”
His gaze never wavered. “I was so crazy about her that it might not have mattered, but for what it’s worth, Audra told me she was on the pill.”
