by Taylor Lee
Titus nodded. “Please.”
Griffin held his gaze. “Like you, sir, I’m a father. I have two children, a son and a daughter. Also like you, my wife left me. But when she did, she took my children from me. Rather than fight for them, I decided that they might be better with their mother than with me. It was a mistake I’ll regret for the rest of my life. Unlike you, Sheriff, your daughters love and honor you. To my children, I’m the father who abandoned them.”
At the sheriff’s studied silence, Griffin decided to go to the issue looming between them. Allowing a smile to touch his lips, he said, “You have a challenging daughter, Sheriff Trouble.”
The sheriff inclined his head in agreement. “I’m aware of that, Mr. Black. And I proudly claim credit for at least some of her willingness to speak her mind—to talk truth to power, if you will.”
Griffin hesitated and, deciding not to take issue with whether Tara’s claims about his work were true, changed the subject. “Regarding what I witnessed this morning . . . and by the way, sir, I’m damn glad I was in that elevator today. If it eases your mind, know that I was humbled by your daughter’s fear. Clearly, something bad happened to her that had a profound effect. For some crazy reason, I happened to be with her when she was frightened out of her mind. Please know that I’m glad I was there, and you should be too.”
Sheriff Trouble blew out an audible sigh. Tossing back the remaining liquid in his glass, he rose to his feet. Nodding in apparent agreement, he said, “Thank you, Griffin, if I may call you that. Knowing that, I will sleep better tonight than I earlier thought I could.”
Without saying good-bye, the enigmatic sheriff strode to the door and closed it firmly behind him.
****
“God, sis, that must have been terrifying. I know how much you hate elevators.”
Glad that she’d agreed to meet her sisters for a late lunch at the Bitter n’ Twisted, Tara nodded in agreement. She was grateful that Tanya and Tatiana didn’t know the origin of her phobia, and if it were up to Tara, they never would. She took a sip of her pinot grigio and ignored the untouched salad in front of her. Knowing that she couldn’t eat it if she wanted to contain the riotous emotions that had her stomach in knots, she minimized her scary experience.
“Yeah, it wasn’t pleasant, Tanya. I’m embarrassed to say that I acted like a bit of an idiot.”
Tatiana shook her head in disagreement. “I know you hate what you think is a weakness, but lots of people don’t like elevators, Tara. I’m impressed that you’ve worked through your uneasiness and are now routinely riding in them.”
In that the likelihood of her ever entering an elevator again was as likely as her climbing Mount Kilimanjaro and that her debilitating fear of elevators topped the “uneasiness” scale by a magnitude of thousands, Tara tried to change the subject. But not soon enough to head off her sisters’ comments about the other passenger in the elevator.
“I know you dislike him, Tara, but from what you describe, it was a good thing that Mr. Black was there. At least you had someone to talk to until the repairmen arrived.”
Fortunately, Tanya spoke up, negating the need for Tara to respond to Tatiana’s wildly off- base conclusion.
Her eyes dancing with delight, Tanya said with an impish drawl, “I dunno, big sis, but if you’ve got to be trapped in an elevator, better that it be that righteous hunk Griffin Black. Damn, what if you’d got stuck with slimy Sledge Perkins or even worse, Mayor Suck-up Watcher? You’d have been pounding on that door, screaming your head off, demanding to get out!”
Given that Tanya had come stunningly close to describing what had actually happened, Tara was more determined than ever to change the subject. Unfortunately, even she couldn’t seem to stay away from the topic on everyone’s mind, including hers. Shrugging, she said, “As much as I’d like to have another glass of wine, I need to meet with Tony Ashkii. As you know, Tony is as opposed to developing Native lands as I am. I want to see if he will write a guest editorial describing his views and why he is fiercely opposed to Black’s project.”
As usual, Tatiana was more guarded in her response than either of her sisters. “I know that you are fiercely opposed to Mr. Black’s development, Tara, but given some of the things I’ve read about him, I wonder if he isn’t more complicated, maybe not as much of a land-grabber as you think.”
Tara sniffed. “You must have been reading some of his press releases, Tatiana. God knows he has an army of sophisticated public relations flacks. If you buy into their garbage, you’d think that he is the second coming of Christ instead of a charlatan out to destroy Native culture as well as their land.”
“Hmm, Tara, I don’t usually argue with your conclusions; you are so much more knowledgeable than I am about these issues. But in this case, I wonder if you aren’t painting Mr. Black a little too simplistically. Yes, he is a successful developer. And he certainly doesn’t share your views about the environment. But I’ve heard that a number of tribes in Oklahoma are big supporters of his.”
Tara blew out an audible sigh. “Go ahead and say it, Tatiana. You think I have my head up my butt when it comes to environmental issues.” She conceded, “I admit, I’m a bit of a fanatic. I’ll even go so far as to agree there are tribes that sing Black’s praises. I’m also aware that there is serious disagreement among tribal members as to whether their land needs to be held collectively by the tribes or redistributed to individual members. Unfortunately, in my view and the views of people like me, no matter how well intentioned corporations or free-market reformers like Black are, their actions disregard Indian cultures and values. Why do you think thousands of Native American protesters are fighting against the proposed construction of the Dakota Access pipeline in North Dakota? They are doing more than just trying to protect their land. They are fighting for their culture—and, many argue, for their future.”
Seeing the consternation on both of her sister’s faces, Tara decided to pull it back a bit. “Look, I know—I know that I seem rabid when it comes to Black. It’s just that not only is he trafficking in tribal lands, but for God’s sake, look who he’s hooking up with in our community. None other than the slimy, race-baiting, white supremacist Sledge Perkins! That fact alone cries out for further investigation and should make all thoughtful Sierra Vista citizens sit up and take notice. At least ask questions.”
Neither of her sisters responded, but at least it seemed as though she was making a credible argument. Tara said, “You’ll be glad to know that I’m rethinking some of my positions. Not that I would ever support Black outright. But I have talked to enough Native leaders and other officials who think that he is God’s gift to the tribes and the states he works in to decide that I’m going to publish a number of guest editorials—some supportive of Black and some opposed.”
Tanya’s eyes widened. “Wow, Tara, that’s as close to a concession as I’ve ever heard from you.” At Tara’s furrowed frown, she clarified“I understand you haven’t changed your positions, but the fact that you are going to give voice to different opinions is a bit of a breakthrough.”
Before she could respond, Tatiana agreed. “Honestly, Tara, I’m glad to hear you say that you are going to present a range of positions. I, for one, don’t think it is a black and white issue.” She smiled softly. “No pun intended.”
Tanya studied her and then tossed Tara a mischievous grin. “Not that I’m a conspiracy theorist, but given how strongly you’re opposed to Mr. Black—at least to his development track record—I’m wondering if more happened in that elevator than you’re letting on.”
Knowing her cheeks had to be beet red, Tara tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the table and rose to her feet. “I need to get back to the office. That’s for my lunch even though I didn’t eat it.” Looking over her shoulder, she drilled Tanya with a hard gaze. “And no, little sister, nothing happened in the elevator that did anything to change my mind about the infamous Mr. Black.”
Striding through the tavern, ignoring the
misogynist catcalls from the usual suspects who seemingly lived at the Bitter n’ Twisted, Tara fought back a shiver. Remembering Tanya’s teasing taunt, she snorted. Right, the notorious Mr. Black hadn’t done anything except turn her fucking life upside down. And become one of a minuscule number of people who knew that at base, she was as demented as many of her enemies thought she was.
****
“I heard you had a visitor, Griffin. And not just any visitor. The honorable Titus Theseus Trouble, sheriff of Cochise County, no less. Is the sheriff as formidable as Jia claimed?”
Griffin smiled at his partner. “Yeah, Magnus, Jia is on-target. The sheriff is an impressive guy.”
When he didn’t continue, Magnus pressed on. “C’mon, man, what did the modern-day Wyatt Earp want? Did he come to tell you that you need to be more respectful to his rabble-rousing daughter? That nice men don’t argue with young women in public?”
When Griffin just shrugged, Magnus’s eyes lit up and he moved in closer. “Or wait just a minute. Is it a coincidence that the mighty sheriff showed up a couple of hours after you and that gorgeous daughter of his were holed up in an elevator that supposedly got stuck? Which leads me to a question. What the hell happened in that elevator? Ms. Trouble looked positively undone. What did you do to her, Griff? Or, given what a feisty woman she is, maybe a better question is what did she do to you? I’d be surprised if she didn’t try to tear down the doors rather than be stuck with her archenemy.”
“Sorry, Magnus. Your imagination is getting away with you. The sheriff was just being neighborly. As for Ms. Trouble looking undone, she was carrying a boatload of files that fell to the floor when the elevator landed. I was just helping her pick them up.”
Settling back in his chair, Griffin said nonchalantly, “However, I’ve been thinking. I might just invite the challenging Gazette editor to our Friday night bash. In that the purpose is to introduce the state’s makers and shakers to our project, it might not hurt to have a naysayer or two in the crowd. We don’t want to appear as though we are unwilling to deal with criticism.”
Magnus looked as though he was going to come back with one of his smart-assed remarks but seemed to change his mind. “That’s not a bad idea, Griffin. As LBJ said about J. Edgar Hoover, ‘Hell, it’s better to have him,’ or in this case, her, ‘inside the tent pissing out than outside the tent pissing in.’ ” His eyes danced with amusement when he added, “Besides, I don’t know a party I’ve been to that wouldn’t be better with the presence of one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen.”
Griffin met Magnus’s grin with one of his own and said with a wink, “And yes, there is that.”
Chapter 6
Tara stared at the text, her stomach twisting in a knot. Her first thought was to question how he’d gotten her personal telephone number. But given how casual their office was, she conceded any of the Gazette secretaries would have gladly given the raffish Mr. Black any information he requested. Even if it allowed him to invade her privacy. Deciding that the damage was done, she forced herself to focus on the message. “I’m hosting a reception at the Oaks Country Club Friday evening. I hope that you will attend—as my guest.”
Tara struggled with her emotional reaction. God, she’d almost gotten to the point where the hideous elevator experience wasn’t front and center in her mind. She’d actually been able to focus on the series of guest editorials she was preparing to publish. The presumptuousness of Black’s invitation startled her. Clearly, he was rubbing it in her face what a fool she had made of herself. She snorted. Just because she’d acted like a first-class freak didn’t mean that she didn’t have any pride. But apparently, the arrogant Mr. Black thought that he had thoroughly compromised her and he now had the upper hand in their challenging relationship. When she allowed herself to think back on the devastating experience in the elevator, she had to admit she truly might have gone out of her mind if the compelling man hadn’t been there. In her more charitable moments, she even conceded that he’d been kind.
Glancing at the text, she knew that, no doubt, Black had told his haughty office staff what a loon she was. They must have decided why not have a little fun with the crazed editor. All the better to go after her in public. And at a high-level event attended by the state’s bigwigs who were all but begging to get down on their hands and knees to kiss the conceited man’s ass. Struggling with her myriad emotions, Tara finally broke through her machinations and decided that she would take him up on his dare. It wasn’t as though she wasn’t accustomed to being the odd man out—the rabble-rouser that everyone steered clear of, hoping to avoid getting caught in her wild conspiracy theories.
“Hey, Ethan, how would you like to go to a party with me?”
Tara had the decency to be embarrassed when the soft-spoken man eagerly responded to her underhanded invitation.
“My goodness, Tara, you know I would never refuse the opportunity to go anywhere with you. Thank you for the invite. What party and where?”
Tara tried to downplay how threatening the party was to her well-being, not wanting to admit that she needed a foil to protect her from the man who was determined to challenge her at her core.
“Apparently, the arrogant Mr. Black is throwing a high-level bash at the Oaks on Friday night. No doubt to flash his wares with the local folks and underscore how lucky we are that he has chosen our town to invade.”
“And we’re invited?”
Not able to be more duplicitous than she already was, Tara said, “Well, he sent me an invitation, but I’m sure it was intended for the Gazette staff. As our attorney, you’re obviously included.”
Ethan smiled at her, then said in a skeptical tone, “Hmm, I’m not so sure about that, Tara. Hank mentioned that he’d heard about the party, but he’ll be in Los Angeles. I think you’re the only one Black invited.”
Tara sniffed. “Obviously, he is taunting me, but who cares? Free booze and snotty hors d’oeuvres, why the heck not? And of course you are invited. Besides, you are more polite than I am. Maybe you can keep me from making a bigger fool of myself than I already have with the arrogant Mr. Black.”
Ignoring Ethan’s questioning frown, Tara quickly ended the conversation, wondering if she’d made a mistake thinking that she could pull off an event with Black, even with Ethan as a foil.
Three days later, she conceded that “mistake” didn’t begin to describe the self-inflicted mess she was in. Glaring at herself in the mirror, she wished she had a rock to throw at the glassy traitor. Smashing her reflection was the only act that would quiet her roiling nerves. Dear fucking God, what had she done to herself? Why couldn’t she have just ignored his text or, better yet, come up with a clever “shove it up your ass” response? Instead, she’d put herself in an untenable position and dragged the unassuming Ethan into it with her.
Glancing at the mirror, she forced herself to accept that her strapless black sheath dress was the only thing she owned that might come close to being suitable for the country club event. Not that a dress that showed off her hourglass figure to perfection was likely to be a hit with the Sierra Vista mavens, who would likely show up in polyester pantsuits. But it wasn’t her Sierra Vista neighbors she was concerned about. It was Black’s sycophantic troupe of beautiful young women who, no matter their status, would be wearing clothes eons more tasteful and unquestionably more expensive than her simple black dress. A dress that, until this moment of rioting self-doubt, she’d loved. God, she hadn’t even called on Tanya or Tatiana to help her. Frankly, she hadn’t wanted them to know she was going to the party. Face it. Particularly Tanya, the perspicacious deputy sheriff, was too skilled at piecing together evidence. If Tara weren’t careful, Tanya might get her to inadvertently blurt out the truth of what had happened in the elevator. Something Tara’s shattered psyche wasn’t up to revealing—ever.
****
Griffin sucked in a deep breath, willing his errant staff to settle the hell down. Conceding that it would be a challenge for hi
s obviously engaged dick, he could only hope that his pared-down Nathan Bogle slacks had enough give not to be embarrassing. He’d acknowledged from the first time he saw her at the Whispering Pines Motel that the editor of the local paper might be one of the most beautiful and sexiest women he’d ever seen. It was the last thing he’d expected to find in the unassuming southern Arizona town. And in an antagonist at that. Her low-rise, skinny jeans had only served to emphasize her mile-long legs and curvy ass. And her leather bomber jacket couldn’t hide the noteworthy swell of her impressive breasts. Her sun-streaked hair pulled up in a casual ponytail underscored her dark brown eyes, lush lashes, and arched brows. High cheekbones accentuated her rosy cheeks, but it was her sensuous mouth that caught his attention. Her pouty, bee-stung lips were an open invitation to delve into the moist recesses and explore what he was certain would be a welcoming space.
As caught off guard as he’d been by her at their first challenging meeting, he was still struggling to deal with their elevator encounter. He had accurately captured his reaction when he told her father that he’d been humbled by her fear—make that her terror. But after repeatedly reliving the experience, in addition to being challenged by her hysteria, he couldn’t forget how it had felt to hold her sensuous body in his arms. The more she had fought against him, the more he had longed to hold her tighter, to press her luscious curves against him. Knowing he should be ashamed of taking advantage of her panic attack, he couldn’t help but revel in the scent of her feverish body as she clung to him, begging him to help her breathe.
All of his remonstrations to himself about how shabby it was to have even thought about accosting her when she’d been in such agony were tossed into the dustbin of reality when she sauntered into the Oaks Country Club. Swallowing hard to keep from groaning, he acknowledged that if he’d chosen a dress for her that would have every red-blooded man between the ages of fifteen and seventy-five struggling to control his arousal, it would be the miniscule black sheath dress she was wearing. Clearly, it wasn’t the scant yards of clingy fabric that was the showstopper. It was the body that was wearing it. If anything, the simplicity of the dress only served to underscore the wearer’s luscious curves. He’d already felt her bodacious breasts and curvy ass when she’d clung to him in the elevator. Now, for better or worse, those succulent curves were on view to any and all of the men present. Who, he was confident, if they were not gazing at her dumbfounded, were surreptitiously copping a glance from behind their frowning spouses’ glares.
