Mating Game

by Maynard, Janice

  They lifted her out of the ambulance. She whimpered when another wave of nausea gripped her.

  And then she lost consciousness.

  Fourteen

  Nola didn’t want to wake up. She was floating in a pleasant haze . . . one where nothing hurt. But she was pretty sure that if she opened her eyes, the pain would return.

  There were voices nearby, speaking in hushed tones. “Pumped her stomach . . . sheriff . . . wants to talk to her . . . pizza parlor . . . no one saw . . . box to the lab . . .”

  She licked her lips, and someone must have been watching her, because immediately a gentle voice demanded her attention. “Nola. You need to wake up now.”

  She tried to obey. But someone had weighted her eyelids.

  “Nola. Open your eyes.”

  Slowly, she complied. The light was harsh, and she winced, her lids fluttering shut once again. But the nurse was not to be dissuaded. “Nola. Open your eyes.”

  This time Nola managed both to open her eyes and focus on the room. It was your standard-issue beige-on-beige box. The only thing that made it at all aesthetic was the man standing a few feet away, his steady gaze locked on hers. She tried to smile. “Tanner.”

  Her voice sounded dreadful, all hoarse and ragged. The nurse bustled from one side of the bed to the other, checking Nola’s vital signs, regulating an IV drip, and smoothing the bed linens. The numbers must have satisfied her, because she finally exited the room.

  Tanner stepped closer, his eyes bleak. “How do you feel?”

  He looked like shit. Which must mean that she looked even worse. She licked her lips again. Her body craved liquid, but her stomach yelled a protest. She tried to swallow. “I’ve been better. Am I okay?” She had a lingering fear that she might be in danger of checking out permanently.

  She saw his fists clench and relax. “The doctor says you’ll be fine. They’re trying to track down what was in that pizza, but it may be a while until the lab results come back.”

  She knew in her heart that if he hadn’t had the presence of mind to make her throw up she might be dead by now. “Thank you,” she said slowly. “You saved my life.”

  His looked away, his mouth working. When he turned back, his jaw was clenched. “We’ll find out who did this to you, I swear.”

  She couldn’t work up much enthusiasm for that promise. If the news was going to upset her, she might just as well pass. Surely Tanner was in the clear. Why would he go to such lengths to win her trust? To deliberately poison her so he could save her was ludicrous. He could simply try to coax her into selling with lots of good sex. And at this point, it might even work.

  For one long moment she debated going back to Chicago. Gang violence and muggings and suicidal traffic seemed benign compared to what was happening to her in Resnick. She was a target. And sooner or later, whoever was after her would probably get lucky and finish the job.

  But why? What purpose was served in killing her? The question swirled in her brain over and over, around and around. And no matter how many times and from how many angles she analyzed the situation, she couldn’t find sense to it all.

  But if she ran away now, she would have to say goodbye not only to Lochhaven, but to Tanner as well. And that thought ripped at her heart.

  Tanner perched on the edge of her bed and smoothed her hair. “They brought in some Jell-O. Do you want to try some?”

  She shuddered inwardly. “No.”

  He grimaced in sympathy. “They won’t release you until you’ve eaten and peed.”

  Her bottom lip trembled. “Well, that’s just super.” Hot tears made her blink rapidly, and she frowned at the rolling table. “Give me the Sprite. I’ll try that.”

  He poured some in a cup and added a bendable straw. With his help, she raised herself up enough to swallow a few sips without spilling it.

  She felt Tanner’s weight shift. His voice was low. “Is it going to stay down?”

  She nodded slowly, with her eyes still closed. “I think so.”

  They waited ten minutes and tried some more. A half hour later, she was brave enough to tackle the orange Jell-O. Through it all, Tanner was infinitely patient. And his tenderness made her teary and emotional.

  After two hours, she still hadn’t been able to use the bathroom. Tanner dragged the recliner closer to her bed. “Why don’t you go to sleep now, Nola? It’s nine thirty, and at this point, you might as well spend the night. I doubt the doctor would come by this late to release you, anyway. I’ll be right here if you need me. Just relax and try to rest.”

  He was still holding her hand when she drifted into a dreamless slumber. . . .

  They woke up to rain the next day. The sullen weather matched Nola’s mood to a T. She was confused and heartsick, and a faint, lingering nausea made her feel like crap.

  She was released to go home by midmorning. The long drive back to Resnick passed mostly in silence. She had no clue what Tanner was thinking, and she was in no mood to talk, anyway.

  The police had come to her room at first light to ask a million questions. Tanner had given them a key so someone could retrieve the pizza box from Lochhaven. Nola didn’t hold out much hope that they would find the perpetrator. The delivery boy said he’d left his car unlocked while he dropped off a series of pizzas in an apartment complex. It would have been fairly easy for someone to order the pizza, follow the car, look for the name on the box, and doctor that particular delivery when the young teen was busy.

  Back at Lochhaven, Nola and Tanner argued right off the bat. He wanted her in sight every minute. She needed some time alone.

  Tanner was furious, his hands on his hips. “Aside from the fact that you shouldn’t even be out of bed, you’re vulnerable, Nola. The next attempt could be anything, anytime, anywhere.”

  She was quivering inside, but really—could anyone be on guard twenty-four/seven? Unless you had Secret Service protection, you were pretty much screwed if someone honestly wanted you dead.

  She reached in a kitchen drawer and pulled out the keys to her grandmother’s Buick. Hopefully the thing would start. She sighed and leaned against the wall, her knees frustratingly weak. “I’m going into town. I can’t be a prisoner in my own house. And while I’m there, I’ll stop by and see the lawyer.” She couldn’t bear to stay in the house all day thinking about what had happened. She needed distractions.

  His jaw was granite. “I’ll take you.”

  She shook her head. “No. You’ve got plenty to do here. And I’ll be careful, I promise. You can’t babysit me constantly, Tanner. I’ll be alert and I’ll be cautious. But I’m not going to hide.”

  He looked like a volcano about to blow. The white line around his mouth and the flash in his glittering eyes were a dead give-away. But instead of yelling, or berating her, or trying again to change her mind, he simply turned on his heel and walked out.

  She was thankful the old car started after only a few coughs and chokes from the engine. At first, Nola found herself looking in the rearview mirror constantly. But she relaxed slightly when she told herself that no one would have the balls to run her off the road in broad daylight . . . not when they could be identified.

  She stopped by the lawyer’s office first and told him about the two incidents.

  He was aghast. “And you don’t have any clue who it might be?”

  That was the perfect opening. “Actually,” she said slowly, “I was hoping you might tell me more about the beneficiary who inherits if I’m not married in a month . . . or if I’m dead.” She added that last with a wry twist of her lips.

  He was clearly distressed, but the man knew how to keep a secret. “I can assure you, Nola, the other recipient has no idea they are even in the will. I’m the only one who knows, and I haven’t told a soul. And even if they were aware of the details of the will, I promise you, the secondary recipient is no possible source of danger.”

  “You’re sure?”

  He nodded vigorously. “I swear.”

  Well,
what could she say to that?

  She asked a few more questions and then bade the lawyer goodbye. He still seemed upset by her news, but he was resolute in his refusal to countermand her grandmother’s wishes.

  Nola wanted badly to call Krystal or Tally or both. But she knew neither of her friends was in a position to drop everything and come running. So all she would accomplish by phone calls was to worry them.

  Marc seemed the next-best confidant if she overlooked the possibility that he was her assailant. But she had ceased to believe that was feasible. Marc loved her. He’d made that painfully clear.

  When she arrived at the motel, Marc was incredulous and worried as she outlined what had happened the night before. “We need to leave,” he said soberly. “Go back to Chicago. You only have a short time left, and the chances of convincing a groom to tie the knot in that time frame are slim. You need to quit playing ‘down on the farm’ before you become a statistic.”

  She paced his small room, pausing to look out the window. Something had been nagging at her, and she could no longer ignore it. She needed the truth.

  She sat on the pine dresser and dangled her legs. “Marc?”

  He was distracted by a text on his phone. “Hmmm?”

  “One of my friends told me that you tend to get overly possessive about women, and they freak out and dump you. Is that true?”

  His head jerked up, and the color drained from his face. Suddenly he looked far older than he was, and she felt a twinge of shame for pushing the issue. But she had to know.

  He wiped a hand over his face and sank to the edge of the bed, his head bowed, his arms dangling between his legs. “Yeah,” he said, his voice dull. “Somehow the relationship always starts out well, but then something happens. I’m not an easy man to live with. And I don’t seem to be able to change. I thought women liked being spoiled, but they always want more.”

  Nola grimaced. “More things?”

  He scowled. “That would be too easy. They want intimacy, but they want their space. How in the hell is a man supposed to understand such a fucked-up formula?” He hunched his shoulders. “So they bail . . . when I screw up. And I can’t fix it.”

  “Is that why you followed me here? Because you wanted to hang on to me?”

  Now he looked both guilty and apprehensive. “I was worried about you. I still am.”

  She shrugged. “That’s not what I asked.”

  He drew his bottom lip into his mouth and evaded her gaze. “I never believed that shit about absence making the heart grow fonder.”

  “Oh, Marc . . .” She said his name on a sigh. “Other than your trick with my gas heater, you haven’t done anything else stupid, have you?”

  His head snapped around so fast it was a wonder his neck didn’t break. His eyes widened. “Good God, no. Surely you don’t really think I would . . .” His brows drew together in a frown. “It’s the handyman, isn’t it? He’s warned you about me . . . suggested I might be the culprit behind these attacks.”

  Nola smiled wryly. “He might have. But then again, so did you. Warn me about him, I mean.”

  Marc raked his hands through his hair, mussing it in an entirely uncharacteristic fashion. He stood and faced her, his expression grim. “You have my word that I would never hurt you, Nola. For God’s sake . . . do you really think I could poison you?”

  He looked so devastated that she felt guilty. She went to him and put her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. “No.” She sighed. “I don’t. But I’m on shaky ground here, and I sure as hell don’t know what to do or what to believe.”

  He held her tight, his cheek on her hair. “I’ll always be here for you, Nola. And no strings attached. I love you, baby . . . even if you don’t feel the same way. I want you to be happy, that’s all.”

  His hands went to her breasts, and for a brief moment, she considered letting him make love to her. It would be familiar and soothing, and it would take her mind off her troubles.

  His fingers brushed her nipples with the pressure she liked. His leg moved between hers. He bent his head and kissed her roughly, letting her feel his arousal.

  So close. She came so close to saying yes.

  But then she remembered Tanner’s face in the kitchen when he realized she had swallowed poison. Raw anguish. A barely disguised hint of terror. He was a man who could take on anyone and anything and not blink. But he had been afraid. For her.

  She broke the embrace and stepped back, pausing only to kiss Marc’s cheek. “I’ve got to go,” she said, not feeling she owed him any explanations at this point. “Goodbye, Marc.”

  As she drove away from the motel, she shook her head in disgust. She’d been in town for two hours, and she was no closer to finding answers. So she might as well confront Billy one more time before she headed home.

  The farm-supply store parking lot was bustling. Nola found a spot for her giant car and shut off the engine. She glanced idly to the left and her stomach, which had been improving steadily, did one hard flip and turned to stone. Oh, my God.

  A few spaces away, a dark SUV sat gleaming in the noonday sun, with a long scrape all down the passenger-side doors.

  Her hands started shaking so badly she had to grip the wheel and try not to throw up . . . again. She forced herself to get out of the Buick, but she couldn’t make herself examine the damaged vehicle nearby. Walking slowly, feeling with every step like a ninety-year-old, she approached Billy’s place of business and went inside.

  She didn’t see him right off, and that was fine with her. A pleasant salesclerk, a girl no more than sixteen or seventeen, offered to wait on her. Nola gave some made-up-on-the-spot measurements for chicken wire that she planned to use in her garden, and the young woman went to the back to fill the order.

  Nola gazed blindly at a display of seed packages and waited the eternity it took for the clerk to return. While the girl rang up the sale, Nola struggled to articulate the words. “Whose car is that outside that got wrecked? It looks like Mr. Inman’s.”

  Say no, say no. Please say no.

  The young woman handed Nola a receipt. “Yes. Poor man. His mother borrowed the car without asking. . . . I don’t think she’s even supposed to be behind the wheel. But she wanted something from the store. On the way out of the driveway, she scraped one of their brick pillars.”

  Nola nodded and made some appropriate comment. She followed the boy who had hefted her purchase on his shoulders out to the car. He stowed her chicken wire in the trunk and slammed it.

  Nola started the engine. She should call the police. She knew it. But oh, the embarrassment for Billy, whether he did it or not. The publicity would be excruciating. And Nola’s family had tormented him enough already. So she would simply keep her mouth shut.

  Billy’s mother scraped the car. On a post. Not on a country road trying to kill Nola. Or Billy lied to his staff. Because he was out on that country road. Or he was telling the truth and there was no connection to Nola’s accident. Damn. Damn. Damn. This was intolerable.

  Tanner met her in front of the house when she pulled up. He’d have been able to hear the car from a good half mile away.

  When she got out, his face changed. “What’s wrong?” The words were a harsh snap.

  She tried to smile and failed. “Not a thing. I saw the lawyer, said hello to Marc, and bought chicken wire. And now I’d like to go lie down.”

  He was clearly unconvinced, but he dragged her inside, insisted she eat the chicken soup he had warmed, and then carried her upstairs and tucked her in bed.

  She reached for his hand, suddenly and shamefully afraid to be alone. “Stay with me. Please.”

  He nodded jerkily. “I’ll be right back.” She heard the water running and realized he was washing off the day’s sweat. She wouldn’t have minded. All she needed was him.

  He joined her in less than ten minutes. His big, muscular body was bare except for a white towel slung around his hips. He dispensed with that, casually, and sli
d in beside her. She moaned and curled into his chest, seeking peace, safety, love.

  Tanner stroked her hair and her back. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Nola. I’ll keep you safe.”

  She inhaled the scent of clean male and realized that just sharing space with him calmed her nerves. “I wondered today if I should go back to Chicago.”

  He went still. “With Marc?”

  “With Marc, but not with Marc. We’re just friends now.”

  “But it was more . . . before?”

  “Yes.” She wouldn’t lie. Not even to soothe Tanner’s ego.

  He was quiet for a long time. “Was it over before you came here?”

  “Not completely, no.”

  “Then what changed?”

  She rolled to her back and looked up at him. He was propped on an elbow, his damp hair falling across his forehead. “You,” she said simply. “I met you.”

  His mouth wasn’t smiling, but a light came on in his eyes. “And what about the old boyfriend?”

  She ran a hand over his chest, stroking the soft hair and feeling the taut muscle beneath. “We . . . reconnected. But there wasn’t much left beyond nostalgia.” She took a deep breath. “I need to talk to you about something, Tanner. Something important.”

  He rubbed a thumb beneath her eyes. “You’re exhausted, sweetheart. Can’t it wait?”

  She was willing to be persuaded. But not for the reason he thought—she knew she had to tell him about the will, but she was worried about how he would react to her revelation. Besides, Tanner’s erection pressing against her leg provided an easy distraction.

  She studied his face. He had ridiculously long lashes. Arousal rolled through her like a slow tide of molasses.

  She touched his hip, his thigh, his cock. He murmured, his hand moving restlessly across her belly. She was still dressed, and that was putting a kink in her intentions. She eased to the other side of the bed and shed her clothes. Then she slipped back to her spot and touched him intimately.