The Bride Takes a Powder

by Jane Leopold Quinn

  Glancing at her, his gaze narrowing and lingering, he said, "You okay, miss?"

  She lifted her mug and nodded. A few more people came in and the place got noisier. One man, his dark hair tied back in a ponytail, took a stool at the bar and leaned over it. Sweetie pointed to a table where both men sat down. She watched his face, which wasn't a hardship. His expressions went from a friendly smile, to eyes wide in shock, to a frown of distress, his lips pressed flat.

  Boy, he looked shocked and angry. She wondered what made him so upset then remembered she was having a bit of a trauma herself. She had no interest in getting involved in his. Besides, how bad could it be? He, his mom, cookies, a nice clean bar? Idyllic small town? Bah! What could be wrong?

  Chapter Two

  The instant he heard her squelched snort, Mike Banning had recognized the gorgeous woman sitting at the back table. Norah Ballard. She looked even more beautiful and sophisticated than she had in college. What the hell was she doing here in B Falls?

  He loved teaching English at B Falls High School, but Ollie's was his family's bar and he'd always been a part of it. After mentoring kids and grading papers, he was committed to doing whatever was needed to help out his folks. And now he had work to do. Settling himself behind the bar, shirt sleeves rolled up, apron on, he checked his supplies. Olives, cherries, celery sticks, mixer. All there. Beer dispensers full and ready to go. The place was filling up, which was great for the profit margin.

  He smiled and chuckled. Keeping an eye on the clientele was like keeping watch over a classroom of teenagers. He had to know where everyone was and what they were doing.

  His life was going just the way he wanted. Yeah, he wished for a woman in his life. He wanted to fall in love, get married, have kids and was positive it would happen one day. The women he dated were nice enough, but no one really caught hold of his heart to the extent he couldn't let her go. Was it him? Maybe he was too dull but what could he do to appear more interesting? Skydive? Motocross? Bull fighting?

  Shaking his head, he placed a beer in front of a customer at the bar then glanced at the front door. Stu Pressman, Davy Marsh's boyfriend and a local reporter for the Morning Herald, slid onto a stool, lifting a hand in greeting. "Hey, Stu, what can I get you?"

  "Nothing right now, Mike. I need to talk to you. In private."

  "What's up?" The skin on Mike's nape prickled at Stu's cool expression, odd because he was usually friendly. "Let's go over there," Mike said, pointing to a nearby table that had just been vacated. Taking a cloth to clean up and a tray for the empties with him, he followed Stu.

  Stu leaned across the table so only Mike could hear. "The paper'll be printing a story tomorrow, online tonight, about B Falls High School."

  "What about?" Stu looked too somber for the story to be about baseball or the upcoming prom.

  "Test score manipulation."

  Mike's eyes widened and his head rocked back in surprise. "Did I hear you right?" He scrutinized Stu's face for any sign he was joking. Raking a glance over the customers, he assured himself no one was near enough to hear. "Test scores? Standardized test scores?"

  Stu regarded him with a steady dispassionate gaze, then nodded.

  "Here?" Mike was stunned. This had happened in other towns, other school districts, other states. "In B Falls?"

  "I'd like a statement from you for the article."

  "Stu, I know nothing about this. I can't even believe it."

  "Is that your statement?" he confirmed, pen poised over his notebook.

  "Yes, I guess it is." Mike's gut had taken a direct hit. Who would do this? Was it true? "Where'd you hear this? Did someone report it?"

  "I can't tell you that, but I can tell you that Moira is investigating and she'll be talking to you soon."

  Moira Logan, the city's assistant prosecuting attorney. This was a grave matter if the law was involved. "I'll be glad to talk to her." Mike shook his head slowly in bewilderment. Yes, they'd had an increase in test scores the last couple of years, but he'd considered it the result of the high quality of teachers at BFHS. His coworkers. His friends. What the hell's going on?

  He noticed a party of three sidling up to the bar at the same time his mom called his name. "I have to get back to the bar, Stu. Like I said, I have no idea what this is all about. Okay?" His mind and heart raced as he tried to catch a deep breath.

  Stu closed his notebook, sliding it into the breast pocket of his sport coat. "Sure, Mike. I just wanted to warn you and to get a quote. I can't let Davy's or my friendship with you influence my writing of the story." His brows drew downward with an apologetic wince.

  Yeah, Mike got that. Everyone knew everyone in a small town. "Thanks for that, I guess." In shock, he made it back to the bar. He needed to get away for a few minutes and think this through. After serving the new customers, he said, "Mom, I've got to go in the back for a minute."

  "Sure, hon."

  "Is Dad in the kitchen?" He felt as if everyone were looking at him, and he had to get out of view. Who else knew about this? No other teachers were in the bar at the moment, but he saw them every day. How could this have been going on without his knowledge? He'd never even suspected.

  "Yeah, he's flipping burgers."

  "Okay, good. I'll just be a few minutes." Pushing through the swinging door, he saw his dad at the grill.

  "Hi, son, can you grab me that spatula?"

  Oliver Banning had been his mentor and biggest supporter next to his mom and all around best dad a guy could have. Sure, they'd tangled over the years especially when he'd been in high school and he'd stayed out after curfew or had been caught drinking. Both father and son knew that was normal behavior. He just hoped his dad knew him better than to believe he was involved in cheating.

  Still stunned, he blurted out what Stu had told him, the very little information he had. Leaning on the back wall against the bulletin board with the health department notices, he chewed on his lower lip and stared at the floor.

  "Damn it!"

  "Yeah, Dad. I hope you know I'm n—"

  "Of course, I know it!" Ollie exploded. "Where did this story come from?"

  "I don't know. Stu wouldn't say. I've been racking my brain trying to think of who would be involved. I thought I could trust everyone at school."

  "Well, obviously this would be secretive. It's not like the guilty parties would be discussing it in the teachers' lounge."

  "The article is coming out in the paper tomorrow. This'll be all over town and the school. I just don't know what to say." Mike slumped defeatedly against the cork board. The fact that he wasn't involved seemed to be the least of it. God. He was furious that people he'd respected could be guilty of cheating. He'd thought it something that happened in big cities and expected more out of his own small town.

  Shit. Are you that naïve? He'd never thought so. To him, B Falls meant small-town goodness and values and safety. Sure there were the usual problems the same as with a city of any size, but they'd been relatively minimal here. The murder of Marc Rahn's parents and the discovery, a decade after the fact, of their insane killer Butch Wilcox had been the worst of the local crimes. Test score manipulation was so very wrong, so… The thought of it made him want to puke. And suspicious. And paranoid. Who knew about it? Maybe he was that naïve.

  Still dumbfounded and angry but ensured of his father's belief in him—his mother would be too when he told her—he went back to the bar. Hump night and the place was jumping. Bouncing people crowded the tiny wooden dance floor in front of the '58 Seeburg jukebox that still played the old tunes. The place was loud and happy and customers were slugging down the beer as if it were their last. That was good for him. It kept his mind off Stu's bombshell and the big scandal that would rock the town tomorrow.

  A movement toward the back of the bar caught his eye. Axel Davis, a hulking bald former football team member from a dozen years ago, leaned over Norah Ballard's table to get right in her face. She shook her head. Axel leaned closer. She sh
ook her head again, and her lips moved. Mike had forgotten all about her when Stu sprang his news on him.

  Axel grabbed for her arm.

  Mike sprinted around the bar, pried the guy's hand off her wrist and prodded him toward the front door. He did all this as low key as possible hoping no one else would notice. Axel resisted but Mike growled, "Leave quietly now. I don't want to call Marc Rahn but I will. You're drunk. Sober up before you come back here. Understand?"

  Axel grumbled, jerked himself away from Mike at the door and walked out under his own steam. "Don't threaten me, jerk," he slurred. "You're not the only place in town."

  Mike shrugged. He didn't give a crap if Davis ever came back. He could do without his business. Back inside, it didn't appear the trouble had been noticed by other customers. That's the way he liked to handle this kind of thing. Played down. Strolling over to Norah's table, he took a seat. "Sorry about that. Are you okay?"

  Her sharp gaze took him in, and she didn't look grateful. "I could have gotten rid of him myself."

  He cocked his head, giving her a skeptical glance. "It's my job to stop trouble before it gets too far gone. No one noticed, and it was over and done with quickly."

  "Well, I didn't need you to step in."

  She obviously didn't know him, didn't remember him at all. Well, that kinda sucks. "I was just trying to help and, as I said, it's my bar and my job." Jeez, what a bitch. "I didn't do it for your gratitude." He placed both hands on the table and levered himself up. She was a pain in the ass but still a customer. "I'll send over a beer on the house." Gorgeous and hot apparently don't equal pleasant.

  "Thanks, but I'm leaving." She also rose, collecting her purse, and sliding it under her arm.

  "I'll go outside with you to make sure Axel isn't out there."

  Her pale eyes darted to meet his. "You don't need to."

  He didn't think in college he'd ever been this close to her. Those light eyes were amazing—mysterious, otherworldly. Reeling in his wayward thoughts, he said, "This is a nice town. We watch out for people. Where are you staying?" She didn't answer him. "Listen, it's dark. Axel's drunk and mad. I just want to make sure you get home okay. Okay?" Her gaze wavered from him to the door. She nervously resettled her purse under her arm and then, for a long moment, looked at him as if inspecting for vermin. He stared her down. There'd been more action tonight than usual, and he was absolutely not in the mood for this crap. He didn't know what was going on with her, but she was as cold and gorgeous as he remembered.

  It had been a few years since college. He'd changed a lot from those days, so he didn't fault her for not recognizing him. It took all his decent upbringing to not tell her she was acting like an ungrateful ass. A hot-looking one but an ass.

  Speaking of ass, hers was spectacular, he noted, as he followed her out the door. The evening air went a little way toward cooling his hot temper and burning face. This was not turning out to be his night. First a cheating accusation, then a woman who seemed to actively dislike him for no apparent reason. All he'd done was get rid of a drunk for her.

  "Which way are you going?" Now that they stood outside next to each other, he realized how tall she was—shorter than his six-two but not by much. Of course, even if she were barefoot instead of wearing those high heels, she'd still be tall. Hm. A barefoot Norah Ballard. His cock heated in arousal, thickening and pulsing against the placket of his khakis. Just goes to show that a guy can be turned on by a bitchy woman if her legs are long and she has a world class ass. And her face is about the most beautiful I've ever seen. Fuck. She stood right in front of him, and he felt like a love-struck dolt. Lust-struck dolt. And she has no clue who I am. Just add that to my crappy night!

  What was my question? She scraped her teeth over the corner of her lower lip, her suddenly bewildered gaze roaming the street. The expressions crossing her face fascinated him. It almost seemed she didn't know where she was. They stood silently, shoulders almost touching, sheltered from the misting rain by the overhanging roof at the doorway, for how long he couldn't be sure.

  Surreptitiously staring at her through lowered lashes, he finally remembered… "Where do you live?" Yeah, that's what I asked.

  Snapping a glance at him, she seemed to come to her senses and pointed south on Route 20. "I'm just down the street."

  Not quite in his right mind either, he forced a smile, very much wanting her to trust him. New to town, bothered by that idiot Axel, of course she'd be wary of someone she thought was a stranger. "The McMillan house? I'll watch you until you get to the porch."

  "Goodness, Daddy," she responded sarcastically.

  That made him chuckle and before she could say anything else, he said, "Go on with you, woman. By the way, my name's Mike Banning. Welcome to Birchwood Falls."

  She gave him a two-fingered salute, marched down the street, up onto the porch, and inside the door without even one look back. And she hadn't given him any sense she recognized his name.

  Shaking his head, he turned back inside the bar. I wonder what's up with her? What the hell is she doing here? She's definitely not Axel's style. Wasn't yours years ago and certainly not yours now either. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath which didn't help him make sense of the night. His emotions had swung the gamut from happiness to shock with a dollop of sexual attraction thrown in.

  But with what Stu Pressman had told him tonight, he had a bigger problem on the horizon than the gorgeous, prickly Norah Ballard. But it rankled the hell out of him that she didn't recognize him.

  ***

  Mike Banning? From college?

  Clothing damp from the light rain and with hair flattened to her scalp, Norah climbed the stairs to her apartment. She wished she could stomp on the wooden treads but didn't want to disturb Jan. What a bunch of Neanderthals in this town! That guy, Axel. Drunk asshole. I could have handled him.

  Banning had sported a big, warm smile until that guy with the ponytail came in. Then his demeanor had changed drastically. He'd gone from cheerful to stunned to angry. How bad could the problem be that it couldn't be fixed with a plate of chocolate chip cookies? Small town values and all that.

  She remembered his name, but he didn't look the same. As an undergrad, he'd been tall, skinny, and a bit shaggy looking. Boy, had he changed. And for the better. He really was a good-looking guy. His dark hair, now stylishly cut, had gleamed in the overhead light. His facial features had lost their teenage boy look and had sharpened into lean lines and strong angles.

  Mike Banning was a simple name for a man who hadn't seemed to be having a simple night. He'd gone through every emotion from happiness at being home from school to stunned at what looked like bad news. Then he'd become Super Protector and hustled Axel the jerk out. And all she'd done was bitch at him.

  He'd just wanted to make sure she got home safely, and she'd treated him terribly. "Sorry, Mike," she murmured. "I'll apologize tomorrow."

  She brushed her teeth and prepared to spend the second night of her honeymoon alone. The bed in the apartment was comfortable, but she restlessly punched the pillow and wished she had something to read. It had been years since a novel had been her bedtime companion. A bookstore was connected to the coffee house where she'd had breakfast that morning. She'd only been here one day? Yesterday—her wedding day—seemed years ago. Well anyway, she promised herself a trip to the bookstore tomorrow.

  Tossing and turning, she wondered if there was a chance in hell she'd ever fall…

  ***

  Morning and she woke suddenly, her heart fluttering in a panic. Where am I? The room wasn't familiar. Then she recalled what had happened. She'd always thought she was in control of her life, and it wasn't like her to run away from a problem. Gazing at the ceiling, she let that thought wash over her. On one hand, she wasn't married now to an asshole. She didn't have to go to work. As her pulse calmed, the rising sun streaming in the window lightened her mood. On the other hand, she had nothing to do. She was free.

  Then, as if sharp talons
tore through her stomach, she remembered. The doctor. She was scared. What if Garrett had given her something? It would be a cold day in July when she'd trust another man again, let alone have sex. Expelling the breath she'd been holding, she slid to the side of the bed and sat up. You won't know anything until you know so get up, get dressed, and think about something else for now.

  Dressed in jeans and a sweater, she perched on the seat of the bay window in the living room, luxuriating in the warmth of the early morning sun and her first cup of coffee. Used to rushing out the door to the gym then to work, she couldn't remember the last time she'd just sat with coffee in the morning. It felt pretty weird to have this quiet. Staring out at the waking town, at one or two cars already on the highway in front of her house, at the river flowing through the town, she breathed deeply, absorbing the peace.

  Her phone beeped. Garrett was texting her with a demand to know where she was. He certainly wasn't apologizing for his behavior. She tossed her phone onto the couch and had no intention of responding to him.

  She gazed out the window again, the picture of Super Protector Banning shimmering in her mind. He'd become such a hunk, and she'd almost wanted to run her fingers through his dark hair. Kind of long for a teacher. Damn. Why was she thinking about him this way? Surely it was all a result of the jumble of things she'd gone through in the last forty-eight hours. The confusion, the uncertainty. Two things she wasn't used to feeling.

  The scene outside was pretty this morning. There'd been so much rain—pouring, misting, sprinkling—in the last few days. Trees and flowering bushes budded and had begun filling out with fresh, soft-green leaves. It was still cool in the morning, but she cracked the window open a bit for fresh air. Jan had left the local newspaper on the landing, and it probably wouldn't take long to look through. A quiet small town. What could be bad here?

  Unfolding it, she gaped at the headline.