This time she didn’t have enough balance to avoid his grip. His hand wrapped warm and solid around her elbow, his strength holding her upright from that single contact point.
Warmth also flowed through her from that single contact point. No. She was doing this to herself. With her wayward thoughts about a long-dead first love. Making him into some paragon of sexual consideration. Why, he’d been no better at making her feel wonderful in bed than—than… Comparisons were pointless.
“You okay?”
She shook her head to clear it, belatedly registering his question and that her gesture would be construed as an answer—and that his grip had slid up her arm and had drawn her close to his side. He wore only the shirt; in a warm spell, March was far from shirtsleeves weather in Wisconsin, yet she felt heat radiating from him.
“Did you twist your ankle? Hurt your—”
“No.” She stepped away. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Crossing the sidewalk to the ATM kiosk, she drew in a breath, regaining another kind of balance.
She started to punch in her PIN, paused and pointedly looked over her shoulder to where Steve stood, once more just behind her. “Do you mind?”
He wanted to grin. How she knew that when his face was wiped clean, she couldn’t say. It wasn’t like she knew the guy anymore…or, as events had proven, had ever known him.
They came from the same town but different worlds. She’d once had some foolish notion that despite their differences they’d truly connected in a way that could last a lifetime. She’d been wrong. That had changed her life, but it hadn’t ended it. She wasn’t going to let memories of those events disrupt her life now.
He turned his side to her but didn’t move back. From a privacy standpoint it was perfect. From her standpoint it was little improvement.
“You don’t need to do this,” Steve said as she started pressing the keys that would withdraw a cash advance against her credit card. Ordinarily, she hated paying the fees, considering them a waste of money. But on rare occasions, the expense was worthwhile. “He’s jerking you around.”
“Thank you, I’d figured that out myself. It’s worth the money to have this completed today. I’m not poor little Annette anymore. Things have changed.”
“You never were poor little Annette—not in the ways that count. And I know things have changed.” There was nothing to hear in Steve’s voice. Certainly not sadness. “I hear they’ve changed a lot for you lately. Selling your company, right?”
“Yes.”
“For a lot of money.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about it.”
Giving the spiel was second nature. And comfortable. “We find the right service for busy homeowners—car repairs, lawn work, tree service, additions, repairs. They can hire us for one project or on a retainer. If they don’t know what kind of workman they need, we can find that out, too. We can either bring the client three to five bids, with background material on each, and let them decide which to take, or we will select one for them. Our company’s name is Every Detail and that’s what we see to—we do all the vetting of workers, researching their quality and prices, assessing the job and following up.”
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
“It is. That’s why people are willing to pay us to do it.”
“Must be hard, though, to let go of a company you created. Something you started and loved and thought you’d be doing a long, long time.” While the machine whirred, she glanced over her shoulder to see him shake his head. “Then to let all that go.”
“Sometimes circumstances combine in such a way that you realize that what you’d loved and expected to last a long, long time was merely temporary. The corporation pursuing Every Detail made us an offer of serious money. Enough to free us from working if we don’t want to, and to give our associates a bonus, plus the promise of more work for our lineup of service people. How could we say no to that? There was no other choice to make.”
The money came out of the slot, followed by the receipt and her card.
“We all have choices. We all make choices.”
He’d made his choice. He’d probably thought he could have both her and Lily—that he could have anything he wanted, that he was entitled to it.
She put the card into place in her organizer and the receipt and cash in the billfold area.
“We make choices. And some of us never look back,” he added.
She turned and found him facing her. She squared off to him, her calm intact.
“Is that what this is about? Is that what’s bothering you? That when I left here I never looked back to Tobias, or you? That I succeeded without you? That I’ve made something of my life?”
“No, it doesn’t bother me. It makes me proud.”
She should have scoffed, laughed, something. He was so darn convincing. He always had been. That aura of sincerity had drawn her from the start…and had been her undoing in the end.
“Steven!” A man emerging from the bank steamed toward them.
Steve looked toward the man as he muttered, “And I wish to hell I knew what this is about.”
She’d meant this conversation. His this sounded broader. Maybe he was talking about the approaching man. Or maybe she had misunderstood.
“Steven, how nice to see you. Great weather we’re having, isn’t it? We should get eighteen holes in at the club while it lasts, eh?” His well-tailored suit couldn’t mask that he was built like a top—wide through the bottom. She had a sudden vision of a top trying to swing a golf club. “Had dinner with your mother and some of the other board members last week and we were saying how we had to get you to join this year—”
“Sorry, Jason, I’m not much of a golfer. But I’d be happy to talk to you about increasing the bank’s commitment to the Tobias Fund. And I’d like to introduce—”
“Oh, well, uh…the board…”
“—a former resident who’s come back. Annette, this is Jason Remtree, president of the bank. Jason, this is Annette Trevetti. I think you know her brother, Max, the owner of Trevetti Building.”
“How do you do, Jason?”
Annette hoped that if Jason ever played poker she could be at the table. Betting against him would be a snap. The way he goggled at her, then Steve, then her again, he might as well have shouted that he’d heard all the gossip about them and remembered every shred of it.
“Uh, fine. It’s nice to… Uh, Max—” He latched on to that name like a life preserver. “Max is a good customer of ours. Sorry to hear he got hurt.”
“Thank you, I’ll tell him you said so. And, yes, he is a good customer—a very good customer, so you can imagine my disappointment when I called about arranging to be added to the signature card while I’m here temporarily—” she emphasized the qualifier to let Steve know she hadn’t missed that former resident who’s come back “—for the account and was told no one could accommodate us today, even though Max’s injury makes it impossible for him to sign. But now that I’ve met you, I’m sure you can personally arrange for someone to come out to the house this afternoon to take care of that and other matters. Three o’clock would be convenient.”
“I, uh—”
“And next week, I’ll be coming into the bank to talk about what services you’re offering online. Online banking is so essential to business in this economy, don’t you think? Yet I couldn’t find any reference to the services offered by the Bank of Tobias in the material Max has.”
“No, well, um…”
She took his limp hand and shook it firmly, adding a small smile. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Jason, and I look forward to doing business with your representative this afternoon. I hope we can continue to do business in the future. Goodbye, gentlemen.”
She couldn’t say she was surprised when Steve ignored the hint, said a quick goodbye to Remtree and caught up with her in two strides.
“That was impressive,” he said from her right shoulder as they crossed the stre
et. “Remtree might leave bloodstains on his designer shirt from a few of those nicks, but impressive.”
“He needed to be put on notice that if the bank doesn’t provide services, Max will go elsewhere.”
“Does Max know that?”
She said nothing. Max would be hard to budge on this. He didn’t like change and he had a sense of loyalty that sometimes got in the way of his business sense.
“That’s what I thought. You know, my mother couldn’t have done that any better. Although I’ll give you points for being smoother.”
It was a good thing they’d reached the sidewalk, because that stopped her in her tracks.
“You, of all the people in the world, saying I’m like your mother?”
“Me of all the people in the world? You can’t be trying to say I’m like her—you’re too smart to make the same mistake Remtree does.”
“You’re either just like your mother or you give in to her all the time.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Have any examples of all the time?”
“Swimming.”
Both eyebrows went up. “Swimming? I quit competitive swimming after high school.”
Steve had told her that Ambrose Corbett had encouraged both his sons to play sports as boys, approving only victories but also citing the benefits of learning teamwork and leadership, not to mention the connections that could later help a political career. When Lana objected that they were mixing with children from families beneath them, Ambrose had said, “If a Corbett only won the votes of other Corbetts, they’d never be elected.”
Zach had reveled in the rough-and-tumble physicality. But for Steve the primary pleasure had been the unfettered interaction with other kids—kids he never would have met if Lana had had her way.
And she did have her way after Ambrose died.
Having reached six feet early in high school, Steve had wanted to play basketball, but his mother refused permission. She would accept only tennis, golf or swimming—sports pursued at Tobias Country Club. He had decided to focus on swimming. Zach quit sports entirely.
When Steve was a Tobias High swimming star who dated glamorous Lily Wilbanks and she’d been little nobody Annette Trevetti in the class behind, she’d noted that while most swimmers shaved their times bit by bit, Steve had a reputation for dropping his times from practices to races in chunks. She’d also noticed how much she’d enjoyed watching his broad-shouldered, lean-hipped body slice through the water ahead of everyone else.
At the time she’d fooled herself into believing that the pleasure was a form of school spirit. When they started dating she’d recognized it for what it was—attraction, if not downright lust.
“Exactly. You quit competitive swimming. Your mother never wanted you to compete in sports, and you gave in to her.”
“I didn’t need swimming in college.”
“Need it?”
He waved that off. “The point is I was on the swim team when I wanted to be and wasn’t when I decided I no longer wanted to be. You’ll have to dig deeper than that for an example.”
“You’re still here in Tobias, aren’t you?”
“You of all people should know that was my plan all along, because it used to be our plan.”
He’d talked about getting a law degree, then returning to Tobias and opening a legal clinic to help people in town. She was going to finish her degree so she could run the business side of the clinic. She had never mentioned her dream of leaving Tobias for good.
“It was your plan, because returning to Tobias is what’s expected of Corbetts.”
“You say Corbett like it’s a dirty word. You were once willing to be a Corbett—said you would be for the rest of your life.”
“If I hadn’t realized my mistake in time, I would have been a Corbett by law and a piece of paper. I never would have been a Corbett in all the other ways—peering down my nose at the rest of the world, ordering people around and thinking I’m bet—”
“Honey, you’ve spent the past half hour doing a fine imitation of what you’re describing as Corbett. I’m not saying Trent and Jason didn’t deserve it, but—”
“I am nothing like—” She sucked in a quick breath and adjusted her shoulders and her dignity. “I do not have time for this useless discussion.”
He didn’t follow her as she returned to the permits office and finished her business with Trent Lipinsky. Finally, Steve had left her in peace. Left her to deal with the situation. Left her to her own thoughts.
Had she been too severe toward Lipinsky and Remtree?
She was so used to operating as half of a team with Suz, and yes, she supposed she did take the bad cop role more often than Suz. Much more often. Had she unconsciously patterned that role after the Corbetts?
She had found no answers when Trent handed her the completed paperwork to take to Max. She gave him a big smile, then felt a jab of guilt when his eyes sharpened and his smile stretched as he said, “We could discuss the ins and outs of permit applications over dinner tonight so it will be a smooth trip for you next time.”
A jab of distaste joined the guilt. To top off his anti-charm, he’d stretched out smooth like some campy lounge singer. But she had smiled at him that way, so it wouldn’t be fair to zing him, no matter how tempting.
“I’m sure it will be a smooth trip regardless, Trent, since you and I are both professionals. And that’s what makes dinner out of the question.” She shook her head in would-be sorrow as she turned to leave. “Conflict of interest.”
She could ordinarily handle a dozen Trent Lipinskys. Why on earth had she fumbled this? Okay, that was obvious. Steve had thrown her off. She had let Steve’s comments get to her, leading her to overcompensate with a smile that opened a whole new can of worms.
Overcompensate.
There wouldn’t be anything to compensate for if she hadn’t been harsh. Doing a fine imitation of what you’re describing as Corbett.
She passed through the open doorway and turned the corner—and there stood the speaker of those words.
More accurately, there lounged the speaker. Steve had his shoulders propped against the wall, one ankle atop the other, arms crossed over his chest.
The notion spurted through her that she would almost be glad to see him if it meant a distraction from her doubts. But almost fell far short of was.
“Eavesdropping, Steve?”
“Keeping tabs on what’s going on, and there’s nowhere better to do that than these halls. So I’m here a lot.”
“You’re not asking me to believe you work all the time, are you? Besides—”
“I know better than to ask you to believe.”
“—I wouldn’t think you’d have to work all that hard to keep this job.”
He raised his eyebrows at her reference to the position in town his name gave him. “That reminds me, you accused me of using my—what was it? Great sword?”
Heat surged up her neck, preparing to fly like flags in both cheeks. “Your name.”
He grunted, but the lift of his mouth gave him away. “Did it occur to you that I’m that clerk’s boss’s boss, and that position might have more weight than my last name? No, I can see it didn’t.”
He was right. It hadn’t occurred to her. And his explanation was reasonable. Before she could formulate a response, though, he went on.
“And you’re probably right. I don’t think so, either. I think the answer’s more basic.”
“He’s an idiot,” she grumbled.
“I wouldn’t say that. I’d say his motivation this morning was to extend the time he was looking at a beautiful woman to the maximum. That’s not a sign of idiocy.”
“You think you know everything, don’t you?”
“Well, I know you’re free for dinner tonight.”
Was there an invitation hidden in that? Was he nuts? Or was she? Reading into an offhand comment all sorts of meanings that weren’t there.
No wonder her nerves were jumping.
“Goo
dbye, Steve.”
That goodbye at the town hall yesterday had been premature.
Annette pushed against the handle of the grocery cart as she looked over her shoulder. It made her feel a little paranoid. But looking over her shoulder had paid off, because she’d spotted Steve before he saw her. Finally.
Yesterday afternoon as she typed letters Max dictated, then met with the bank representative Jason Remtree sent out, she had decided the encounters Monday at the video store and yesterday at the town hall had been happenstance.
The likelihood of that benign explanation had faded when Steve walked into the post office behind her first thing this morning. A young mother with two active toddlers got into line between them, and she’d avoided eye contact with Steve, so there’d been no conversation.
But as she’d left with an array of stamps, he’d turned from his spot at the counter and given her a slow, deliberate smile, along with a good morning, Annette, in a smoky voice that had every head in the place turning toward her and had her remembering mornings when he’d said those words just that way when there had been no one else to hear.
She returned the greeting coolly and walked out more slowly than she would have normally, so he wouldn’t think he’d gotten to her.
And not ten minutes later he was there again.
At the gas station, she had swiped her credit card and inserted the nozzle into the gas tank. He pulled up behind her, then got out and stood, waiting for her to fill the tank. As if this were the only pump he could use. As if three of the seven other pumps weren’t empty. As if the people at those four occupied pumps weren’t gaping at them.
And he just stood there, arms once more crossed over his chest. As if he knew…knew that all he had to do was be to make her remember what it was like to have those arms hold her against that chest.
She turned her back to him and was telling herself that at least he wasn’t trying to talk to her when the pump clicked off because the tank was full. Before she could pull the nozzle completely out of her car, his hand wrapped around hers.
“Let me help you.”
That wretched smoky voice again. Making her think of… No.
“I don’t need your help.”
Wedding of the Century Page 5
