“You know, for some reason that amount sticks in my mind. I seem to connect 1,678 with you, Peyton.”
“It couldn’t possibly be the exact amount you’ve lost to me in our friendly little poker games over the last few months, could it?
“Well, well, that must be the reason.”
“Clayburn, you’re not going to get that money out of me. Tallie won’t jump bail.”
“Not intentionally,” the judge said, chuckling loudly. “But knowing Tallie, she just might take that tow truck of hers into Mississippi without even thinking, and if she does, and if I have a mind to, I can rule that she’s jumped bail.”
Clayburn Proctor was a wily old fox who enjoyed his games. Peyton wouldn’t put anything past him. If anyone else had been posting Tallie’s bail, Clayburn would have named a different amount, but the judge couldn’t resist the chance to needle Peyton. “You wouldn’t do that to Tallie.”
“Probably not,” Clayburn admitted. “We’re both under that girl’s spell, aren’t we, Peyt? Like everybody else in these parts.”
“You may be under her spell, but I’m damn well not!” Peyton had never been under any woman’s spell and most definitely not Tallie Bishop’s. She was five-feet-two-inches of pure trouble. She’d been a pest as long as he’d known her, ever since she’d been a kid and traipsed around after him and her brothers when they went hunting and fishing. And, dammit all, when she’d turned sixteen and fancied herself in love with him, she’d nearly driven him crazy until he’d persuaded her that there could never be anything romantic between them.
“Don’t protest so much,” Clayburn said. “Folks will assume you’ve got something to hide.”
“Thanks again for setting bail, odd amount or not,” Peyton said, deliberately changing the subject. He was not interested in Tallie Bishop, most definitely not in the way Clayburn Proctor was suggesting. They were barely friends. He tried to look out for her as a favor to her brothers and because somebody had to do it. There was nothing more to their relationship than that—absolutely nothing.
* * *
Standing in the doorway, Peyton watched Tallie while she made the rounds up and down the pens in the animal shelter. When she and Susan Williams, the shelter manager, stopped by the pen that housed Solomon, the huge dog reared up against the wire gate, his head towering over the two women.
The moment Susan opened the gate, Solomon jumped down and loped out toward Tallie. Squatting beside the Great Dane, Tallie gave him a hug, then ran her hand down his back in a loving pet.
“Did you think you were doomed to life in this prison?” Tallie’s voice held the same soft, even quality a mother uses when reassuring a child. “Well, Peyt and I have come to take you home, but you’ll have to be on your best behavior because you’ll be riding in Peyt’s Jaguar.”
Good God! He hadn’t thought about that when he’d offered to drive Tallie and Solomon home. That dog was the size of a pony. Peyton felt like kicking himself. Why hadn’t he let her call on someone else for taxi service? Why did he think it was his responsibility to make sure she got home safe and sound?
“Where’s your truck?” Susan asked as they walked into the outer office area where a volunteer manned the reception desk.
“Mike picked it up at the Nolans’ and took it back to the garage.” When Tallie stopped, Solomon came to heel without a word from his mistress. “We didn’t know whether or not I’d be spending the night in jail.” Smiling, she cut her eyes in Peyton’s direction. “Lowell let me bring Solomon along in the police car, and I certainly appreciate y’all taking care of him for me.”
“Good gracious, Tallie, taking care of Solomon is the least we could do for our number-one volunteer,” Susan said. “Mr. Rand, we’re certainly glad you were able to get Tallie out of jail so fast. I just can’t believe she’ll have to stand trial for protecting a child and his dog.”
“Well, Ms. Williams, Tallie did shoot a man.” Peyton knew it was useless to point out Tallie’s faults to any of her many admirers, and Susan Williams was no exception. “I expect once I present the evidence, Judge Proctor will go easy on her.”
“As well he should,” Susan said. “I just wish we could get Loretta to take those children and leave Cliff Nolan. If she doesn’t, he’ll wind up killing one of them sooner or later.”
“Tallie, we really should be going.” Peyton nodded toward the front door. “I’ve taken off all afternoon, but I need to get back to Jackson. I have a dinner engagement in Marshallton this evening.”
“Sure thing.” Tallie, her dog at her side, gave Susan a quick hug. “Thanks again. Come on, Solomon.”
Just as Peyton opened the door and stepped outside, the telephone rang. When the volunteer informed Susan that the call was for her, Tallie followed Peyton outside. But before they made it to the car, Susan stuck her head out the door and called to Tallie.
“Wait up,” Susan said. “Tallie, I need to talk to you for just a minute. It’s important, or I wouldn’t hold you up like this.”
Tallie gave Peyton a questioning look. “Do you mind terribly? I promise I’ll hurry.”
“Two minutes.” Peyton tapped the face of his Rolex.
“Stay, Solomon,” Tallie ordered, then rushed to the entrance of the animal shelter where Susan stood waiting.
Peyton leaned against the side of his car, his tense body striving for relaxation. Reaching inside his coat pocket, he removed his sunglasses and put them on, then crossed his arms over his chest.
He didn’t have time for this delay, whatever the cause. He’d had his secretary clear his calendar for the afternoon because he hadn’t had any idea how long this latest “Tallie rescue” would take. But he and Donna had plans to dine with Marshallton’s mayor tonight. Peyton wanted to get his old friend’s thoughts on the possibility of running for governor in the next election.
Peyton glanced over at Tallie. The late-afternoon sun caught in her raven hair, giving it a blue-black luster. She kept her dark curly hair cropped short, in an almost boyish style, but there was nothing boyish about that baby-doll face, those long, thick eyelashes, that full pink mouth. Damn, why couldn’t she have stayed skinny and flat-chested, the way she’d been at sixteen when she’d professed her undying love and he’d gently rejected her? Somewhere between the age of sixteen, when Caleb, the youngest of the Bishop boys, had left for college on a baseball scholarship and had asked Peyton to look out for his little sister, and the age of eighteen, Tallie Bishop had blossomed. Actually, she’d over-blossomed. Her body had filled out in all the right places, creating an hourglass-shaped body on a petite frame.
Peyton noticed the way her frayed blue jeans clung to her hips and legs. She wore a grease-stained short-sleeved chambray shirt, tucked beneath the waistband in the back and hanging loose in the front. Underneath the unbuttoned shirt, her full breasts strained against a faded yellow T-shirt. On a less well endowed woman, the clothes would have looked masculine. On Tallie, they looked damned sexy. And that was the problem. For the past eight years, men had been ogling Tallie, despite her tomboyish ways. She’d had her pick of most young bucks in the county, dating every good-looking Tom, Dick and Harry. On more than one occasion, she’d coldcocked some overzealous suitor. Trouble sought Tallie the way a moth seeks a flame.
And it wasn’t just the men who couldn’t take no for an answer that caused problems, it was Tallie’s constant interference in other people’s lives. He had to admit that she was a good citizen, working in her spare time as a volunteer fire fighter for Crooked Oak as well as a helper at the Humane Shelter. But more often than not, Tallie let her concern overshadow her better judgment. Case in point—filling Cliff Nolan full of birdshot. But there was always something. Her love for animals had gotten her into trouble with Lobo Smothers, an illiterate farmer suspected of illegal hunting and trapping. Tallie had been doing everything in her power to help the authorities catch him and put him in jail. Needless to say, she and Lobo weren’t the best of friends. And there were her
endless efforts to get abused women to leave their husbands and start new lives. Cliff Nolan wasn’t the only husband in Crooked Oak who had a bone to pick with Tallie.
What the hell was Peyton going to do about her if he did decide to run for governor? There was no way the woman would ever change, and having his name linked with hers in connection to one of her wild exploits was bound to damage his image.
His image? His old man had always cared about the Rand family’s image, and it had been one of the things he’d despised about his father. If he did decide to enter politics, would he become more and more like Senator Marshall Rand? His father had died a lonely and unhappy man. Peyton didn’t want to follow in his footsteps.
“Ready?” Tallie asked.
Peyton stared at her, unaware until she’d spoken that she had approached the car. “All finished with Susan?”
“Ah...yeah...just some shelter business.” Tallie opened the passenger door, ordered Solomon inside and slipped into the seat.
Peyton didn’t like the way she’d answered him. She was hiding something. Tallie was so damned honest, the truth showed on her face whenever she tried to lie. Pink spots stained her cheeks. Getting into the Jag, he started the engine. “What sort of business?”
“Huh?”
“What’s up, Tallie?” Peyton backed out of the parking area. “If this is something that’s going to cause me any more problems, then let me hear it now.”
“What makes you think this has anything to do with you?” Sticking out her chin, Tallie crossed her arms under her bosom.
“If it’s not something that could get you into trouble, then why won’t you tell me?” Turning the car onto the highway, Peyton glanced over at Tallie and wished he hadn’t. Her slender, crisscrossed arms had boosted her full breasts up and out, reminding him of how truly female she was.
“An anonymous caller told Susan that he had information about where Lobo Smothers had set up some traps, out toward Kingsley Hill.”
Peyton groaned, then glanced over at Tallie. “Stay out of it. Give the information to Lowell and let him handle it.”
“I could do that, but it won’t do any good. Lobo Smothers always seems to be one step ahead of the law.”
“Lowell Redman is just newly elected. Give him a chance.”
“The last time I shared information with the sheriff’s department, they arrived at the scene to find no traps, and no Lobo. I told you then that Lowell’s got a rat working for him. I just haven’t figured out who it is yet, but I will.”
“Tallie, stay away from Lobo Smothers.” Peyton issued the command in a tight, controlled voice. “The man is dangerous.”
“All the more reason that he should be behind bars! Besides, rumor has it that Lobo is growing marijuana out there in the woods somewhere. If his abuse of animals won’t stir the law into action, maybe his being in the drug racket will.”
“Whatever Lobo Smothers is doing, let the law handle it! Dammit, woman, you’re in enough trouble. In another week or two, you’ll be going to trial for shooting a man full of birdshot. You do realize that if Lowell Redman wasn’t a friend and if Clayburn Proctor didn’t think you were a saint for saving his grandson’s life, you could do some serious jail time for what you did.”
“I was defending a poor, helpless child and a pitiful little dog from a monstrous brute.” Solomon growled as if agreeing with his mistress.
“Tallie, I’ve been getting you out of trouble for years now, and I’m sick and tired of it. I’ve tried to talk reason to you, but you refuse to listen.”
“There’s no need for you to waste any more of your valuable time, Peyton,” Tallie said, refusing to look in his direction. “Just drop Solomon and me off at the garage.”
“Fine. I’m probably running late, as it is.”
“Well, that’s just awful, isn’t it? You sure wouldn’t want to keep Donna Fields waiting.”
“No, I wouldn’t want to keep Donna waiting. Ladies like Donna are accustomed to a certain kind of behavior from the men they date...like being punctual for dinner.”
“Ladies like Donna?” Tallie turned in her seat, stretching the safety belt to its limit when she leaned toward Peyton. “A lady whose grandfather was governor and whose uncle is a federal judge? A lady professor with blue blood in her veins? My, my, a lady like that could do a lot for a man with political aspirations. Just think what a wife she’d make for someone with his eye on the state capitol.”
Peyton glanced at Tallie and then back at the road. He knew she was trying to goad him into a fight. She was implying that his only interest in Donna was her suitability, and he didn’t like to think he’d become so much like his father, he would consider marrying a woman just because she and her family could help him politically.
“Donna is a very special lady. I’ll have to introduce you to her sometime.” Peyton turned off the highway into the parking area for the garage and tow-truck company Tallie owned and operated with Mike Hanley and his sister, Sheila Vance.
“Spare me.” The moment Peyton killed the engine, Tallie opened the door. “I doubt Donna Fields and I have anything in common. Someone with blood as blue as hers would probably be offended by a little ol’ redneck like me.”
Peyton laughed at the thought of introducing Donna and Tallie. The funny thing was, he had the oddest notion that once they met, the two women would actually like each other. “Don’t count Donna short just because of who she is. She’s not a snob.”
Tallie got out of the Jag, then ordered Solomon to join her. “Well, you and Donna have a pleasant dinner tonight, and don’t you worry about me. There’s not one reason for you to bother with me again until my trial.”
“I hope you’re right,” Peyton said. “I’ll call you when Clayburn lets me know about the trial date.”
“Fine.” Leaving the door open, Tallie walked away, then stopped and turned around. “Thanks, Peyt. I...well, just thanks.”
“Tallie?”
“Huh?” She walked back over to the Jag. “Let Lowell Redman handle Lobo Smothers.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I mean it. You stay out of trouble.”
“I’ll try.” She slammed the door.
Waiting until Tallie and Solomon disappeared inside the garage, Peyton pulled the Jag out onto the highway and headed toward Jackson. Something told him that he’d be seeing Tallie again before the trial. If she stayed out of trouble for two weeks, it would be a minor miracle.
Two
Peyton placed the stadium seats on the metal bleachers and assisted Donna into her place at his right while his brother Spence sat down on his left. Since his brother had married Pattie Cornell and become the instant father of two teenagers, Peyton had taken his role as an uncle quite seriously. J.J., Spence’s stepson, was a varsity player on Marshallton High’s baseball team, and Peyton tried to make as many Saturday-night games as possible, but this was the first time he’d asked Donna to accompany him.
Over the last ten years since Peyton had devoted himself to building a successful private practice, he’d given up more and more of his leisure time and had forfeited a personal life altogether. He’d dated a lot, but had never become seriously involved. Between work and his duties as Tallie’s guardian angel, he hadn’t found a woman willing to accept the limited time he had to offer a relationship.
Several months ago, he’d met Donna at a political fund-raiser. They had liked each other immediately, and when he’d asked her out, she’d accepted. She didn’t seem to mind that he was dedicated to his career. She taught history at a local college and was devoted to her students. Although half the state of Tennessee already had them engaged, they considered themselves good friends, neither of them in a hurry to commit to anything more.
“I hope you aren’t doing this just to be a good sport,” Peyton said to Donna. “I know coming to a high school baseball game is hardly the ideal date.”
“Don’t be silly.” Donna smiled, her cinnamon-brown eyes sparkling with warm
th. “I really like your brother and his family. And this is a real treat. I’ve never been to a baseball game.”
“Sweetbriar Seminary for Young Ladies didn’t have a baseball team?”
“We had a volleyball team, but I didn’t play and seldom went to the games. I lived with my nose stuck in a book. And in college, I was too busy keeping up my grades to waste time on anything except the football games Uncle James took me to when he visited his alma mater.”
Peyton laughed, trying to imagine Donna as a college girl. At thirty, she was such a serious-minded woman that he had a difficult time thinking of her any other way.
Spence punched Peyton in the ribs. “You two ready to get something from the concession stand? It’s our treat since we invited y’all to the game.”
Pattie Rand leaned over her husband to touch Peyton’s arm. “Why don’t you and Spence take our orders and go for the food while Donna and I get better acquainted.”
Although Peyton knew Pattie would give Donna the third degree while he and Spence were at the concession stand, he reluctantly agreed. The lines at the stand were long. Undoubtedly most baseball fans had decided to dine at the field tonight. The aroma of hamburgers and potatoes frying mixed with the milder smell of hot dogs and cotton candy, while the mouth-watering scent of roasted peanuts wafted through the early-evening air.
Peyton glanced around at the multitude of ball fields that comprised this section of the park, then past the enormous parking area to the lighted tennis courts, the outdoor Olympic-sized pool and the newly constructed recreation center.
“This is quite some place, isn’t it? There was nothing around here like this when we were kids playing ball.” Spence put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We did good, don’t you think, donating most of the old man’s money to build this place.”
“Yeah.” Peyton knew how difficult it had been for Spence to agree to christening this modern recreational facility the Marshall Rand Memorial Park. Spence had hated the old man, and hadn’t gotten along with Peyt for years because he’d once thought him a carbon copy of their father.
Nothing but Trouble Page 2
