Breath of Scandal (47 page)

He plucked a twig from the tree and twirled it between his fingers. "We were living in Tallahassee. I was working for this slimy son of a bitch who assigned me a job out of town. I commuted home only on weekends. Debra hated the arrangement. I hated it even worse. At the time, we had no choice.

"She was getting depressed, so we planned a special weekend. I got home on a cold, wet Friday night. She had planned a big evening for us. " His voice became monotonal as he walked Jade through the house and told her what he had discovered on the bed in the master bedroom.

"They looked so perfect," he rasped. "There was no mess, no blood, no . . . " He made a gesture of misapprehension. "I thought they were asleep."

"What did you do?"

His eyes turned cold. "For one thing, I beat the shit out of the man who had kept me away from my family." "Good.-

"Then I stayed drunk for several months, shut myself off from everything, even the 'Companionship' you mentioned before. Once I resumed, I nailed any woman who said yes. Fat, skinny, ugly, pretty, old, young. It didn't matter, you know?" Jade shook her head. "Well, maybe You have to be a man to understand that."

"Maybe. "

"Anyway, I moved around a lot, stayed a loner until you offered me this job." He speared her with his eyes. "This is the first time in seven years I've got something to live for. I owe you thanks for that, Jade."

"You don't owe me anything except hard work for the money I pay you. So far I haven't been disappointed." He dropped the twig to the ground and dusted off his

hands. "I should have been at home with them."

"Why? So you could die in your sleep, too? Would that have made things better?"

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"I should have checked the furnace."

"And she shouldn't have turned it on before it was checked. "

"Don't be argumentative."

"Then don't talk crazy, Dillon. It was a tragic accident; no one's to blame. You can't go through your life trying to atone for something that wasn't your fault." She gazed at him for a moment. "Hearing you talk about it explains a lot. I knew the TexTile job was important to you. I didn't realize until now how much."

"I look on it as a second chance. I don't want to blow it." He slid down the trunk of the tree until he was sitting on his heels. "So now you know what motivates me. What about you?"

"A fantastic salary. Position and respect in a man's world. "

-Hmm. With all that going for you, why'd you come back to Palmetto?"

"Because GSS needed the community and the community needed this plant. As observant as you are, it can't have escaped your notice how depressed the economy is. Some of the people living around here still don't have indoor plumbing. They subsist on whatever food they can grow.

"TexTile is going to employ hundreds of people. Before we are even operational, I'm going to organize workshops and classes to teach necessary skills. Those who are hired will be paid a percentage of their salary even while they're in training. The plant will have daycare facilities so that more than one parent can work. There will be-"

"That's bullshit, Jade."

Her mouth went slack with astonishment. "What?"

"I said that's bullshit. It ail sounds terrific. On the  surface, you're drenched in altruism," he said, coming to his feet. "But if I dug deep enough, I'd find the real reason you want to build your plant here, and it isn't compassion for the poor and economically oppressed."

Straddling her legs with his, he gripped the ropes of the swing and stood in front of her, talking down into her upturned face.

"It has something to do with your fon-ner best friend and the sheriff she's married to, who might or might not be Graham's father. Mixed up in there somewhere are the Patchetts. There's no love lost between you and the bigwigs of this town."

"It's getting late. I've got to go."

She stood up, even though it meant making heart-stopping contact with the front of his body. She ducked beneath one of his arms and almost made good her escape before he caught her hand and brought her around.

"Not good enough, Jade."

"The reasons I gave you for wanting to build the plant here are genuine."

"I don't doubt that."

"Then why can't you just accept it and leave it alone?" "Because it doesn't jive. Someone who oozes that much Compassion for her fellow man would offer a needed kidney.

"No one is cutting Graham open and removing his kidney. I I

"Right--especially if the recipient is married to your former best friend and might be your son's father. " He took a step closer. "Did Jolly dump you for Donna Dee when you were pregnant and still in love with him?"

"I hated him."

"Now we're getting somewhere. Why?" "Leave me alone, Dillon."

"Not until I understand what's going on." "You're not supposed to understand."

"Why do you flinch every time a man comes near you?" "I don't flinch."

"The hell you don't," he said softly. "You nearly fainted a few seconds ago when your breasts came up against me. And the expression on your face when you discovered I'm hard defied description."

"I didn't notice."

"You're lying. Is Hutch Jolly the man who made you frigid?"

"I'm not frigid."

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"No'? Could have fooled me."

"Maybe I just don't find you attractive."

He linked his fingers at the back of her      neck beneath her hair where her skin was dewy from the       heat. "That's another lie, Jade." Ducking his head, he whisked his mustache across her lips. "You said yourself you liked my kiss. "

"I don't." "Liar." He touched the comer of her lips with his tongue. It was

thrilling, terrifying. His teasing caress made her hot and dizzy. She curled her hands into the front of his shirt, feeling the solid muscles beneath the cloth. His size and strength overwhelmed her; he could hurt her. He felt and smelled masculine. His maleness both seduced and repelled. She fought its appeal and her terror of it.

"Don't do this, Dillon," she begged against his seeking lips. "I can't replace her. No woman can."

His head snapped back. "What did you say?"

"I won't be one of those women you 'nail' in grief for your wife."

"Is that what you think you are, just another soft, wet route to forgetfulness?"

"It's possible, isn't it?"

He muttered an expletive. "Listen, if that's all I wanted, I could have a naked woman in my bed by nightfall." "But would she also have a teenage son?"

"Oh, I get it," he said tightly. "Graham is supposed to be a replacement for the son I lost."

"You've certainly made overtures to get close to him." His fury was as palpable as the heat. It shimmied through his body and into hers. He gave her a crude once-over, stopping at her breasts and at the tops of her thighs, before lifting his gaze back to her face. "You don't give yourself enough credit, Jade. Whether or not you had Graham, I'd still want to fuck you."

He turned and strode toward his parked pickup. Jade, now angry in her own right, charged after him. She caught

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up as he was climbing into the driver's seat. "If you persist in saying things like that to me, I'll have no choice except to dismiss you."

"Go ahead," he said with a belligerent jerk of his chin.

He was probably only calling her bluff to scare her, but it worked. The thought of his walking off the project now was sobering. Where would she find a contractor as good? What excuse would she give George Stein, who had nothing but glowing things to say about Dillon?

She tried another tack. "I'm still convinced that you're the best man for this job, Dillon."

"Thanks. "

"Don't you see that it wouldn't be smart for us to become lovers even if . . . if I could."

"I never claimed it was smart."

"It would permanently alter our good working relationship. Neither of us wants that, do we?"

"No. I I

"TexTile is too important to both of us. We can't let personal conflicts interfere with our work."

"If you say so."

"Then, you see my point?" "I see your point."

"And I have your word that you won't pursue this any further?"

"No way.

Until then, he had avoided looking directly at her. When he fixed his eyes on her, she felt their impact like a soft blow to the abdomen. Then he slid on his opaque sunglasses, and she couldn't see his eyes at all.

CHAPTER

Twenty-Five

"Son of a bitch." Graham kicked the flat tire of his bicycle. "Damnshitfuckscrew."

He luxuriated in saying all the words he heard from the construction workers-sometimes even from Dillon when Dillon didn't know he was around. If his mother caught him talking like that, she would ground him for a week at least. However, there was no one around now to hear him, so he let fly with another round of vulgarities.

He had finally won his mother's consent to ride his bike to and from the site, if he called her before leaving and didn't make any unscheduled stops along the way. He had made the trip only a few times when a spell of bad weather had set in. It had rained for a week. By the time the weather cleared, he had come down with a stomach virus that had him vomiting for one whole day, then lying listlessly in bed the next.

For several days following his illness, his mother had curtailed any vigorous activity. "If that was the summer flu, you could have a relapse."

"But, Mom, I feel great now."

There'd been no swaying her. So, this was the first day in almost two weeks that he'd been granted permission to visit the construction site, and now his tire had gone flat.

Graham looked down at it balefully - If he rode on it, he'd ruin it. He should roll his bike back home, but that would nix getting to visit the site today. If he rolled it to the site, he wouldn't make it by the expected time, and his mother would have a cow.

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Any way he looked at it, he was screwed.

A car sped past him, sending up a cloud of dust. Despite the recent rains, the following days had been so hot that the ground was dry again. Graham waved the dust out of his face, then shot the driver the finger.

Immediately, the brake lights of the car flashed on. "Oh, hell," Graham whispered fearfully. To his further mortification, the car began backing up. "Oh, shit." He licked the dust off his dry lips and wiped his perspiring palms on the seat of his shorts.

The candy-apple-red El Dorado rolled to a stop beside him. The tinted passenger window was lowered electronically. "Hey, boy."

Graham gulped down a wad of nervous spit. "Hi.- "Unless I'm mistaken, you shot me the bird." Graham's knees turned to jelly. He had to pee real bad. "Yes, sir."

"How come?"

-I, uh, I nearly choked on the dust you raised." Then, not wanting to be a total wimp, he added, "I think you were speeding."

The driver laughed. "Hell, boy, I'm always speeding. I've got places to go and people to see. " He nodded toward the bike. " Looks to me like you're in trouble."

"My tire went flat." "Where were you headed?"

"Out where they're building the TexTile plant." "Hmm." The driver tipped down his sunglasses and peered at Graham over the frames. "That's in the opposite direction from where I'm going, but I reckon I could give you a lift out there."

"Oh, no thanks. I'll-" "Your bike'll fit in the trunk."

"Thanks anyway, sir, but I don't think I'd better." "You're Jade's boy, aren't you?"

Graham was momentarily taken aback. "Yes, sir. How'd you know?"

"What's your name again?" "Graharn.-

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"That's right, Graham. Well, Graham, me and your mama have known each other since grade school. Maybe she's mentioned me-Neal Patchett?"

The name was vaguely familiar. Graham was sure his mother had talked about some people named Patchett. "Does she know your father, too?"

"That's right," Neal replied with a wide grin. "His name's Ivan. Did you know that a freight train chopped off his legs clean as a whistle?"

As with most boys his age, Graham was fascinated by gore. "Jeez. No kiddin'T'

"That's a fact. Right here above his knees. It was a real mess. " He depressed a button in the glove compartment and the lid of the trunk popped open. "Put your bike in there and climb in. I'll be more'n pleased to give you a lift.-

Graham had been forbidden to accept rides from strangers, but he knew who this man was, and his mother knew him, too. If he didn't ride with him, he'd be stuck out on the road and still uncertain about what he should do. All things considered, it was his best option.

He rolled his bicycle to the rear of the car and lifted it into the trunk. He had to rearrange the fishing gear and two shotguns stowed there, but was finally able to fit his bike inside and close the lid.

The luxurious leather interior of the car made him selfconscious of his dusty sneakers. His sweaty, bare legs stuck to the seat. But after being out in the hot sun, it felt good. "All set?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Cut out that 'sir' shit, okay? Just call me Neal." "Thanks. "

Neal asked him how he was liking Palmetto. Graham answered all his questions politely. They had gone almost a mile before he said uneasily, "Mr. Patchett, we need to turn around. The site's the other way. "

"Hell, I know that. But I thought we'd get your flat fixed while we're at it. I know this mechanic who'll do it for fi-ee.

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While we're waiting, we'll have a cold drink. Doesn't that sound good?"

"I guess so."

A drink did sound good. He was parched. He might be a few minutes late getting to his mother's office, but consoled himself with the thought that it couldn't take much longer to have the flat fixed than it would have taken him to ride the rest of the way on his bike. As soon as they left the garage, he'd tell Mr. Patchett to step on it. The slick Cadillac would get them to the site in no time, a hell of a lot faster than he could pedal it.