Lies of the Heart (3 page)

“I…I was invited.”

His dark brows came together in a deep frown. “Who did?”

“Gil?” she squeaked out, unsure of how he’d take it.

A mixture of dawning, shock, and denial entered his eyes. He dropped his hand and backed up a pace. “No.”

Guiltily, she nodded.

He jerked his head around. Tessa followed his line of vision, spotting Gil Lambert making his way to them among the suddenly quiet crowd with their eyes pinned to the unfolding drama. When the lawyer stopped near them and rocked back and forth on his heels, Chance demanded, “Tell me granddad didn’t include a Warfield…”

“Can’t do that, son. She’s here because she’s in your grandfather’s will.”

If Tessa had felt alone before, it was far worse now as Chance directed another accusatory look her way. She gulped hard and pasted a smile on her face, feeling the quiver in her cheeks at the effort it cost her.

Sitting there, hunched up on an old hard wooden crate in the box-laden stock room, she cupped her chin in her palms with her elbows on her knees. She followed his pacing in the cramped, musty quarters. Dust motes swirled around him and sailed to the bare light bulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling.

She sneezed loudly when the grime floated back down to her.

“God bless you,” Chance said, tossing the words over his shoulder.

“He’s the only one likely to,” she muttered under her breath. She wondered how in the world she’d figured she could easily slip in and out of this place tonight without fuss or fight. As usual her inquisitiveness had gotten her in another pickle.

The muffled raised voices of the bar’s patrons penetrated the flimsy door. They’d heard Gil declare she was in the will and weren’t taking it very well at all. Thankfully, Chance had ushered her quickly out of the ruckus, stashing her in this back room for her safety. A tender spot deep inside had throbbed to life at the endearing, protective gesture.

Now, she glanced at his foreboding features.
Dark and dangerous.
Instantly, she realized he was still that bad boy of yesteryear, still her family’s adversary, now more than ever. If he ever found out her secret…

She shivered at the disquieting thought of being cooped up with a growling panther, ready to attack. And she could very likely be his prey.

“I wish Gil would hurry up and get in here so we could get this over with,” she said, talking her thoughts aloud once again. The less time she spent in Chance’s company the better.

At the thought of never seeing him again her middle clenched and a sharp ache swept through her. As she drank in his rugged profile, she realized the buried feelings from her childhood not only still lingered, but also had grown.

She brushed the disturbing news aside, knowing she had to forget about the magic and concentrate on protecting her granny from this man.

Dragging a hand through his hair, he muttered, “What’s he up to now?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Gil?”

“No, granddad.”

Lifting a shoulder, she said, “Heck, if I know.” His lips didn’t even twitch at her attempt at humor. A trickle of fear grew in her chest. The day fun-loving Chance Deveraux didn’t crack even a teensy weensy smile stopped her cold.

He didn’t think she had anything to do with it, did he? She was certain if he thought about it hard enough he’d figure out she’d never be privy to his grandfather’s wishes when even he wasn’t. But somehow she doubted he could reason clearly with so many bottled up feelings swirling around inside him; she’d glimpsed the myriad of emotions chasing across his handsome features and sensed the thickening anxiety in the air.

And I’m the easiest one to blame, the best target to unleash all his anger on. Better me than a dead man he adored
.

Chance plopped down on a box across from her. Startled at his abrupt move, she dropped her hands and pulled back, stiffening her spine. He looked her square in the eye. Suspicion lurked in his. “How long have you known about this?”

She swallowed past the lump that suddenly formed in her throat. “Since this morning when Gil called. Thank heavens granny was out. She’d kill me if she knew I was even here.”

His doubts about her involvement seemed to melt away right before her. “Yeah, I guess it was a stretch thinking the Warfields had put granddad up to this.” He arched a brow. “Don’t tell me you’ve finally broken free of the chains your grandmother has on you.”

A wave of unease washed over her. He’d struck too close to the truth. “Granny’s just protective,” she argued, somehow the words rang hollow.

“Controlling, is more like it.” He paused, and then said, “So why did you show up tonight when you know good and well she’ll eventually find out? You didn’t have to, you know.”

Tessa avoided his penetrating stare, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle from her dark skirt. “Just curious, I guess.”
Curious about you, about how you would look and if you would remember…

Peeking at him from under her lashes, she inadvertently rested her gaze on his firm lips. She licked her own, somehow thinking she could still taste him after all these years.
Hot and wild.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw, saying, “So she doesn’t know you’re in the will or she’d be here…” He waved his hand, saying, ”Of course, now that I think about it, Granddad would have sworn everyone who knew about it to secrecy. He’d make certain she never knew a darn thing about that or anything else. Thank God for small favors or she’d be rubbing this in my face,” he muttered the last under his breath.

“What about yours?” Tessa asked, her voice squeaking as she realized what struck closest to his heart and what bothered him the most.
Betrayal.
“Maybe your grandmother knew and didn’t tell you either.”

She swore she actually saw a dagger of hurt slice across his face, and then nothing but taut, chiseled lines remained. In that instant, she put herself in his shoes. His family had turned on him.
How dishonest, how disloyal!

A cold, dull ache of empathy encompassed her chest, squeezing tight.
Lord, what would I do if granny ever kept something this important from me?
She couldn’t even imagine how much it would destroy her.

Compassion welled inside her. Leaning forward, she reached out, lightly touching his warm clasped hands. “I’m sorry…”

Suddenly the doorknob twisted, and then the door banged open. Tessa snatched her hand away and jumped back at the unwelcome intrusion. The noise from the outer room grew in frightening volume, chilling her to the bone. Chance rose swiftly as Gil, followed by Father Tom, entered, causing the room to shrink even more. The lawyer shoved the door closed, muffling the angry voices directed at her.

Tessa’s heart thumped faster. She scooted back on the box even more, hugging her knees to her chest. Gazing upward, she noted the anxious looks on the two older men’s faces. The stark beam of light revealed the creases and worry lines, while the shadows must have hid so much more.

“Well, child, I say we get this over with and get you out the back way, fast,” Father Tom’s said, his kindly features softening when his sympathetic gaze rested on her. He leaned over and patted her shoulder. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His firm assurance gave her some comfort. At least she had someone on her side. “Thanks, Father Tom.”

Gil cleared his throat, then said hurriedly, “Under the… ah…difficult circumstances, we can dispense with formality, if that’s all right with the two of you?” He looked to Chance as he withdrew a thick envelope from his inner suit pocket.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Chance said, a muscle jerking along his clenched jaw and his hands balled into fists.

“Tessa?” Gil asked softly, turning to her.

Nodding, she said, “I’m dying to find out why a Deveraux would put a Warfield in his will anyway. It’s gotta be some humiliating thing, right?” She’d racked her brain all day for an explanation and came up with the obvious: It was Gabe Deveraux’s last act of spite against the Warfields.

The attorney seemed to pale considerably, and then unfolded the official document. The crinkle of the paper grated in the raw atmosphere. She braced herself for the inevitable. Coughing gruffly, he began, “There are some smaller bequests for Gabe’s friends and his wife that we don’t need to go into here and now. Chance, you’re the main beneficiary. He left you the pub—”

“The pub?” His dark brows drew together in a deep frown. “Why in hell would he leave me the damn bar?”

Gil coughed, and then cleared his throat loudly. He tugged at his collar, loosening his tie in the process. “Ah… listen, Chance, I know about your…problem…”

Chance snorted. “You don’t need to sugarcoat it, Gil. I’m a drunk.”

“Recovering,” Father Tom said hastily. When Chance pinned him with a sharp look, the priest shrugged. “Your granddad mentioned that to me.”

The news slammed into Tessa. Studying Chance closely, she shivered, realizing she didn’t know him anymore, or who she had dreamed he had been. Maybe Granny was right all along; he was nothing but trouble with a capital T.

Gil sighed heavily. “He speculated that you would sell it and use the money for starting up that program for troubled teens, like you’ve always wanted to do.”

The stiffness seemed to siphon out of Chance. “Phew! I thought he’d want me to run the damn place.”

“Ah…” Gil choked out, “he does, for a time.”

“Christ, how am I going to work around booze? Didn’t he ever think of that?” His strained voice vibrated in the tiny space. Tension crackled like an electrical current around him.

Gil hesitated for a second, and then plunged in, saying, “There’s also a condition attached to selling.” For a long moment he stared fully at Tessa. “I’m sorry about this. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen to reason.”

Her heartbeat thudded in her chest. All the blood left her head, making her dizzy. “It involves me, doesn’t it?” It sounded like her voice came from a long distance away.

“Afraid so.”

Chance swore loudly and viciously. “Spit it out, Gil.”

“You have to keep the pub, run it for six months, bring it back into the black—”

“Not about the pub, about her.” Chance jerked his chin in Tessa’s direction.

“This part
is
about her.”

Thick, pulsating silence throbbed in the cramped stock room. Father Tom shuffled his feet. Tessa gulped hard, wondering what on earth she had to do with a watering hole, as granny called it.

Piping up, she asked, “I don’t have to give up my share in the beauty salon, do I? To help run this place?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Gil hastened to reassure her. “I only wish it were that simple… He, ah, says Chance can have it all on the condition that he put a stop to the feuding between the Deverauxs and the Warfields.”

Chance let out a harsh bark of laughter. “What does he think I am a miracle worker or something?”

His family had thrown him into the ring of a battle he didn’t want to nor had any inkling to halt, Tessa realized. A cold, hard stone lodged itself in her heart.
All our lives we’ve been conditioned to hate each other. Nothing in the last ten years has changed that.
There was no doubt about it; the man who’d stolen her heart years ago and stomped on it hated her and her granny.

Some kind of inner warning took hold of Tessa, gripping her in a wave of anxiety. However Chance was to go about this mending of ways, she knew it concerned her. Bravely, she asked in a choked whisper, "What do I have to do with it all?”

Looking from her, to Chance, and then back to her again, the lawyer said, “You two must marry.”

Chance silently closed his grandmother’s bedroom door. On the other side, she snored softly, sedated for the night. He blew out a hot breath. She’d known, too. It seemed granddad had talked it over with her some time ago and she’d reluctantly agreed.
Marriage to Tessa Warfield!

With a heavy ball of dread resting in his middle, he walked the few paces down the carpeted hall and into his old room. The light spilling in from the hallway revealed that much of it still looked the way it had the last time he was here. The double bed shoved against one wall, a dresser in the corner. On the walls hung poster after poster of motorcycles, his passion for more years than he cared to count.

A light, snapping on in the house across the street, drew him to his window. He pushed aside the sheer white panel and heavier blue drape to get a better view. He gulped hard. Directly across from his room, in her pretty pink and white bedroom, he watched Tessa slowly dance. Wonder rained down on him at her graceful ballerina moves.

“That’s right. She always wanted to be a dancer. I wonder why she didn’t ever become one…” Each gentle glide of her hand, each delicate arch of her body in her white leotard mesmerized him. Just watching her, he could almost hear the haunting music she danced to.

A low tug in his abdomen and the heat rushing through his blood shook him to his core. He wanted her. And he had for ages. Somewhere deep inside he finally fully acknowledged that fact. But, he figured, after years of following his wild side and getting into risky situations because of it, he’d learned his lesson. Surely he’d be able to squash any latent feelings for the sexy redhead. “No such luck,” he muttered, the knot of desire coiling a little tighter. He’d been closer to her tonight than ever before and he knew he wanted to get closer still.

He grimaced, and then ran a hand down his face. His gaze remained fixated on her fluid motions while his head hammered away at the yawning gap separating them. Much more than a street kept them apart.

“How could granddad do this to me?” he wondered for the hundredth time since hearing the news just a couple of hours ago. Inside he still reeled from it all. “He
knew
I never wanted to marry again.”

Marriage equaled disaster in his book. He didn’t owe Tessa Warfield anything, but he knew what a lousy husband he’d been in the past and wasn’t about to inflict any other woman with him ever again.