Not Another New Year’s (22 page)

Which sounded to him as if Hannah had waited years for a man who had never held her heart.

Tanner was a nice guy, when all was said and done. He had his dark moods and his frustrated desires, but in the end he was capable of sympathy for others. Now, looking at Hannah’s pretty, pensive face, he waited for it to fill him.

After a few moments he amended his expectations and waited for a trickle.

Okay, he’d settle for a drop.

Finally he gave up, pushed her flat on her back and applied himself to kissing her into his same, mindless state.

Because he wasn’t thinking of unpleasant things again.

All was right with his world. Things were still going his way.

He sailed through the remainder of the afternoon. A shower, fresh clothes, and some food later, he and Hannah unlocked the door to Hart’s. Pumping music through the speakers, smelling the oil starting to heat in the deep fryer, watching Hannah do what she could to help out before opening time, Tanner relaxed into the rhythm of work.

He didn’t think about what day it was or what happened a year ago on this same date.

All was right with his world.

They’d advertised a special on draft beer, so the place was crowded. That helped too, keeping him, Hannah, and the rest of the staff running ragged.

Longtime friends showed up, and if he’d had the time, he might have been more suspicious—or grateful—about that. As it was, he had his hands full keeping everyone in beers and what ever else.

As closing time neared, the place started to clear out. Hannah took a break on the last stool at the bar, moaning something about her sore feet while Tanner took over from Bartender Jack, who had a late night/early morning date. He slid a glass of chardonnay in front of the dark-haired babe who was going home with him that night. She took a grateful sip and then he took it away from her again to take a swallow himself, turning the glass so his lips touched the same place as hers.

Her eyes widened.

His probably did too. It was an unpremeditated, gag-him-if-some-other-guy-had-done-it gesture, and
totally out of character. Except anniversary night was almost over, and he was still floating on a tide of well-being.

Or mind-blowing sex.

Take your pick.

A half hour before they were scheduled to lock the front door, Finn and Bailey walked in. His one-eyed buddy was walking loose-hipped and wearing a smug smile, so Tanner figured Bailey had worked a little girl magic on him too.

They plopped onto the stools next to Hannah’s and he passed around drinks and baskets of pretzels. Then the front door opened again and Geoff Brooks hobbled in on crutches.

Hannah rushed over to help him, looking as surprised as the rest of them. “What are you doing here?” she asked, settling him at a table and propping his casted leg on a second chair.

Finn and Bailey moved from the bar to the table, and after Tanner brought over a whiskey for his old boss, he joined the rest of them. The group quieted as Geoff lifted his drink.

Finn raised his coffee cup. Bailey her wineglass. Hannah handed off her goblet to Tanner.

He squeezed the stem, his stomach starting to churn, then found himself distracted as Hannah folded her fingers over his free hand. Glancing over at her, he saw her knuckle away a tear.

Finn’s face was hard as a mask.

Bailey’s eyes were big, and trained on her man’s face.

Geoff cleared his throat.

A year ago they’d lost a comrade, Finn had lost his
eye and his ability to do his job, Tanner had lost hope that he’d ever mea sure up to the rest of his family.

“To missing friends, old friends, and a new year of new beginnings,” Geoff said.

Glasses met, clacked, and they all sipped. Then silence fell over them like a shroud.

Awkward glances chased around the table. What had happened to Finn’s confident swagger? Tanner wondered. Or his own unflagging feeling of well-being?

He looked over at Hannah, desperate to fight clear of the dark, descending mood. She scooted closer and rubbed his forearm with her free hand. “It’s going to be all right,” she whispered.

His chest loosened. It
would
be all right. To night, with her in bed next to him, it was going to be all right again.

She stood up, releasing his hand to pat his shoulder. “I’ll get Finn some more coffee,” she said, and started to walk behind her uncle in the direction of the bar. One foot caught on something—probably a sticky spill on the linoleum—and she bent down to adjust the back strap of her black high heel.

Geoff flicked his wrist and polished off the rest of his whiskey. The empty glass landed with a hollow click against the tabletop.

“Well, Hart,” he said, shifting his gaze toward Tanner. “It looks as if being my niece’s tour guide didn’t do you any harm.”

Oh, hell, Tanner thought, his sixth sense suddenly smelling trouble. He sat straight in his chair and his eyes darted to Hannah who was rising out of her crouch just a few feet away. “Sir—”

“And since she looks happy, I’m happy.”

Hannah stood behind her uncle, frozen in place.

“Sir—”

“I consider our deal done. Your ten days of TLC places you back on the team. I know you’ve been chomping at the bit to return, so as soon as you get Hannah on a plane back home, then get your butt back into the San Diego office.”

“Sure. Great. Thank you. I will, sir.” The words tumbled out, but he only had eyes for Hannah. She was staring at his face while all the color left hers.

Though she didn’t make a sound, he could read the single word running through her head, souring what should have been a happy moment for him. Making all that was right, wrong.

That one word she was so familiar with.

Betrayal.

S
tunned by the revelation of Tanner’s bargain with her uncle Geoff—apparently making a pitiful, dumped old maid euphemistically “happy” bought him back a place in the Secret Service—Hannah didn’t recover quickly enough to get herself a ride away from the bar with Finn and Bailey or even with her uncle. So she was stuck with Tanner as they completed the closing tasks, though neither one of them said a word to the other.

She didn’t think she needed to say anything to him. The wary way he gave her a wide berth made it clear that he knew she was aware of what he’d done.

Gone behind her back.

Pretended an interest he didn’t feel.

Duped her.

Been there, done that, had been wearing the engagement ring the first time it happened. This time…oh, God. This time she was wild in love with the man who did her wrong. The warmth and affection she’d had for Duncan was a matchstick compared to this firestorm that burned inside her for Tanner.

No. Stop. Of course there was no firestorm.

She didn’t love Tanner! A woman couldn’t love a man who’d used her for his own ends, right? She’d just imagined herself in love with him, thanks to mojitos and New Year’s and the new beginning she needed to her life. It had been a bad combination that temporarily addled her.

Now that she remembered she was still a sensible, inhibited, schoolmarm of a woman, she had come to her senses.

Schoolmarms never fell in love with scoundrels.

So there it was. A small mistake in the diagnosis of her feelings, but she’d already dragged out the red pencil and made the necessary correction. Good to go.

Drying her hands on a paper towel, she glanced at Tanner, who she suspected had been stalling. Probably afraid to climb inside the confined space of his car with her.

“I’m done,” she said briskly. “Are you ready?”

He was looking at her from the corner of his eye. “Sure. Yeah. Let’s leave.”

It was no more than four minutes back to his house. To Hannah, who was never comfortable riding in a car anyway, it seemed more like forty. As they pulled
into the garage, she put her hand on the passenger door handle, eager to make her escape.

“Hannah.” Tanner curled his fingers on her other arm.

She wished he wouldn’t touch her.

“Look,” he said. “It’s not what you think.”

“Think? It’s been a long day, and I’m not thinking of anything but going to bed.”

Oh, God.
Bed.
The word clunked between them like a hammer hitting cement. She couldn’t go to bed with him to night. But he’d suspect something, wouldn’t he? He’d jump to the wrong conclusion that he had hurt her if she tried taking a blanket and a pillow to the living room couch.

He’d be wrong, but he might even get the impression she cared about him, despite the smarmy tactics he’d used to get back in the Secret Ser vice. Boy, she must be
really
tired, she thought, because there was a sting of exhausted tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

But she knew she just couldn’t lie beside him ever again, not when the memory of the last time was still so fresh in her mind. She closed her eyes and could still feel the play of sun on her bare skin and the deep, searing way that Tanner had invaded her…her soul.

No. Her soul was still her own, thank you very much. Intact, and like her heart, hard as a second-grader’s glazed-clay pencil cup fired overnight in the Harold Mott Elementary School kiln.

“Hannah, I know you suppose what happened between us was a…a ploy on my part.”

She was going to keep her cool. “Don’t be silly. I don’t suppose anything. I
know
what happened between us was a ploy on your part.” Whoops. That didn’t sound so cool.

Wrapping her dignity around her, she wrenched her arm from Tanner’s hold and scrambled out of the car. Then she stumbled into the kitchen and tried to think what to do next.

Where did they keep the lesson plans for moments like this?

Behind her, he slammed the door to the garage as she busied herself at the sink, pretending she needed water.

“I’m going to take a shower, then I’m going to sleep,” he said.

She brought her glass to her mouth so she didn’t have to answer. Then he was gone, and while the shower ran, she rushed around, gathering up her belongings and stashing them by the front door. As soon as it was light, she would leave for good.

Maybe she could even manage to depart without facing Tanner one last time, she realized. He’d done as he’d said, showered, and gone to bed, leaving her to huddle alone on the couch in the living room. Reading didn’t work this time. For a few hours she watched television, her gaze shifting every few minutes to the windows, alert for the first glimmers of dawn. She had an appointment to keep in the morning before she left Coronado for home.

The sky was going from night to the gray-blue of almost-sunrise when Tanner stalked into the living room, a towel wrapped around his hips. She supposed he’d been sleeping naked.

The infomercial on the big screen was fascinating. As soon as she got home, she was going to order herself one of these 350-piece kits that you could use to set crystal rhinestones and metal studs onto any surface.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tanner grated out. “Why haven’t you come to bed?”

“Did you know that you can embellish ordinary wax candles and give them as stunning Christmas gifts?” she asked from her place on the couch. It was the corduroy one he’d shown her to on New Year’s Eve. It was long and wide, with about half a dozen plaid pillows piled in one corner. “Or you can use the winky-blinky little doodads to make inexpensive sheet sets look more classy, like something you’d find at a boutique hotel.”

That’s where she’d gone wrong. Moving in with Desirée at the luxurious Hotel Del Coronado, then moving to Tanner’s. She should have found herself a plain old Motel 6, like the plain old maid she was. Everyone knew they left the light on for you there.

Here, Tanner had lit the fuse on hers, then smothered it out.

He sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch, blocking her view of the info-hostess using the special portable tool to put glittering stars on hanging draperies. “Your uncle asked, and I agreed to show you around town. You know that. You knew that from the beginning.”

She noted that the towel was still damp from his earlier shower and the coffee table had a lovely wood finish. “I know you need a coaster under your butt.”

“Hannah.” He pushed the heels of his hands into
his eyes. “Don’t do this. We’ve had fun, right? Don’t make it less than that.”

“Less than ‘fun’?” She straightened, her temper kindling, then grabbed one of the pillows and sat back, holding it tight against her stomach. Holding in anything that would give the (mistaken) impression she was hurt. “Well, I’ll give you that it wasn’t anything
more
than fun, does that work for you?”

“All right.” His voice was weary. “I’m going back to bed. Please come with me and get some shut-eye.”

“I need to see this segment they’re doing with feathers and lamp shades. I’m not sure how the stud-setter comes into play.”

As she spoke, his gaze drifted over her head, toward the front door. It narrowed, then jerked back to her face. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“I was with you when you picked up your replacement ticket, remember? It doesn’t leave for two more days.”

She glanced out the window, noting the pale color of the sky. “I’m leaving earlier. I’m leaving today.”

“Damn it, Hannah—”

“I’m sorry to end our ‘fun’ early, but I need to get back.” As soon as she tracked down Caroline.

“You mean you need to get away from me. Hell, Hannah! I did
not
plan this…this…” His hand waved between them. “If you want to know the truth, I resisted like hell. It was absolutely the wrong time for me and for this…this…”

“Fun?” she supplied sweetly.

A muscle in his jaw throbbed. “I told your uncle I
would show you around. I did
not
plan on that including a tour of my bed. That just happened.”

“But it made Uncle Geoff ’s niece especially happy, right? And you’d do anything for the cause? Your
personal
cause?”

“Hannah—”

“Admit you never really cared about me. It was always about something else.” She hated the way her voice was rising and threatening to break. All the red pencils in the world couldn’t correct the wrong impression she was giving him, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “It was about the sex or about the job, or maybe some of both. But it was never about
me.
”

He shook his head. “I would kill Duncan if that valiant asshole wasn’t already dead.”

“Duncan?”

“It’s his fault or maybe your wrap-you-in-Deborah’s-cotton-wool parents. Why do you think so little of yourself, Hannah? How can you immediately leap to the conclusion that I wasn’t with you for you? That I’m just another man ready to betray you like that? When this started, I was trying to
help
you.”

“‘Help’ me?”

“Wait, that didn’t come out right. I—”

“‘Help me’?”
She was on her feet too. She didn’t know how that had happened, but her soles were flat on the hardwood floor, her knees were locked, and she was pulsing with an anger that filled her veins—evaporating any last vestiges of the blue starch that she would welcome now.

“That’s what you call what you’ve done—helping me?” Her heart, which was supposed to be so strong,
now felt like flimsy paper that someone had cut into a dozen pieces with dull, kindergarten-style scissors. “Then you, Tanner, have leaped to a conclusion too—that you’re some sort of hero.”

He stepped back. The tension left his shoulders and his eyes dulled. “So it’s me you think so little of then,” he said. “And you’re right. So goddamn right. Everyone knows I’m no hero.”

Without another word he stalked toward the bedroom at the back of the house.

Anger and despair warred inside of her. With a thousand words dancing on the tip of her tongue, too many of them desperate to call him back, she rushed in the opposite direction. At the front door she gathered her duffel bag and hurried away from Tanner and into the now sunny morning.