Susan Mallery Fool's Gold Series Volume One: Chasing Perfect\Almost Perfect\Sister of the Bride\Finding Perfect (64 page)

“It's complicated,” Ethan described, drawing Liz to her feet and putting his hand on Tyler's shoulders. “There were extenuating circumstances.”

“I don't care about that,” Tyler argued stubbornly.

Abby looked uncomfortable. Liz took her hand and smiled reassuringly.

“You should be married,” their son announced.

Liz held in a groan. “An interesting idea,” she said lightly. “But not one we're going to discuss right now and certainly not here.”

“But I—”

“You heard your mother,” Ethan reiterated firmly. “She has a signing. This isn't the time to deal with the subject. We'll talk later.”

“I want to talk now!”

“Come on, Tyler,” Ethan said firmly. He glanced at her. “All right with you?”

She nodded and Ethan led Tyler away.

Abby hovered close by. “Should I go?”

“I thought you wanted to be with me for the first part of the signing. It's okay. Really. Why don't you come with me until you meet with your friends at one-thirty?”

“Okay.”

They walked toward the booths at the far end of the park.

“Tyler's mad,” Abby observed.

“I know.”

“He said he always wanted a dad, but you wouldn't talk about his. He didn't know how to make you. Sometimes he got really sad and stuff.”

Liz didn't know if she wanted to hear more or not. “I remember he would ask a lot. It's complicated.”

“Grown-ups always say that, but if you don't tell us stuff, how can we learn?”

Liz smiled. “You're pretty smart.”

“I know.” Abby grinned.

The preteen's point was a good one. Maybe it was time to explain the truth to Tyler. That Liz hadn't exactly pressed for Ethan to know about his son, and
later fate, in the form of Rayanne, had intervened. She would discuss the idea with Ethan later.

Liz saw the signs pointing toward the signing area and was surprised at how many people had already lined up. Rather than go through the crowd, she and Abby went around, down by the lake, then back up through the trees.

“Do I have leaves in my hair?” Liz asked as they broke through several bushes and came out behind the booth where she would be signing. “I don't want to look—”

She came to a stop and stared at the stacks of boxes from her publisher. There were at least a dozen. Maybe more. Both hardcovers and paperbacks.

Liz held in a groan. Montana seemed to have gotten ahead of herself. Enthusiasm was great, but if a significant percentage of the books didn't sell, Liz's publisher wasn't going to be happy.

She saw her assistant Peggy waiting by the table and hugged her. “You came.”

“How could I miss this?” Peggy asked. “The great book signing caper. This is a lot of inventory.”

“Tell me about it.”

Liz introduced Peggy and Abby.

“I was feeling guilty about wanting to look at the quilts,” Peggy conceded with a laugh, “but you're going to be busy for a while.”

“Yes, there's plenty of time to come back later.”

“You're here,” Montana said, rushing up to greet
her. “I think we should start a little early. The lines are so long. Hey, Abby.” She hugged Liz, then the girl and introduced herself to Peggy. “I have water and pens. We're going to take turns holding the books open for you to speed things along.”

Liz couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the book boxes. “Don't you think you got a little ambitious with the ordering?”

Montana laughed. “Trust me, Liz. I know what I'm doing.”

“I've never sold that many copies in a single signing before. Not even close.”

“Then we're going to break a record, aren't we?” She patted Liz's arm, then turned to Abby. “Want to take the first shift with holding open the books? I'll show you how.”

“Okay,” Abby agreed cheerfully.

They walked toward the booth. The people in line began to clap and call out to her. Liz eyed the crowd and felt a little better. There had to be at least sixty people waiting. If they each bought a book, maybe she wouldn't embarrass herself with poor sales. But someone had to have a serious talk with Montana. Optimism was great, but one had to be practical, too.

* * *

“I
OWE YOU AN APOLOGY
,” L
IZ
said, nearly five hours later as she approached the end of the signing. Her right arm ached, her fingers had cramped two hundred books ago and she was exhausted.

Montana laughed. “Never doubt the power of positive thinking.”

“Or great advertising.”

They'd gone through box after box of books and the crowd had never seemed to get smaller. Liz hadn't had the hour break in the schedule, instead she'd signed straight through, talking to fans, posing for pictures and answering questions about various story lines.

“Has it occurred to you that people love your books?” Montana asked.

“Not this much. I need to ask for more money.”

Montana laughed, then turned to the next person in line.

Liz sipped water, then threw herself into author mode, focusing on the reader. Each one mattered. She wanted to know what they thought of her stories, what moved them the most. They were the reason she wrote.

A half hour later, the line had dwindled. She could actually see the end of it, which was great because she was close to running out of books. She'd half expected Ethan to bring Tyler by but she hadn't seen either of them. As she glanced up to scan the crowd, she noticed a tall, thin man waiting at the end of the line.

What caught her attention was his intense gaze. He stared at her with a focused expression that made her uncomfortable. After a few seconds, she looked away.

She shook off her uneasiness and smiled at the woman next in line. The signing continued. It was well after six when Montana murmured, “Here's the last one.”

“Hello, Liz.”

She looked up and saw the thin man who had creeped her out earlier. He had medium brown hair and watery blue eyes. His skin was pale and there was something about his expression that made her uncomfortable.

“Hi,” she greeted, forcing herself to sound cheerful. “I hope you weren't standing in line too long.”

“Not at all. I wanted to see you. To talk to you. I would have waited forever.”

Talk about icky, she thought, grateful she wasn't alone with the guy.

“Thank you,” she said. “So, can I sign a book for you?”

“I already have all your books.” He eased closer. “I thought we could end the day together.” His voice lingered on the last word, as if making a point. “Would you like that?”

Liz glanced around for Montana but her friend had been pulled aside by one of the volunteers. No one else seemed to be paying attention to what was happening.

Which was fine, she told herself. Every writer had a few crazy fans. The important thing was not to overreact to the situation.

“I appreciate the offer, but I have plans,” she answered smoothly. “Are you sure you don't want me to sign a book?”

Something flashed in his eyes. Anger. No, that wasn't right. It went beyond anger.

“How about a picture?” he asked.

“Sure.”

She rose, then hesitated. Normally she walked around the booth to stand next to the fan, but this time that didn't feel right.

“You're going to take one of me by myself,” she said, more command than question.

“Sure.”

But instead of pulling out a camera, he grabbed her arm. The action was so unexpected, she didn't even react. She simply stared at his hand closing over her skin.

“We're going to be together,” he told her. “Forever.”

In the nanosecond it took the words to sink in, her brain finally reacted.

“Get the hell away from me,” she screamed as loud as she could and wrenched free of his grip.

He grabbed for her again, lunging toward her. She picked up one of her last hardcovers and struck him.

“Get away!” she yelled again, hitting his shoulder, his hands, his head. “Stop it.”

He plowed into her and knocked her down. “Shut up,” he hissed, slamming her head onto the grass. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

Suddenly there were people everywhere. Dark shapes flew at her, then the air was thick and she couldn't breathe. The man let go of her. Coughing and gagging, she sat up, shifting so she was on her hands and knees, desperately trying to suck in air. Her throat burned, as did her eyes.

A familiar voice told her to try to relax. Ethan.

She turned to him, his outline blurry through her tears. “W-what?” she asked in a croak.

“Pepper spray,” he said, lightly touching her back. “Give it a second.”

“Pepper spray?”

“You were a casualty of your own rescue.”

He pointed and she turned to look at the scene behind her. Over a dozen old ladies were beating the man with their purses and dousing him with pepper spray. Several police officers hovered nearby, as if they couldn't get close enough to help the guy. They didn't look like they were trying very hard.

“What kind of sicko pervert are you?” one woman demanded. “Liz Sutton is one of us. You try to hurt her, you answer to all of us. You got that?”

“Seniors to the rescue,” Ethan told her.

Liz straightened and started to laugh. Laughing made her cough, then she couldn't stop either. Not until Ethan pulled her close and held her.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I will be.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I
T WAS CLOSE TO TEN BEFORE
life calmed down. Liz had been taken to the hospital to be checked out. Less for the pepper spray than for the swelling around her jaw and the bump on her head. When she'd been pronounced healthy and ready to go home, Ethan had brought her to his place rather than hers.

“My mom is with the kids,” he explained. “They're worried but fine. Why don't you call home and talk to them?”

She'd done as he'd suggested, reassuring all three of them that she was fine. Then Ethan had sent her to shower followed by a long bath. The former to wash away any residual spray, the latter to help her relax.

As she stretched out in the tub, bubbles to her chin, she found herself unable to shake off the feeling of being watched. A sensation that would take time to erase, she told herself. A few minutes later, Ethan knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

He opened the door a few inches. “If I bring wine
and promise to behave like a perfect gentleman, may I come in?”

Even if he didn't promise, she thought but didn't say. “Sure.”

He stepped into the steamy room, an open bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands. He poured one for each of them, then settled on the tile surround by the tub.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, looking just above her head, as if not wanting to look directly at her.

“Okay. A little weird.”

“Your eyes still burning?”

“No. They're fine. The toxin wears off in about an hour.” She managed a smile. “That was the damnedest rescue I've ever seen.”

“Don't mess with our seniors.”

“Apparently not.” She glanced at him. “Did you hear from the sheriff?”

He nodded. “The guy is Bradley Flowers, age thirty-six. He has an assortment of arrest warrants, three convictions for some fairly nasty crimes. Just his being here is a violation of his parole. The attempted kidnapping won't help his case, either. He's in jail, waiting extradition back to Colorado. The D.A. is still figuring out the best way to charge him. He'll probably be tried here, serve out his sentence there, then come back to finish up with prison time for kidnapping.”

“How much time does he have left in Colorado?”

“Fifty years.”

“Oh.”

The thought of an eighty-six-year-old stalker was a little less frightening.

He stroked her cheek, finally staring into her eyes. “Try not to think about it. You'll have plenty of time to deal with it later.”

She nodded. “I've never had anyone come after me like that. Some of my fans are intense, but they're not scary. A lot of them are cops.”

“So I should make sure I stay in line.”

She smiled. “Probably.” She held up her free hand. “At least I'm not shaking anymore.”

“It's okay if you are. You've been through a lot.”

She sipped her wine. If she wasn't careful, she could find herself reliving the moment. Not exactly the best way to spend an evening. The doctor at the hospital had given her a short-term prescription to help her sleep. Normally she wasn't big on prescription drugs, but this time she might make an exception.

“Everything happened so fast,” she murmured. “I wasn't prepared for him to attack me.”

“Why would you be?”

“I guess I wouldn't be, but it was weird and so quick. He creeped me out. I guess it's good I paid attention to that.” She thought about the flying handbags and zealous hits of pepper spray. “It must have been surreal to see the old ladies go on the attack.”

“Not something I'm going to forget.” He shrugged.

She noticed something intense in his expression. “What?”

“I wanted to kill him.”

The words were spoken evenly, calmly, but with a certainty that told her Ethan wasn't kidding.

Before she could react, he continued.

“Tyler nearly went crazy trying to get to you.” There was pride in his voice now. “He wanted to take the guy down.”

She felt a little warmer on the inside, knowing the men in her life wanted to protect her. That there were…

Wait a minute. Men in her life?

“Maybe it's not so bad here,” Ethan said.

“Maybe not,” she admitted, turning her attention back to the stalker and away from Ethan.

She wasn't sure what would have happened if her crazed stalker had struck in a big town. While the police would have still dragged him away, she wasn't sure she would have been so well protected by other people who just happened to be there.