Trinity Harbor 3 - Along Came Trouble (20 page)

“Temporarily, anyway,” Tucker agreed. “Okay, the trip hasn’t been a total waste of time.” His expression brightened. “And there’s Mexican food.”

Liz spotted the fast-food restaurant. “There? You want to have lunch there?”

“Why not? One thing’s for sure, we’re not likely to run into any of your friends in this place, right?”

“I suppose that is a blessing,” she said and turned into the parking lot. “I hope you realize you can forget about the wine here.”

“Go through the drive-through. We can take the food to the house. I’m sure you can find a bottle stashed in that wine cel ar I’ve read about.”

“Boy, Sheriff, you sure do know how to show a girl a good time.” She slanted a look at him. “You’ve read about the wine cel ar?”

He grinned. “Hard to miss. It was on the front page of the feature section of the paper. As for the rest, I pride myself on knowing how to treat a woman right. Just wait til you see the place I’ve picked out for dinner.”

“The prospect boggles my mind,” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Stick with me, Mary Elizabeth. I’l remind you of how real people live.”

“Is that a chal enge?”

“Maybe,” he said. “You up for it?”

“Hey, I used to fol ow you anywhere,” she reminded him. “There’s no reason to stop now.”

Something in her tone, a hint of the daredevil girl he remembered, sent a shiver of warning down his spine. He was playing with fire here. How stupid was that for a man who’d already been burned?

Liz drove into the gated community where she and Larry had bought a brick home on a two-acre lot when he’d first been elected to the legislature.

Even though his official duties took only a few months of the year, they had both wanted to spend their time in Richmond in a place where they could entertain and live comfortably. Liz had also believed that a real home—rather than the hotel accommodations and rental units other delegates often shared—would keep them here most of the time, rather than in Trinity Harbor where memories and Tucker would always be underfoot.

Over time she had come to hate the pretentious house with its lavish decor and that wel -publicized, temperature-control ed wine cel ar. Rather than the simple lines and cherished antiques of Swan Ridge, this house was fil ed with high-profile objets d’art that said more about the decorator Larry had insisted they hire than about their personal tastes. Of course, she also hated it because it was a constant reminder of yet another woman with whom her husband had carried on a less than discreet dal iance.

She stood in the entry and tried to judge Tucker’s reaction to the too-busy wal paper and elaborate, glistening chandelier.

“This is…” His voice trailed off as he looked around, then faced her. “This is so not you.”

Liz chuckled. “Glad you noticed. Larry liked it. He liked the decorator even more, and she was out to impress him. Wait til you see the study. I’m never sure whether to find a gun and shoot the moose head on the wal just to make sure it’s dead or to light up a cigar and pour a brandy. Thank God, Grandfather’s taste was less blatantly macho. His study is a testament to restraint by comparison.”

“I didn’t get a good look in there the other day, but I seem to recal it being pretty dark and dreary,” Tucker said.

“Not compared to this,” Liz warned as she led the way. “I’m only taking you in here because it’s where we’l find the papers we need. I hope you don’t lose your appetite.”

To her amusement, Tucker’s mouth gaped when he saw it.

“You thought I was kidding, didn’t you?” she asked.

“I thought you had to be. My God, what was he thinking?”

“I don’t think he actual y looked at it until it was too late. He was too busy focusing on seducing Ms. Highsmith, of the Hampton Highsmiths.”

“Is that supposed to impress me?”

Liz shrugged. “It impressed Larry.”

Tucker’s expression softened. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I got used to it eventual y.”

“Real y?”

His steady gaze demanded a truthful answer. “Okay, no, I never got used to it,” Liz admitted. “It just ceased to matter.” Because she didn’t want to dwel on how humiliated she had felt for years, she gestured toward the sacks of food Tucker was carrying. “Which one’s mine? I’m starved.”

Thankful y he took her cue, dropped the subject of Larry’s infidelities and doled out the food. “I think we can forgo the wine. You have any sodas around here?”

“I’l get them.”

Liz bolted for the kitchen, relieved to have a few minutes to herself. She poured them each a soft drink, then paused to take a deep breath. Being here again brought back so many memories of lonely nights waiting for her errant husband to come home. Being here with Tucker brought back other memories, far more bittersweet, of nights when they’d shared take-out food, eaten in a rush so they could move on to more pleasurable pursuits. Liz sighed. There would certainly be none of that today.

She returned to the study to find the food spread out on the marble-topped coffee table. She bit back a laugh just thinking about what Ms.

Highsmith would have had to say about that.

She met Tucker’s worried gaze.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said as she handed him his drink and sat down beside him on the oversize dark brown sofa. She’d always hated this piece of furniture, with its images of what Larry and his decorator friend had likely spent their time doing on it, but having Tucker here somehow chased al of that away. She reached eagerly for her food.

As it turned out, the tacos were surprisingly good, the burrito even better. Tucker grinned as she licked the last of the fiery sauce off her fingers and sighed.

“You always did have a cast-iron stomach,” he teased.

“What’s the point of eating Mexican if it’s not spicy?” she asked.

“You can taste the actual food, for one thing,” he pointed out.

“You’re a culinary wimp,” she retorted. “You always were. Until I came along, I doubt you ever ate anything more exotic than crabcakes or fried chicken.”

“And what’s wrong with those? You try tel ing King that there’s any better food on earth than crabcakes or fried chicken. He’s stil appal ed that Bobby dabbles with anything else at the marina restaurant. He says if that food was good enough for his ancestors, it ought to be good enough for us.”

“Until the other night, I had never eaten at the marina,” Liz said, unable to hide her regret. “I’d heard that the food was fabulous, but now I’ve discovered for myself how wel -deserved al the glowing reviews are. King should be proud of your brother. Bobby’s reputation even extends down here to Richmond. I have several friends who are weekend regulars there.”

“I’m surprised you hadn’t tried it before,” Tucker said, then sighed. “No, of course you wouldn’t go there.”

“I didn’t want to risk running into you and making you uncomfortable,” Liz told him. “Larry and I fought about it more than once. He thought I was being ridiculous, especial y after Bobby earned a reputation as the best chef in the Northern Neck. It infuriated him that I wouldn’t agree to take our guests there.”

“You didn’t have to do stay away on my account,” Tucker said.

“It wasn’t entirely compassionate,” Liz told him. “I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what? I would never have caused a scene, and Bobby certainly wouldn’t have.”

She shook her head and met his gaze. “I was afraid you’d be able to see that my marriage was in trouble. I didn’t want you to know that I’d thrown everything we had away for nothing. I don’t think I could have stood that. It was hard enough living with my mistake without having your pity on top of it.”

He regarded her with obvious dismay. “What can I say?”

“That I deserved it?” she suggested.

“I would never say that,” he chided.

“No, you wouldn’t,” she agreed, fil ed with regret over her failure to see what a treasure she’d had and tossed aside. “Because you were a better man than that.”

“Don’t go making me into a saint, Mary Elizabeth. I’ve got a whole passel of flaws.”

“Name one,” she chal enged, only partial y in jest.

“I snore.”

She laughed. “You do not.”

“How would you know? We did precious little sleeping when we were together.”

Suddenly, just like that, her memory was fil ed with provocative images of the two of them together. He’d come in after working the evening shift and slide into bed beside her. No matter how late it was or how soundly she was sleeping, she would automatical y curve into al that heat. She would fit her curves to his solid strength even on those rare occasions when he hadn’t awakened her to make love.

She could stil remember the way his hands had felt on her body, the way he’d set every inch of her on fire, the heat in his eyes as he’d slipped inside her, then pounded away until they’d both come in a blissful agony of shuddering surrender. Just thinking about it now made her skin as sensitive as if his hands were al over her. She felt the heat climbing into her cheeks and careful y avoided his gaze.

“Darlin’, where’d you go just then?” he asked, his voice sounding choked.

She forced herself to look him in the eye. “To another time, another place.”

He gave her a rueful grin. “Yeah, I’ve been there a time or two myself the last few days.”

“I wish—”

He cut her off before she could finish the thought. “We can’t go back, Mary Elizabeth, much as either one of us might want to.”

She sighed heavily. “I know.” It was too soon, and she’d hurt him too deeply.

But maybe in time…

One glance at the unyielding set of his jaw put that idea to rest. He might be giving her a second chance at friendship, but he’d never give her another chance at his heart, not after she’d gone and broken it the first time. Tucker was a good guy, but asking him to put aside what she’d done to him would be asking too much.

But even knowing al that couldn’t stop her from meeting his gaze, letting him see the yearning that she felt. For an instant, a desire as needy as her own darkened his eyes, but then he looked away and the moment was lost, perhaps forever.

13

K
ing didn’t have much time. He’d promised Frances dinner and bingo tonight, and if he blew it this time, he had a feeling he’d be blowing it forever.

She’d evidently lost patience with him, and to be perfectly truthful, he supposed he couldn’t blame her. He’d been behaving like a man who had al the time in the world to move on with his future. Worse, he’d been treating her as if she didn’t deserve any better. Any Southern gentleman worthy of the title knew better than to treat a woman that way.

Wel , he’d fix that tonight, he thought, fingering the smal velvet box in his pocket. First, though, he had to have a family powwow and make sure everybody was on the same page about getting Mary Elizabeth out of Tucker’s life. The first thing he’d heard at Earlene’s this morning was that Tucker had gone chasing off to Richmond to do some investigating and that Mary Elizabeth had left town right on his heels. It was not the kind of monkey business that tended to make a good impression on the people who’d elected Tucker because of his upstanding moral character. Tucker could put any spin he wanted on what he was doing, but folks around here knew exactly what was going on. King had heard about the bets that were being taken, and not al of them could be described as friendly. A few people were going to use the whole blessed scandal to kick his son out of office.

An hour ago he had summoned Daisy and Walker, Bobby and Jenna and Anna-Louise out to Cedar Hil . Anna-Louise might not be family, but he was counting on the pastor to remind them of the difference between right and wrong, in case the others had forgotten.

The first of them should be arriving any second now. King poured himself a tal glass of iced tea, wel aware that his throat was likely to get parched by the time he’d said his piece and got things settled. He supposed he could bring up his intentions about Frances, but he didn’t want anything sidetracking everyone from the business at hand. Besides, he wasn’t sure she was going to say yes, and he didn’t want to face his family if things didn’t go the way he wanted.

Daisy was the first to arrive, skidding to a halt in the driveway and stirring up a cloud of dust. She flew out of the car, looking thoroughly disheveled and just a little bit panicky. When she spotted King in his rocker on the porch, tea in hand, she stopped and pressed a hand to her chest.

“What on earth? I expected to find you lying on the floor,” she said with a hint of asperity in her voice. “You made it sound urgent.”

“It is urgent, dammit. We have to do something about Tucker and Mary Elizabeth.”

“King Spencer, I could wring your neck,” she said. “I have half a mind to get right back in my car and go home. I thought you were dying.”

“It’s only the Spencer reputation that’s in danger of dying,” he retorted. “And that’s no smal thing.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, don’t you think you’re exaggerating just a little bit?”

He studied his daughter intently. “You happy about Mary Elizabeth being back in Tucker’s life?”

“No, of course not. You know exactly how I feel. Any fondness I felt toward her disappeared when she left Tucker.”

“Wel , then, what are we going to do about it?”

“Short of running her out of town, I’m not sure there is anything we
can
do,” Daisy said with obvious regret. She fanned herself with a seed catalogue that was stuck in her purse. “Is there any more of that tea?”

“Right over here,” King said, knowing he had her hooked at last. “Come on up and sit a spel . The others should be here soon.”

“I hope you were more straightforward with them than you were with me,” she scolded him.

“Is there anything wrong with a man inviting his family to come for a visit?” he inquired crankily.

“There is when he implies it might be the last time they see him alive. One of them might be inclined to see that it is.”

“Wel , at least Anna-Louise wil be here to pray over my dead body,” he said unrepentantly.

Daisy shook her head. “Yes, indeed, that is a comfort.”

King saw another car kicking up a plume of dust on the long, winding drive. Given its speed, he assumed it was Walker. Bobby never moved faster than a snail’s pace. The flashing blue light was the real giveaway, though.