Ugly Ducklings Finish First (11 page)

“Grazing land.” Payton shot Wiley a look. That story sounded ominously familiar.

“Who is this fancy-pants?” Wiley demanded. “I need a name.”

“I don’t know about names, I can’t remember mine half the time.”

“What about this contract he had with your husband? Surely he must have signed it?”

“Of course, but it won’t do you any good. Jerome, rest his soul, threw it away a few days before he had his stroke. It wasn’t any good,” she repeated when Wiley remained silent, and her hands fluttered to her chest. “That’s what the man said, and it killed Jerome. It wasn’t any good...”

“I need a name, Mrs. Bimmel. Try and remember—”

“Wiley.” Payton curled her fingers around the woman’s bony wrist to monitor her pulse. “That’s enough.”

“Oh. Right.” But his impatience was palpable as he reached into a pocket and drew out a card. “If you think of anything more, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Can’t imagine I will.” She tucked the card away with a hand that trembled like an aspen leaf. “I hope you can help old Carlos. No one bothered to help Jerome and me.”

“What do you think?” Payton asked as they headed for the car, with Payton having to skip to keep up with his stalking stride. “I’ve never heard of a bank contract like that.”

“Neither have I, which makes me think that either our sweet-tempered Clarissa has a few toys in the attic...”

“She’s mean as hell, not demented.”

“Or she simply may not have all the facts straight. Or,” he added, tossing her the keys before sliding into the passenger side, “someone may have been playing fast and loose with the rules two years ago.”

She started the car with a roar. “That was two years ago. What about now?”

For a long moment he didn’t answer, and when she glanced over at him, his face seemed carved out of stone.

“She didn’t give me much to go on.”

“So does that mean she can’t help Carlos’s case?”

“I didn’t say that.” He smiled, and it was a feral baring of teeth. “Let’s go home.”

Chapter Eleven

Overnight something had happened to the residents of Bitterthorn. People raised a hand in greeting as Payton and Wiley drove by, a bold few even calling out her name as she headed back to where she’d left her car at Wiley’s office. A few of them she knew but most she didn’t, and as they neared Thorne Mansion she tried to sink lower behind the wheel.

“Now I know what it feels like to ride with royalty.” Clearly enjoying himself, Wiley waved back at a young couple on the corner.

“What’s with everybody?” Baffled and embarrassed, she swung the car into the office parking lot and killed the engine. “I think I saw this on an episode of
The Twilight Zone
, where everyone went psycho all at once.”

“They’re not psycho, they just want to be nice to the town’s new doctor.”

She shot him a look designed to kill. “Keep talking like that and I’ll sue.”

“That’s okay, I’m trained to handle that sort of thing. You coming in?”

“What for?”

“I could show you my office.” That irresistible smile of his appeared, beautiful enough to make her toes curl. “The couch in there is great for catching a few winks.”

“I’m not sleepy.” She was, however, in serious trouble if just a smile from him twined her around his little finger. “I’d better get going.”

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

“No.” The refusal was out before he had finished offering the invitation.

“Payton.” When she wouldn’t look at him, he caught her chin and brought her gaze around to his. “How long are you going to fight this?”

“I’m going to fight it as long as I’m afraid of you.” When she heard the words burst out of her, she was as startled by the admission as he looked. But now that the cat was out of the bag, she figured she might as well go all the way with it. “There. I admit it. You, Wiley Sharpe, scare the crap out of me. Satisfied?”

“That’s just about the last word I’d use.” A storm kicked up in his eyes and the fingers on her chin hardened. “I would never hurt you, Payton. I couldn’t, any more than I could tear off my own arm. I will take exquisite care of you.”

“Trust me, Wiley, that’s how crazy mismatches start out. Lots of chemistry and promises, but in the end it’s toxic. Just ask my parents.” When he couldn’t say anything to that, she tried to find a way to lighten the mood. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t want any promises from you. I know this...this chemistry—”

“
Extraordinary
chemistry.”

He had her there. “This extraordinary chemistry is something wonderful, and there’s probably no harm in exploring it.”

“There isn’t.”

“I’m just not rational when you touch me. It’s all-consuming and it drags me down deeper than I can handle. Can you understand how terrifying that is to me?”

“You want me.” His smile was so damned triumphant, part of her wanted to slap it right off his face. “What I feel for you is no different.”

“But while it’s old hat for you—”

“No.” The sudden anger packed into the one word had her backing up out of his grasp. “The idea you have of me as being some brainless playboy is going to stop right now. I won’t bother denying I like women, because you know better.”

She couldn’t stop her scoff if her life depended on it. “You can say that again.”

“What you don’t seem to get is that not every woman makes my mouth go dry the way you do. I don’t wonder how anyone else tastes, or feels or even thinks. I could almost hate you for the way you’ve come back and turned everything upside down. I can’t even hear a funny joke without wanting to share it with you. I swear, you being back in Bitterthorn has made me a frigging lunatic.”

She couldn’t doubt his sincerity when he looked so exasperated. “So, great. We drive each other crazy in the best and worst way there is. What do we do about it?”

“Running away doesn’t help. Ignoring it isn’t making it go away. You’re a big fan of logic, so I think the only logical thing left to do is face it.”

Being boiled in oil would have been an easier choice. “How do we do that?”

“Dinner.” As if he knew her insides were quaking, Wiley brushed a hand over her hair. “Just dinner, Payton. That’s all.”

“Just dinner, huh?” It sounded harmless enough. Now if she could figure out if she was shaking with fear or desire, she’d have it made. “Okay. When you put it like that, I can do
just dinner
.”

“Good.” He pulled her car door open for her. “The rest of my day is going to be pretty hectic, so how about you meet me at my place at six?”

Alarm sprinted through her. “Your place? Are we going to eat there?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

God
,
yes
. “You’ll have to give me the address.”

After writing it on the back of one of his business cards he held it out to her, but as she reached for it his hand caught hers. Her gaze flew back to him, and her breath backed up in her lungs at the smoldering seduction in his eyes.

“If you don’t show up, I’ll come find you.” His voice was a low, velvet rumble of sound that promised a bone-melting retribution. “Remember, I don’t like to be stood up.”

“Six o’clock.” She kept her gaze level with his to prove to both him and herself that she wasn’t afraid. “I’ll be there.”

* * *

By the time Payton guided her car through Bitterthorn’s residential streets she was wishing she had given herself a little wiggle room for escape. Which was absurd. To have the desire to escape meant she was being hunted or worse, already trapped. But she wasn’t either of those things. All she was doing was sharing an evening with an old friend.

Yeah, right. And she was the Easter Bunny.

As she stopped for a red light, she couldn’t stop the compulsive need to check her reflection in the rearview mirror. The panicked glaze in the eyes staring back at her wasn’t exactly inspiring. From the moment she’d agreed to dinner, she’d mentally rampaged through all the outfits she’d brought with her before settling on a pearl-gray dress that swept above her knees, paired with a tailored black bolero jacket. At the time she had thought it struck just the right chord, but now she wasn’t at all sure of the casual image it created. Too late to turn around now, she decided, putting the car in motion. If she didn’t show up on time, Wiley would come after her. As crazy as it sounded, she knew he’d do it.

Somewhere along the line, they’d both gone a little batty.

When she finally rolled to a stop in front of the address Wiley had given her, she stared at the house in disbelief. While she hadn’t formed a concrete picture of what sort of place Wiley lived in, she never would have imagined a whitewashed clapboard farmhouse with a wide, welcoming porch outlined by wood columns painted the same blue as the front door. An aggressive yellow rosebush had taken over a large section of the white picket fence lining the colorful chaos of the flower garden. As she lifted the latch to the gate, which swung open with a cozy squeak, she noted the thriving caged tomato plants by the side of the house.

Since when had Wiley lived in a
Better Homes and Gardens
setting? It was all she could do to keep her jaw from unhinging as she took in the twin terra-cotta planters filled with showy geraniums flanking the top of the porch steps. This was the house of a mature man who had found his niche in life and was comfortable with it.

Did that describe Wiley?

She wouldn’t have thought so a few days ago. But now...

There was a large pile of what looked to be construction debris by the carport, and upon closer inspection she saw they were stacks of window frames with the windowpanes smashed out in every single panel. Random shards still stuck out here and there from the frames, and the waste of it made her sad. The windows could have been salvaged as vintage architectural elements, but as of now they were nothing but trash.

“If you’re trying to decide whether or not to ring the bell, it’s too late.” The sound of Wiley’s amused voice brought her gaze snapping up to the open front door where he stood watching her. “I already know you’re here.”

Payton’s tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth as he descended the porch steps, looking casually elegant in buff-colored pants and a button-down navy-blue shirt with its sleeves rolled up. A blue plaid hand towel was slung over one shoulder and he held a wineglass by its stem, the pale wine it held looking so good she could almost taste it.

The problem was, Wiley looked so good she could almost taste him as well.

“Hey.” He halted just before her, a smile flirting with the corners of his made-for-sin mouth. “Have you taken root there?”

“No.” At least she didn’t think so. She’d have to move to be sure. “I love your garden. I see tomato cages. What else have you planted?”

“I’ve got the last of my spinach and leaf lettuce that needs to get out of there, along with carrots, snap peas and green onion. Want to help me pick the salad later?”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Good.” He caught her cool hand in his, the gesture so companionable she felt some of her tension drain away. “Did you have any trouble finding the place?”

“No, it was easy.”

“That’s the way the rest of the evening is going to be, if you’ll relax.” He lifted the wineglass to her lips. “Drink.”

The trickle of wine flowed like liquid sunshine, and she drank without thought, her eyes locked with his over the rim. Instinctively Payton knew her mouth rested where his had lain, and she knew with that same undeniable certainty that he had done it on purpose. Languorous heat twined around her taut nerves, and though she tried to convince herself it was the wine, she knew that had nothing to do with it.

With that one move, the seduction of her senses had begun.

“Good.” Wiley lowered the empty glass and brought her closer by pressing his free hand against the small of her back. “No more tension for the rest of the evening.”

“I’ll do my best.” With a low sigh, she leaned against him. “That was delicious.”

“Yeah? Let me see.” Slowly, as though fearing any sudden moves might make her bolt, he lowered his mouth to hers. She didn’t bolt. She didn’t want to. As their lips touched, softened, melded, the last traces of tension in her muscles ebbed away like water swirling down a drain.

When he backed away, she swayed toward him. “Thank you for inviting me to dinner.”

“My pleasure.” He kissed her again, a brief touch before he made a production of backing away. “We’d better stop that and go inside before I forget myself and end up burning dinner.”

With the ripples of hunger thrumming along her nerve endings, Payton allowed herself to be led into the house. Her distraction quickly lifted, however, as she took in her surroundings with interest. The rooms in Wiley’s home were light-filled and airy, and the delectable aroma of something rich and savory perfumed the air. The overstuffed furniture was a basic shade of bone and filled with a charming mishmash of throw pillows, from fine floral tapestry to a bold floor pillow sporting the San Antonio Spurs logo on the front.

Pictures of family and friends hung on the walls and crowded on the narrow mantel above the limestone fireplace in the living room. Books, from paperbacks to severe-looking law tomes, were packed onto the bookshelves lining the walls in no discernible order. An entertainment credenza beneath the flat-screen TV held a reckless scattering of trophies he’d earned for his athletic achievements in high school and college. But it was a framed photo in the middle of the grouping that caught her eye.

She lifted it and found herself smiling down at a beaming Wiley in cap and gown, proudly clutching what had to be his law degree.

“I’ll bet you remember every detail of this day.” She traced a tender fingertip over his image before she looked up at him. “I wish I had been there.”

“I wouldn’t have made it if it hadn’t been for you.”

“No way, pal. You’ve always been smarter than you thought. Smarter than anyone I know.” With another smile she replaced the picture, glancing at the woman in the image as she did so. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your mom grin so widely. I heard she moved around the time you went to law school?”

“She’s in Arizona now, to be close to my aunt. She’s doing great.”

“She looks so happy here. So proud.”

“So relieved,” he corrected with a chuckle. “That last year was brutal. I almost didn’t make it. If you hadn’t been so hard on me and making sure I learned good study habits, I don’t think I would have.”

Payton smiled and thought back to what a struggle he’d put up when it came to using his first-rate brain. “Mnemonic devices, finding or creating a study spot that has no outside distractions, use hour-long sprints to achieve small study goals and reward yourself for good behavior.”

“That last one was the trick that got me through.”

She laughed. “I knew you could do it.”

“Miracles do happen.” Crossing to where she stood, he laid his hands on her shoulders and looked at the picture as well. “I thought about you a lot that day. You, and my dad. I missed both of you like crazy.”

She leaned back against him, drinking in his warmth. “I’m sorry I missed it. But I’d like to think your dad was with you every step of the way.”

“I remember when he died. It was so sudden and terrible that for a time I wanted to die too. Then I dropped in on you,” he went on, and she could hear the smile in his voice, “and you were impossible. You got in my face and wouldn’t stop bugging me until I broke down and bawled like a baby.”

“No. You cried like a loving son.”

“You held me for what seemed like forever.” As if she were made of fine china, he turned her and slipped his arms around her waist, his eyes dark with memories. “I was so mad at everything. My parents, the world. You. But you put your arms around me just like this even as I yelled at you to leave me alone. That one action broke through all the walls I was trying so hard to put up, and everything started gushing out.”

She remembered the fury in his eyes and the very real fear of having it eat him alive. “At the time I was worried you hated me for that.”

“I did. But now I look back on that moment and I realize you saved me.” His arms tightened, and she could feel the heated imprint of his embrace through the thin fabric of her dress. “I should have thanked you for that a long time ago.”