Baddest Bad Boys(41)

“Does she know you’re here? With me?”

“No. Should she?” He drank some coffee, grinned. “You planning to seduce me after all these years?”

“No. I’m planning to do what I’ve done too many times in the past. Take advantage of your friendship.”

“Damn!” His smile held.

“You had your chance.”

“Did not. You were sixteen, I was seventeen. You only hung around me to get to my buddy, Jake.”

She smiled, but it wouldn’t hold. “Funny. I don’t even remember Jake’s last name, but I’ve never forgotten yours.” Tommi had used Hugh to get to Jake, and even knowing she’d come a long way from being that vain, selfish teenager didn’t help. She still regretted the hurt she’d caused him. She raised her eyes. “You’re a better friend than I deserve, Hugh Fleming. Veronica is a lucky woman.” She stopped, rubbed the bowl of her spoon idly across her folded napkin. Unable to find a starting point. Uncertain how much to confide.

“What’s the deal, Tommi? Are you in some kind of trouble?” Hugh studied her, his easy banter gone, his expression serious.

“I need a place to stay.” She decided to keep her mouth shut and not drag him any deeper into her mess than she had to. “And I don’t want you to ask why.”

“Come home with me.”

She knew her eyes widened. “You, me, and Veronica. Are you mad?”

“Let me guess. This has something to do with that guy you’re seeing.” His eyes narrowed. “Did he hurt you?”

Tommi, taken back by his insight, glanced away. She also started to shrug into her coat. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have called you.”

He reached across the table, clasped her wrist. “I can’t help if you won’t level with me.” He released his grip. “I could have told you McNeil was no good from the beginning.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Would you have listened?”

She took a breath. “Probably not.”

“So spill. What’s going on?”

“I can’t ‘spill.’ Not yet, anyway.” She stopped. “Not until I sort things out myself.”

“Not just man trouble then?”

“I wish it were. I’m an expert in that arena.” She tapped the rim of her coffee mug. “This is more than that, and because I don’t know who all is involved, telling you or anyone else about it at this stage would be…irresponsible.” Maybe dangerous. “What I need is to get out of Seattle. And I need to go tonight.”

He looked at her for a long time, finally nodded. “Okay. I’ll stop asking questions.” He rubbed his chin, thought for a minute. “You can go to Mac’s place. He’s there now. I’ll call him, tell him you’re coming.”

She hadn’t expected this. “Where exactly is there?”

“His fishing camp on the west coast of Vancouver Island. Three hours to the border, a ferry ride, maybe another three or four hours of driving, and you’re there. Damn wilderness, but Mac loves it. You could fly, but at this time of year the weather might get in the way. Better to drive.”

“What’s Mac going to think about this?” she asked. Mac was Hugh’s brother, maybe five years younger than herself, but he’d never looked at her without a sneer of distaste. No matter how much she’d tried to win him over, that sneer stuck. Mac Fleming, unlike his older brother, had disliked her on sight.

The last time she’d seen him he’d been an acne-plagued teenager, hazel-eyed and thin as a stick. Already six feet tall, he’d looked as if his bones were growing too fast for his skin to keep up. His nose was always stuck in a book, and on the occasions he lifted it long enough to acknowledge her, his expression, behind those awful glasses, bordered on obnoxious—or disdainful. He might have been a kid, but he always looked at Tommi as if she were a pane of glass and the view on the other side wasn’t pretty. He made her seriously uncomfortable, enough to add, “He might not like the intrusion.”

“Don’t worry about Mac,” Hugh said. “He can use the distraction. My guess is he’s up there with a satellite laptop and a hundred business proposals. He’s in communications, cable TV, wireless—God knows what-all. The guy has no idea how to relax. Probably ignore you the whole time you’re there. But he won’t let you down.” He drank the last of his coffee. “I’ll tell him your ETA, and he’ll be waiting. He’s there for at least a couple more weeks.”

If she could tolerate Mac not tolerating her, it would be perfect. Still she hesitated. “Actually, when I called you, I was thinking about your cabin on Whidbey Island, Hugh.”

“That’s where Veronica is—with her mother.” He grimaced. “Making ‘arrangements.’”

“Ah.”

“Don’t ask.”

“Don’t have to.” Any other time she’d have chided him about his poor-captured-male expression, because she knew it was an act, knew marrying Veronica was all he ever wanted.

“Besides, if someone starts looking for you, they’ll make our connection.” He shook his head. “No. Mac’s place is best.”

He was right. Half the women in her office knew about her special friendship with Hugh. It wouldn’t take long for Reid to find out about it—if he hadn’t already. “You’re right. Okay, if it’s okay with Mac, it’s okay with me.” She ignored her lingering reluctance. “But tell him I promise to stay out of his way.” If Mac chose to ignore her, it was fine with her. Better to be ignored than suffer those dark glares of his, his obvious dislike.