Back Where She Belongs(43)

She felt so right in his arms; she didn’t want it to ever be wrong.

* * *

A HALF HOUR LATER, Dylan balled up the last cupcake wrapper and tossed it onto the nightstand before settling back around Tara. Against all odds, he had her in his bed. He tucked her more firmly against his chest, one hand on her breast, breathing in her smell, feeling every inch of her body against every inch of his. He hadn’t been wrong about how good they’d been together. Now he felt fully alive, fully awake for the first time in years.

Now what?

He’d been so clear before that being with her would only arouse impossible hopes. Their relationship was a dead-end. A dead-end wrapped in pain.

But they loved each other. That had been important. And making love had been healing. Could they end it with that? Stop now? Let that be enough?

Who was he kidding? He’d never get enough of her. He pushed away the thought. For now, he had her in his arms. He would enjoy that for all it was worth. He’d deal with tomorrow tomorrow.

He woke to Duster licking his face, the smell of Tara in his bed and a note: Gone to see Faye. Thank you for last night. I’ll call from Wharton. Tara.

Thank you for last night? Like he’d done her a favor? Damn.

At least he didn’t have to wonder whether they’d be together again tonight. Clearly that was that.

His cell phone rang. It was her.

“Faye’s back in her room, Dylan. She’s stable again. It’s such a relief. You have no idea how much better I feel.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, his anger fading in the face of her delight.

“Me, too. I can breathe again. And think. I’m on my way to Wharton to set up that field trip to Ryland. Let your guys know, okay?”

“Okay...”

“Is something wrong? Was my note too terse? I didn’t mean it to be.”

“No. It was fine.” He sighed. He couldn’t be angry at her. She didn’t know how to handle this any better than he did. They’d figure it out together.

“So, can we meet for lunch and talk?” she asked.

He thought through his day and realized it wasn’t possible. “I’m sorry. I have a meeting.” He had to convince Troy Waller not to run for mayor, to wait for Dylan to hire him. The man seemed to doubt Dylan’s commitment to his plan.

“Oh. Then...supper?”

This was the day he usually stayed late to go over production figures before he met with Victor and his father in the morning, but he didn’t want to disappoint Tara again. “Sure. Supper at my house.” He’d throw together spaghetti. He owed them both that much. And after supper? Would she stay the night? He’d see if she brought a suitcase.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN



TARA BLEW OUT A BREATH. It was 6:00 p.m. She needed to get over to Dylan’s for the dinner he’d offered to make her. Her main accomplishment today had been to convince Jeb Harris to take a crew to Ryland Engineering the next morning for a field trip.

She’d coordinated with Dylan, who’d sounded mildly hopeful, though it was hard to tell after that awkward phone call in the morning. She hadn’t been able to figure out what to say in her note about their night together, so she’d been breezy and Dylan had sounded hesitant.

They’d had reasons to be together last night, but now? Did they dare continue? The very fact she was so freaked out told her they should back off. Maybe you never got over the pain of the past. Her mother certainly wasn’t willing to, and maybe Tara was kidding herself that it was possible for her and Dylan.

Where could a relationship between them go, anyway? She’d leave and he’d stay. Long-distance romances were hopeless. She never wanted to feel the hurt of their first breakup again, so why prolong the end and risk more hurt?

As she headed down the hall, she noticed Joseph’s office light was on. He’d come in at noon, after spending the night at the hospital with Faye.

She tapped on the door, then peeked in.

Joseph was slumped in his chair, tie open, a pint bottle of Wild Turkey on his desk beside a few paper cones from the water cooler. He held one, she saw. “Still here?” he asked her, head wobbling, clearly drunk. “Aren’t you the dedicated consultant. Cheers.” He lifted the cone, sloshing whiskey on his desk, then drank it, making a face.

“Whiskey neat is no fun,” he said. “It looks so manly in the movies when men drown their sorrows. Maybe if I bought the good stuff like Abbott, but that’s...not...me. Guard the pennies and the dollars take care of themselves.” He balled up the cone and tossed it toward the trash can, missing by a mile.

“Did something happen, Joseph?” she asked.

“It’s about to,” he said, picking up an iPhone near his hand. “This is Faye’s phone. I’ve been carrying it around since they gave it to me at the hospital, scared to look at it. But last night she almost died, soooo I charged it up. I hadda see.”

Tara sank into a chair. “Why are you afraid to look at her phone?” Her neck hairs began to prickle.

“Because as long as I didn’t look, I could pretend she still loved me. The proof she doesn’t is right here.” He shook the phone.

“What kind of proof?” A chill raised goose bumps.

“Messages, texts, the guy’s number.”

“What guy?”

“She was having an affair,” he said, getting choked up.

“No way,” Tara said. “Not Faye.” Faye was steady and loyal. She would never do such a thing.

“She hadn’t been herself. Distant. Preoccupied. Hardly talking to me except to argue.”

“What did you argue about?”

“The taxes. I delayed payment. Abbott and Faye were angry about the penalties and the interest. They never listened to me. Never. I told them we should kill the Ryland contract, cut our losses, but no, it’s too damned symbolic. I told them we should outsource, that manufacturing was too expensive. Oh, no, gotta be loyal...town’s counting on us...whatever.” He shook his head.

“I disappointed her,” he said grimly. “I let her down. That’s it. That’s why. She wanted kids. But I had...problems.”

“Like what?” she asked gently. This might tell her more about the accident. She held her breath, her heart pounding.

“Number one...slow sperm... Number two...recessive gene for a neurological disorder. That’s what did it. The straw that broke my back. She talked to a gen...et...ics counselor. Then she stopped talking to me.” He was slurring, spacing out syllables, running words together. He tried to pour himself another drink, but couldn’t get the cones pulled apart.

“So she found a guy with better genes and better sperm.” He waved the phone. “It’s all here.”

“What makes you say that? Is there a message?”

“Two new numbers. So far, I called one. It’s a divorce attorney.” His face crumpled. “She didn’t even try. She gave up on me just...like...that.” He snapped a finger.

That made no sense to Tara, not with the kind of person Faye was. “And the other number?”

“Has to be him. I got drunk before I called him. Figured I could give him hell that way.”

So he was only guessing. At least that.

“I think she met him at Vito’s that night. She told Abbott, I think. Maybe Abbott didn’t want her to do it—divorce me, I mean—cuz she sent him a text.”

“Nothing changes. Let it go,” Tara said. “I saw it on Dad’s phone.”

“Why would she cut me off like that?” He looked at her, his eyes full of passion. “I’d do anything for her. Anything. She’s...my...life.”

“What happened that night? After you quarreled with Faye?”

His eyes were red embers. “She said she was meeting Abbott at Vito’s. Abbott. Right. I’m not an idiot. She saw Abbott every day. Besides, we weren’t even eating pasta. She bought low-carb ketchup, for heaven’s sake.”

“Were you angry that night?” she asked, afraid he’d done something terrible after all. “Did you do something, Joseph? Something you regret?” Had he run them off the road in a fit of fury, jealousy and fear? Please, no.

“Of course I did something I regret. Wouldn’t you?” He took two harsh breaths. “I bought a Bundt cake and a gallon of ice cream and ate myself sick, then fell asleep watching Animal Planet. Bill Fallon woke me up when he called about the accident.”

Joseph hadn’t caused the crash. Thank God. Abruptly a thought came to her. “Wait. Was the divorce attorney Randall Scott?”

“Did she tell you, too? Abbott and you?”

“No. My father met with the guy. He had the card in his wallet.”

“Abbott set it up? He hated me that much?”