Page 33 of Heartbreaker (Buchanan-Renard 1)

  He paced about the little room, planning and fuming. That sleazy little Lonnie boy had messed things up good, and he couldn’t let him get away with it, could he? Because of him, the perfect plan had been ruined, and what was he prepared to do about it?

  The stupid ingrate was forcing him to move up his timetable. What an inconvenience that was, and Lonnie should have to pay, shouldn’t he? Why, yes, indeed he should. Fair was fair, after all, and besides, he’d noticed Laurant didn’t like the young slug. But then who would? Maybe it was time he showed her how much he cared for her. He decided to give her a gift, something special . . . like Lonnie’s spleen or liver, maybe. Certainly not his heart. He wanted to please her, not insult her, and he wouldn’t have her thinking Lonnie was a heartbreaker. No, sirree.

  He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. My oh my, where does the time go? So much to do, so little time left to do it, thanks to Lonnie boy. Oh, he’ll pay all right, with his spleen and his liver and maybe even a kidney or two. But first things first, he cautioned. There was work to be finished.

  Preparation, after all, was everything. The party had to be perfect.

  CHAPTER 30

  She loved sleeping with him, tucked safely in his arms with her legs trapped under one of his thighs. She awakened before he did but was feeling too content to move. Nick looked so peaceful. She didn’t want to disturb his rest, and so she stayed perfectly still while she studied his face with the critical eye of an artist. He had the most wonderful profile. The chiseled line of his jaw, the straight nose, the perfectly sculptured mouth. She wanted to paint him, to capture the strength she saw in his eyes. She wondered if he knew how beautiful he was or if he cared. He was such a practical man. He didn’t have time for such thoughts or vanities.

  She wanted him to wake up and make love to her, but she knew that wouldn’t happen. He’d turned to her again and again during the night, but now it was morning and everything was different. She had asked him for one night, and the cost, she knew, had been dear. She couldn’t and wouldn’t ask for more.

  How was she ever going to go back to the ways things were? She was a strong woman. She could do anything she set her mind to, and she was a master at hiding her feelings. She could pretend that it had been a glorious night of recreational sex, that was all, a simple way to release pent-up frustrations and tensions . . . but oh, God, how was she ever going to pull that off ? She wished she could be more worldly. She had plenty of friends at school in Europe and at work in Chicago who believed it was perfectly all right to take a man they had only just met home with them for the night and then never see him again. Women had needs, after all. What was wrong with a one-night interlude? Everything, Laurant thought. Because the heart had to be involved. She could never have given herself to Nick so completely if she hadn’t already made a commitment and acknowledged that she loved him.

  Memories . . . she would have the memories of their night together, and that would be enough. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted more than memories. She wanted to wake up next to Nick every morning for the rest of her life.

  She hated feeling this vulnerable and wished to God there was a way to harden herself. Throwing the sheet back, she nudged Nick’s thigh away and got out of bed.

  No regrets.

  Both of them were in a hurry to leave the motel. He wanted to get out of the room before he grabbed her, threw her on the bed, and made love to her again. She wanted to leave as quickly as possible before she started crying again . . . like the stupid, small-town girl that she was.

  The silence between them was strained and horribly uncomfortable. She stared out the window while he drove. She wondered what he was thinking but didn’t ask.

  Nick was silently cursing himself for being such a bastard. What kind of man was he to take advantage of his best friend’s sister? A sick, perverted bastard. That’s what he was, all right, and Tommy was never, ever going to understand.

  Regrets? Hell yes, he had regrets, yet he knew that if they had stayed in that motel room another five minutes, he would have made love to her again.

  They stopped at a superstore off the main highway and spent a quick half hour shopping. At a filling station, Laurant changed while Nick got a couple of Diet Cokes out of the machine. When she came out, she was wearing a seven-dollar pink-and-white checked blouse tucked into a fifteen-dollar pair of stonewashed blue jeans, but the inexpensive clothes looked like designer labels on her. The fabric hugged the curves of her luscious body, and he had to look away until he got his heartbeat regulated. Scum, he thought. I’m lower than scum. Then he looked again and noticed that her hair shone with copper highlights in the sun. He remembered how the soft curls felt when she was leaning over him. Realizing what he was doing, he cursed himself again. He had the discipline of a pig.

  She walked to the car, gliding over the pavement with her sexy, long-legged stride. He handed her the can of Coke, frowning as though she’d done something offensive, then got behind the wheel and didn’t say another word to her for a good twenty miles. As much as he tried to keep his mind on the road and other pressing matters, he couldn’t keep himself from glancing over at her every few minutes. She had the sexiest mouth, and when he thought about the things she’d done with it, a tightness settled in his chest.

  He couldn’t block the images. “Hell.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Has Pete called you back yet?”

  “What?”

  He was a grouchy as a hungry bobcat. She calmly repeated the question.

  “No,” he answered curtly. “I told you he was on his way to Houston. His plane won’t land for another hour.”

  “No, you didn’t tell me.”

  He shrugged. “I thought I did.”

  The road curved to the east, the sun blinding. Nick put on his sunglasses and then took a long swallow from the can.

  “Are you always this grumpy in the morning?” she asked.

  “We’ve been living together long enough for you to know the answer to that question. What do you think?”

  “You’re in a mood,” she said. “That’s what I think.”

  “In a mood?” He glanced at her with a quick scowl. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you’re acting like a jerk,” she calmly explained. “What do you think is causing it?”

  Gee, I don’t know, he thought. Maybe it’s due to the fact that I spent most of the night screwing my best friend’s sister.

  He thought it prudent to keep silent. He finished his Coke and dropped the can in the cup holder.

  “Are you still thirsty?” she asked, offering him her drink.

  “You don’t want it?”

  “You can have it.”

  And that was the end of their conversation for the next ten minutes. Laurant waited for him to get past whatever was bothering him, and when she couldn’t stand the silence another minute, she said, “I imagine Noah’s told Tommy by now.”

  “Good God, I hope not. It’s my job to tell your brother. Not Noah’s.”

  “He’s going to know,” she began.

  “I’ll tell him,” he insisted.

  It occurred to her then that they might not be talking about the same thing. “The fire, Nick, I was asking you if you thought Noah had told Tommy about the fire yet,” she explained. “And about Steve Brenner being arrested.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I’m sure he’s told him by now. At least I hope he did before Tommy read about it in the paper.”

  “What were you talking about?”

  “Never mind.”

  “I want to know. Tell me.”

  “Us,” he said, gripping the steering wheel. “I thought you were asking me if Noah told Tommy about us.”

  Her head snapped up. “And you said you should be the one to tell him. You did say that, didn’t you?” She sounded incredulous.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I said.”

  “You’re joking though, aren??

?t you?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You are not going to tell my brother about last night.” She was vehement.

  “I think I should,” he argued, and he suddenly sounded quite calm and reasonable.

  She thought he was out of his mind. “Absolutely not. What happened between us stays between us.”

  “Normally that would be true,” he agreed. “But you’re . . . different. I should tell him.”

  “I’m not different.”

  “Yes, you are, sweetheart. Your brother’s my best friend, and he also just happens to be a priest. Yeah, I’ve got to tell him. It’s the decent thing to do. Besides, he’s gonna figure it out. He’ll know.”

  “He isn’t clairvoyant.”

  “I’ve never been able to pull anything over on him, not since second grade. He’s always known what’s going on inside my head. He’s bailed me out of a lot of trouble. For a while, when we were at Penn State, he was like my conscience. No, I’m not going to lie to him.”

  She could feel a headache coming on. “You don’t have to lie. You don’t have to say anything.”

  “I’m telling you he’s going to know. I’ve got to tell him.”

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “No.”

  “You are not telling him. I know you feel as though you’ve betrayed him, but—”

  He wouldn’t let her finish. “Of course I feel like I’ve betrayed him. He trusted me, damn it.”

  The road was deserted and so he pulled the car over on the shoulder.

  “I know it’s going to be a little awkward for you, but you’ll get past it,” he said.

  She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. “Nick, my brother trusted you to keep me safe. You’ve done that. You don’t need to tell him about last night.”

  Astonishment had given way to anger and embarrassment, and she was so upset tears came to her eyes. She vowed she’d die before she cried in front of him again.

  “I haven’t done anything I’m ashamed of,” she insisted. “And you promised me you wouldn’t have any regrets.”

  “Yeah, well, I lied.”

  She jabbed him in the shoulder. “If you feel so guilty, then go to confession.”

  She was glaring at him now, and all he could think about was how pretty she was when she was angry. He wouldn’t have been surprised if sparks flew out of her eyes.

  “I thought about going to confession,” he admitted. “And then I pictured Tommy’s fist coming through that grille, and I thought, no, that wouldn’t be right. I can’t tell him that way. It should be face-to-face.”

  She put her hand to her brow to try to stop the pounding. “I didn’t mean for you to go to confession to Tommy,” she said. “Go to another priest.”

  “Don’t get into a lather.”

  “You have nothing to feel guilty about,” she cried out. “I seduced you.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “I most certainly did.”

  “All right,” he said. “Then tell me, how’d you do it?”

  “I made you feel sorry for me. I cried.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I see,” he drawled. “So I made love to you out of pity? Is that the way you see it?”

  She seriously contemplated getting out of the car and walking back to town.

  “Let me ask you something,” she said then, trying to make him realize how unreasonable and stubborn he was being. “You have slept with other women, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, I have,” he agreed. “You want the number?”

  “No,” she countered. “I want to know what happened after you had sex with them. Did you feel compelled to tell their mothers?”

  He laughed. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Well then?”

  “Like I said before, honey. You’re different.”

  She folded her arms across her chest and stared straight ahead. “I’m not talking about this any longer.”

  “Laurant, look at me. How about if I promise you something?”

  “Why bother? You don’t keep your promises.”

  “Making me promise I wouldn’t have any regrets was just plain stupid, so I don’t think that should count. I’ll keep this promise,” he assured her. “If he doesn’t ask, I won’t tell. I won’t say anything to your brother for a couple of days. That should give you enough time to calm down.”

  “Not good enough,” she countered. “Since you’re compelled to be a blabbermouth, you have to wait until you’re back in Boston.”

  “I should tell him face-to-face so, if he wants to punch me, he can.”

  “Boston,” she gritted out between clenched teeth.

  He finally relented. They got back on the road and headed for home again.

  “Nick?”

  “Yes?”

  He sounded downright cheerful now. He was the most exasperating man.

  “Any other bombshells you want to drop on me before we get home?”

  “Yeah, come to think of it, there is one more thing I should probably mention.”

  She mentally braced herself. “What is it? No, let me guess. You want to put it in the paper.”

  He laughed. “No.”

  “Then what?” Now she sounded cranky.

  “When I go back to Boston . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re going with me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not letting you out of my sight until I’m convinced we’ve got the right guy under lock and key.”

  “For how long?”

  “As long as it takes. Until I’m satisfied.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “You’re going to,” he countered.

  “I’ll go with you to Boston while the anniversary is going on here, but then I have to come back. I have to find a place to live, open my store, make some decisions about what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. I need some time to sort things out.”

  “I want to talk to you about something else while I’m thinking of it.”

  “Yes?”

  “You aren’t in love with me.”

  She blinked. “I’m not?”

  “No,” he said emphatically. “You just think you are. You’re confused,” he explained. “You’ve been under a hell of a lot of stress, and we’ve been tied together.”

  She knew where he was headed. “I see.”

  “Transference.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “It’s called transference. It’s kind of like a patient falling in love with her doctor. It’s not real,” he stressed.

  “That’s what I’m suffering from?”

  “Not suffering, honey,” he said. “But I do think you’ve confused gratitude with love.”

  She pretended to ponder the possibility for a long minute and then said, “I believe you might be right.”

  She swore that if he looked the least bit relieved, she would do him bodily harm.

  “You do?” He sounded a little stunned.

  “Yes, I do,” she said more forcefully.

  He wanted confirmation. “So you realize you don’t love me.”

  No, she thought. I realize that telling you I love you terrifies you because it means commitment and taking a chance.

  “That’s exactly what I realize,” she told him. “It’s that transference thing all right. I was confused, but I’m not any longer. Thank you for clearing it up for me,”

  He shot her a hasty glance. “That was pretty damn quick, wasn’t it?”

  “When you’re right, you’re right.”

  “That’s it?” He was suddenly furious with her and didn’t care that it showed. Damn it, she had told him she loved him, and after a one-minute argument, she caved. What the hell kind of love was that? “That’s all you have to say?”

  “No, actually there is just one more thing I’d like to mention.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Laurant used Nick’s phone to call Michelle and give her the bad news about the bridesmaid’s dress.

  Michelle answered on the first ring. “Where are you? Are you all right? I heard about the fire, and Bessie Jean told Mother you left with Nick, but no one knew where you went. My God, can you believe Steve Brenner turned out to be such a pervert? Did you know he’d hidden a camera in your house?”

  Laurant patiently answered her questions and then told her about the dress. Michelle took the news surprisingly well. “If only you’d left the dress with Rosemary,” she said, referring to the dressmaker who had fitted the gown for her.

  “You told me to pick it up, remember?”

  “Yes, but when have you ever listened to me?”

  “Michelle, what are we going to do? Should I just bow out?”

  “No way,” Michelle cried. “You can wear something of mine.”

  “You’ve got to be joking. You’re tiny. Nothing of yours would fit me.”

  “Listen, Laurant. I’m stuck with Christopher’s two insipid cousins in my wedding, but I’m not letting either one of them be my maid of honor. Are you or are you not my best friend?”

  “Of course I am,” she said. “But—”

  “Then improvise. I don’t care what you wear. Come naked if you want. No, you better not do that. You’d cause a riot,” she said. “Christopher wouldn’t remember his vows,” she added with a laugh.

  “I’ll find something,” she promised, wondering how in God’s name she was going to have time to shop.

  “You’ll still be here at four?”

  “Give me at least until five.”

  “Was the dress destroyed by the fire? Maybe the dry cleaners could repair it if it wasn’t burned up.”

  “No,” she answered. “It’s gone.”

  “The town’s in an uproar over Brenner,” she said then. “How stupid was he to torch his own house? Did you know he’d brow-beaten poor Mrs. Talbot into selling it to him. He didn’t have any insurance either. Did you know that? The pervert paid cash.”

  “How did you find all that out?” she asked.

  “Mother’s nosy friends. Little Lorna’s called Mother three times in the past hour to give more information.”