Guardian Angel (13 page)

Even in the dark, she saw his nostrils flare and his eyes light like a roaring blaze. The fire swept her into its center, making her aware of only him.

He took her mouth and shoved her jeans down her weak legs. She clung to him while he made short work of his own jeans and briefs. His hands tested the heat of her skin and the dewy moistness between her thighs. He stroked her until a husky whimper escaped her throat.

Pulling away for a moment, he protected them, then lifted her. “I could take you to bed, but I swear I don't think I can make it that far.”

He pushed her against the wall. She instinctively swung her legs around his hips, and he plunged into her.

Hushed whispers accompanied the slide of slick skin against slick skin. It took only a few thrusts before the coil inside Talia exploded, and she swept Trace with her into a swirling vortex of sensation.

They were gasping for air when they came back down. His mouth puffed breaths against her neck, then she thought she heard a weak chuckle.

“Are the walls still standing?” he asked.

“Don't ask me. I'll not seeing straight yet.”

The next chuckle sounded a little stronger. He shifted.

“If you set me down, I'll fall,” she warned. “My legs are like jelly.”

“Don't worry,” he assured her, and shuffled to the living room. They fell to the sofa, legs entwined, arms still wrapped around each other.

Trace groaned and covered his face with his hand. “Lord, woman, what you do to me.”

Suddenly remembering the last time she'd been in the cottage, Talia began to laugh.

He pulled his hand from his face and looked at her quizzically. “What?”

“I'm just remembering something you said the last time I was here.” Another laugh escaped. “I told you I thought I'd be safer on my feet.”

He smiled and lifted her onto his chest. “And I told you that someone had neglected your education.” He twisted a strand of her hair. “I think I'm the one who got an education tonight. Two days without you and I'm not quite sane anymore.” His face turned serious. “Did I hurt you?”

His concern touched her deep inside. It was warm and comforting to her heart and just as important, she found, as the blazing desire between them. “No,” she said, and spotted teeth marks on his shoulder. She smoothed her finger over them. “But I'm worried. Trace. Was I too rough with you?”

She gazed at him with such apprehension, he had to laugh. He proceeded, with tenderness and patience, to reassure her.

Much later, Talia lay in his arms, hovering at the edge of sleep. The sound of a car door slamming penetrated their lazy intimacy. She tensed.

“What's wrong?” Trace asked, waking up.

“I thought I heard—”

There was a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” she whispered, then remembered her state of undress. “Where are my clothes?”

“Just a minute,” Trace called. “Wait here,” he said in a softer voice to her, “and I'll get your clothes.”

After gathering the strewn clothing in the foyer and returning to her, he put his jeans and shirt on in record time. “Who is it?” she asked again.

“Philip.”

“Philip!” She fumbled with buttons that didn't want to match up with their holes. “Where should I go?”

“Nowhere,” Trace said, and put his hands on either side of her face. “You're staying right here. We've done nothing to be ashamed of.”

“But I'm a mess,” she argued. “Look at my hair.” The last person she wanted to see was Philip. She always felt more vulnerable after she'd made love with Trace, and tonight was no exception.

He kissed her. “You look beautiful. We've taken care of your brother's objections to our relationship tonight. After Kevin, Philip will seem like a piece of cake.”

Talia couldn't disagree more, but when Trace looked at her like that, she wouldn't refuse him anything. “Well, at least let me rinse off my face. I'll be back in a minute.”

She turned to leave.

“Talia.”

She looked back at him.

“Trace,” Philip called from outside.

“Just one more minute, Philip,” Trace answered, keeping his gaze fixed on Talia. “You know I love you, don't you?”

Her heart stopped, then beat out an unsteady rhythm. She stood still as a statue.

His grin held a touch of self-deprecation. “My timing's rotten, but I wanted you to know. I gotta let Philip in.” He moved closer and gave her a hard, quick kiss. “We'll talk later.”

We'll talk later,
she repeated silently as she headed for the bathroom. That was only if she could ever speak again. It wasn't until she'd splashed her face with cold water that she realized what else Trace had said to her. A warm glow suffused her from her head to her toes.

In the mirror, she saw hair wild from Trace's fingers and a chin made pink by the rub of his five o'clock shadow. She also saw the special light in her eyes that he had put there. And the silly smile. He was responsible for that too. But deeper, in a place no one could see, she found herself hoping for forever, for the first time in her life.

Moments later she tentatively made her way to the foyer.

“I drove over to your new house,” Philip was saying. “It looks real nice. Your housekeeper told me you'd gone to Gus's Bar.” He laughed. “I didn't believe her, but stopped by there anyway. They said you'd already left. I came in the back way to the house and spotted your 'Vette, so I stopped by.”

Talia stepped into view then, and Philip stared at her. Trace reached for her and pulled her under his arm.

“You remember Talia, don't you?” Trace asked.

Philip's gaze took in her tousled appearance and the light seemed to dawn. “Yeah, I remember Talia,” he said without enthusiasm. He shifted his fine leather shoes and crunched something beneath his foot. Leaning down, he picked up the small object. After studying it, he handed it to Talia.

“I believe this belongs to you.” He gazed meaningfully at the gap on her white cotton shirt. “Looks like you've been busy,” he went on, “but then, the McKenzies move fast. Hope I didn't interrupt anything.”

Talia squeezed the button in her hand, mortified that Philip should be privy to the intimacies between her and Trace. It was obvious they'd been in a rush. She didn't mind that. What she minded was Philip's tone of voice and the way he looked at her as if she belonged on the bottom of his shoe.

Trace felt her stiffen and moved to correct Philip's impression. “Actually, I'm the one who's been rushing Talia. She wouldn't have anything to do with me in the beginning.”

Philip looked at Trace as if Trace had lost his mind. “Hey, well, everyone needs a fling now and then—”

This time Trace stiffened. “This isn't a fling, Philip. I want Talia to marry me.”

Talia stared at him.

Philip fought to compose himself. “But she's not…” He groped for the words.

Trace didn't even want to hear it. He especially didn't want Talia to hear it. He'd worked too hard to make her see how right they were for each other to have Philip mess it up now. He was beginning to think he'd made a mistake confronting Philip in front of her.

“I know exactly what you mean,” he said, intentionally misinterpreting Philip. “She's not artificial. Talia doesn't love me for the Barringer name. She loves me for the man I am.” Trace knew he was taking liberties, because she had never said she loved him. Not out loud anyway.

“She's perfect for me,” he added, and squeezed her shoulder. He noticed Talia was having trouble keeping her jaw from going slack.

“Perfect?” Philip echoed.

“Yes, perfect,” Trace said in his firmest CEO voice. “It's been great seeing you.” He released Talia and went to the door. “You'll have to drop by the house tomorrow. There's something we need to discuss.”

“Hell, no,” Philip said in a rare display of temper. “I can't let you do something crazy like this, Trace. You've got to remember your position, your background. Talia's not—”

“Be careful, Philip,” Trace interrupted in a low voice.

Talia's stomach churned at the tension between the two brothers. She should have insisted on leaving. Now all she could do was wait it out. Philip's insinuations had cast a tawdry light on something she'd believed was beautiful.

“I've always been careful,” Philip said, then changed his tone. “Listen, Talia's attractive. She's probably great. But you don't want your whole life messed up just because of what she gives you between the sheets.”

In one swift move, Trace slammed Philip against the wall. “I told you to be careful.”

But the loss of Trace's control made Philip shed his. “She's a cheap slut who wants your money, you fool.”

Trace drew back his fist, ready to strike.

Talia cried out. “Stop it. For God's sake, stop it. You're brothers.”

Her voice penetrated the haze of Trace's fury. He took a deep breath and eased his hands away from Philip.

Philip eyed him warily and smoothed the wrinkles from his jacket. He cleared his throat. “I'll just try to forget this happened.”

Talia saw the harshness in Trace's eyes. She felt a surge of foreboding and instinctively tried to prevent further damage. “That's probably a good idea,” she said softly. “I'd like to go home, Trace.”

“In a minute,” he said, and her hopes fled.

“You know, Philip,” he went on, “I've never noticed this snobbishness before. Either I've been blind, or you've hidden it well.” He rubbed his face, and Talia could see the struggle going on inside him. “It raises other questions. And I want answers.

“Did you frame Kevin McKenzie?”

“No!” Philip's voice was loud, but Talia noticed he wouldn't look at Trace. “Is that what your little Talia told you?” he asked nastily.

Trace ignored that. “If you're lying to me,” he said coldly, “Barringer Corporation will rescind its pledge for contributions to your political campaign.”

Philip's Adam's apple bobbed. “I'm not lying. Dad will back me up,” he added, and stomped out.

Talia could barely contain her disgust. There was about as much chance that Philip Barringer would tell the truth as there was that she and Trace would get married. A sense of the inevitable filled her, and her newborn hope withered and died.

Because she insisted, Trace took her home. He wanted to talk. She didn't. The atmosphere was fraught with an entirely different kind of tension than during the previous ride.

“He's sticking to his original story,” Trace said.

“Do you believe him?”

He was silent for a moment, jamming the shift into third. Talia wondered if he was always this rough on his transmission.

“No,” he finally said with a pain that came from his soul. “It's hard to accept that Philip,
my brother,
would do something like this, but I know he did. I'll never trust him again.” He hesitated, then whispered, “It feels almost like he died.”

With that statement, Talia realized what she'd been avoiding for weeks. The tie between Philip and Trace was just as strong as the tie between her and Kevin. The bond went back to childhood, strengthened by years and tears and laughter together.

The cord between siblings could be severed only through a deep, painful cut. The kind of cut that left scars and forever changed lives, perhaps destroying them.

She shook her head. She couldn't let that happen to Trace. It would make him bitter and suspicious. And even if Philip's deceit didn't stand between them, there was always, always, always the fact that Trace had more money in his back pocket than she had in her savings account.

She realized the rest of Trace's wealthy friends would echo Philip's sentiments—that she was after Trace's money. Although she considered herself a strong person, she didn't think she could happily spend the rest of her life battling those kind of innuendoes.

The lump in her throat swelled as tears threatened. She jerked back her composure, ignoring the pain. Her heart actually hurt.

“This doesn't change anything between us, Talia. We still belong together.” His voice was solid, reassuring.

She took a deep breath. They were only a mile from her house. Quicker would be better. Trace had deep feelings for her, but he'd get over her. Another sharp pain hit, but she tossed it off.

“We don't belong together, Trace. It's been fun, but seeing Philip tonight took the kick out of it for me.”

He turned to her in shock, then looked back at the road. “You're crazy.”

“Maybe so,” she said, stiffening her spine. “But don't call me anymore, Trace. Kevin's home now, and it would just make him uncomfortable. He's too important to me.”

“I'm important to you,” he said quietly. “Robby's important to you too.”

The thought of Robby was one more lash from a whip. She'd grown to love the little boy. She closed her eyes and steeled herself. She was almost home.

“Not important enough,” she said, throwing the knife and flinching inwardly as if she'd stabbed herself.

Trace stopped in front of her house and turned to her, his face set in hard lines. The confusion in his beautiful eyes nearly undid her.

“Dammit, Talia, you love me,” he said harshly.

She almost admitted it. The feeling was so strong, it almost found its way to her lips. But her throat was getting tight again and her eyes were stinging. Crying wouldn't help her case.

“No,” she said. “I don't.”

Talia held her breath until she reached her bedroom, then let it out, waiting for the tears. They never came.

A full ten minutes passed and an eerie tranquillity settled over her, like the calm before the storm. She'd expected pain without equal. Instead she just felt numb.

Yet she couldn't sit still. Rising from her bed, she began to pace. With odd detachment, she remembered the expression on Trace's face. First shock and then pain had tightened his mouth, and she had watched as every good feeling for her drained from him. She'd watched his eyes go flat and cold, and she shivered at the memory.

It had been important to watch, though, to seal the memory in her psyche. In the coming days when she felt weak and needy, she'd remember watching Trace's love die right in front of her. That way she wouldn't give in to foolish hopes and dreams.

The restlessness turned to fidgeting. She laced and unlaced her fingers. When she realized what she was doing, she cursed. She wouldn't be able to sleep, and if she kept this up, she'd wake Kevin and David.

Suddenly the room felt too small for her disquiet. The whole house felt too small. She put on a pair of tennis shoes and quietly left the house.

Although she didn't fear for her safety, one o'clock in the morning wasn't the best time for a jog. She ran anyway and thought of life before Trace. Her life had revolved around the shop and Kevin and a few friends. It would be that way again, she told herself.

A light rain began to fall. Still she ran, because she was still thinking of Trace and how he'd made her feel.

One foot after another pounded the black pavement. The monotonous pace soothed her restlessness, but it left her mind free to wander.

An ache started. At first she thought it was a stitch. When she pressed her pained side, however, it didn't wane. An image of Trace gently teasing her with words and caresses formed. The pain intensified.

She tried to think of something else, but her mind would not yield. It threw at her the memory of Robby cuddled against her, needing her. Was that a tear or a raindrop on her cheek?

The mental picture shifted to Trace again, in the jewelry shop, so eager to please.

The pain finally hit and Talia gasped at the force of it.

Images came faster and faster. Robby, his face covered with lime sherbet. Trace, eyes filled with laughter. Her pace slackened.

She could hear his voice. Her body jerked in response.

His scent was in her blood.
But you sent him away,
her heart accused.

She stopped and swayed, wondering if she'd made the biggest mistake of her life.

Pain struck her again and again, like a beating that would never end. Unable to withstand the blows, she doubled over and gave an anguished cry. With every cold word she'd flung to drive him away, she'd twisted the knife in her own heart.

A sob escaped, then another. And there on the dark street, she sat and wept her wounded heart out.

 

The next day Talia pinned a smile on her face and wished David a safe return to Massachusetts. But a whole tube of cover-up wouldn't conceal from her dear brother the ravages of her emotional upheaval.

Kevin hounded her relentlessly. He even followed her to the shop, asking prying questions while she did inventory. All this after she had been afraid he would be too hurt to speak to her.

“I don't want to talk about it,” she said for the seventeenth time, and continued counting boxes of paper plates.

“That's too damn bad!” Kevin yelled. “You look like the bride of Frankenstein.”

“Where did you get that silver tongue, brother mine?” she asked sweetly.

“Probably from the same family that gave you red eyes and a pink nose.”

She jerked her head up and glared at him.

He sighed. “Red eyes and pink noses are fine for bunnies. But I don't like seeing them on my sister.”

Her heart, what was left of it, softened. She touched his arm. “I'll be okay.”

“Tell me,” he said earnestly. “What did he do to you?”

She thought for a moment of all the things Trace had done to her that had made her smile. Her eyes welled with moisture. Oh, Lord, not again, she thought. Between the night before and that morning she'd cried enough to fill a bathtub. She blinked rapidly, but a tear still escaped.

“I really, really don't want to talk about this,” she whispered.

Kevin's face grew troubled. He caught her tear with a finger. “I really think we need to, especially if you've stopped seeing Trace because of me.”

She sucked in a quick breath. She'd been waiting for this. “You were very angry last night.”

He nodded, dropping his hand. “Mostly because I'd been left in the dark. I thought we were closer than that.”

She closed her eyes against the guilt that ran through her. Setting her clipboard on a box, she tried to make him understand. “I'm sorry, Kevin, but it all seemed so unreal.” She shook her head in wonder. “Who would have ever thought Trace Barringer and I would get together?”

“Not me,” he muttered.

“See. It was pure insanity.” And pure happiness. She shook that thought off. “I decided to wait until it all blew over to tell you. I mean, it couldn't last.” She was reminding herself as much as him. “And I knew you'd rather see me date anyone besides Trace Barringer.”

Kevin shifted. “Well, not anyone.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked away. A long moment passed. “He's not like Philip.”

Talia recognized that as a huge concession. “You're right. He's not like Philip. As a matter of fact, Trace can be just as ruthlessly blunt as you can.”

“Oh, yeah?” Kevin raised his eyebrows, then gave a knowing half smile. “I can see that after talking with him last night. He didn't waste any words about his feelings. He flat-out said he loved you and wanted you.”

Talia's heart squeezed into her throat. “That was before Phil—” She broke off abruptly, damning herself for opening her big mouth.

Kevin's eyes narrowed. “Before Philip what? Come on, Talia, what did he do? If he hurt you, I swear I'll beat the—”

“—you'll have to get in line,” she interjected. “Philip showed up at Trace's last night. He said some…” She took a deep breath. “…some insulting things. Everything got out of hand and Trace shoved him against the wall. He was ready to hit him.”

Kevin relaxed marginally. “My opinion of Trace is improving all the time.”

She snatched up the clipboard. “That's nice, but I won't be seeing him anymore.”

“Why not?”

Her anger and frustration suddenly peaked. She banged the clipboard down again and swung around to face him. “Because it won't work! Because Trace is rich and I'm not. Because Trace is well educated and I'm not. Because Trace will always be caviar and champagne and I'll always be subs and beer.”

When she finished, she felt raw and out of breath. “It just won't work,” she repeated in a broken voice.

Kevin stretched out his arms to enfold her, but she shook her head. “If you hug me, I'll cry again, and I'm tired of crying.”

He stepped closer and managed to ruffle her hair and keep his distance at the same time. “It's your decision, big sister, but I've got a gut feeling Trace Barringer won't be easy to shake.”

After last night, Talia thought, shaking Trace should be very easy. “I'll worry about that if it happens.” She gathered her injured feelings together and mentally stuffed them deep inside her. “Right now I'm going to finish my inventory.”

Kevin watched her for a few moments while she counted napkins. “You ever hear of Cinderella?”

“Yes,” she said in a crisp voice. “It's a fairy tale.”

After that she buried herself in work. Throughout the day she caught Kevin's worried glances when he didn't think she was looking. He seemed to understand her need to stay busy and didn't question her. What he did do, in her opinion, was much worse.

He was nice to her.

He fixed dinner every night, helped her at the shop and gave her lots of hugs. Under his affection and care, she found it increasingly difficult not to burst into tears. Especially when he fielded Trace's telephone calls.

She couldn't believe Trace was actually calling her, even after what she'd said, what she'd done. And she had done the right thing. Hadn't she? She knew she'd acted impulsively out of hurt and fear. Was that wise?

She felt cruel for denying her love to Trace. He'd been so generous about his feelings with her. Was that fair?

Questions and doubts constantly assailed her. Had she been wrong? When she thought about it, she realized that there were always obstacles to love. Problems always crept up. Still, people managed to work them out.

That thought burrowed its way deep into her heart and mind as the day for the LAM auction drew closer.

 

Trace was immersed in his own problems. On the business front, he'd had to institute a hiring freeze his foremen weren't happy about. After allowing them to whine for a few minutes, he'd offered the alternatives of decreasing pay or layoffs. The whining had abruptly ceased.

His personal life was shot to hell. Robby had the chicken pox. He was fussy and uncomfortable. He asked for candy, Reptiles and Talia. Trace provided the first two and sighed over the last.
Join the crowd, kid,
he told his son silently.
I want her too.

When Talia had rejected him, he'd been stunned into silence. She'd brought him love and tenderness. When he was with her, he could be himself. His name and position meant nothing to her. Being with her, basking in her attention and love, was like finding a home he'd only dreamed of. Now she was gone.

Anger and hurt rumbled inside him, robbing him of sleep and sense. He'd repeatedly called her, only to end up speaking to her stonewalling brother. Unwilling to accept her rejection, he took action. He put more pressure on Philip and discussed Kevin McKenzie with his father. Harlan closed up like a clam, but Trace thought he saw uncertainty in his father's eyes. Or perhaps it was guilt.

Friday morning the day before the LAM auction, Philip strolled into his office bright and early. “How's Robby?” he asked, sliding into a leather chair.

“Itchy.” Looking at his brother, Trace remembered when Talia had sat in that chair. He adjusted his glasses. His eyes were dry and sensitive from lack of sleep, and wearing his contact lenses was like putting a cactus in his eye.

“I have this idea about the charity auction tomorrow,” Philip announced after skimming the pleasantries.

Trace was filled with a lethal determination to hear the truth from Philip. He'd give his brother three minutes. “I didn't know you were coming.”

“I wouldn't miss it. The press will be there in droves.” He paused for a second. “I want to announce my intention to run for state senate.”

Trace didn't respond. The tension in the room raised a notch.

“I want an endorsement from Barringer Corporation.”

“I haven't gotten all my answers yet.”

Philip's face tightened. “You've talked to Dad.”

Trace nodded. “I talked. He didn't. I've got a call in to Valerie, but her housekeeper says she's in France. The only thing I've learned is something about Kevin's lawyer. Funny thing. He left town right after Kevin was sent to the detention center. You wouldn't know anything about it would you?”

Philip shook his head.

Trace leaned forward across his desk. “It's time to quit running from the issue, Philip. It's time for the truth.”

Philip stood and whirled away, not looking at him.

“She's pushing you to do this, isn't she? It's Talia McKenzie.” He shook his head. “It's a sad day when a Barringer turns against his brother.”

Trace waved his hand. “Save the Barringer propaganda for Dad. I'm not turning against you. I just want the truth.”

“I've told you—”

“Nothing,” Trace cut in, his patience gone. “And that's what you're going to get from Barringer Corporation.”

Philip set his jaw. He crossed the office to the window and stood there, looking out. He was silent for so long, Trace was certain he'd never tell him. Then Philip spoke.

“Kevin McKenzie and Valerie were sneaking around together. It was right after Dad's first heart attack. You were in law school.” His voice was toneless. “I warned Kevin to stop seeing Valerie. He didn't, so I handled it.”

“You handled it!” Trace's fury hit him like a tidal wave. He jumped up and stalked over to Philip. “You handled it by framing an innocent boy, by having him institutionalized in a place that robbed him of his youth. In a place where he got stabbed.” Trace jerked his brother around to face him. “What gave you the right to play God with Kevin McKenzie's life?”

Philip gazed blankly at him.

“I'm a Barringer. We look out for each other.”

Trace was floored by such twisted reasoning. “Not that way! Never that way. Do you realize you could be disbarred for this?”

Philip shook his head. “Who'll ever know? Besides, I was only twenty.”

The bitter taste of disgust filled Trace's mouth. “You make me sick. I don't know you anymore. Maybe I never did. You've lost your ethics and your integrity. You don't feel an ounce of regret for nearly ruining someone's life.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Where's the guy who decided when he was twelve that he wanted to be a lawyer, so he could fight for justice and fairness for everyone? Where's the guy who marched on Washington to protest for something he believed in? Where, for God's sake,” Trace asked, flinging out a hand to encompass the room, “is my brother Philip?”

Seconds ticked by, the silence stretching between them swollen with disappointment and anger. Philip looked shaken. “I don't know.” He cleared his throat and looked away from Trace. “Maybe I'd better find out.”