The Harder They Fall (10 page)

He was the complete opposite. Even if he decided to risk it for himself and drown himself in her beauty, they were doomed. He could never make someone like her happy for long.

He had never made
anyone
happy.

As he ran down the dark driveway, past the newly mown lawn, he glanced at his car and came to an abrupt stop.

The scrawled words on his windshield—in what looked suspiciously like lipstick—read:

I’m sorry about the little dent on your fender! Think you could scoot over just a bit more when you park? Keep smiling, Trisha.

Beneath that, she’d drawn a happy face.

Disbelieving, Hunter strode to the back of his car and swore colorfully into the predawn morning. His left bumper had been neatly rearranged, dotted with red paint—the very color of Trisha’s ancient Nissan.

He jerked his gaze up and studied the amply wide driveway that ran alongside of his large house. Then he glanced at the equally wide street and the front of the house, where at least three cars could have fitted.
Unbelievable
. A small white, flapping piece of paper had been attached to the fender, catching his eye. With a snort of disgust, he ripped it off, brought it close in the waning dawn and read:

Ran out of lipstick! I’m really, really sorry. Hope you have a nice day, Hunter. (This time I insist on paying the damages!) See ya soon.

A little laugh escaped him. “Unbelievable,” he repeated out loud. He spared a last look of disgust at Trisha’s offending red car, which didn’t appear damaged beyond a few missing flecks of paint. Shaking his head, he shoved the note in his pocket, thankful he’d run, because it looked as though he would definitely need the stress relief today.

Hunter allowed himself one last thought before he focused his energy on his work.

A silent Trisha didn’t necessarily mean a quiet one
. It looked as if he’d do well to remember that in the future.

Hunter would have liked nothing better than to bury himself in his work, of which he had plenty. He’d been doing it for years. But lately, for some reason he couldn’t fathom, his personal life kept interfering.

He’d no sooner set foot in his office when his phone buzzed. His secretary’s voice came over the line, sounding surprised.

“You’re late.”

If he was, it was the first time in his thirty-four years he’d been late for anything. “Seems that way.”

“Is anything wrong?”

He smiled grimly. “Lipstick doesn’t come off windshields. Remember that if you ever get the urge to paint a guy’s window with scarlet lipstick.”

“What?” Heidi exclaimed, obviously startled. They’d worked together for nine years and they’d shared exactly three personal conversations—occurring each time Heidi had gotten pregnant and needed leave. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” he answered wryly, shoving a hand through his short hair and sinking into his chair. “What’s up?”

“You’ve got a visitor down at the main building who’s awaiting clearance. Sheryl Adams?”

His niece. Tuition time already, he thought with a sigh, and okayed her clearance. Ten minutes later Sheryl entered his office, looking every bit the college student in her opaque black tights, thigh-high black leather boots, and a short black wool jumper over a stark white blouse. Hip-length, straight blond hair bounced as she danced into the room. “Hi, Uncle Hunter!”

Standing, he suffered her jubilant hug and kiss, then extracted himself from her arms when Heidi buzzed him again.

“You’ve got another visitor at the main desk,” she said, sounding wildly curious. Hunter knew two personal visitors to the reclusive Dr. Adams in one day would have Heidi the center of attention at lunch.

Not his mother again, he thought, knowing he didn’t have the patience today. Besides, his checkbook couldn’t handle it.

“It’s a Ms. Trisha Malloy.”

Hunter stared at the telephone.
Trisha
. Good Lord, what had she done now that she actually had to seek him out at work? “Send her up,” he said wearily, and managed to give a weak smile to his waiting niece.

He’d written Sheryl’s tuition check, and had just barely managed to catch her as she flung herself at him in gratitude, when his office door opened.

He heard the soft exclamation of apology.

Hands full of buoyant, happy coed, Hunter jerked his head up to see Trisha turning away.

“Trisha?”

She disappeared around the corner.

Dammit. “Trisha!” Hunter plucked Sheryl’s arms from around his neck and strode to his door. “Wait.”

Slowly, from halfway down the carpeted hallway, Trisha turned back. The very short, very full skirt of her fuchsia outfit swung wildly around her trim thighs. “I can see you’re busy,” she said softly, quietly, though her hands fisted at her sides. “I’ll just talk to you another time.”

He’d never seen her so strangely subdued, so ... calm and unassuming. Something was wrong, very wrong, and his heart tripped. “Now is fine, Trisha.”

But Sheryl, curse her very lovely hide, chose that moment to bounce out of his office, throw her long arms around his neck, and kiss him soundly on the cheek. “I’ll never forget this,” she vowed cheerfully with a vibrant giggle. “
Never
.”

Without another word, Trisha turned and left.

Seven

Trisha forced herself to walk sedately through the NASA complex that housed Jet Propulsion Laboratories. She even managed several halfhearted smiles in response to the few appreciative glances she received.

But once she made it back through the main building and to the parking lot, she started running, her breath catching in her throat, her ridiculous pink pumps slapping dangerously against the asphalt.

What was the matter with her?

She’d come simply to make sure Hunter had gotten her note, to apologize in person. She’d wanted to see if he would accept her offer to get estimates for the damage to his fender so she could pay the bill.

That was absolutely all she’d come for.

It had nothing to do with the fact that she ... missed him. Nothing at all.

Goodness, she hated liars. And she was lying to herself now. She’d come to see the man who had begun to fascinate her and she damn well knew it.

Just because said man had a tall, leggy blonde hanging all over him meant nothing.

She had no claim on him, nor did she want one. She’d known him for only a couple of weeks, and even then on a casual basis. Their teeny-weeny kiss meant nothing, nothing at all. Dr. Adams could mess around with a dozen such blondes for all she cared.

Right.

That kiss hadn’t been teeny-weeny. Nope, it’d been the mother of all kisses, at least in her eyes. Nerves had her fumbling with the lock on her car as her breath huffed out from her run. Her hands were shaking so, that she couldn’t fit the key into the lock.

“Trisha.”

Hunter’s voice came from directly behind her and she nearly leaped out of her skin. Her keys went flying out of her hands.

Hunter squatted down at the same time as she, reaching for the fallen keys, which was how she found herself hunkered down beside her car, staring into his dark green, unfathomable eyes.

Solemnly, he handed her the keys, then slowly pulled her up as he rose. The top of her head came to his chin, she noted with disgust. No wonder he never looked twice at her. The lovely blonde in his office had been nearly six feet tall.

“Why did you run off?” he asked, tugging her gently back when she tried to turn away.

She lifted her chin, assuring herself she couldn’t catch her breath from her run,
not
from the way he was looking at her. “You looked pretty busy.”

“Did I?” he asked quietly, an annoying smile playing about his lips.

She inhaled deeply at his obvious amusement. “Are you going to deny you had your hands full?”

He laughed, shook his head, then threw his head back and laughed again. Rarely did he let go like this, and Trisha could only stare. When he smiled like that, his entire face lit up, and he became even more handsome, if that was even possible. “I don’t see what’s so funny,” she said haughtily. Freeing her arm from his grasp, she grabbed her keys and hurriedly unlocked her car.

But Hunter laid a hand on the door, deterring her. His eyes still swam with humor, but he sounded sincere when he said, “You came all the way over here, Trisha. It must have been important. Is everything all right?” Suddenly the amusement faded, replaced by worry. “What’s the matter? Has something else happened?”

He looked mildly terrified, which helped. Served him right to have a bad moment, and knowing that, she regained some badly needed confidence. How dare he assume that she’d done something else to his precious house. Stubborn as he, she crossed her arms and glared at him.

“Trisha, what have you done now?”

“You mean besides crashing into your car? Or destroying two floors?”

“Yes. Exactly like that.”

She laughed shortly. “I can’t believe you think I’ve done something bad.”

“Well, have you?”

She just studied her hot-pink fingernails silently, wanting him to suffer.

“Trisha.” He put his hands on his hips, the elegantly tailored suit he wore stretching appealingly over his shoulders and back. “Tell me the house is still standing.”

She caught it then, the laughter in both his voice and face. The teasing tone went a long way toward soothing her ruffled feathers, but she wasn’t finished. “The good news is that the foundation of the duplex is still intact.”

She had the immense satisfaction of seeing him lose some color, of watching that wide, chiseled jaw drop open, but she couldn’t hold back her laughter.

“Oh, you’re funny.” He smirked at her. “Are you going to tell me why you came here before I have to attend my meeting? Or are you going to make me sweat all day, wondering?”

So the blonde was still waiting for him. “Wouldn’t want to make her wait, now, would we?”

He looked at her blankly, clearly puzzled, for one long moment before he rubbed his chin slowly. If she didn’t know him better, she would have sworn he was biting back a smile.

“You think my meeting is with Sheryl,” he said finally.

“Is that her name?” Trisha shrugged indifferently. “It could matter less to me.” She smoothed down her bright pink jacket, studied her hopelessly scuffed pumps.

“Naturally.” But Hunter just continued to stare at her, looking suspiciously pleased with himself.

It was then she realized he had no intention of telling her a damn thing.
Fine
. “I just wanted to know about your car. I want to get estimates done for you so I can pay for the damage.”

“Ah, yes, the fender.”

“Don’t tell me you’d forgotten,” she said.

“Did you know that red lipstick is nearly impossible to clean off a window?”

“Sorry.” She smiled sweetly, innocently. “But I didn’t know your phone number and you didn’t answer my knock. The estimate, Hunter?”

“It won’t be necessary,” he said evenly, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets.

He’d already gotten them. Well, that was quick. She hoped it didn’t cost as much as she feared. Stupid, stupid, she thought. When would she learn to slow down? Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her checkbook, trying to remember exactly how much she had, and when she’d last reconciled her accounts.

It’d been a while. Her motto—make sure the checkbook balances only if she had money—meant that she rarely had to perform the task. “How much?” she asked, fishing for a pen in her huge, overloaded purse. “I’ll just—”

“My insurance will cover it,” he said quietly, reaching out to put his hand over the top of her purse. “Forget it.”

His touch made her skin leap. It also increased her pulse rate uncomfortably. “I can’t do that,” she whispered.

“Sure you can.” Bending around her, he opened her door, which served to remind her that he was in a hurry, and that he couldn’t wait to get rid of her. “It’s nothing, really,” he said.

“Of course it’s not. Not when you’re late for your important meeting with the bombshell.” Good Lord, where had that come from?

“Oh,
Hunter
!”

At the sound of a voice and the rapid clicking of heels, Trisha looked up to see none other than the just-alluded-to “bombshell” herself. Smiling, Sheryl waved a piece of paper and blew Hunter a kiss from a neighboring car. “Thanks so much for the tuition, Uncle Hunter! Great-Aunt Gloria and Great-Uncle Patrick said you’d come through for me because you
always
come through for them, and they were right. Thank them for me, too, will ya?”

“I’ll see you next quarter.” Hunter waved back, then turned to Trisha with raised eyebrows. “You were saying?”

Oh, dear. She’d done it again. “I was saying I still have one foot left to stick in my mouth. Give me a minute and I’ll be sure to do it right here so you can get some enjoyment out of it.”

She had to give him credit, he didn’t laugh at her. But he wanted to, she could tell. Unable to stand there feeling humiliated a second longer, she again turned away.