The Stranger: The Heroes of Heyday (Harlequin Superromance No. 1266) (16 page)

Of what? She was being ridiculous. Why should he look any different today? Having sex didn't leave a brand on a person's forehead. Even after a night of fabulous sex, people got up in the morning and went about their daily chores, unchanged.

He moved into the store, looking at the mess in front of her.

“What happened here?” He frowned. “That bookcase wasn't on the floor yesterday.”

“I don't know.” She put her hands helplessly in her lap and surveyed the disorder. “That's what I thought, too. But we must be wrong, don't you think? It must have gone down in the tornado. There really isn't any other way—”

He shook his head. “We're not wrong. I checked every inch of this store when I got back from the ER. That bookcase was completely undisturbed.”

An uncomfortable tension had begun to gnaw at the pit of her stomach. She watched as Tyler moved around the bookcase, running his hands over every edge, peering into the shadows of the empty shelves.

Then he squatted down and began sifting carefully through the books.

“What are you thinking?” She knew, of course. But she wanted to be wrong. She wanted so much to be wrong.

He looked up at her. “Someone came in here. It must have been while we were gone, working on other houses. It couldn't have happened while we were here, not even while we were sleeping.” He glanced over the tumbled books. “Whoever did this made a lot of noise.”

It was strange. Five minutes ago she'd been heartbroken about her books, but now that he was here, all she cared about was whether he would say anything more about last night. “While we were sleeping.” The phrase rolled so easily off his tongue, as if it had been just another normal night. As if they hadn't spent the night wrapped in each other's arms, naked and on fire.

“But who?” She picked up another book, a first edition of
The Moonstone,
and rubbed her palm against the wrinkled pages. “And why?”

“I don't know.” His voice was thoughtful. He flipped over a couple of books to get a look at the titles. “Some of these are pretty valuable, right? Is anything missing?”

“I can't tell yet. It's all such a mess. But a couple of the rarest titles are still here. If you were going to steal books, why would you leave the best behind?”

“You wouldn't.” He stared at the books, as if the answer might lie on their pages. “It must be a message, then. Someone just wants you to know he was here.”

“The blackmailer,” she said.

“It has to be. Anything else would be too much of a coincidence. He's done it before, with the flowers, remember?”

Of course she remembered. “But this is different,” she said. “This is so much more—”

“More personal. Absolutely. And that's a bad sign, Mallory. It's a—”

Suddenly, he bent down, as if to get an even closer look. He swiveled and checked the window behind him. “Did that glass break during the storm? Could there have been any water damage over here?”

She shook her head. “No. The only window that broke was the front bay, where the branch hit. I'll have to replace the cushion on the window seat, but other than that—”

She broke off suddenly, a sick feeling oozing through her. “Why do you ask? What do you think you see?”

“I'm not sure.” He bent again, even closer, and this time when he straightened, his face was somber. He looked angry.

“What?” She pressed her hands to her stomach. “Tyler, what is it?”

“I think our blackmailer has left a calling card behind. It would take an expert to be absolutely sure, but my best guess would be that, before he left, he urinated on the books.”

She felt the blood drain out of her face.

“Oh, my God,” she said hoarsely. She touched the edge of the bookcase for balance, because she felt dizzy. “Oh, my God.”

“Mallory, listen to me,” he said in a firm tone that somehow helped to steady her. “I know it's horrible. I know it's hard to think. But you have to. This is someone you know. There's a lot of anger here, and, whatever he might say on the phone, the anger is not directed at Mindy. It's directed at you. Who do you know who could have done this?”

“No one,” she said numbly. She had touched these books. She thought she might be sick. That was what he had wanted, wasn't it? He would foul the books, and then, when she touched them, it would be as if he had fouled her, too. “No one could do such a thing.”

“But someone did, Mallory. Think. Who was it?”

No one,
her mind insisted.
No one.
This was Heyday. Hadn't he seen yesterday that Heyday was a special place, where people cared about each other? There were no monsters here.

Tyler rose to his feet. He motioned that she should do the same, and somehow she managed it. “You have a bathroom, don't you? Where is it? You'll feel better when you've washed your hands.”

Yes, he was right. She needed to wash her hands. She scrubbed them so long, under water so hot, that she thought she might scrape the skin from her fingers. Then she splashed cool water on her face and she sat on the edge of the toilet, trying to pull herself together.

By the time she emerged from the bathroom, Tyler had already packed away about a third of the books in an empty box, which he must have found in the back room.

“These are the only ones affected,” he said. “The rest are fine. I'm going to put these away for now. Do you have a storage area, someplace you don't use much?”

“Put them away?” She shook her head. “
Throw
them away. I don't want them anywhere near me.”

“We can't do that,” he said matter-of-factly. “They can incriminate him, Mallory. These books can prove who did this to you. We'll give them to the police, and—”

“No,” she said. “No police. Not yet. I'll keep the books if I have to, but no police.”

For a minute she thought he might lose his temper, might shout at her for being a stubborn fool.

But shouting wasn't Tyler's style. He set the box of books down and went into the bathroom to wash his own hands. He left the door open.

When he returned, wiping his hands on a paper towel, she saw that the anger in his face had subsided, replaced by something that looked like pity.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I know you'd like to—”

“She's never going to tell him, Mallory,” he broke in. His voice was flat. “Not unless you force her to. In your heart, you know that.”

“I—you don't—”

Without warning, her eyes began to sting and she had to look away. What could she say? It was true.

But how could he have known the exact sentence that had been haunting her for days? At first, all her anxieties had focused on how Freddy would react
when Mindy told him, and how Mindy would handle that reaction, whatever it might be.

But before the tornado, as she had waited for the telephone to ring, she had suddenly understood that it wasn't going to happen. Mindy wasn't ever going to tell Freddy. Not unless she was forced to.

How could Tyler know that? What kind of magic did he use to see so clearly inside her soul?

She faced him again. “You're right,” she said. “I do know that now. But I still have an obligation to see this through in whatever way will cause the least damage.”

“The least damage for Mindy, you mean,” he said. His voice was bitter.

“Yes, for Mindy. I wouldn't expect you to understand this, Tyler, but I love her, and I have to take care of her. My mother isn't able to do it, and I know she is counting on me to protect her the best I can.”

His anger seemed to be building. “What exactly is it you think I can't understand, Mallory? What it means to love people? Or what it means to coddle them until they're so weak they don't know how to take responsibility for their own mistakes?”

She flushed. She hadn't realized how insulting her words had been until he threw them back at her like this. “I'm sorry,” she said again. “That wasn't exactly what I meant. It's just that, for you, it's all about the story. All about the book.”

“Is that so?” His eyes were hard, the blue blazing through narrowed lids. “What about last night, then? Do you think that was all about the book? Do you think that
was just some hands-on research to spice up Chapter Ten?”

She didn't answer. She wasn't sure what to say. Of course she didn't think their night together would show up in the pages of his book. But she also didn't believe anything that had happened between them had changed his mind about writing it.

When she remained silent, he made a low, scoffing sound.

“Oh, that's right,” he said. “You've already decided that every time I touch you, it's part of my master plan to control your mind and your body, so that you'll do my evil bidding.”

She could hardly meet his eyes. She remembered well saying almost exactly that.

He laughed. “Well, that kind of manipulation can go both ways, Mallory. As I remember it, last night
you
were the one making all the advances. Have you ever considered that maybe, from where I stand, it looks as if you offered your lovely body to me as a bribe? Sex for silence. Carnal favors for cooperation. It's been done before. It's even been done to me.”

He might as well have slapped her. Her cheeks burned, but she lifted her chin and met his angry gaze squarely.

“Is that really what you believe?”

He shrugged. “It's as legitimate an interpretation as the one you've adopted. You tell
me.
Is there any reason why I would believe anything else?”

“No,” she said softly. “Apparently we're just hope
lessly stranded on opposite sides of this situation. And the past—” She bit her lower lip, which was threatening to tremble. “The past has taught both of us not to trust. So I'm afraid you're just going to have to do whatever you think is right.”

She glanced at the toppled bookcase. “And I'm going to have to do the same.”

 

A
N HOUR LATER
, when Tyler was long gone and the glaziers were busy installing new squares of glass in the broken bay, Mallory went into her office, shut the door and picked up the phone.

Mindy's number rang only once before she answered. She must have been sitting by the telephone.

“Hi, Mal,” Mindy said, her voice strained. “I'm sorry I haven't called you. I was just about to.”

“That's okay.” Mallory picked up a pen and began turning it over and over, trying to keep herself steady. It wouldn't help if Mindy sensed Mallory's own distress. “But I do need to know what's going on, honey. Have you told Freddy yet?”

The silence lasted only a second or two, but that was long enough. Mallory dropped her forehead to her hand. “You didn't, did you?”

“No. I couldn't. I tried, but I couldn't.” Her voice broke slightly. “You don't understand. You just don't know how much I love him.”

“Yes, I do,” Mallory said as calmly as she could. Logic, not emotion. That's what they needed here. “And that's why you have to tell him. When you love
someone, you can't keep secrets from them. Especially when those secrets could end up hurting them.”

“I'd never hurt him.” Mindy began to cry softly. “You don't understand. You and Dan—that was different. It wasn't ever really…real.”

Mallory let that go. In a way, it was rather perceptive. At nineteen, Mallory had married Dan because she wanted to grow up, get free, stop being such a burden on their mother. She had wanted the security of love, the comfort of love. But she hadn't really
been
in love.

Not until she met Tyler.

“This kind of love…” Mindy sobbed. “I love him so much it hurts.”

Oh, yes. Mallory knew all about that now.

But if they both collapsed into tears, that wouldn't help anyone. Mallory toughened her heart, just a little, and forced herself to wait for the storm of sobbing to pass.

“He has a right to know, Mindy,” she repeated gently when there was silence on the other end. “No matter how hard it is, you have to tell him.”

“You don't understand,” Mindy said on a fresh, anguished sob. “I can't. I'm—”

She struggled to control her voice and failed. Her next two words sounded as if they were made of tears.

“I'm pregnant.”

A
T THREE-THIRTY
that afternoon, Mindy sat on one of the few undamaged picnic benches in Heyday's central park and watched as Freddy chatted with Mayor Dozier by the band shell.

Even now, when things were so complicated, the sight of Freddy still made her feel just a little bit stronger and safer. He was so handsome, so tall and smiling, a stark contrast to the mayor, who was pinch faced and beady eyed. Mindy couldn't remember ever seeing Mayor Dozier smile.

As if he sensed her attention, Freddy glanced over at her and tossed her a sunny smile and a cheerful wink. The casual sweetness nearly brought tears to her eyes. She smiled back and said to herself,
This is how I want to remember him.

But wait…hold on, for heaven's sake.
Remember
him? That was pretty fatalistic, wasn't it? She might not have to tell him anything. She might still be able to make Mallory understand.

But even so, she found herself watching him with a poignant ache in the pit of her stomach. As silly as
it sounded, she felt as if she needed to imprint his image on her mind, just in case she never saw him again.

Oh, she had to stop this morbid stuff. If only Mallory would get here, Mindy could start making her case. Surely, now that there was a baby on the way, Mal wouldn't really want her little sister to risk alienating her fiancé just for the sake of clearing her conscience.

But where
was
Mallory?

Mallory had set up their meeting here at three, and, though she'd forgotten her watch, she was sure it was at least three-thirty. The location was so odd, too. Why here? Why not in the bookstore? Mindy had glimpsed the bookstore on her way in, and, aside from the window, which was only about half repaired, the tornado didn't seem to have messed it up all that much.

Mallory had been strange on the phone yesterday, so adamant that Mindy tell Freddy about the Heyday Eight. Even when Mindy confessed about the baby, Mallory had refused to back down.

“I want you to come to Heyday, Mindy,” she'd said. “Come tomorrow. We need to discuss this face-to-face.”

Mindy had tried to talk her out of it, but Mallory had been surprisingly stubborn. No, she couldn't come to Richmond and have their talk there. No, she didn't care whether Freddy liked the idea of Mindy spending the whole day away from him.

Even when Mindy grew teary and hinted that she
was troubled by morning sickness, Mallory didn't relent. That shocked Mindy more than anything else. In the past few years, Mallory had been extremely gentle, backing down from any demand whenever she thought Mindy was sick or emotionally fragile.

This time, though, she had been unshakable. Convenient or not, pregnant or not, Mindy must come. Freddy would just have to live without her for one day.

To Mindy's relief, when Freddy heard that she was driving to Heyday, he hadn't been annoyed at all.

“I'll come, too,” he'd said eagerly. “That area was hit pretty hard by those tornadoes Friday, and I can probably pull together a small press conference. I'll get dad's press secretary to write something,
Our hearts go out to the people of Heyday, we'll make available every possible resource,
stuff like that.”

So here they were, at the heavily damaged park, where the citizens of Heyday had organized a cleanup party, complete with free hot dogs, snow cones, slices of pizza and beer for anyone who carted away a carload of debris.

Freddy had been ecstatic. It was the perfect venue for the speech he carried in his pocket. He didn't seem at all self-conscious to be the only suited, manicured man among a park full of hardworking guys in dirty jeans.

Mindy stuck her feet out in front of her and stared at her strappy sandals. She should have worn sneakers. And blue jeans would definitely have looked a lot more appropriate than this overpriced yellow sundress.

Not that she had any idea how to operate a chain saw. Not that she would have had a chance of lifting one of those huge circular sections of tree trunk.

But she could have raked, as Claire McClintock was doing over by the playground area, baby Stephanie strapped to her back in a cute carrier. Even little Erica Gordon was dragging branches to the piles by the street.

“Hey there, honey, sorry I'm late. I was helping Slip Stanton clean some debris out of the Black and White, which took a lot of damage yesterday.” Mallory kissed Mindy on the cheek, then instinctively glanced down at her stomach. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.”

Mallory was dressed like all the others, just jeans and a T-shirt. She looked sweaty, and she had bits of leaves and sawdust in her hair. Still, she looked pretty. Mindy liked it that Mallory was finally letting her hair grow out.

“I'm fine,” Mindy said. “Just a little tired. Freddy came with me, did you see? He's going to make a speech from the band shell in a few minutes. He's got a message from his father, some emergency assistance information and stuff like that.”

Mallory looked as if she might comment on that, but she didn't. She just wiped a small chip of wood from her cheek.

“Yes, I saw him. Actually, I'm glad he's here. That way, if you'd like me to be with you while you talk to him, I can do that.”

Mindy felt a streak of panic. Mallory was talking as if this was a done deal. “Mallory,” she said, wishing she could think of the perfect words, “I know you think I should tell him, but now that I've discovered I'm going to have a baby, I—”

“Mindy, no.” Mallory put her hand on Mindy's arm. That sympathetic gesture, combined with the soft, pitying look on her face, scared Mindy to death. Mallory looked like a person at a funeral. Deeply sad, but already accepting the finality of the loss.

“The baby doesn't change anything, honey.”

Mindy had promised herself she wasn't going to cry, but already she felt her eyes stinging. How could Mallory be so insensitive?

“It changes a heck of a lot for me,” she said hotly.

“I know.” Mallory's tone was gentle. “But you need to listen to me first, and then I think you'll understand better. There are—a lot of things I haven't told you. Things I hoped you'd never have to know.”

Mindy's stomach was alive with fluttering nerves. She put her hand over her belt and pressed. “What things?”

“Someone knows, honey.” Mallory took Mindy's free hand and enclosed it between her own. “Someone knows about Dorian Swigert. And they're threatening to tell Freddy.”

Instinctively, Mindy glanced around the sun-dappled park, to see if anyone had heard.
Dorian Swigert
. That was a name she hadn't been willing to speak aloud in nearly three years.

“
Who
knows? How could anyone know? There was only Greta and me. And Greta promised she wouldn't tell. If she'd broken that promise, my name would have appeared in Tyler Balfour's articles three years ago. No one knows, Mallory. There is no one who possibly could.”

But she could hear the racing panic in her voice, in the strung-together denials. And then a terrible thought struck her.

“Oh, God. Is it Dorian himself? Is that what you mean? He knows, of course, but why would he tell? He could be arrested. He doesn't even live around here, and…”

She realized she was making a fool of herself. Mallory had just been sitting there, with that sad face, waiting for her to run out of steam.

“I don't know who it is,” Mallory said when she got a chance to talk. “The man calls from an untraceable number. He uses a machine to disguise his voice.”

As the words sank in, Mindy felt herself sinking, too, as if they weren't words at all, but a physical weight being yoked to her shoulders.

“Oh, my God,” she said softly. “We're being blackmailed.”

Mallory nodded. “For quite a while now. I've been paying this man a thousand dollars every two weeks.”

Mindy didn't answer. The sum was staggering, too much to fully absorb. She didn't make that much in a month, and she didn't think Mallory cleared much more than that, either. Where was she getting it?

Mindy glanced at Freddy, seeking the happiness fix he always gave her, but he had climbed onto the band shell and was looking at the microphone, tapping at it and frowning. He seemed very far away from her suddenly.

“I'm so sorry, honey,” Mallory said. “I have tried to pay this man as long as I could, just to buy you some time. But he's getting—upset. I think he broke into the bookstore yesterday and defaced some of my books. I honestly don't think it's safe to let it go on any longer.”

Mindy nodded mutely. Then, confused, as if nodding might not be the appropriate reaction, she shook her head. Then she just stared at Mallory helplessly. She couldn't seem to get anything to stick in her head except the basic information.

Someone knew about Dorian. And that someone was going to tell Freddy.

And, when he did, the fairy-tale life she had miraculously pieced together out of the ashes of her youth was over.

It was like watching time-lapse photography in a movie. She looked down at her hand, which didn't really seem to belong to her. She felt herself growing heavy and tired. Duller. Older.

Mallory chafed her hands gently, as if she wanted to get the circulation going. Mindy wondered if her fingers were cold. She felt too numb all over to be sure.

“I'm so sorry, sweetheart,” Mallory said again.

Mindy shook her head. “Why are you sorry? You've
done everything you possibly could to save me. The fault is mine. I'm the one who decided to become a hooker. I'm the one who—”

“Honey, hush. This isn't about assigning blame. This is about being honest with the man you love. It's about coming to terms with your past so that you can have the future you deserve. You're ready to do that. It's even more important, now that you're going to be a mother.”

Mindy closed her eyes and touched her stomach again. A
mother.
For the first time she caught a glimpse of how profound this change in her life was going to be. She knew how she'd ended up pregnant. She hadn't exactly wanted it to happen, but she hadn't tried very hard to prevent it. She'd been careless with birth control, encouraged Freddy to be careless.

Sometimes she had daydreamed about having a baby, a warm, living creature, who would love her no matter what. In her imagination, the sweet sleeping body nestled against her heart had felt so comforting.

But now she saw that she had merely been playing with the idea of a baby, just as she had played with the idea of being a prostitute. She had, once again, landed herself in the middle of something she couldn't handle.

But this wasn't a club she could drop out of. She was going to have to
learn
to handle it.

Tears burned at her eyelids, but she refused to give in to them. Crying wouldn't change anything. Only a child thought it would. How could she be a mother if
she was going to keep acting like a child herself? An irresponsible child causing trouble to everyone who loved her?

She looked at Mallory. “You're sure there's no other way.”

Mallory nodded. “I'm sure. It's time to do the right thing. Even if I had a million dollars, even if I could afford to give this guy whatever he asks, I wouldn't do it anymore. You and I are both better than that. We're both braver than that.”

Mindy wondered how much Mallory had already paid to buy the blackmailer's silence. She wondered how she would ever pay her back. If only she hadn't decided to wear this new dress today, she thought. It had cost three hundred dollars. If only she hadn't taken the tags off this morning, she could return it, and that would be one little bit of the debt she could pay off right away.

But then she looked into Mallory's sad, steady face, and she understood how typically immature such thoughts were. This wasn't about one dress. This was about a long-term change. It was about character, about courage and self-denial.

Terrifying words. She had precious little experience with any of them. It frightened her to think she might not, in the end, be up to the challenge.

“You can do it, honey,” Mallory said, as if she'd read her thoughts. “You're strong, stronger than you realize. You'll
find
the courage. For your own sake, and for the sake of the baby.”

“I have no courage at all,” Mindy said quietly. “I've been borrowing it all along from Freddy.” She smiled, hoping it didn't look as weak and watery as it felt. “And, of course, from you, though I don't think I realized how much until this very minute.”

Mallory squeezed her hand. “Well, you'll always have me, Mindy.”

But Mindy noticed that her sister didn't mention Freddy.

Mindy looked over at him one more time. He stood at the microphone, smiling as he began to deliver his speech. The band shell was planted all around with wildflowers, yellow stargrass and blue phlox, which matched exactly his sunshine hair and smiling blue eyes.

Yes, she thought, fighting down the knot in her throat.
This is how I want to remember him.

 

T
YLER FOLDED UP
his newspaper and, laying it on the car seat beside him, stared down the empty tree-lined street irritably. He was getting tired of playing games with Greta Swinburne, now Mrs. Ray Woodley. She'd stood him up Friday, and it looked as if she might be going to do the same today.

Frankly, this wasn't the day to mess around with him. He was in a seriously bad mood. He wanted to be in Heyday, keeping an eye on Mallory and helping clean up the park.

Bryce had asked if Tyler would stand in for him at the cleanup day. Apparently Lara had warned Bryce
that, if he tried to do any more work with power tools while his arm was in a cast, she'd take a chain saw to
him.

Tyler had apologized, explaining that he had an out-of-town meeting, but that he'd try to stop by when he got back if it wasn't too late. Bryce had made some easy quip, assuring him that it didn't matter, but Tyler could tell he was disappointed.