Where There's Smoke (10 page)

"Don't bet on it."

The waiting patients heard him and regarded her uncertainly.
 
"I'll be with you as soon as I can," she reassured them.
 
Then, confronting Key, she said, "I'll see you in my office."

The moment she closed her office door behind them, she vented her anger.
 
"How dare you speak to me like that in front of an office full of patients!
 
I ought to have you arrested."

"That scene could have been avoided," he said, motioning toward the hallway with his head, "if you'd told me who you were last night."

"You didn't ask for my name, and I didn't learn yours until seconds before you left."

"Well, you know it now."

"Yes, I know it now, and I'm not at all surprised to discover that you're a Tackett.
 
Arrogance is a family trait."

"This isn't about the Tacketts.
 
This is about you.
 
What the hell are you doing in our town?"

"Your town?
 
That's a curious choice of words for someone who spends very little time residing here.
 
Clark told me that you're rarely in Eden Pass.
 
To what do we owe the honor of this visit?"

He came a menacing step closer.
 
"I told you before to cut the bullshit.
 
I didn't come here to play word games with you, Doc, so don't try to divert me from the point."

"Which is?"

"What the hell you're doing here!"
 
he shouted.

Suddenly the door swung open and Nancy poked her head around.

"Dr.
 
Mallory?
 
Want me to .
 
. . do something?"

He didn't move a muscle, didn't indicate in any way that he had even heard her or noticed the interruption.

Subconsciously Lara had been preparing herself for this clash, so she wasn't that surprised at his angry appearance.
 
Since it seemed inevitable that they have a showdown, she decided just to get it over with.

She glanced at the nurse.
 
"No, thank you, Nancy.
 
Try to keep the patients pacified until I can get to them."
 
Then, looking up into Key's enraged face, she added, "I'll try to keep Mr. Tackett's unreasonable temper under control."

Nancy obviously had misgivings about Lara's decision, but she left them alone.
 
Lara gestured toward a chair.
 
"Please sit down, Mr. Tackett.

You're ashen."

"I'm fine."

"Hardly.
 
You're swaying."

"I said I'm fine," he repeated testily, raising his voice again.

"All right, have it your way.
 
But I don't think either of us wants repeated what we say to each other.
 
Will you kindly keep your voice lowered?"

Leaning on his crutches, he bent forward until his face was within inches of hers.
 
"You don't want what we say repeated because you're afraid that the few people who don't already know will find out that your husband caught you butt naked in the sack with my brother."

She had heard the accusation many times before, and there seemed to be no antidote for its vicious sting.
 
Time hadn't diminished its effect.

Turning her back to him, she moved to the window, which offered a view of the gravel parking lot.
 
One of the patients who'd been waiting in the reception area was getting into her car.
 
She couldn't have looked more sheepish if she were leaving an adult bookstore with a brown paper bag full of dirty magazines.
 
Her retreating car raised a cloud of dust.

Watching her had given Lara time to form a response.
 
"I'm trying very hard to put the incident with your brother behind me and get on with my life."

She turned to face him again and felt much more comfortable with space between them, although, even from a distance, his presence was potent.

He still hadn't shaved and he looked more disreputable than he had the night before.
 
Most disquieting was the raw sexuality he emanated.
 
She sensed it.
 
Keenly.
 
Doing so seemed to give credence to his low opinion of her, and that bothered her tremendously.

Lowering her gaze, she said, "Don't I deserve a second chance, Mr.

Tackett?
 
It happened a long time ago."

"I know how long it's been.
 
Five years.
 
Everybody in the nation knows exactly when it happened, because the morning you were caught in bed with my brother marked the beginning of the end for him.
 
His life was never the same."

"Neither was mine!"

"I guess not," he snorted sarcastically.
 
"Not after you became the nation's most celebrated femme fatale."

"I didn't want to be."

"You should have thought of that before you sneaked into Clark's bedroom.
 
Jesus," he said, shaking his head in bafflement.
 
"Didn't you have any better sense than to commit adultery while your husband was sleeping in the room down the hall?"

Learning to conceal her emotions had become a matter of survival.

At the height of the scandal, she had developed a means of stiffly setting the features of her face so they would reveal nothing of what she was thinking or feeling.
 
She resorted to the technique now.
 
To keep her voice from betraying her, she said nothing.

"Some of the details are a little hazy," he said.
 
"Clear them up for me."

"I don't choose to discuss it with you.
 
Besides, I've got patients."

"I'm a patient, remember?"
 
He propped his crutches against the edge of her desk and, using it for support, hopped on his left foot toward her.

"Give me your full treatment."

The innuendo wasn't accidental.
 
His wicked grin reinforced it.

Lara didn't respond, at least not visibly.

"Come on, Doc.
 
Fill in the blanks.
 
Clark had hosted a dinner party the night before, right?"

Lara remained stubbornly silent.

"I've got all day," he warned softly.
 
"Not a damn thing to do but stay off my ankle.
 
I can do that someplace else, or I can do it right here.

Makes no difference to me.

Calling the sheriff and having him physically removed was a possibility, but he'd already told her that Sheriff Baxter was an old family friend.
 
involving him would only create more of an incident than this already was.
 
What was the point of prolonging the situation except to save face?
 
That had been sacrificed years ago.
 
Since, she'd become a pro at swallowing pride.

"Clark had invited a group of people out from Washington to spend an evening in the country," she told him.
 
"Randall and I were among those guests."

"It wasn't the first time you'd been to Clark's cottage in Virginia, was it?"

"No."

"You were familiar with the house."

"Yes."

"In fact, because Clark was a bachelor, you'd served as his official hostess lots of times."

"I had helped him organize several dinner parties."

"And that sort of put you two together."

"Naturally, we had to plan menus "Oh, naturally."

"Clark was a public official.
 
Even casual gatherings involved planning and preparation."

"Have I disputed anything?"

His condescension was as infuriating as his angry accusations.
 
Lara suddenly realized that her hands had clenched into tight fists.
 
She willed them to relax.

"Arranging all these dinner parties," he continued, planning and preparing and such, must have taken up a lot of your time."

"I enjoyed it.
 
It was a welcome break from my duties at the hospital."

"Uh-huh.
 
So while you two-you and Clark had your heads together making all these plans, you became very, uh, close."

"Yes," she answered softly.
 
"Your brother was a charismatic man.

He had a magnetic personality.
 
I don't believe I've ever met anyone who could match his energy, his verve.
 
He appeared to be in motion even when standing still.
 
He got excited about things and had such high ideals, such ambitious goals not only for himself but for the nation.
 
It was no mystery to me why the voters of Texas elected him to Congress."

"Fresh out of law school," he told her, although she already knew that.

"He served only one term in the House of Representatives before deciding to try for the Senate.
 
Beat the incumbent by a landslide."

"Your brother was a man of vision.
 
I could listen to him talk for hours on any subject.
 
His enthusiasm and conviction were contagious."

"Sounds like love."

"I've admitted that we were very close."

"But you were married."

"Actually, Clark and Randall were friends beftre I ever met him.

Randall introduced us."

"Ahh."
 
He held up his index finger.
 
"Enter the husband.
 
The poor cuckold.
 
What a cliche'.
 
Always the last to know that his wife is screwing around.
 
And with his best friend to boot.
 
Didn't ol' Randall become suspicious when you insisted on spending that night in Virginia instead of returning to Washington with the other guests?"

"It was Clark's idea.
 
He and Randall were scheduled to play golf the following day.
 
It would have been ludicrous to drive back to D.C then return early the next morning.
 
Randall saw the logic."

"That must have been real convenient for you, Doc.
 
I mean, to have your husband accommodate you like that.
 
Did you also fuck him that night just to throw him off track?"

She slapped him, hard.
 
The slap startled her as much as it did Key.

In her entire life she'd never struck anyone.
 
She wouldn't have thought she was capable of it.

Learning to control herself had been a critical part of her upbringing.

Giving over to one's emotions had been unthinkable in her parents' house.
 
Crying jags, uproarious laughter, any form of unbridled emotional expression was considered unacceptable behavior.

That ability to detach herself had served her well in Washington.

She didn't know how Key had managed to breach her conditioned restraint, but he had.
 
If the palm of her hand hadn't been smarting so badly, she wouldn't have believed she'd really slapped him.

Faster than her thoughts could register this, he encircled her wrist, drew her against him, and pushed her arm up behind her back.

"Don't ever do that again."
 
The words were precisely enunciated through straight, thin lips that barely moved.
 
His eyes were as direct and brilliant as laser beams.

"You can't talk to me like that."

"Oh yeah?
 
Why not?"

"You haven't got the right to judge me.

"The hell I don't.
 
In some parts of the world they still stone women for being unfaithful to their husbands."