any restraining orders lately, Ryan?”
That hit the mark. His eyes narrowed, but his voice was smooth as he said, “Again, that manners thing, Tara.”
“Why are you here?”
“Why do you think?”
“To harass me?” Tara suggested, her eyebrows going up.
Ryan regarded her for a long moment. “Now why,” he finally asked in a much too quiet voice, “would I want to harass you? What possible reason could I have?”
He moved another step closer, so that he was only inches away—so close that Tara could feel the warmth from his body, smell his expensive aftershave. And suddenly it was all she could do to hold her ground. Memories, sharp and painful, flooded her.
She hadn’t expected the reaction and it threw her, but she fought to pull herself back together. Ryan had no idea how traumatic their physical encounter had been to her. He was so egotistical that he’d actually thought that she’d want to do it again.
Through sheer willpower, Tara forced herself to look Ryan in the eye. And then she noted with some satisfaction that she had left a pretty good bump on his once classic nose.
“Oh, yeah. That’s right,” Ryan said sarcastically. “I remember now. Your lies. My job.”
“I had nothing to do with you losing your job,” she said bluntly. And it was true. She’d had nothing to do with his being fired from his cushy job with the accounting firm in Elko, where he’d hoped to become a partner. Jack had. But Ryan didn’t know that and she wasn’t going to tell him.
“You’re a liar, Tara.”
Tara simply shifted her weight as she waited to see what was coming next. She didn’t have to wait long.
“Actually I’m here because of the crass attempts you’ve been making to embarrass my father in public.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, I think you remember raving in the bank about my father trying to steal your house.”
She didn’t remember using the word steal, but in Night Sky, embellishment was the rule rather than the exception.
“Ryan, surely you have better things to do than chase rumors.”
“Tara,” he murmured, “if you keep doing things like that—if you embarrass my father or falsely accuse him, especially at this reunion—you’ll be very sorry.”
Tara studied Ryan as if he were a nasty insect. “I can’t wait to see what you try to do to me that you haven’t already done.”
“I haven’t taken your house.”
“And you won’t,” Tara responded with a grimly confident smile.
“I will if you don’t come up with a hell of a lot of cash, and it won’t be stealing. I’ll take it just to torch the place, if nothing else.”
“Will you be using Daddy’s money?” Tara asked. “Or Stacia’s?” She smirked. “Congratulations, by the way. Helluva catch.”
Ryan acknowledged her touché with a slight sneer, which turned into a rather nasty smile as he raised his hand to her face.
“Touch me even once and you will be a sorry man.”
His perfect lips curved even as his hand stopped in midair.
“You know Tara, you really…challenge a man.”
It was both a threat and a reference to their past.
“I’m sure Stacia would love to know I still challenge you,” Tara replied with mock sweetness. “Now, kindly get out of my house and off my property.”
She spoke the words matter-of-factly, hoping against hope that Ryan wasn’t aware his presence unnerved her, that her heart was beating harder than it should be.
“And while you’re at it, tell your father to mind his own business. He isn’t getting my house and he isn’t going to stop me from opening my business.”
Ryan merely shook his head and moved even closer, his smile fading. It was the first indication Tara had that he might honestly be a threat. Her body tensed, instinctively preparing for defense, when the side porch door scraped open and they heard booted footsteps in the kitchen.
Ryan’s head swung around and, from his startled expression, Tara knew he’d been aware her brother wasn’t here. He hadn’t expected anyone—had probably thought Matt’s old truck was her own.
And that frightened her.
“Do you need something, Connors?” Tara called as the footsteps continued down the hall toward the parlor. Matt appeared in the doorway a second later, frowning when he saw that Tara was not alone.
Ryan was already several feet away from her. He smiled as Matt entered the room, wearing his charm like an exoskeleton. Tara blinked at the change. Incredible. Who’d believe her side of things when confronted with…this? Ryan extended a hand.
“Hi. Ryan Somers.”
Matt dusted his own hand on his jeans and accepted the handshake with a nod, his expression unreadable. “Matt Connors.”
Ryan waited, but when no further information came, he glanced at Tara with a this-isn’t-over look in his eye. “I won’t keep you any longer,” he said congenially. “Stacia will be in touch.”
“Yeah,” Tara replied softly. “I can’t wait.”
“Nice to meet you,” Ryan said as he walked past Matt.
Matt followed Ryan with his eyes until the man was through the front door.
“What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
He gave her an impatient look. “I’m not stupid, Tara. Something happened.”
Tara shrugged. She picked up her wallpaper brush and idly ran her thumb over the bristles. “Did you need something?”
“No. I just came in to remeasure a frame.” His mouth tightened as he studied her carefully composed expression.
Tara dropped her gaze. She wished he’d go back to work so she could have her breakdown alone. It was the first time she’d been alone with Ryan since…she couldn’t think about it now.
“Is there anyone in this town you don’t have some kind of a problem with?” Matt muttered as he turned to leave.
“No.” She’d snapped the word. Tara drew in a sharp breath and made an effort to bring her voice back to a more even tone, “Now, would you do me a favor and let me get back to work?”
To her relief, he gave her one last look and then walked out of the room and down the hall, the sound of his footsteps fading as he passed through
