Night Moves : Dream Man/After the Night Read online

  Even in the shadows of the car, Faith could see how pale and strained Monica looked as she stared at her. This was one confrontation that would be best postponed; though she intended to stand her ground, there was no need to flaunt her presence in the Rouillards’ faces. Turning away, she got into her car and started the engine. Monica was blocking her so she couldn’t back out, but the space in front of her was empty, so there was no need. She simply drove out through the empty parking slot, leaving Monica still sitting there staring after her.

  When she got home, she found several faxes waiting for her, all from Margot. She put up the groceries before settling down in the office to take care of whatever problems had cropped up. She enjoyed the travel industry; it wasn’t without its share of headaches and crises, but for the most part, by the very nature of the business, the customers were upbeat and excited. The agency’s job was to make sure their vacation tours were properly booked, with reliable accommodations. They gently steered vacationers away from inappropriate tour packages; for instance, a family with small children probably wouldn’t be all that pleased with a cruise on a party ship geared more toward adult pleasures. Her employees knew how to handle things like that; most of the problems that came Faith’s way were of a different nature. There was a payroll to meet, tax forms to complete, an unending parade of paper. Faith had decided that she would still handle the payroll, with the pertinent information faxed to her from the four office locations every Monday morning. She would do the paperwork, prepare the checks, and Express Mail them on Wednesday morning. It was a workable solution, and the convenience of working at home delighted her.

  The biggest inconvenience was still doing her banking in Dallas, both business and personal, but she had decided against transferring her funds to Prescott or even Baton Rouge; the Rouillard influence had long arms. She hadn’t checked to see if the family owned the new bank in town, because it hadn’t really mattered; whether they owned it or not, Gray would have a lot of pull. There were rules and laws in banking, but in this part of the state the Rouillards were a law unto themselves. The balance in her accounts, even copies of her canceled checks, would be easy for Gray to get. She had no doubt that he could also cause trouble for her by delaying credit for checks deposited until the last possible minute, and bouncing her own checks if he could. No, it was best to keep her account in Dallas.

  Gravel crunched in the driveway and she looked out the window to see a sleek, gunmetal gray Jaguar come to a stop. Resigned, she let the curtain fall back into place and pushed her chair away from the desk. She didn’t have to see who got out of the car to know who had come calling, just as she knew this wasn’t the Welcome Wagon.

  Going into the living room, she opened the door as she heard footsteps on the porch. “Hello, Gray. Please come in. I see you’ve given up your ’Vettes.”

  Surprise flickered in his eyes as he stepped over the threshold, immediately overwhelming her with his size. He hadn’t expected her to calmly invite him inside, the rabbit offering the hospitality of its burrow to the wolf. “I’m slower in a lot of things than I used to be,” he drawled.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “Better, too, I suppose,” but she bit the words back. She doubted that Gray Rouillard would be making suggestive remarks to her, of all people, and if she took it as such, he would think it was just what he might have expected from a Devlin. There was no room for normal flirtatious byplay between the two of them.

  The weather was hot this late spring day, and Gray was dressed in a loose, white cotton shirt that was open at the throat, and khaki linen trousers. Curly black chest hair was visible in the open vee of the shirt, and Faith forced herself to look away, conscious of a sudden difficulty in breathing. He brought with him the fresh, earthy scent of clean sweat and the animal muskiness of man. She never had been able to decide what color his scent was, she thought dazedly, inhaling his rich, subtle odor. His physical impact made her senses reel, just as it always had. Nothing had changed. It hadn’t been the unexpectedness of seeing him the last time that had so shaken her; the old reactions were still there, still potent, undimmed by time and maturity. She looked at him with hidden, helpless rage. God, this man had all but ground her into the dirt, and wouldn’t hesitate to do it again; what was wrong with her that she couldn’t see him without feeling that hot, automatic tingle of excitement?

  He stood too close to her, just inside the door, staring down at her with narrowed dark eyes. She moved away to give herself breathing space. He was physically too imposing, ten inches taller and with that lean, hard athlete’s body. She would have to go on tiptoe to kiss even the hollow of his tanned, muscular throat. The aberrant thought shocked her, shook her, and instinctively she guarded her expression. She could never let him know that she was even remotely attracted to him; it would give him a weapon of devastating power to use against her.

  “This is a surprise,” she said lightly, though it wasn’t. “Have a seat. Would you like a cup of coffee, or maybe iced tea?”

  “Skip the pleasantries,” he said, moving toward her, and she heard the cold anger in his smoky voice. “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here,” she replied, arching her brows in mock surprise. She hadn’t expected the confrontation to come quite so soon; he was more efficient than she had expected. She moved away from him again, desperate to keep a safe distance between them. His gaze sharpened, then gleamed with satisfaction, and with a chill she knew he had realized that his closeness made her nervous. She halted, determined not to let him know that he could intimidate her that way, and turned to squarely face him. She lifted her chin, the expression in her green eyes cool and unruffled. It took a lot of effort, but she managed it.

  “You won’t for long. You’ve wasted your time and effort in coming back.”

  With gentle amusement she said, “Even you could have problems throwing me out of my own house.”

  His gaze sharpened as he glanced around the neat, cozy living room. “I bought it,” she enlarged. “It isn’t financed, it’s mine free and clear.”

  He gave a harsh crack of laughter, startling her. “You must have divorced Mr. Hardy and taken him to the cleaners. Did you get everything he had?”

  Faith stiffened. “As a matter of fact, I did. But I didn’t divorce him.”

  “What did you do, snare yourself an old geezer who kicked off after a year or two? Did he have heirs you gypped out of their inheritance?”

  Color fled her cheeks, leaving her as pale as a statue. “No, I snared myself a healthy young man of twenty-three, who died in a car accident before we’d been married a year.”

  His mouth tightened. “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have, but I’ve never noticed that concern for other’s feelings has ever worried a Rouillard.”

  He gave a snort of derision. “A Devlin should be careful about throwing rocks in that particular glass house.”

  “I’ve never harmed anyone,” she said with a bitter little smile. “I just got caught between the lines when the battle started.”

  “All innocence, hmmm? You were pretty young when all that happened, but I have a real good memory, and you were sashaying around in front of me and all those deputies, wearing your little thin nightgown that we could see through. Like mother, like daughter, I’d say.”

  Faith’s eyes widened, full of outrage and horrified embarrassment, and color flooded back into her face. She took two quick steps forward and jabbed him in the chest with her forefinger. “Don’t you dare throw that in my face!” she said, choking with rage. “I was dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night, and tossed into the yard like a piece of trash. Don’t say it,” she warned sharply, when he opened his mouth to retort that trash was exactly what she’d been, and jabbed him in the chest again. “Everything we owned was dumped out, my little brother was hysterical and wouldn’t turn loose of me. What was I supposed to do, take time out to find some of my