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His eyes shifted from hers, and Tally’s stomach dropped. There could only be one reason he’d wanted to see her.
“What about the new payment arrangements on my loan?”
She saw Dennison’s adam’s apple move up, then down. He opened his mouth as if he were going to speak. Instead, he shouldered past her, turned up his collar and went out into the storm. Tally stared after him as his lean figure was lost in a swirling maelstrom of white.
“Mr. Dennison! Wait!” Her voice rose. “Will this affect my loan? You said the new owner will keep everything just as it is—”
“Not quite everything,” a familiar voice said.
And even as her heart pounded, as she swung toward the open bank doors and told herself it couldn’t be true, she knew what she would see.
That voice could belong to only one man.
DANTE SMILED when Taylor turned toward him.
Her face was white with shock.
Excellent. He’d wanted her stunned by the sight of him. Things were going precisely as he’d intended, despite how quickly he’d had to work. He’d put his plan in motion in less than a week, first convincing the old man to sell and then getting the authorities to approve the sale, but he was Dante Russo.
People always deferred to him.
This morning, he’d phoned Dennison and told him he’d be there at three. Told him, as well, to notify Taylor to be at the bank at four.
Promptly at four.
And, of course, not to mention anything about the bank’s new ownership.
Dante’s lips curved in a tight smile. He’d figured Taylor would be on edge to start with. A woman who’d put up her home as equity for a loan of $175,000.00 she couldn’t pay would not be at ease. Add in Dennison’s refusal to explain the reason for the meeting and the warning to be prompt, her nerves would be stretched to the breaking point.
His smile faded. The only thing that would have made this more interesting was if Samuel Gardner was with her, but from the investigator’s comments, he’d gathered that his former mistress’s new lover didn’t stand up to life’s tougher moments.
“Why didn’t Sam Gardner sign for the loan?” he’d asked Dennison.
The old man had looked at him as if he were insane.
“Buying a bank on a seeming whim, suggesting something anyone in town would know is impossible…You have a strange sense of humor, Mr. Russo,” he’d said with a thin-lipped Yankee smile.
Dante stood away from the door.
Dennison was wrong. There was nothing the least bit humorous about this situation. It was payback, pure and simple.
And it was time Taylor knew it.
“Aren’t you going to come inside and face me, cara?” he said, his tone deliberately soft and coaxing. “Perhaps not. Facing me is not your forte, is it?”
He saw her stiffen. She probably wanted to run, but she didn’t. Instead, she raised her chin, squared her shoulders and stepped inside the bank. He had to admire her courage, the way she was girding herself for confrontation.
She had no way of knowing that nothing she could do would be enough. The news he was going to give her was bad, and it delighted him to do it.
“Hello, Dante.”
Her voice trembled. Her face had taken on some color, though it was still pale. Three years. Three years since he’d seen her…
And she was still beautiful.
More beautiful than his memory of her, if that were possible. Was it time that had made her mouth seem even softer, her eyes wider and darker?
Still, time had not been completely kind. It had affected her in other ways.
