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“I’ll take you both to lunch. I like Liane. She makes me think how sweet you probably were before you grew up to be such a shrew.”
“You are verbally abusive.”
“I can go the other way if you’d let me. Listen to this. My darling,” he crooned audaciously, “your skin is like the finest silk. Inhaling the sweet fragrance of you makes me wild with desire. My heart thunders, my manhood—”
Stormy laughed. “Do you write the old-fashioned romance novels?”
“You made me lose my train of thought.”
“You didn’t have one,” she said, laughter lingering in her voice.
“I did. I was asking you and Liane to lunch.”
“Oh, all right. We accept. But—”
He put a fingertip to her lips. “No buts.” He traced the shape of her mouth, whispering, “My heart thunders.”
The mere touch of his finger on her lips seemed to Stormy more sensuous than even his recent near-nakedness. It took several heartbeats for her to come to her senses.
“Stop that, please,” she said, moving away.
He followed her. “You know I want you.”
Stormy exhaled. “Do you believe I had anything to do with the bank robbery?”
Tyler went silent. “What is this? Some sort of test? If I say I think you were innocent, does that mean I’ll find favor with you? If I say I’m not sure or it doesn’t matter to me—then what?”
“I don’t know. I need somebody to believe me. No one does or did. I was stripped of my life! I want my integrity back. You just want meon my back.”
Jaw rigid, Tyler glared at her. “You’re fascinating, you know that? Somehow, no matter what’s going down, you manage to turn the dial to your regularly scheduled program. What the hell are you so scared of?”
You, she thought. Falling in love. Getting hurt. Staying hurt. Losing Liane. “Pain.”
Tyler’s jaw softened.
He knew about pain, she knew. Thankfully, she hadn’t experienced his kind of pain. Losing Liane—she couldn’t even go there.
His lips shaped the barest hint of a smile. “Your parents sure pegged you right when they named you.” He turned to go. “I’ll pick you and Liane up about noon tomorrow.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t—”
“Noon.”
10
Liane stood at the foot of the bed, hand on hip. “Tyler invited me, too, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Well, then, if you’re wearing makeup, why can’t I?”
Stormy went into mother-mode. “For the tenth time—because you’re too young.”
“You let me wear it before.”
“You were playing dress-up.” Stormy capped the mascara. “It was part of the costume. Now, it’s not proper.”
Liane flounced onto the bed. “Couldn’t I just wear a teensy-weensy bit of lipstick?”
