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“At six at the hotel,” she called after him.
•••
As Chris was dressing that evening, she noticed her underwear, looking at the initials on all of it and wondering when in the world Ty had had a chance to see it. He’s seen what’s under it, so what’s the difference in seeing the underwear, she wondered.
As she examined the lovely blue velvet gown Red had loaned her, with its tight waist, the skirt fitting snugly around her slim hips, and a little bustle in back, she thought about what she’d heard from Tynan that afternoon. He seemed such an odd contradiction of confidence and insecurity, she mused as she left the room.
At the foot of the hotel stairs waited Asher and another man who stepped forward instantly and introduced himself as Rory Sayers—and Chris felt that she knew all about him at once. He was the type of man her father had paraded before her for the first eighteen years of her life. He was handsome in a sharp sort of way: sharp nose, sharp chin, eyes a snapping blue. And he had more confidence than any six other men, confidence that Chris knew came from having had money all his life.
There was coolness behind her smile as she took his arm and allowed him to lead her into the dining room.
Dinner was a disaster. Rory dominated the meal, talking about everything that had been happening in the country in the last two years—the years that Ty had been in prison. And Tynan looked like a sulky little boy who was being punished by having to eat with the grownups.
For just a moment, Chris closed her eyes and prayed for strength.
“Of course you wouldn’t know about that, would you old man?” Rory said to Tynan who had his head bent over a plate heaped with pork chops. “You were a bit too busy over the last two years to read the papers, weren’t you?”
Before Tynan could reply, Chris said, “I beg to differ with you, Mr. Sayers. Mr. Tynan has read allmyarticles. Perhaps he was selective in his reading.”
“NotMr.Tynan,” Rory said with a smile. “I don’t believe he has another name.”
Chris could take no more. She couldn’t stand the man’s smugness or his catty remarks. She stood. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me as I have a splitting headache. Mr. Tynan, would you please escort me out into the fresh air? I think a walk will help clear my head.”
Rory Sayers rose, presumptuously taking Chris’s arm.“I’lltake you, Miss Mathison.”
With all the haughtiness she could muster, she jerked her arm from his grasp. “Sir, I only met you tonight. I do not entrust my safety to men I do not know. Mr. Tynan, would you mind?”
Rory was aghast. “I’m afraid,” he said with emphasized tolerance for her ignorance, “that you don’t know this man. He’s—”
Chris hadn’t traveled all over the United States on her own and not learned how to handle all types of men. “I have just spent a great deal of time alone with this man and I know all I need to know about him. I am especially aware of the fact that he has the manners of a gentleman.”
She turned away to see Tynan standing beside her, an enormous grin on his face, his arm extended. “The lady has taste,” he said to Rory. “Sit back down and finish your meal. I’ll take good care of her.”
With that, he led Chris out of the hotel and into the moonlit street. But as soon as they were outside, he released her arm.
“Why did you do that?”
“Because I can’t stand that type of man,” she said with feeling.
“Type? But I thought all women liked that kind of man. Most all of them I’ve ever known do.”
“But then you’ve never met a woman who could run away from home at the age of eighteen and become a newspaper reporter either, have you?”
“No,” he said with a grin. “I haven’t. Do you really have a headache? Do you want me to take you back inside?”
She stopped and looked at him. “If I promise not to be forward, will you take me for a walk?”
“Forward?”
“Such as pursuing you and asking too many questions and, in general, making a nuisance of myself.”
He gave her a startled look, then grabbed her arm and pulled her into an alleyway. Before Chris could speak, he had her in his arms, holding her head against his chest. “Chris, you don’t understand, do you? Thank you for what you did in there tonight. If four men came up to me aiming guns at my head, I’d know how to handle them, but give me one spoiled rich boy and I’m at a loss. But you made me feel…”
“Like a winner?” she supplied and tried to look up at him but he held her head against him. “Deja vu,” she whispered.
“What?”
“I have a feeling that I’ve been here before, in just this situation. Remember our first meeting?”
