Page 509 of Summer Heat
“Amazing, isn’t she?” He put his jacket on. “I used to have one in high school, but a crazy woman trashed it when she got mad at me.”
“Trashed it? How?”
“She took a hammer to the windows and the lights, and slit the tires.” He frowned, remembering how wounded and furious he’d been, coming out of the school to find the car destroyed. “And as if that wasn’t enough, she put holes all over the body with a screwdriver.”
“Good grief! What was she so mad about?” Tamara was surprised. Valerie’s version of their ill-fated romance had not included these things.
“I broke up with her.” He shrugged. “That was about the fifth or sixth time I tried. She was crazy, that girl.” He shook his head, remembering. “Crazy Valerie. I wonder what happened to her.”
A sudden cold infused the room. “She died,” Tamara said abruptly.
“What?”
Tamara’s eyes glittered with an icy light, and her posture was definitely not friendly now. “Valerie Jensen, right? She drove herself off a cliff.”
A pang touched him. “Poor kid. When did it happen?”
“A little over four years ago.”
“That’s really sad.” Sobered, he remembered seeing her one Christmas. She’d seemed better then. Better enough that he’d hooked up with her against his better judgment.
Tamara’s chilly silence finally penetrated. He glance over at her, and was surprised to see pure hatred on her face. “Hey, I didn’t do it,” he said, lightly. “I swear.”
“Nobody said you did.” Her words were dry and weary. “She was my cousin, Lance. I loved her.”
He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He’d been planning to exit with an invitation to dinner, but maybe this wasn’t exactly the best timing. “I guess I’ll see you around,” he said.
“Good night.”
At the door, he hesitated, and looked back at her. Rigidly, she stood by the table, but her eyes were not quite so cold. “Thanks for supper,” he said, and left, closing the door behind him.
* * *
Tamara sank wearily into the chair, her limbs trembling with the roller coaster of emotions she’d ridden tonight. Compassion, fear, desire, fondness and pure, furious lust when he’d kissed her. Now a wild sense of betrayal and sorrow mixed with guilt.
Crazy Valerie.
What was she doing? From the moment he’d arrived in town, Tamara had been promising herself she’d find revenge. And what had she done instead? Laughed with him. Admired him. Wanted him.
She buried her face in her arms. Oh, yes, she wanted him. The kiss lingered like poison on her lips. His hands, so big and callused and gentle, clung in ghostly imprints to her cheeks. He was excruciatingly tender, and yet the promise of wild, pure pleasure was there in every tiny brush of his lips, his hands, his exploring, curious fingers.
Crazy Valerie.
No wonder Valerie had been so smitten. Tamara had been in his presence four times, and her head was already crammed full of erotic imaginings. He gave the impression of sinfulness, combined with a surprising sweetness, and a promise of long, playful, hedonistic sex.
What woman, with even one hormone left in her body, could resist that heady combination?
Crazy Valerie.
Tamara had no right to be thinking of him in this way. No right to betray her cousin’s memory because she was lonely and Lance offered a respite from the daily grind.
She lifted her head, narrowing her eyes. He was charming and sexy and plainly liked women of all kinds, and had decided Tamara might be a nice diversion.
Valerie had likely thought he was a nice guy, too. Until she had got to know him. Until he broke her heart. Until he used her and left her—pregnant—sending Valerie literally over the edge.
Firmly, Tamara slammed her books closed. She’d do well to remember what had happened to her cousin. Maybe revenge was out of the question, since Tamara couldn’t trust herself in his presence. But she wouldn’t fall prey to his charm, either.
She’d just stay away from him.
