Call Me Irresistible (37 page)

Ted knew something more than a bee sting had transpired. He looked at Meg for an explanation, but Meg kept her focus on Haley.

Haley dug into the pocket of her microscopic shorts for her car keys. She’d parked her Focus facing the lane, presumably to make a fast getaway after she’d burned Meg’s clothes. She pulled her keys out and studied them for a moment, still waiting for Meg to expose her. When that didn’t happen, she began taking short, tentative steps toward her car.

“Welcome to the rest of your life,” Meg called out.

Ted regarded her curiously. Haley faltered, then stopped. When she finally turned around, her eyes were bleak, pleading.

Meg shook her head.

Haley’s throat muscles worked. Meg held her breath.

Haley turned back toward her car. Took another step. Stopped and faced him. “It was me,” she said in a rush. “I’m the one who did those things to Meg.”

Ted stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m—I’m the one who vandalized the church.”

Ted Beaudine wasn’t often at a loss for words, but this was one of those moments. Haley twisted the keys in her hands. “I sent that letter. I put the bumper stickers on her car and tried to break off the wipers and threw the rock at her windshield.”

He shook his head, trying to take it all in. Then he rounded on Meg. “You told me a rock fell off a truck.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” Meg said.
Or take it upon yourself to replace my Rustmobile with a Humvee, something you’re perfectly capable of doing.

He spun back to confront Haley. “Why? Why would you do all that?”

“To—to make her leave. I’m . . . sorry.”

For a genius, he was slow on the uptake. “What did she ever do to you?”

Once again, Haley faltered. This would be the hardest part for her, and she looked at Meg for help. But Meg wasn’t giving it. Haley’s fist curled around her keys. “I was jealous of her.”

“Jealous of
what
?”

Meg wished he didn’t sound so incredulous.

Haley’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Because of you.”

“Me?” More incredulity.

“Because I fell in love with you,” Haley said, each word wrapped in misery.

“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard.” Ted’s disgust was so palpable that Meg almost felt sorry for Haley. “How could tormenting Meg show your so-called
love
?” The word was a snarl that sent Haley’s fantasy world crashing around her.

She pressed her hands to her stomach. “I’m sorry.” She started to cry. “I . . . never meant for it to go so far. I’m—so sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” he shot back. And then he delivered the final proof of exactly how unrequited her feelings for him were. “Get in your car. We’re going to the police station. And you’d better call your mother on the way because you’re going to need all the support you can get.”

Tears rolled down Haley’s cheeks, and small, choked sobs caught in her throat, but she kept her head up. She’d accepted her fate, and she didn’t argue with him.

“Hold on.” Meg blew air into her cheeks, and then released it. “I have to vote no on the police.”

Haley stared at her. Ted waved her off. “I’m not arguing with you about this.”

“Since I’m the victim, I get the final say.”

“Like hell you do,” he said. “She terrorized you, and now she’s going to pay.”

“For whatever it cost you to put in my new windshield, that’s for sure.”

He was so furious that his skin had gone pale beneath his tan. “For more than that. She’s broken at least a dozen laws. Trespassing, harassment, vandalism—”

“How many laws did you break,” Meg said, “when you vandalized the Statue of Liberty?”

“I was
nine.
”

“And a genius,” she pointed out, while Haley watched them, not sure what was going on or how it would affect her. “That means you were at least nineteen in IQ years. That’s a year older than she is.”

“Meg, think about what she did to you.”

“I don’t have to. Haley’s the one who needs to think, and I could be wrong about this, but I have a feeling she’s going to be doing a lot of that. Please, Ted. Everybody deserves a second chance.”

Haley’s future rested with Ted, but she was looking at Meg with an expression that combined shame and wonder.

Ted glared down at Haley. “You don’t deserve this.”

Haley wiped her cheeks with her fingers and gazed at Meg. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I won’t ever forget this. And I promise. Somehow I’ll make it up to you.”

“Don’t worry about making it up to me,” Meg said. “Make it up to yourself.”

Haley took that in. Finally, she nodded—a small, hesitant motion—and then she nodded more decisively.

As Haley walked to her car, Meg remembered the nagging feeling that she’d let something important slip past her. This must be it. Somewhere in her subconscious, she must have suspected Haley, although she wasn’t sure how she could have.

Haley drove away. Ted kicked the gravel with his heel. “You’re too soft, do you know that? Too damned soft.”

“I’m a spoiled celebrity child, remember? Being soft is all I know.”

“This is no time for joking around.”

“Hey, if you can think of a bigger joke than Ted Beaudine hooking up with a mere mortal like Meg—”

“Stop it!”

The day’s tension was getting to her, but she didn’t want him to see how vulnerable she felt. “I don’t like it when you’re crabby,” she said. “It defies the laws of nature. If you can turn into a grouch, who knows what’s next? The entire universe might blow up.”

He ignored that. Instead, he hooked one of her wet curls behind her ear. “What did Spence want? Other than your rapt attention and an introduction to your celebrity friends?”

“That . . . basically covers it.” She turned her cheek into his palm.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

She turned her voice into a sexy purr. “Babe, there’s lots I’m not telling you.”

He smiled and touched his thumb to her bottom lip. “You can’t go running off by yourself. Everybody is trying to make sure you’re never alone with him, but you have to do your part, too.”

“I know. And believe me, it won’t happen again. Although I can’t tell you how much it bothers me that I’m the one who has to go into hiding just because some horny zillionaire—”

“I know. It’s not right.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Just stay out of his way for a couple more days, and then you can tell him to go to hell. As a matter of fact, I’ll do it for you. You can’t imagine how sick I am of having that clown run my life.”

The feeling returned without warning. The sensation of something lying in wait for her. Something that had nothing to do with Haley Kittle.

The sky had grown darker, and the wind pressed her T-shirt to her body. “Don’t you . . . Don’t you think it’s odd that Spence hasn’t heard about us? Or that Sunny hasn’t heard? So many people know, but . . . not them. Sunny doesn’t know, does she?”

He glanced up at the clouds. “Doesn’t seem to.”

She couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. “Twenty women saw you kiss me at that luncheon. Some of them must have told their husbands, a friend. Birdie told Haley.”

“It figures.”

The racing clouds threw his face into shadow, and the fruit she’d been trying so hard to touch came closer. She sucked in more air. “All those people know we’re a couple. But not Spence and Sunny.”

“This is Wynette. Everybody pulls together.”

The fruit hung so close she could catch its scent, no longer pleasant, but fetid and cloying. “Such loyal people.”

“They don’t make them any better.”

And just like that, she had the poisoned fruit in her hand. “You knew all along that nobody would say anything to Spence or Sunny.”

A distant roll of thunder . . . He craned his neck toward the video camera in the tree, as if he wanted to make sure it hadn’t moved. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“Oh, you understand, all right.” She spoke the rest on a single, painful breath. “When you kissed me . . . When you told all those women we were a couple . . . You knew they’d keep it a secret.”

He shrugged. “People’ll do what they’re going to do.”

The fruit split open in her hands, revealing its wormy, rotten flesh. “All your talk about openness and honesty, about how much you hated sneaking around. I bought it.”

“I do hate sneaking around.”

The clouds rushed overhead, the thunder rumbled, and a wave of fury caught her in its grip. “I was so
touched
when you kissed me in front of everyone. So giddy that you were willing to make that kind of sacrifice. For me! But you . . .
you
weren’t risking a thing.”

“Wait a minute.” His eyes flamed with righteous indignation. “You lit into me that night. You said what I did was stupid.”

“That’s what my head said. But my
heart . . .
My stupid heart . . .” Her voice broke. “It was singing.”

He winced. “Meg . . .”

The play of emotions on the face of this man who would never willingly hurt anyone was painfully easy to decipher. His dismay. His concern. His pity. She hated it—hated him. She wanted to hurt him as he’d hurt her, and she knew exactly how to punish him. With her honesty.

“I’ve fallen in love with you,” she said. “Just like the others.”

He couldn’t hide his dismay. “Meg . . .”

“But I don’t mean any more to you than the rest of them. Any more to you than Lucy did.”

“Hold it right there.”

“I’m such an idiot. That kiss meant so much to me. I let it mean so much.” She gave a harsh laugh that was mainly a sob, no longer certain which of them she was most angry with. “And the way you wanted me to stay at your house . . . Everybody was so worried about that, but if it had happened, they’d have killed themselves covering for you. You knew that.”

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” But he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

She took in his strong, clean profile. “Just the sight of you made me feel like dancing,” she whispered. “I’ve never loved a man like I love you. Never imagined the kind of feelings I have for you.”

His mouth twisted and his eyes darkened with pain. “Meg, I care. Don’t think I don’t care. You’re— You’re wonderful. You make me . . .”

He paused, searching for a word, and she sneered at him through her tears. “Do I make your heart sing? Do I make you feel like dancing?”

“You’re upset. You—”

“My love is hot!” The words burst from her. “It’s a burning thing. It boils and churns and runs deep and strong. But all your emotions are cool and spare. You stand on the sidelines where you don’t have to sweat too much. That’s why you wanted to marry Lucy. It was neat. It was logical. Well, I’m not neat. I’m messy and wild and disruptive, and you have broken my heart.”

With a clap of thunder, the rain began to fall. His face twisted. “Don’t say that. You’re upset.”

He tried to reach out to her, but she jerked away. “Get out of here. Leave me alone.”

“Not like this.”

“Exactly like this. Because you only want what’s best for people. And right now what’s best for me is to be alone.”

The rain was falling more heavily now. She could see his internal scales working away. Weighing the pros and cons. Wanting to do the right thing. Always do the right thing. That’s how he was made. And by letting him see how much he’d hurt her, she couldn’t have hurt him more.

A crack of lightning split the air. He pulled her up the steps and beneath the overhang above the church doors. She jerked away. “Leave! Can’t you at least do that?”

“Please, Meg. We’ll sort this out. We just need a little time.” He tried to touch her face, but when she flinched, he let his arm drop to his side. “You’re upset. And I understand. Later tonight, we’ll—”

“No. Not tonight.”
Not tomorrow. Not ever.

“Listen to me. Please . . . I have meetings all day tomorrow with Spence and his people, but tomorrow night, we’ll . . . We’ll have dinner at my house where there won’t be any interruptions. Just the two of us. We’ll both have had time to think about all this, and we can talk it through.”

“Right. Time to think. That’s going to fix everything.”

“Be fair, Meg. This has come out of nowhere. Promise me,” he said roughly. “Unless you promise to meet me tomorrow night, I’m not going anywhere.”

“All right,” she said woodenly. “I promise.”

“Meg . . .”

Once again he tried to touch her, and once again she resisted. “Just go. Please. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

He studied her for so long she didn’t think he’d leave. But eventually he did, and she stood at the top of the church stairs, watching him drive away in the rain.

When he was out of sight, she did what she hadn’t been able to do before. She walked around the side of the church and broke a window. A single pane she could reach through to unfasten the latch. Then she shoved the window open and climbed into her dusty, empty sanctuary.