If You Only Knew (Harper Falls Book 3) (31 page)

Taking a deep, calming breath, Tyler tried again to start
her car. This time she was stopped by the ringing of her phone.

Drew. What, was he psychic? She briefly considered letting
it go to voicemail. Nope, she could use the sound of a friendly voice.

“Hi.”

“Hi, yourself. I wanted to check in to make sure we
were still on for tonight.”

Tonight
? Tyler searched her brain.
Was there
something special going on?

“I’m sorry. It’s been a crazy day. Did we have
plans?”

“Pizza, hanging out. Off the charts sex. Nothing
special.”

“Sounds pretty special to me.”

Right now, it sounded like heaven.

“Then it’s a date.” There was a pause. “Hey,
is everything okay?”

“Sure. Why do you ask?”

“Your voice sounds a little funny. Tense.”

“I had a long visit with my mother this morning. I
guess I’m still a little wound up.”

Boy, talk about the understatement of all understatements.
She was wound tighter than a Kansas tornado.

“Uh oh.”

Tyler smiled.
Wow
, she
actually
smiled.
Talking with Drew was always a good decision.

“Wrong. Uh oh is your mother, not mine. We cleared up
some things. Old business that had festered way too long. I’ll tell you about
it tonight.”

“Okay. Until then, take it easy. Breathe. Think of me
going down on you. I know I will be.”

Tyler’s eyes widened. That was by far the most original way
to end a phone call she’d ever experienced. It almost made her forget her
problems.
Almost
.

This time, when she turned the key, her hands were steady.
Time to go home. First thing on her agenda? Stop at the post office.

“THE LETTER WAS delivered, Tyler.”

“I didn’t get it, Walt.”

Tyler went to school with Walter Frome. She liked him. She
knew his wife, gave out candy to his kids on Halloween. Right now, she wanted to
reach over the counter and pull his heart out of his chest. Probably a good
thing that he didn’t know what was going on in her head.

“Carla is the mail carrier in your part of town. She’s
good. Reliable.”

“I’m not accusing anyone of anything, Walt. I know I
didn’t get the letter, that’s all.”

“You got that big, fancy security system put in last
month. Any chance someone could have broken in before that?”

“And stolen one piece of mail?”

“It was a thought.”

Tyler made her lawyer her next stop. After looking over the
document from this morning, he said it came down to two choices. Fight, which
would stop any foreclosure. It would also be expensive and, in the end, futile.
Or she could find whoever was behind RRAH Limited.

Then what? Beg them not to take her home? Tyler was fine
with a little groveling. There was only one big problem. Finding someone who
didn’t want to be found.

Drew. She kept coming back to him. He was co-owner of a
billion dollar security firm. In all likelihood, he would have a name for her
in a matter of hours.

Don’t be stubborn
, Tyler told herself.
Call. Now.

With a resigned sigh, she got out her phone and dialed.

Voicemail. This was not her day. She didn’t bother to leave
a message; she would see him later. She tried Jack. Again, not picking up. Then
Alex. Oh, come on. How could they all be unavailable?

Needing to vent on someone, she hit speed dial. Rose was
out. Dani too. Was there some mass orgy that she wasn’t invited to?

Frustrated beyond words, she did the only thing that came to
mind. She went home and worked. Nothing cleared her mind like losing herself in
her art. Today, as she ran her hands over the beginnings a whimsical sprite
hiding in a bed of wild poppies, it took almost an hour for her brain to hit
neutral. When it did, when she let go of everything else, her sculpture began
to sing.

Time had no meaning when she was focused on releasing her
subject for the lump of clay or block of marble. She knew it was in there,
begging to see the light of day. To be given the chance to inspire or delight.

This particular project was for a backyard garden. A woman
in San Diego saw a piece of Tyler’s in a gallery while visiting relatives in
Chicago. Her only instructions for the commission? Make it light and fun.

Standing back, looking critically at the winking figure,
Tyler thought,
mission accomplished
.

She was a sweaty, tired mess. And she felt better. If she
were forced to live in an alley, making a cardboard box her home, she would be
fine as long as she could create.

Now that was ridiculous. Even without her home, she would
never be homeless. There was money in the bank. Generous friends. In a pinch,
her mother would take her, though with M.J. in and out, that was not going to
happen.

Then there was Drew. Why did she always think of him last?

Tyler smiled a little sadly. That was easy. She thought of
him last because she wanted him. First, last. Always.

The doorbell made her jump. Glancing at her watch, she was
amazed to see how late it was. The bell rang again. It had to be Drew.

Tyler gave a quick look to be sure before disengaging the
locks. Damn, there were a lot of the suckers. She fumbled with the last one
before throwing open the door.

“I’m a dirty, sweaty mess so if you don’t want me in
your arms, you’d better speak up. Now.”

Drew wordlessly stepped into the studio, shut the door, and
pulled Tyler into his arms. He didn’t know what was wrong. Something told him
this was going to take more than a hug to fix. But it was a start.

Tyler sank in and held on. Closing her eyes, she let the
feel of his arms around her begin to chase away all the crap of the day.

“Let me help.”

“You are,” Tyler assured him. She burrowed deep,
taking in his smell, his warmth.

Drew could feel her distress. She practically vibrated with
it. He was fine with holding her as long as she needed. Scooping her off her
feet, he headed for the big overstuffed chair in the lounge area. He settled
them both, his right hand running along her back — soothing. His left hand
cupping her cheek, his thumb lightly caressing the soft skin.

Tyler felt like she had held her breath all day. Drew’s
touch gave her the ability to exhale. The process was slow. She wasn’t sure how
long they sat there. She did know his patience was infinite. He didn’t ask. He
didn’t push. He waited.

“It’s a long story.”

Drew kissed the top of her head before tipping her chin so
he could look into her eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He looked deep.
“For you, I have all the time in the world.”

“Don’t be sweet — not yet. I’ll cry. Once I start
blubbering, I’ll never get everything out.”

Now he was worried. Tyler blubbering? This was bad.

“Want me to be mean?” he asked, trying to inject a
little humor. “What did Cher say to Nicholas Cage in
Moonstruck
?
Oh, that’s right.
Snap out of it.
”

“She slapped him first. Twice.”

“If you don’t mind, I vote we skip that part.”

Tyler nodded, a little smile on her lips.
There we go
,
Drew thought,
now we
can get started.

“Tell me your troubles, Ty. Let me make it
better.”

“I don’t think anyone can do that,” Tyler said
with a sigh.

“We’ll see. Now, spill. You’ll feel better, I
promise.”

She started from the beginning. Her emotional visit with her
mother. The letter. The trip to Spokane. It all came tumbling out. Not
incoherently. Tyler was surprised at how calmly she was able to convey the
turbulent events of the day.

Drew let her talk. There was no need to interrupt or ask
questions. Once Tyler got started, she told him everything in detail. He felt
his emotions run the same gamut as hers. Happiness for the deeper connection
she found with her mother. Worry and despair that she might lose her studio.

Guilt. That one was his own. The idea that she needed him —
needed her friends — and no one could be found, burned like acid in his
stomach.

“I’m sorry, Ty.” Drew pulled her closer. “I
had a meeting that lasted all afternoon. Jack and Alex spent the afternoon with
their ladies. If none of them answered their phones, they were probably having
a little afternoon delight.”

That made Tyler smile again.

“I wasn’t that far off.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I couldn’t get in touch with any of you, I
thought there was an orgy and I wasn’t invited.”

Drew laughed.

“We are all strictly the one-on-one types.”

“Good to know.”

“Can I see the letter? The one that came today?”

Tyler disengaged from him long enough to retrieve the piece
of paper. Handing it to Drew, she sat next to him while he read.

“You lawyer is right. We need to find the owners of
RRAH Limited. Money speaks. I can—”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, you won’t fix this with your money.”

“Tyler, be reasonable.”

Tyler felt the rise of a familiar heat. Anger. Good. She
spent the day feeling helpless, crushed. She hated being a victim. It was time to
stop. Getting mad felt better.

“Reasonable? That’s an interesting word to toss around.
You have money. Lots of it. I don’t. Since when does rich equal the ability to
reason? My observations say just the opposite.”

“I want to help. Why is that wrong?”

“Because your first impulse is to throw money — your
money — at the problem. I need help. I need you to find me a name, not flaunt
your big bucks.”

“Flaunt? Did you say flaunt?”

“You heard me right.”

“Tyler.”

Drew stopped. He knew what she was doing. She needed to swat
at somebody. He was handy. Safe.

Drew let that sink in. Tyler knew she was safe with him. She
could kick and punch at him trusting he would take it. Give a little back.

Tyler was a fighter. She needed a man who could hold his
own. Drew felt a wave of satisfaction. He grinned. He was that man. And Tyler
knew it.

“Are you smiling? Seriously?”

“Here’s what I’m going to do for you, Tyler
Jones.” He held up three fingers. “First, I’m going to call Jack. He
can find out the name behind RRAH Limited.”

Drew took down one finger.

“Second, I’m going to order some soup from
Pansy’s
Diner
. I know the plan was pizza,” Drew said when Tyler would have
protested. “I’m guessing you haven’t eaten all day. You need something
comforting.”

“Pizza is comforting.”

Ignoring her remark, Drew wiggled the last finger.

“Finally, I’m going to strip you down to your lovely
birthday suit, get you in the shower. Wash you. Kiss you. Pamper you. We’ll
eat. We’ll make love.” Drew gathered her close. “We’ll figure out
what to do.”

Tyler didn’t want to argue. It all sounded too good.

“Isn’t Jack busy?”

“Jack had been
getting busy
with Rose all
day,” Drew laughed. “He won’t mind, Ty.”

After Drew had given him the Reader’s Digest, Jack not only
didn’t mind, he rushed Drew off the phone so he could get started.

Tyler listened with one ear while placing their dinner
order. She was lucky to have amazing friends. She could get by on her own; it
was good to know she didn’t have to.

“Now, I believe I said something about washing
you.”

Tyler eluded his grasp. She laughed, slapping his hands away
when he made another grab.

“One of us has to be out here when the food
arrives.”

“Call back. Tell them to delay delivery for another
half hour.”

Tyler sidestepped him, shaking her head. She pulled off her
t-shirt, uncovering a mint-colored bra trimmed in matching lace.

“Now that’s just not fair,” Drew said with a
frown. “I want to find out if your panties match.”

“No problem.”

Tyler unbuttoned her jeans, shimmying them down her hips.
She stepped out, showing Drew her underwear was indeed color-coordinated.

“Need help unhooking that?” he asked hopefully.

Tyler shook her head. “Front closure.”

She teased the bra open, showing more skin while keeping her
breasts fully covered.

“Don’t poke the bear, honey.”

“More like a big, sleek cat. Jaguar? Panther?”

“Go take your shower before I pounce.” He
pretended to lunge after her, enjoying the view of her butt as she scampered
out of the room.

Alone, Drew picked up the letter again. He took out his
phone, aimed, sending the picture to Jack with a few notes. It shouldn’t take
long. Digging was a specialty of his partner. If the information turned out to
be what Drew thought, the owner of RRAH Limited was going to be sorry
she
ever started this. He planned on finishing it — once and for all.

MARTIN JONES JUNIOR sat in his beat-up Chevy Nova, smoking
cigarettes, throwing back cheap whiskey. He stared, his hatred growing, at the
sleek black Ferrari parked in front of his bitch sister’s studio.

That should be his car. He deserved better than this piece
of crap he won in a poker game ten years ago. Even then, it was a rust bucket
that refused to start every other time. The smell of cat piss still lingered
from the visible stain in the backseat. How was that possible?

He checked his watch. That fucker Drew Harper probably
wasn’t leaving until morning. What he saw in Tyler, M.J. would never know. A
skinny ballbuster. He liked his women quiet, respectful, in bed and out. His
sister never knew when to shut up. M.J. imagined she was the same during sex.
He shuddered at the thought.

He lifted the almost empty bottle to his lips. Damn. Should
have brought a spare. There was still time to stop by the liquor store. Old
Lady Harper was paying him to watch Tyler and her fancy-ass son, not the
outside of a building. She’d never know if he cut out early.