Taming Theresa (15 page)

Owen looked up at Diane, admiring her even
delicate features and the long blond hair. So, the guy's not
interested? This John is an idiot.

Theresa shifted uncomfortably in her chair,
"Do you have a date for the wedding? One of my brothers
could...."

Diane held up her hand. "No sympathy dates. I
appreciate the thought, but no. Thanks anyway." She looked around
for Kay. "I need a refill." The waitress saw her signal and came
over.

"Kay, would you please bring us another
bottle of this yummy Chardonnay?

"Sure thing, Honey."

A man strode through the front door and as
Owen watched, walked straight to their table. This guy must be John
coming for the car keys. They all seemed to know one another. With
renewed interest, he saw Theresa Buonadies open her purse and hand
her keys to the newcomer,

"Thanks John," said Theresa. "When should I
pick it up?"

"I'll let you know." Looking at the glasses
and wine bottles, he grinned. "Having a good time ladies? Remember,
Vince is on duty tonight. You know how tough he is on DUI
offenders. Let me know if you need a designated driver." Laughing,
he turned and waving, left through the front door.

So, that's John. He bit into his hamburger.
This food is so good. I’m glad they decided to eat here. At least I
can enjoy dinner today. Owen wasn't always able to stop and eat in
his line of work. He scooped the remaining onions onto his plate as
Kay brought him another coke. "Thanks, he said absently, as the
conversation continued at the girl’s table.

"Oh Diane." Vicky reached over and squeezed
the other girl's hand. "You've been so great to me since I moved up
here. I feel so happy here and now I'm getting married. I want you
to be happy too."

Theresa argued, "A man in your life isn't
always a good thing, I oughta know." She drained her glass and
accepted another as Kay moved around the table pouring wine."

"You got that right! Men can be a royal
pain," said Kay enthusiastically joining in the conversation.

"Tony was a piece of you-know-what. I don't
want or need a man in my life right now," said Theresa, lifting her
glass.

Owen listened carefully. Hmmm, now we're
getting somewhere. Go ahead and tell us more about Tony.

"But what about sex?" asked Vicky. "You'd
miss that wouldn't you?"

"Big deal. I never could see what all the
hype's about," said Theresa.

"You just need to find the right guy, Honey."
Kay winked. "Then you'll understand.

"Kay's right,” said Vicky. “Sex is...well, it
can be amazing. I'm sure you'll meet someone soon."

Kay giggled, "It's all about the big O. Right
girls? Some guys don't know how to pull it off, if you know what I
mean."

As he was consumed by another fit of
coughing, Diane frowned in Owens's direction. "What's wrong with
Mr. Blue Eyes? Sounds like he's coughing up a lung over there."

Glancing over at him, they shrugged and went
back to their conversation.

Diane stared into her wine glass and sighed.
"It's been so long, I don't even remember sex. Maybe I should just
let some stranger pick me up and make love to me all night. Like
that hot guy over there.” She gestured to Chris, and the women
laughed.

Owen knocked over his glass and had to move
quickly to avoid the frothing brown stream as it headed for his
lap.

John hurried around the corner to his Shell
Station where he'd parked his car alongside Theresa's. Opening her
driver's side door, he pushed it against the steadily increasing
wind and slipped inside. Starting the engine, he put the Mustang
into reverse, backed out before pulling around his building, and
into the open bay door then let it close behind him. Writing a note
for his mechanic, he placed it where the man would notice it first
thing in the morning.

Tony thrust the little bride and groom back
into the box and tossed it on the back seat. Headlights approached
and he turned off the overhead dome light. Now there were a few
people hurrying by, heads bent into the wind. He angrily drummed
his fingers on the steering wheel and tried to think. There was
some other crap in that trunk. Must have grabbed the wrong bag,
damn it.

Fishing a cigarette from his shirt pocket, he
deftly flicked his lighter and dragged. He exhaled and drew again
without thinking. In a minute, the inside of his car filled with
smoke. Then he grimaced with sudden pain as he realized the butt
had burned to his fingertips. Angrily he flung open his door and
dropped the remains of the cigarette into the street.

I'll just have to go back and look again. Got
to get that money or I’m a dead man. He rooted in the back seat
until he found his windbreaker.

Once more, he stood in the shadows behind the
gas station looking around and listening. When he was certain that
he was alone, Tony stepped to the red Mustang, opened the door and
felt for the trunk release. Quickly he stepped to get to the back
of the car. In the darkness, he failed to notice the license plate
was New York and not New Jersey. He also didn't notice the "NRA"
and pink "Save the Ta Tas" bumper stickers. Reaching in, his
fingers immediately made contact with the handles of a shopping
bag. Ah ha, here we go. Got it! He heard laughter in the next
street. Must be people coming out of that restaurant. Grinning to
himself, he closed the trunk and jogged back to his car. He jumped
in, hurled the bag onto the seat, and closed his door, sighing with
relief.

A hurried glance up and down the street
satisfied him that no one had seen his little burglary. He started
the engine and hands on the wheel he put his foot on the gas, then
stopped and turned off the engine. He looked at the bag on the seat
beside him. Better check it out. Looks like my bag, but....
Thrusting one hand inside, he pulled out a square gift-wrapped box.
Shit shit shit! What's this? It ain't my money. That's for damn
sure. In frustration, he turned on the light. He once more ripped
open the wrappings only to find an actual wedding gift. It was a
crystal glass bowl. What the hell is Theresa doing with all these
wrapped up presents and what the hell did that bitch do with my
money?

Three men, hidden in the trees beside the
road, listened to the sound of approaching hoof beats slow to a
walk and then thud onto the wooden bridge that spanned the creek.
Once on the near side, the horse was spurred again to a cantor.

John Paulding took up his musket and rose to
his feet. Every farmer or horseman they'd stopped that morning had
proved to be innocent enough when questioned. Could this fellow be
the miscreant about whom Ethan had warned them? Followed closely by
his companions, David Williams and Isaac Van Wart, he left their
hiding place in the thicket and stepped squarely into the rider’s
path.

"Halt," he shouted, but the man continued on.
Paulding saw that the horseman was dressed not as a soldier, but as
a civilian.

"Halt," he yelled again, and as he and his
friends raised their muskets, the rider reined in his mount.
Paulding observed the stranger's uneasiness under his scrutiny. The
man’s eyes darted back and forth, finally settling on him, as the
leader of the group. He notices my Hessian uniform, he thought.
I'll warrant he wonders to which side we belong. Whereas Williams
and Van Wart wore brown homespun, as did much of the Westchester
Militia.

"What's your hurry friend? Where are you
bound?" he inquired.

"To the city. Are you of our party?" asked
the horseman.

"And what party would that be?" replied
Paulding.

"Why the lower party, of course. I am a
British officer on official business for Sir Henry Clinton. Let me
pass."

Paulding took in the man's elegant saddle and
fine horse. The rider's boots were of good quality and looked as
though they belonged to a military man, but the rest of his
clothing was that of a civilian. This fellow could be a Tory agent
for the British. I like not his demeanor. I'll let him know to what
side we belong all right.

"We are not of your party, but are loyal
Americans. Get down from your horse," he said firmly, raising his
voice.

"Ah, that was only a ruse to get you to let
me continue on my way. I am actually of the upper party and I'm on
a mission for General Benedict Arnold. I have here a pass signed by
him." He took a slip of paper from a pocket, smiling weakly.

"I said, get down," Paulding bellowed.

Sighing, the stranger slowly dismounted,
warily eyeing the three muskets aimed at his head. Paulding stepped
forward and snatched the paper from his hand. Reading it quickly,
he stuffed it into his own pocket.

"This could, like as not, be a forgery. Have
you any other papers on your person? Any money perhaps?" he
asked.

The man took a gold watch from his pocket and
proffered it; if they would let him go, he said, it would be theirs
to keep. He became agitated and threatened them, insisting that
General Arnold had requested him to meet with someone at Dobb's
Ferry. It would not go well with them, he warned, if the General
learned that they'd delayed him. He began to promise them absurdly
extravagant bribes if only they'd release him. The stranger
insisted that he would direct them to a gentleman in New York City
who would give them a thousand gold guineas. He would tell them
where to go and for whom to ask. "Just say John Anderson sent you,"
he pleaded.

"No sir, not for ten thousand guineas. Not
for any amount, not yet at least." At Paulding's command the other
two each took an arm and forced the stranger into the trees beside
the road. There he was searched and they found, secreted in his
boots, plans of the West Point Fortress and locations of American
troops. Some of these documents were signed, by General Arnold as
well. There could be no doubt that here was a British spy. Perhaps
the very one about whom, Tamsin, had warned Ethan. Even so, the man
must be taken into custody.

"We'll take him to the Dragoons at North
Castle," he said to Williams and Van Wart. "Tie his hands."

From: Love in Rebellion by Tori Baxter

Dominick selected an apple from one of the
boxes lined up against the wall of the barn. He polished it for a
moment and then drew out a pocketknife and began to pare it.

“That’s the last of this year’s harvest,”
said Jack from where he was tinkering with the tractor’s engine.
“Everything else has been sold and trucked off to retail outlets,
the wineries and so on.”

“You keep everything very neat and clean
here,” said Dominick, looking around him at the farm implements and
tools hanging in orderly rows on the wall. “Yes, this is a good
place you have.”

“Thanks, Dom. We like it. I guess it suits
us. Victoria likes the idea of living in the home where her
grandmother grew up.”

"Yes, I know. She was very fond of her Nanna,
and devoted to her.” He cut a slice of firm apple and slipped it
into his mouth chewing thoughtfully. “Years ago, the family was
close. Theresa and Victoria were fast friends when they were little
girls. It isn’t anyone’s fault that we drifted apart. It happens.
People get busy and time passes. Your marriage now, the wedding is
good because it brings everyone together."

"I hope so, Dom. She thinks a lot of you. By
the way, the girls are having dinner together in town. Victoria
wanted to see how the room looks and talk about wedding stuff with
Theresa."

The older man nodded, finished his apple, and
tossed the core into a trashcan by the barn door. He looked out at
the rear of the farmhouse, where light streamed from the kitchen
windows out across the lawn. “She likes that little office room of
hers. I imagine she spends a great deal of time there, on that
computer. She's always very busy.”

“Sure, she likes her office,” Jack mumbled.
Does he know anything about her books?

Dominick held his gaze for a beat. Folding
his arms across his chest, he gave a barely perceptible nod of his
head. “You know what she does. You are aware of the books she
writes.”

"Uh huh." Jack wasn't sure where Victoria’s
uncle was going with the conversation. He studied the tractor's
engine closely to avoid looking him in the eye.

“My niece wants no one to know that she is
Tori Baxter, author of the women's romance novels. I know that you
will respect that. Of course, Rose doesn’t know, but I've always
been aware of how she supported herself. I say nothing because
Victoria wants it that way and I respect her wishes.”

He stared at Dominick in amazement. He knows
about Tori Baxter and her steamy hot romance novels?

"Did you think I wouldn't have seen to my
family's welfare? Her secrets are safe with me."

Jack stood, put his tools on the tractor's
seat, and turned to face Dominick. "Thank you." Jack liked what he
saw in Dominick's chiseled features and dark eyed intensity.

"So, you are like a son to me now."

"Sure," said Jack, taking a few steps over to
shake hands with this new in-law. Things had sure changed for him
in the six short months since Victoria had arrived.

"Good," said Dominick. "Now I need to share
another small secret with you and I need to ask your
cooperation.

"Sure. What is it?" Jack gave him his full
attention.

Dominick looked across the lawn to the house
again. It was a while before he spoke. "There has been some trouble
that concerns my business. One restaurant in particular, the one
that Theresa has been managing, has two or three employees engaged
in some illegal activity. There may be more. I don’t know the
precise nature of the criminal activity, except that it involves
drugs. In addition, they have been using our business accounts to
launder money," he said, rubbing his hands together as though he
were washing them.