The Wrong Man (4 page)

“Okay, folks. There’s still plenty of food, and we have a wonderful scavenger hunt planned for the kids.” Yvonne’s cheery voice receded toward the back of the house.

“Are you okay?” Shawna whispered into the quiet.

“I’m fine.” Talia couldn’t quite look her friend in the eye. She’d ruined the party with a horrible scene, and she was still shaking after the confrontation. “I better go.”

“Don’t leave. Talia, take a minute—”

“No.” She finally looked into Shawna’s worried eyes. “I’m fine. I’m sorry about all this drama. I know how you hate drama.”

“Would you stop?” Shawna touched her arm. “You’re my friend and I’m worried about you. You shouldn’t leave now, when you’re so upset.”

“I won’t feel any better if I stay, and I don’t want to talk right now.” The adrenaline high was wearing off, leaving her numb and empty. Carter’s characterization wounded her deeply. She covered Shawna’s hand on her arm and squeezed. “I’ll be fine.”

“At least let one of the men walk you out in case he’s out there.”

“He’s not going to hurt me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know,” Talia insisted. “I was married to him for ten years. That’s not Carter. He lost it for a second, but he won’t harm me.”

“I’ll walk her out,” Tomas said behind her.

“It’s not necessary,” Talia said, embarrassed he’d been part of the confrontation between her and Carter. What must he think after hearing all the horrible names her ex-husband had called her? She avoided looking at him.

“I don’t mind.” The determination in his voice brooked no argument.

“Let him walk you out.” Shawna pulled her in for a hug. “Call me. Please. Let me know you’re okay,” she whispered.

“I will.” She hugged Shawna tight, taking comfort in the embrace.

She waved goodbye to Ryan in the hallway and walked out the door. William was coming back up the steps, and she gave him a wan smile before averting her eyes from his look of pity.

All the personal problems between her and Carter had been laid bare for everyone to see. How much he despised her, how far apart they’d grown. Their marriage had started to crumble a few years ago, but the demise had come at an accelerated rate within the past year. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened. She only knew they barely tolerated each other toward the end, like two roommates forced to live together in a too-small house with too many memories. They hadn’t made love in over a year and had been sleeping in separate rooms for months before the divorce.

Walking to the car, she heard Tomas’s footsteps behind her. She stopped at the driver’s door and felt she should say something. She cleared her throat and turned to face him. “You didn’t have to volunteer to be my boyfriend.”

He hooked his thumbs in the loops of his jeans. “I wanted to.”

“I appreciate it, but you got dragged into the middle of my mess.”

“I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

Her eyes flicked over him. “I see.”

“What do you see?” he asked. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

A heated flush climbed up her neck. “You know how to handle yourself in a fight, and…you know…you have big muscles.” Very big, and firm to the touch.

“I work out,” he said, keeping his eyes pinned on her and obviously enjoying her discomfort. He ran a hand under his shirt, rubbing his stomach. “Not like I used to. I’m getting soft.”

Not that Talia could see. She caught a flash of tanned skin and her fingers itched to run over the same area. The skin there appeared to be as firm and smooth as his biceps.

She cleared her throat again. “Well, like I said, thanks.”

He tilted his head, analyzing her face. “Are you sure you’re all right? Okay enough to drive?” His look of concern made her want to burst into tears. Made her want to be held and told that she wasn’t a heartless bitch.

“Never better,” she lied. “It’s not like I’m drunk.” But she would be, once she arrived at her condo. She had a bottle of tequila and margarita mix in the freezer to welcome her home.

He continued to study her, as if he didn’t believe her. “It’s too bad you’re leaving.”

“Why? Because you’ll miss me?” She needed to joke around, to enjoy the normality of their banter. Their back and forth teasing always made her feel better, and she needed to feel better.

“Miss you? No way. It’s just that I won’t have anyone to pick on when you’re gone.”

She pinned on a happy face, falling into the comfort of their repartee. “I’m sure one of those women back there will be happy to oblige you in whatever you want.”

“But none of those women are you.”

She blinked. The comment took her by surprise. He didn’t mean anything by it. Did he?

“Unfortunately for you,” she said, keeping the conversation light, “you’ll have to make do without me. Don’t be too sad. I’ll grace you with my presence another day.”

“You promise?”

She paused, uncertain. She looked at him, and he looked right back at her. His face didn’t give anything away, and she couldn’t tell if he was flirting or not. Was he flirting with her?

“I…” For the second time that day, he’d made her speechless. She moistened her dry lips with her tongue. “I…um…I don’t make promises often,” she finished lamely. She found her keys in her purse and held them up. “Time to get out of here.”

“It’s okay to turn to your friends,” he said quietly.

She froze, staring at her reflection in the driver side window. “Is that what you are? A friend?” She was relieved he stood to the side and couldn’t see the light of hope in her eyes.

“I am right now.”

And that made her want to cry. What the hell was wrong with her? Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away in a hurry, fumbling for the door handle. “I’ll let you know if I need a friend,” she said, her voice husky.

She sat in the car, but Tomas held open the door so she couldn’t pull it closed.

Their eyes locked, and she noted the concern there, his eyes searching her face. “You do that,” he said.

He shut the door and sauntered away.
Sauntered
, because he never rushed anywhere.

She started the car and waited, not knowing why until he turned at the door and waved. She’d been waiting for him to turn around. Her heart took flight and she waved back, feeling a tad bit silly at how excited she’d become, just because he’d acknowledged her one last time.

Even after he went inside, she didn’t drive away but sat there, pondering the events of the day. She’d never thought of Tomas as the sensitive type, but maybe she’d been wrong. First the compliment about her smile, then rescuing her from an embarrassing situation with her ex, the I’m-not-sure-if-he’s-flirting-with-me comments, and now what seemed to be sincere concern. She wasn’t sure he was the same man she’d spent the past couple of years arguing with whenever they happened to be in the same room.

She didn’t know who this new Tomas was, but she was starting to like him.

Chapter Five

The following day, Talia stared unseeing out the window of her tri-level loft. A light drizzle dampened the ground and cloaked the outdoors with an ethereal cloud, making her want to crawl back into bed. Normally she worked every weekend, but today she wanted to get her house in order.

She’d intended to unpack ever since moving out of the house she had shared with Carter and moving here, but she hadn’t done much to make this new place feel like home. The walls were bare and boxes filled with her personal effects remained stacked out of the way. A few had been opened to retrieve necessary items, but for the most part they remained untouched.

She reserved most of her energy for work, but it seemed from the minute her feet crossed the threshold each night, she became a listless shell. She couldn’t stomach herself anymore. Today she was turning over a new leaf.

“I’m strong, capable, and independent,” she said aloud. Enough with the self-pity.

Upstairs, she changed into a cream blouse, dark brown pumps, and tan slacks. The first item on today’s agenda was a trip to the hardware store to purchase paint, brushes, and any other necessary tools for the project she had in mind.

The entire loft was decorated in modern Scandinavian design with neutral colors, mostly white. Today she would add some color.

****

The long line at Home Depot set Tomas’s teeth on edge. He preferred to get in early and leave before the rush, but his mother had called from Cuba that morning and delayed his trip to the store. Not that he minded, since he looked forward to their conversations and news from home.

She’d called to thank him for the extra money he’d sent last month, but the conversation lasted over an hour. She went into detail about the birth of his younger brother’s first son. He already had three girls, but his brother had celebrated the entire night his son was born, getting drunk and smoking cigars on the porch with his rowdy friends. Tomas wished he could have been there to celebrate. Having not seen his family in years, he longed for the closeness they’d shared. It would be good to see them in the flesh.

The line moved and he stepped forward. Idly, he let his gaze roam, checking out the do-it-yourselfers, when a flash of cream caught his eye. His stomach curled into a knot, and he jerked his head to the right, spotting Talia before she disappeared down the paint aisle pushing a cart.

The debate of whether or not he should say hello lasted all of two seconds before he left the line and followed in the direction she’d gone. He sidestepped a customer who blocked his view, craned his neck, and saw her stop. His pulse spiked to an unnaturally high level, but he controlled his body’s outer reaction by lumbering over to where she stood in front of the paint cards.

“Well, well, well,” he said, gliding up beside her. “Today must be my lucky day.”

Her arched brows lifted in surprise, but once she recovered, a tiny smile—as if she tried to hide it—adorned her lips. “That makes one of us,” she said.

“Oof.” He grabbed his stomach, as if she’d wounded him. “That hurt.”

She giggled, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. What would those lush, soft-looking lips taste like if he ran his tongue across them?

“Whatever,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“Picking up air filters for my lawn mower.” He held up the package. “And you?”

“I’m going to paint an accent wall in my living room and one in the kitchen.” She ran her fingers over the sample cards in the red and pink family. She had neat, short nails with a clear coat of polish over them.

“You’re going to paint?” he asked, surprised.

Talia placed a fist on her hip. “Why do you sound so shocked?”

He raked his gaze over her, from the top of her head—where a tortoiseshell clip held her long hair in a low ponytail—to the pumps on her feet. “You’re not dressed like the typical do-it-yourselfer. See the way I’m dressed?” He waved a hand over his paint-spattered T-shirt and jeans. “This is what normal people wear when they work on their houses.”

“I’m not working on my house right this minute,” she said in a crabby voice, which was oddly attractive. For some reason he couldn’t help digging at her every chance he could. “When I get home, I’ll change into something more comfortable.”

The thought of seeing her change into
something more comfortable
had him conjuring images of skimpy, lace-edged lingerie. She looked like the type to have drawers overflowing with teddies, negligees, and matching bras and panties. He shifted from one foot to the other to ease the ache blossoming in his crotch.

“Have you ever painted before? Do you know what to buy?” he asked.

Uncertainty flitted across her features. “I…”

“I thought so. Let’s start at the beginning. What color did you decide on?”

“Um…I like the reds. This one.” She pulled a card marked red passion.

He studied her bent head. “You sure you don’t need help?”

Her head snapped up. “I want to do this myself.” Her voice held a steeliness he hadn’t expected, and he admired her determination.

“Okay, then you need the right tools.”

“Are you going to tell me what they are or stare at me all day?” She cocked a brow.

Had he been staring? He did a mental headshake. “All right, Miss Personality. Come this way.”

He spent the next few minutes walking her through the process. He suggested which paint to purchase, and based on the description of the walls she planned to paint, told her how much paint to buy. While a store employee mixed the color, he steered her toward the aisle of supplies. They added a drop cloth, painter’s tape, and brushes to the cart. She paid close attention to his advice and did this cute thing where she wrinkled her brow and placed a manicured nail between her teeth, concentrating hard and interrupting with questions every now and again.

“Remember,” he said, wrapping up, “the key is to be organized and take your time. Keep a damp rag handy so if you mess up, you can wipe off the paint while it’s wet.” Tomas picked up a brush and added it to the cart. “You should get one of these, too. It’s an angle brush for the corners and edges.”

Talia pursed her lips. “There’s more to painting than I thought.”

“It’s not hard, but you have to know what you’re doing. Now you have all the right tools.”

She took stock of the items in the cart and then picked up a roller from one of the shelves. “I’m sure there’s a technique for using this thing, right?”

“This thing will save you a lot of time.” He snatched it from her hand and she playfully wrinkled her nose at him. “This is what you do. First of all, do not dip the roller in the paint or you’ll get too much paint on one side and it’ll clump on the wall. What you want to do is slowly slide the roller into the paint and use the back of the tray to roll the color along the brush for an even coat. Then, you do this.” In the air, he demonstrated how she should roll the color onto the wall.

“Okay, let me try.” She took the brush. “Like this?” She did a poor job of mimicking the movements.

“Make a W and then fill it in.” He scooted behind her, getting all up on her. Completely unnecessary, but he couldn’t seem help himself. He grasped her wrist, and a charge ricocheted through his blood, shaking him to the core. Her skin was so soft, he thought the contrasting roughness of his hand could bruise her delicate flesh.