Losing Control
Leaning against the garage pylon, Cole crossed his arms and responded to Brandon's statement. "Duly noted."
And dismissed.
This morning, Cole had dropped in to this double-story bayside home to find his friend lavishing time and attention on his pride and joy – a vintage Harley-Davidson. He would have offered to help but Cole knew from old. Brandon didn't let anyone near his bike. That the showroom-quality cruiser ever made it out onto the street was a miracle. Guess everyone had their passions. Their weaknesses.
Cole's thoughts veered to Taryn Quinn and her exuberant expression the day he'd given the go-ahead for her location survey. He'd be a liar not to admit he was looking forward to spending time alone with her. And who knew? What she had organized might surprise him. If he'd planned to be away from the station longer, he'd have asked Roman Lyons to take the reins. But he'd only be gone from work Friday. Three days in all. And two nights. Brandon's conversation brought him back. He wanted out from Cole's request that he investigate Eloise.
"From what you tell me," Brandon said, polishing a handlebar as if it were a shapely female limb, "the guy responsible for the attempts on your father's life has gone to his maker."
"So it would seem."
"A death certificate's pretty final."
"What if this guy was a patsy?"
"It's possible. Has your father's man mentioned anything about inconsistencies with regard to Eloise's loyalties?"
"Not as yet."
"Like I said." In a white tee and faded jeans, Brandon straightened his linebacker shoulders and snapped the polishing rag at the air. "You want her tailed? Big mistake."
"That's my call." Cole wanted Eloise cleared of all suspicion, if only for his own peace of mind. "Tell me what you know so far."
Since their phone call five days ago, Brandon had dug around Eloise Hunter nee Warren's background. Born in Atlanta. Current age, thirty-five. Father a political figure. Mother a close friend of Cole's mom. Busted for soft drugs in high school. No conviction.
Polishing the other handlebar now, Brandon confirmed that Guthrie had met Eloise when she was much younger. They caught up again when he flew out to visit his late wife's remaining relatives some months after her death. The subsequent contact between the two gave "consoling the bereaved" a whole new nauseating meaning.
Cole pushed off the pylon. "Stick with it. And can you look into my father's new housekeeper while you're at it? Nancy Someone-or-other. She's far too creepy to be actually guilty of anything. Still…"
Brandon chuckled. "Not your type?"
Remembering the mustache, Cole shuddered. "Not by any stretch."
Brandon ran a palm over the gleaming crimson fuel tank. "So what is happening with your love life?"
"What love life?"
"That's what I figured."
"I'm busy."
"Remember that sweet thing you dated in our Navy Cadet days? Don't think you've had a steady relationship since."
"A year-long crush on a lieutenant's daughter isn't a steady relationship."
"Dear, sweet Meredith McReedy. She broke your heart."
"Like an egg in a skillet," Cole confirmed with a grin, "and she didn't even know it."
"Selfish female, moving interstate and leaving you behind to pine."
"I got over it. Eventually."
"Wonder if she'll be at the reunion tonight." Brandon glanced up from tossing the cloth in his special blue bike-cleaning bucket. "You're going, right?"
"I received the invitation."
"Don't avoid my question."
Heading down the drive toward his car, Cole lowered the sunglasses perched on his crown onto his nose. "I'm beyond all that."
"Beyond catching up with friends?"
"Everyone's married now. I can do without the questions. When are you settling down? Why haven't you got kids yet? Last reunion, the woman I took along got it into her head I should fall down on one knee and propose."
Brandon's big hands found his jeans' waistband. "I'm sure you can come up with a few more excuses if you really try."
"You're taking someone?"
Brandon was never without a lady on his arm – a little like Dex, only his brother's affairs were usually plastered across the pages of numerous gossip magazines. Brandon was far more discreet.
"I've asked an interesting lady I met a few weeks ago."
"Weeks, did you say?" Cole's lips twitched as he opened the driver's side door. "Must be serious."
"Don't panic. No starry eyes on either side. We have more of a love/hate thing going on."
"Must be going around."
Leaning a forearm along the window edge, Cole spilled all about the delectable, infuriating Taryn Quinn – how he was attracted to her on a number of levels despite the fact that he'd soon need to terminate her contract.
Cole ended, "Then I'll be the one needing a bodyguard."
Brandon's eyebrows hitched. "Fiery, huh?"
"On occasion."
"Sounds interesting. Bring her along."
"She barely tolerates me."
"Oh, and she has brains."
Cole grinned. "As a matter of fact, she does."
"What's her story? Why isn't she attached?"
"That's a question I've asked myself."
Brandon's hands dropped to his sides. "You sound suspicious."
"No. Not anymore. Just curious."
The friends said goodbye. A moment later, hand on the ignition, Cole stopped to wonder. Should he invite Taryn to that reunion? Business issues aside, he did find her intriguing. Certainly she'd doused him in wine and had tried to put him in his place more than once. He'd responded by giving in to her – defending her – in ways that, frankly, astounded him.
Worried him.
Grunting, he kicked over the engine and shifted the gears into Reverse.
He didn't need more trouble. No way would he invite her to that reunion tonight. If the idea ever crossed his mind again, he'd make an appointment to have his head examined.
* * *
Taryn peered down at her cell's caller ID and froze.
She'd survived a whole five days at Hunter Broadcasting. Why was Cole calling her on a Saturday? Unless it was to tell her that the location survey scheduled for next weekend was off…that he'd only been teasing and of course he had no plans to consider her show.
She simply wouldn't pick up.
"Is that your phone ringing, sweetheart?" a voice called out from the kitchen.
Sitting on her modest home's back landing step, Taryn answered her aunt, who had dropped in as she did from time to time.
"Don't worry, Vi. I've got it."
She glared at the buzzing cell for a drawn-out moment and Vi's voice came again.
"Is something wrong?"
She didn't know. Didn't want to know. Then again, she'd go crazy waiting until Monday if she didn't find out.
Taryn braced herself. Stabbed the green key.
Cole Hunter's deep voice echoed down the line. "Sorry to disturb you out of work hours."
Taryn quivered at the same time she shrank into herself. She wanted to say, "Get it over with." Instead she said, "That's okay. I'm not doing anything special."
"It's Saturday."
She frowned. Waited. "Uh-huh."
A few seconds passed, long enough for Taryn to study the phone to make sure they were still connected.
"Thing is," Cole finally said, "I wondered if you were doing anything a bit later."
Slanting her head, Taryn cast a glance around the garden. I'll probably still be sitting here trying to coax a frightened pregnant cat in for shelter before she gives birth.
"No," she said. "Not especially. Did you want to go over my notes for the survey? I have a ton, although I want to keep the location a secret from you until the end."
She wanted Cole to absorb the undiluted impact when they arrived, which would hopefully inspire as well as challenge him.
When he said, "It's not about the survey," a sick withering feeling dropped through her center. Her mouth went slack. This was it. The "don't come back Monday" call. The end.
"You might remember that I mentioned many years ago I was a Navy Cadet. There's a reunion on tonight. I wondered if you might consider coming along."
She listened harder. There had to be more because this didn't make sense. A reunion? Had she missed something?
"Taryn? You there?"
"I'm not certain I understand."
"I'm inviting you out. Tonight. With me."
He meant on a date? Now she was really confused.
"If you're busy," he said, "of course I understand."
"I'm not busy."
"So you'll come?"
That voice from the kitchen again. "Any luck out there? Or is she still hiding?"
Her aunt was talking about the pregnant stray. No joy there. But maybe her luck was changing on another front. Taryn knew Cole was attracted to her, but she couldn't get her head around the idea of this suggestion to mix business with pleasure. Still, if he was in need of a date tonight, could she really refuse? She'd been taken aback when Cole had stopped her earlier this week and, in front of witnesses no less, had told her to go ahead and arrange the survey. And that he'd be going, too.
If he was willing to give an inch or two, shouldn't she reciprocate? She'd already vowed to be accommodating, no matter what. The upside was that she could always use the time tonight to bend his ear more about her show.
When she thought about it that way, she'd be mad to decline.
"What time and where?" she asked.
She heard his intake of air. Relief or disbelief?
"It's black tie. I'll collect you at – "
"No, I'll meet you." She'd find her own way there as well as back. She might want to take advantage of this opportunity, but she didn't need to dwell all night on how they would say good-night. A shake of hands in the car? A brush of lips against her cheek at the door?
Awkward.
Cole gave an address and a time. Taryn had ended the call and slumped back against the landing when her aunt appeared with a fresh bowl of cat biscuits. Vi studied her.
"You look like someone just handed you a million dollars."
"Even better. That was my boss."
"Guthrie Hunter. You told me about him. Nice man." Vi set the biscuits down. "Smart man."
"No. His son. Cole."
"Calling you on a weekend? Has something come up at the studio?"
Taryn had worked long enough in television for her aunt to know the lingo, the oftentimes crazy hours.
"It wasn't about work. Or not directly. He kind of, well, asked me out. A black-tie event tonight."
"And you said yes?" When Taryn nodded, Vi grinned from ear to ear. "You haven't gone out and enjoyed yourself in such a long time."
"It's not like that. I don't actually like him. Cole Hunter is arrogant. Ruthless…"
But her aunt was busy checking the ornate silver wristwatch she'd owned for decades. "If you want to get your hair done, it's already after eleven. Do you have something to wear?"
"A gown I bought for last year's awards ceremonies."
Full length. Sequined. Very Hollywood. Taryn cringed. Hopefully it wouldn't be over-the-top.
She caught her aunt smiling again and pursed her lips.
"Don't get all excited. Tonight isn't like that, okay? Even if I did want to settle down in a relationship – " and she didn't " – Cole's not that type." Not my type.
"How do you know?"
"Spend five minutes with the guy."
He had little time for anything other than work and bossing people around. She was amazed he had any personal life.
A noise filtered over from the garden…bushes rustling then a flash of yellow fur. That cat poked its whiskers out between some leaves but, in a heartbeat, vanished again. Taryn thumped a floorboard. She'd been trying to lure that poor cat out for weeks. She looked so mangy Taryn knew she must be without a home. And yet she resisted.
"Maybe she's happier that way," Taryn murmured, thinking aloud. "Maybe she's happier on her own."
Vi patted her niece's shoulder. "Don't give up. Everyone wants companionship. Someone to care for them. Even the most unlikely types."