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Funny how he never seemed to notice how neglected his surroundings were until his mother came to visit. Which, thankfully, was only on rare occasions.
“Have a seat,” he told her, rounding his desk and easing himself down onto his chair.
She eyed the couch distastefully. “I don’t mind standing, thank you.”
“Suit yourself.” He snatched up a pen from the desktop, squeezing it between his thumb and index finger. “Erin had a headache this morning,” he explained. “She came to work with me and took a nap in my office. She woke up feeling better, so she was helping me out in the shop.”
“Well, when she woke up feeling better,” his mother stated, “you should have taken her to school.”
“Ma—” Dylan’s shoulder sagged with the effort of this justification, but he was so used to this kind of interrogation that he barely noticed. “It’s after two o’clock. She’d have been in school an hour.” Then a thought occurred to him. “How did you know Erin wasn’t in school today?”
Helen Minster’s lips pursed for an instant. Then she said, “If you must know, I asked the school secretary to call me if Erin was absent.”
Patience, Dylan reminded himself. He asked softly, “Why would you do a thing like that?”
“Dylan, this is a new school year. Erin must start off on the right foot.” She shifted the position of the purse handle that hung on her forearm. “I don’t know why you won’t allow me to send the child to boarding school. I sent you to boarding school.” She paused, as if she had second thoughts about the statement, eyeing him pointedly.
And just look what you did with the education I provided for you.
His mother’s accusation couldn’t have been clearer if she’d said it out loud.
Then she added, “As well as your brother and sister.”
“Public school is fine for Erin, Ma,” he told her. “All Erin’s friends attend the school here in Pine Meadow. She’d be miserable if she had to go to a new school. She’s getting a fine education right where she is.”
He didn’t want his daughter feeling as lonely and out of place as he had felt as a youngster being shipped off to boarding school. He hated every moment he’d been away from Pine Meadow and his friends and family. However, he’d bent to his mother’s will because as a child he’d had no other choice. Until high school, anyway, when he’d discovered that a threatened expulsion due to fistfighting with his classmates was the perfect way to force her to let him attend school in his hometown.
“Yes,” his mother said, “and she’s getting that education along with every piece of riffraff Pine Meadow has to offer.”
“You know my views on that subject,” Dylan said wearily. “Erin’s going to be dealing with all kinds of people as an adult. Black, white, yellow, brown, rich and poor. It’ll do her good to learn to get along with everyone while she’s a kid.”
“Humph, maybe.” Helen Minster was obviously unconvinced. Then her eyes lit with a new attack. “But boarding school would get her away from this place. And it’s this grease pit I most want to get her away from. She should be taking piano lessons, or ballet lessons. She should be reading Black Beauty and Little Women. That child should be wearing lacy dresses and patent leather shoes.”
She stopped suddenly, hesitating long enough to take a deep breath, get herself under control
“Dylan, that child is soon going to be ten years old. She’s a young lady now. She shouldn’t be tinkering underneath the hood of a car, her hands filthy with grease. This...this mechanic shop—” she said the two words as if they were knives that stabbed her “—isn’t any place for a young lady. It isn’t right that you’re allowing Erin to follow you around like some oily little monkey whose only goal in life is to hand her daddy a screwdriver or a socket wrench.”
Up until now, he’d been resting his chin on his fist. But the moment his mother had called his daughter a greasy primate, he’d had to clamp his fingers over his mouth, his thumb planted firmly under his jaw to keep from growling at her to get the hell out of his office, out of his shop.
She’s only trying to help, he chanted in his head. She only wants what’s best for her granddaughter.
He looked out the window that separated his office from the three work bays that made up the shop. Erin had her head stuck under the hood of the car parked in the first bay. The bill of her baseball cap was twisted to the back of her head. Her elbows and knees were nut brown with grime, her denim shorts and cotton top smeared and grubby as well. His heart hitched in his chest. That little girl was his whole life. His whole world.
“That child needs some feminine influence,” Helen said. “And if she doesn’t get it soon, it’s going to be too late. You mark my words.”
Too late for what? Dylan was too preoccupied to ask. He was too busy wondering if his mother might be right. Was he doing Erin a great disservice by allowing her to spend time at the shop? Should he be chauffeuring her around to piano lessons and ballet recitals rather than teaching her how to change an engine’s spark plugs and fuel filter?
“I think you ought to let Erin move in with me,” Helen said.
His knee-jerk reaction was to say, “No way.” But the response fell on deaf ears.
“I can teach her to be a proper young lady,” his mother argued. “You do want her to grow up into a woman who can hold her head up in this town, don’t you? You do want her to be proud of who she is? Do you think that’s going to happen when she spends most of her life—” she looked around again, disdain evident in every muscle of her face “—hanging around Dylan’s Auto Repair?”
Usually he wasn’t at all fazed by the disgust his mother showed when she spoke the name of his business. Usually he allowed her disappointment in him to roll off him like water off a rain slicker. Usually. But today it struck him—like a forceful, unexpected poky in the gut with a tire iron.
“You think about it,” his mother said. “And when you do, I want you to consider long and hard what’s best for Erin. Not what’s best for you.”
She opened the door of his office then, and carefully picked her way through the dirty clutter of car parts toward the big open door of the garage bay, taking care not to allow the hem of her yellow dress to become soiled. Helen Minster called a curt goodbye to her granddaughter and then disappeared from his view.
Almost immediately, Erin was standing in the threshold of his office. “You okay, Dad?”
He nodded. “Sure, hon,” he told her. “Give me a few minutes, okay?”
She smiled and then went back to fiddling with the Caddy’s engine.
Dylan sat at his desk for a long time, studying her. Tendrils of wavy red hair escaped from under the cap on her head. Concentration creased her brow as she searched in the large metal box for some tool or other.
The love he felt for that little girl out there was so great it actually made his chest ache. And he found it more than a little worrisome to think that letting her hang out here at the shop with him might be harming her in some way.
Okay, he thought, so we have a problem. His daughter’s femininity needed a little...fine-tuning. Hell, he told himself, tell the truth, Erin’s feminine side needed a complete overhaul!
As much as he hated to admit it, his mother was probably right. Erin should be reading great works of literature. She should be involved in culturally enriching activities. And there couldn’t possibly be a less likely place for a little girl to find polish and refinement than an auto repair shop.
He stroked his chin over and over between his index finger and thumb as his mind churned. Boarding school was out of the question in his mind. But was the solution packing Erin off to live in Minster House with his mother?
“Over my dead body,” he whispered too low for anyone but himself to hear.
Pine Meadow certainly hadn’t changed much in the ten years she’d been away, Tess mused as she drove through town. Certainly, the strip mall on the main thoroughfare was new, or at least new to her, as the shops had looked well established when she’d passed by them. But the First Methodist Church looked the same as ever. As did the supermarket on the corner of Main and North Streets. And the fact that the billboard hovering over the double doors of the Main Street Theater advertised Hollywood’s hottest movie let her know the cinema was still doing a booming business. Tess had spent many a Saturday afternoon in the cool, dark recesses of that movie house while her father was busy at his shop. And then as a teen, her theater visits changed to Saturday nights. When she’d sneaked out on dates with Dylan Minster.
His name whispered across her mind, across her thoughts, sending shivers skittering across her skin.
Lord, how she had loved him. And the things she’d learned from him...
Tenderness. Commitment. Affection. Passion.
The closeness and devotion they had shared together rivaled even that between Shakespeare’s infamous Romeo and Juliet.
Tess smiled. The childishly fanciful manner in which she thought of her relationship with Dylan was inevitable, entirely natural, she guessed, seeing as how she’d been so young when they’d been a couple. Her smile faded, though, because along with tender passion, he’d taught her other things as well.
Pain. And guilt. And anger.
The awful names he’d called her had the flush of humiliation rushing to her face even after all this time. It was so sad that the three wonderful years they spent together were marred forever by the one hostile, accusation-filled fight they’d had. The fight that had her finally agreeing to leave Pine Meadow with her father. The hateful words Dylan had used as weapons to assault her had been a devastating turning point in her life. Without them, without hearing Dylan’s opinion of her face-to-face, she’d have never left New Jersey with her father. She’d have never run away from the young man who had captured her heart so completely. No matter the threats from his well-respected and wealthy family. No matter the consequences.
Braking for a red light, she forced herself to rise from the foggy haze of her memories. She’d automatically switched on her left turn signal, and as she waited for the light to change, she realized she was staring at the red brick building that had always been the home of Minster Savings and Loan.
Fear welled up inside her seemingly out of nowhere. A fear so pure, so unadulterated, it had her heart pounding, her blood whooshing in her eardrums. It mattered not one whit that the panic threatening to drown her was irrational. The fact that Helen Minster, or the rest of the Minster clan, could no longer hurt her was too logical a thought; besides, it was buried under about a dump truck load of frantic insanity that had perspiration prickling her underarms and her brain screaming at her to get the hell out of this town, get the hell away from the prejudice of the judgmental Minsters. Such thinking caused nothing but heartache, humiliation and hurt for people like herself.
She’d worked so hard not to obsess about the account book she’d found among her father’s possessions. But now questions and conclusions swam in her head until she thought she’d surely drown in them.
Had her father accepted some kind of payoff from Helen Minster? There really was no other explanation that Tess could come up with. Had they really been paid to leave Pine Meadow? She shook her head, thinking the only possible answer to that was yes. And all this time Tess had been under the impression she and her father had left town of their own free will, with their chins held high, their pride intact. But it seemed their exodus had been under a whole different set of circumstances entirely. But if what she surmised was true, why hadn’t her father used that money when the two of them had been in such need of it over the years? The interest had accrued on that account, and not one dime had ever been withdrawn. That didn’t seem to make sense, and it was that part of the situation that had her curious for answers. It was that part of the situation that had compelled Tess to take a leave of absence from her new practice and travel to Pine Meadow.
She had to admit, there was one question that haunted her more than any other. Had Dylan been aware of the payoff?
A horn blared behind her and she stomped her foot on the gas pedal, desperate to get away from the bank and all the mocking questions it conjured. Her tires screeched a complaint as she took the turn much too quickly. Another turn had her heading toward Pine Meadow’s east end. The “Bowers,” as the area had been known years ago. The wrong side of the tracks. The bad part of town. Her part of town.
She slowed the car and gulped in several deep breaths in an effort to calm her troubled mind. Being back in her neck of the woods, seeing her old haunts, somehow comforted her. And she focused all her attention on them, the narrow streets and close-packed businesses soothing her frazzled nerves.
Home. The businesses in the Bowers had been mostly small, family-owned enterprises that struggled from month to month to remain open. These people had known no other way of life. Had no other means to eke out a living. And from the looks of things, that hadn’t changed.
She turned down Cox Avenue and slowed down when she came to the building her father used to rent as his shoe repair shop. The main floor of the small building housed a coffee shop now. And seeing the frilly, faded yellow curtains hanging in the two upstairs windows, she surmised that someone lived in the tiny one bedroom apartment where she had been raised.
Heaving a forlorn sigh, she continued driving down the street. She’d played hopscotch on this sidewalk as a little girl. Jumped rope with her friends. Tess wrapped herself in the warm blanketlike memory of the love and security she’d felt as a child. Looking both ways at the four-way stop, that’s when she saw it.
Dylan’s Auto Repair.
The small, metal placard advertising Body Work dangled from below the Auto Repair sign, as if it had been added on. A second thought.
Could it be...?
“No,” came her verbal reply. Dylan Minster’s favorite hobby might have been working on cars, but he’d made it abundantly clear that he was going into his family’s banking business. Abundantly clear. Besides, a Minster would never be caught dead opening a business in the Bowers.
Still, her eyes remained glued to that sign. It seemed to call out to her. Relentless. Enticing. Like a glass of cool water to someone dying of thirst.
“Hey, there!”
Tess’s gaze whipped around to see an elderly lady standing on the corner.
“You lost?” she asked.
“Oh, no,” Tess told her. “I grew up around here. Lived overtop the coffee shop a couple of blocks back. My dad had a shoe repair shop there.”
“Well, now.” The woman smiled. “I don’t remember the shop being anything other than a coffeehouse. But I’ve only lived here seven years. Ever since I had to move in with my daughter and her husband.” Her smile widened. “Welcome home.”
“Thanks.” Tess’s tone was vague as her eyes were inexorably drawn back to the auto repair shop. Then she found herself saying, “Things haven’t changed too much.” She paused. “But I see there are a few new businesses in the Bowers...”
The hesitation had been purposeful. Tess hoped the woman would reveal some information regarding the garage across the street.
The woman chuckled. “The city council has tried every way possible to get people to stop calling this place the Bowers. They started a campaign a few years back. Wanted us to call this part of town East Meadows. That fell flat. People use what they know, I guess. And this place will always be the Bowers, won’t it?”
“I guess,” Tess said, her gaze never leaving the building she’d hoped to learn more about.
Finally the woman seemed to perceive her interest. “You know Dylan Minster?”
After several moments Tess was able to get her tongue to work. “I did. Once. A long time ago.” The curt sentences sounded rusty to her own ears.
“That Dylan fought his family, the city council and a whole army of other people when he wanted to open his garage over here.”
By over here, Tess knew she meant in this less reputable part of town.
Movement caught her eye, and then she saw him. He stood in the large open doorway of the first bay, directing as someone backed a large car out of the garage. Tess felt every nerve ending in her body come alive, alert.
Dylan Minster. In the flesh. She’d know the set of those wide, muscular shoulders anywhere, recognize the tilt of that chin. That was the man who had stolen her heart. The man who had taught her what love between two people was all about. However, he was also the man who had crushed her spirit, hurt her like no one else ever had. The man who had fathered her stillborn baby girl. Her gaze never wavered from his fine form as her mind churned with all these bits from the past.
“You know,” the woman said to her, “seeing as how you knew Dylan and all, and seeing as how you’re in the neighborhood, you ought to stop in over there and say hello.”
Tess’s voice actually quivered as she answered, “I think I’ll do that.”
Chapter Two
The broad expanse of his chest made the navy, run of-the-mill uniform shirt look not quite so run-of-the-mill. The rolled-up sleeves revealed powerful, tanned hands and forearms, the open collar, a corded neck that invited a woman’s lips to explore.
Tess started with a tiny twitch, her eyes widening. Where had that thought come from?
From the deepest depths of your memory, came a silent answer. That most sensuous of places that Dylan had awakened when you were just seventeen.
Well, she decided, such thoughts would simply have to go straight back to wherever they came from, and she’d have to shut the door on them. Lock the door on them. And toss away the key.
After checking the street traffic one more time, she inched across the intersection and then steered toward the asphalt parking lot of the garage.
She stopped the car, its engine idling softly. “Are you out of your mind?” she whispered to herself. “What are you doing?” Did she really believe Dylan would want to see her after all this time? After all the mean words they had hurled at each other?
But that seemed like a lifetime ago. They were both adults now, weren’t they?
She cringed at the question, remembering how very grown-up she’d thought she’d been at seventeen. Seventeen and pregnant.
Again, she brushed her memories of the past aside, turning the key to cut the engine. There were questions that needed answers. She really didn’t care one way or the other if Dylan would want to see her. He was going to see her.
Tess got out of her car, but it was the sound of her car door closing that had him looking her way. He called out for the driver of the big, white Cadillac to stop, and the car halted with a slight jerk.
His dark head tilted the tiniest bit and those deep green eyes of his narrowed, a frown creasing his brow.
She stopped about ten feet from him. A buffer zone of sorts.
“Hello, Dylan,” she said, reaching up and pulling off her sunglasses.
His gaze widened with recognition when she spoke, almost as though he’d known who she was, but refused to believe it until she actually addressed him. A dozen wild gypsies stomped out a boisterous jig on her nerves as she awaited his response.
Ho-ly hell! Tess. Tess Galloway. How she’d changed!
The teenage girl who had knocked him out of his high-top basketball sneakers all those years ago had been rail-thin, the sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks irresistible to him then.
Apparently the coltish Tess had grown up. Her girlish figure had filled out with the kind of womanly curves that fueled a man’s dreams when he was asleep and vulnerable. And not a single freckle could be found on her pale-as-moonlight complexion. Her manicured nails told him she’d broken the childish proclivity of nibbling on them when she was worried. Remembering how she’d lamented, again and again, what she’d thought was an unbreakable habit, he nearly smiled. Nearly. But he successfully reined it in.
But one thing about her hadn’t changed. Her eyes. Brown as rich, dark chocolate, and just as luscious.
That gaze alone was enough to have his libido churning down low in his gut. But put together the whole package, the angelic face, the bewitching curves, and no man was safe against a gnawing hunger that had nothing to do with food. The grown-up Tess Galloway would tweak the sexual appetite of any man.
Reaching into his back pocket with as much nonchalance as he could muster, he pulled out an oily old rag. He wiped at the grease on his forearm and said, “Well, well, well.”
