The Man She'll Marry

And Ty could tell it was a lie. The way he looked at her said so. The fact that he didn’t challenge it or remark on it let her know that honesty wasn’t a reasonable expectation where she was concerned.

Ty leaned back in his chair and slid a hand into his jeans pocket. He held up the keys he pulled out.

“The silver Cadillac at this end of the garage,” he said, then tossed her the keys. Tracy caught them, amazed she’d been able to do it.

Ty’s eyes sharpened on her again. “Good. You’ve got decent reflexes and coordination. People on the roads will be safe.”

That’s when she understood that tossing her the keys had been a test rather than a careless demonstration of disrespect.

“Park it in a good spot where it won’t get hit,” he went on. “Put the keys under the seat, lock them in, then call and leave a message where to pick it up.”

Which meant that he didn’t want to see her again, didn’t care to speak to her personally, hence the precise instructions. Because he meant to drive home the notion that he couldn’t stand her, that she was dirt under his boots.

Her soft, “Thank you,” was brittle. His vivid gaze held hers ruthlessly and she couldn’t seem to look away. He was searching deep, and probably seeing too much. It was a cinch he didn’t detect anything of value.

Tracy turned and walked away with as much outward dignity as she could summon. It was faked, of course. Just like almost everything she showed the world.

She let herself out the front door of the big ranch house, then winced. The noon sun was brutally bright. And hot. Hot enough to make her stomach pitch and the world go blurry. Her knees felt rubbery by the time she walked to the big garage and let herself in the side door. The dimness inside relieved only a little of the pain in her head.

Once inside the Cadillac, she adjusted the seat then couldn’t get the key in the ignition. Frustration made her fumbling worse. She was a wreck. Was she in any condition to drive back to town?

The alternative—that she’d have to face Ty again and seek his help—made her struggle to steady her hand and match the key to the ignition. This time, she succeeded. The big engine purred to life and she gave a relieved sigh. She could do this.

Tracy found the garage door remote on the visor and pressed the button. The big door motored open and she pushed the visor up.

But the visor dropped back down. The remote clipped to it fell into her lap. Tracy dutifully picked it up and clipped it on the visor before she turned to look over her shoulder to back the big car out of the garage. The sudden movement made her dizzy, but she ignored the feeling. The car rolled only a yard or so before the visor again tipped down and the remote again fell into her lap.

She should have left the remote where it fell or tossed it to the dash. Instead, she clipped it to the visor, pushed the visor up, then turned dizzily to continue slowly backing the car.

It moved only a couple of feet before she sensed the visor begin to tip down. Still turned to watch where she was going, she threw up her hand to keep it in place. Impatience made her hit the visor with more force than she’d intended.

And she must have triggered the button on the remote because the big door started down, though Tracy didn’t realize that until she saw the bottom edge of the door lower into sight.

Everything went weirdly wrong then. Still turned to back out, Tracy pressed down on the brake. At the same time, she felt for the remote on the visor and pressed the button, thinking the door would reverse and go up.

But the door didn’t stop. Alarmed, Tracy shoved down on the brake, but her foot slipped off the edge and the heel strap of her shoe caught. She jerked her shoe free and jabbed desperately for the brake.

She was too dizzy and uncoordinated to locate the brake pedal, but panic helped her manage it. Or so she thought. She’d expected to stop the car, so it was a shock when the big vehicle lurched backward. The massive door scraped heavily onto the trunk as it pressed relentlessly downward. The squawk of metal heightened her hysteria as the door scraped deeper along the trunk then hit the back glass of the car.

Car and door strained against each other, defying her effort to stop the nightmare as she made a last jab for the brake pedal. Suddenly the big car engine roared and the garage door popped out of its tracks.

In that next split second, Tracy realized she’d been pressing the accelerator. Horrified, she turned to face the windshield, pulled her foot off the gas and made a new try for the brake. The loud crash of the big door collapsing on the car roof was as loud as an explosion.

And then came the silence, that awful silence as the car idled peacefully and Tracy fought to understand what had happened. The wild staccato that pounded her ears was the sound of a heart gone crazy with terror.

Park it where it won’t get hit.

Ty’s grim instruction came back to her like a klaxon alarm of imminent doom.

CHAPTER TWO

THE hard rocking of the big car penetrated her shock. Dazed, Tracy turned her head to see a blur of blue outside the window.

Ty was yanking powerfully on the handle to open the jammed car door. Another half-dozen pulls and it gave. The door squealed open. Ty surged toward her and Tracy shrank back. Alarmed, she reflexively threw up her arm to protect herself. The back of her hand hit Ty’s jaw, but the brutal strike she’d hysterically imagined coming her way didn’t happen.

It took a second to register that Ty had been grabbing for the ignition to switch off the idling car. In the sudden silence of the engine, Tracy’s horrified gaze met his furious one in the close confines.

She saw the instant he understood her protective move and took offense. Now the furious blue of his eyes went livid and a dark flush deepened his tan. His voice was gritty with control.

“I’ve never struck a woman in my life, Tracy, however tempting it might be.”

Tracy shivered at his low tone. And then she noticed the nick on his jaw and watched in fresh horror as blood welled into the small wound. Her ring had done that, she realized, sickened. Oh God!

The quick snap of the seat belt release was her only warning before she found herself hauled out of the car and deposited on her feet out of the way. Her legs felt too weak when Ty released her. She swayed, in danger of falling to the concrete floor before she braced her hand against the wall behind her.

Tracy watched Ty’s grim inspection of the disaster and prayed to die, but God ignored this fervent petition just as steadfastly as He’d ignored those other times she’d prayed it. She cringed at the low, rumbling sound of Ty’s voice as he muttered a series of swear words.

Tracy couldn’t fault him for his fury. His beautiful silver Cadillac was ruined. The big door had scraped heavily the length of the trunk and smashed the back glass before the door had slipped the track and collapsed full-length on the car, pushing down the roof. The hood was dented almost as ruinously as the trunk. The windshield hadn’t shattered, but the glass was a mass of cracks.

“I’ll b-buy you a new car,” she croaked rawly, but Ty continued to circle the car as if he hadn’t heard a word. “I’m s-so sorry…”

And still he didn’t hear. The air around him seemed to thunder with muted violence.

Tracy was profoundly sick. Bad temper had always terrified her. She’d been bullied and manipulated by it all her life. She thought she’d escaped it forever when she’d escaped her mother, but watching Ty now, hearing his low swear words, seeing the evidence of his barely controlled anger, brought back the debilitating fear.

She’d rarely deserved her mother’s tantrums. She’d been a good child, an obedient and submissive daughter, pitifully eager to please. But this wasn’t her hateful, volatile mother. This was Ty Cameron, and this time, Tracy deserved to be the focus of someone’s fury.

The guilt that had strangled the color and energy and hope from her life was twisting her insides with fresh vengeance. Ty had overcome his natural revulsion to help her last night and take her to safety. However much he despised her, he’d rescued her and given her the loan of his car.

Then she’d repaid him by wrecking it and demolishing his garage door before she’d driven the vehicle much more than a dozen feet. She couldn’t seem to stop the disastrous course her life was on, and now it looked as if anyone who became involved with her, however casually, would get sucked into her downward spiral.

Despair made her eyes burn. God, she couldn’t cry! Ty would surely accuse her of using tears to get sympathy and avoid being held responsible for her mistake. Her mother was an expert at that and Tracy would die before she’d allow anyone to think she’d do the same.

“So what is it, Tracy?” Ty said then as he glanced across the wreck at her. “Withdrawal from a drug habit or DT’s from alcoholism?”

The shocking question conveyed the notion that only an addict or a drunk could have fouled up so completely. That was when Tracy realized she was still shaking wildly. She knew she looked ill and had for weeks. And she couldn’t entirely blame Ty for his suspicion. After all, she was secretly terrified she was becoming a drunk.

Since she couldn’t truthfully deny a part of his question, she didn’t answer, though she took advantage of his attention.

“I—I’m so sorry. I’m not sure how—” She cut herself off and tried to steady the tremor in her soft voice as she fought to withstand the laser sharpness of his gaze. “I’ll pay for all the damage—I’ll even buy you another car. I’ll send a contractor to replace the door, and I’ll pay you any amount you set for the trouble and inconvenience this ca-auses.”

Ty was as angry with himself as he was with Tracy. All he could think about was that he’d handed his keys and his car to someone incapable of safely operating a motor vehicle. Innocent people could have been seriously injured or killed, and he would have been just as responsible as the woman he’d put behind the wheel.

Ty studied the “woman” who looked as frail and vulnerable as a child. Tracy was shaking, and gray shadows hung heavily beneath huge eyes that were red-rimmed but dry. He saw her mortification and dismay.

And shame. The impression was there again. That and the persistent sense that Tracy was lost.

She’d gotten herself into a colossal mess. First by getting drunk with a rich lowlife like Parker last night, now with this. He’d made some calls this morning and asked around about her. Life wasn’t going too well for Tracy LeDeux, however much money she had.