Where There's Smoke

He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t indicate in any way that he had even heard her or noticed the interruption.

Subconsciously Lara had been preparing herself for this clash, so she wasn’t that surprised at his angry appearance. Since it seemed inevitable that they have a showdown, she decided just to get it over with.

She glanced at the nurse. “No, thank you, Nancy. Try to keep the patients pacified until I can get to them.” Then, looking up into Key’s enraged face, she added, “I’ll try to keep Mr. Tackett’s unreasonable temper under control.”

Nancy obviously had misgivings about Lara’s decision, but she left them alone. Lara gestured toward a chair. “Please sit down, Mr. Tackett. You’re ashen.”

“I’m fine.”

“Hardly. You’re swaying.”

“I said I’m fine,” he repeated testily, raising his voice again.

“All right, have it your way. But I don’t think either of us wants repeated what we say to each other. Will you kindly keep your voice lowered?”

Leaning on his crutches, he bent forward until his face was within inches of hers. “You don’t want what we say repeated because you’re afraid that the few people who don’t already know will find out that your husband caught you butt naked in the sack with my brother.”

She had heard the accusation many times before, and there seemed to be no antidote for its vicious sting. Time hadn’t diminished its effect.

Turning her back to him, she moved to the window, which offered a view of the gravel parking lot. One of the patients who’d been waiting in the reception area was getting into her car. She couldn’t have looked more sheepish if she were leaving an adult bookstore with a brown paper bag full of dirty magazines. Her retreating car raised a cloud of dust.

Watching her had given Lara time to form a response. “I’m trying very hard to put the incident with your brother behind me and get on with my life.”

She turned to face him again and felt much more comfortable with space between them, although, even from a distance, his presence was potent. He still hadn’t shaved and he looked more disreputable than he had the night before. Most disquieting was the raw sexuality he emanated. She sensed it. Keenly. Doing so seemed to give credence to his low opinion of her, and that bothered her tremendously.

Lowering her gaze, she said, “Don’t I deserve a second chance, Mr. Tackett? It happened a long time ago.”

“I know how long it’s been. Five years. Everybody in the nation knows exactly when it happened, because the morning you were caught in bed with my brother marked the beginning of the end for him. His life was never the same.”

“Neither was mine!”

“I guess not,” he snorted sarcastically. “Not after you became the nation’s most celebrated femme fatale.”

“I didn’t want to be.”

“You should have thought of that before you sneaked into Clark’s bedroom. Jesus,” he said, shaking his head in bafflement. “Didn’t you have any better sense than to commit adultery while your husband was sleeping in the room down the hall?”

Learning to conceal her emotions had become a matter of survival. At the height of the scandal, she had developed a means of stiffly setting the features of her face so they would reveal nothing of what she was thinking or feeling. She resorted to the technique now. To keep her voice from betraying her, she said nothing.

“Some of the details are a little hazy,” he said. “Clear them up for me.”

“I don’t choose to discuss it with you. Besides, I’ve got patients.”

“I’m a patient, remember?” He propped his crutches against the edge of her desk and, using it for support, hopped on his left foot toward her. “Give me your full treatment.”

The innuendo wasn’t accidental. His wicked grin reinforced it. Lara didn’t respond, at least not visibly.

“Come on, Doc. Fill in the blanks. Clark had hosted a dinner party the night before, right?”

Lara remained stubbornly silent.

“I’ve got all day,” he warned softly. “Not a damn thing to do but stay off my ankle. I can do that someplace else, or I can do it right here. Makes no difference to me.”

Calling the sheriff and having him physically removed was a possibility, but he’d already told her that Sheriff Baxter was an old family friend. Involving him would only create more of an incident than this already was. What was the point of prolonging the situation except to save face? That had been sacrificed years ago. Since, she’d become a pro at swallowing pride.

“C

lark had invited a group of people out from Washington to spend an evening in the country,” she told him. “Randall and I were among those guests.”