Nate skidded to a stop behind the small sedan that was parked in the driveway and hopped out of the Navigator before the machine had fully registered the shift from Drive to Park. It was still shuddering when he took the steps leading to the wraparound front porch two at a time and rang the doorbell.
Thirty seconds later and no response, he rang the doorbell again. Then again. Still no response. Cursing under his breath, he tried the doorknob. His eyebrows shot up in surprise when it turned easily and the door swung open.
The first floor was clear, he discovered after checking out each room. Other than stacks of already packed boxes and flattened boxes waiting to be packed scattered everywhere, there was no sign of Tressie. He was wondering if she had gone out somewhere when he heard sounds of movement above his head. Exactly what the source of those sounds was didn’t register with him until he was already on the second floor and approaching the first door to his left—the door to the hall bathroom.
The shower.
It was going full blast and she was singing along with the water’s spray. No, that wasn’t quite right. Actually she was singing—horribly—over and above the water’s spray. The sound of her voice scraped across his nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard, spiking his irritation level into orbit. Without stopping to think about what he was doing, he barged into the steamy bathroom and snatched the shower curtain back.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he bellowed.
Chapter 2
She turned just as a blast of cool air slammed into her skin, and then visions of warriors rushing in for battle flashed before her eyes—big, strapping men with bulging muscles, bloodthirsty expressions on their faces, and mighty swords slicing through the air. She saw herself being impaled to death and then buried in a shallow grave deep in the woods, where no one would ever find her. She saw, as plain as day, the likelihood that no one would even bother to look for her because the sad fact was that she wasn’t the most popular person in the world and she had no real friends to speak of. Every questionable deed that she’d ever done played before her eyes like a movie. Her killer would go unpunished and her death would be in vain. The public would probably celebrate once her true identity was revealed. They would—
Oh, God. She was going to die.
Partially blinded by soap bubbles and completely on the verge of hysteria, Tressie opened her mouth and did the only thing she could think to do under the circumstances. She screamed at the top of her lungs.
It seemed like an eternity, but it really took only a few seconds to wipe the soap bubbles from her eyes and focus. When she did, the first thing she saw through the steam was a pair of gorgeous hazel eyes staring into hers. Expanding her gaze to a wide-screen view, she took in a pair of perfectly shaped lips and a dimpled chin, thick eyebrows and smooth pecan-brown skin. Something in her brain eventually clicked and she recognized Nate Woodberry, but that didn’t stop her from continuing to scream like a banshee. The only difference was that this time the sounds she made were intelligible. “What the hell,” she shrieked frantically as she snatched the shower curtain from his grasp and wrapped it around her body, “are you doing in here?”
“I rang the bell. You didn’t answer.” He was the epitome of calm.
“So you just walk right on in and make yourself at home?” She slung her wet hair back and out of her face and shut off the water. “Idiot! Hand me a towel from over there, would you?” She snatched the towel he handed her and only released her death grip on the shower curtain long enough to make the trade. The fact that he had undoubtedly seen more of her naked body in the past thirty seconds than her doctor had in years burned her skin to a cherry-red crisp, especially since he hadn’t so much as given it a second glance in all that time. So much for cutting back on sweets and working out like a demon.
“Well?” they said in unison.
“Well, what?” they said in harmony again.
And then again in unison, “What are you doing here?”
“You first,” Tressie said, securing the knot in her towel and stepping out of the old-fashioned claw-foot tub.
“No, sugar, you first.” Nate folded his arms across his chest and stared her down. “You were told to stay the hell away from Mercy, Georgia, but yet here you are. Why is that, Vanessa Valentino?”
She resisted the urge to wince at the menacing way he said her trade name. Of the handful of people who knew that she was the pen behind the persona, unfortunately he had always been the least complimentary about it. “I’m sorry. Did I miss the memo that named you the king of my comings and goings?” She folded her arms underneath her breasts and looked at him from head to toe, then rolled her eyes. “Just because you had a bug up your ass about a story I was writing five years ago doesn’t mean you can order me around for the rest of my life. News flash, Nate. It was a long time ago. The rest of the world has moved on. You should, too.”
“What, you think I’ve spent the last five years checking for you?”
“Well, you are standing in my bathroom right now, aren’t you?” She looked up at him thoughtfully. “Tell me something, Nate. How did you even know that I was here? Which one of your little minions do you have keeping track of my every movement?”
He caught his mouth before it could drop open. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Says the man who’s hunted me down like a fugitive for the second time in less than a decade.”
“You are a fugitive.”
Now it was her turn to catch her mouth before it could drop open. “Excuse me?”
“That’s what you do, right? Hide behind a fake name and a fake persona so you don’t have to face the consequences of destroying people’s lives with the stroke of a pen? That’s you, right? A hack, so-called journalist, with nothing better to do than dig around in people’s private lives, because you have no life of your own? A coward who throws stones and then hides her hands? If the public knew who you really were, you’d never get another night’s sleep.”
Almost word for word, he was spouting the same speech now that he had given her five years ago, except that he wasn’t shouting the roof off this time. She didn’t know which was worse—enraged and volatile Nate, or the calm, almost reasonable-sounding Nate standing in front of her now. Either way, she wasn’t in the mood for a replay of five years ago, especially since she hadn’t exactly come out on top in the aftermath. Every time she thought about the way she had allowed him to bully her into dropping the story of a lifetime—and she had thought about it a lot over the years—she wanted to kick herself. If she had held her ground back then she would’ve been a wealthy woman right now. More than wealthy, she thought sourly. Probably rich. And none of the chaos that was currently going on in her life would be happening.
Was she pissed at the way things had turned out? Hell, yes.
Had she stood there five years ago like a deer caught in headlights and allowed Nate to insult her nonstop? Yes, she had.
That was then and this was now. He had won back then, and there was nothing she could do about that now. She wasn’t about to let him terrorize her again. She had too much riding on this visit to Mercy and, thankfully, it had nothing to do with him.
But just to be on the safe side, she took a full