Nothing but Trouble Page 4

  “What?” Pattie asked.

  Tallie waved and spoke to several people they passed on the path to the rest room. “Wonder why Donna Fields referred to me as Peyton’s ‘little Tallie’?” she repeated.

  “I think it just slipped out before she thought about what she was saying. Peyton didn’t seem to approve, did he?”

  “Peyton Rand would like nothing better than to see the last of me.” Tallie pushed open the door marked Women, then held it for Pattie. “Stay, Solomon.”

  “Peyton talks about you all the time, you know.” Pattie waited in line with Tallie.

  “Yeah, I’ll bet he does. He probably tells you what a holy terror I am and how he’s always having to get me out of trouble.”

  “I think Spence and I know almost everything about Tallulah Bankhead Bishop. From the time you were a kid following your big brothers around, to your recent arrest for shooting a man with birdshot. You’re Peyton’s favorite subject, and the strange thing is, he’s not even aware of it.”

  “Don’t you get sick and tired of hearing about me?”

  “The question is don’t you think Donna Fields would be sick and tired of hearing about you after three months?”

  “What makes you think he talks to her about me?” Tallie asked.

  “I’d bet my last dime he does.” Pattie smiled at Tallie. “If Donna thought she and Peyton had a future together, she’d have every right to be terribly jealous of you, and she isn’t. Didn’t you notice?”

  Just as Tallie started to reply, two women emerged from the stalls, leaving them free for Tallie and Pattie. By the time they came back out and washed their hands, the bathroom had cleared and they were its only occupants.

  “She’s not in love with Peyt, is she?” Tallie dried her hands on brown paper towels.

  “Donna told me that she thinks Peyton is a wonderful man and she enjoys his company.” Punching the air dryer, Pattie rubbed her hands together. “But no, I don’t think she’s in love with him. She’s a widow, you know, and I believe she has some unresolved feelings for her dead husband.”

  “Do you think Peyt’s in love with her?”

  “No.”

  “Then why...I mean...well...”

  “Why have they become an item?” Smiling, Pattie sighed. “Peyton is thirty-six and considering running for governor, so it’s only natural that he’d think about needing a wife. He hasn’t realized yet that although he and Donna are good friends, they’d be terrible as lovers.”

  “Then Peyt and Donna aren’t...I mean...”

  “Donna Fields is not your competition, Tallie.”

  “What do you mean? If I’ve given you the impression that I’m interested in Peyton, in that way, then—”

  “There’s no need for you to lie to me,” Pattie said, opening the rest-room door.

  Following Pattie outside, Tallie signaled to Solomon. “I guess I’ve wanted Peyt since I was sixteen and realized I was in love with him. But I’m the worst woman in the world for him. He’s told me himself that all I am to him is trouble.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” Pattie walked beside Tallie and Solomon as they made their way back toward the ball fields. “Considering what Peyton’s told me about you, I admit that you might prove a liability to a politician. On the other hand, you’re a champion of some very popular causes, and people seem to like you.”

  “I can’t believe this conversation.” Stopping abruptly, Tallie turned to the other woman. “I dreaded meeting Donna because I knew she’d be everything that I’m not, that she’d be perfect for Peyt and that I’d hate her because she’d be such a haughty, nose-in-the-air snob. But I like her, and now you’re telling me that she isn’t my competition, that she and Peyt aren’t lovers, that—”

  “I’m trying to convince you that you’re the right woman for Peyton Rand?”

  “Hush, Pattie, don’t say that out loud.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it isn’t true. After meeting Donna tonight, I know she really is perfect for a man like Peyt and I most definitely am not.”

  “There’s only one problem. Peyton and Donna are not in love. She may be perfect for a man like Peyton, but not for Peyton.”

  “Peyt and I are like oil and water, you know.” Tallie caught sight of Eric Miller’s hulking frame moving toward her at a rather rapid pace for an overweight man who was weaving around like a toddler just learning to walk. “Oh, no,” Tallie groaned.

  “What’s wrong?” Pattie asked just as Eric staggered up between them, his big body accidently shoving into Tallie, unbalancing her momentarily.

  “Hey there, sexy gal. You interested in going out to my truck with me for a little drink?” Eric swayed toward Tallie, his breath reeking of alcohol.

  “I think you’ve had one too many little drinks,” Tallie told him.

  Slipping his arm around Tallie’s waist, Eric pulled her up against him. “I don’t know why you keep saying no. It ain’t like you’ve done got a man.”

  Struggling against his powerful hold, Tallie glared up at Eric. “Let me go, you damned fool. Don’t you know Solomon would rip your throat out if I gave the order.”

  As if on cue, Solomon snarled, baring his sharp teeth. The hairs on his back bristled.

  “I ain’t scared of no damned dog. I could probably break his neck.”

  “Tallie, I’ll go get Peyton and Spence,” Pattie said, walking away hurriedly.

  “No, don’t,” Tallie called, but Pattie didn’t respond. “Eric Miller, you’re a menace to society.”

  “You ain’t gonna sic that dog of yours on me, and we both know it.” Eric squeezed Tallie so fiercely, she cried out. “If you’re gonna be mine, sexy gal, you’d better learn to like it rough.”

  Tallie counted to ten. He held her so tightly, she could barely breathe. If only she could manage to loosen his hold on her, she could aim her knee at his groin. He was right, she didn’t want to sic Solomon on him, but if she couldn’t free herself, she might have no other choice.

  “Look, you overgrown baboon, if you don’t let me go, I will sic Solomon on you!”

  Eric lowered his face downward until his nose touched Tallie’s. “Give me a little taste of what I want.”

  That was it. She’d had all she was going to take. Just as she opened her mouth to give Solomon an attack order, she felt Eric’s hold on her loosen. Glancing behind Eric, she saw Peyton Rand, his big hand gripping Eric’s shoulder.

  “Let the lady go.” Peyton’s voice held a cold, deadly edge.

  Eric lumbered around, glaring at Peyton as he jerked himself out of the other man’s hold. “Who the hell are— Oh, yeah, you’re that fancy-pants lawyer Tallie’s so hung up on, ain’t you?”

  “I’m the man who’s telling you that if you ever lay a hand on Tallie again, you might not live long enough to regret it.”

  Eric chuckled, the sound loud and filled with nervous bravado. “Are you threatening me?” Eric puffed out his chest, his big gut only inches away from Peyton’s firm midsection.

  “I’m stating a fact. Leave Tallie alone or, if I can’t put you behind bars, I’ll handle you personally.”

  “Yeah, you and what army?”

  Tallie stood there staring at Peyton as if she’d never seen the man before in her life. What was he doing? Did he even realize the implication of what he was saying? It wouldn’t look good if the papers picked up this story: Potential Gubernatorial Candidate Threatens Man’s Life Over Woman.

  “You didn’t have to come running over here to protect me,” Tallie said, planting her hands on her hips. “I was about to sic Solomon on him.”

  “Stay out of this, Tallie,” Peyton told her.

  “Stay out of this?” Tallie noticed Spence coming up behind his brother, followed by Pattie and Donna Fields.

  “Need any help, Peyt?” Spence asked.

  “I think I can handle this,” Peyton said. “What do you think, Miller?”

  “I think I ain’t fool enough to
take on two men.” Eric turned, his heavy-lidded eyes resting on Tallie. “Next time, I’ll wait for a more private spot to sweet-talk you.”

  When Peyton reached for Miller, Tallie ran between the two men. “Go on, Eric, get out of here!”

  “Ain’t that sweet. You’re worried I’ll bloody up pretty boy’s face,” Miller said.

  “No, I’m afraid Peyt will knock your brains out and get arrested for murder.” Tallie grabbed Peyton’s clenched fist. “Let him go.”

  With a grin on his fleshy, blotched face, Miller walked off, swaying slightly as he made his way toward the parking lot.

  Grabbing Tallie by the arm, Peyton pulled her down the walkway, away from the small crowd of onlookers, including Donna, Spence and Pattie. Following along peacefully, Solomon sniffed the air.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Tallie jerked away from him just as they rounded the corner of the concession stand.

  Peyton moved toward her, his gaze riveted to her face. He shoved her up against the back wall of the concession stand and splayed his hands out on each side of her head as he glared down at her. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you?” His voice shook. His hands trembled.

  “That wasn’t my fault,” Tallie said. “Besides, I didn’t ask for your help. It was Pattie’s idea to tell you what was happening. Solomon and I had everything under control.” She peered around Peyton to where her dog sat a few feet away, sniffing the trash cans. “Just as soon as the trial is over, I’ll never ask for your help again.”

  “Is that right? Are you going to be able to stay out of trouble with three men in this county ready to do you bodily harm? Cliff Nolan wouldn’t hesitate to beat the hell out of you, that goon Miller seems the type quite capable of rape and there’s not a doubt that Lobo Smothers would kill you or anyone else who gets in his way.”

  “I’ve got a gun. I’ve got a dog. I’ll take care of myself. It’s not like anything is actually going to happen to me, you know.”

  “Are you stupid, woman? Dammit, you are. Nolan, Miller and Smothers are all dangerous men. You need a keeper. Your brothers knew that when they asked me to watch out for you.”

  “I do not need a keeper!”

  Gripping her shoulders tightly, Peyton gave her a sound shake. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead and upper lip. He wanted to break her in half. He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. He wanted to turn her over his knee and spank her until she promised to behave herself. But more than anything, he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss the breath out of her. The very thought of anything happening to Tallie scared the hell out of him.

  “Promise me that you won’t go near Cliff Nolan’s family or get yourself involved in any scheme to try to catch Lobo Smothers. And if Eric Miller comes near you again, call Lowell Redman immediately.”

  It took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to throw herself into Peyton’s arms and ask him to hold her. She could sense the anger inside him, but she sensed something else, too. He was afraid for her, genuinely afraid.

  “I will be on my best behavior from now until the trial. I promise.” She couldn’t bear to think she might be the cause of any negative publicity for Peyton. After all, the very fact that he was representing her at her trial would probably make the newspapers, at least locally. She didn’t want to do anything else that might create problems for him if he did decide to run for governor.

  Peyton eased his hold on her shoulders. He should release her immediately, but damn, he couldn’t let her go. Not yet. Touching Tallie was a mistake. He knew better. Just the feel of her tense little shoulders beneath his big hands aroused him. His mind had told him over and over again how wrong he and Tallie were for each other. Unfortunately, his body had ideas of its own. But he couldn’t allow his lust for her to overrule his common sense. She was ten years too young for him. Her brothers were his friends. He didn’t dare let her know how he felt or she’d jump to all the wrong conclusions. No sir, he wasn’t about to take advantage of Tallie when all he wanted from her was sexual release.

  “Try to stay out of trouble, will you, for both our sakes?” Stepping away from Tallie, Peyton dropped his hands to his sides. His stomach tightened into knots when he looked at her. Those big, pale brown eyes, that full, pouty mouth, that stubborn little chin. Damn, why couldn’t he feel this way when he looked at Donna?

  “I never mean to cause trouble for you, Peyt.”

  “I know, Tallie. I know.”

  “I guess you’d better get back to your date and let Spence and Pattie watch the rest of the ball game,” Tallie said.

  “I suppose you’re right.” Turning around, Peyton hesitated before walking away from her.

  “Oh, Peyt.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “I like Donna. She’s a very nice lady. She’s just perfect for you.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. She is perfect for me,” Peyton said. She’s everything I could want in a wife. There’s only one problem. She doesn’t turn me inside out the way you do, little heathen.

  Tallie watched Peyton walk away, back to where Donna stood by the bleachers waiting for him. He was where he belonged—with a woman he could be proud of, a woman his intellectual and social equal, a woman who could help his political career, not rip it to shreds.

  Three

  Sprawled out in the fat, navy-blue leather chair, Peyton sat alone in his Jackson apartment, a glass of Scotch in one hand, a half-smoked cigar in the other. He’d taken Donna home forty-five minutes earlier, after making a total fool of himself by coming on to her. She’d gently but forcefully told him that they were not going to have sex. He supposed he should be grateful to her for having more sense about the matter than he did, but damned if he could, considering his state of arousal. It had been quite some time since he’d been with a woman. In the past, his casual relationships with women had afforded him protected and uncomplicated sex. Donna was a different matter. She’d told him in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t about to play stand-in for another woman. When he’d told her there was no other woman, she’d laughed in his face.

  Donna was a smart lady. Too damned smart. She’d figured out right away that his interest in Tallie Bishop was a lot more than big brother protector. Of course, he had denied that wanting Tallie and knowing he couldn’t have her kept him in a state of sexual frustration most of the time.

  During the past ten years, he’d been able to keep his desire for Tallie under control, first by telling himself she was just a kid, and then by making sure he always had a willing bed partner in his life. But things had changed in the last few years. Tallie wasn’t a kid any longer, and his bed partners had, by his own choice, become few and far between.

  The problem was that he wanted Tallie, but he didn’t dare allow himself to love her. Although she’d make most any man a good wife, Peyton couldn’t see Tallie as first lady of the state. She wasn’t the kind of woman who’d make a good political partner. No, Tallulah Bankhead Bishop might be the sweetest, prettiest, most desirable woman he’d ever known, but she wasn’t suited to the kind of life-style he’d chosen for himself.

  And he was as ill suited to Tallie’s life-style as she was to his. He could never be the kind of man she needed. He was far too set in his ways, far too entrenched in his family’s traditions to break free. He was not the rebel his younger brother had always been. No, Peyton Marshall Rand played the game by the world’s rules. He was an expert at unemotional combat. He knew what it took to win and was willing to pay the price. That’s why he never lost.

  Controlled by her emotions, Tallie Bishop lived by her heart’s desires, always championing the underdog, always trying to right all of life’s wrongs. Never considering the outcome, she jumped into situations with both feet.

  If Tallie hadn’t once fancied herself in love with him, he might have already thrown caution to the wind and bedded her. But he couldn’t take the chance that she’d really fall in love with him and he’d wind
up breaking her heart. Tallie deserved better than a brief affair—an affair he could use to work her out of his system.

  Peyton lifted the snifter to his lips, sipping the aged Scotch, savoring the smoky flavor of the heady whiskey. Images of Tallie filled his mind. Curly black hair tousled by the wind. Pale, milk-chocolate eyes staring at him with such unabashed longing. Soft, pink lips, moist and tempting, whispering his name. Small, sure hands caressing his body.

  He swallowed the remainder of the Scotch in one large gulp, then coughed on the strangling strength of the liquor.

  Damn! He had to stop thinking about Tallie. There had to be some way to get her out of his mind. If only Donna...no, that wouldn’t work. And it wouldn’t be fair to Donna or to himself.

  Of all the women on earth, why did Tallie have to be the only one who could elicit such strong feelings in him? She made him angry, she made him laugh—she made him horny as hell. Every time he saw her, he wanted her. Every time he touched her, it was all he could do to stop himself from dragging her off to the nearest bed. Tallie brought out every possessive, protective instinct in him. And to make matters worse, he knew she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

  But, God in heaven, they would be disastrous for each other. They’d make each other miserable. Somewhere out there, the fates were laughing themselves silly. Peyton Rand and Tallie Bishop were totally wrong for each other. The only problem was that their bodies didn’t realize the fact.

  * * *

  Tallie tossed and turned in her bed. She had a splitting headache that half a dozen aspirin couldn’t cure. What had caused the problem? Stress? Tension? Worry about the upcoming trial? Peyton Rand?

  Tallie threw back the cotton floral sheet onto the muted navy-blue and rust-red plaid coverlet folded at the foot of her antique metal bed. Moonlight streamed through the open windows. A cool, late-night breeze swayed the long floral curtains that matched the dust ruffle on the bed.

  Solomon, who lay on a hand-hooked rug near the door, raised his head, looked at Tallie, then readjusted his relaxed position. Sheba, the mixed-breed cat Tallie had adopted from the Humane Shelter, slept curled atop the old leather-and-wood steamer trunk at the foot of the bed.