Have Gown, Need Groom (17 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Anger rippled through Jake. To think he’d thought she was an innocent. Had
hoped
she was innocent. But the files in his hands confirmed the cover-up, so Hannah had to have been helping Wiley. At least protecting him. God, what was he going to do?

He didn’t want her to be implicated at all. Didn’t want her to have to be questioned, to know he’d ever mistrusted her. Because he cared about her.

Maybe even loved her.

What a mess.

“What lies? What are you talking about?” All evidence of the emotions she’d shared with him the night before vanished. Still, his whisker burns marred her neck and face, reminding him that he’d been in her bed only hours before, touching her, wanting her, needing her.

He still wanted her, dammit. But Jake Tippins wouldn’t allow himself to
need
anyone.

“Why are you looking through my stuff?” she whispered.

“I thought you said you didn’t help your father?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. There went those fingers again. Tap, tap, tap along her arms. “I don’t.”

He arched a brow, his temper rising as he shoved the files toward her. “Don’t lie, Hannah. I have the proof right here.”

“Proof? Proof of what?” She hugged her arms around her middle, looking lost and small. He steeled himself against her act, knowing good and well he’d fallen for the same performance before.

“Proof that your father is running a car-theft ring. And you’re an accessory.”

She staggered backwards, her eyes wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He waved the file for emphasis. “It’s all here. Doctored numbers. Notes on Buffy. Sure, some of the deals are in code, but the evidence is there. What were you doing, trying to protect your father?” He ran a hand through his hair, furious and hurt at the same time.

“You’re crazy!” Hannah shouted. “I don’t know anything about any stolen cars. And I’d never heard of Buffy until I saw that file.”

His gaze swung back to her and he saw fury. But something else—hurt, confusion. And her fingers were perfectly still this time, sinking into her arms.

She ran a shaky hand over her face as if to wipe away his touch. “I do look over my dad’s records sometimes, but only because he’s dyslexic and too embarrassed to tell his bookkeeper.”

Jake narrowed his eyes, studying her. “Wiley’s dyslexic?”

“Yes, but no one knows. He reverses his numbers so I check them before he gives them to Erma Jean.”

“What about DeLito? Does he know your father’s dyslexic?”

“I don’t know. He could have figured it out, I suppose.”

“And so could the bookkeeper.” He slapped his hand on the desk. The bookkeeper could have been helping DeLito all along, not Hannah. “Joey is involved in the car ring,” he said matter-of-factly. “He has a prior record, Hannah, an alias. I saw the warehouse where he’s been storing the stolen vehicles. And if what you’re saying is true, I suspect Erma Jean has been helping him.”

“
If
what I’m saying is true?” She sliced her hand through the air angrily. “My father may be a lot of things, Jake Tippins. He may be flamboyant and a little showy in his commercials, but he is not a crook. Besides, if Joey was a thief, how would you know? Did you see him doing something at the dealership?”

“He’s involved. I just need to know if your dad or Mimi are in on the deal.”

“Mimi a party to a crime? My God, she’s as innocent as they come….” Her voice trailed off as if realization was dawning. He saw the moment she put two and two together. She staggered backward, her knees hitting that gold chest at the foot of her bed.

“You’re not a car salesman, are you?”

He saw the anger rising in her blue eyes and shook his head.

“And that day you caught that thief, you…” She backed around the chest, almost falling onto the bed. But her eyes darkened when she saw the rumpled covers, his jeans lying on the foot of the bed. A look of pure horror darkened her eyes as if she was sickened by the thought of returning to the place they’d warmed with their bodies only hours earlier. Helpless, he watched her stumble toward the chaise on shaky legs, then sink against the pillow, hugging herself. “You’re some kind of cop, aren’t you?”

He cleared his throat, striving for calm. “A detective. I’ve been working undercover trying to stop this theft ring. It’s major and it’s been spreading, right along with your dad’s businesses. That’s too big a coincidence to ignore.”

Her face paled. “My father asked me to check the books this week. He said he thought something was fishy, that maybe Joey had been messing with the numbers.” Her hands clenched the side of the chaise, her knuckles white.

“So Joey and Erma conspired without Wiley knowing?”

“My father is not a crook, he’s a wonderful man, a good father, a…” Her voice broke, clogged with tears. “You have to believe me, Jake.”

A sharp pain tightened his chest. He did believe her, although trust had never come easily to him. Still, he had to ask, “Why should I believe you, Hannah? You lied to me before.”

“About the files?”

He nodded.

“But I explained that.”

“What about Thanksgiving morning? You said you were at the hospital all morning, but you weren’t. You were at home.”

“How do you know?” Her eyes widened again, stark shock setting in. “You spied on me?”

“I—I just drove by.”

“
You’re
lying now, Jake,” she said, her voice growing stronger. “I wondered why someone like you would be interested in me—”

“What do you mean, someone like me?” he asked angrily.

She ignored his anger. “You were watching me, using me to find out about Wiley, weren’t you?”

He let the silence be his answer. Guilt warred with the truth, all jumbled together in his head. “I was just doing my job.”

“And you use anyone you have to to get the job done, right? Including my family?”

He nodded curtly, hating the anguish settling in her face. “I’m sorry, doc.”

Her gaze darted to the bed, her voice low, “You…you could have simply asked. You didn’t have to sleep with me to get information.”

He had to defend his actions. “Maybe I wouldn’t have been suspicious if you hadn’t lied.”

“My dad is innocent,” Hannah said, her chin rising a notch. Still, she bit down on her lip, a gesture he’d learned to recognize, as unshed tears glistened in her eyes. “I lied because I tried all morning to make those stupid homemade rolls and I kept messing them up. I felt like a failure.”

He frowned, searching her face. “Why would you lie about something so insignificant as rolls?”

She stood and folded her arms across her chest, her voice a soft whisper. Her voice took on a self-deprecating tone, “Because I can’t cook.”

“But Wiley said—”

“Wiley likes to exaggerate. We grew up on Mimi’s Easy Bake oven recipes.”

Jake gritted his teeth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because…I hate to admit failure. I wanted to impress you.” Hannah’s voice broke. “Which proves that I
am
guilty of one thing—being a fool.”

With a sweep of her hand, she indicated the door. “Now, I want you to get out of here, Jake Tippins. And I don’t want you ever to come back.”

H
E HAD SCREWED UP
big time.

Jake drove toward the warehouse to meet his partner, his heart pumping, his mind a mess. He’d tried to locate Wiley first, knowing Hannah might try to warn him about the investigation, but he couldn’t find the man. Hopefully, Hannah couldn’t either. The devastated look on her face when she’d realized his identity, that he had used her, would be imprinted on his brain forever.

She hated him.

And he didn’t blame her.

He’d be a bigger fool than he’d already been if he continued to doubt her innocence. Jesus, she’d been helping Wiley because he was dyslexic. She’d tried to impress him by making homemade rolls, something his own mother hadn’t ever bothered to do. She’d given him a damn rose and made him a homemade Christmas star out of art paper and glitter. She’d even signed the freaking thing.

Worse, she had given him a part of herself, her virginity, and if he didn’t know better, a little bit of her heart. And what had he done? Thrown it in her face by treating her like a criminal. Deep in his heart, he had known that Hannah took care of everyone else. And now, too late, he realized he wanted to take care of her. Shoulder some of her responsibilities and burdens so she could relax and smile—that heart-stopping, dazzling smile that drove him crazy.

Guilt, deeper and colder than anything he’d ever felt, settled in his stomach like a rock. People like Hannah Hartwell didn’t lie.

Hell, he hadn’t believed they even existed.

He had to tie this case up today and get the hell out of Sugar Hill. Even if Hannah would forgive him, which he doubted because even good people couldn’t forgive such deceit, he wasn’t a man who deserved her. She deserved fine things and fancy trips and a man who’d know how to romance her in style. Not some broken-down cop who was as scarred on the inside as he was on the outside.

She deserved someone like her old boyfriend.

Pain cut through him, sharp and relentless, but he pushed it away. The dirt road leading to the warehouse loomed in front of him, gloomy and run-down, flanked by scraggly overgrown weeds and bushes. Snowflakes had begun to fall, a flurry of white that fogged his vision. He steered his SUV down the graveled road, adrenaline starting to churn in his veins as the minutes ticked by, signaling the end of the investigation. And his time in Sugar Hill.

By this time tomorrow, he’d be out of the Hartwell family’s life for good.

Chapter Nineteen

The hope chest had started it all, the death of her happy, stable future, Hannah thought miserably as she climbed from the shower and wrapped herself in her big terry cloth robe. She’d furiously scrubbed her body and hair, wanting to wash away the memories, but even the thirty-minute shower hadn’t completely cleansed Jake’s scent from her skin. The man had deceived her, taken her virginity and stolen her heart. Darn him.

She should never have paid any attention to that stupid legend.

And she should never have let Jake touch her.

She stared at the rumpled sheets, remembering every touch, the way she’d come apart in his arms, his husky whispers, and suddenly she felt ill. Furious, she jerked off the sheets and threw them into a pile in the floor. But would she ever rid herself of the image of him in her bed?

Her gaze fell on the lighted curio cabinet and she laughed, a sarcastic bitter noise that didn’t sound as if it came from her own throat. She’d actually started dreaming about all that silly, childish stuff again—comparing herself to Sleeping Beauty. How could she have not seen the signs? No wonder he’d been such a clumsy salesman; tackled that thief like a pro; asked all those questions on Thanksgiving. God, he must have laughed himself silly when she’d given him that sappy homemade Christmas star.

What a naive idiot she’d been.

The tears she’d fought since Jake had walked out spilled over and she finally let them fall.

Angry with herself, she raced to the curio cabinet, yanking out the dolls one by one and placing them in a box. She’d take them to the hospital, let the nurses wrap them up as gifts for the sick children. Maybe they would make some of the little girls as happy as they had her—once upon a time.

Now they only reminded her of her own foolishness.

She paced across the floor, her movements jerky. She should have stuck by her convictions, played it safe, done her job and taken care of her sisters.

Mimi.

Good grief, what would poor Mimi do if Joey wound up in jail? The newspaper would cover it all, another Hartwell happening. She could see the headline—The Legacy of the Hartwell Clan Continues.

A sigh of despair escaped her and she ran to the closet and dragged out some clothes. She didn’t have time to nurse her own broken heart. She had to talk to Mimi and warn her father before Jake showed up and threw them all in jail. Of course, he probably expected her to try to warn her father. She had to hurry. Wiley might be an oddball, but he was her oddball dad, and he’d done everything in the world to take care of her. It was her turn to stand up for him.

But what about Mimi? She had been acting so strangely lately, worried about Joey two-timing her and all. What if she fell apart?

Time was of the essence here—she couldn’t let either of them find out about Jake’s investigation before she had a chance to talk to them. She phoned Alison, hoping she’d sit with Mimi while Hannah went to see her father, but no one answered. She left a hurried message, gripping the phone in a panic. Who else could she call?

Seth. He’d been a good friend for years. He had treated Mimi like a little sister when they were dating. He’d know what to do. He should have returned from the conference last night. And he was the most levelheaded person she’d ever known. He’d never done a wild, impulsive thing in his life. Unlike gullible her. She only hoped he didn’t despise her too much to help her with Mimi. Quickly punching in his number, she waited, her heart pounding. He answered on the third ring, his voice groggy.

“Seth, it’s me, Hannah.”

“Hannah?” He cleared his throat. “What is it?”

“I…something’s come up. I wondered if you’d meet me at Mimi’s.”

“What’s wrong?”

Hannah explained briefly about the investigation, for-going any details about her bedroom rendezvous with Jake. “You know how impetuous Mimi is, Seth. You can never tell what she’ll do when she finds out he’s a crook. And I—I didn’t know who else to call.”

“She is pretty unpredictable,” Seth agreed.

“Then you don’t mind? I mean, after what I did to you?” Hannah’s voice broke, tears spilling over.

“Shh, Hannah, I don’t mind. You know I think of Mimi and Alison as little sisters.” He sounded so sincere. “I’ll meet you there. And Hannah?”

“Yeah?”

“After we see Mimi, I’d like for us to sit down and talk. Okay?”

“Sure.” Hannah’s mind raced ahead to her father. “I’ll see you in about an hour. I want to go by Dad’s car lot first.”

“All right. Be careful.”

Hannah hung up and hurriedly dressed, grateful her dependable Volvo had power as she drove like a maniac to rescue her father. She couldn’t bear to see the man who had raised her and loved her unconditionally hauled away in handcuffs by the man she loved.

No, she quickly amended—by the man she had
thought
she loved.

“T
HEY HAD
a first-rate operation going here, didn’t they?” Muldoon said.

Jake grimaced, glad the warehouse held the evidence they needed. “Yep. Everything from paint to phony license plates right under our noses.”

“You did a good job, Tippins.” His partner slapped him on the back. “In spite of your injury.”

Jake glared at his partner’s smirk, his stomach still balled in a knot, Hannah’s face flashing into his mind.

“I’m sure fingerprints will place DeLito here, and his contact, Buffy Ford.”

“That has to be an alias,” Jake said, referring to the woman’s name.

“One of about twenty. The woman changes names and addresses as often as she does hair color. One reason it’s been so hard to nail her. But we have a good lead and I’ve put out an APB on her.”

Jake watched as the team from the crime lab began to sweep the warehouse, dusting for prints, taking samples, doing all the monotonous details that would help them make the case stick in court. “Did you find out anything on Hartwell?”

“Not a thing. The locals say he checks out clean.”

Jake nodded, deciding he’d use the direct approach with Wiley. He was tired as hell of lying.

The hair on the back of his neck pricked and an uneasy feeling slid into his gut. Jesus, while he was standing here tying things up, Hannah was most likely on her way to Wiley’s. What if Wiley were innocent and DeLito showed up and…

He took off running to his car.

“Where are you going?”

“To Wiley’s.”

His partner issued an order to the crime lab team, then jogged after him. “I’m right behind you.”

“H
ANNAH, HON
, what are you doing here so early?” Wiley poured a cup of coffee, his normal cheerful self.

Hannah’s heart squeezed. Why hadn’t she appreciated her father more? He’d always been there for her. The day she’d ridden her first bike and crashed and skinned her knee. The day the boys at school told her she couldn’t be a doctor and she’d slugged one of them in the mouth. The day her mother had walked out. Even the day she’d canceled her wedding.

He’d loved her and supported her without question. Tears burned her eyes, shame burned her throat. “Dad, I…”

“What is it, baby?” The look of affection brimming in his eyes tore at her.

“I love you, Daddy.”

He paused, his hand shaking as he set his coffee cup on the white counter. “I love you, too, hon.”

“I know.” Hannah suddenly swayed forward and collapsed into his arms. He embraced her, pulling her into the safety of his hug as if she were a child.

He gently stroked her back, the same way he’d done when she was little. “I do love you, honey. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

She pulled back and gazed up at him, remembering all the times he’d reached out for her and she’d pushed him away. Why had she been so stubborn?

Because she had been afraid of loving, of being left again. It hurt too much.

He jerked a bright orange handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing at her tears. “Has your old man done something to embarrass you again?”

Hannah nearly choked at the understanding she saw dawning in his eyes. “No, Dad, you…you don’t embarrass me.”

His right eyebrow lifted slightly as he folded his handkerchief and stuffed it back in his pocket.

Hannah smiled, the bitterness of her mother’s parting words fading as she realized the depth of her father’s wisdom and love. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way.”

“And I never meant to make you or your mother ashamed of me,” he mumbled in a low voice. “I’m just who I am, honey. That’s all I can be.”

Hannah pressed her hands to her father’s cheeks, looking into his eyes, hoping he could see the sincerity in hers. “I’m not ashamed of you, Dad, not now. Not ever. You’re the best father a girl could ever want.”

Moisture pooled in his brown eyes, his chin quivering. “Honey, do you know how much I’ve wanted you to hug me? To hear you say that?”

They both laughed then, soft at first, then a little more relaxed.

“Now tell me what brought this on. You’re my tough one, so I know something is seriously wrong. Has some guy hurt you?”

He’d hit closer to home than she’d have guessed. But she wouldn’t divulge her humiliating experience with Jake to anyone. Her feelings weren’t important right now, only her father’s freedom and reputation mattered. “Dad, that man, Jake Tippins, he’s not who he says he is.”

Her father’s eyebrows drew together. “He’s not? Then who is he?”

“He’s a policeman,” Hannah said. “He’s been working here undercover, investigating an illegal car theft ring located in the south. He claims that the cars have been sold through your car dealerships.”

“I see.” Wiley’s voice grew soft, resigned, making Hannah shiver.

“He says Joey is involved.”

“And he thinks I am, too?”

Hannah nodded, the words too painful to say.

“And what do you think, Hannah?”

“Oh, Dad.” Hannah’s voice broke. “I told him he was wrong, that you couldn’t, that you would never—”

“Well, isn’t this a happy little family reunion?”

Hannah jerked sideways, stunned when Joey walked in, his eyes full of fury, his hand holding a gun.

J
AKE’S HEART
was roaring so loudly he could hear the blood pounding in his ears. Snow flurries still fluttered along the highway, painting the trees and ground with a thin layer of white. So beautiful, exactly like Hannah Hartwell had been in that wedding dress the first time he’d seen her. But she might be in trouble.

He raced into the parking lot and climbed out, scanning the lot to see if Wiley and DeLito were there. Thank God it was too early for Wacky Wiley’s to be open. He spotted Hannah’s Volvo perched in front of the office and his stomach knotted. Jesus, she’d come here to warn her father and might have put herself in danger. Muldoon flew up behind him, easing out of his sedan.

“You think DeLito’s here?”

Jake’s eyes raked the lot. “I don’t know. He has his pick of demo cars to drive and never shows up in the same one twice.” He gestured toward the glass-windowed office.

“I’ll cover you,” Muldoon said.

Jake nodded and inched inside the building, easing the door closed so as not to alert anyone of his presence. Voices drifted from Wiley’s office. Wiley’s. Hannah’s.

DeLito’s.

Damn.

He moved forward, channeling his weight so he barely made a sound on the plush carpet until he hovered near the door. Leaning against the doorjamb, he peered through the crack. His throat closed. DeLito stood in the center of the room with a gun trained on Hannah and Wiley. Fury swept through him, but he held himself in check, trying to formulate a plan.

“Look, Joey, the locals are on to you,” Wiley said in a low voice. “Hell, I figured out what you were doing myself and already spoke with the sheriff.”

“You’re bluffing,” DeLito snarled. “You’ve been too busy making your dumb commercials to know what’s going on.”

“That’s not true,” Hannah said. “Dad suspected something was amiss. He asked me to check your paperwork because he didn’t trust you.”

Terror rippled through Jake. What the hell was Hannah doing, trying to get herself killed?

DeLito’s jaw snapped tight as he pressed the gun to Hannah’s chin. “I think you’d better shut up, Dr. Hartwell.”

Wiley threw a hand up. “Don’t hurt her,” Wiley said. “She’s right, though. I already alerted the sheriff. He’s on his way to question you.”

“No!” Joey’s fingers tightened around the gun handle.

“Look, Joey, leave Hannah out of this. Take me with you,” Wiley said, his voice blustering out. “I’ll be your hostage until you escape. I have clout in the town, people will listen if I tell them to let us through. You can take one of our cars.”

DeLito yanked Hannah in front of him and pressed the gun to her throat. “I’ll take both of you.” His other hand skimmed down Hannah’s side. “I think I’ve been seeing the wrong sister anyway.”

A pained expressed crossed Hannah’s face, disgust in her eyes as Joey’s hands slid down to pat her bottom. Jake saw red. His life spinning in front of him, being blown to smithereens. He couldn’t let DeLito hurt the woman he loved.

Loved?

Did he really love Hannah? Of course he did.

But he didn’t have time to contemplate his revelation. He had to act now.

Slipping away from the crack, he decided to use his advantage—the element of surprise. He gestured to Muldoon that DeLito was inside. Muldoon nodded.

Jake pushed open the door and aimed his gun at DeLito. “Drop it, man. The game’s over.”

The three of them all swung toward him, startled. Wiley jerked Hannah behind him and Jake rushed Joey. They scuffled on the floor. Within seconds, Jake had confiscated DeLito’s gun and had the man pinned to the floor and handcuffed. DeLito’s dark-skinned face paled as he snarled back an expletive.

Jake breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Hannah safely huddled in Wiley’s arms. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, her eyes huge in her pale face.

Wiley gave him a half-hearted relieved smile. “Thank you, son.”

Jake nodded grimly, knowing Wiley wouldn’t thank him when he’d heard the whole story. Especially when he realized he’d slept with his daughter.