The Man She'll Marry

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.

Ty was suddenly certain that if he drove her to town, dropped her at her penthouse and never had another thing to do with her, she’d fall even farther than she already had.

Her softly repeated, “I’m s-sorry. I’ll pay for the damage, buy you a new car, whatever amount you say,” deepened the eerie sense that he was looking at a woman on the precipice of a swift, devastating, and possibly fatal fall. He wasn’t a man who put stock in premonitions, so he couldn’t account for the foreboding he felt. On the other hand, it didn’t take a crystal ball to see that Tracy was in peril.

Why was that any of his business? She meant nothing to him. If she wanted to throw her life away, it was her decision. It wasn’t his place to intervene.

And yet the compulsion was there. His anger surged up another few notches, then went cosmic when she spoke again, more nervous and anxious than ever.

“I’ll pay any amount, Mr. Cameron. Whatever you name, I just want to make it right.”

Her desperation seemed pitiful to him suddenly. Then he thought about her wicked, manipulative mother and wondered if this was an act. If it was, he’d soon know.

He held his silence another white-hot moment until she said, “I’ll pay anything. Whatever you say.”

“You’re damned right you’ll pay,” he growled, hardening his heart as she stared fearfully at him.

Tracy nodded jerkily. “N-name the amount. I don’t care how much.”

Tracy tried to endure the narrow look he gave her then. She struggled for some scrap of courage, but the stillness about him registered on her as the silence before a blowup.

His tough, “You want to make it right, huh?” made her flinch. He hadn’t raised his voice, but her nerves were so ragged that any sound registered like a shout.

She nodded emphatically. “Yes, whatever it takes.”

Ty tipped his head back slightly as if to study her from a more precise angle. “Are you a little rich girl who thinks she can just write out a check and fix things when she’s careless with someone else’s property? And what’s the offer of extra payment for, Tracy? What are you really trying to buy?”

Tracy stared at him and felt her horror deepen. “I’ve a-apologized. Or tried to. I’m really very sorry…” Her voice drifted away as his expression went even harder. “I never dreamed this would happen, but I wasn’t careless. I can’t explain it, it doesn’t make sense. I thought garage doors had that safety feature—” She cut herself off again. Every word she spoke seemed to displease him even more. She was helpless in the face of such unshakable resistance. How he must hate her! “I—I don’t know what to say, what to do, I—”

“I know exactly what you can do to make it right with me,” he said grimly.

It should have been some relief that Ty was about to tell her how she could fix things with him. It should have been a relief that he was about to spell out a specific course of action that would satisfy him and mollify his anger. Maybe even lessen his hatred of her.

But there was something in his voice and in the arctic blue of his gaze that kept her on guard.

“What do you want from me?”

And still he made her wait. Though it couldn’t have been more than a sparse scattering of seconds, it felt like an eternity. When he finally answered, she couldn’t comprehend his words at first.

“You work for me, at hourly wages, until the dollar value of the damage is met. The time it takes you to earn enough hourly wages to cover the damage, will be your personal compensation to me for my trouble and inconvenience.”

Tracy stared at him as she replayed the words in her mind. He couldn’t mean that. He wanted her to work for him at an hourly wage until the damage amount was met?

The terror she felt suddenly was overpowering. How many hours would it take to pay off what had to be thousands of dollars worth of damage? And Ty despised her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he could use every minute of those hundreds of hours to make her life a far deeper hell than it already was. Perhaps doing that to her was what he meant by personal compensation.

Whatever her life had been, whatever it had become, Ty Cameron could finish her off. She couldn’t imagine surviving hour upon hour of his animosity and disapproval. And what kind of job was he offering? She had no particular skills or talents, not that a rancher or businessman would value.

A truly sickening and perverse thought came to her then. The memory of Greg Parker—and what he’d wanted to do to her last night—surged back. Surely Ty couldn’t be thinking…

No, it wasn’t possible. Ty hated her, and surely the loathing he felt for her kept her safe. Besides, he wasn’t the kind of man who’d demand anything sexual of her. The thought had only come into her mind because the old fears were preying on her now. Fears that had been stirred up by the events of last night and the terrible reminder of how vulnerable she’d been to a predator like Greg Parker.

Ty’s humorless quirk of lips reclaimed her attention. “Have you ever had a job, Tracy? Have you ever learned the value of a dollar?”

Have you ever learned the value of a dollar?

The question stung and brought a swell of black emotion. She absolutely had learned the value of a dollar, but not in any way that Ty Cameron would consider decent or honest. It was her deepest, most devastating secret. If Ty ever found out, he’d look down on her even more than he did already.

But maybe there was a chance—just an infinitesimal chance—that she could make up for one awful thing she’d done. Maybe she could make up for the damage to his car and his garage. If she agreed to work for him and could do a good enough job, maybe he would think a little more highly of her than he did now. Maybe she could redeem herself in his eyes, at least for this one thing.

She didn’t let herself think too hard about why it was so important that Ty Cameron stop hating her.

It was a novel idea, this chance to pay for something she’d done wrong with time and hard work. She almost fell for it before common sense squelched the fantasy. Ty Cameron’s standards would be impossibly high, probably on purpose. The only thing that was certain was that she’d never be able to meet them, though she’d probably break her heart trying. And when she couldn’t please him, he’d break it for her with his scorn and contempt.

That was why she had to refuse. Far better to suffer his scorn now than risk her heart on a hopeless cause that was doomed to fail because Ty Cameron would plan for it to. She tried to sound firm.

“Notify me when you have a dollar amount.”

He came right back with, “Does that mean you agree to work for me?”

Tracy could tell nothing from his harsh expression. Cowardice made it hard to speak. It would be so much easier to put him off until she was safely locked at home in San Antonio. She could call him later with her answer. If he reacted badly, she could hang up before he said anything too devastating. Then she could hire a lawyer to intercede for her and persuade Ty to accept her check.

Tracy’s gaze faltered as the silence stretched. Terror made her voice small as she struggled for candor. She began to shake again as she dared to make an effort to explain her reason before she officially turned him down.

“What kind of fool would I be to work for a man who can barely stand the sight of me? Whatever you think I am, I haven’t quite sunk to the level of asking to be abused.”

A bitter slant came to his hard mouth. Tracy could tell she’d offended him. Again. He retaliated, his voice low and quiet, his words painfully on target.

“Sure. Why ask to be abused when you do such a good job of abusing yourself?”

Her heart thudded heavily with the weight of that. Ty nodded toward the Suburban parked in the next space of the four-car garage.

“I’ll drive you to San Antonio.”

It was that simple. The ordeal was over. Tracy walked shakily to the other vehicle, got in the passenger side, then sat rigidly as Ty got in and started the engine.

The ride to San Antonio was smotheringly silent. By the time they got there, every muscle in her body had knotted painfully with tension.

Ty pulled to the curb in front of her building and she got out. She briefly clung to the door until her legs steadied, then fled to the entrance. The doorman ushered her through and once inside, she hurried to the elevators.

Tracy should have been able to sleep away the rest of the day. Her body ached, her head throbbed, and she couldn’t manage more than a couple of crackers on her queasy stomach. She was so exhausted she could barely walk straight, but she was too worked up to sleep. Every moment of the afternoon and early evening passed like hours, until finally she was in her kitchen, facing the small wine rack on the counter.

She’d done everything wrong with Ty Cameron. The memory of those hard blue eyes that had cut and probed and judged wouldn’t leave her alone. She should never have borrowed his car, she’d had no business getting behind the wheel. But she’d been so desperate to get away from him that she would have taken any means of escape.

Then she’d compounded all her other “sins” by refusing to work off the damages. It would have been more prudent for her to at least give Ty a chance. Had she judged him too harshly?

That’s a laugh, she thought bitterly. The notion that someone like her would have the nerve to judge Ty Cameron was the very definition of hubris.

It had been a last bit of self-preservation that had made her turn him down. Under the circumstances, she’d made the right choice. Hadn’t she? The terrible guilt she felt over the car confused it all and the troubling details of her moral dilemma began another tortuous circuit in her brain.

Tracy began to pace. Again. Wobbly, aching, she wandered the penthouse. If she could make her brain stop replaying it all and analyzing every second of what had happened, maybe she could sleep. If she could sleep and wake rested, maybe she could see it all from a fresh angle. Maybe she’d have some new insight, maybe it all wouldn’t seem so terrible. And maybe she wouldn’t feel so horribly guilty.

Tracy stopped pacing when she found herself back in the kitchen facing the wine rack. If she could stop torturing herself, if she could fall asleep…

In the end, she knew there was no hope for her. She reached for a bottle and gave in to the inevitable.

Tracy’s bathroom was as large as some bedrooms she’d slept in. She loved the large, raised marble platform of the bathtub/Jacuzzi that sat beneath the high wall of windows overlooking the lights of San Antonio. Lush potted plants—some in bloom—rested on the marble tile that skirted the tub. Several hung from ceiling hooks overhead and gave the room the feel of outdoors, though the penthouse thermostat kept it all cozy.

She could lie in the tub of hot, churning water, look out at the lights, and drink her glass of wine. Already the churning water soothed her. The wine bottle sat within reach, the flute of wine was poured, but Tracy hadn’t tasted it yet.

There was always a chance that the hot water would do it. The uncommon drowsiness she felt gave her hope, so she waited, trying not to look at the tempting glass or the bottle next to it.

The classical CD that played in the next room was on too low to hear distinctly, but it and the bubbling of the water saved her from silence. She thought she heard the soft chime of her doorbell, but finally dismissed it as imagination.

Tracy didn’t know too many people in San Antonio. She’d never invited anyone up, not even Greg, whom she’d arranged to meet in the lobby before their date last night. She’d never got around to hiring a cleaning lady, and when she ate, she went out somewhere or brought home deli food.

Alone in her private sanctuary, Tracy finally managed to focus her mind on the sound of the water and closed her eyes. Her aching body at last began to feel better as her tension eased. Not even the small distant sounds somewhere in the penthouse made much of an impression. Until the muffled sound of what could only be footfalls alerted her.

Someone was walking down the hall!

Drowsiness made her brain slow to react to the danger. Her body felt heavy and resistant as she tried to rouse herself.

The sound of boot heels on tile made her jerk and grab for a towel. Alarmed, she glanced toward the open door and her heart gave a painful jolt.

Ty Cameron stood in the doorway, his handsome face stern, his vivid blue eyes moving over her as if looking for injury. He advanced on her and Tracy fumbled to cover herself with the towel. Its saturated weight made it difficult to unfold beneath the water.

“Get out!” she shrieked as he reached the marble steps to the Jacuzzi platform.

Ty came to a halt, his gaze going to the wine bottle then to the steam that now whited the mirrors and the lower panel of windows.

“You tryin’ to drink and drown?”

“Get out!” she cried as she shrank away from him as far as the side of the tub allowed. “H-how dare you come in here like this!”

“You might try answering your phone or the door.”

Tracy shook her head adamantly. “You can’t come up here without my permission!”

“Your doorman agreed with me. You looked sick earlier and now you don’t answer the phone or the door. You coulda been in trouble up here.”

“You can see I’m not—get out!” she gritted, so desperate for him to leave that she was on the edge of hysteria.

Ty turned as if to go, but instead pulled open the door of the linen closet and got out a dry towel. He tossed it on the tile that skirted the tub.

“Get dried off and find some clothes. I’ll be waiting in the living room.”

Tracy stared, still shocked by his intrusion. He ordered her around as if he had some right to. He was about to turn away when his gaze caught on the wine flute and bottle. She made a belated move toward both, but Ty leaned over and got them first. His gaze met hers, then dropped to the top of the soaked towel that peeped above the waterline. She could only watch with new horror as his gaze tracked the length of the towel that clung to her body to her thighs.

Tracy couldn’t account for the flush of heat that went through her. Or the electric charge that chased it. Just then, she saw something change in Ty’s harsh gaze. And suddenly, she was so totally petrified of him that her earlier fears about him seemed minuscule.

Ty’s gaze came up to hers and pierced deep. The blue of his eyes seemed to smolder then. Lust. It was as if Ty had only this moment noticed she was female. And she was so utterly vulnerable. Naked and trapped, she had only a soaked towel to hide behind. Ty was big and male and powerful. Unstoppable!

Her racing heart pounded. Unstoppable!

Ty was too big, too strong. He could snap her fragile bones with a careless flick of his hand. He could force on her anything he wanted to. Unstoppable!

“Tracy?” The low timbre of Ty’s voice was oddly gentle. It somehow penetrated her fear and made her aware that she was shaking wildly. Her eyes felt as huge as saucers.

Ty seemed to see something in her then, something that banished the smoldering heat in his eyes. She saw a glimmer of curiosity, but his expression softened so much that she doubted her eyes almost immediately. Was this a trick to put her at ease, to catch her off guard?

It gave her a new shock to realize that the familiar scorn and condemnation she usually saw when Ty looked at her were also gone. That caught her as much by surprise as his sudden lust. Was she imagining all this, especially the soft look he was giving her now?

But oddly, her fear of him was melting. As he straightened, his gaze held hers another heartbeat or two before he turned away. He took the wine and the glass and closed the door solidly on his way out.

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