“Don’t go any further with that thought,” Ty warned, massaging the sudden throbbing at her temple. She, too, had topics too painful to discuss. At least half of the messages on her machine, signaled by the illuminated number twelve next to the red light blipping frantically on the console of her phone, were calls from the office of her father’s company, demanding her presence. Ty wondered whether Stannard Limited had been forced to hire a new employee whose sole responsibility was to leave these predictable and unchanging messages: “Mr. Stannard is calling to request your presence at his office this afternoon.”
Wouldn’t that be a job from hell?
“That’s one of the reasons I almost never pick up,” Ty admitted. “The dratted phone rings every other minute. Not even screening the calls helps—I keep losing my place in the accounts and have to start my calculations all over again. It’s like one step forward, two steps back getting through these numbers.”
Lizzie made a noise of sympathy on the other end. “I can well imagine. I’m just thankful you’re dealing with it and not me! Look, you know there’s no rush on the books; we don’t have to file anything for months yet.” Lizzie paused for a minute before continuing. “So, Daddy Stannard’s trying to sweet-talk you into a reconciliation?” There was no love lost between Mr. Stannard and Lizzie.
“He’ll get over that particular pipe dream.”
“Hmm . . .” Lizzie’s reply was noncommittal. She didn’t believe that Tyler Stannard was going to give up the warped pleasure he got from having Ty around to manipulate any time soon. He’d enjoyed having his dutiful daughter at his beck and call for too long, and he wasn’t the kind who took no for an answer. No, Lizzie reflected bitterly, he just enjoyed being able to say it to others. Ty’s voice interrupted her musing. “So, what are we celebrating?”
“A milestone anniversary, kiddo. Do you realize today marks exactly eighteen months since the divorce came through and just shy of a year since you and I opened the barn? I thought the three of us might go out to a restaurant after the benefit tonight. Just think of it, we can spoon mush down Emma’s throat while we pour champagne down ours.”
“Sounds utterly irresistible! So I get to see Emma tonight, too?”
Emma was Lizzie’s daughter, Ty’s goddaughter, and in Ty’s unbiased opinion probably the cutest twoyearold ever. A curly-haired strawberry blonde, she was the spitting image of her mother. Beautiful from the day she was born, whenever Emma and Lizzie came to the city for a visit and the two friends took Emma out for a walk, navigating the dark blue stroller through the busy streets, little old ladies stopped them to coo and exclaim over the adorable baby. Fortunately, Emma also had inherited her mother’s sunny disposition and, as if knowing it would make their day, gurgled happily and energetically into the old ladies’ faces. Ty loved her as if she were her own and tried to spend as much time with Lizzie and Emma as she could.
“I reserved a room for Em and a baby-sitter. After the benefit’s over, we can pick her up and take her with us. Does Giorgio’s sound good to you?”
“My mouth’s watering already.”
“Well, your appetite might vanish once you get a load of Emma’s new favorite food.”
Emma had entered the terrible twos with decided tastes. Ty remembered how for an entire month, she’d insisted on eating only green foods, morning, noon, and night.
“So what is it these days?” Ty inquired curiously.
“She’s gone orange on me, Ty,” Lizzie replied in a piteous tone. “Butternut squash is her top favorite, although I did manage to sneak a few squares of cheddar and cantaloupe into her this morning. You’ve no idea what a tricky, underhanded mom I’ve become. I thought green was bad, pureeing broccoli and spinach until I wanted to scream, but this squash stuff is a nightmare! I have to soak her tops for
days.
That, or dye them all orange!”
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll make sure I stay out of range. So what time do you want me there tonight?”
Ty asked, glancing at her watch. It was just three now.
“Six o’clock. By then, most of the guests will have arrived and you can start working your magic. I need that killer instinct of yours to drum up clients and open checkbooks. If we get a full enrollment for the summer program, we’ll be able to offer at least eight scholarships for next winter’s program.”
“It’s at the Waldorf, right?”
“Yes. The organizers wanted it in a convenient location so the out-of-towners wouldn’t get lost.”
Ty leaned back against the cushions, stretching her long legs out in front of her. She hated social functions. Passionately. “Great. I’ll be there with bells on, encouraging one and all to enroll their horse-crazy kids in Cobble Creek’s summer horse masters’ program.”
“Thanks, Ty. But forget the bells. Just wear the Valentino number. The guys’ll be too blinded by lust to count how many zeros they’re tacking on when they write out their checks. Oh, my God! Look at the time! Gotta run if Emma and I are going to beat the rush-hour traffic. See ya, sweets.”
With a small smile at Lizzie’s undiminished exuberance, Ty replaced the phone on the cradle. She steadfastly ignored the flashing red light, a reminder of countless messages. Her mind was traveling back, recalling how much Lizzie had been through these past eighteen months, how much Ty wished she’d been a better friend.
Lizzie Osborne Strickland’s life had taken a dizzyingly fast downward spiral from the moment her patience snapped, her sense of pride reasserted itself, and she at last filed for divorce from her philandering husband, Michael Strickland, asking also for custody of their baby girl, Emma. Within a mere twenty-four hours after the papers were filed, Michael hired a divorce lawyer widely acknowledged to be the most ruthless in the city. Before Lizzie could catch her breath and her own lawyer knew what had hit them, Strickland emptied Lizzie’s and his joint checking account, canceled her credit cards, and pressed charges against Lizzie himself, seeking to have her declared an unfit mother. He even went so far as to claim that she had attacked him in a drunken rage.
Divorce is never pretty, but Lizzie had never dreamed that Michael could sink to this level of viciousness. He’d seemed like such a great catch.
Lizzie and he met at a party thrown by mutual friends. Lizzie, twenty-three and more dazzling than ever, had graduated from college the spring before. She was living in the city, working for a PR company, and riding competitively on the weekends. One look at Lizzie’s gorgeous body and the thick strawberry-blonde mane that fell down to the middle of her back, and Michael, a smooth-talking, ambitious executive at a large telecommunications firm, reacted like every other male who’d ever laid eyes on her. He’d gone straight to the party’s host for the name of the babe with the “killer bod” and racked his brains for the best angle to entice her into his bed.
Some men know instinctively how to play to women. Michael Strickland was one of them. He joked, he flattered, he listened to Lizzie’s descriptions of her small group of clients and accounts as if they were more than fascinating. He asked her questions, scrupulously careful not to switch the conversation and talk about his job, an instant signal that he considered his own career more important. He hinted broadly that he might be able to line up some new clients for her.
The following day, Lizzie’s doorbell rang, and a delivery man presented her with a bouquet consisting of twenty-six tea roses, intermingled with freesia and lilies, the scent of the bouquet as bewitching as it was beautiful to behold. Anote scrawled on a thick vellum card accompanied it, inviting her to dinner that evening.
They were an item within days, and two months later their engagement was announced. Lizzie threw herself into wedding plans with her customary enthusiasm, and Michael continued to be the epitome of charm. Ty managed to get together with the fianc?s a couple of times, for dinner or drinks, but it was a period during which she was traveling virtually nonstop for her father’s real estate company. She’d been too busy and too tired to probe beyond the slick surface of Michael Strickland’s character. And as Lizzie and Ty both now knew, Michael Strickland was a first-class liar and dissembler. Someone as practiced as Strickland was awfully hard to catch.
Both women might have been in the dark about Michael’s character for far longer if he, himself, hadn’t chosen to reveal his true colors right after the wedding day. In fact, Ty unfortunately got her first glimpse of the real Michael Strickland even sooner, a mere half-hour after the beautifully orchestrated ceremony Lizzie and her mother had organized, with Ty as the maid of honor. Sentimental tears had run down her cheeks as Lizzie, looking achingly beautiful, pledged love and loyalty to the man standing at her side. Shortly after the ceremony, Ty was in the upstairs guest bathroom, repairing the damage her tears had wreaked on her makeup. Without knocking, without any warning, Michael sauntered into the bathroom, so startling Ty that she almost dropped the wand of mascara she’d been using on her smeared eyelashes.
Embarrassed and surprised by the intrusion, Ty glanced at Michael uneasily, wondering whether he might have been going a little heavy on the champagne. What else could cause him to barge in on her while she was in the bathroom?
He didn’t appear to notice her distress. For all the world, he looked perfectly relaxed, his black cutaway emphasizing the muscular build that had made him one of the leading rushers on his college rugby team. White teeth flashed as he gave her an easy, confident smile. “Ahh, I found you. Lizzie’s been wondering where you snuck off to. Told her I’d hunt you down.”
If he were drunk, Ty couldn’t detect it by his speech or by his eyes. They shone bright and clear in the large bathroom mirror. Catching a glimpse of his own reflection in the mirror, he paused and lifted a hand to his head, smoothing a lock of his gelled short brown hair. Evidently pleased with what he saw, his lips in a cocky grin. Then, as if he abruptly remembered her presence, his gaze abandoned his own image and locked on Ty’s. His smile broadened, and Ty was suddenly reminded of a slick used-car salesman. Quickly, she looked away, thoroughly irritated at his behavior. What was he doing here, in the bathroom with her? Anyone else would have excused himself immediately.
Although she tried to keep her face expressionless, it was difficult to mask the annoyance in her voice.
“Please tell Lizzie I’ll be finished in a minute, Michael. Don’t let me keep you from your guests downstairs.”
“No hurry,” Michael replied. As if emphasizing his point, he propped a shoulder negligently against the door frame, his broad shoulders almost filling the space. “Everyone’s busy guzzling the Osbornes’
champagne and gorging on caviar.”
This was getting beyond weird, Ty thought, tendrils of fear beginning to unfurl inside her. Well, if he wasn’t going to leave,
she
would. Who cared what her makeup looked like, anyway? She closed the small plastic tube of mascara with an impatient flick of her wrist.
Turning to face Michael, she addressed him coolly, distantly, her newfound dislike for him showing. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get by,” she said pointedly.
He didn’t move a muscle, only continued lounging against the doorjamb. “As I said, there’s no hurry. It’s a big house, and I found you quickly. No one’s going to be missing either of us.”
Twin spots of angry color heated her cheeks, in contrast to her voice, which could have given frostbite.
“Nevertheless, I think I should go down now.”
He ignored her words. “You and Liz are really close, aren’t you?” he observed in a musing tone.
“Practically sisters . . . what’s hers is yours, and vice versa.”
The fine hair on the back of Ty’s neck prickled in alarm as she realized Michael’s eyes had begun traveling up and down the length of her body, lingering far too long on the gentle swell of her breasts. She had to get out of there. The thought drummed inside her head with an urgent beat. A distance of about four feet separated them; Ty dreaded the thought of approaching any closer. But the only way to get out of the bathroom was to walk past Lizzie’s new husband. Otherwise, she was trapped. The scene was surreal, unthinkable, yet the tension and unease that vibrated within her were all too real. Still, she was damned if she was going to let Michael Strickland sense her fear. Unconsciously, her chin lifted and her eyes hardened until they resembled chips of granite. With nothing but her courage, Ty forced herself to take those steps toward him, fervently praying all the while that he’d move aside and let her pass.
The fear she’d tried to contain exploded inside her as his hand grabbed her arm, his fingers strong, squeezing her tender flesh.
She gave a small cry, no longer able to hide her terror. “What are you doing? Let go of me!”
She struggled, trying to break his grasp on her. Although Ty was tall and fairly strong, her struggle to free herself was laughable. With an appalling ease, Michael Strickland pulled her closer, her ivory satin bridesmaid’s gown brushing against his trousers. A meaty hand clasped both of her wrists, imprisoning her.
“Come on, Ty, don’t pretend with me. Everyone says you’re still a virgin, but I can tell you’re real hungry for it. I knew it the minute I met you.”
“Let me go!” Ty repeated desperately. “For God’s sake, you’re Lizzie’s husband. Are you
mad?”
His other hand began moving over her slender body, fingers crushing the delicate fabric beneath them. He dropped his head, nuzzling the pale, fragrant column of Ty’s neck. His hot breath washed over her, filling her with revulsion. Her stomach lurched with panic and fear.
As if from very far away, she heard his voice, though that was all wrong because her flesh was crawling as he pressed closer and closer. “Lizzie’s fine,” Michael was saying. “The guys are drooling with envy that I grabbed her first, but, hey, variety is the spice of life. No way am I going to miss out on some hot snatch just ‘cause I’ve got a ring on my finger.” With that, he rubbed his erection against her thighs, pushing back and forth. Ty cried out, redoubling her efforts to escape his hold. Michael only yanked her closer, his body suffocating in its nearness. “That’s right, come on, baby, gimme some noise.”