The Man She'll Marry. Susan Fox P.
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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