Nothing But Trouble

“It couldn’t possibly be the exact amount you’ve lost to me in our friendly little poker games over the last few months, could it?

“Well, well, that must be the reason.”

“Clayburn, you’re not going to get that money out of me. Tallie won’t jump bail.”

“Not intentionally,” the judge said, chuckling loudly. “But knowing Tallie, she just might take that tow truck of hers into Mississippi without even thinking, and if she does, and if I have a mind to, I can rule that she’s jumped bail.”

Clayburn Proctor was a wily old fox who enjoyed his games. Peyton wouldn’t put anything past him. If anyone else had been posting Tallie’s bail, Clayburn would have named a different amount, but the judge couldn’t resist the chance to needle Peyton. “You wouldn’t do that to Tallie.”

“Probably not,” Clayburn admitted. “We’re both under that girl’s spell, aren’t we, Peyt? Like everybody else in these parts.”

“You may be under her spell, but I’m damn well not!” Peyton had never been under any woman’s spell and most definitely not Tallie Bishop’s. She was five-feet-two-inches of pure trouble. She’d been a pest as long as he’d known her, ever since she’d been a kid and traipsed around after him and her brothers when they went hunting and fishing. And, dammit all, when she’d turned sixteen and fancied herself in love with him, she’d nearly driven him crazy until he’d persuaded her that there could never be anything romantic between them.

“Don’t protest so much,” Clayburn said. “Folks will assume you’ve got something to hide.”

“Thanks again for setting bail, odd amount or not,” Peyton said, deliberately changing the subject. He was not interested in Tallie Bishop, most definitely not in the way Clayburn Proctor was suggesting. They were barely friends. He tried to look out for her as a favor to her brothers and because somebody had to do it. There was nothing more to their relationship than that—absolutely nothing.

* * *

Standing in the doorway, Peyton watched Tallie while she made the rounds up and down the pens in the animal shelter. When she and Susan Williams, the shelter manager, stopped by the pen that housed Solomon, the huge dog reared up against the wire gate, his head towering over the two women.

The moment Susan opened the gate, Solomon jumped down and loped out toward Tallie. Squatting beside the Great Dane, Tallie gave him a hug, then ran her hand down his back in a loving pet.

“Did you think you were doomed to life in this prison?” Tallie’s voice held the same soft, even quality a mother uses when reassuring a child. “Well, Peyt and I have come to take you home, but you’ll have to be on your best behavior because you’ll be riding in Peyt’s Jaguar.”

Good God! He hadn’t thought about that when he’d offered to drive Tallie and Solomon home. That dog was the size of a pony. Peyton felt like kicking himself. Why hadn’t he let her call on someone else for taxi service? Why did he think it was his responsibility to make sure she got home safe and sound?

“Where’s your truck?” Susan asked as they walked into the outer office area where a volunteer manned the reception desk.

“Mike picked it up at the Nolans’ and took it back to the garage.” When Tallie stopped, Solomon came to heel without a word from his mistress. “We didn’t know whether or not I’d be spending the night in jail.” Smiling, she cut her eyes in Peyton’s direction. “Lowell let me bring Solomon along in the police car, and I certainly appreciate y’all taking care of him for me.”

“Good gracious, Tallie, taking care of Solomon is the least we could do for our number-one volunteer,” Susan said. “Mr. Rand, we’re certainly glad you were able to get Tallie out of jail so fast. I just can’t believe she’ll have to stand trial for protecting a child and his dog.”

“Well, Ms. Williams, Tallie did shoot a man.” Peyton knew it was useless to point out Tallie’s faults to any of her many admirers, and Susan Williams was no exception. “I expect once I present the evidence, Judge Proctor will go easy on her.”

“As well he should,” Susan said. “I just wish we could get Loretta to take those children and leave Cliff Nolan. If she doesn’t, he’ll wind up killing one of them sooner or later.”

“Tallie, we really should be going.” Peyton nodded toward the front door. “I’ve taken off all afternoon, but I need to get back to Jackson. I have a dinner engagement in Marshallton this evening.”

“Sure thing.” Tallie, her dog at her side, gave Susan a quick hug. “Thanks again. Come on, Solomon.”

Just as Peyton opened the door and stepped outside, the telephone rang. When the volunteer informed Susan that the call was for her, Tallie followed Peyton outside. But before they made it to the car, Susan stuck her head out the door and called to Tallie.

“Wait up,” Susan said. “Tallie, I need to talk to you for just a minute. It’s important, or I wouldn’t hold you up like this.”

Tallie gave Peyton a questioning look. “Do you mind terribly? I promise I’ll hurry.”

“Two minutes.” Peyton tapped the face of his Rolex.

“Stay, Solomon,” Tallie ordered, then rushed to the entrance of the animal shelter where Susan stood waiting.

Peyton leaned against the side of his car, his tense body striving for relaxation. Reaching inside his coat pocket, he removed his sunglasses and put them on, then crossed his arms over his chest.

He didn’t have time for this delay, whatever the cause. He’d had his secretary clear his calendar for the afternoon because he hadn’t had any idea how long this latest “Tallie rescue” would take. But he and Donna had plans to dine with Marshallton’s mayor tonight. Peyton wanted to get his old friend’s thoughts on the possibility of running for governor in the next election.

Peyton glanced over at Tallie. The late-afternoon sun caught in her raven hair, giving it a blue-black luster. She kept her dark curly hair cropped short, in an almost boyish style, but there was nothing boyish about that baby-doll face, those long, thick eyelashes, that full pink mouth. Damn, why couldn’t she have stayed skinny and flat-chested, the way she’d been at sixteen when she’d professed her undying love and he’d gently rejected her? Somewhere between the age of sixteen, when Caleb, the youngest of the Bishop boys, had left for college on a baseball scholarship and had asked Peyton to look out for his little sister, and the age of eighteen, Tallie Bishop had blossomed. Actually, she’d over-blossomed. Her body had filled out in all the right places, creating an hourglass-shaped body on a petite frame.

Peyton noticed the way her frayed blue jeans clung to her hips and legs. She wore a grease-stained short-sleeved chambray shirt, tucked beneath the waistband in the back and hanging loose in the front. Underneath the unbuttoned shirt, her full breasts strained against a faded yellow T-shirt. On a less well endowed woman, the clothes would have looked masculine. On Tallie, they looked damned sexy. And that was the problem. For the past eight years, men had been ogling Tallie, despite her tomboyish ways. She’d had her pick of most young bucks in the county, dating every good-looking Tom, Dick and Harry. On more than one occasion, she’d coldcocked some overzealous suitor. Trouble sought Tallie the way a moth seeks a flame.

And it wasn’t just the men who couldn’t take no for an answer that caused problems, it was Tallie’s constant interference in other people’s lives. He had to admit that she was a good citizen, working in her spare time as a volunteer fire fighter for Crooked Oak as well as a helper at the Humane Shelter. But more often than not, Tallie let her concern overshadow her better judgment. Case in point—filling Cliff Nolan full of birdshot. But there was always something. Her love for animals had gotten her into trouble with Lobo Smothers, an illiterate farmer suspected of illegal hunting and trapping. Tallie had been doing everything in her power to help the authorities catch him and put him in jail. Needless to say, she and Lobo weren’t the best of friends. And there were her endless efforts to get abused women to leave their husbands and start new lives. Cliff Nolan wasn’t the only husband in Crooked Oak who had a bone to pick with Tallie.

What the hell was Peyton going to do about her if he did decide to run for governor? There was no way the woman would ever change, and having his name linked with hers in connection to one of her wild exploits was bound to damage his image.

His image? His old man had always cared about the Rand family’s image, and it had been one of the things he’d despised about his father. If he did decide to enter politics, would he become more and more like Senator Marshall Rand? His father had died a lonely and unhappy man. Peyton didn’t want to follow in his footsteps.

“Ready?” Tallie asked.

Peyton stared at her, unaware until she’d spoken that she had approached the car. “All finished with Susan?”

“Ah...yeah...just some shelter business.” Tallie opened the passenger door, ordered Solomon inside and slipped into the seat.

Peyton didn’t like the way she’d answered him. She was hiding something. Tallie was so damned honest, the truth showed on her face whenever she tried to lie. Pink spots stained her cheeks. Getting into the Jag, he started the engine. “What sort of business?”

“Huh?”

“What’s up, Tallie?” Peyton backed out of the parking area. “If this is something that’s going to cause me any more problems, then let me hear it now.”

“What makes you think this has anything to do with you?” Sticking out her chin, Tallie crossed her arms under her bosom.

“If it’s not something that could get you into trouble, then why won’t you tell me?” Turning the car onto the highway, Peyton glanced over at Tallie and wished he hadn’t. Her slender, crisscrossed arms had boosted her full breasts up and out, reminding him of how truly female she was.

“An anonymous caller told Susan that he had information about where Lobo Smothers had set up some traps, out toward Kingsley Hill.”

Peyton groaned, then glanced over at Tallie. “Stay out of it. Give the information to Lowell and let him handle it.”

“I could do that, but it won’t do any good. Lobo Smothers always seems to be one step ahead of the law.”

“Lowell Redman is just newly elected. Give him a chance.”

“The last time I shared information with the sheriff’s department, they arrived at the scene to find no traps, and no Lobo. I told you then that Lowell’s got a rat working for him. I just haven’t figured out who it is yet, but I will.”

“Tallie, stay away from Lobo Smothers.” Peyton issued the command in a tight, controlled voice. “The man is dangerous.”

“All the more reason that he should be behind bars! Besides, rumor has it that Lobo is growing marijuana out there in the woods somewhere. If his abuse of animals won’t stir the law into action, maybe his being in the drug racket will.”

“Whatever Lobo Smothers is doing, let the law handle it! Dammit, woman, you’re in enough trouble. In another week or two, you’ll be going to trial for shooting a man full of birdshot. You do realize that if Lowell Redman wasn’t a friend and if Clayburn Proctor didn’t think you were a saint for saving his grandson’s life, you could do some serious jail time for what you did.”

“I was defending a poor, helpless child and a pitiful little dog from a monstrous brute.” Solomon growled as if agreeing with his mistress.