“Richard found out what you were doing. He sent me here to stop you from doing the article about Nora what’s her name. He wasn’t sure what else you were going to write about him, but he wasn’t about to let you ruin his political chances.”
She gasped. “It’s not true.” The crown of her head tightened like an approaching migraine.
“It is.” The scar around his mouth twisted. “My job was to make you fall for me and then dump you so you’d have nothing to write.”
His words beat into her like a hammer striking bone. Questions pinged around in her splitting head. How could Richard have found out? And how could Tanner be working for him?
“This doesn’t make any sense.” Her voice broke. She gripped her hands, willing herself not to cry. She was sick to death of crying in front of the men she loved.
He turned away, looking across the room. “Richard wanted to make you stop, suffer. I was the tool.”
Her heart bled, fresh and hot, from this new wound. She believed that. Easily. No amount of suffering would please Richard, especially since she had the means to destroy him. He was a predator. He always struck last, and he always killed his prey. How had she forgotten that?
But Tanner wasn’t Richard. He was a good man. She’d seen it.
But you thought that about Richard too, a dark voice inside her said.
She grabbed a sheet to cover herself. “But why you? I believe what you’ve said about Richard, but how could you do this? To me.”
His face contorted. He walked stiffly to the closet and pulled out a robe. “It was the condition for my dream job. After being overseas in stinking villages for the past few years, I was willing to do anything.”
Hope retreated. Her guts burned with pain like someone had driven a stake into them. That sounded like Richard. Staring at his clenched back, she shook her head.
“I don’t believe it!”
He cinched the robe like a garrote and stalked over to her, punching his phone with hard taps. “I’ve sent updates.” Pushing the phone into her face, she saw the photo of them by the fire.
The yawning pain grew inside her. The picture filled her vision like her tears. They looked so happy. She clenched her eyes shut and pressed her hands to her chest, searching for confidence.
It wasn’t there.
“It’s not possible.”
“It is.” He grabbed her arms with enough force to make her eyes pop and jerked her to her feet. “I told you. You don’t know me! You made me into something I wasn’t.”
“No!”
“You were attracted to me. I used that and played on your vulnerabilities.”
“Bullshit,” she said, to him as much as to herself.
He punched his chest. “This is what I am! A cold-blooded journalist who’ll do whatever it takes to snag a fabulous job.” He stalked over to the window.
His thundering voice raised the hairs on her arms. She crossed them to keep from falling apart. “I know you care about me,” she cried, rising and walking over to him.
His mouth curled when he looked back. “Why do you think I kept pursuing you? No guy would put up with the kind of rejection you dished out.”
Her earlier doubts about why he hadn’t given up rose like rotted wood. She curled over in pain. He made a move toward her but stopped himself. The ticking in his jaw gave her the courage for one last try. She straightened and cupped his face with shaking hands, his stubble making her skin feel raw.
“This isn’t you, Tanner. I know it isn’t.”
He shoved her hands away. “Yes, it is.” He stalked over to the door. Threw it open. It vibrated on its hinges. “Since I’ve done my job and killed your story, there’s no reason for you to get in my way about this Ray thing. I’m out of here after I nail the bad guys, write up the story, and finish classes. Our paths don’t have to cross again.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“It wasn’t personal.”
The echoes of past pain awoke in her body like ghosts. She couldn’t have been deceived like this again. She was stronger now. She was Divorcée Woman. “Why are you saying this?”
“Why won’t you believe me? Listen! I don’t know what you have on your ex, but you had to be stopped. I was the perfect man to do it. I was new to his paper, you and I had things like Columbia and swimming in common, and you didn’t know me. Do you want me to get my file on you? You love dark chocolate.”
“Stop it.” She made a fist, wanting to slug him.
“Your favorite color is—”
“Shut up!” She put her hands over her ears.
“Do you need more proof?” He flicked his hand to the door. “You should get out. We’re done here.”