Rekindled (8 page)

She was distracted as the evening waned, unaware of looks of concern sent her way. When Lee said, “I’m takin’ off now, Chloe,” she was startled. Her head came up. Unsure, she straightened.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized softly. “I’m afraid I haven’t been much help. We haven’t even gone over those things we should have.”

“No problem.” He smiled. “We’ll do it tomorrow.” Taking his cue from the disquieted look in her eyes, he turned to Ross. “Are you staying here tonight?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

They spoke at the same time. Chloe hurried on. “No, Ross. You can’t stay here.” She was determined. “There’s one bedroom and one bed, and I need it.”

“Why don’t you stay with me, friend?” Lee offered-and for the second time that evening, Chloe could have disowned him. She wanted Ross to leave. Out of sight was out of mind. Lee’s offer only complicated things.

Naturally, Ross accepted the invitation. “No imposition?”

“No imposition. The sofa in the living room opens into a bed. The back door will be open. Chloe will point you in the right direction.” Before she could protest, Lee reached the door. “Good night, folks.” He grinned, letting himself out with a flourish.

With a steadying breath, Chloe settled deeper into her high-backed chair, tucked her feet under her, forced her fingers to relax against the broad wicker arms, and looked across the room at Ross.

He spoke softly. “You really do look like a princess in that chair. Those peacock markings could as easily be a crown of gold as a swirl of wicker. Are you comfortable?” His eyes were gleaming, mocking.

“No,” she answered honestly. “You know I’m not.”

His grin held no apology. “That’s a shame. I don’t want you to be miserable through the entire weekend.”

“You can’t stay all weekend!”

“Why not? I have a place to sleep. That Lee’s a good guy.”

“Too good!” she grumbled. “I thought I could trust him.”

Ross sat forward, elbows on his thighs, fingers steepled. “That’s what puzzles me. I’m sure you can trust him, but I can’t figure out for the life of me why.”

Chloe instantly came to Lee’s defense. “He’s been a true friend to me.”

“Why only a true friend? Why not a lover?”

“Lee doesn’t want that from a woman.”

“You mean, he prefers-“

“No. No, Ross. Don’t twist things.” Beneath his stare, her own insides twisted. “Lee was married once. He has two children. He and his wife divorced five years ago. She lives in St. Louis.”

“Ah. Once burned … okay, I’ll accept that.”

“How kind,” she murmured, but she was annoyed enough to see an opening and take it. “What about you? In the eleven years since I knew you when, what have you done along similar lines? Should I assume you’ve developed odd preferences?”

The instant she said it, she knew it was a mistake. Good humor faded fast from Ross’s face. When he stood and approached her, she struggled to avoid cringing into the chair. There was a hard look to him.

“Would that make you trust me more?” he murmured. He towered above her for a minute, then bent over. His hands covered hers on the arms of the chair. His face was too near. “Sorry to disappoint you, but my preferences are still for the opposite sex.” His lips moved closer. Chloe looked down to escape them, but his long body filled her view. Everywhere she moved her eyes, she saw him, one point more alarming than the next. If it wasn’t the vee of his chest, with its wisps of dark hair edging alongside the tab of his collar, it was the breadth of his shoulders or the lean tapering of his middle or the casual set of his hips. Those hips told their own story. She tore her gaze away, completely convinced of his preference.

He grinned. “Any further questions?”

The slight shake of her head was enough to bring his lips into contact with her cheek, and Chloe was suddenly conflicted. Pull away. Move closer. Keep your eyes shut. Look at him. Look at him. Look at him.

She looked. His eyes held gentleness now. And the same desire she felt. So close. So far away. “Kiss me. Don’t.

He did. Very, very lightly. A ghost of a touch with shuddering intensity. Chloe’s eyes were shut, her lips parted. To taste him once more … When he kissed her again, his tenderness incited her need. She moved closer, clung to him with her own lips, drank in the tang of his mouth, so moist and strong yet soft. His tongue touched hers briefly before he raised his head.

“Definitely my preference.” He spoke thickly, his breathing uneven.

Chloe was momentarily disoriented. It was a minute before reality returned. Then she was appalled. “What am I doing?” she asked, not realizing she’d spoken aloud. “What am I doing?”

“Letting yourself live,” came the husky but gentle declaration.

Burying her face in her hands, she struggled to understand what had just happened. She couldn’t face him, much less herself. Easier to hide behind the cascade of hair that fell forward, shielding her from the world.

Lost in silent self-reproach Chloe was unaware that he had moved away and returned to the sofa. He was waiting, listening, when she finally raised her head.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she pleaded softly. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

He frowned. “Funny, I’ve asked myself the same question a dozen times in the last two weeks.” He studied his knuckles, seeming to struggle. “It’s like for the first time in years, I care.”

“What do you mean?” she asked falteringly.

“You asked me what I’ve done with myself during the past years.” He gave a snort of disgust. “I haven’t been quite as noble as you. There have been women over the years.”

She had assumed that, and felt no resentment. There was a certain solace in the knowledge that when all was said and done, he was still attracted to her. After all, he was magnificent. More than one of those women must have tried to tie him down.

“Didn’t you find anyone special?” she asked quietly.

Ross was just as quiet. “Some I liked more than others. But, no, there was no one special. No one who meant enough to tempt me to change my lifestyle. I’m on the road all the time. I do own an old brownstone in Manhattan, but I doubt if I spend a total of three months a year there. Hotel rooms, friends’ apartments, rented suites-that’s been home for the past few years.”

“It served your purpose.”

“Yes.” The amber eyes that held hers pierced her heart. They said much more, all of it silent, all of it mind bending. In the insanity of a fleeting instant, she wanted … she wanted … What did she want?

Ross sighed. “I am a successful businessman.” It was a statement of fact, devoid of arrogance. “But that’s not enough.”

She followed his thoughts. “I can’t help you, Ross.”

“Can’t? “

“Won’t. If you’re looking for a wife and a family, a home in the country, maybe a few dogs and horses, even sheep, you’ll have to look elsewhere. I can’t be anything but this.”

His gaze sharpened. “Did I mention those things? Or are they what you wanted once? Haven’t you ever wished for a husband who loves you, children, pets, friends, property? What do you want from life?”

“What I have right now. I don’t want to look back, and I won’t look ahead. I like this life. I’m content.”

“Are you?” he challenged. “Don’t you ever stop to wonder what it might have been like-“

“No,” Chloe said with force and pushed herself out of the chair. “I didn’t ask you to come here, Ross. I didn’t ask you to stay. As of right now”-she pointed at the floor for emphasis-“I don’t care what you do, but don’t expect to change the way I see the world and my life. I’ve done just fine on my own for the past eleven years. I plan to do it a while longer.” Her hand was shaking. She jammed it into the back pocket of her jeans. “I’m going to bed. Let yourself out.” With a whirl that sent her hair flaring out behind, she strode from the room, ran up the stairs to her room, and firmly closed the door.

Trembling uncontrollably, she collapsed onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Her ragged breathing was the only sound that broke the night’s quiet-that, and the opening and closing of the front door when Ross left the house.

For what seemed like hours she agonized, locked in silent battle with a horde of private ghosts. If only she had never seen Ross again. To be free, once more, of this gnawing at mind and body.

But she had seen him again and, if he stuck to his plan, would see more of him before he left. There was only one solution, as she saw it. Indifference. What man would put up with that for long? Indifference. It would turn him off, wouldn’t it? Surely then he would leave her in peace.

She awoke the next morning on an optimistic note, showered, dressed, and sailed downstairs for breakfast. It was with momentary dismay that she found her kitchen in use-until she recalled the night’s resolve, tilted up her chin, and advanced.

“Ah,” she said as she helped herself to a cup of the coffee he had brewed, ” you’ve made yourself at home.”

His grin was as bright as the morning sun that slanted across the porch beyond the screen. “It’s a luxury. I’m enjoying it. It’s not every day that I get to putter around a cozy kitchen, much less wait on a princess.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” She hoped, prayed it was so. By way of diversion, she eyed the stove. “Bacon, eggs, home fries? You’re going to eat all that?”

“With your help.”

“Ohhhh, no. After a breakfast like that I’d barely be able to keep my eyes open. I have too many things to do-“

“-for which you need energy. And, anyway,” he called over his shoulder as he turned the bacon, “if you don’t eat breakfasts like this, why such a full stock of goodies? Lee’s refrigerator was bare.”

“So that’s it, huh?” she asked, eyes narrowing. “You’re starved and my old buddy Lee couldn’t help you out?” She chuckled. “Lee eats out. A lot.”

“Here?”

“Do you see him here now?” she shot back.

“haven’t seen him today, period. He’s not upstairs, is he?”

Shaking her head, she turned toward the large bay window, whose broad seat was her favorite perch. “That doesn’t deserve an answer.”

Sipping her coffee, she spoke absently. “As for the state of my ice box, I eat in. A lot. Eggs make terrific dinner omelets, bacon a great BLT, and potatoes are most definitely to be baked, then scooped, mashed with a little Parmesan cheese and cream, restuffed, dotted with butter, and broiled until delicately browned on top.”

The silence that followed her recitation was enough to get her to look back. Ross’s expression was one of amused astonishment. “You must have memorized the cookbook.”

“No. I just happen to like my potatoes that way, and I do it a lot.”

Ross leaned back against the counter, arms folded across his chest. “Would you make them like that for me some time-maybe with a few lamb chops, some fresh broccoli, a little wine?”

He looked dangerous, newly showered and wearing jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. But Chloe had taken a vow of indifference. He’s just a friend, she told herself, no different from Lee. Calmly enough, she said, “I make a meal of the potatoes. If you’d like to do up the rest, be my guest.” She settled on the window seat and looked out at the beach. “It’s another beautiful day.”

“Uh-huh.” His voice was muffled. He had turned back to his cooking. Chlo soon he was addressing her again. “Sleep well?”

“Not bad.” Once she had fallen asleep. “How about you?”

He had turned to reach for plates from the cupboard. “About the same.”

It was an odd choice of words, she mused, unless she was so transparent that he could see her thoughts. If there was smugness on his face, though, she couldn’t see it. He was cooking. All she saw was his back. There was a full head of thick and vibrant dark hair, a torso whose firmness was shown off by the snug fit of his sweater, a pair of lean denim hips and long, sturdy legs, not to mention well-worn leather boots.

She took a deep, steadying breath. If he had dressed to kill on purpose, she could resist. She wasn’t buying what he had to offer. She wasn’t.

“All set?” Grinning, he placed two brimming plates on the table. When she gaped at hers in dismay, he added a gentle, “Don’t worry. Whatever you can’t finish, I will.”

She pushed away from the window seat with a grimace. “You’d better get started then. I’m nearly finished.” She held up her drained coffee cup. “This is all I usually have, with a slice of toast or a muffin.” Still, she took a seat opposite him. She stared at the plate, decided that the eggs looked pretty good, and took a bite.

“Do the people you work with know about your past?”

Her eyes flew to his, warning, then haunted. She gave him a wan smile. “You make it sound lurid.” She pushed home fries around her plate. “They know where I come from-some even know that I had a sister. Lee knows most of the story. But the lovely thing about my life here is that the people I know see me for what I am today. It’s easier not having to constantly contend with the past.”

Ross seemed puzzled. “Why do you assume you’d have to do that anywhere? It’s been eleven years, Chloe. The world goes on. People accept change. You seem to be the only one who can’t move on.”

Chloe set down her fork. She took an angry breath. “I look in the mirror.”

rooted in the present. There were reports to read, studies to review, proposals to consider. The more she worked, the better she felt. For the first time since having done the lab work earlier that week, she studied the sediment analysis of samples taken along an increasingly unstable portion of the Cape Cod National Seashore.

“Problems?” This from Debbie Walker, who popped her head in shortly after eleven.

“Hi, Deb. Come on in.” She smiled at her petite, sandy-haired associate. “It’s the Cape analysis. I was just studying the results of the work I did last week. I have the grain sizes of the sand pretty much divided by sections. Boy, they really botched it.”

““They’ being the people who put that parking lot so close to the cliff.?”

Chloe sighed. “It’s begun to erode already, and the locals want to sue. According to my calculations, they have a case.”

“Will you be called in to testify?”

“I’m not sure. I have to work this report up into some kind of written form. Depending on what happens when they read it, whether or not the matter can be settled first, it may not make it to court.” She sat back. “It’s a shame that we seem to learn things after the fact. If only those developers had gotten a geologist to advise them at the start.”