Rub It In (15 page)

A thoughtful hum drifted out of the receiver. “I couldn’t promise you anything, Ms. McKinney. I’m not sure the selection committee will reconsider.”

“I’ll take whatever chance you can give me.”

“Very well, if nothing else, they might be impressed with your tenacious attitude. But you’ll need to be here by tomorrow at noon—it’s the only appointment time I have left.”

She’d paddle a boat to St. Lucia herself if she had to. “No problem. I’ll call you as soon as I arrive in the city.”

“I look forward to meeting you in person, then.”

They hung up. Marcy stared blindly down at her desk for a moment. Then she sprang into action. After her assurance that she wouldn’t leave until his book was finished, Simon had reinstated the ferry service. Turning her wrist, Marcy looked at the slender gold watch her father had given her as a college graduation present. She had exactly one hour and twenty-seven minutes before the ferry arrived and she had a lot to do—make plane and hotel reservations, pack…

What she wouldn’t be doing was saying goodbye to Simon.

Not only did the man not deserve the courtesy, but she was afraid the sight of him might make her resolve cave. Right now she was angry with him. But if he touched her…she wasn’t sure she’d be able to leave.

And leaving was exactly what she needed to do. She refused to let another man derail her career.

Even if he convinced her to stay, how long would he want her around? He hadn’t talked about anything permanent. And when he got tired of her, she’d find herself out on her ass yet again.

No, this was the right thing.

And if leaving without telling him goodbye made her seem catty, then that’s what she was.

15

I
T
WAS
LATE
when Simon finally looked up from his computer. He’d been sitting in front of it for ten straight hours, bothering to get up only for coffee and bathroom breaks.

But he was finished. At least with the rough draft. The end was always easier for him, the threads finally coming together in a rush sort of like a snowball rolling downhill.

And he was damn happy with it. He only hoped his agent and editor would be as pleased. Although the one person he really wanted to celebrate with was Marcy. Everyone else could wait until tomorrow.

Getting up from the desk, he listened to the whirr of the printer as it spit out the last fifty pages. He walked over to the windows, placing his hands at the small of his back and leaning into a stretch. His spine popped, a mixture of pleasure and pain as his abused muscles finally relaxed.

When had it gotten so dark? And why wasn’t Marcy here? Lately she’d been showing up late in the afternoon. And even if she quietly opened his door to check on him and silently walked back out, he always knew she was home. Her presence registered in the back of his brain.

He’d become accustomed to hearing the soft sounds of her feet as she walked through his apartments. Enjoyed the scent of whatever she was cooking for dinner as it filled the space. Sometimes knowing she was there had been so distracting that he couldn’t concentrate and soon joined her, hoping they had time for a quick reunion while something simmered. Other times he’d continued working, the comfort of knowing she was there enough to keep him relaxed and in the story.

Where was she?

Strolling through the hotel, he realized that he actually missed the hustle and bustle of when it was full. While running the place was definitely a distraction, hearing laughter and happy voices did something pleasant for his soul. He liked knowing other people were enjoying the island he’d brought back to life. Sure, there was some pride of ownership in there, too, but who could blame him?

With his book finished—ahead of when he’d expected, thanks to Marcy—he was actually looking forward to a few weeks off once everyone returned. Although it wouldn’t be long, because the first book in the series was coming out in three months and his publisher had arranged a five-city tour, ending in New York.

He wondered if he could convince Marcy to go with him, pulling up short when he realized she’d probably already be there at her new job.

A frown was pulling at the edges of his mouth when he stopped at her office. Before he even poked his head through the doorway he knew the office would be empty—there was no light shining through the door. Maybe she’d run to her bungalow to pick up a few things.

Setting out across the resort, he made it there in record time. The flutter of unease that had begun to pick up speed inside his chest diminished when he saw the light shining from her place. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to disturb him. She’d known he was close to the end.

Without knocking, he opened the door and went in. The minute he stepped inside he knew it was all wrong. There was definitely no one home. The first time he’d visited, he’d thought there was nothing of her here. He’d been wrong.

The kitchen cupboards stood wide open, bare of the handmade dishes she’d brought with her. Through the open bathroom, he could see the perfect row of bottles was missing. The rug that had been stretched across the floor, curtains, a metal lamp curved into an abstract form—all rolled, folded and stacked together in the corner.

What the hell?

Stalking through, he yanked open the closet door. The rattle of empty hangers was all that greeted him.

Gone, gone, gone.

Without even saying anything.

Anger mixed with pain, a sharp knife that was lodged in the center of his chest. He reached up and rubbed at the spot, hoping it would help. It didn’t.

He was about to storm out when a single white envelope propped against the back of the stove caught his eye. His name was scrawled across the surface in neat, precise letters.

His heart plummeted to his toes, knocking against several organs on the way down and leaving him bruised and battered from the inside.

His hands did not shake as he reached for it. They didn’t. He wouldn’t let them.

But his knees definitely wavered as he broke the seal and pulled out the single piece of white paper inside. She hadn’t even left him a handwritten note, instead typing it out on her computer as if it was nothing more than a resignation.

He walked unsteadily to the sofa and sank onto it. It was either that or sit on the floor in the middle of the kitchen, and he refused to be that pathetic.

Damn it!

Betrayal, a familiar and unpleasant sensation, welled up inside him. How could she leave without saying goodbye? And he wouldn’t even think about the promise she’d made to stay until he was finished. It obviously hadn’t meant as much to her as he’d thought.

Why did he have to fall for women who were unscrupulous and self-centered?

Even as he thought the words, he knew they weren’t true. Marcy was neither of those things. Courtney definitely deserved the label, but not Marcy. Although knowing that didn’t ease the sharp pain.

Smoothing the paper out on his knee, Simon read the letter she’d left him. There was no salutation, not even his name, just a few lines. Short, sweet, with no real emotion at all.

Mr. Bledsoe called and said they never received your letter.

Shit!
How could he have forgotten to send that? His entire body sagged back against the cushions.

I convinced them to give me another chance to interview in person, since that was their concern. I had to leave immediately to make the appointment. I left a document titled Marcy’s Job Description on my computer. My replacement should find it useful.

Marcy

The paper crumpled in his fist. The corners pinched his palm, but he didn’t care. What had he done? Obviously he hadn’t done what he’d promised her he would.

He’d been preoccupied. Wrapped up in finishing his book and spending every spare second with Marcy, milking every moment he could, knowing she’d be leaving soon.

But he’d thought he’d have time to prepare. That he wouldn’t be blindsided when she simply walked away.

And maybe that’s exactly what would have happened if he’d followed through, but he hadn’t. He’d screwed up, big-time.

But there was something he could do to fix it.

* * *

M
ARCY
WAS
BLEARY
-
EYED
and sleep deprived when she walked into the corporate offices of Rock Island Hotels. A pleasant receptionist greeted her and directed her back to Mr. Bledsoe’s office. She’d expected to be sent to a conference room full of people staring at her across a long, empty table as they drilled her with questions.

Instead, Mr. Bledsoe stood and welcomed her, asking her to sit in the chair opposite his desk. She’d seen him once on the video conference, but she had to admit he was a little more intimidating in person. He was tall—but then wasn’t everyone compared to her?—with broad shoulders, silver-and-black hair and tanned skin that helped camouflage the lines running across his face.

But his smile was genuine and friendly.

“Ms. McKinney, wonderful to finally meet you in person.”

“Marcy. Please call me Marcy,” she insisted, grasping his offered hand and shaking. “Is the interview delayed?” she asked, looking out into the hallway trying to see who else she might be speaking with.

“No, it’s actually been canceled.”

Marcy’s heart fluttered uncomfortably in her chest. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

Mr. Bledsoe sank back into his chair. Marcy followed his lead and did the same. He studied her for several seconds, his eyes quick and intelligent. Marcy shifted nervously under the scrutiny.

“I had an interesting phone call this morning at six o’clock.”

“Oh,” she said, feigning interest. What did an early call have to do with her and her interview, or lack thereof?

“It seems Mr. Reeves takes full responsibility for not sending your letter. And while I have to admit to some concern that my potential manager wouldn’t follow up on such an important detail, he assured me that you were under the impression it had been sent.”

“I’m sorry, that’s not—” Marcy tried to correct the lie that Simon had obviously told Mr. Bledsoe. All the while, her brain spun faster and faster with the realization that Simon had called this man at the crack of dawn.

Mr. Bledsoe waved his hand as if he already knew what she was going to say and didn’t care. “I’m quite impressed with the level of support and loyalty you seem to have earned from your last employer. Mr. Reeves went so far as to intimate he might have not sent the letter on purpose in a misguided attempt to keep you in your current position.”

“No, Simon would never do something like that. He’s absentminded and gets distracted easily, but he has good reason for that.”

He raised a single eyebrow and asked, “Oh?”

Marcy felt a flush move up her skin, but she refused to acknowledge it. Or elaborate. She’d already gotten close enough to Simon’s secret and no matter what else might have happened between them, she wasn’t about to betray that trust.

It was her turn to dismiss an entire topic of conversation with the flick of her wrist. “It doesn’t matter. Simon didn’t do it on purpose and you’re right, I should have followed up.”

Reaching down, she gathered the straps of the briefcase she’d brought with her and started to stand up. “I wish you had called to tell me I was no longer being considered for the position before I came all the way down here, but I suppose I understand your reasoning. I appreciate you explaining to me in person.”

She was half in and half out of her chair when Mr. Bledsoe’s words stopped her. “You’re right, you aren’t being considered for the position. It’s already yours. I canceled all the other interviews first thing this morning. I’m assuming you’ll need a few days to settle in, but I hope you can start next Monday.”

Marcy collapsed back into the chair, not caring that her posture was hardly ladylike or professional.

She stared at Mr. Bledsoe, trying to make the wheels in her brain turn again so she could process what he’d just said.

“I have the job?”

He smiled. “You have the job.”

She didn’t know what to say. She should be filled with excitement.

But she wasn’t.

Sure, she was looking forward to the challenge, to moving back to the city of her heart.

But there was something missing.

“You don’t appear pleased,” Mr. Bledsoe said in a soft, worried voice.

“No, no, I am. A little shocked is all. And terribly jet-lagged. It was a long trip.”

Marcy gathered her wits and managed to have a coherent, relatively professional conversation about the details of her new position. An hour later, she was walking back out the door. This time when she left the receptionist addressed her by name. “Welcome aboard, Ms. McKinney. We’re all looking forward to working with you.”

Marcy sent her a smile, but she knew it didn’t come anywhere close to being real.

* * *

M
ARCY
HIT
THE
GROUND
running. Finding a new apartment, settling into a new job… Before she knew it several months had passed. And while she was certainly busy, it wasn’t exactly what she’d expected.

Running the flagship hotel for the entire Rock Island Corporation was definitely challenging. And she enjoyed the moments that tested her skills and kept her on her toes.

The job wasn’t the problem. It was the hours afterward. She’d lived on her own for almost twelve years. Being alone had never bothered her. But it did now.

She missed Simon. And the resort.

More than she ever would have thought possible.

Considering she’d never really gotten attached to any particular place growing up, feeling homesick was a new experience for her. One she really didn’t know how to handle. And the bone-deep loss that accompanied it didn’t help.

It had probably taken her two weeks to realize why she was so upset. She’d let herself do the unthinkable and fall in love with Simon.

God, she was an idiot. The problem was she didn’t know what to do about it.

She couldn’t go back, not after the way she’d left. Simon would never forgive her. Besides, she might love him but she was still a little pissed off at him. True, he’d fixed the problem, but the reality was he’d made her a promise and hadn’t followed through.

Although she had to admit, if he were standing in front of her right now, she’d probably forget all that and leap into his arms.

But the main issue was still there. What would she do if she went back to Île du Coeur? She refused to work for Simon while they were lovers. She’d been there before and she wouldn’t do it again. Relationships were hard enough without throwing in business to complicate things.

And even if she didn’t have a personal history to draw from, her experiences with Simon would have been enough to make her hesitate. The last couple of weeks they’d been together might have been fairly smooth, but she had no doubt that, given time, their tempers, strong personalities and different views on how to run the resort, would have clashed again.