Seducing Her Rival (15 page)

The food, however, needed to go.

Picking up the tray and the bottle, she balanced the lot of it as she opened her door and shoved it outside; then she turned and stared at her room. Time to forget Lucas Bellamy once and for all.

She yanked her suitcase from the depths of the closet and shoved the gown, jewelry, and shoes in the very bottom then piled the rest of the things she wouldn’t need on top of it. She changed into shorts and a baggy T-shirt and then tucked her hair up under a baseball cap. Between that and skipping makeup, hopefully if she and Lucas happened to end up in the same room, he wouldn’t notice her. Then she stuffed her key card in her pocket and headed out.

After eating a breakfast that wasn’t French toast, chocolate-covered strawberries, or overpriced champagne, Mercedes hid out on the ship’s boardwalk. She disappeared into the crowd of families taking part in the “street party.” She rode the carousel and watched volunteers painting faces and making balloon animals for a couple hours—until a food fight erupted. She dove into the ice cream and popcorn fray with wild abando
n.

Once it was over, she managed to sneak back to deck twelve without incident and the hall was empty…save for a box propped by her door. She snatched it up as she went in to change clothes again, swapping the baggy T-shirt for one that didn’t hide her quite as well but also didn’t have attention-drawing chocolate sauce stains.

The box taunted her. It was a lot smaller than the one the dress had come in, but there was no doubt in her mind the same person had sent it. Just as with the gown, her fingers strayed toward the ribbon, tempted to pull it and see what he’d sent her this time.

She balled her hands into fists. No. Lucas wasn’t winning this time. She stuffed the box in her suitcase unopened. If it was worth anything, she could sell it. If not, her garbage at home was as good as the one here.

Not wanting to spend the last day cooped up in her tiny cabin, she wandered, playing a quick game of table tennis, grabbing a drink at the Rising Tide bar as soon as she verified Lucas wasn’t there, and watching a pod of dolphins race the ship. They leaped and frolicked in the ship’s wakes like they hadn’t a care in the world other than playing.

That was the moment she realized how much she missed the little apartment she shared with Kelsey. She needed laughter and joy in her life—probably why she’d been drawn to the kids today—and her best friend provided both. After the shooting, Kelsey had been the one who took care of Mercedes and assuaged her guilt as much as possible. The one who had saved Mercedes from herself when things got really dark for a while. Hell, she’d been the one who came up with the idea for Better Todays.

More than companionship, Mercedes needed Kelsey’s sanity. She debated the cell phone back in her cabin, wanting to grab it and call her best friend more than she wanted anything else right now. But in less than twenty-four hours, she’d be back in the States and wouldn’t have to worry about roaming or extra charges or staying on the line bawling her eyes out in front of five thousand people.

No. She was stronger than that and would damn well get through this last day.

Then again, when she spied Lucas at the Sand Bar, looking as if someone had kicked him in the gut, she wasn’t so sure. Her instincts screamed conflicting directions.

Run away.

Run to him.

The only thing they agreed on was that she should run. So she did, all the way down the stairs to the lowest public deck. Safely hidden, she threw on a pair of skates and slid onto the ice, teetering on the blades as she tried to remember how to move. The whole time she kept imagining what it would be like to skate in Rockefeller Center with Lucas—his hand on her waist, keeping her steady. She managed to stay in the rink for two hours before the cold and the daydreams did her in.

Twenty-one hours left.

She hid out in a dark corner of the casino for a while, feeding change into the cheapest slot she could find. When she ran out of coins, she thought of Lucas throwing one quarter in her machine and winning—and promptly deserted the casino.

Nineteen hours.

Trolling the boardwalk for last minute souvenirs took another hour, and then she spent the remainder of her shipboard credit on dinner at Johnny Rockets in order to avoid the dining room. She buried her sorrows under a mountain of greasy fries and milkshakes, leaving feeling sick, bloated, and…better.

Seventeen hours.

She snuck into the comedy show and, even with her late arrival, managed to avoid any jokes thrown her way. Unfortunately, too many of the comedians focused on relationships for her to laugh—there was nothing funny about what had gone wrong on this trip. It was all far too sad and pathetic for laughter. Wishing she could speed up time, she slunk out sixty minutes later to hunt for oblivion.

Sixteen hours.

No matter how hard she tried to enjoy herself, this last night was destined to kill her with memories of Lucas everywhere she looked. With fifteen hours left until they disembarked and she could get on with her life, she downed one last drink and headed to her cabin to pray for sleep and a world without Lucas Bellamy and conflicting emotions, only to find another four boxes propped by her door.

She kicked them into the room. After shoving the boxes into her suitcase, she called room service. Desperate for oblivion and no longer caring about the cost, she ordered a couple flights of tequila. Lucas had bought her drinks when they’d been together, but she was damn proud to do this on her own.

But even the shots might remind her fleetingly of Lucas and their first night together. Fortunately, once the liquor hit her system, it wouldn’t take long for her to forget.

And then maybe she wouldn’t dream of him while she slept.

Chapter Fourteen

Fine. It’s fine.

Lucas still had the ridiculous, useless phrase on repeat when his private jet touched down. He’d sent Mercedes five gifts on the last day of their cruise and, though none of the boxes had been returned, she never had let him say anything to her, not even good-bye.

Just fucking fine and dandy.

If she wanted to go on with her life pretending there hadn’t been anything special between them, he wasn’t going to a
rgue. He had a lif
e and a business to get back to running. And a damned school to build. He’d already called the lawyers when he was in flight, interrupting their Sundays to make sure things were in line to close this week. With the plans already drawn up, he wanted to break ground as soon as possible—whatever the cost.

Safely ensconced in the back of his limo, he pulled out his cell phone. Sighing, he poured himself a drink and put in a call to the construction manager.

After arguing for fifteen minutes about whether or not the ground would be thawed enough to pour concrete the manager said, “You can’t buy the weather unless you made some sort of deal with the devil, Luc. Stop being so damned grouchy all the time. You know my wife is convinced a woman in your life would make you a lot more likable.”

“I have women in my life, and they like me fine. I’ll call when I have a date for you to break ground.” He thumbed off the phone and poured another drink. Screw that, Lucas was very likable. He was a good guy. Supported local businesses. Donated to charity.

Hell, just days ago he donated to a fucking charity that was after the same property he was going to build Rosie’s school on. Throwing his money at the damned enemy just because they were trying to do some good. That made him more fucking likable than Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and Goddamned Mary Poppins combined.

Too bad the one woman he wanted to see it couldn’t seem to open her damn eyes.

Scowling, he pulled up his schedule in an effort to forget about Mercedes Vega and all the turmoil she’d caused. He needed to get back to his normal life. A quick scroll through the calendar made him groan. He’d completely forgotten about the museum gala next week. The very last thing he wanted was to give the local gossip column anything new to print. Better the news focus on the gala and his new school rather than the fact that, for the first time ever, he was attending an event solo. Which meant that normal life required he find a date.

Too bad that idea appealed about as much as taking a swim across the Hudson in nothing but his boxers.

And at least him entering the polar bear club would make Mercedes smile.

Shit. He needed another drink.

…

Kelsey hadn’t asked. When Mercedes walked in the door to their apartment and collapsed on the couch with a bottle of tequila and a bag of microwave popcorn, Kels had just popped an action movie in the DVD player and held her while she cried through the explosions and car chases.

The quiet lasted for about a week.

The next Sunday, Mercedes was awoken by a rain of dirty laundry pouring on her. “What the…? Kels? What are you doing?”

“Dragging your ass out o
f bed to unpack and go to the Laundromat. Your room stinks like a boys’ high school locker room and, no, we won’t get into how I know that smell so well. Just accept that the place is rank and I’m not going to let you wallow in filth and self-pity anymore. So get your ass up.”

Mercedes bitched and moaned, but then Kelsey shoved her, still dressed, into the shower. She came up for air, sputtering water and a litany of curses in Spanish.

“I love you, too, but I want to be able to breathe while we’re washing clothes. You have fifteen minutes.”

Later, as they stuffed clothes in washers, Mercedes broke down and told Kelsey everything. Angry tears burned streaks down her face as she stalked back and forth in front of the machines.

“And you still haven’t opened the boxes?” Kelsey asked, sipping her coffee.

“What?”

“You said he left you five gifts. Did you open them yet?”

“Hell no.”

Kelsey propped her chin on her hand and hmmed until the washers dove into the gyrations of the spin cycle. “Okay, Kelsey’s quack Psychology 101 says when you’re ready to be over him, you’ll open the boxes.”

“When I’m
ready
to be over him? I
am
over him. Done. Finished.” Mercedes withered beneath the gaze coming from under Kelsey’s perfectly arched eyebrows. “Okay fine. I’m not, but when does my favorite quackpot think I’ll
be
over him?”

“That’s easy.” Kelsey stood, stretched, and tossed her empty coffee cup in a garbage can ten feet to her left. It banked off the far rim and fell right into the trash. “When you get rid of all the stuff in the boxes. I’m going to go grab us some more change.”

“Great plan.” As Kelsey sauntered away, her hips swinging ever so slightly, Mercedes frowned. “Hey, don’t you still have the locket Tommy gave you for the last birthday you two were together?”

A sad smile curled the edges of Kelsey’s lips when she stopped to look back. “That’s how I know, Mercedes. That’s how I know.”

Sinking onto the wooden bench at the end of the beat up dryers, Mercedes stared at the washing machines. As they spun, she pictured the five boxes lying in a jumble on the floor of her closet. Crazy how it was so much easier to get rid of ground in grass stains than it was to erase someone from your life.

…

It took another week of melting snow and warming temperatures before the topic of Lucas Bellamy came up in the apartment again. That weekend, while poking around local news online, Mercedes happened on a photo of Lucas at some gala or party or premiere. The shot showed him on the arm of a tall blonde with a thousand-watt smile—his smile was almost as big as hers. The caption didn’t say where he was. Instead it read:
Very Eligible Bachelor Luc Bellamy and New Mystery Woman. D
oes the Secrecy Mean She’s a Keeper?

Without saying a word to Kelsey, Mercedes pushed away from the desk in their entryway, strode into her room and came out with the first box. Blowing out a breath, she untied the ribbon and pried open the lid. A pair of sparkling fire-emerald earrings shined back at her.

They were beautiful, stunning even, each stone well over a carat in size. Not horribly pricey, but not cheap either. She snapped the lid shut and tossed the box to Kelsey. “Item number one for that auction we talked about.”

Then she disappeared into her room for the night.

A week later, another picture of the happy couple showed up, and the second box landed on Kelsey’s lap—still tied shut. Kels wrinkled her nose and opened the lid. “Uh. I don’t think we can auction this.”

Mercedes spared a glance over her shoulder. A withered and moldy strawberry dangled from Kelsey’s fingers, bits of chocolate flaking from its surface. “Toss it.”

The pile in her closet dwindled further the next week. This time she made sure to open the box first—and prayed nothing had died in it. Pieces of delicate white lace ran through her fingers. Where the hell had he even found something like this? No. It didn’t matter. Screwing up her courage, she strode to Kelsey and handed the nightie over. “It’s probably La Perla or something pricey. Sell it.”

Kelsey had been right. Ridding herself of each box made her feel stronger. She stared at the last two on the closet floor—right next to the bag containing her dress, shoes, and jewelry.

“No time like the present.”

She bent to pick up the bag but drew her fingers back at the last second as she recalled her night as a princess. Damn it. She wasn’t that strong yet.

Huffing out a breath, she stood and shut the door.

Soon.

The week wasn’t even out when she had to run an errand that took her by the property—or at least close enough she decided to punish herself by walking past. Construction equipment had already torn the hell out of it, the warmer weather making it the perfect time to clear away the debris and erect a fence to get the place ready to build. A sign on it read
Rosie Michaels School of Fine Arts now enrolling for fall!

She didn’t bother reading the phone number or any of the other information. Her dream was now another haven for the wealthy. A single tear carved a path down her cheek before she shook off the pain and made her way home. He might have won this fight, but he was
not
going to beat her.

At the apartment, she stormed into her room, grabbing the bag and the next box. She threw the bag onto the couch next to Kelsey as she tore open the box. “The clothes probably cost more than our rent for a month, maybe two. And this—” She pulled the statue from the box—a tiny replica of the ruins of Tulum, where they’d spent much of their time in Cozumel. Her heart clenched around the emptiness there, searching for feeling, for freedom. “Is pretty much worthless, but see what you can do with it. I don’t want it.”

One box left.

And another weekend with another picture of Lucas and the gorgeous blonde had her pulling it from the depths of her closet. She had the ribbon torn free and was on her way to Kelsey’s room when the lid slid off and the contents spilled to the floor in a bright blue puddle.

She bit her lip hard enough she tasted blood.

Then she picked up the T-shirt from the floor, holding it in front of her. Even a month later, she recognized it instantly: the stupid fifty-dollar shirt he bought when they met. Without thinking, she brought it to her face and sucked in the faded hints of cologne.

It even smelled like him.

She collapsed onto the floor and sobbed.

The box made it into the trash, and Kelsey didn’t say a word about the contents. The shirt somehow found its way under Mercedes’s pillow.