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Authors: Christine Wenger

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BOOK: The Tycoon's Perfect Match
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He pulled her down to the new spring grass blanketed with mist. He studied her face, cupped her cheek with his hand. She was his Marigold. His beautiful flower.

He loved her. He probably always had loved her, and he'd picked a damn fine time to realize that—now, when he was about to leave.

But they were at opposite ends of the spectrum. Right now, he and Mari wanted different things.

He pushed all that from his mind. He couldn't wait to feel her soft, warm skin against his. Moving her to his side, he pulled up her T-shirt and tossed it. He pushed up her bra and kissed her perfect breasts, playing with her nipples with his tongue.

He quickly got rid of the rest of his clothes, found a condom in his wallet and said a quick prayer that no one else would be visiting the falls this early in the season.

With the sound of the water roaring in his ears and the heat of the sun on his back, he made slow, seductive love to Mari. And when he entered her and finally let himself go, he knew this was the woman he'd been waiting for his whole life.

And the woman he was going to leave behind—again.

Chapter Twelve

T
hey said their goodbyes at the parking lot by the trailhead.

“Do you want to meet me for dinner later?” he asked. “I have to make a quick stop at the office to pick up some paperwork, and then drive to Thendara—the buyers want to do a final inspection on a property—but it shouldn't take me more than three hours, if everything goes as planned,” he said. “I'll call you when I'm done.”

“I'd love to. I'll meet you at Aunt Betty's Pancake House.”

Mari drove back to Sherwood Lodge, thinking about her wonderful afternoon with Brian. It had been so romantic—a picnic by the waterfalls, a nice talk with him, so that they straightened things out between them, and then they made love. And as the sun made a rainbow over the falls, Mari knew without a doubt that she loved Brian.

This would be the place that she'd love to raise her children. But that wasn't going to happen.

A heaviness descended on her heart. Could she live in Hawk's Lake without Brian?

It wouldn't be the same.

She'd spent a lot of energy trying to keep her distance from him on this vacation. She wished she could have that time back, since she didn't have much time left.

Mari heard the phone ringing inside the cottage just as she got out of the van. It couldn't be Brian. He wasn't even near Thendara yet, unless he'd stopped at a pay phone to call her.

The faster she struggled to open the door, the more she fumbled. Finally, she was inside and running to the kitchen.

“Hello.”

“Marigold, it's your mother. I have something to tell you.” She took a breath. “Your father had a heart
attack. He just had a quadruple bypass, and he made it through just fine. I would have called you sooner, but everything happened so fast.”

Her mother's news didn't quite register. Tom Sherwood had such vigor and energy that no one could keep up with him.

“Will he be okay?” Mari asked, her voice cracking.

“The doctor is optimistic. Since your father…”

Her mother was crying. Her mother never cried. Mari could tell that she was trying to control herself.

“Since your father is in otherwise good shape.”

“I'm coming home, Mom. It'll only take me a few hours. Don't worry about Dad. He'll be fine.” Mari didn't know what else to say. “Where is he now?”

“In recovery. Then he'll be moved to cardiac care. I know he'll be okay.” Her mother's voice quivered. “But he looked so sick…so helpless. And I'm not used to seeing him that way.”

“Is Grandma with you?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you?”

“At Beacon of Light Hospital on Fourth Street, in the waiting room of the cardiac care unit.” She could hear her mother talking to someone, but couldn't make out the words. “I have to go now, Mari. The doctor is here.”

“Okay, I'll call you as soon as I'm able to get reception on my cell phone.”

“Drive carefully, Mari.”

She heard a click, and Mari stood in the kitchen, surrounded by darkness and silence, deciding that she wouldn't panic, couldn't panic.

She ran upstairs, slipped into jeans and pulled a sweatshirt on. Grabbing a jacket and her purse, she turned off all the lights and locked the cottage behind her. On the side porch, she pulled the plug on her pottery wheel and locked the door of the porch. Running to the boathouse, she pulled the plug on her kiln. Then she ran to the van.

Dialing Brian on her cell phone, she hoped against hope that she could get him. She couldn't.

Driving as fast as she dared, she steered the van down the dark, curvy road that ran behind the cottages and onto Route 28. She had to drive by his real-estate office. Maybe she could catch him there. More likely, she'd just leave him a note that she was going home and that she'd return as soon as her father was stable.

It was difficult to concentrate on the narrow, twisting mountain road, but she didn't want to run off the road like the busload of senior tourists.

The lights weren't on in the office, but the lights
were on upstairs. She rang the doorbell. After a few seconds, she heard a window open above her.

“Hello? Who's there?” It was Mrs. Newley.

Mari ran down the porch steps and looked up. “It's Marigold Sherwood, Mrs. Newley. I'm so sorry to bother you, but it's a bit of an emergency. I'd like to leave a note for Brian. Can I come in?”

“Sure. I'll be right down.”

The lights went on and the door opened.

“Is everything all right, dear?”

“No, I have to go home to Boston. My father had a heart attack and just had emergency surgery. I'd like to leave Brian some phone numbers where I can be reached.”

“I'm sure your father will be fine. Try not to worry too much.” She waved Mari on. “Go leave a note on his desk. The light switch is on the wall. Can I make you something for the road, Mari? It's a long ride.”

“I'm fine. But would you mind trying to find Brian and telling him where I've gone? I was supposed to meet him for dinner at Aunt Betty's, but I have to leave, and—”

“I'll let him know, Mari.”

Mari turned the light on in Brian's office and couldn't believe the mess. Folders and papers were
stacked everywhere and the stacks tipped at precarious angles. Some had already hit the floor. Others were ready to slide like an avalanche onto a new location. Pink message forms were scattered like confetti.

His office was a dump.

In spite of worrying about her father, she felt a tiny tinge of satisfaction. Obviously, Brian wasn't as in control as he made himself out to be.

She flipped the pages on a yellow tablet to a clean page, grabbed a pen from the cup on his desk and wrote a quick note.

She listed the numbers for her apartment, her office and her cell. Taking the keys out of her pocket, she set them on her note. Then a piece of paper caught her eye—a letter addressed to her parents. With shaking hands, she picked it up and skimmed it.

I'd like to apply for the position of CEO…resumé is attached…happy to appear for a personal interview…thank you for…

His resumé was on his desk, too, and it looked like everything was ready to be mailed.

There it was in black and white. He was applying for her job. He probably couldn't wait to get back to his office and write that letter. No wonder he
kept asking her if she was going to take the job—he wanted to get a jump on the competition.

Her heart constricted painfully. After all his talk that he only wanted
her…

He'd lied.

And here she'd been, hoping that he'd give up his dream and that they could build something great together. But it didn't look like Brian was ready—or that he'd ever be ready.

He was just another corporate climber.

Tears stung her eyes as she stuffed both documents into her purse. With one look back at his desk, she left.

 

Is this closing ever going to end?

Brian secretively looked at his watch as the three sisters who were buying the old ski shop checked the bank's figures on a calculator the size of a credit card.

They planned on turning the building into a Christmas store and living above it in a small apartment. They were very nice ladies, probably in their mid fifties or early sixties, and would be a nice asset to Hawk's Lake. Two were widows, and one said she was “still looking for a very rich man.”

Finally, everything was signed, checks were written and keys were distributed.

When they started measuring for curtains, Brian said his goodbyes and stopped at a gas station to call Mari. No answer.

Maybe she was in the boathouse doing something with her pottery.

He headed north on Route 28. Along the way, he stopped at a pay phone at the driveway leading to the Hemlock Acres Campground and called again. Still no answer.

Back on the road, he didn't stop again until he was at Aunt Betty's. He used the pay phone inside the restaurant. No answer again.

He sat at a table, tapping his fingers, getting more worried with each passing minute of their ridiculous moose clock. Mari knew he was going to call. Where could she be?

What should he do? He waited for what seemed like an eternity and called again. Nothing.

He decided to drive out to Sherwood Lodge to check on her.

Dammit. He was going to work day and night to make sure that a cell tower was installed in these mountains and that it would be able to transmit to every nook and cranny of Hawk's Lake. Then he'd work on service to the entire Adirondack Preserve.

Suddenly, he almost couldn't breathe, couldn't
swallow. Mari was right—Hawk's Lake
was
like his own personal corporation.

He could do whatever he wanted to improve the place in which he grew up. He could make the cell tower happen, make anything happen, just like he always had.

Just this afternoon she'd pointed out that he'd already achieved his dream. It hadn't sunk in then. It took something like no cell phone service to wake him up and make him realize that she was absolutely right.

Or was it because he couldn't connect with the person who had come to mean the most to him? The woman he loved. The woman he'd
always
loved.

And he was worried sick about her. Why didn't she answer?

Sherwood Lodge was in sight now. It was completely dark and Mari's van was gone.

Where could she be?

With his heart pounding, he drove right onto the lawn and up to the side door of Sherwood Lodge. He found the extra key that he had hidden and opened the door. She wasn't on the porch.

He opened the inside door. “Mari? Mari!”

Turning on lights, he raced from one room to another, then took off across the lawn to check the
boathouse. But that, too, was empty, and he noticed that her kiln was unplugged.

Puzzled, Brian slumped into a chair. Just as he was about to call the police, the phone rang in the kitchen.

He answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Brian, thank goodness I found you. I've been trying everywhere and thought you might be there.”

“Mrs. Newley? What's wrong? Do you know—”

“Mari's father had a heart attack. He's had emergency bypass surgery. That's all I know. Mari's gone back home, but she left you a note on your desk.”

Relief washed over him. Surrounded by Mari's pottery, he thought about how much he'd looked forward to being with her this evening. He said a quick prayer that she'd be okay driving alone throughout the night.

She had to be exhausted. He wished he could call her—to hear her voice and to reassure her that her father would be fine. At least, he hoped that would be the case.

And he hoped that he and Mari would be able to work things through—together.

Chapter Thirteen

T
he gas gauge was near empty, so Mari finally pulled into a service station to fill up her tank.

She called her mother's cell phone, then realized that if she was at the hospital her phone was probably turned off due to regulations. She left a message.

She wanted to call Brian, too, but then remembered the papers in her purse. As much as it hurt her to admit, Brian didn't love her. He'd wanted her job—not her—all along.

It was a bad time to tell her parents that she was
definitely going to resign from Sherwood Enterprises and move to Hawk's Lake. She needed to postpone her news until her father's crisis was over.

The gas pump clicked off and Mari capped the tank and paid the cashier. After buying a bottle of water from the soda machine, she was back on the road. She hoped to arrive in Boston at about three o'clock in the morning.

Twenty miles from the Massachusetts border, doubts began to sneak in. Maybe Brian hadn't tried to use her to get a jump on her job. Maybe she was just blowing things out of proportion.

He'd admitted he was applying at several places, but still, he'd never mentioned Sherwood as one of them. Why not?

Mari reached down and found a radio station. The blast of hard rock filled the car. She cranked up the volume.

Damn. She needed to stop questioning her instincts. She knew what Brian was up to. She'd seen the evidence with her own eyes. Now it was in her purse. And he'd even promised not to tip off her parents until she had a chance to talk with them. Obviously Brian was no better than any of the other men who had used her to carve out a career for themselves.

Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel until her hands ached.

Reaching down, she scanned the channels until she found a classical station. The sweet, calming notes slid out of the speakers and slowed the hard, angry beat of her heart.

Her hands relaxed and her shoulders loosened. A deep breath slipped from between her lips.

What was she doing to herself? Every thought of Brian was tying her into a thousand knots.

Turquoise eyes that were full of concern flashed into her consciousness. How could she dismiss the care she'd seen in his eyes—on his face—when they'd made love?

Who was she to say that all those things meant nothing—that they were a lie? She couldn't—wouldn't—believe that.

But what more evidence did she need?

Anger flared again. She changed the station back to rock as she pushed Brian out of her thoughts and out of her life. He didn't warrant one more second of her time. She needed to forget him—for good.

 

Brian woke up when he heard voices in the main part of Hawkins's Garage. He remembered putting
his head down on the desk, just to rest his eyes, but he must have dozed off.

He checked the clock—seven in the morning.

He was hoping that Mari would call. But he hadn't heard from her. She must have been busy with her father.

Brian got up, stretched and headed to the men's room. When he returned, Melanie and Jack were there. Melanie was sitting at his desk. Jack was on the other side, leaning back with his feet up. The smell of coffee permeated the air, and he helped himself from the pot.

Melanie grinned at him. “Look what the cat wouldn't even drag in. The cat probably didn't recognize you without your suit on.”

“I knew there was a reason why I didn't recognize you.” Jack snapped his fingers. “You must be cleaning the village sewers or something today.” Then he rubbed his chin. “Naw. You'd wear your suit for that.”

Brian collapsed in a chair next to Jack. “Okay, have your fun.”

Melanie took a sip of coffee. “We wouldn't dream of picking on you. You might leave more work for us to do.” She looked over Jack's shoulder. “How's Mari?”

“I don't really know. She had to go home. Her father had a heart attack.”

Melanie closed her eyes. “Oh, no. Is he okay?”

“I don't know for sure. He had emergency surgery.”

“Give her our best,” Melanie said.

“I will,” Brian said. “When I see her.” He was quiet for a minute. “You know, I miss her. Mari hasn't been gone twenty-four hours yet, and I miss her.”

“So why aren't you in Boston at her side?” Melanie asked.

“It's complicated.”

“So make it simple,” Jack said.

“She's going to quit her family's company and live in Hawk's Lake,” Brian said.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “So far, I don't see a problem.”

“I've always wanted to leave Hawk's Lake—it's always been my dream. I was going to ask Mari to put in a good word for me with her parents—maybe put me in the running for the CEO job. If that didn't work out, I thought I'd try to go back to my old job at the brokerage.” He rubbed his forehead. “But now I don't know.” He looked at Jack, then at Melanie. Neither of them was reacting. “Mari complicated everything.”

“That you weren't happy here is news to me, Brian,” Melanie said. “Why didn't you go back?”

“News to me, too,” Jack echoed. “Why didn't you ever tell us?”

Brian couldn't believe they were so clueless. “Oh, come on. I couldn't leave. There was one thing after another to deal with, and everything always fell to me. Melanie, you had problems. We did two expansions on the garage. The books were a mess. Jack, you were never here to take care of anything. I
had
to stay.”

Melanie and Jack looked at each other. They were obviously puzzled.

What didn't they get?

Melanie was the first to speak. “Brian, you could have left anytime you wanted. No one kept you here. We would have gotten things done, somehow, without you.”

Jack nodded. “If you'd ever told me how you felt, I would have stopped racing and would have been here.”

Melanie's shoulders slumped. “I never knew you were unhappy, Brian. I was caught up in my own problems, for sure—with Mike's death and taking care of Kyle—but you never seemed like you were in a hurry to go back to New York City. Matter of fact, you seemed to make excuses
not
to go back.”

Brian's head was reeling. Were they right? Had he made excuses not to go back?

He stared at his coffee as if the answer was waiting for him at the bottom of the cup, the answer that would straighten out his whole life.

“You love her, don't you?” Melanie asked.

Brian was shocked. “H-How did you know?”

“You've
always
loved her, Bri.” Melanie looked astonished that he'd even ask such an inane question. “Have you told her how you feel?”

“Uh…no. Not yet.”

“Do you think that would be something she'd want to know?” Melanie asked, eyes wide. “I certainly would!”

“Get going,” Jack said. “Don't think for once, Brian. Don't tally up the columns. Just hop in your car, buckle up and go. And don't speed.”

Melanie stood. “And don't worry about a thing here. That's what family is for.”

They walked him to his car, kissed and hugged him and wished him well.

He turned onto the highway and headed to Boston.

BOOK: The Tycoon's Perfect Match
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