“He’s in the shower now,” Abby said, feeling a twinge of discomfort at the intimacy of the statement.
“I’ll have him call you back as soon as he’s out.”
She hung up, then stood watching the phone for several minutes, as if she expected it to leap up and bite her. Until this moment, she hadn’t admitted to herself, much less to anyone else, that she was in love with Lord Matthew Smythe, the earl of Brighton, president of a multimillion-dollar company. Until this moment, she hadn’t acknowledged how quickly and completely she’d become sucked into his world. Or how much of her heart he occupied. To think of sleeping in a bed alone, without Matt beside her, seemed unbearable. To consider sitting down to a table for breakfast without first pouring him a cup of coffee, felt somehow illogical. To forget his touch on her body would be tragic.
She was in deep trouble.
Matt felt free of the world. It was a strange and new sensation. He simply didn’t care about anything except being with Abby, he realized as he stood in the shower.
Each day, they had chosen one of a dozen remote coves ringing the island. They held hands, swam and kissed. They’d taken a glass-bottom boat cruise and marveled at the silvery grunts and blue parrot fish skittering in and out of the reefs. Each evening, he’d dismissed his staff early. They dined alone on the veranda in the moonlight, then made love in the high-walled garden amidst the intoxicating perfume of bougainvillea, hibiscus, and delicate purple Bermudiana blossoms.
She was all he longed for in those days.
For once in his life, he wanted to play. He fought being pulled back into the hectic business world and did not return Paula’s calls.
When Matt’s guests had arrived at the end of the first week, he’d been forced to let them into the world he and Abby shared. He’d gone through the gracious motions of entertaining. But across the room, glances were exchanged, desire grew. When he was at last alone with Abby, he’d flung himself at her hungrily, taking her with fierce possessiveness.
Now his thoughts were abruptly ended by the sound of Abby’s voice.
“Paula says it’s an emergency, Matt. You really do have to talk to her.”
He grumbled and kissed Abby on the smooth curve of her throat as he took the receiver from her. “There’s nothing that can’t wait until we get back to Chicago,” he barked into the phone.
“Wrong,” Paula snapped. “Joseph Cooper has stolen two of your best clients. I’ve been trying to tell you they wanted to speak with you personally before turning over their American accounts to him. But when you stayed in hiding, they were offended. It looks as if they’re going to break their contracts with us.”
He scowled into space, feeling the old aggressiveness begin to seep back into his veins. “Is that so?”
“I’m glad you’re taking some time to…” Paula hesitated. “…to relax. But if you don’t come back soon, Matthew, you may not have a company to come back to.”
He hung up, feeling numb and unsure of himself. He looked at Abby.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.
“Time to go back to the real world.” Even as he said the words, he sensed a subtle change in his mindset. The real world was in Chicago. Bermuda had been a kind of fantasy, hadn’t it? Here, nothing mattered except making love with a beautiful woman, watching her smile, listening to her laugh, taking her into his arms each night. Real life wasn’t that easy, or pleasant.
Abby studied his expression then gave him a wary smile. “I love this place. Will we be able to come back soon?”
He wasn’t sure whether she was talking about Bermuda, or the intimacy they’d shared. Weren’t they one and the same? He wondered if it was possible to take what they had found together back into the life he’d known before she walked into it. Sadly, he thought it unlikely.
“We’ll see,” he murmured, turning away. Outside the window, sailboats drifted across an aquamarine cove. The sky was that vivid, almost surreal blue he had seen only above tropical islands. “Better pack.”
The flight back to New York was cloaked in tension. If Abby hadn’t known better she would have said that the man sitting beside her on the jet was a stranger. They spoke only a few words during the flight to New York, then transferred to a plane destined for O’Hare. They arrived a little after 8:00 p.m. that same night. A few thousand miles of traveling seemed to have transported her light years away from the man who had made love to her amid lush flowers and the whistling of the tree frogs.
By the time the limo picked them up at the airport, Abby was feeling nauseous, her head throbbed, and she carried with her a sense of deep loss.
“Can you be at the office by nine tomorrow morning?” Matt asked when the car rolled up in front of her apartment.
She turned on the seat to stare at him in disbelief.
“What?” he asked.
The driver came around to open the door for her. She ignored him. “What are we doing, Matt?”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.” But she could see a nervous glint of recognition in his eyes as he carefully directed them away from hers.
She persisted. “I’m still the same person I was this morning in Bermuda. You are, too.” She leaned closer to him, an urgent pressure building in her chest. “I know you’re a dedicated workaholic, but what happens to us now? We have to talk.”
“This isn’t the time.” He made a show of consulting his watch. “I have fences to mend, if it isn’t already too late.”
She understood he was upset to be losing clients. But she suddenly felt left out, and her hurt turned to anger. Tugging the door out of the driver’s hand, she slammed it closed, shutting herself inside the limo with Matt. “I believed the lessons ended the first night we made love. After that, everything between us happened because we shared the same affection for each other.” Tears clogged her throat, making it far too difficult to speak.
Matt’s features hardened. When he at last turned back to her, she couldn’t bear the silent message his eyes sent: We both knew it wasn’t going to last. Overcome with disappointment, Abby slid out of the car and ran for the door to her apartment house. The chauffeur followed with her luggage and insisted on bringing it up to her apartment.
She barely managed to shut the door behind him before she lost control. Why had she made such a fool of herself? The tender glances, passionate touches, shared laughter and intimate embraces—they had meant nothing to him. But to her they had been a beautiful promise.
Abby threw herself onto her bed and wept her heart out. She was grateful Dee was out for the night. She couldn’t have tolerated anyone seeing her in this condition.
By morning’s first light Abby had cried herself out. She sat up in bed, blew her nose, and reviewed her situation with a clear mind.
She had two immediate choices. She could either admit her fragility and resign from the ideal job. Or she must somehow find the strength to face Matt every day as they worked together.
She washed away the salty tear tracks from her cheeks with cool water, brewed herself a tall mug of dark-roasted coffee, did a load of laundry. By the time she was dressed in business clothes, she was ready to go head-to-head with her boss. She wasn’t going to let any man destroy her—not a runaway fiancé, not a playboy aristocrat. To hell with them all!
Nine
Matt dreaded the next morning. The way he’d treated Abby the night before was inexcusable; but he would have to face her today.
He hadn’t meant to hurt her, hadn’t stopped to think during those miraculous weeks in Bermuda that it had been more than just having fun to her. He was her first, and that was bound to be special for a woman like Abby. She had cherished her body, saving herself for one special man. He had used her. He knew he was unworthy. He just hoped he could make it up to her in some small way.
How he might do that, though, he didn’t have a clue. Most of the night he’d lain awake thinking about them. He had never intended to cut off their relationship on leaving the island. It was ju
st that he was preoccupied with Paula’s message. Her call had awakened him from a blissful dream drenched in sunshine and loving embraces. She had forced him to remember the real world. The world of high-stakes business deals, seven-figure contracts and soaring revenues. He had to concentrate on his battle plans for winning back his clients, or his entire empire might come tumbling down.
But what about Abby? How did she fit into these plans?
Until a few hours ago, he hadn’t known how to handle her as a lover, outside of their Bermuda paradise. But after a long night’s thoughts, he felt he had a tentative grip on the touchy situation. He strode into headquarters with a renewed air of assurance.
Paula looked up from her desk in the reception area. “Good morning, Lord Smythe.”
“Morning,” he returned, driving toward his office with purpose. “Tell Abigail, when she gets in, I want to see her in my office.”
“She’s in, sir.”
He stopped in his tracks, looked at his watch. “It’s only eight-thirty.”
“Yes, sir. She was here when I arrived, twenty minutes ago.”
He hesitated. “How did she look?”
“Tanned,” Paula answered dryly. She wasn’t smiling. He suddenly felt in the dangerous position of being trapped between two angry women. But maybe not…
“Is she, um…, in a good mood?” Her early appearance might mean that she’d forgiven him. That would make things so much easier.
“I’m in a great mood!” a chipper voice hit him from behind. “Why shouldn’t I be? Twenty-one days on a tropical island, soaking up sunbeams, swimming with the fishies…”
Matt spun around to stare at a different Abby than the one he’d left in tears the night before. She had bravely pulled herself together and was putting on a great show of perkiness and goodwill. Either that, or she hadn’t fallen for him as hard as he’d imagined. Was he that easy to forget?
She wore a smart forest-green suit that set off her red hair. Her eyes were bright and clear—their usual chocolate hue. She’d styled her hair differently, pulling it back from her face and up in a loose, tumbly sort of arrangement that did magical things to the long line of her neck. He could have devoured her on the spot.
All notions of business flew from his mind.
“Oh good. You’re here.” He coughed into his hand to clear the annoying roughness from his throat. “Can you spare a few minutes?” He held open his office door for her.
She breezed past him with a carefree, “Thank you,” as if he were the doorman. He closed the door behind them and turned. She was already seated across from his desk, her notepad and pen in ready position.
“Abby, you don’t have to—”
She looked up at him innocently, and all he could remember was that same look as he moved his body over hers the first time they’d made love.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I never meant to hurt you or mislead you. And if you think I’m dumping you, that’s not true.”
“It’s not? I certainly got that impression last night.”
“I didn’t have my head together, hadn’t had time to work things out for us.”
“For us?” Her tone caught him off guard. “But now you have? You have made decisions about our relationship…for both of us.”
“Ye-e-es,” he said slowly, watching her expression with caution.
She set her pad and pen on the chair beside her and looked up at him, her hands folded easily on her knee. “And?”
He sat on the corner of his desk and concentrated on the speech that had cost him a night’s sleep. “I want us to stay together,” he began.
She blinked up at him, but he couldn’t tell if she was surprised or just didn’t believe him. “Really.”
“Yes, but not at work,” he continued before she could voice the flood of questions he could see rising inside of her. “That wouldn’t be comfortable for either of us. Before long, the whole company would have figured out that we were lovers.”
“What about my job?” Abby rose up out of her seat, her eyes darkening to a shade he didn’t remember. A dangerous hue. “You promised.”
“I’m going to offer you something better.” He smiled, imagining how pleased she would be once she understood. He reached for her hand and seized it before she could back away. “If you agree to resign from Smythe International, I’ll set you up in your own shop here in Chicago. Your severance pay will cover the down payment, and I’ll give you a zero-interest loan for the rest, with no obligation to pay it back if you can’t. And so we can spend time together without worrying about who knows about us, I’ll move you into a new condo a few blocks from here and cover the rent. What do you think?”
Abby gave him a long, cool look. “What do I think? I’m insulted.”
“Abby—” Panic rushed through him. “You don’t understand. I’m handing you your dream. The money to open your own business…a long-term relationship that I’ve never given another woman.” He couldn’t offer her more than that. And surely she shouldn’t expect it.
She pulled her hand free of his. “What do you expect me to say, Matt? I want to be an independent woman with a husband and family in my future. You propose to keep me as your mistress.”
He groaned. “It’s not like that at all.”
“It is like that, exactly,” she said, pacing in front of him. “How can you be so self-centered? You want me handy for an intimate night, but not underfoot. You don’t want your employees gossiping about their boss’s affair with his hostess, even though that’s the image you wanted to give your clients because it was convenient and helped your sales pitch.”
“Abby, none of this is the point.”
“What about your point that I was aiming low by limiting my goals to a little coffee shop in Chicago? What about my learning the business and thinking international?”
“You could still do that, if you wanted,” he said quietly, feeling he’d somehow lost control of the negotiations.
“But you’d prefer I stay where you can find me and you want to continue sleeping with me with no strings attached.” She glared at him in challenge. He’d never seen her so vibrant, so quick with thought and word. She made him furious. He wanted to argue with her some more. He felt hot and excited.
“What man wouldn’t want to sleep with you?” He gave her a calculatedly wicked smile.
It didn’t work. She chilled him with an icy glare, then her expression mysteriously shifted. “I received a phone call last night, from my former fiancé.”
Matt frowned. “Oh?”
“He’s been trying to get in touch with me and left messages on my machine while I was away. He wants to see me.”
“And you will tell him you don’t want to, of course.”
She shook her head. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“What?” An emotion purely male, hostile, and possessive seized him by the throat. The muscles of his abdomen clenched at the image of Abby in the arms of another man. “If you’re trying to make me jealous—”
“I know that wouldn’t work, and I wouldn’t stoop that low anyway,” she said quickly. “But hearing from Richard made me think about why you and I first became intimate. I still want to be married some day, Matt. But that can’t happen if I’m locked into a relationship with you.”
With an intuitive flash he understood. Abby wasn’t the sort of woman to emotionally or physically hold back part of herself for the next man to come along. If she was involved with him, she would stop looking for that husband of her girlhood dreams. They would stay together for a year…two…five…maybe longer. But when it ended she’d be right back where she’d started, without a husband—although she’d have a business of her own. Now he understood the fine line her heart had drawn. She would not surrender that part of her dream for him.
He heard himself give up a bitter laugh. “I thought I was the one who would have to pry myself loose from the naïve young woman.”
“Life is full of surprises.”
> He shot a look at her, but there was no harshness or triumph in her expression. “Yes,” he murmured. “Surprises.” He took a deep breath. “If you won’t accept the condo or the coffee shop, what will you do?”
“Work for Smythe International…if you’ll allow me to stay.”
He frowned. “Abby, do you really think that’s wise? We’d see a lot of each other, and that’s going to be painful for both of us.”
“I enjoyed sleeping with you. But now that our affair is over, I can deal with it.” Her voice was a mere whisper. It tantalized him, summoning memories almost too sweet to savor, now that he knew they would never be more than memories. “I love my job, the people who work with me, and all that I’m learning about this business. Why should I give up all these things just because we didn’t work out.”
But we did work out! he wanted to shout. We were perfect together!
However he couldn’t say those words out loud. It was clear her view of a successful relationship was different from his. Marriage wasn’t on his agenda.
“I’d value your help if you do stay,” he said in a controlled voice, letting his eyes drift down her slim green suit then up again, recalling the soft curves underneath that produced that lovely silhouette.
“You’re sure about this?”
“I know what I want,” she said confidently, her eyes sparkling in a way that all but did him in.
Abby walked out of Matt’s office, chin raised, eyes dry, her self-esteem up two notches…even though her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Paula shot a quick look to see that her boss’s door was closed. “How’d it go?” she whispered.
Abby shrugged. “He doesn’t know what hit him.”
Paula winked. “Go, girl. I told you—as long as you show no fear and stand by your guns, he can’t bully or intimidate.”
It wasn’t the possibility of intimidation Abby feared. It was the danger of being seduced again by the steamy look in Matt’s eyes when he wanted her. She hoped with all her heart that she would be strong enough to resist when they were forced to work late into the nights or traveled together.
The American Earl (Elbia Series Book 4) Page 11
