by Susan Meier
He laughed. “So she was a jelly maker.”
“And she loved to can her own spaghetti sauce.” Missy sighed. “She was such a bright spot in my life.”
“My gram was, too. That’s why I moved her down to Florida with us.”
“So what do you have down there to fit all these people? A mansion?”
He laughed again. “No one lives with me. I got my gram a town house and my parents have a house near mine on the Gulf.”
“Sounds nice.”
He glanced over. Usually when he told someone he had a house on the Gulf, they oohed and ahhed. She seemed happy for him, but not really impressed. “It’s a six-thousand-square-foot mansion with walls of windows to take advantage of the view.”
She winced. “You’re lucky you can afford to hire someone to clean that.”
His gaze winged over to her. Was she always so practical? “I don’t get it very dirty.”
“Was that the house you shared with your wife?”
“She got the big house.”
Missy gaped at him. “She didn’t think six thousand square feet was good enough?”
“She didn’t think anything was good enough.” He stopped himself. Since when did he talk about Betsy? About his marriage?
Missy shrugged. “Makes sense.”
Cautious, but curious, because to him nothing about Betsy made sense, he said, “What makes sense?”
“That you divorced. It sounds like you had two different ideas of what you wanted.”
He’d never thought of it that way. “I guess we did.”
“So what was she like?”
“Tall, pretty.” The words were out before he even thought to stop them. “She’d been a pageant girl.”
“Oh, very pretty then.”
He laughed. “Why are you asking questions about my ex?”
Missy caught his gaze. “Scoping out the competition.”
He choked on his wine. “The competition?”
“Yeah. I like you.” She said it naturally, easily, as if it didn’t make any difference in the world. “I really like you. And I don’t want to find out what to do or not do to get you to like me. I’m just trying to figure out what makes you you.”
He set his wineglass down on the table. “Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’ve already been over this. My ex did a number on me. Even if I wasn’t only a month out of a divorce, I wouldn’t want to get involved again.”
“It might be a month since you divorced, but if you fought over the settlement for four years, you haven’t been married for four years.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You keep saying you’ve only been divorced a month, but you’ve been out of your relationship a lot longer.” She took a sip of wine. “Have you dated?”
His eyebrows rose. “I was separated. I was allowed to date.”
“I’m not criticizing. I’m just helping you to understand something.” She paused with a gasp. “Hey, look at this!”
The enthusiasm in her voice drew his gaze. She held up a small round thing with a woman’s face on it.
She beamed. “It’s a cameo.”
He cautiously said, “That’s good?”
“Not only does it look really old, but it’s clear it was expensive.” She examined it. “Wow.”
He scrambled over. “What else is in that box?”
She rose, taking the box with her, and sat on the bed.
He sat beside her.
She pulled out matching combs. “These are hair combs.” She studied them. “They’re so pretty.”
He reached in and retrieved a delicate necklace. Reddish stones and silver dominated the piece. “No wonder my mom wanted them.”
“Yeah.”
Missy’s voice trembled on the one simple word, and even though she hadn’t said it, he knew what troubled her. He set the necklace back in the box, as sadness overwhelmed him, too. “So. I found what I came for.”
“Yeah. You did.”
And now he could go home.
Silence settled over them. Then he peeked at her and she peeked at him. He’d never see her again. Oh, tomorrow morning after he packed, he’d walk over and say goodbye to her and the kids. But this was the very last time they’d be alone together. Once he returned to Florida, he wasn’t coming back. He had a life that didn’t include her, and in that life he wasn’t this normal, selfless guy she was falling in love with. He was a bossy, moody, selfish businessman who now had to deal with an ex-wife who owned one-third of his company. She might not have controlling interest, but she had enough of a say to make his life miserable.
And he wouldn’t waste the ten or so minutes he had with the genuinely kind, selfless woman sitting beside him, by thinking about his bad marriage.
Though Missy had paid him back for the kiss they should have had graduation night, he bent and brushed his lips across hers. He went to pull back, but she caught him around the neck and kept him where he was, answering his kiss with one that was so soft and sweet, his chest tightened.
When her tongue peeked out and swiped across his lips, his control slipped. This was the one person he’d felt connected to since he was a geek and she was a prom queen. For once, just once, he wanted to feel what it would be like to be hers. He took over the kiss, and suddenly they were both as greedy as he’d always wanted to be.
As his mouth plundered hers, his hands ran down her arms, then scrambled back up again. Her velvety skin teased him with the promise of other softer skin hidden beneath her clothes. She wrapped her arms around his back and the feelings he’d had when she’d clung to him that day on the motorcycle returned. All that trust, all that love, in one simple gesture.
She loved him.
The thought stopped him cold. No matter what he did now, she would be hurt when he left. So would it be so bad to make love, to give them both a memory?
Yes. It would be bad. It would give her false hope. It would tear him up inside to leave her.
When he pulled away, he didn’t merely feel the physical loss, he felt the emotional loss. But he knew he’d done the right thing.
Missy rose from the bed. She paced around the little room as if deliberating, then swung to face him. “You know, I never felt alone. Not once in the four years after my husband left, until I began missing you.”
The sadness in her voice pricked his heart. He’d deliberately held himself back the past few days. He knew that’s why she’d missed him. Still, he said, “I’m not even gone yet.”
“No, but you always pull away.”
“I have to. One of us has to be smart about this.”
“How do you know I want to be smart? Couldn’t I once, just once, get something I want without worrying about tomorrow?”
Yearning shuddered through him. He wanted this night, too. And if she didn’t stop pushing, he would take it. “Right from the beginning you’ve told me your kids come first, and the best way to protect them is to keep yourself from doing stupid things.”
She faced him with sad blue eyes. “Would making love with the first guy I’ve been attracted to in four years really be stupid?”
His blasted need roared inside him. For fifteen years he’d wished she was attracted to him. Now that she was, he had to turn her away. Everything inside him rebelled at the idea. Everything except the gentleman his mother had raised. He knew this was the right thing. “That’s not a reason to do this.”
“Okay, then.” She smiled. “How about this? I love you.”
The very thought stole his breath. Missy Johnson, prettiest girl he’d ever met, girl he’d been in love with forever, woman who’d made the past four weeks fun, loved him.
He’d guessed that already, but hearing her say it w
as like music. Still, practicality ruled him. He snorted a laugh. “Right. In four weeks, you’ve fallen in love?”
“What’s so hard to believe about that?”
“It’s not hard to believe. It’s just not love. Since I’ve been here, you haven’t merely had company, you’ve also had an ally for your business. Somebody who saw your potential and wouldn’t let you back down or settle for less than what you deserve.”
“You know, in some circles that might be taken to mean you love me, too.”
Oh, he did. Part of him genuinely believed he did. And the words shivered on his tongue, begging to be released. But his practical side, the rational, logical, hard-nosed businessman, argued that this wasn’t love. That everything he believed he felt was either residual feelings from his teen years or rebound feelings. Feelings that would disappear when he went home. Feelings that would get her hopes up and then hurt her.
“I care about you. But I didn’t have a good marriage. And for the past four years I’ve been trapped in hearings and negotiations to keep my wife—ex-wife—from taking everything I’d worked for. In the end we compromised, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t bitter. And what you think I feel—” He snorted a laugh. “Hell, what I think I feel isn’t love. It’s rebound. You’re everything she wasn’t. And I need to go home. Get back to my real life.”
* * *
Hurt to her very core, Missy walked around the bedroom. There was no way she could let the conversation end like this. She picked up one of the broaches that meant so much to his family. He had roots. He’d always had stability. He didn’t know what it was like to be alone and wanting. So he didn’t know how desperate she was to hang on to the first person in her life she really loved. And the first person, she believed, to really love her.
“You’ve never once seemed bitter around me.”
“That’s because I’ve been happy around you.” When her gaze darted to his, he held up his hand to stop what she wanted to say. “Or maybe it was more that around you I was occupied.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, I’m not going to lie to you by telling you leaving will be easy. It won’t. You and the kids mean more to me than anybody ever has. But the timing is wrong. And if I stay or ask you to come with me, one of us is going to get hurt.” He sucked in a breath. “And it won’t be me. I’m selfish. I’m stubborn. I usually take what I want, so be glad I’m giving you a way out.”
Her lips trembled. She’d presented all her best arguments and he wasn’t budging. She had a choice. Stay and embarrass herself by crying in front of him, maybe even begging him to stay, or go—lose any chance of keeping him here, but salvage her pride.
She glanced up at him, saw the look of sadness on his face and knew the next step was pity. Pity for the woman who was left by her ex. Pity for the woman who was only now getting her life together after her father’s abuse.
Pride rescued her. She would never settle for anybody’s pity.
She softly sucked in a breath to hold off the tears, and smiled. Though it killed her, she forced her lips to bow upward, her tears to stay right where they were, shimmying on her eyelids.
“You know what? You’re right. You probably are a totally different guy in Florida. I am just starting out. It is better not to pursue this.”
“Two years from now you’ll be so busy and so successful you’ll forget who I am.”
Oh, he was wrong about that. She’d never forget him. But he was also right. She would be busy. Her kids would be well dressed, well loved, happy. She would have all the shiny wonderful toys every baker wanted. Hell, she’d probably have her own building by then.
Still, she wouldn’t let him off the hook. In some ways she believed he needed to be loved even more than she did. She loved him and he needed to know that. “I will be busy, but I won’t forget you.”
Her heart caught in her throat and she couldn’t say any more. She turned to the door and walked out.
He didn’t try to follow her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MISSY AWAKENED before the kids, rolled out of bed and began baking. Wyatt rejecting her again the night before had stung, but the more she examined their conversation, the tortured expression on his face, the need she felt rolling from him, the more she knew he loved her.
That was the thing that bothered her about his rejecting her. Not her own loss. His. He kept saying he was protecting her from hurt, but in her own sadness she hadn’t seen his loss. It took her until three o’clock in the morning to realize that to keep her from hurt he was hurting himself.
If she really believed he didn’t want her, she’d let him go without a second thought. But she wasn’t going to let him walk away just to protect her. Risk was part of love. Unfortunately, both of them had been in relationships that hadn’t panned out, so they were afraid to risk.
Well, she wasn’t. Not with Wyatt. He was good, kind, loving. He would never leave her. And she would never leave him. She loved him.
In her pantry, she found the ingredients for lemon cake and meringue frosting. When the kids woke at eight, she fed them, then shooed them out the door to play.
As they sifted through the sand, she took a few peeks outside to see when Wyatt came out to be with them. He didn’t. But that didn’t bother her. He’d found his jewels the night before. He could be on the phone with his mom or even his staff, making plans to go home.
Which was why she had to get her lemon cake to him as soon as possible so she would have one more chance to talk him out of leaving, or one more chance to talk him into staying in touch, visiting her every few weeks or letting her and the kids visit him.
Elaine arrived at nine. Missy brushed her hands on her apron, then removed it. “Would you mind watching the kids while I quickly deliver this cake next door to Wyatt?”
With a laugh, Elaine said, “No. Go.”
Pretty yellow-and-white cake in hand, she walked through the backyard and dipped through the hole in the shrub. Sucking in a breath for courage, she pounded up the back porch steps and knocked on the kitchen door.
“He’s not here.”
She spun around to find Owen on her heels. “What?”
“He just weft.”
“He just weft?”
Owen nodded. “He said to tell you goodbye.”
“Oh.”
Wow. Her chest collapsed, as if someone had punched it. Wyatt wasn’t even going to tell her goodbye? Shock rendered her speechless, but also prevented her from overtly reacting.
“Well, then let’s go home. We’ll eat this cake for dessert at suppertime.”
Owen eagerly nodded.
But as they clomped down the stairs, the shock began to wear off. Her throat closed. Tears filled her eyes.
It really was over. He didn’t want her. All the stuff she’d convinced herself of, that he loved her, that he was protecting her, it was crap.
How many times had he told her he was a spoiled man, accustomed to getting what he wanted? How many times had he warned her off?
God, she was stupid! What he’d been saying was that if he wanted her, he would have her. And all that pain over leaving her that she’d been so sure she’d seen the night before? She hadn’t.
She set the cake on the counter, gave Elaine a list of chores for the day and went to her bedroom. About to throw herself across the bed and weep, she faltered. A shower would cover the noise of her crying. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about yet another person, Elaine, feeling sorry for her. She stripped, got into the shower and let the tears fall.
He might not have loved her, but like a fool, she’d fallen for him.
* * *
Wyatt had decided to take the bike home. He loved the truck, but he needed the bike. He needed the feeling of the wind on his face to remind him of who he was and what he did and why he hadn’t taken
what Missy had offered.
Damn it! She’d have slept with him, even after all his warnings.
He stifled the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. She was such a good person. Such a wonderful person. And such a good mom.
A vision of his last five minutes with Owen popped into his head. He’d thought he could slide out the front door, zoom down the steps and get on the bike without being noticed. But the little boy had been at the opening in the shrubs. Just as he had been the day Wyatt arrived.
“Where you goin’?”
He’d stopped, turned to face him. “Home.”
“You didn’t give me a wide.”
No longer having trouble understanding Owen’s lisp, he’d laughed, dropped his duffel bag in the little pouch that made the back of the bike’s seat, and headed to the opening. When he reached Owen he’d crouched down.
“Actually, I think you’re too small to ride a bike.”
Owen looked at his tennis shoes. “Oh.”
“But don’t worry, someday you’ll be tall. Not just big enough to ride a bike, but tall.”
The little boy grinned at him.
Wyatt ruffled his hair. He started to rise to go, but his heart tightened and he stopped. He opened his arms and Owen stepped into them. He wrapped them around the boy, his eyes filling with tears. This time next week, when the kids went to day care, Owen would forget all about him. But Wyatt had a feeling he’d never forget Owen.
He let him go and rose. “See ya, kid.”
“See ya.”
Then he’d gotten on his bike and rode off.
Damn it. Now his head was all cloudy again and his chest hurt from wanting. Wanting to stay with Missy. Wanting to be around her kids. Wanting to stay where he was instead of return to the home that was supposed to be paradise, but he knew would be empty and lifeless.
Seeing a sign for a rest stop, he swung off the highway and drove up to the small brick building.
He took off his helmet and headed for the restroom. Parked beside the sidewalk was a gray-blue van. As he approached, the side door slid open and six kids rolled out. Three girls. Three boys. They barreled past him and giggled their way to the building.
