His throat turned to dust.
She’d looked like that right after he’d kissed her the other day, he remembered, only this time her pleasure was due to her excitement over Cara hiring her to prepare the food for the party. He hadn’t seen what the big deal was all about, or even why Cara had hired Sydney at all. They could have celebrated just as well with pizza or hamburgers or Corky’s famous chili. What was the point of all that fancy French cooking?
And then he’d tasted her ravioli stuffed with lobster and shrimp, drenched in a sauce. He’d actually moaned, it was so good. And so was the chicken and mushroom dish she’d made for a main course. That had been a taste of heaven, too.
So she could cook, he thought begrudgingly. Maybe she wasn’t just some bored rich girl who thought owning a restaurant would be fun. He’d seen how hard she worked, and when Sydney set her mind to something, she was stubborn as a bulldog about it.
Too damn stubborn.
Well, he didn’t need stubborn. And he sure as hell didn’t need Sydney Taylor messing up his mind and his life. He’d been perfectly content before he’d locked horns with her, and he intended to go right back. She wasn’t coming to the tavern to work anymore, and though he’d actually missed her the past two days, he didn’t miss the aggravation. His life was back to simple and quiet, and he liked it exactly that way.
After tonight, he wouldn’t give Sydney another thought.
Except for maybe every time he laid eyes on a peanut.
“Hey, Reese.” A mug of beer already in her hand, Rhonda Waters sidled onto the bar stool across from him. “Where you been keeping yourself?”
“Right here waiting for you, honey,” he bantered with the attractive brunette.
“You two-timing me, sugar?” Mary Lou Simpson, her new hair dye as red as a tomato, slid onto the bar stool next to Rhonda. “Shame on you. And here I voted for you in the Bloomfield County Best Butt contest. You could at least show a little appreciation.”
Reese had always thought the whole business of that award had been good for a laugh. Suddenly it didn’t seem so funny anymore. If anything, it was starting to annoy him.
He forced a smile, wished that Jimmy would hurry and get back from his break.
“So, Reese.” Mary Lou leaned against the bar counter in an obvious attempt to reveal her ample bosom. “When we gonna go out driving? I’ve got a brand new convertible Camaro, and it’s not too cold out yet to put the top down.”
His smile still frozen in place, Reese cocked his head and raised a brow at Mary Lou’s blatant innuendo. “Well, now, Mary Lou, soon as I have a full staff, maybe we’ll talk about that.” Or maybe we won’t… Definitely won’t, he decided.
Rhonda choked on her beer, then giggled. Mary Lou’s eyes widened, then she purred, “I can hardly wait, sugar.”
Oh, dammit! Reese groaned silently. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say. He’d meant to say crew, not staff.
He glanced around the room, searching for any sign of Jimmy, then grabbed a towel and started wiping up an imaginary spill.
“I heard you been hanging around Sydney Taylor,” Rhonda said, sipping on her beer. “You got something going with her?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mary Lou said with a laugh. “What would Reese possibly see in someone like Sydney the Hun? What would any man see in her, for that matter?”
“True.” Rhonda nodded. “Even Bobby got smart before he made the mistake of tying himself down to Sour Face Sydney.”
“Hey, now,” Reese said tightly, struggling to contain his anger, “just wait a—”
He stopped midsentence.
Sydney stood directly behind the two women. He’d been so distracted with Rhonda and Mary Lou’s annoying insults regarding Sydney, he hadn’t noticed her come up.
Maybe she hadn’t heard.
“Hello, Rhonda. Mary Lou.”
Oh, hell. Reese groaned inwardly. Based on the icicles dripping from her hello, she’d heard, all right.
Eyes wide, backs stiff, Rhonda and Mary Lou slowly turned and squeaked back a hello. Ha, Reese thought. Serves you both right for being so nasty.
“Sorry to hear about your job, Mary Lou,” Sydney said, her cool gaze locked on the redhead. “I’m sure you’ll find another employer who will appreciate your qualifications as much as John Sweeney did.”
Everyone in town knew that Mary Lou had been sleeping with the owner of Sweeney’s Sporting Goods. Well, everyone except Mrs. Sweeney, of course. Until she’d caught the two of them after hours, in the store’s bass boat, wearing nothing but waders and surprised expressions. There were instant employment changes, which included an in-store, full-time position for Colleen Sweeney where she could keep a close eye on her philandering husband, and the boot for Mary Lou.
Sydney turned her attention to Rhonda. “And I’m sorry about Mike and you, too.”
Rhonda narrowed her eyes. “Sorry about what?”
“That you broke up after such a long time,” Sydney said, the sympathy heavy in her voice. “It must be hard for you.”
“He’s got a carpentry job in Ridgeway, that’s all,” Rhonda insisted. “That’s why he’s been gone so much. Even tonight he’s working overtime on a job there and—” She stopped suddenly, doubt darkening her brown eyes. “Ah, well, I gotta run, Syd. Nice to see you.”
Rhonda slid off the chair and headed for the pay phone by the restrooms. Mary Lou followed.
Reese stared at Sydney, a mixture of admiration and awe at the way she’d handled the two women.
“Your family would like you to come in and say goodbye when you have a minute,” she said evenly.
“Thanks.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. She should be angry, he thought. Mad as hell. He knew he was. But Sydney stood there as calm as could be. As if nothing at all had just happened. As if it didn’t matter to her in the slightest that these two women had insulted her.
“Thank you for letting me use the tavern’s kitchen tonight, Reese,” she said with a politeness that irritated him. “I’ll just gather up my things from the back dining room and be out of your way.”
“Okay.” But it’s not okay. Dammit, Sydney, can’t you just let yourself go and be mad? Yell or scream or hit something? He sure as hell would. But not Sydney, he thought. Not cool, calm, collected Sydney. Nothing got through that thick skin of hers. And no one.
He watched her turn smoothly and head back through the thinning crowd in the tavern, then disappear down the hallway that led to the back dining room and his office.
Well, fine then, dammit. He wasn’t about to waste his time worrying about Sydney. She could take care of herself. She didn’t need him; she’d made that perfectly clear. As far as he was concerned, Sydney was ancient history.
Sydney felt Reese’s gaze on her as she walked away from the bar, knew that he’d expected some kind of reaction from her after hearing Mary Lou and Rhonda’s cruel comments. But Sydney had learned long ago to hide her feelings, to pretend everything was all right when it really wasn’t. She’d learned to tuck every emotion into a tiny little spot inside of her, then wait until she was completely alone and no one would see the truth. That was the only time she’d let herself really feel.
She focused on her legs instead of the pain gripping her chest, ordered her knees not to buckle, to hold firm and carry her out of the tavern, down the hallway, past the dining room, past Reese’s office, then to the back door that led to the outside garden.
Quietly she closed the door behind her, thankful that the night air was crisp and the garden dark, lit only from the soft light of a half-moon. She shivered, made it down two steps before her legs refused to listen to her anymore. She sank down on the steps, dropped her head into her shaking hands and let the tears come.
Sydney the Hun.
Sour Face Sydney.
She’d always known what people thought of her, that they didn’t like her, but to actually hear those terrible things spoken aloud only confirmed what she’d always believed
.
No one could ever love her. Not her father, not her mother. Not Bobby.
Certainly not Reese.
Mary Lou and Rhonda’s words might have been cruel, but they were true. And the realization of that, the conscious acceptance of it as the truth, was like a dam breaking inside her. A tidal wave of hurt and pain rolled through her, and this time she was helpless to stop it. So she let it go.
In long, choking sobs and hot, endless tears, she simply let it go.
She felt the nudge on her arm, the cold, wet nose, and realized that Boomer had joined her on the step. He whimpered, then licked her face. Sydney slipped an arm around the dog, dragged her fingers through his thick fur and actually laughed at the irony of Boomer being the only one who seemed to really like her.
It had been such a wonderful evening. Preparing the meal, serving each course, seeing the pleasure on everyone’s face when they tried each dish. She’d even heard Reese moan when he’d tried the lobster-and-shrimp ravioli.
And then she’d chosen exactly the wrong time to walk up and hear things about herself she’d never wanted to hear.
A fresh round of tears burst forth and she hugged the dog tightly to her.
“Sydney.”
She heard her name called softly, then the touch of a hand on her shoulder.
Not Reese, she thought miserably. Anyone but Reese.
“Go away.”
He didn’t. Instead he sat down beside her and put his arm around her. He touched her wet cheek. “You’re crying.”
Humiliated, she turned her head from him. “No, I’m not. I never cry. Crying is for pathetic, helpless females,” she managed to sob out through a fresh round of tears.
He chuckled, then pulled her closer. “Sydney, you are as far from pathetic and helpless as a person can get.”
She shook her head to disagree, then laid her cheek on the shoulder he offered. When her tears eased and the shuddering finally ceased, she drew in a deep breath then let it out again.
“Better?” he asked quietly.
With a sniff, she nodded, then tried to sit up.
“Just be still for a minute,” he said and drew her back into his arms.
Just for a minute, she told herself and let herself relax against his strong, warm body.
The sound of gurgling water from the fountain filled the cool evening air, and the scent of the last roses of the season drifted from the overhead arbor. In spite of her embarrassment, she couldn’t remember when she’d felt such peace or tranquility.
They were quiet for several minutes, just listening to the sounds of the night and Boomer’s soft panting.
“There were one hundred and fifty people in the church,” she said, breaking the silence. “My maid-of-honor had just put my wedding veil on me and we were looking in the mirror, smiling at each other when the wedding director came in. I knew something was wrong. I thought maybe Bobby was sick or he’d had a terrible accident.” She laughed dryly. “He had an accident, all right. With your cocktail waitress. The note he’d sent just said that he was sorry.”
Reese swore under his breath. “I never could stand that guy. He was a jerk.”
“I thought my life was over. I thought maybe I’d just move rather than face everyone again, knowing they were whispering behind my back.” She closed her eyes, felt a single tear slide from the corner of her eye. “It hurt, Reese,” she whispered.
“I know, baby.”
“Almost as much as when my father left and never came back. Almost as much as when people call me Sydney the Hun or Sour Face Sydney.”
She shivered when he brushed her cheek with his thumb and wiped away the tear. “Mary Lou and Rhonda are shallow, empty-headed bimbos. They couldn’t hold a candle to you.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true, sweetheart. You’ve got something no one can buy or fake. You’ve got spirit and integrity and an intensity about you that energizes the entire room whenever you walk in.”
She blinked, then swallowed the lump in her throat. Had he really called her baby and sweetheart? And had he really said all those nice things about her?
And more important, had he meant them?
The moon shed enough light onto his face that she could see he was telling the truth. That he meant every word.
And through the pain she felt joy, a weight lifting off her chest and a swelling in her heart.
“I think you’re wonderful with people.” She straightened, looked into his eyes. “You know how to make people relax and have a good time. Laugh. I could never do that.”
“Sure you could.” He tucked a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear. “You just need to loosen up a little, Syd. Not take everything so seriously all the time. Let yourself go once in a while.”
Everything in her entire life had been carefully planned, every sock neatly folded and put in the correct drawer, every slip of paper properly filed. Each “bunny in its own basket,” as her mother used to say.
Could she let go?
She desperately wanted to do just that. To let herself go. Not think about anything but the moment and what felt good. Like the touch of Reese’s fingertips on her ear, or the feel of his strong arm around her waist.
But she wanted more. Much more.
She didn’t know how to tell Reese what she wanted, but she let instinct guide her. She touched his cheek with her hand; the strength she felt there gave her the confidence she so lacked.
“You were right, you know,” she whispered.
He covered her hand with his, brought it to his mouth and gently kissed her fingers. “About what?”
His firm lips against her made her insides curl, gave her the courage to continue. “What you said about my grandfather interrupting us,” she murmured. “If he hadn’t, I would have been in your bed, begging you to make love to me.”
Reese went very still. She felt a moment of panic that he wasn’t feeling what she was feeling, that he didn’t want her. If he pushed her away, she couldn’t bear it.
But then she saw his gaze darken and narrow and the look of intensity in his eyes made her heart skip. She felt his jaw tighten under the palm of her hand. She leaned her body toward him, brought her lips close to his.
“Sydney, this might not be a good time—”
So she had been wrong. Pain ripped through her chest and she pulled her hand away and forced a smile. “Of course not. You’re right. I—I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry.”
“Dammit, Sydney.” His voice was a soft growl as he took hold of her shoulders and forced her to face him. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re upset right now, you might not be thinking clearly.”
She dared to put her hand on his chest, felt the rapid beat of his heart. It matched her own. “I’m thinking more clearly than I have in years.” She kept her gaze level with his. “I know what I want. Do you?”
His hands tightened on her arms, and she felt a shudder move through him.
He nodded slowly, narrowed his eyes. “I want you, Sydney.” His arms came around her, dragged her tightly against him. “I want you.”
He crushed his mouth to hers, a demanding, forceful kiss that took her breath away. I want you. Sydney had waited to hear those words her entire life. She knew this was just about sex, not love, but still it didn’t matter. For this moment, she was the happiest woman in the world.
His kiss thrilled her, made her mind spin and her pulse race. A lifetime of yearning spilled through her, yearning and desire, as hot as it was impatient.
She felt his impatience as well, his desire, as he deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers again and again. She answered him, shivering with excitement, with anticipation.
His mouth still on hers, he scooped her up in his arms and stood. She wound her arms around his neck and clung to him, never wanting the kiss to end. The scent of his skin, as rugged as it was masculine, filled her senses. She felt safe and protected in his strong, ste
ady arms.
As if she’d come home.
Not the home she’d been raised in. That had never been a home. But really home, a place where she belonged.
The realization frightened her, and the implications that came with it nearly had her pulling away. But she’d been a coward for far too long. She would not let this moment slip by her, would not let her fear deny herself this pleasure.
Just this once, she would let herself feel, just feel. No logic, no reason, no arguments. Just sheer, unfettered bliss.
Smiling softly, she laid her head on his broad shoulder.
Reese carried Sydney—not back into the tavern, which would be the wisest course of action—but to the front door of his cottage. Even if he’d wanted to take her back into the tavern, which he didn’t, he didn’t want anyone else to see her tearstained cheeks or red eyes. He felt strangely possessive of her at the moment, still angry at Rhonda and Mary Lou for their asinine remarks.
But he was the biggest idiot of all for not realizing how deeply the two women had hurt Sydney. He’d simply assumed—and that was certainly the appropriate word—that no one could hurt Sydney. That she was too tough.
Only she wasn’t so tough, after all. What she showed on the surface wasn’t what she really was at all. Underneath all that pluck and sass, she was soft and tender. Under that cool composure she was warm and vulnerable.
He’d known something was wrong when Gabe told him that she hadn’t come back into the dining room to say goodbye. After his family had left, he looked in his office and she hadn’t been there, either. And since she’d gone down the hall and hadn’t come back, that had only left outside.
The sight of her tears, the sound of her small sobs, had ripped through his gut like a sharp knife. He’d watched her hug Boomer tightly to her and he’d never felt so damn helpless in his life.
He tightened his hold on her, reluctant to set her down as he stepped onto his porch. He fumbled awkwardly with the knob and Sydney reached down, pushed his hand away, then opened the door.
His living room was dark, but the soft glow from a bedside lamp shone through the half-open door of his bedroom.
Reese's Wild Wager Page 9
