Lifting her loose curls from where they clung damply to the back of her neck, Whitney jumped at the muffled sound of a car pulling into the drive and coming to a stop. She scurried through the house and opened the front door in time to see two children tumble from the backseat as soon as the engine stopped and immediately race for the maple tree where the swing swayed temptingly. A man and woman followed, laughing as they watched their children dive headfirst into the first visible opportunity for fun they spotted.
Whitney slipped past the screen door and greeted the young couple as they came up the steps.
“Hello and welcome to Mountain Meadow Inn,” she said warmly, extending her hand in welcome.
“Thank you,” the woman replied, reaching to shake Whitney’s hand in return. “We’re the Turners. I believe you have a reservation for us, don’t you?”
“Of course we do,” Whitney answered her with a captivating smile. “We’ve been expecting you and we hope you’ll find your stay to be as enjoyable as we will strive to make it. I’m Whitney Lane, the owner. I’ll be glad to show you to your room, if you like, that is after we get you signed in.”
The Turners exchanged grateful glances. “That sounds wonderful, Ms. Lane.”
“Whitney.”
“That sounds just wonderful, Whitney,” Mr. Turner said again, beginning to feel that the vacation his wife had insisted they take might turn out to be a good thing after all.
With a backward glance to assure themselves that their children were still playing happily on the swing, the newest guests of the inn followed Whitney inside and up to the antique front desk where Stuart Walsten stood ready to meet them. As their names were entered in the register they were each able to glance about the home. There were two set of stairs flanking the spacious front room, with the dining room clearly visible through a set of louvered doors at near the back of the room A sign posted on the wall adjacent to the dining room announced that meals were served at eight a.m., noon and again at six o’clock, although trays could be prepared upon request. That particular night, the posted main course was honeyed ham.
In short order Whitney showed her guests up the left-hand flight of steps to their room with its panoramic view of the mountain range. Then she retired to her own suite, accessible only by the opposite set of steps, to prepare for Stephan’s arrival. Before she knew it, the grandfather clock in the foyer was striking seven o’clock and true to his word Stephan’s voice could be heard downstairs as he stopped to say hello to the Walstens.
Whitney felt her palms begin to sweat and deep inside nervous ripples of… What? Anticipation? She wasn’t sure but something definitely had set her stomach to doing the same flip-flops she had experienced when she had met Christian so many months before. A lifetime ago.
You’re a different woman now, she told herself as she took one last look in the mirror. Ready, or not, a new Whitney Lane had replaced the shy creature who hadn’t known what to say to Christian last spring. And now she was going to meet this latest challenge just as she had all the rest. Hadn’t she outsmarted the gold diggers who had thought they could latch onto her fortune? And she had taken to running an inn with the practiced ease of a veteran—well, with a little help from her dear friends, the Walstens.
Pride would see her through this evening too. Seeing her reflection gave her the last boost of confidence she needed.
She had chosen to wear a simple white denim dress with soft touches of embroidered flowers at the neckline. Silver earrings and a pendant suspended above the barest hint of cleavage was a perfect match to the tiny buttons running the length of the dress. She had decided to let her hair fall freely in rebellious curls about her bare shoulders where the widely scooped neck allowed her creamy skin to show. Her great green eyes peeked out from beneath finely arched brows and full, soft lips seemed to beckon a man to try to kiss them, while the strength beneath the beauty promised they would be kept at a safe distance.
Whitney liked what she saw and hoped Stephan would too.
You know Christian would.
“Keep out of this,” Whitney shushed the troublesome voice she hadn’t heard for quite some time. She wasn’t going to think about Christian. Not tonight.
A familiar male voice calling from downstairs interrupted her thoughts. “Hey up there! Are you coming down sometime tonight or am I to assume I’m being stood up?”
Grabbing her small purse and pausing to rub Gabbycat behind the ears one last time, Whitney swept from the room and rushed downstairs. Breathless she arrived at the bottom of the staircase and came face to face with her date who had just made the decision to go up and see if he could hurry her along.
“Well, I’ve got to say, this was certainly worth the wait!” Stephan commented, taking in each beautiful inch of Whitney’s trim five-foot-six-inch frame.
Whitney blushed prettily at the compliment and replied, “I’ve been told I shouldn’t believe anything a lawyer tells me but I think in your case I’ll make an exception.”
“And so you should,” Stephan said, tapping her playfully on the nose. “Shall we go?”
“Of course.”
The telephone rang as they prepared to leave. Stuart called to Whitney, holding the receiver out in her direction.
“It’s for you, honey. Says it’s mighty important.”
“Did they say who they were?” Whitney reached for the phone, holding her hand over the mouthpiece.
“It didn’t sound like himat all, sugar,” Stuart told her with a comforting smile. He turned back to the entries he was making on the computer. Whitney had told the Walstens that if Christian ever called and asked for her to warn her before she took the call. Thankfully they hadn’t pressed her for her details.
“Hello?” Whitney said with an apologetic look at Stephan who was pretending to be crushed by the interruption.
“Is this tha’ new owner?”
The color drained from Whitney’s face as the deep voice on the other end of the line reached across the miles and wrapped itself around her racing heart.
“Yes.” It was the only word she could force past the lump in her throat.
“Well, Miss whatever-your-name-was, I thoug’ I should check an’ see how business is. Kinda avoided it up to now.”
He was stinking drunk. Whitney didn’t need to see him to know that much. Why in the world would he make a phone call like this in that condition? He probably wouldn’t even remember making it tomorrow, which was good because there were a few things she had wanted to tell him for months now and he was giving her the perfect opportunity. Perhaps by venting some of her pent-up feelings she could lay them to rest and move on with her life. Magically the lump disappeared.
“I have a name if you’ll recall,” she informed him icily.
“‘Course you do, I just don’t ’member it right now. It’s not important anyway. I want to know how my place is doin’.”
“You gave up your rights to that information when you cashed my check. Or did you forget that fact also?” Whitney asked pointedly, wishing that she could see Christian’s face when she reminded him that he had signed over possession of the inn to her of his own free will.
“Didn’t forget it. Jus’ not important since I’ll get it all back soon.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it if I were you. You haven’t shown much interest in this place since you signed on the dotted line, so I don’t believe we have anything else to say to one another until it’s time to try to negotiate your buyback.” She fought to keep tight control of her own voice, glad he was unable to hear the strangled yearning masked beneath the anger.
“Yes, we do. I just don’t have time to break away an’ come home.”
You found time to break my heart.
“This isn’t a good time, Christian.” Stephan’s eyes swung around to meet hers at the mention of his friend’s name. Whitney had hoped to avoid telling him that his best friend had treated her like a first-class jerk in the past but it seemed that wouldn’t be possibl
e now. “Please don’t bother calling again. Goodbye.” With a trembling hand Whitney replaced the receiver in its cradle and turned to Stephan her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
“I’m so sorry, Stephan. I don’t think I feel well enough to go out after all.”
“Whitney, my God, I had no idea you knew Christian. How? Where?” Seeing Whitney’s lower lip begin to quiver, Stephan enveloped her in his arms and steered her into the front parlor where he helped her sit down.
“I really don’t want to go into it, Stephan. Christian is part of my past and I intend to keep it that way. He means nothing to me.”
“Liar!”
Damn that voice.
“Whitney, I’ve known Christian most of my life, we practically grew up together. He’s not the kind of man who goes around breaking beautiful women’s hearts.”
“My heart is not broken.”
“Okay, okay. I believe you.” There was too much skepticism in his eyes for Whitney to be convinced. “But Christian isn’t the type to purposefully hurt anyone, let alone someone like you.”
“You could have fooled me. I’d say he’s quite accomplished at hurting people, even me.”
“Just what did he do to you, Whitney?” Stephan asked quietly, concern etched across his brow.
“Let’s just say he misrepresented himself at one point and let it go at that. I don’t plan to have anything else to do with him until it’s time to discuss whether he can comply with the buyback clause of our contract or not.”
“And until then…”
“Until then I plan to enjoy my new business and the wonderful friends I’ve made here at Reflection Ridge. Especially you, Stephan.” Whitney paused to place her hand over Stephan’s where it was resting between them on the sofa. She lifted her eyes and gazed sadly into his. Why in the world couldn’t she fall in love with a man like this instead of someone like Christian? She wanted a steady, predictable, sensitive man, not…
Fall in love? With Christian? That was what she had just admitted to, wasn’t it. Oh lord help her she was in love with him, wasn’t she? Totally, helplessly, hopelessly in love with a man she couldn’t stand. How could this have happened to her? The queen of romance trapped in a relationship that would never stand a chance. Perhaps someday she would appreciate the sweet irony of the situation but not now, not when her heart lay shattered in too many pieces to ever be whole again.
As the realization dawned on her why she had languished over Christian for months Stephan was gently gathering her in his arms. He let his lips drop over hers in answer to the simple gesture she had made by touching his hand.
Whitney remained still within his embrace, unsure what her reaction should be. She didn’t want to be kissed—not by him, having just discovered she loved someone else. But it was love without hope. Why not let Stephan kiss her? If she could find love once, maybe she could again.
She waited for her body to take over and lead her to respond as it had with Christian to the kisses Stephan pressed against her soft lips, but it didn’t. There was no spark, no uncontrollable desire to kiss him back. Nothing.
Damn. That man was not about to control her actions from two thousand miles away. She could respond if she wanted to and at the moment she wanted desperately to know that another man could set her heart racing besides Christian. She needed to know that given half a chance she could feel the same excitement as Stephan’s hands touched her that she had with Christian. She had to prove to herself that she could take her love from the wrong man and give it to one who was everything she had always known she needed.
Whitney allowed a soft moan to escape her and was instantly rewarded as Stephan’s grip on her arms tightened. Parting her lips, she welcomed the intrusion his tongue made into the recesses of her mouth, trying her best to match his passion with some of her own. But it was just wasn’t happening. He was doing all the things that Christian had done but it didn’t feel the same at all. She couldn’t pretend to ache for more of his touch no matter how hard she tried. There was no overwhelming need to feel his flesh against hers.
With a frustrated cry she broke free and pushed him away. Stephan stared, not understanding, as Whitney leaned back against the couch, her eyes squeezed shut as a tear slipped slowly down her cheek. It was several moments before either could speak.
“Tell me what I did wrong, Whitney,” Stephan begged, his blue eyes imploring her to forgive him. “I never meant to upset you. You said there was nothing between you and Christian and I thought… I was just trying to…”
“It wasn’t you. You’re perfect, you’re wonderful! And I’m every kind of a fool not to be the woman you want me to be. I just can’t. Can you understand, please?” Her voice was thick with the unshed tears she was fighting to keep from falling. Christian had managed to ruin her ability to react to other men, to choose her own destiny. How could she explain something like that to Stephan?
“I take full blame for putting you in such an awkward position. Can you ever forgive me?” Stephan whispered wretchedly.
Now why couldn’t that Neanderthal in New York have asked for her forgiveness instead of putting the blame on her when he had lost control?
Whitney reached out and took Stephan’s worried face between her hands. Ever so gently she brushed his lips with her fingertips, feeling the heat of their kiss still there.
“Stephan, you didn’t do anything wrong here tonight,” she said quietly. “I made you think I might be ready for something serious but I’m obviously not. It should be me asking you for forgiveness, not the other way around.”
Whitney dropped her hands into her lap and sat staring at them dejectedly. “I should have known better.”
“It seems we both let ourselves be carried away for entirely different reasons, didn’t we?” Stephan asked, drawing Whitney to her feet. Once more Whitney found herself pulled into his embrace but this time she received the comforting hug of a brother. She returned it in the same manner.
“Whitney Lane, would you let me to invite you out again?”
Whitney looked up into Stephan’s honest blue eyes and nodded. “I’d like that. Let’s put this far behind us and pretend it never happened, deal?”
“Deal,” Stephan answered, then grinned as a thought occurred to him. “But you know, lawyers have to make sure deals are sealed correctly. Don’t suppose you’d like to seal this one with a kiss?”
He deserved the playful punch in the stomach he received for an answer.
* * * * *
Crisp autumn days set the countryside aflame with brilliant reds and oranges as the foliage changed its seasonal coat. The days sped by without any further contact from Christian and with the passing of the holidays Whitney found herself too busy playing hostess to hordes of suburbanites flocking to the mountains to drink in the crystalline beauty of the snow-covered scenery, to dwell on it. The inn had quickly made a name for itself under her supervision as news spread of the pampered atmosphere put in place by the new owner, surpassing the notable reputation the Dades had already garnered. With the Walstens’ help, Whitney had not only learned the finer points of proprietorship but had found that she had quite an aptitude for the role.
Scurrying to see to the details for the evening meal, Whitney noted with pride the efficient manner in which her business was run. She had added a full-time cook and a housekeeper to the staff Christian had left in place. It had become apparent that Mrs. Walsten simply could not keep up with the additional duties brought about as a result of their growing popularity.
As she stepped into the kitchen Whitney was assailed by the savory aroma of country pot roast and steamed vegetables. Her guests were in for a special treat that evening. Bette Laird had come highly recommended as the finest cook in the county, so Whitney had wasted little time recruiting her special talents. The good-natured culinarian added an essential element to the country inn’s atmosphere.
“Bette, you are an absolute wizard in the kitchen,” Whitney said, giving the small, gray
-haired woman an affectionate hug as she passed her. “I’ll have to watch myself, or I’ll put on fifty pounds with your wonderful treats tempting me every day.”
“Posh, child,” the cook exclaimed, dimpling at the compliment. “You’re just a wee mite and could stand a bit of fattening by the looks of you. That nice Mr. Thayer would agree with me, I’m sure. He certainly spends enough time looking after you to be an authority on your appearance at any rate.”
It was Whitney’s turn to blush. Since the night Christian had called they had continued to enjoy each other’s company and on the few occasions when Stephan had stretched the boundaries of their relationship to again include a kiss, he had been careful to keep them gentle and non-threatening.
Whitney still couldn’t see Stephan in the same way as she did Christian but she refused to give in to the notion that there was only one man who could awaken her desires and that such a man could possibly be Christian Dade. His very name turned her heart cold. Close to a year had passed since she had last seen him and there had been no more phone calls. Stephan had tried to tell her that the inn meant everything to Christian and that as soon as he had completed his objective he would be back but she didn’t believe a word of it. Why should she? He hadn’t expressed any interest in the running of it since he had sold it to her, or any desire to discuss her decisions and improvements, even if they were none of his business. If it meant so much to him wouldn’t he at least make a trip out once in a while, or pick up the telephone to inquire as to how things were going? Really going. She had no doubt that the one year anniversary would pass unnoticed and she would retain permanent possession of her darling home. The sooner that day came the better. At least then she could erase the thought of Christian Dade from her memory forever.
Don’t Call Me Sweetheart Page 10
