Texas Temptation

by Kathryn Brocato

  But he didn’t want to let her know he was falling for her. He’d answered the questions in the lawyer’s office honestly. There was no acting or lying on his part. He loved knowing that he would come home and find her here, waiting for him. Or that she’d meet him downstairs at her own work office, and they’d go home together. He liked sharing his day with her. The fact that she worked in the same industry as him was more than he could ask for. They understood each other all the more because of that.

  Gage started his search for Charlotte in their bedroom. He chuckled softly—since when had his master bedroom become ‘their bedroom’? The answer was easy—the moment she moved in.

  Empty.

  He headed down the hallway to check out the spare room.

  Empty.

  He walked through the apartment. There was no sign of her. For some reason she wasn’t home. The ball of dread grew even bigger.

  The last room he went into was his study. On occasion she’d curl up in a chair with a book while he dealt with e-mails. He didn’t expect her to be there, but he’d check it out anyway.

  The moment he walked in, he knew Charlotte had been in the room. His desk was normally clear of papers. But tonight, sitting in the middle of the shiny wood was a piece of paper. The cat brushed up against his leg as he stood looking at the top of his desk. He didn’t know why he was reluctant to go and pick it up. Everything in him told him who wrote the note. And it wasn’t from his housekeeper, who’d been there earlier.

  “Damn it, cat.” He stooped and picked up the creature before she used his leg as a scratching post again. Gage went over to his desk and picked up the paper.

  Gage,

  I’m leaving you. I don’t appreciate being lied to, and the report I found on your desk shows me just how much that piece of land means to you. Maybe Jack knew something when he left it to me instead of you. I can’t believe you went behind my back and arranged a survey of the land. You broke your promise. How many more will you break?

  Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I will be going back to Australia when my work contract ends. I have no reason to get a green card now. I can’t stay married to a man who lies to me. And I can’t pretend for the next two years just to get a piece of paper.

  I hope the report keeps you warm at night, because that’s the closest you’re going to get to the oil you so covet. I will never sell the land to you now.

  Charlotte

  He reread the note a dozen times. Each time the hurt in her words stabbed deeper inside of him.

  “I fucked up big-time, Oil Slick.”

  The cat jumped off his lap and stalked away, as if disgusted with what he’d done, as well.

  He couldn’t blame Charlotte for feeling like she’d been played. He hadn’t been thinking about anyone but himself when he went ahead and ordered the report. He knew he was going back on his word, and yet he still did it. Even as he walked through the door tonight, he’d thought he could sweet-talk her into forgiving him.

  He’d disappointed yet another person in his life. Maybe Grayson was right when he’d accused him of still doing things without thinking of the consequences. This time it was Charlotte he’d disappointed, the one person who meant as much to him as his dad had meant. How could he have done that to her?

  If the tables had been turned and she’d betrayed him like this, he’d be steaming mad, too. He had to find her and apologize. He didn’t know how to make it up to her, but he would.

  He knew exactly where she’d be. Before the night was over, she’d be back in this house where she belonged.

  • • •

  Three hours later Gage walked through his front door again, dejected and frustrated. He’d driven to her apartment and knocked on her door. When he got no response, he went down and waited in the foyer. But the longer he waited, the more obvious it became she wasn’t returning there.

  Calling the hotels in the vicinity of his condo, her old apartment, and her office wasn’t a feasible option. There were too many of them. And he doubted any hotel would divulge guest information, no matter how sweetly he asked.

  The next option would be to go to Gold Star Eco tomorrow and see her there. He would insist on taking her out to lunch so they could talk in private without everyone in her office overhearing their conversation.

  The silence of the apartment closed in on him. It hadn’t bothered him before, but tonight he missed Charlotte. He missed her quiet presence beside him, missed her joking with him over dinner. He even missed her scolding Oil Slick for scratching at the couch. He just plain missed her.

  The box of letters still sat in the middle of the coffee table, the gold key sticking out of the lock. What happiness had he found since he’d discovered the letters? He hadn’t found any happiness in reading them, but he hadn’t read them all. Maybe it was time to man up. Perhaps something in his father’s words would help him to work out how to apologize to Charlotte.

  He reached out and grabbed the box, placing it on the couch next to him. Unlocking it, he lifted the lid and pulled out the small bundle. He placed the ones he’d already read back in the box. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the next one in the pile.

  An hour later he picked up the last letter, his heart heavy. Through the letters he’d discovered that Dad and Nora’s relationship had started to fall apart. Although with no dates to go by, Gage had no idea how whether their relationship lasted for two years or six months. She’d stopped responding to his letters. But Jack had kept writing, holding out hope that she would respond. His father hadn’t elaborated on what he’d done wrong, and it frustrated Gage. Then again, why would Dad write about what he’d done wrong to the woman who already knew?

  This final letter was a couple of pages long, longer than any letter either one of them had written to each other.

  My darling, sweet Nora,

  My heart is broken, and I don’t think it will ever be fully healed. Finding all the letters I’d written to you when I went to check the box today … well, all I can say is I fell to my knees and cried. You will probably never read this one last letter because I have the box with me, but I have to write it. Closure, it could be called perhaps. I don’t know.

  The fact that you hadn’t burned the letters I sent you gave me a little bit of hope that you might forgive me, but I saw you leave town today. I don’t know how long you’re going for. You may already be back, or you may never return. Seeing you in that car, laughing with someone other than me as it drove away, told me all I needed to know. You haven’t laughed like that with me for a while.

  I will never love another like I love you, Nora. You are the one who makes my world whole. I could spend the rest of my life a bachelor, or I may find another woman to care for. But I won’t love her as much as I love you. I can’t when I’ve had a love so fulfilling as the one I shared with you. I know my love for you will never die. It will always be an ache inside of me. I admit that I’m vain enough to want children, someone to pass my legacy on to. I wish we could’ve had them together. You would make a wonderful mother.

  I’m sorry that I got so caught up with the future I envisioned for us that I forgot to include you, to ask if you shared the same dream. It will always be my biggest regret. I wish you would’ve given me a chance to explain. I don’t know why you didn’t. I’d have slowed down in my planning—all you had to do was ask. Or maybe I should’ve known you were scared. I know I also got caught up in making a success of my business. Again, I was working so hard for us—for you. It was all for you. I will never live in the house I purchased for us. It would hurt too much to spend any time there. But I can’t part with it, either. Call me stupid or sentimental, but I’ll keep it and hope and pray that one day you’ll come back to me. If not, then I know I will find someone who will love and appreciate it as much as I do. That house connects me to you.

  I wish I could change things. But I can’t and I must live with my actions. I must live with the knowledge that it was through my hand, my selfishness to prove to you t
hat I can give you everything you want, that I destroyed what was given freely to me: Your love. Your light. Your smile. Just know that I hope one day I will be able to give you this letter and show you that nothing is more important to me than you and your happiness.

  I love you, Nora, for all eternity.

  Your Jack

  The last page of the letter slipped through his fingers, his own heart hurting at the pain in every word that Dad had written. He leaned back against the cushions of the couch and closed his eyes.

  He wished Charlotte was here beside him. He wished he could share this last letter with her. He wished he could’ve shared all the letters with her. The romance between Dad and this Nora was beautiful and fulfilling, just like his father had said. But even Gage could see from the pleading in the words Nora wrote that she was struggling with Jack’s passion for work and his actions toward her. She didn’t say it in so many words, and maybe Gage could see it better because he was an outsider.

  But why was Nora so unsure of her place in Jack’s life?

  He picked up the letter again. He knew Dad was sending him a message, and as he read the second to last line again, he knew what his father meant. For so long Gage had coveted the land—the land Dad had bought for the love of his life. Dad would never have mined it. It was supposed to have been his family’s home. And he’d kept the house clean and well-maintained in the hope that one day Nora would return. Then Jack placed the letters in the box he had made in the one place he knew they’d be safe.

  Always hoping that Nora would come back to him.

  Dad had finally given up the hope of a future of happiness on that land. And then Dad had met Charlotte. He’d seen a light in her and had known she would love the land like he had. Had Dad also seen something in Charlotte that he’d known would attract Gage? Had Dad played matchmaker in his last months on earth?

  Just thinking about Charlotte caused his heart to ache. Was this how Dad had felt when he saw Nora riding away in a stranger’s car? Gage knew that if he saw Charlotte driving away like that, he wouldn’t be able to go on.

  In that instant he knew. He knew with everything in him.

  He loved her.

  He loved Charlotte with the same intensity that Dad had loved Nora. Deep inside of him, Gage knew that if somehow Charlotte changed her mind and gave him the land, he wouldn’t be able to mine it. The two visits they’d spent at the house had been times he would cherish.

  Hadn’t he even imagined a future there with her? A future with their kids. A future where he and his brothers grilled out while their kids played together. And Dad, that wily old bastard, had worked out that Gage needed a woman who would turn his focus from business to love. That was exactly what Charlotte had done. Over the time they’d been living together, he’d found himself becoming less intense about needing to prove himself.

  He suspected that, like Dad, he was a one-woman man—and that Charlotte was that woman for him.

  The key to everything is happiness.

  Yes, he’d been happier than ever with Charlotte in his life, and some of their best times had been at the house in Sweet Ridge. The house Dad had bought for his love—Nora.

  He gazed around his stark, soulless apartment. This wasn’t his home. His home was with Charlotte, and he knew exactly how he could show her that she was first in his life, not the black gold that lived under layers of rocks and soil he’d coveted for so long. From now on, he was going to covet Charlotte. Like the line in Dad’s letter, nothing was more important to him than Charlotte and her happiness.

  He just had to win her back.

  CHAPTER 25

  Charlotte dumped her laptop bag on her desk. All she wanted to do was go to the hotel, collapse in a heap, and sleep until she couldn’t sleep anymore. But she knew she would have a million things to catch up on in the office. And judging by the pile of papers in her in-tray, she would be here till midnight.

  The day after she’d walked out on Gage, she’d been sent out to the site that had the spill the day of their interview with the immigration officer. The problems had kept coming, so she’d ended up staying a week and a half. And not once had Gage tried to contact her except for one call the night she’d walked out. She had cried herself to sleep that night. The bed had seemed so big and lonely without Gage.

  After the third day with no contact from Gage, she didn’t need to be hit over the head with a sledgehammer to know that what they’d shared was over. She had thought he’d at least try more than once to call her. She supposed now that she was back, she would need to contact the immigration lawyer and halt the process for the green card. And she would have to look at flights back to Australia. But before all of that, she had to get through today. The weekend loomed in a few hours. At least last weekend she had been out of town, so she’d had her work to help keep her mind off Gage.

  Charlotte yawned again. Sleep had been as elusive as the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. She picked up the top item in her tray: a report about an ecological study of a tract of land and the impact that drilling said land would have on the natural flora and fauna inhabiting it.

  The words blurred in front of her. It was hopeless. She wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything and be useful without sleep. She’d take a few reports home with her and read them over the weekend.

  “Oh, hey, Charlotte, I didn’t realize you’d returned.” Meredith stood in the doorway of her office.

  “I just got in, but I think I might head home. I’m exhausted—it’s been a long week and half.”

  “Yeah, I saw some of the e-mails you sent at all hours of the morning. I don’t think the boss will mind you leaving early, especially since it’s Friday. And I bet you’re anxious to see that yummy husband of yours.”

  Charlotte fought to keep the smile on her face. Having to tell everyone in the office that her marriage was over wasn’t something she really wanted to do just yet—although it would have to be said soon. She hated having to tell Allen she no longer planned to stay in the States so she couldn’t stay with the company. There went her chance to get a good work recommendation from him.

  “Yes, I am anxious to get home,” she responded, a noncommittal answer at best. “Was there something you wanted, Meredith?”

  The sooner Meredith left, the sooner she could get back home—no, to the hotel. Charlotte didn’t have a home anymore.

  “Oh yes, this parcel arrived the other day, and for some reason I forgot to put it on your desk. I was just coming to do it when I saw you here.”

  “Thanks.” She held out her hand for it. “I think I’ll take this and leave now.”

  “Have a good weekend, Charlotte.” Meredith waved as she backed out of her office.

  Charlotte studied the parcel. It was wrapped in plain brown paper, giving her no idea who sent it, as there was no return address. Whatever was in the box was light. Even though the temptation to open it was strong, she wanted to wait until she could guarantee she wouldn’t get interrupted.

  Setting the box back down on her desk, she picked up the pile of mail and took a quick look through it. Nothing was terribly urgent, so it could all wait until she returned to the office on Monday.

  Collecting all her belongings and the box, she headed out the office door, wishing that instead of a lonely hotel room, she was heading home to Gage’s welcoming arms.

  • • •

  The shower revived her so she felt a little more like herself. Charlotte finished blow-drying her hair and walked out of the bathroom. The parcel sat in the middle of one of the double beds in the room. Now she could open it.

  She wrestled with the tape. Whoever had wrapped it had done a great job. Giving up on using her fingernails after another one broke, she opened her suitcase and pulled out the small pocketknife she always traveled with. Finally, the tape gave and she was able to get a grip on the paper. She peeled back the layers until she found a rectangular-shaped wooden box. It immediately reminded her of the box Gage had found filled with Jack’
s letters. Tears filled her eyes.

  Had he read any more of his father’s letters? She dashed away the tears and any thoughts of Gage. What they had was over.

  Inside the box she found a small key. Was this some kind of joke? She shuffled through the papers until she found an envelope with her name scrawled across the front of it.

  Gage’s handwriting.

  Her heart skipped a beat at the symbolic nature of the parcel she’d been sent. Opening the envelope, she pulled out the piece of paper.

  My darling, sweet Texas fire,

  I’m hoping that you are reading this and haven’t torn it up when you worked out the parcel was from me.

  I have a request and I hope you won’t deny me. Even though I know I don’t deserve it, I hope you will agree to my request so that I can explain. I have so much I want to say to you, Red. So very much.

  I will be down at Sweet Ridge this weekend and every weekend for the rest of my life, waiting and hoping that one day you will come and visit. I will be parked in the driveway of your house (I hope you won’t sell it) at 11 a.m. every Saturday until I’m unable to visit it anymore.

  Until Saturday…

  Love,

  Gage

  Charlotte folded the notecard, and the light caught the diamond of her engagement ring. She hadn’t taken the rings off. She touched the diamond. The rings were so gorgeous and so expensive, more than a marriage that was only a “business arrangement” had really deserved. A marriage based on love deserved the rings that adorned her finger.

  She looked at the key and the note. Did she have the courage to go and see him, to hear what he had to say? Could she even trust what he had to say? Had her leaving awakened him to the fact that he didn’t get everything he wanted with a smile and a healthy bank account? Would he even follow through on his declaration and go to the house every weekend? She immediately squashed that thought. While he’d gone back on his word about the survey, she didn’t think he’d go back on this. He’d sent her a note. A handwritten note with a key—exactly like what Jack had left him when he’d died. And Jack had written notes to his Nora. Yes, Gage would wait every Saturday for the rest of his life down at Sweet Ridge.