But love?
Shane sighed and signaled the waitress. “Damned if I know.”
Seven
Ben & Jerry’s was a sad substitute for sex with Shane.
But, since it was all Rachel had, she indulged. Curled up on the couch, with the TV muted and showing some old black-and-white movie, she dug her spoon into the chocolate chunk ice cream. One bite after another slid down her throat despite the huge knot lodged there.
“Idiot,” she muttered, pausing to lick her spoon. If she had any spine at all, she’d be out tonight, doing some Christmas shopping. Getting on with her life. Forgetting about Shane.
Apparently, though, her spine was pretty much a wet noodle.
She glanced around the room, sighing. But for the three Hollyberry scented candles burning in a twisted metal candelabrum on top of the entertainment center, there were absolutely no decorations up. This just wasn’t like her.
Ordinarily Rachel was a real Christmas nut. Nothing she liked better than dragging out all of the boxes filled with her Christmas goodies. Stuffed animals, three crèches, hand knit stockings she’d made during her knitting phase, silk garland and the wreath she’d made the Christmas before.
But no. She couldn’t get her mind off her troubles long enough to care about the most magical season of the year.
“Just pitiful,” she murmured and dipped her spoon back into the carton for another chunk of chocolate.
When the phone rang, she ignored caller ID and all but lunged for it, desperate to hear a voice other than her own. That feeling lasted less than ten seconds.
“Honey,” her mother cooed in a voice pitched to carry over fifty thousand screaming fans in Yankee Stadium. “I’m so glad you’re home!”
“Hi, Mom.” Rachel swallowed fast and instantly took another bite of chocolate. She loved her mother, she really did. But every year about this time, Celeste Adler started in on the “you’re not getting any younger” speech. Her mother was bound and determined to get her older daughter married and “settled.” Rachel’s younger sister, Rita, had been married two years and the “perfect” daughter was already pregnant. With twins.
So basically, even if Rachel got pregnant right this minute, Rita would still outdo her.
Pregnant.
For just an instant, she allowed herself a brief, tantalizing dream. One night with Shane and a baby to remember it by. Wouldn’t that have been something? She sighed and took another bite of ice cream. No way. Her birth control pills were way too effective. Other women might have an accident, but Rachel wouldn’t. Even her body was a rule follower.
“Rita had an ultrasound this morning and she let me come in with her and ohmygoodness—” that last was crammed into one breathless word “—it was the most exciting thing ever. You know, Rita’s husband Jack is just the most wonderful man.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. Jack would never be simply Jack. His full name from now unto eternity would be Rita’s Husband Jack. Poor man. But then, she told herself as she crunched quietly on an extra big chunk of chocolate, no one had held a gun to his head. He’d dated Rita for two years. He knew exactly the kind of whacko family he was marrying into.
Not whacko in a bad way of course. She loved them all. But did she really need to hear a speech every year about how she was all alone? Thanks, no.
“He gave me a big hug and called me Grandma right there in the doctor’s office, isn’t that the sweetest thing?”
Suck-up, she thought, but said only, “Yep. Jack’s a keeper.”
“Oh my yes, and I just cried and cried. I’m so emotional about my girls, you know.”
Rachel’s spoon scraped the bottom of the carton and she frowned. Darn it. Only a couple bites left. She should have been more prepared. She knew darn well that her mother called every Wednesday night without fail. She should have stocked extra ice cream.
“I know, Mom.”
“And Rita’s thinking of naming one of the babies after me, if one is a girl, that is.”
Great. Just what the world needed. Another Celeste.
“That’s nice.” Rachel tucked the phone between her neck and her shoulder and shifted a look at the television screen. It’s a Wonderful Life was playing. Of course it was. It had become almost more of a tradition than Midnight Mass.
While her mother talked, Rachel concentrated on George Bailey’s trials and tribulations. As he stood at the top of the bridge looking into the icy river, Rachel completely understood why he was considering the leap.
“So, honey, anything new to tell me?”
Rachel froze, silently thanking God that her mother was safely tucked up in her house in Connecticut. If Celeste was looking right at her, she could use her motherly psychic powers and know exactly what her daughter had been up to.
That was one humiliation she didn’t have to suffer through, anyway.
“Nope,” she said after way too long a pause, “same ol’, same ol’…”
“Uh-huh, that’s nice, dear. Did I tell you that Margie Fontenot’s grandson Will is coming to town for Christmas this year?”
Oh God. She knew what was coming. Another fix-up. Frantically Rachel scraped at the ice cream carton, hoping for more chocolate—which she now so desperately needed. “Really?”
“Oh, yes,” her mother continued excitedly, “he’s a doctor, you know.”
Oh man, Celeste’s Holy Grail.
Hook a doctor for poor Rachel.
“That’s nice,” she said ambiguously, scrambling off the couch, clutching the empty ice-cream carton and spoon. Hustling into the kitchen, she tossed the carton into the trash, the spoon into the sink, then turned to the pantry. While her mother oohed and aahed over Margie’s fabulous grandson, Rachel scrounged for cookies. Preferably chocolate cookies.
She settled for a stale Pop-Tart.
Taking a bite, she leaned against the counter and closed her eyes. Only have to hang on a few more minutes, she assured herself. Celeste’s calls never went longer than ten minutes. Long distance charges, donchaknow.
“Anyway, honey,” her mother said, then muttered, “oh Frank, go watch TV. Rachel knows I’m only trying to help.” When she came back again, she said, “Your daddy says hello, honey.”
Rachel smiled in spite of everything. God bless her father. Always trying to reel his wife in when her latest matchmaking attempt kicked in. “Hi back.”
“She says hello. Yes,” Celeste added, emphasizing the word with impatience, “I’ll tell her to check her door locks.”
Rachel grinned and chewed a rock-hard, cold toaster pastry. Her mom was only interested in romance or the promise of one. Her father, on the other hand, installed a new lock on Rachel’s door every time they came to the city. Pretty soon she was going to have to buy an extra door to accommodate them all.
“Check your locks.”
“Already done.”
“Thank heaven.” Celeste lowered her booming voice and Rachel knew it was because she was trying to avoid having her husband overhear. “Anyway, honey, we’re giving a little party the weekend before Christmas this year. Nothing special. Just a few friends.”
“Like Margie?” Rachel guessed, barely containing the helpless snarl as she tore off another chunk of dry Pop-Tart.
“Of course, honey, you know how fond I am of Margie,” her mother went on, picking up speed as she finally reached her destination. “And of course, since Will is here in town visiting, he’ll be attending, too. Won’t that be nice? I just know you two will have so much in common.”
Rachel sighed. “Where’s he live?”
“Phoenix, I believe.”
Well sure, Rachel thought. She lived in Manhattan and worked at a magazine. Will was a doctor living in Phoenix. So much in common it was uncanny. Almost eerie. Must be Kismet.
God, the pity just kept on coming. It was her own fault, though. If she hadn’t spent so much time thinking about Shane, maybe she could have met someone else by now. Someone she actually might have a future with. Sh
e took another bite.
“Mom…”
“Now, don’t you get your back up, young lady,” her mother said, clearly hoping to disarm Rachel before she could get a head of steam going. “It’s Christmas. It’s a time for having friends and family together and we’re going to be together. Understood?”
Rachel’s chin hit her chest.
If she were George Bailey at this moment, she’d be jumping off that bridge. And if stupid Clarence saved her sorry butt, she’d just have to kill him.
But as much as she might like to refuse her mother’s invitation, they both knew she wouldn’t. She’d never missed Christmas with her family and she wasn’t going to start now. “Understood, Mom. I’ll be there.”
“That’s my girl,” Celeste cooed again, gracious in victory. “So, would you like me to e-mail you a picture of the twins in utero?”
“Sure,” she said. “Why not?”
After all, once those twins were born, they were going to take a lot of heat off of Rachel.
“I’ll do that right away, honey. But first I have to call your sister and make sure she’s all right.”
“But you just saw her this morning.” Rachel frowned at the magnetized grocery list stuck to the refrigerator. Picking up a pen, she scrawled CHOCOLATE in capital letters and underlined it half a dozen times just for emphasis.
“Pregnant women need taking care of,” her mother assured her.
“Okey dokey, then,” Rachel said with a sigh. “Say hi to Rita for me.”
“I will. Now good night, honey, and your dad just said for you to check your locks again. We love you!”
With those final words ringing in her ear, Rachel heard her mother hang up and then listened aimlessly to the dial tone humming frenetically. She loved her mother, but after one of these phone calls, Rachel always felt a little disappointed in her own life.
Or rather, her lack of a life.
Christmas time and the only romance in her future was a setup fixed by her mother.
Stabbing the power button, she turned the phone off and carried it and what was left of her stale treat into the living room. Once there, she curled up on the couch again and turned up the volume on the movie.
And if a few tears escaped and rolled silently down her cheeks, who but she would know about it?
Shane stood outside Rachel’s apartment door and asked himself again what the hell he was doing there. He should have just gone home after leaving Gannon in the bar. But instead, he’d found himself heading for Rachel’s.
Which said exactly what?
That he was still uncomfortable with the way they’d left things at the office? That he still felt like a sleazy boss for having sex with his assistant? That he simply wanted to see her again?
Yes, to all of the above.
It wasn’t a good idea, though, and he knew it.
And even as that thought shot through his brain, he lifted his hand and knocked on her door.
“Shane?” Her voice was muffled. “What’re you doing here?”
He glanced up and down the hallway, then directly into the peephole he knew she was watching him through. “I wanted to talk to you, Rachel.”
“About what?”
He didn’t hear any locks turning and she sure wasn’t opening the door.
“Do you think I could come inside?”
“Why?”
He blew out a breath, leaned into the peephole and said, “Because I don’t want to have this conversation in the hallway.”
“Fine.”
At last, he heard the distinctive sounds of a chain being dragged off and several dead bolts clacking. When she opened the door, he stepped inside before she could change her mind.
“What do you want, Shane?”
He glanced quickly around the room, took a sniff of Christmas-scented air, then turned his gaze on her. Her blond hair was loose, waving over her shoulders. She wore a white cut-off T-shirt and pale green sweatpants that hung low on her hips, baring several inches of flat, toned belly. She was barefoot and her toes were painted a dark, sexy red.
A blast of heat and need shot through him, rocking him to his bones.
She still had the door open, one hand gripping the knob as if for support. Her wary gaze was locked on him and Shane nearly regretted coming over here. Nearly.
“Afraid to close the door?” he teased. “Worried about what might happen?”
She slammed it shut. “No.”
Turning her back on him, she walked to her sofa, sat down in one corner of it and drew her knees to her chest. Focusing her attention on the television set, she proceeded to ignore him. Completely.
What kind of twisted guy was he that he was enjoying this?
He took a seat on the sofa, too, but watched her instead of the TV. “I just thought we should talk.”
“Ah,” she said, not taking her eyes off the old movie on the television, “because it went so well earlier today.”
“No, because it didn’t.”
She sighed, tightened her arms around her updrawn legs and said, “Shane, there’s absolutely nothing left to say, you know?”
“We can’t just leave it like this, Rachel.”
Finally she shifted a look at him and he saw her eyes, green and soft, and felt a ripple of something warm move through him.
“I know,” she said quietly. “I’ve been thinking about it all night.”
Shane’s insides fisted. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what was coming next. The expression on her face warned him that whatever she was thinking, it wasn’t pleasant. Still, he’d never been a coward. “And what did you come up with?”
“There’s really only one thing to do.”
“Yeah?” Wary now, he kept his gaze fixed on hers and saw regret flash quickly across the surface of her eyes. He braced himself and even then, he wasn’t prepared for what she said next.
“I’m turning in my two weeks notice.”
Eight
“What?”
It did Rachel’s heart good to see how shocked he was by her resignation. But it didn’t change anything. In the last couple of hours, she’d done a lot of thinking.
She’d sat through George Bailey’s problems, watched the resolution and cried when Clarence got his wings. But somewhere during her movie marathon, she’d come to grips with what she knew she had to do.
Her heart ached, but there was simply no other reasonable option. If she stayed at The Buzz, working with Shane, she’d never be able to move on with her life. She’d always be in love with him. No other man would be able to compare to him, so she’d end up alone and watching old Christmas movies in the dark by herself.
So as painful as this was, there really wasn’t any choice.
“What’re you talking about?” Shane demanded, jumping to his feet and glaring down at her. “You can’t quit.”
“I just did.” She met his gaze squarely and hoped he couldn’t read on her face the misery she was feeling.
“This is your solution? Running away?”
“I’m not running, I’m sitting.”
“If that’s a joke, I’m not smiling.”
“Neither am I,” she said, unfolding her legs and pushing off the couch. Starting to feel just a little bit cornered, she made a move to walk into the kitchen, but Shane’s hand on her upper arm stopped her in her tracks. She stared down at his hand for a long couple of seconds before lifting her gaze to his.
He let her go, jammed his hands into his pockets and muttered, “You can’t quit on me, Rachel. Not because—”
“You can’t even say it,” she said with a slow shake of her head. “Because we had sex, Shane. And I think it’s a pretty good reason to quit.”
“I don’t.” He pulled his hands free of his pockets, scooped them both through his hair, then let them fall to his sides. “Damn it, we’re a team. We work great together. You really want to throw away four good years because of one night?”
No. What she wanted was to have more
than one night, but she couldn’t very well tell him that, now could she? Just as she couldn’t tell him that it would be impossible for her to pretend indifference to him now that she knew what it was like to be in his arms. How could she arrange his dates with other women when her own heart would be breaking?
“No.” One word, firmly spoken. “You don’t need me, Shane. You won the competition. You’re the head honcho now.”
“Which means I’ll need you even more.”
“No, it doesn’t. You’re just used to having me there. You’ll survive.” She wasn’t entirely sure she would, but that was her problem.
“Don’t do this, Rachel.”
“I have to.”
“I won’t accept your resignation.”
She smiled. At the core of him, Shane Elliott would always have a healthy ego. “That won’t stop me.”
“What will?”
“Nothing.”
He stepped in close. So close that the scent of his cologne reached for her, dragging her in closer for a deeper breath. She closed her eyes. If she looked up into those green eyes of his, she’d be lost. If she saw his mouth only inches from hers, she wouldn’t be able to resist taking another taste of him.
His hands dropped onto her shoulders and she felt the heat of his touch slide deep within her.
“I won’t stop trying to change your mind,” he warned, his voice deep, ragged.
“I know that.”
His hands tightened on her. “Look at me.”
“I’d rather not,” she admitted.
He sighed. “I came over here tonight to—I don’t know. Apologize for last night?”
She winced.
He stroked one hand over her hair, his fingers sliding through the silky strands. “But now that I’m here with you again, an apology is the last thing on my mind.”
“Shane—”
“Open your eyes, Rachel.”
She did and instantly felt swamped by the emotions churning in his gaze. Her stomach dipped and rolled, her heartbeat jumped into a fast gallop and a curl of something warm and delicious settled low inside her. “Shane, this isn’t a good idea.”
Dynasties:The Elliots, Books 7-12 Page 78
