With him.
Knowing she would never find out what was going on unless they actually had a heart-to-heart, she tucked a pillow under the child’s head.
A little angel, she thought for the first time in her life, that warmth still suffusing her at the idea of a daughter—or a son—of her own.
Trying not to let her emotions run away from her, she passed Davis in the entryway, then pulled shut the door behind her as they stood in the front room.
He reached out to grasp the hem of her blouse, kissing her in a quiet hello. “I thought I’d drop by to say hi.”
She smiled again, but he had that flirty grin on his face, and she almost hated to wipe it off with an unpleasant subject.
Then he extracted a creamy envelope from his inside jacket pocket and gave it to her.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Information about your free-for-all at a day spa in Houston. There’s a personal shopper there who’s waiting to take you on another spree, and you’ve got an appointment in the salon and also a massage… .” He must’ve read the look on her face, because he trailed off. “What’s wrong?”
A makeover.
“Davis,” she said, “I told you, it’s too much.”
“I’d spend all I have on you. You know that.”
“I’m not just talking about money or gifts.”
Gradually, she saw the understanding cloud his eyes, and she knew that the time for fun had ended.
* * *
When Davis had spied Violet with Rita Niles’s little girl, he’d been thunderstruck with an emotion he was hard-pressed to identify, even now.
Seeing Violet with the girl had brought on a strange fantasy that he hadn’t considered much before—him and Violet, in the future, with kids. A family.
The sight made everything even more real. He’d only wanted to make her happy, win her over, take up where their youthful affections had left off…but this?
It overwhelmed him almost to the point of panic.
Had he ever separated himself from the superficial kid he used to be? Or was he still the boy he’d been at eighteen, never progressing emotionally with all his casual dates and his focus on being someone other than a rich kid?
Even worse, it was clear from the way Violet had just reacted to his offer of a shopping spree and makeover that something odd was going on with her. She told him that he was giving her too much, but was that really it?
Was the teenager in him still ultra-aware of Violet’s status in this community—the miner’s daughter? Had he been attempting to truly make her over so the people in his world would finally accept her?
See? he thought, fear gnawing in his stomach again. This is what happens when things get serious. That was why he’d never done serious, especially after being crushed by her the first time.
“Violet,” he said, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake up the sleeping girl in the other room. “I’m sorry if these gifts make you feel like—”
“—I’m still the girl you have to date in secret?”
It was twisted, but true, and he hadn’t even seen it happening until too late.
Maybe he wasn’t made for relationships, and that was the bottom line. But even thinking that made his heart rip at the edges.
What had he wanted from Violet?
What did he want now?
He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, wishing he could take the envelope back. But she was holding onto it tightly.
“Davis, I have to tell you something.” She bent the envelope as her hand fisted. “I got a call this morning, from an editor at the San Francisco Chronicle.”
He froze. Suddenly it was as if the ceiling was cracking above him, sifting dust and rubble in a prelude to what was to come.
She added, “He wants me to fly out for a job interview.”
That’s when the ceiling crashed down on him. Not literally, but her announcement had all the impact of that day fifteen years ago when he’d known that they were over. The realization that he didn’t mean anything to her and getting out of St. Valentine was so much more important to Violet than he was.
So many warnings, so many times he hadn’t listened. Hell, he’d just been having doubts about what they were to each other, too.
He should’ve listened to them… .
Violet stepped toward him, dropping the envelope on the floor. “Davis—”
“Do you want that job?”
The same pause that had split the air years ago when he’d asked her if she believed his mom’s lies forced a chasm between them now. The silence said nothing and everything, even as she answered.
“I did want a job just like it,” she said, her gaze glassy. “But…” She swallowed, then rushed right on. “But everything changed once I came back. It changed when I let you in, when I realized that I should never have left St. Valentine…or you.”
He could only stand there, fear tying him up. And, yeah, he finally could see it as fear, because he’d never expected her to say yes to him, to want more from him than he’d ever given to any other woman.
Did she want him to ask her to stay?
The thought of putting his heart out there for her to take made all the old memories, the anger, come rumbling back.
If she didn’t leave now, she was going to sometime. She had done it before when she’d supposedly loved him, so why not now, when they hadn’t actually committed to each other yet?
He thought of everything they’d already done wrong—she hadn’t yet definitively turned down the job offer, while he was trying to make her over—and he wondered if they were both intent on messing things up before they got too serious.
There was just too much hurt between them. Too much remaining agony for either one of them to ever say something simple like, “Please don’t go.”
That hurt might never go away.
Even Davis knew an excuse when it planted itself in his brain, but it felt like the only thing saving him right now.
His voice was strained when he said, “It might be a good opportunity for you, Vi,” and then headed for the door, leaving her before she could leave him this time.
* * *
Why?
The question kept bouncing through Violet as she watched him walk away in slow, cold motion, then close the door behind him.
Distantly it occurred to her that she couldn’t go after him, deserting Kristy as she slept in the other room. She thought of calling someone at the front desk to see if they could keep an eye on her, but she was still shaking from Davis’s response, and she needed a moment.
Or maybe even longer than that.
More questions ricocheted through her as she waited for Rita to return. Would Davis ever be able to get over their past? Was he so far into self-preservation mode that he would never be able to give himself up to her heart and soul?
She’d seen that anger return in him the second she’d told him about the interview in San Francisco, and it had made her panic, because she did love him. What they’d found as teenagers had never died and had only been shaped into a new form.
Was it the same for him, though? Or had he given up on her already?
Had it ever really been love for him?
When Rita returned from her errands, Violet was still too numb to tell her what had happened. Then, like an automaton, she went down to the saloon to start her shift, hoping the time away from Davis would allow her to come up with answers.
The place was empty during the postlunch lull, and her dad and mom were at the bar with Wiley Scott, talking over lemonades in mason jars. Violet thought she heard the word loan, but before she could be sure, everyone put on smiles, as if that would erase the comment.
Bu
t then they took a good look at Violet’s face and pulled her over to a seat at the bar.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
She wasn’t going to cry. Nope.
A gush of tears made her turn her face away. “Nothing.”
“Nothing, my butt,” Dad said while Mom slung an arm around Violet.
Wiley just sat there, seeming awkward as he ran a hand through his silver hair and then drank his lemonade.
It was no use. Holding these emotions in was too much.
“I got a job interview at a paper in San Francisco,” she said, her voice wavering.
Out of the corner of her blurred gaze, she saw her parents exchange glances.
Wiley tried to cut the tension by softly patting her on the back. “I knew you could do it. Always did know you’d conquer the world, even back when I owned the Recorder.”
When Violet couldn’t stop the tears, Wiley excused himself, then disappeared.
“It’s okay, Vi,” Mom said.
“No, it’s not. Things didn’t go very well with Davis when I told him. And…” Violet fixed her gaze on her mother, who looked so tired with her gray hair in a wilted bun, her eyes slightly red from the extended hours in the grill kitchen.
Dad sat with his beverage, his mouth in that straight, tight line.
“Listen,” Mom said. “We know you’ve gotten…close…to Davis again. You must’ve told him that you weren’t in town for the long run, so didn’t he expect an announcement like this?”
Dad interrupted. “I told you I saw the two of them at that dance marathon, and it seemed to me that Violet wasn’t about to go anywhere.”
Was that the reason her dad hadn’t chased off Davis that night or anytime afterward? Because he’d seen what was growing between them and had begun to accept it?
Violet swiped at her wet cheek. “If you’re thinking I let Davis believe there was a shot at a future with me…” She sighed heavily. “I did. Because I started thinking that maybe we could overcome all our issues.”
She’d fallen in love all over again, but she hadn’t been brave enough to say it to him. No, she had wanted to test him, to see if he would fall to his knees and profess love and ask her to stay first.
But why would he do that when he’d been burned in the past?
Dumb. She’d been so stubborn and dumb.
Dad set down his glass. “Can’t you both overcome those issues? Because the last thing I want is to see my little girl crying.”
Violet’s heart fisted at the care in Dad’s voice. “I thought you couldn’t stand Davis.”
“I wouldn’t choose him as my best buddy. But I’ve never seen you like you are when you’re around him, either—happy, excited, content. And I suppose Davis has got good intentions, even if he’s…”
It took a lot for her dad to say even that much, and his heartfelt efforts got to her. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Thanks for what?”
She didn’t know the answer until it clicked into place like a lock that was just about to be freed.
* * *
Davis had sheltered himself in his media and game room, bashing some pool balls into the table pockets with his cue stick. He’d turned on some TVs—one to the business channel with its Wall Street ticker running by, one to a channel that featured mindless repeats of a sitcom he’d never seen before and one on a digital music channel that played country music.
He kept the volume up on that one, blasting noise just so he wouldn’t have to listen to his brain screaming at him from different directions about Violet.
She’s really going to leave and it’ll be your fault.
She’s a part of your past.
He slammed the eight ball into a corner pocket so hard that it popped out and thudded onto the carpet.
“You’re upset,” yelled Lloyd over the music, as he entered the room. He accessed a remote to turn down the volume.
“What makes you think so?”
Davis’s assistant was holding a sheaf of papers—no doubt contracts of some sort—but he didn’t hand them over yet.
“If I were you,” Lloyd said, “I would stay away from the car barn.”
“I’m not driving anywhere today.”
“That’s right, you’re going to stay here and murder some balls. I approve. It’s far safer.”
“Do you want something?” Davis aimed for a striped ball, took his shot, but missed the pocket by a mile.
A curse ripped out of him.
Lloyd, looking so calm and put together in his linen business shirt, creased gray slacks and slicked dark hair, rested his hip on the table.
“What happened with her today?” he asked.
“Who?”
“You know who I’m talking about.”
Davis couldn’t even say her name. He was afraid if he did, he would lose what little pride he had left in himself, that he would go right back to her and lay himself out at her mercy, giving her the opportunity to tear him apart all over again.
Instead, he said, “She’s probably on her way across the country now for a job interview. And she probably won’t ever look back.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lloyd said, frowning. “She really was far better than your other ladies.”
Davis stood up from the shot he was about to take. “She wasn’t even in the same category.”
From the smug expression on Lloyd’s face, Davis could tell that the man had been baiting him.
Dammit. He laid down his cue stick, leaned against the table and released a jagged, pent-up breath. “I was scared to death, Lloyd, and I made sure today that she wasn’t going to break me again.”
Lloyd and Davis had enjoyed a few cocktails together over the years, so he’d heard the Story of Violet.
“Are you telling me,” he said, “that you intended all this time to teach her a lesson by dating her then ditching her?”
“No. It’s just that things started to get…deep.”
The last word was like a hammer blow, decisive, nailing Davis in place.
“Well,” Lloyd said, getting up from the table. “At least you have your pool balls left.”
“Small consolation.”
“Okay, then. You’ll sit here and mope instead. That’s far better.”
“I’m not moping.”
“This, my friend, is the very definition.”
As Lloyd left the papers on the table, walking toward the door, Davis said, “So what would you do?”
“Me?” Lloyd shrugged. “I would ask myself if Violet was worth putting my pride on the line.”
“It’s more than pride.” It was everything—his soul, his self-worth.
How had one woman come to own him so completely?
He knew—she was Violet. She was the one who made him laugh and forget the weight that often rested on his shoulders. She was the one who understood his demons and tried, right alongside him, to drive them away.
She was the one he wanted by his side for the rest of his life, even if he had to put his pride and soul at risk.
But would she eventually come to believe that she had given up too much for him? One day, would she wake up and regret turning down this job interview based only on a short love affair with an ex-boyfriend?
Lloyd was still watching him, and he smiled.
“I’ll drive,” he said, leaving the room.
As Davis realized that, all along, there had never been any doubt what he would and should do, he started to roll down his shirtsleeves. His blood raced, drawing him out of the room, racing through the house.
But…the future. He hadn’t thought of it before. What would he say besides I love you when he got to Violet?
&nbs
p; Did it matter right now, just as long as he showed her he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight?
He went to the foyer, then opened the front door.
And stood there, shocked.
Chapter Twelve
“Violet.” He sounded choked, overcome, as he pulled her into his arms.
In those strong, capable arms, she could feel the future. It was full of days she would never spend wishing she were somewhere else. It was full of knowing that he was and had always been the perfect partner, the perfect fit, and she would never again wonder if there was anything more to life.
He spoke again, his face buried in her hair. “I was on my way over to you to tell you that I love you, Vi. Once I stepped out of that room, I knew I had to go back. But I didn’t know how. I always loved you.”
Something inside of her expanded and filled her. Hope, happiness…
“I love you, too.” So easy to say now.
So right.
He smoothed back the hair that had escaped from the ribbon that had been holding it back from her face, and his gaze devoured her, his blue eyes full of emotion.
Now the words tumbled out of her, held back for too long. “I could’ve taken the easy way out this afternoon. That’s what the old me would’ve done. I would’ve escaped to the city or somewhere I wouldn’t have had to deal with the hurt I always manage to put you through.”
“But you stayed.”
“There wasn’t any other choice—not now. I couldn’t stand the thought of a life without you. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake I made the first time.”
“I would’ve come after you, no matter where you went.” He held her face in his hands.
Her entire body was one heartbeat, and she could feel Davis’s through his chest, too. Joined, never to be apart again.
She wrapped him in her arms again, unable to get enough of this, of him.
They stayed like that for what seemed to be hours, but time hardly mattered now. Eventually, though, he kissed her forehead, then lifted her high above him. A laugh burbled out of Violet as Davis twirled her once and she landed in his arms.
They looked into each other’s eyes, quiet now, as he carried her across the threshold, shutting the door with his foot, then brought her through the foyer and set her down on the third step on the grand, curved stairway leading to the second floor.
Courted by the Texas Millionaire Page 16
