by Donna Alward
What an idiot he’d been. Sex always changed things. He’d let his libido take over instead of his common sense. Something he hadn’t done in a very long time.
He couldn’t stand in the cold forever, so he turned the knob and went inside, taking a deep breath and preparing himself to be “on” as host. They still had to get through tonight and tomorrow morning. And the longer he could put off a conversation, the better. He had no idea what he was going to say.
Music was playing on the stereo and a fire crackled merrily in the fireplace. He took off his coat and boots and put them away, then made his way through to where the noise was coming from. He found Amy in the kitchen, a couple of the women of the group with her. All three had glasses of wine on the go. As Amy added pasta to a huge pot, another woman chopped vegetables for salad and the third was putting grated cheese on four long garlic bread halves.
“Hey, you’re back.” Amy noticed him there and he smiled. He could do this. They’d talk later, but for now nothing had changed. His pulse beat a warning at his throat.... The urge to back away warred with his very real desire for her. That was what scared him most. That he couldn’t seem to put her out of his mind, put their relationship in perspective. She’d awakened some dormant need in him that he really never wanted to feel again. He liked her. He was attracted to her. But it stopped there. Didn’t it?
“Yeah. The trails were great. We stayed out a bit longer than we planned.”
The woman he recognized as Mandy spoke up. “We sent the boys to get washed up for dinner. It won’t be long.”
“I see you recruited help,” he said, trying to relax his cheeks as he smiled so it wouldn’t look forced.
Amy shrugged. “We got talking on the way back from the spa. It’s been fun.”
“Amy was telling us all about you, Jack.”
His ears suddenly started to get warm. “Me?” The word sounded strangled. What happened to discreet?
Amy’s eyes twinkled at him. “I was telling them about your brother’s wedding and how you came into the women’s bathroom.”
“Oh, that.” Relief sluiced through him.
“It was very gallant of you, Jack.” The other woman—he thought her name was Shirley—jumped into the conversation. “And then you danced with her. Jack Shepard to the rescue.”
He felt as if he were choking. “It wasn’t that big of a deal, really.”
Amy took the tray of garlic bread and slid it into the oven. “Well, it saved my pride.”
Mandy scraped diced cucumber into the salad bowl. “How did you end up here, Amy?”
He watched as Amy straightened, met his gaze briefly and then turned away. “Jack’s regular coordinator was in an accident. I’m going to be studying hospitality management in the fall. I offered to come down and help him out for a few weeks.”
“So it’s just business? Even after that romantic wedding dance?”
He met Amy’s gaze again. Boy, wasn’t he in a hard place now. If he said no, it meant there was definitely something between them. That it was personal. Which of course it was, but he wasn’t anywhere close to being comfortable with it. And if he said yes, it was basically telling Amy that last night didn’t matter.
He could at least explain to her later, couldn’t he? Surely she’d understand. She’d been very conscious about what the guests thought all week.
“Just business,” he confirmed. “Amy’s been a lifesaver during your visit. I couldn’t have run this week without her.”
He couldn’t look at her face, but he saw out of the corner of his eye how she turned back to the stove and stirred the pasta.
“Excuse me, ladies. I’d better go wash up for dinner.”
He nodded and slipped from the room, a sense of dread settling heavily in his stomach. What he was feeling for Amy couldn’t be love. He knew that. And he hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings.
But it was clear he’d been fooling himself into believing she was like the other women he’d dated over the years. None of them had been serious. All of them had known he wasn’t in the market for anything permanent and at the end they’d parted amicably. It had all been very civilized.
He’d thought it could be the same with Amy. And it wasn’t. She wasn’t a casual-affair kind of girl, was she? He’d known that from the start and had ignored it. Now he’d have to find a way to let her down gently.
One thing was for sure. He wasn’t going to tackle that mountain until his clients were on their way back to California and the house was their own. If a private conversation was going to go badly, he preferred that his business wasn’t brought into it.
Chapter Eleven
Once the van and SUV had pulled away, Amy let the smile she’d been holding for what felt like hours slip away from her lips.
Maybe she should forget all about working in the hospitality field and go into acting. Because she’d sure done a lot of that over the past twenty-four hours.
She let out a big breath and turned away from the window, then headed upstairs to the guest rooms, where she began viciously stripping sheets from the beds. In no time she had the first load of bedding in the washer and she had a load of towels ready to go next. Then she set about dusting and vacuuming each room, and scoured the bathrooms from top to bottom. By the time Jack was back from the airport, she’d stripped down to a T-shirt and her hair was coming out of her ponytail in little wisps as the exertion of the morning’s tasks worked out her frustrations and she tried to make sense of her feelings. All she came up with was that she was mad. Mad at Jack for pushing her aside. And mad at herself for not foreseeing this would happen.
“Wow. You’ve whipped through here like a tornado.” Jack’s rich voice came across the room as she switched sheets over into the dryer.
“It needed to be done, and the house was quiet.” She straightened, put her hands on her lower back and stretched. Did he have to sound so damned cheerful? “It seems quiet with everyone gone.”
“Just you and me,” he said, and silence stretched out uncomfortably between them.
She set the timer and hit the button. She’d had all morning to think and wonder. Wonder why Jack had conveniently stayed up late talking with guests last night. Why he’d offered a bland “good night” when she’d finally announced she was going off to bed. He hadn’t kissed her, hadn’t given her the least bit of encouragement that they were okay. She wasn’t stupid. She knew regret and withdrawal when she saw it. She’d seen it enough times, after all.
“Yeah. Just you and me. Nowhere for you really to hide now, is there?”
She faced him evenly. The old Amy would have smiled and tried to make nice. Would have turned on the charm. Might have been a bit needy, too. But being away—even such a short time—had changed her. There was no one else around to remind her of old patterns. No one to think “how typically Amy” except for the voice whispering in her own ear. And she was getting better at telling that voice to be quiet. She was done settling for scraps. And scraps were all Jack had given her in the end.
And then there was Jack himself. On that first strange and magical night at the wedding, he’d said something to her. Something about doing better than Rhys because she deserved someone who wanted to be with her. Only with her. Who couldn’t go on another day without her. And he had been right.
In the close quarters of the past week, in the intimate moments and because of the undeniable attraction, she’d let herself forget that. But she remembered now. And the truth was, she did have regrets.
She sighed, looking into his ever-so-handsome face. Jack was gorgeous. Rich. Successful. Funny. And for the first time in her life she realized she deserved better.
He frowned at her. “Who’s hiding?”
He wasn’t going to make this conversation easy, was he? She was going to have to ask. And it was humiliating. It re
minded her of all the times she’d been pushed aside and she’d pathetically wondered what was wrong with her—frequently out loud.
She moved past him and into the main working area of the kitchen. “Look, Jack. I promised myself that no matter what happened between us I wasn’t going to be needy or clingy. So I’m not. Your actions yesterday spoke loudly enough.”
She heard him sigh heavily. “I knew deep down that if we did this, it would become a thing.”
Her temper flared just a bit at his dismissive tone. “A thing? Wow, Jack. I told you that I understood your position on a relationship. You think I went to your room the other night under some delusion that this was more than it is?”
“Did you?”
She stopped and thought about it for a moment. Knew that the best way to say what she had to say was face-to-face so she turned to him, even though she could feel her cheeks flame. “No, I didn’t. I wanted you. We’ve both been very clear about what we want and more importantly what we don’t want. You don’t want a relationship. I don’t want to get derailed from my plans. Give me a little credit, please.”
She tried very hard to ignore the little swirl of guilt that said she was at least partially lying. She hadn’t gone to his room with any delusions. But she’d left his room in a very different state of mind.
“Things change when people become...intimate.”
“Did I lead you to believe anything had changed?”
There was a beat of silence. “No, you didn’t.”
The stupid thing was, it had changed. In the moment they’d come together something had shifted inside her. Clicked into place. Like she was meant to be in this moment with this particular man. That it was perfect. That he was perfect.
She’d been looking for that feeling of rightness for such a long time. And when it came, it had scared the crap out of her. Because it wasn’t—couldn’t be—real. Not with Jack.
But at least she’d been willing to enjoy whatever was between them for the duration. Leaving Jack would be hard but she knew it was how it had to be and she’d accepted that.
But Jack...he’d withdrawn. That was what really hurt.
She lifted her eyes and met his. “Were you disappointed? Is that it?”
“Disappointed?” His eyes flashed, the first real sign of emotion she’d seen from him in over twenty-four hours. “You think I am disappointed in what happened?” He took a step toward her. “In you?”
“Why else would you withdraw? Make things so...cool between us? I’ve seen the brush-off, Jack. I’m well versed in it. Yours was classic. Just enough contact to keep things from blowing up. A little kiss. A smile. A nice gesture, like the spa. But definitely keeping your distance. I’m not stupid, Jack. There were opportunities if you’d wanted to take advantage of them.”
For the first time she could remember, Jack blushed. He cleared his throat roughly. “I was not disappointed. Not in that night. Definitely not in you. Let’s get that straight right from the beginning.”
The words sent a shaft of heat rushing through her. If he wasn’t disappointed, then what?
An alternative popped into her mind but she brushed it away. No, it wasn’t possible. Jack must be worried about her feeling too much for him, not the other way around. He wasn’t that guy. He was older, more experienced and very, very sure of himself. The idea that “things changed” for Jack because of one night of sex was impossible.
“Then why did you back away?”
His gaze shifted to the side. “We did still have guests in the house. Ones you said had already speculated about us. I didn’t want to give them any confirmation of that. It’s a professional business.”
He was parroting her own excuse back to her. Clever. Or not. Because he’d seen fit to put his arm around her on the sleigh, to go on an intimate dogsled ride for two, to flirt openly and kiss her in front of everyone on New Year’s Eve.
He was covering. Why else would he look away?
Softly, very softly, she said, “You’re lying. I don’t know why, but you are.”
She turned and left the kitchen, her heart thrumming against the wall of her chest. Where had this confident woman come from? Maybe she’d been inside all along. Amy rather suspected that she’d hid this side of herself behind the good-time facade because she was afraid of showing her true self to anyone. Afraid of being vulnerable enough to let anyone really hurt her. Because the truth was, despite all the failed relationship attempts, two men had come close to breaking her heart years ago. Her father when he walked out. And Terry when he’d walked away as if she’d meant nothing. She really hadn’t let anyone else in since.
Until Jack. And she was all right there because they’d already laid out the ground rules. Or that had been the plan, anyway. Boom.
She was nearly to the stairs when Jack said her name.
“Amy. Wait.”
“Wait for what?” She turned with her hand on the banister. “Now that everyone’s gone you’re going to whisk me away for an hour of bliss?”
Problem with that was, it actually sounded quite heavenly....
“That wasn’t what I was going to say.”
“I know. Just the same as I know your guest excuse is bogus. Because we had guests the night before. If you’d wanted to be with me, you would have gone to bed instead of staying up. You would have found a moment to tell me to meet you in your room, or you would have come to mine, or you would have found a window of opportunity to steal a kiss and make a plan. You didn’t.”
She began walking up the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
The answer was instantly clear to her, and came as quite a surprise considering the pains she’d taken to get away from home. “You’ve got another couple of days before the next group comes in. Chuck’s staying on to cook and the bookwork is pretty much caught up. I’m sure you can find someone to change the sheets and launder the towels for a few days. I’d like to go back to Cadence Creek.”
She got one good look at his gaping mouth and felt guilty...and perhaps a bit dramatic. But she was done with begging, done with wasting her time with men who didn’t think she was good enough.
Especially with men who had the power to hurt her. And Jack did. More than he possibly knew. And she never wanted him to know that painful truth.
* * *
JACK STOOD LOOKING up the stairs. He could hear Amy’s feet on the floor above him, moving about her bedroom. Was she packing? What the hell had just happened?
She was mad at him. He got that. He even deserved it. And she’d seen right through his excuse, dammit. For a girl who gave the impression of not being especially bright, she was sharp as a tack. She’d whipped his office into shape in record time. Been fantastic at the job he’d given her. And now she was being all insightful.
That was what scared him most. That she might see the truth. He couldn’t even really admit it to himself, so he’d be damned if he could admit it to anyone else.
His stomach twisted into knots. He had to talk to her but had no idea what to say.
He climbed the stairs, each step heavy. For a second he contemplated just driving her to the airport and putting her on a plane back to Edmonton. He knew if he called Callum or Avery one of them would pick her up.
But that would be a coward’s way out. Jack didn’t much like being considered a coward. Never had.
He knocked on the door to her room before pushing it open.
She was packing. Neatly folding her clothes into the one suitcase she’d brought. She was right. He’d treated her badly. Definitely given her the cold shoulder after pursuing her all week. All because she’d made him feel things he’d never thought to feel again.
“You don’t have to go.”
“I want to.”
Her voice was firm and her decisiveness stung. �
��I have to go to Vancouver for a few days. You could have the place to yourself. If you don’t want to work the next group, I can hire someone. But you’re welcome to stay.”
Her lips thinned. He’d said the wrong thing, hadn’t he?
“What’s the point in me staying? I might as well go back, see if Melissa has any shifts for me. It’s just going to be awkward, Jack. Like I knew it would be. It’s better if I go. We’re just prolonging the inevitable.”
“You regret what happened between us?” Somehow the question left him feeling hollow.
Her hands paused over a sweater, then she smoothed it on the pile of clothes in the case. “I didn’t say that.”
“Then...”
She didn’t let him finish. “I regret that it got weird. Like you said—things change when people become intimate. I should have known better.”
It grated that she was putting it all on herself, when it wasn’t her fault. Grated further that it meant he had to fess up that he was to blame. “It’s going to sound lame if I say it’s me, not you,” he said. “But it is. You didn’t do anything wrong, Amy.”
“That’s good to know.”
Damn, she wasn’t going to let him off the hook. “That’s all you have to say?”
She turned then. He wasn’t sure if her eyes were so bright because she was angry or if she’d been fighting tears. But the blue depths bit into him. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, and he had.
“I’ve told you a lot of my history. I’m done with begging, Jack. Or asking for second chances to do better. It’s not who I want to be. I’m not desperate.”
“I never said you were desperate.”
“No,” she answered, with a little nod. “I did. I’ve been my own worst enemy for a long time. Begging for scraps of affection and attention, wanting someone to think I was good enough. And I think I kept trying because I needed to redeem myself. It wasn’t just you at the wedding, though that helped open my eyes. It was Christmas, and seeing my mom still looking so miserable. The power to change was always there in her reach and she never grabbed it. I don’t want to be that way. If I don’t stand my ground this time, it will be all too easy to go back to old patterns. Like it or not, Jack, you’re my stand.”
