An Inconvenient Affair

by Catherine Mann

  She looked quickly at the phone. “You should get that.”

  “Ignore it.”

  “It could be important.”

  Sighing, he snatched up the damn phone, knowing she was right. His assistant’s name scrolled across the caller ID. If this had anything to do with Hillary’s safety, he couldn’t afford to ignore it.

  “What?” he barked into the phone, resenting the intrusion of the outside world. “This better be important.”

  “It is. Hillary Wright’s sister is going crazy trying to get in touch with her. Says it’s something to do with their mother.”

  * * *

  In the privacy of her room, Hillary cradled the phone and dialed her sister. After the intense conversation with Troy, she needed her space to face a call about her mother.

  Why in the world did he have to bring up kids now? So early in their relationship? She was still adjusting to being in love with him. And then he had to roll out those incredibly enticing images of him as a dad, of him opening his life and heart to a kid who desperately needed a family. He was making her think he might want a future with her. Had she willingly signed on for another heartbreak by coming here with him?

  The ringing in the phone receiver stopped and her youngest niece started chattering into the phone, “Aunt Hillary, Aunt Hillary, Grandma’s moving in with us!”

  Shock froze her. Her sister had always been softer where their mother was concerned, but she couldn’t have actually caved on this. What about the children? “Could you please put your mommy on the phone?”

  “Okeydokey. Love you, Aunt Hillary.”

  She clutched the phone tighter. “Love you, too, sweetie. See you when you come to Washington for your family vacation.”

  The sound of her niece shouting, “Mommm, telephone, Aunt Hillary,” sounded in the background. Footsteps grew louder, then the rustling of the phone being passed over.

  “Hillary?” her sister gasped into the phone.

  “Claudia, what is going on there? I got an emergency SOS to call and now I hear Mom’s moving in with you. Are you nuts?” All her fears and frustrations poured out in nervous babbling. “This is taking the codependent thing a little far, don’t you think? You can’t really expect to have her there with your children, can you? Maybe you don’t remember what it was like, but I do.”

  “Hillary,” Claudia interrupted. “Slow down, okay? I need to tell you something and it’s a tough one.”

  “I’m already sitting.” But she scooted farther back on the bed, nerves frothing in her stomach. “What’s wrong?”

  “While Mom was in the rehab clinic, the doctors found out she has a mass on her liver….” Claudia paused, her voice catching. “It’s cancer, Hillary, and it’s bad. End stage. The doctors say she has a couple of months left, tops. Her apartment isn’t an assisted living type of setup. She has nowhere else to go.”

  Shock numbed Hillary as she absorbed the last thing she’d expected to hear. She’d spent her whole life figuring out how to cope with having an alcoholic mother. She’d never thought about how to cope with not having her mother at all. “I’m coming to Vermont.”

  “You don’t have to rush right away—”

  “Yes, I believe I do.” She leaped from the bed, trying to deny the voice whispering in her mind that she wasn’t running to her mother.

  She was running away from Troy and the fear of him rejecting her love.

  * * *

  Troy stood in the open doorway of Hillary’s room watching her pace frantically around, throwing clothes into her suitcase. From her tense shoulders to the sheen of tears in her eyes, he knew.

  “I assume it was bad news on the phone.”

  She nodded tightly, folding her cow towel quickly and pressing it on top of everything else in her roller bag. “It is.” She sat on the case and zipped. “My mother is ill, very ill. She has liver cancer. She doesn’t have long left. I need to go home now and help my sister get Mom’s affairs in order. We have to set up hospice, so many details.”

  She ticked through the to-do list efficiently. Even in a sarong, she could still harness the buttoned-up suit-type organization. She all but wrapped herself in competence.

  “Oh God, Hillary.” He pushed away from the door, reaching for her. “I’m sorry. Is there something I can do to help? Doctors? Specialists?”

  She stopped in her tracks. “Actually, I do need something. I need for you to be sure my family won’t be in any kind of danger if I’m there.”

  Ah, hell. She thought they still had to hide out here, away from Barry Curtis’s accomplice. He could almost hear Salvatore’s mocking laughter in his ears, followed by an I told you so for not letting Hillary in on the news sooner.

  He took her hands in his. “No worries on that front. Actually, we’re cleared to leave anytime.”

  “Really? Did they catch the mystery guy we identified in the surveillance footage?” Confusion chased across her face. “Are we sure there won’t be retaliation against us for making the identification?”

  “They have him in custody. Barry Curtis is talking now. They are in a rush to outconfess each other, so Interpol doesn’t need our testimony.” And he was damn grateful he didn’t need to worry about her safety, although he knew now he would never stop being concerned for her. “We’re just icing on the cake for them.”

  “That’s awesome, and crazy convenient in the timing.” She pressed a hand to her forehead, then, slowly, realization dawned in her eyes. “That call this morning, the good news, it wasn’t about work was it? It was Salvatore.”

  “Yes, it was.” He couldn’t deny it.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? When did he find out?”

  He hesitated a second too long.

  Disillusionment flooded her face, followed by anger. “You knew before this morning, didn’t you?”

  Resolution settled deep in his gut, along with the urge to kick himself for being worse than an idiot. “I heard late yesterday afternoon.”

  “Why? Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Pain laced her every word. “Why would you let me worry and wonder? It’s almost like you kidnapped me, handcuffing me here with a lie.”

  “I intended to tell you today. I just wanted to enjoy a final night with you.”

  “That wasn’t your decision to make.” Her eyes went cynical as she backed away. “But then maybe you already knew that. Consciously or subconsciously, you sabotaged this relationship because you don’t want the reality, just this tree house fantasy.”

  “Damn it, Hillary, that’s not true. Give me a chance to explain.” He gripped her by the shoulders.

  But her body was like ice under his hands.

  “I only have one question for you, Troy.” She met his gaze unflinchingly, beautiful and so vulnerable. “Why couldn’t you have just been honest with me? Why did you have to go to such lengths to break my heart?”

  Her words stabbed him clean through. He’d vowed over and over that his intent was to protect her and yet he’d done the thing guaranteed to hurt her most. There wasn’t any excuse he could make. No matter how much he’d worked on his people skills, he hadn’t learned all the lessons he needed now.

  She shrugged free of his hands. “That’s what I thought. There’s nothing left to say.” She unhooked the diamond charm necklace and dropped it in his palm. “Please, just take me to Vermont and then get out of my life.”

  Twelve

  She’d come full circle.

  Locking her rental car, she strode up the flagstone walkway leading to her childhood home, her body more than a little weary from her day of travel, her argument with Troy. After they’d fought, he shut down. He’d offered her his plane to see her mother and then he’d disappeared into his computer-filled man cave.

  And now she was home. The countryside was dark, other than lights on the house and barn and another marking the entrance to the dirt driveway.

  But even in the dim light, she knew her way by heart. Her sister hadn’t changed much on the two-story c
lapboard farmhouse, not even the black shutters. There were a few extra flowers in the garden and more toys in the yard—a bike lying on its side, tire swings spinning in the wind, and a fort built into the V of a sprawling oak tree. A sign hung on the front with No Boys Allowed painted in bright red letters.

  Not a bad idea.

  She couldn’t get past feeling like a fool. After telling herself a million times Troy was a playboy and she had a radar finely tuned to find jerks, she’d still made the same mistake. She’d trusted the wrong guy.

  But damn, he was so good at the game. He’d romanced her in a way no man had even thought of trying, dazzling her with contrasts. One day they were dining in France and another day picnicking off fresh fruit from the trees around his Costa Rican retreat. Who gave a woman a cowbell as well as a charm with exclusive black diamonds?

  A genius playboy, that’s who. He’d told her he’d studied how to be funny, how to charm and weave his way through society, yet somehow she’d never considered he was using those skills to manipulate her into going to bed with him in less than a week. She wanted to pound her head against a tree.

  Or collapse on the front stoop and cry her eyes out.

  Her older sister pushed through the front screen door, hinges creaking. They could have been twins born seven years apart, yet they’d taken two such different paths. As much as Hillary had scoffed at anyone staying on this farm, her sister definitely appeared to be the wiser one.

  Claudia opened her arms and hugged her hard. They’d been close as kids, taking care of each other. What had changed? When had she quit helping her sister?

  Hillary stepped back and hooked an arm with Claudia. “Where are the kids and hubby?”

  “Asleep, but looking forward to seeing you in the morning. Where’s your Robin Hood Hacker Hunk?”

  “Long story. Can we save it for later?” When she could talk about him without crying? Like maybe sometime in the next decade. “I’m sorry to have kept you up so late… I’m sorry I left you to take care of everything with Mom and Dad.”

  “You don’t have to apologize for anything.” Claudia squeezed her sister’s hand on their way up the steps they’d climbed countless times. “You’re living your life. That’s what grown-ups are supposed to do.”

  “Are you living yours the way you want? With Mom staying here?” She needed to hear that she hadn’t totally wrecked her sister’s life by bailing.

  Claudia tugged open the creaky screen again. “No one wants to have an alcoholic mother in and out of rehab clinics. And I’m sure you don’t want to have to keep footing the bill because I’m too cash-strapped with three kids to feed. We both do what we can.”

  “Writing the check is easy.”

  “Ha! So says the woman who doesn’t have a kid in braces.” Her sister guided her through the house, toward the back guest room. “Come on. Mom tried to stay awake to see you, but she’s on a lot of pain medication. She drifted off about an hour ago.”

  Only a few more steps and they would be outside their mother’s door, where she slept.

  “I’ll see her in the morning then. We could all use a good night’s sleep.” Hillary turned quickly, stopping in the kitchen, a traditional wide-open space with a six-seat oak table in the middle. “I appreciate your trying to make the distribution seem fair, but I still feel guilty. Like I’ve run away.”

  “We’re both children of an alcoholic. That leaves a mark on the way we deal with things.” Claudia snagged a caffeine-free Diet Coke off the counter, popped the top and passed it to her sister before getting one for herself. “I lean toward the whole codependent gig, and you lean toward avoidance. We’re both trying to do better, to be better. I figure as long as we’re both still trying, then there’s nothing to be gained from beating up on ourselves.”

  Hillary leaned against the tile counter, sipping the Diet Coke. “It seems so strange that she came here to die when she always swore she hated this place, that the boredom drove her to drink.”

  “Honey,” her sister crooned squeezing her arm, “you gotta know that was just an excuse.”

  Hillary looked around the kitchen with all its windows showcasing the wide-open space…much like Troy’s place. “It’s really pretty here.”

  “Yes, it is.” Her sister smiled serenely, tipping back her can of soda.

  “You can say ‘I told you so’ if you want.” She deserved everything coming her way after she’d been all but snobby about the place. Until this moment, she’d never really seen her home without the dark filter of her mom’s bitterness.

  “I’m not a gloater. You should know that about me.” Her sister tapped her can against Hillary’s.

  “I do, which is probably why I offered to let you lord it over me, since I knew you wouldn’t.”

  “That’s convoluted logic.”

  “I picked it up from the best.” Another thing she’d learned from Troy this week. How could so much happiness and pain be mingled together?

  Her sister cocked her head to the side, brow furrowed. “You can love here and love somewhere else, too. That’s okay.”

  Hillary nodded. “I’m starting to understand that.” She looked around at the children’s art on the fridge, at the cow clock on the wall, and found the words falling from her mouth in spite of the burn of tears behind her eyes. “Troy has this place in Costa Rica, and it’s amazing. But not because it’s flashy. His home is actually very rustic—with a lot of high-tech gadgetry of course, but the look of the place is earthy. It’s real.”

  “Sis, I gotta confess, this is a stretch. You’re comparing Costa Rica with Vermont? No offense to my beloved home state, of course.”

  “I know, I know, I’ve thought the same thing.” Her jumbled thoughts from this whole crazy week started coming together in her mind like puzzle pieces…. She’d been using the farm as an excuse for her own unhappiness. On some level, she must have known that or why else would she have insisted on carrying little cow talismans as reminders of home? Her childhood hadn’t been perfect, but it hadn’t been all bad. There were good memories, too. Life wasn’t clear-cut or black-and-white like the spots on a cow.

  Had she been missing the boat on her career, as well? Focusing on the glitz at the expense of depth? Did she really want to spend the rest of her life planning parties? Troy had found simplicity and meaning underneath all the wealth. She’d been so busy judging Troy, she hadn’t considered her own superficial choices. Her narrow view of the world had likely led to her previous bad choices in men.

  But she should have realized Troy was different. Special.

  She set her soda on the counter. “I’m trying to say a place’s beauty isn’t about the trappings. It’s about appreciating it exactly as it is.”

  “That’s pretty profound, actually.” Her sister stood beside her, leaning back against the counter, quietly waiting.

  So much more effective than if her sister had pressed.

  “The media paints Troy as this arrogant, urbane guy.” She thought of that first time she’d seen him on the plane. “It’s a face he puts on for the world, and honestly that persona is sexy as hell.”

  Her sister raised one eyebrow and waved for Hillary to keep talking.

  “But the real person underneath it all is infinitely more fascinating.” So much so, she didn’t know how she would ever get over him.

  “You’re in love with him.”

  “Completely,” she answered without hesitation.

  “Then why isn’t he here?”

  Such a simple question.

  He wasn’t with her because…?

  She’d pushed him away. Yes, he’d lied to her. He wasn’t a perfect man. God knows, she wasn’t perfect, either. Just because he’d screwed up, that didn’t mean everything about their week together had been false.

  Life wasn’t all or nothing for either of them. They would need time together to build a relationship, to learn to trust each other. She understood that now.

  But would Troy understand it, as
well—if she got a second chance to tell him?

  * * *

  “You owe me for this, Colonel.” Troy rocked back on his heels, jamming his fists in his tuxedo pockets to keep from punching a wall in frustration over having to hang out at a black-tie fundraiser.

  Less than two weeks had passed since he and the colonel had come to Chicago, and already the man was calling again, asking him to show his face at this dinner dance for some reason he’d yet to disclose.

  In D.C.

  Which happened to be the last place on earth Troy wanted to be since it reminded him of Hillary. He just wanted to go back to Costa Rica and lock himself in his man cave for some serious alone time. Except he couldn’t go back to Costa Rica, not when he’d made love to her in every corner of the place, his home so full of memories he’d been climbing the walls without her.

  Salvatore clapped him on the back as the jazz band fired up a Broadway show tune. “Actually, I don’t owe you a thing. The way I remember it, you owe me.”

  “Our agreement didn’t include back-to-back gigs.” Even if this one was a good cause, hosted by Senator Landis to raise money for the area Big Brother program for at-risk and foster kids. “In spite of my playboy rep, I do have to work.”

  “Just pretend for a couple of hours, then your time will be your own for at least…oh, let’s say six months.” Salvatore held up his hand. “I promise.”

  Troy angled to the side for a waiter carrying a silver tray of appetizers to pass before saying to the colonel, “With all due respect, you lie.”

  Salvatore adjusted his red tie. “I take offense at that. Lying is a very dishonorable trait.”

  Troy ground his teeth. Had the colonel been hired by Hillary to call attention to all his flaws?

  Then as if conjured from his thoughts, he saw her across the room. Hillary. She wore a simple black dress with complete elegance, outshining every other woman in the room. His fist clenched the diamond pendant tighter—her necklace—that he’d been carrying around in his pocket since she left him on the island. What were the odds he would see her at the first place he went after leaving Costa Rica?