by Debra Webb
That was what his son wanted, Amy suddenly knew as well as she knew her own name. That’s what this afternoon’s little talk had been about. He wanted what his mother and father had shared. He wanted a woman to look at him that way…to cherish him as his mother had cherished his father. He wanted utter trust, a complete bond.
Dear God, he was never in a million years going to get that from Regina Winterborne.
Sympathy and something far too close to jealousy washed over Amy. Their marriage would be a travesty. It would ruin both their lives and their children would pay the heavy price. John’s suffering would be immeasurable.
Shaking her head, Amy forced her attention back to business. The bedside table yielded nothing.
She was kidding herself here. She wasn’t going to find anything on John Calhoun or his father. They were clean. Good people. Nothing more or less.
There had to be a mistake. Apparently even a Colby agent could make a mistake.
Just then her gaze drifted to the one place she’d carefully kept it steered clear of.
The bed.
John’s bed.
It was massive, four-poster like the one in her room. But the bedcovers had a more masculine flair about them. Tans and browns, moss green. The room matched the earthiness of the man. His Stetson lay in the middle of the bed and she suddenly found herself reaching for it. She held it close and breathed deeply of his scent. A hint of the herbal shampoo he used and the slightest essence of good clean sweat.
Her heart began to race and Amy had to close her eyes and struggle to slow its frantic pace. She slowly lowered the hat back to the bed covers and told herself it was time to get out of here before she was caught.
Somehow she had to figure out a way to save John from the fate that lay in store for him.
JOHN HAD WORKED himself up a healthy sweat. The bandana tied around his forehead kept it from running down into his eyes. He smoothed a hand over his bare chest to swipe away the perspiration beading there. He’d had to do something to get his mind off Gina and all the things he’d like to do with her…to her.
Like make long, slow love.
They’d barely met twenty-four hours ago and already he was certain she was the one for him.
She didn’t like to talk about herself, he’d had to prod every answer out of her and even those were vague. She adored her father and to his surprise loved the same kind of movies he did—thrillers. He loved the chase…the building suspense whether slow mounting or fast-paced. His mother had loved that kind as well, especially the ones where the damsel in distress was rescued by the dashing hero. God, he’d loved those Friday nights at the movies with his mom. He still missed her.
A smile tugged as his mouth as he thought of the way his mother would tell his dad all about the movie. John often wondered if his dad had really loved poker night so much or if he just preferred hearing the story told by the woman he loved. Maybe that’s why John suffered such agony over this decision yawning before him. He’d wanted what he knew his mother and father had shared. He’d been very nearly certain he wasn’t going to find it in this lifetime. Certainly not as part of a business merger. And lo and behold, the gods had truly shone on him after all. He could definitely fall in love with Gina. She was sweet and kind, seriously easy on the eyes and he’d never met a woman who radiated more innocence.
He’d dated more than his fair share and the debutantes with whom he’d waltzed away a night or two had been experienced women who’d known what they wanted and had made no qualms about going after it. He sensed none of that in Gina. She appeared to have no hidden agenda. He liked that about her. Really liked it.
Damn if he could figure out what her father had meant by warning him that she was impetuous and petulant. Hell, from all he’d seen, she reasoned quite thoroughly before making a move or answering a question.
Even the report Nate had gotten from his private investigator had been utterly negative. It had touted her numerous affairs and wild behavior. Where was that woman? Because the one he’d spent the last twenty-four hours with was not that person.
Unless she’d been tutored.
He halted, midreach, his hands halfway to their destination—the next bag of oats. Straightening up the barn wasn’t usually his job, but he’d felt compelled to occupy himself with physical labor so he’d given his ranch hands the rest of the day off and had thrown himself into completing the last of the necessary chores. Otherwise he might just explode with sexual frustration.
What if Edgar Winterborne had instructed his daughter on how she was to behave? He, of all people, was well aware of what John expected. And he definitely wouldn’t want his daughter to screw this up. It was in his best interest as well as her own from a financial perspective. On a more personal note he could see the old man wanting his daughter to be settled with the kind of man who would take good care of her. Especially if she was as wild as he claimed.
This whole weekend could be nothing but a show. A way to prove to John that she was the right woman for him. To inspire trust. To put the final touches on the deal of a lifetime.
John’s lifetime.
Nausea roiled in his gut. Could he be that blind? Could the woman he’d spent this seemingly special time with really be that good an actress?
His fingers clenched into fists and his jaw hardened at the idea. Just as suddenly another part of him refuted that conclusion. No way could anyone fake that kind of sincerity. She was for real. He was sure of it.
He refused to believe the sweetness of her smile and the vulnerability he saw in her eyes was all an act.
Maybe he was a fool, but he’d bet everything on his instincts.
This woman was the one for him.
John glanced at his watch and swore. He was late. He’d have to rush through a shower in order to be ready on time.
He had big plans for tonight. He wanted to show Gina off around town and for her to get an idea of what life here was like. His hometown was nothing like Chicago. She needed to be aware of that. Somehow he felt sure that wasn’t going to be an issue.
The lady would fit in anywhere.
The only question that remained as far as he was concerned was whether or not she was as convinced that they could have a future together as he was.
Unless something drastic happened, his mind was made up.
RUNAWAY BAY was nothing at all like Chicago but it was a lovely town. It looked country, the perfect setting for boots and Stetsons and pickup trucks, but it was citified enough to fulfill most all one’s shopping needs and just about anything else she could think of.
Amy had never loved city life, not completely anyway. Her parents had raised her in a small farming community outside Chicago, a place not unlike this one, only without the hats and boots and with slightly fewer trucks. She’d walked to school every day, had joined her friends at the skating rink on Saturday afternoons. This was that kind of town. And she liked it already.
“This reminds me of—” Amy stopped mid-sentence. She’d almost said home. “Of…of a little place outside Chicago where a friend of mine lived when we were growing up. I always loved spending the night with her. We’d walk to the skating rink.” She noticed a Dairy Dip and smiled. “There was a place just like that.” She pointed to the little old-fashioned place. “We always got an ice-cream cone on our way home after skating.”
John, sans his Stetson, smiled at her. “I’ve been known to hang out there myself.” He chuckled. “A decade or so ago.”
They shared a laugh together and it felt good.
Too good.
How was she ever going to tell him the truth? He was going to be angry and hurt. She would likely lose her job. As much as she wanted to be a Colby agent, losing that opportunity felt like nothing compared to the other thing she was going to lose. There would be absolutely no way she could make this right with John. Any possible future together was out of the question.
Hurt arced in her chest. Who was she kidding? They’d never had a chance.
She wouldn’t even be here with him if he didn’t think she was some rich oil heiress from the Windy City. He likely wouldn’t even have taken a second look at her. He could have his choice of women. Of that she was sure. There was no telling how many had already tried to win his affections—and ultimately—his money.
Amy studied his profile. It had to be hard, dealing with that whole concept. How would he know when a woman cared about him rather than his money?
Sincerity could be faked. To an extent anyway. She closed her eyes and chewed her lower lip to stem the rush of tears. But none of that mattered now. He was taken. The deal had been made, only the technicalities remained. He would be utterly miserable with Regina Winterborne. Amy knew that for a certainty. The selfish snob she had met didn’t deserve a man like John Calhoun.
“Here we are,” he announced as he braked to make a left turn.
Amy opened her eyes and blinked back the moisture. Runaway Bay Country Club. Well, she’d never been to a country club before. She doubted she would fit in, but, she suddenly decided right then and there, she would give it her best shot. This would be her last night as Miss Regina Winterborne. Tomorrow she would tell John the truth. She couldn’t let this go any further. Whatever trouble awaited her when Victoria discovered her ruse, this wasn’t fair to John. That was the worst part. She’d lied to him, allowed him to believe in that lie. Tomorrow she’d come clean, face the consequences.
But tonight she intended to have her night at the ball. To play Cinderella just this once. To live the fantasy. What could it hurt? The damage was done. It wasn’t like telling him now would make any real difference versus telling him tomorrow.
The lights from the country club’s grand entrance glowed, cutting a path across the dark parking area. The moon, masked by clouds, provided little in the way of assistance. The breeze wasn’t exactly cool but it was nice all the same. Amy was pretty sure that had it been an arctic blast she’d still have been warm as long as she walked next to John. Just looking at him made her blood sizzle in her veins, made her think wicked thoughts. The kind that would get her in more trouble than she was already in. Not a good thing.
“Do you come here often?” she heard herself ask, suddenly needing to know if she would meet women here he’d dated or who chased after him still. Would she be the envy of a number of those present? She couldn’t imagine any female still breathing wouldn’t feel just a tad envious that he didn’t belong to them. She almost shook her head at her foolishness. Where did she get off asking such a personal question? She’d done it all day.
“Occasionally. There’s a dance every Saturday night during the summer months. I’ve been known to show up every couple of weeks.”
It dawned on her then that he would expect her to ask just such a question. A prospective wife would, after all, want to know all about the man she planned to wed.
He reached for her arm and wrapped it around his, urging her closer. “But this time will be special.”
For just one moment their eyes met beneath the glimmer of the entrance lights and she saw the longing in his…the same longing she felt. This attraction had evolved into something stronger, deeper maybe. Definitely not a good thing.
John made the rounds, introducing the woman at his side to his friends and those he associated with on a professional level. Young and old, most of the gentlemen in the area brought their wives to the club at least once a month. It was a kind of tradition, an opportunity to show off, maybe do a little good-natured bragging. The wives showed off their latest jewels and designer dresses while the husbands bragged about their latest business conquests. Then there was the singles set, who did pretty much the same thing only with the additional element of attempting to show up with the most sought-after date.
That was one part about bachelorhood that John definitely would not miss. Though he couldn’t say that he hadn’t enjoyed the company of numerous lovely ladies, the bigger part of him wanted a family, longed for stability.
He just hadn’t expected to get it in quite this manner. He watched Gina as she chatted with the wives of two of his friends. He’d thought she looked amazing in that emerald dress last night, but it didn’t hold a candle to the little black one she wore tonight. He’d almost dragged her up to his room and locked the door the moment he laid eyes on her. The very idea that other men would look at her, would see—he drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly—all that beauty cinched in black silk was just about more than he could bear.
But he had to do this right.
He definitely hadn’t expected to feel any of this. Not this soon anyway. Hadn’t expected ever to be happy with an arranged marriage. But now that he’d met her, had gotten to know her just a little, everything was different. John had never been one to believe in love at first sight, though his mother had insisted that she and his father had fallen in love in that very manner. Still, he’d always harbored serious doubts about the whole notion. Now he knew what his mother had been talking about.
The way his attraction had grown and evolved since first laying eyes on Gina scarcely more than twenty-four hours ago certainly qualified as love at first sight.
He’d always been of the mind that anything too good to be true probably was, but not Gina. She was the one for him. They could make this work, he felt certain.
The band struck up a slow song and John smiled. It was time he found out whether or not his lady could dance. He made his way through the milling group and sidled up next to her, whispering for her ears only. “How about a dance, pretty lady?”
She looked up at him and his heart did one hell of a somersault. “Why, I thought you’d never ask, cowboy.”
The moment he had her in his arms all else ceased to exist. The people, the place, even the music. There was only the woman in his arms and that moment. She followed his lead as gracefully as he’d known she would, almost floating across the floor as they two-stepped to the sensual rise and fall of the music’s tempo. Those dark-brown eyes tugged at him, made him want to hold her closer, made him want to kiss her.
But not here…he wanted their first kiss to be special.
Later, when he had her back home that moment would come and he would do all within his power to make it a kiss she would never forget.
AFTER PARKING, John opened the passenger-side door, lifted Amy from the seat and lowered her until her feet touched the ground once more. Still she felt as if she were floating.
As they moved toward the silent house she smiled, thinking of all the dances they’d shared. Of how wonderful it had felt to be held in his strong arms…of how hot and bothered she’d grown right there in the middle of all those people.
It wasn’t until the night was over and they’d floated from the dance floor that she realized how focused they had been on one another the whole evening. They’d scarcely spoken a word to anyone after the initial introductions. It hadn’t mattered if the band played a slow song or a fast, funky beat, they had been lost to their own little world, their own tempo.
But now it was over.
Once inside the entry hall, Amy waited for him to lock up before she said good-night. This was it, time for the fantasy to fade back into reality. She would sleep, dream of being in John’s arms and then in the morning she would tell him the truth and head for the airport.
He would hate her. She’d be unemployed. But, incredibly, it was almost worth it.
How many times in one’s life did one have the opportunity to know this kind of fantasy? Rarely, if ever. This was her moment. She’d cherish it forever. The bottom line professionally speaking was that she was only an assistant. She’d probably never have gotten promoted to an agent anyway. At least she’d got one of her two dreams—the fantasy lover, if only for one weekend.
“Thank you for a wonderful time, John,” she said when he turned to face her. She still sounded a little breathless, but who wouldn’t?
Those hypnotic blue eyes peered deeply into hers. “It’s not over yet.”
“It�
��s late and—”
And then he kissed her.
The moment their lips touched, light and sensation burst between them, around them, inside them. Shattering like the thinnest, most delicate of glass…sending shard after shard of desire, need, want spraying over them.
Amy knew she shouldn’t allow this, told herself to pull away. But she simply couldn’t manage the necessary action.
His arms went around her, drawing her nearer as his mouth leveled more fully onto hers. The tingle started in her toes and rushed all the way up to her scalp, leaving a path of heat that threatened to incinerate her from the inside out. Never had she been kissed like this…he tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth, teased her greedy mouth with his tongue, and then ravished her to the point of insanity. She clung to his shoulders, her legs having gone limp beneath her from the boiling of her blood. Every nerve in her body was throbbing. Every fiber of her being felt on fire. The very core of her being verged on explosion.
His hands slid down over her bottom, cupped her intimately, and then he did this little move that tipped her completely over the edge. He rocked her pelvis against his and she came…in one violent rush she reached the absolute pinnacle standing right there in the entry hall with both of them fully clothed.
She drew back, her breath catching hard. His gaze locked with hers, took a moment to focus before she read the same shock she felt.
“Good night,” she squeaked before bolting for the staircase.
Whether too confused or too startled to react she couldn’t say, she was just damn glad he didn’t follow her.
She’d fallen to pieces in his arms with no more prodding than a kiss. She cringed as she flew into her room and slammed the door behind her. How pathetic was that? Granted, it was one hell of a kiss…but just a kiss. Tell that to her body, she mused, sinking to the floor as the final waves of completion washed through her.
