by Debra Webb
This was the woman J.R. and Nate had decided would be John’s wife for better or worse. Hell no, for the money.
Fury unleashed inside him and he bolted to his feet. He glowered at his father. “This is what you wanted and you have the nerve to chastise me with that tone about having sex with the woman. Is that right, Mr. I-see-a-different-lady-friend-every-night?”
J.R. slid off the tailgate and matched his stance. “Don’t take that tone with me, son. I’m still your old man whether you like my business tactics or not.”
John felt immediately contrite. Took a breath. He braced his hands at his waist and fought for calm. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I was out of line.”
J.R. shook his head. His shoulders sagged with defeat. “No, I’m the one who was out of line. We planned this whole strategy. All three of us, Nate, Winterborne and me. We planned it like the two of you were assets, not people…not our children.” He shook his head again. “It was wrong. I didn’t stop and think what it would cost you…what it would do to you.” He released a shuddering breath. “And I damn sure didn’t think what it would cost her. She’s a good woman, son. I hope we haven’t made a mistake.”
John knew what he meant. He was talking about the fact that John had gone the ultimate distance. He’d made love to her. J.R.’s honor was stinging right now. What the hell? John’s was doing the same thing.
It shouldn’t have happened this way. Love and family should be above propositions and negotiations. Neither of them should ever have allowed any of this.
John reached out to his dad, squeezed his shoulder. “You can rest easy on that score, Dad. There’s no mistake. She’s the one for me.”
J.R.’s face split into a relieved grin. “I’m sure glad to hear that ’cause Liam and I had already decided she fit right in with this family.”
John laughed. Great. Liam and his father had decided. “That’s good,” he said and meant it. He looked toward her window again. “She still has a few reservations I think,” he said as much to himself as to his father.
J.R. followed his gaze. “You don’t think she feels the same way you do?”
John rolled over in his mind the little signs of misgivings he’d noted. “No, that’s not the problem. I think she feels very much the way I do on one level, but there’s something that’s causing her to hold back. She tried to explain that there was more she needed to tell me.” He shrugged. “Some truth she thought I should know.”
“The gossip about her past maybe?” J.R. offered. “I don’t believe any of it at this point.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” His eyes locked with his father’s once more. “But I can guarantee you one thing, there isn’t a force on this planet that will prevent me from spending the rest of my life with that pretty lady.” He turned back to stare toward her room. “Whether she realizes it yet or not, she’s mine. I won’t let her get away.”
AMY COMBED OUT her damp hair and studied her reflection in the mirror. It was the first time she’d really looked at herself since this whole thing started. Nothing had changed on the outside. She still looked like the same old girl she’d been on Friday while flipping through the latest glamour magazine.
How many times had she fantasized about the perfect man—the one for her—who would burst onto the stage of her existence and make her life all that it should be and more. But that hadn’t happened. She hadn’t met the first guy who even remotely resembled the hero of her heart…her imaginary lover.
So she’d done what any intelligent girl who was a romantic at heart would do, she’d committed herself to her work. Focused on her career and promised herself on those lonely nights with nothing but a good book and a cup of hot chocolate to keep her warm that her turn would come.
She would be the heroine in the latest novel she’d read. The one who got the guy and who lived happily ever after.
And what do you know, she had met the perfect man. The one accurately described in the article. The only one who had made her heart pound with anticipation and her womanhood sing with joy. John Calhoun was that man. He was all she’d ever hoped for.
But she was a lie.
She stared at the woman in the mirror. She’d had her taste of heaven, her fantasy come true, and now it was over. Ruined by her own stupidity.
A soft knock at the door jerked her from her Amy-bashing session. It would be him, no question. She laid the brush aside and surveyed her emotional state to see if she had the courage to go ahead and break it to him now.
Nope.
That much courage likely didn’t exist in a mere mortal.
She glanced at the clock as she moved back into her bedroom. Almost ten. It was too late at night to deliver her revelation anyway. God knew she’d need a ride out of here and she doubted she could get one tonight, much less a flight back to Chicago. Come to think of it, she didn’t even have her purse. Renewed panic clawed at her throat. How would she board a plane? She didn’t have any ID, no credit card, no cash. Nothing.
Shaking her head, she pulled the robe more tightly around her and summoned what little courage she did have. Her fingers wrapped around the door knob just as the second knock rasped on the closed wooden panel.
She opened the door and peered up into the mesmerizing blue eyes of the man who would soon hate the very sight of her. Try as she might a smile wouldn’t form on her lips.
“It’s late I know,” he said, his voice gentle in spite of the thick underlying emotions she heard.
She had done this to him. Selfish, thoughtless wretch she was. And all this time she’d worried that Regina Winterborne would be bad for him.
She was the evil one here.
“That’s okay,” she managed to say in a somewhat normal voice. Her heart rate had already accelerated simply looking at him. Her mind started to list his numerous assets and skills: his ability to make her come with the mere flick of his tongue in just the right place or the feel of his masterful hands gliding over her skin.
“You rushed inside so quickly when we arrived I didn’t get to say good-night.” The hopeful smile tilting the corners of that sexy mouth almost obliterated the last vestiges of her control.
They’d been back at the ranch for almost two hours. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who’d needed to screw up some courage.
Nothing she said at this point would be right…it would only make bad matters worse. “John, there are things I have to tell you.” She looked up into those devastating eyes. “I’m not who you think I am. I tried to tell you before but—”
He pressed a finger to her lips, halting her confession. He dropped his hand to hers, entwining their fingers. “It doesn’t matter. I know you don’t want to believe it’s that simple, but it is.” He sighed. “Hell, I can’t even believe it myself. Nothing else matters.”
She couldn’t let him say the words. As crazy as it sounded, every instinct warned her that he was about to tell her that he loved her. What she’d already done to him would be humiliating enough. She couldn’t allow him to do this. The blow to his ego would be too much. It was bad enough that his heart would suffer the damage. But he was a man, he wouldn’t want it to show. He wouldn’t want her to know how badly she had injured him.
She’d learned a lot about men and what made them tick from magazines. Not to mention she worked with a dozen handsome men every day. No matter how strong, how death-defying they were, their egos were still tender.
“Gina, I—”
Before he could finish his statement, she grabbed him by the shirt front and pulled his mouth down to hers. She kissed him hard and fast, unleashed all the pent-up emotion inside her, then she released him.
“Good night, John.”
She closed the door before he could respond. Leaning against it she squeezed her eyes shut and fought the dizzying hurricane of emotions she’d let loose.
For one long minute he remained just on the other side of the door. Finally he moved away. Not until well after that did she manage the strength to pus
h away from the door.
This wasn’t going to work. Every time she tried to tell him he stopped her. Time had already run out as far as she was concerned. There was only one thing left to do. She would write him a note.
She winced at the thought that leaving a note made her a coward. But it wasn’t entirely her fault. She’d tried to tell him. Tried repeatedly. She couldn’t let anything else get in the way of his learning the truth. Edgar Winterborne would be here by noon tomorrow and she couldn’t bear John to learn the truth that way.
Determined to get this done, she sneaked from her room and went in search of pen and paper. She would get up really early tomorrow morning and ask Liam to drive her into town. From there she would figure out what to do next. The note would be left on the kitchen table for John. It was the cowardly way, but at least it would get the job done.
And it would save them both from having to endure the hurtful words launched like spears in the heat of emotion.
It was the best solution for all concerned. One day he would appreciate it. She already did.
REGINA WINTERBORNE paid the taxi driver and hurried the rest of the way down the drive. She hadn’t wanted him to pull all the way up to the house for fear of waking her father. It was well after midnight and he would be in bed. All she had to do was sneak around to the back door and slip inside. She had a key hidden there for just such an occasion.
Moving quietly across the manicured lawn, she reached the rear terrace garden and fumbled in the flower pots until she found where she’d hidden that key. She hadn’t used it in so long she’d almost forgotten where it was. After dusting the dirt from it, she felt for the lock, unable to see in the darkness.
The door opened with a minimal creak and she eased it open. When she was certain the alarm had not been set, she relaxed. She knew the code of course, but her father would hear the beep that accompanied the opening of a door whenever it was armed.
Exhaling the breath she’d been holding, she quietly closed and locked the door, then tackled the stairs. She knew just which treads groaned under the weight of a footfall. When she’d reached the upstairs landing she moved more quickly on the carpeted floor.
Inside her room she locked the door and hurried to the bathroom. All she wanted right now was a hot bath to wash away the stench of a long flight in coach. Then a few hours of beauty rest would be in order.
She needed the sleep to build up her strength. The whirlwind weekend in Vegas had been exhausting. She also needed to work up her courage. It would take all the strength and courage she could muster to face the wrath of her father. He’d had two days to build up a raging fury. She imagined that he’s had a full search party out looking for her within minutes of hearing she’d failed to meet the Calhoun party—had left another woman to face the music, so to speak. Of course he would be worried sick as well. But as soon as he knew she was safe…
All hell was going to break loose.
Chapter Ten
“Good morning, Liam.”
The man started and whipped around from the pan of sizzling bacon. “Morning,” he drawled, clearly surprised to see her up at daybreak. But the startled look on his face evacuated abruptly when he saw the packed bag sitting at her feet. “You leaving us this morning, Miss Gina?” That cunning gaze narrowed during the five seconds it took her to summon the courage to answer his question.
“Yes.” The solitary word reflected the numerous emotions grappling for control inside her. She’d hardly slept at all last night. She kept imagining the disappointment and hatred she would see in John’s eyes when he learned the truth.
There was no way to stop it from happening. She wasn’t Regina Winterborne. This was not her life. Her life was back in Chicago as Amy Wells, personal assistant with no future prospects where romance was concerned. She’d allowed this ruse to take place, ultimately stealing a chunk of time from someone else’s life. She was a thief…a voyeur. Nothing more.
Liam’s suspicious expression seemed to deflate in the face of her immense sadness. “Can’t even stay for breakfast?” he tempted.
She shook her head. “It would mean a lot to me if you could take me into town. I’ll figure out something from there.” The burn of tears raged at the backs of her eyes, but she blinked it away. She had to be strong. This was her fault…no one else’s.
Liam nodded with understanding. “Just let me get this—” he gestured to the stove “—under control and we’ll be off.”
Amy left her bag in the kitchen and made her way to the entry hall. She listened to make sure the coast was clear before crossing to the table near the front door. She’d leave the letter here by his keys. He always tossed them onto the table whenever he came in. She propped the sealed envelope where he couldn’t possibly miss it, then hurried back to the kitchen. John had been in the shower when she’d come down. She’d listened at his door to be sure. Any minute now he would likely come downstairs.
When he did, she wanted to be gone.
Like the coward she was.
JOHN SLIPPED the final button on his shirt into its closure then reached for his hat. Something that felt like utter bliss bloomed on his lips in a wide smile.
He’d made up his mind. He wasn’t letting Gina go back to Chicago without a decision to ponder. Today, before her father’s arrival, he would officially ask her to be his wife. No way would he let her go back after they’d made love without knowing the full scope of his intentions, business merger be damned.
The kind of happiness he hadn’t even dreamed of hoping for under the circumstances was going to be his. He’d already put in a call to a friend who owned the jewelry store in Runaway Bay. It didn’t matter that the store was closed for the holiday, John would take Gina and let her pick out anything her heart desired. A ring that not only reflected her beauty but that would serve as a reminder of his love.
In fact, he couldn’t think of a better way to start the day than with this kind of surprise. John reached for the telephone, anticipation humming inside him. This would be a day neither of them would ever forget.
IT TOOK Liam a full ten minutes to get things “under control.” Amy had suffered a thousand deaths during every second of every excruciatingly long minute.
Finally he was ready to drive her into town. “I’ll just put this in the truck,” he said, hefting her borrowed bag.
Amy nodded, the movement more a stiff twitch. Fear pounded in the back of her skull as she followed Liam through the back door and out to his truck. Once the bag was loaded she released the breath she’d been holding.
It was almost over.
The sound of gravel crunching under tires jerked her gaze toward the long drive leading to the house. An SUV, big and black, pulled up right behind Liam’s truck. Amy’s heart rushed into her throat.
God, she was too late.
Please don’t let this be Mr. Winterborne, she prayed.
Nate Beckman climbed out of the vehicle and strode straight up to her. She couldn’t read his unyielding, poker-faced expression. Fear held her speechless, her pulse tripping madly.
“You must come with me,” he said succinctly as he took her by the arm.
Amy wanted to argue but she couldn’t manage the necessary physical or mental ability. As Beckman opened the passenger-side door of his SUV, she glanced helplessly back at Liam. He just stood there looking almost as helpless as she did.
When Beckman backed away from Liam’s truck Amy’s heart abruptly slid back into her chest and started to pound frantically. As she watched, Liam shrugged and ambled back toward the house.
Dazed and confused she shifted her focus to the driver. What was going on? Did he know already? Where was he taking her? Maybe he wanted to get her away from John before he let her have it. If she were lucky he’d take her back to that private airfield and put her on that same jet she’d arrived in and send her back to Chicago.
Once they reached the main road he pointed the vehicle toward Runaway Bay and settled in for the drive without a w
ord. Amy stared at him, wondering how he could hold whatever he was thinking inside. Why didn’t he rant at her? Demand answers? Anything! The silence was more than she could bear.
“Where…” She cleared her throat of the emotion swelling there. “Where are we going?”
She had a right to know that, didn’t she? He couldn’t just…
Her eyes suddenly rounded in horror. What if he was taking her to the sheriff or chief of police? Could she be arrested for pretending to be someone she wasn’t?
A new kind of fear reared its ugly head. The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass the Colby Agency.
Beckman cut her a quick look. “Relax. We’ll be there soon.”
“But I—”
“That’s all I can tell you,” he interrupted without even sparing her a glance. A smirk suddenly marred his profile. “You shouldn’t be surprised.”
She wasn’t. Not really. She leaned more fully into the seat and turned to stare out the window at the passing landscape that had become so familiar to her. Beckman would want to protect John from the ugliness of confrontation. He’d likely already discussed the issue with Edgar Winterborne and had decided to intercede on John’s behalf. When she was out of the picture he would return to the ranch and break the news to the Calhoun family. Amy felt another wave of sadness. She hated disappointing J.R. almost as much as she did hurting John. Neither of them would ever forgive her.
Thank God she’d written the note. If John bothered to read it at least he would know how sorry she was.
After a few minutes of seemingly driving in circles, Beckman parked his SUV in an alleyway behind a row of what appeared to be offices or shops. She couldn’t tell from the backside. Another flood of anxiety crashed over her already raw nerves.
“Why are we here?” Her gaze zeroed in on the driver’s.
He looked at her knowingly. “You should know the answer to that.”
