by Neesa Hart
The breath left his body in a soft hiss. “So, that’s what you think?”
“What other explanation is there?”
“A very long one.” Dragging his hand through his hair, he waited while several Rack Room patrons made their way across, the parking lot. “And you want to hear it, don’t you?”
She pointed to the small diner across the street. “Let’s go sit down. We can talk there.”
He seemed to hesitate, then shrugged. “Sure, whatever you want.”
They walked in silence across the narrow parking lot. The night air had grown cold, and Elise concentrated on the plume of her breath against the darkened sky. “It’s chilly tonight,” she told him, trying to break the tension.
The look he gave her spoke volumes. “Freezing.” Without further comment, he pushed open the door to the diner. Blissfully, the place was empty. Only the waitress behind the counter would have to hear their conversation.
Neither of them spoke again until they were seated, each cradling a cup of coffee. Wil took a long sip of his decaf, then set the cup down on the table with a soft plunk. “Okay,” he said. “Here’s what happened. I was the number one broker in my firm two years in a row. I was pulling in over half a million a year in commissions alone, plus another quarter million or so in bonuses. In a couple of years, I was going to be top guy on the floor. Nobody could come close to me.”
“That’s what I heard.”
“People were jockeying for a piece of my action. Every client in the world wanted me to broker for them. If Wil Larsen said it was a good gamble, it was. Period. No mistakes. No foul balls. Every at bat was a home run.”
Layer by layer, the veneer of casual civility he wore like a suit of armor was beginning to fall away. He felt it happening, and couldn’t seem to stop it. For days, all he’d thought about was the way Elise was tying his guts into knots.
“What happened?” she prodded, sounding darkly fas-!!cinated.
“I was handling too much, had too many clients to be paying proper attention. Before I knew it was happening, I started to get in over my head. I worked twenty-hour days. I slept in my office. I earned a cell phone everywhere I went, so I’d be permanently linked in. A couple of times, I ruined a competitor just for the joy of the kill. I wasn’t a man, I was a machine.”
“Did you realize this before or after the heart attack?”
The question irritated him. She’d cut too close to the truth for his comfort. “After.”
“So what caused you to collapse? What made you lose to the stress?”
“Killing the competition is part of the game. I was on my way to the top, and the guys at the top didn’t want me there. Because of my account load, I didn’t have time to track the money like I should. If a client told me he had funding, I believed him.”
“And you got set up?”
“Yeah. One of my clients was dealing in insider trading. He had a source at the Department of Agriculture prepared to leak him a farm report. He was getting funding from non-U.S. sources.”
“Which is highly illegal.”
“Highly, and I should have gotten suspicious, but I didn’t have time to think. Or maybe I didn’t want to, I don’t know. Next thing I knew, I was standing on the floor, about to ruin the lives of a farmers’ cooperative so this guy and his backers could get rich. If I’d done it, and nobody caught us, I could have made the biggest profit of my career. If I’d done it and gotten caught, not only could I have been implicated in a criminal investigation, but I could have spent the rest of my life trying to live with the guilt of knowing I’d turned into some kind of profit-driven monster. If I didn’t do it, I’d show my competition that I’d lost my nerve, and my instincts. That would have been deadly.”
“And failure was so incomprehensible to you that you collapsed from the stress?”
Resenting her insight, hating the way she saw straight through him, he clenched his teeth. “It’s not really as simple as it sounds.”
“It isn’t, is it?”
“What are you getting at?”
“I want to know the rest of the story.”
He frowned. “There is no rest of the story.”
“Sure there is. Why didn’t you just tell the authorities what you suspected, then go back to the trading floor?”
“I couldn’t handle the stress.”
“I don’t buy it.”
“It damn near killed me, Elsa.”
“Hmm. So why did you run from it?”
“I did not run.” He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Elise was treading on very dangerous territory. Perhaps this explained the slightly reckless look he’d identified in her eyes when she walked into the bar.
“No? Why don’t you tell me about Celine Isaacs.”
Reckless, he concluded, and dangerously out of control. “What do you know about Celine?”
“Just what Shelley Castelbrooke told me.”
“Shelley?”
“Don’t you remember? She came to see me about the inlaid armoire she wants from the Collingham estate. We talked.”
“About Celine?”
“About a lot of things.”
“But about Celine in particular?”
“Yes.”
“I take it she wasn’t very complimentary.”
“No,” she said, refusing to elaborate. She sensed Wil’s agitation, knew she was pushing him harder than he normally allowed. If she wasn’t careful, she could easily push too hard.
Shelley had been quite enlightening on the subject of Celine Isaacs. Elise had quickly gotten the picture of a typical society huntress. Celine had been interested in Wil as long as he was on his way to the top. Once he fell, she hadn’t been able to get away from him quickly enough. He might pretend that he’d come out of the experience unscathed, but Elise didn’t believe it. When Celine termi-!!nated their engagement, she’d forced Wil to confront the fear that no matter how hard he worked, how much he achieved, in the end he would be alone. “Did you decide to end your relationship with Celine before or after you decided to leave the Merc?”
“After.” He cut off her next question with a wave of his hand. “Is this conversation going somewhere, or is its sole purpose to irritate me?”
“You don’t like having the tables turned, do you, Wil?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Only that I don’t see why you think it’s perfectly reasonable for you to grill me, but it doesn’t work the other way.”
“I don’t grill you.” She answered that with an arched eyebrow. Wil had the grace to back down. “At least not like this,” he said.
Elise leaned back against the padded booth, sensing a subtle victory. “Not like this?”
“No.” In obvious frustration, he dragged a hand over his face. “Look, all I’ve tried to do is understand you.”
“And make me question myself, my life.”
“That’s not true.”
“No? I’m supposed to believe that the barbed comments about my job, about Parker, about me, are just part of your learning curve?”
“Elsa—”
It was her turn to interrupt. “I think you’ve said enough. It’s my turn to talk.” She drew a deep breath. “You’ve done nothing but pressure me about my life. You keep telling me that I’m hiding, that I’m afraid of who I really am. Well, maybe that’s true, Wil. Maybe I’m not as secure as you, or as certain of what I want, but if I know one thing, it’s that I’d never do to you what you’re trying to do to me.”
To her horror, tears threatened to overwhelm her. This conversation was supposed to help her gain the upper hand in this strange duel of wills between them. If she lost control now, she’d have to admit defeat. Determined, she pressed ahead. “I didn’t walk into your life and try to destroy you. You chose what you chose, and I left it alone. I can’t make those choices for you, but since you’ve felt so free to tell me just what you think of me these last few days, I think
it’s time we turned the tables.”
“I never-”
“Shut up,” she snapped. The fragile rein she’d held on her patience was gone. In its place was a raw emotionalism she couldn’t seem to control. “You’ve known exactly what you were doing to me. Don’t think I don’t know why you haven’t spoken to me since Sunday. You wanted me to have every opportunity to sit around and agonize over what happened.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is. You forced me to tell you what happened between me and my father, and then, just like you did ten years ago, you walked away from it. As far as you’re concerned, I’m the spoiled little girl. I’m at fault. I’m stub-!!born and unreasonable. I’m scared. Well, let me tell you something. I’m not the only one around here who’s scared, Wil Larsen. You’re the one who can’t face your past. You’re the one who turned your back on me ten years ago. You’re the one who turned your back on the Merc. And you’re the one who’s turning your back now.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“No? Are you the same man who told me a few nights ago that I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not?”
“Elsa—”
“Are you?”
“You’re not being—”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you tell me that?”
“Because it’s true.”
She shook her head. “You told me that because you wanted to give me an impossible choice. Well, you did it. You put me in a position where I have to choose between who I am and who you want me to be, and you know what? I chose me over you. You lost.”
He stared at her for several long, breathless seconds. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Think about it, Wil. The one thing in this life you can’t bring yourself to do is make an emotional commitment. You couldn’t do it for me ten years ago, and you can’t do it now.”
“I was the one who wanted to get married.”
“Sure. You were ready to commit to me physically, but not emotionally. When it got right down to it, the only way you wanted me was on your terms. God forbid you had to make a sacrifice. I was supposed to do all the changing. Now, the only way you know how to deal with it is to make me into a woman you can’t abide. That’s what you wanted, and you got it.”
“Elsa—”
“No.” She summoned up what remained of her emotional energy. “Twice Fve let you tear up my life. You’re not going to do it anymore. Parker will be back in a few days. And when he gets here, I want you gone. This time, it’s forever.”
“This isn’t going to work, Elsa.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Damn it, will you just—”
“For your information, I happen to like Elise Christopher, and if you don’t, you can just go to hell.”
He stared at her. She felt the weight of his intense gaze like a lead weight slowly squeezing the breath from her. “I’m going to leave you alone for now,” he told her as he dug into his pocket for his keys, “but only because I don’t think we’re going to accomplish anything by shouting at each other.”
Too drained to reply, she just waited«.
Wil dragged in a ragged breath. “But I’m not through with this.” When she still didn’t answer, he levered himself out of the booth. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said as he tossed a couple of bills on the table. “I’ll call you tomor-!!row.”
Chapter Nine
Two hours later, Wil sat astride his 1957 Harley-Davidson XL Sportster, staring out into the dark, chilly night. After he left Elise in the diner, he’d needed the feel of the wind on his face, the freedom of the motorcycle, to sort through the tumult in his soul. Without being consciously aware of it, he’d allowed the road to take him to Half-Acre Field, a quiet stretch of land near the Salt River where he and Elise had often come to get away from the city, to share dreams. He’d given her her first driving lesson in Half-Acre Field. She’d sat in his lap and cried here the night Maks died. He’d brought her here for a picnic on her eighteenth birth-!!day.
And it was here, in the back of his father’s restored 1932 Cadillac, that they’d first made love.
The sensations drenched him.
That night had been like something from a dream, where nothing and no one could have told him that he’d live to regret what had happened here. Being here with Elsa had felt so right, so natural, it was still hard to believe that he’d let the treasure slip through his fingers.
From the moment she looked at him in his father’s garage, during the silent drive to this spot, to the instant he’d slipped inside her for the first time, Wil would have sworn that nothing could ever destroy what he felt for her. But, he remembered, it hadn’t been the first time that sealed her in his heart.
It had been the second. With the force of a broken dam, the memories assailed him, stealing his breath, making his chest hurt.
Under the starlit canopy, Elsa had leaned back against the side of the Cadillac. Wil had seen the wary look in her eyes and winced. “I hurt you,” he’d said.
“No.” She’d laid a hand on his sleeve. “No. I don’t think you could hurt me.”
When he finished adjusting his clothes, he shucked off his jacket. “Put this on. I don’t want you to get cold.” He tried not to notice the way her hair was mussed, or her lips were still slightly swollen and red.
“What about you? You’ve only got your T-shirt. Won’t you get cold?”
The chances of that were a million to one. “I doubt it.” His body was already stirring again, incredibly. He hadn’t felt this way since he’d been a teenager. To be specific, he thought, keeping his gaze studiously trained on the back of the tan leather driver’s seat, since the first time he’d seen Elsa leaning over the side of this car, running her fingers over the fine leather.
He heard the sharp twang of the zipper. “Wil?” She sounded wary, insecure.
“Yes?”
“Are you disappointed?”
He swung his head to look at her. “God, no.” Shifting slightly in the seat, he reached for her hand. The same fingers that had moved in feather-light caresses over his skin now trembled in his grasp. “Elsa, I wasn’t disappointed.”
She didn’t look convinced. “You’re sure?”
“Hell, of course I’m sure. Couldn’t youiell?”
“I don’t know. You seem… upset.”
He drew in a ragged breath. He’d been relatively sure she hadn’t had much experience. Now he was positive she hadn’t had any. She’d waited for him. And he’d pounced on her like a hormone-driven teenager, without thought or care for her satisfaction. Thank God he’d had enough presence of mind, barely, to use a condom. “I’m not upset, Aina,” he told her. “I‘m disappointed that I didn’t please you.”
She stared at him blankly for several long seconds. “You didn’t?”
“No.”
When she blinked, he saw a subtle understanding enter her expression. As if a curtain of mist had fallen, the look in her eyes altered to one of sensual understanding that seared a path straight to his heart. His entire body responded. Elsa slid across the seat to press against him, and the breath drained from his lungs. In seconds, he was rock-!!hard.
“How do you know you didn’t please me?” she asked him.
Her face was turned to his, and her lips were so tempting, so close. He edged carefully away from her. Elsa fol-!!lowed. Soon, he was pressed back against the side of the car, blanketed by her warmth. “I just know,” he said. “I’m twenty-three, not thirteen. After a while, a guy knows these things.”
Her eyelids fluttered. “You mean it gets better?”
Wil swallowed. “Better?”
“Um-hmm.” She pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, where the narrow strip of flesh was exposed above the line of his T-shirt. “You said you didn’t please me. That must mean it gets better.”
“Well, of course it gets—” With a gasp, he captured her hand where it had insinuated it
self beneath the hem of his shirt. “Elsa, what are you doing?”
“Hold still. I want to try something.”
If she tried something, she’d probably kill him. He was already on the verge of losing it. “Try what?”
“I want to see if I can make it get better.”
“You don’t—Ah, jeez—” His head dropped back against the car when her fingers found the waistband of his jeans.
With her other hand, she pushed his T-shirt up under his arms. Her warm mouth found his naked skin, and Wil felt his body contract into a tight knot of wanting. “Hang in there, grease monkey,” she teased. “I’m just getting started.”
Wil couldn’t take any more. In a deft movement, he shifted her back against the seat so that he could cover her with his body. “Don’t tease me,” he warned her. “I can’t take it.”
“I’m not.”
“You sure you want to do this again?”
An amused smile curved her mouth. “Are you kidding?. I’ve been trying to think of a way to pounce on you for years.”
Suddenly serious, Wil captured her face in his hands. “This is forever, Elsa. I mean it. Don’t do this unless it’s forever.”
The humor left her eyes. “Wil?”
He pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. “Tell me it’s for-!!ever.”
Her arms wound around his neck. Her body arched against him. “Forever,” she told him. “Forever and al-!!ways.”
With a low groan, Wil captured her mouth in a long, urgent kiss. How long, he wondered, had he wanted her like this? The feel of her beneath him ignited a consuming passion that stole his breath and threatened his sanity. Their first time had managed to take just enough of the edge off his driving need to give him some measure of control. And he needed every ounce of it.
Elsa’s hands were all over him. She skimmed his chest in butterfly caresses, following the slightly frantic touches with her mouth. When her lips found one of his nipples, he had to concentrate just to breathe. Mentally he calculated the torque ratio on his entire set of lug wrenches to prevent himself from exploding on the spot.
“Wil,” she whispered against his collarbone. “I want to feel you touching me.”
