Then he heard Alex grunt, “Wuff! That’s heavy!” and huff out a breath. He heard the sound of his saddle creaking the way it did when put onto a saddle rack, the clatter of a wooden stirrup, the clank of the cinch buckle on the floor. She’d probably hit the button by accident when she swung the saddle onto the rack, he realized.
“Alex. Turn off your mike,” he said. But she didn’t hear him. He shrugged. No matter.
Her cell phone rang. He heard her open it and begin to speak. “Hello? Oh, hi, Carla. Let me put you on speaker. My arms are killing me. I think I sprained my elbows hauling Zach’s saddle back to the barn.”
Zach snorted. He’d have to offer her a massage back in the room. A completely naked one. His cock stiffened.
“Alex! Zach. Is. A. Hunk,” her editor breathed. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”
“I’ve known him practically forever. He’s a friend of mine.”
“That kiss. Was it as good as it looked?”
“Better.”
He grinned. Of course it was.
“You are s-o-o-o lucky. Are you rooming with him?”
“Of course,” Alex answered, sounding pleased.
“Is he…are you and he…?” Carla trailed off.
“Having sex? We are now. He’s helping me research the historotica.”
Zach frowned. Sex? Was that what she called it? She sounded so blithe about it. As if it didn’t mean anything.
“With the cards? You’re using the cards?”
“Oh yeah,” Alex purred. “Are we ever.”
“No wonder I haven’t seen you at the meals or the workshops. You’ve been busy. Doing…research.” Carla barked out a harsh laugh.
Alex joined in. “Research like rabbits.”
“Tell me…was that ‘Miz Scarlett’ comment from your research? Are you role-playing?”
“Absolutely. He’s Rhett, I’m Scarlett, and we’re burning down the plantation.”
Carla laughed. “This book is going to be incredible, if you can write his kisses to be as hot as that one looked. If it doesn’t fly off the shelves and up the bestseller list, I’ll eat my slush pile,” Carla said. “And if we could put him on the cover…”
“His looks alone would sell the book. Yeah, I know.”
Zach stopped walking. Alex? Wanted to use his looks? To sell her book?
“You’re not kidding,” Carla purred. “You’ve got yourself a gorgeous boy toy.”
“Oh boy,” Alex said. “But—”
Zach tore the earpiece out of his ear and ripped the headset off, dropping it to the ground. He’d heard enough. Alex was using him for his looks, to sell her books. She didn’t care about him. She was just like everybody else. He looked down at the microphone and crushed it into the dust with the heel of his boot.
He’d never felt so betrayed in his life.
Chapter Thirteen
“—he’s not a toy,” Alex told Carla, leaning against a stall door to wait for Zach. “He’s really a great guy. And it offends him when people treat him like an object.”
“You’ll have to introduce me to him so I can decide for myself,” Carla answered. “Once I recover from the glow of that kiss.”
“You and me both.” Alex straightened as she saw him approach the barn, Stars ambling by his side. “Here he comes. I gotta go.”
“Give him a kiss for me.” Carla laughed and hung up.
Alex shoved her phone into her pocket and hurried out to meet Zach. “You. Were. Awesome!” she told him.
He gave her a glance and strode by without a word. “Zach?” Alex felt like she’d been struck. Where was his smile? His laugh?
Why were his eyes as cold as polar icecaps?
What was wrong?
“Zach!” She began to run, even though she knew she shouldn’t. Not around a barn. She skidded to a stop where he’d cross-tied Stars; the horse tossed his head and danced sideways, startled.
Zach hooked his bridle over a rack on his stall door, then reached into his grooming box for a brush. He began flicking it over the horse’s side with quick twists of his wrist. He didn’t look at her.
“Zach?” She grabbed Stars’ halter and scratched the horse’s nose. “Is there something wrong?”
He stopped, dropped the brush in the box, then straightened. His eyes pierced her from under the brim of his hat. “You left your mike on,” he said. “I heard your conversation with your editor.”
“So?” Alex gripped either side of the halter; it was the only thing she could think of to do. Otherwise, she might fall. Her legs were weak. This wasn’t her Zach. What had they said? Why was he so cold, so distant? It was beyond anger, it was worse.
“Research. Like rabbits. With your boy toy? The one who will sell your books, once you put him on the cover?” He unhooked the cross ties, snapped a lead rope onto his horse and tugged him out of Alex’s grip, turning him in the aisle to lead him away.
Oh no. She had said that. But she’d been making nice with her editor. And she’d told her that he wasn’t a boy toy at all. Hadn’t he heard that part?
“Wait!” Alex called. “That’s not what I said! Didn’t you hear me…tell her…” Her voice trailed off as Zach and Stars turned the corner and disappeared without looking back.
She wanted to follow him, to plead with him and tell him he was wrong.
But she couldn’t make a scene. Not now, while conference-goers still milled about the grounds waiting for their turn on the shuttle. She’d have to get back to the room and meet him there, head on. Maybe she could get there before he did. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and called Carla. She had a car. A fast one.
***
Back in the room, she paced back and forth, waiting for him to show up. He had to come back, she told herself. He would. His things were here, his clothes. Some of them, anyway. His duffle, at least. True, his saddle, his bridle, his hat, boots, chaps—all the expensive gear—was with him. But he would return, wouldn’t he?
She couldn’t imagine that he would just load Stars up in the trailer hooked to the back of his pickup and leave. Not without saying goodbye. Not without…something. Not after the night they’d shared.
Her phone rang; she vaulted over the bed to the nightstand to grab it. “Zach?” she answered, her heart in her throat. “I’m sorry. Please—”
“Why did you think this was Zach?” Tim answered.
Crap! Alex winced. He was the last person she wanted to talk to. “What is it, Tim?”
“It’s about time you turned your phone on. I’ve been trying to reach you all weekend. I wanted to talk to you. About what happened on Thursday. You left before I could talk to you.”
She felt queasy all of a sudden. The emotional roller-coaster ride had gone on long enough, and she wanted to get off. “Well, yeah. Finding your boyfriend in your bed with his assistant is one of those things a person doesn’t like to stick around to watch.” Idiot.
“I know,” he answered. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. But it was—I knew you’d be rooming with Zach, and I was jealous.”
She rolled her eyes. “So you jumped into bed with what’s-her-name? And I’m supposed to accept your rationale and say, ‘Oh, it’s okay’? Tim, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“You’re right. It is. And it was. Stupid, I mean. So I want to apologize.”
“I’m not really interested in your apology, Tim.”
“That’s too bad, because…I’m in the lobby.”
“What?” She sat on the bed before she fell over. Tim? In the hotel? “What are you talking about?”
“I drove down here to talk to you. I didn’t want to do it over the phone. Please, Alex. I want to apologize for being so stupid. I love you. I was afraid I was going to lose you and I panicked. I didn’t mean to hurt you… Can we just talk? Please?”
Oh my God. Alex’s head spun. She wanted to crawl into bed and hide for the rest of the weekend. Maybe the rest of the year.
But
that wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t help her apologize to Zach, and it wouldn’t help her to do—whatever—with Tim. She sighed.
Whether or not Zach had left was something she’d have to find out later. As much as she didn’t want to face Tim, the fact was, they lived together. She’d have to face him sooner or later.
“We didn’t do anything,” Tim said then.
“Except for the part where you were fucking her.”
“But it didn’t mean anything.”
“Right.”
“Please. Please, Alex. Let me come up and talk to you. What room are you in?” He paused. “I could always ask at the desk. Or maybe one of these women, here. One of them must know you. I can find out. You know I will.”
She took a deep breath. The last thing she needed was Tim making a scene in the lobby. She didn’t doubt that he would. “I’ll come down to the lobby. Wait for me. I’ll be right down. But this doesn’t mean anything.”
How could it? She’d slept with Zach.
Alex hung up the phone before Tim could say anything else.
When she got to the lobby, she spotted him instantly. Of course. He wasn’t as handsome as Zach—no man was—but he was pleasant to look at all the same. In fact, he was nicer to look at in some ways, because he wasn’t blindingly perfect. His hair was brown, his eyes were hazel, and his teeth, though shiny white, were slightly overlapped on the bottom. But he had nice dimples when he smiled, and a cleft in his squared chin.
He was attractive in an ordinary way, the kind of man women would smile at, perhaps flirt with, but when he walked across the lobby to meet her, no one dropped anything. Women watched him walk by, but there was no devastation. Just appreciation for a cute set of buns and nice shoulders. Nothing more.
It was a bit of a relief, actually. She stood and watched him, wishing she could ignore the way he approached with his arms open. “Alex,” he said, pulling her against his chest; she smelled the familiar citrus scent of his expensive cologne.
She couldn’t help but compare it to Zach’s unique scent of leather, horse, and warmth. Tim’s cologne was nice, but…it didn’t make her want to bury her face into his chest and never let go. She wanted to sneeze.
She pushed her way out of Tim’s grasp and looked up at him, unsure of what to say. As usual, however, she didn’t have to worry about it; Tim started talking and didn’t appear to want to stop. “You look great,” he told her. “Can we go to your room?”
No way. It was her and Zach’s room. She didn’t want it tainted by Tim.
Tainted? Is that how you feel about him? Twenty-four hours ago, you were depressed because you thought you and he were through.
Twenty-four hours ago, you would have been thrilled if he showed up, told you he made a mistake, and tried to convince you to come back.
Twenty-four hours ago, Zach was still your buddy, and not the man who’d made you feel…amazing. Sexy. Confident. Strong. And loved.
And confused.
“I don’t think so, Tim. We can stay right here.” She moved off to the side of the lobby, to a grouping of upholstered chairs clustered around a utilitarian coffee table. He looked around.
“It’s not very private.”
She sat down and gestured to the large potted palms on either sides of the conversation area. “It’s practically in a jungle. How private do you need?”
Funny, she mused as if from a distance, it wasn’t too long ago that there wasn’t enough privacy to be had with Tim. She’d loved him, dammit.
Was it really loved? As in past tense loved?
When had that happened? When she found him in our bed with his assistant, or when she went to bed with Zach?
Or long before that?
Zach was right, in a way. Her relationship with Tim was easy. She took care of stuff around the house; he worked and paid for her existence. She was often so busy writing, she didn’t notice he wasn’t home—or didn’t care.
He could have been fooling around with his assistant for years, and she wouldn’t have even noticed.
She swallowed and looked up at him. “Are you going to sit?”
“Actually, no.” Tim peered around a potted palm, shrugged and reached into his pocket. “I think…I’ll kneel, instead.” He dropped to one knee, pulling a small, light-blue jeweler’s box of his pocket at the same time. He held it flat on his palm and opened it.
She didn’t have to look to see what was inside. Alex put her hand over her mouth. Her stomach flip-flopped. An acidy taste filled her mouth. “Oh…my…God,” she whispered.
Tim’s eyes glowed as he cleared his throat and said, his voice tear choked yet confident, “The past few days have been the worst of my life. I made a terrible mistake. But maybe, in the end, it wasn’t so terrible because it made me realize how much I need you in my life. Alexandra Taylor, will you marry me?”
There you are, Boy Toy,” said a woman’s silky voice.
Zach felt her draw her long fingernails over his back as the polished brunette settled on the barstool beside him. “I’m not your boy toy,” he said, lifting his beer bottle to his lips, shaking her hand off his shoulder. He wished he could splash the beer on her suit jacket. Or something. He was in no mood to be flirted with or propositioned. He was ready to swear off women, forever. Starting with Alex.
He’d never forgive her. She lied to him. And then acted so innocent, as if she’d never talked about him as if he were nothing to her but a pretty, marketable face and a hot bod. He was going to tell her he never wanted to see her again.
After he calmed down, anyway. He didn’t want to end a fifteen-year relationship with yelling. Even though he had a right to be angry. He didn’t want to be the bad guy or give her an excuse to call him a jerk because he couldn’t control his temper. If he was calm, then she’d have to wallow in guilt. It was her fault, after all, not his. He was only cursed; she was an opportunist, and he wasn’t about to be her tool.
Even so, while he’d put Stars out to paddock and driven back to the hotel, he’d realized something. When you love somebody, even when that person hurts you badly, you can’t just walk away. Not really. Even when you know you should. He needed to work up the words—and the courage—to go and tell her he never wanted to see her again.
The thought made him feel sick. Never again?
Yes. It had to be that way. She used him, just like every other woman did. Worse. She was going to use him to make money. Like he was a freakin’ whore.
The brunette ordered a dirty martini and another beer for him. Zach didn’t look at her, though he could feel her staring at him. God, did they ever stop staring, or stop trying to pick him up to lure him to their beds? He was so sick of being the object of attention, just because he had a look that women craved. “Keep your beer. I don’t want it.”
“Yes you will. Because you and I have to talk, handsome, and you’ll want something to hold onto.”
Talk? Yeah, right. “Fuck off,” he snarled.
“Ooh. Alex didn’t tell me you had such a foul mouth. Doesn’t detract from your looks though, sweetie.”
At the sound of Alex’s name, Zach slammed his bottle down on the bar with a clank and spun to face the woman. She looked at him with steady gray eyes and a smirk.
He snarled, “Look, I don’t know you and I don’t want to talk to you. And you can wipe that fucking smile off your face, lady. I’m not interested. Got it?”
The bartender appeared, placing her martini and Zach’s beer on the bar; she turned in her seat, picked up the glass and took a ladylike sip, eyes closed. “Mmm. I love the way this man makes martinis. I wonder if I could box him up and take him home with me? My own personal martini man,” she purred. Then she turned back to Zach. “I don’t care if you’re interested or not, Mr. O’Connor. You don’t mind me calling you Mr. O’Connor, do you? It is your name, after all.”
Zach stared at her. She obviously wasn’t going to go away, and no matter what he said, he wasn’t ready to leave the bar for his
and Alex’s room. Yet.
He sighed. “Who are you? And what do you want?”
“I’m Carla Giarelli, Alex’s editor and the one who gave her a ride back to the hotel from your presentation today.”
“Oh.” He took a swig of beer. “Great.”
“Lucky, actually. Alex Demille is one of my best writers. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” He made rings on the bar with the condensation of his bottle. Carla was the one who started all the shit to begin with. If she hadn’t called Alex, he’d be playing Rhett right now, pulling a card and playing some kind of kinky game with Miz Scarlett. Crap. He hated this woman. “Why don’t you just fuck off and leave me alone?”
“Because, Mr. O’Connor. My best writer was crying her eyes out all the way back to this hotel and talking about how she wanted to quit writing for my company. She’s ready to walk away from what I believe will be one of the best-selling books we’ve ever had, all because of you. You know, my little company needs a big bestseller, and we can’t afford to let her quit or walk away.”
“Look, she used me. So you—and she—can just go screw. Yourselves. Okay?” He picked up his beer and looked up at the television hung in the corner over the end of the bar. He didn’t care what was on, but it was better to look at that than the money-grubbing, martini-drinking witch beside him.
“Mr. O’Connor. Did you hear the entire conversation Alex and I had, or just part of it?”
He frowned and turned back to her. “You don’t give up, do you?”
Chapter Fourteen
“It’s not my job to give up.” She finished her martini and signaled the bartender for another with a wave of a manicured finger. Then she turned back to him. “Did you hear her dressing me down for calling you a boy toy?”
“She didn’t dress you down. She laughed.”
“Initially, yes. But after I said we should put you on the cover—”
In The Cards Page 8
