by Susan Hatler
Ethan had made it so easy to think she was lovable. And beautiful, too. He saw her the way she’d longed for her family to see her. He believed in her in a way no one ever had before. The way he’d stroked her hair after telling her to believe in herself had brought tears to her eyes. All she’d wanted was for him to enfold her in his arms. She’d needed his body, hard and warm and oh-so-trustworthy wrapped around her, comforting her.
At her desk, she buried her head in her folded arms. His touch, his words, the way he looked at her, his belief and concern—it was all beginning to be too much. He was starting to mean too much. She was nowhere near getting over her crush on him, and it was beginning to drag her down. Way down.
She had to do something dramatic to get over Ethan. And soon.
***
The only word currently running through Sadie’s mind was “damn.” She leaned against the glass patio door, eyeing the crowd gathered on her patio. Her annual Labor Day party was in full swing, with everyone laughing, eating, and drinking. The backyard of The Cottage looked beautiful, with the miniscule white lights twinkling throughout the shrubbery and cross-hatched overhead, almost like a starry outdoor ceiling. Everyone was having a grand old time.
Everyone except her.
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Ethan. She should be glaring at Liz, who was mashed up as close as she could get to Ethan’s chest, probably whispering something provocative in his ear, but she really just hated Ethan at the moment. Liz had been at his side for most of the party now, shooting challenging glares at any woman who came near. She might as well have lifted her leg and peed on him, she was so obviously marking her territory.
And Ethan was letting her. Why the hell did he let that beast drool all over him?
“You still have a thing for him, don’t you?”
Sadie startled. Chessie had snuck up on her, and apparently knew exactly who Sadie was glaring at. Sadie rolled her eyes, but her hands forming into fists betrayed her tension.
“You know, I hate to sound like a man, but you need to get laid.” Chessie’s proclamation came from nowhere, releasing some of the tension Sadie held in her grasp.
“You can’t be serious.”
“It’s true!” Chessie exclaimed. “If you want him out of your system, you need to get him out of your body. Your mind is telling you to let go, right?” At Sadie’s nod, Chessie continued. “He’s just part of your muscle memory now. Your body’s the thing hungering for him. Feed the hunger, only use some other guy.”
“Sleeping with someone else will get me over Ethan?” Sadie shook her head, bemused.
“It works, really it does. I’ve done it before. Just pick a hottie and go have fantastic sex. Your body will be attracted to the new guy and will forget about the old one. That’s what you want, right? To forget about Ethan?”
Did she ever. They worked together fantastically, and the festival was thriving under their combined efforts. But the attraction to him was slowly driving her mad. She’d return home each day, dizzy from wanting him, aching to feel him explode within her. Nothing seemed to take the edge off—ten mile runs, weight lifting, or yoga. She probably had the fittest sex-starved body in town.
“Booty call. Okay, so maybe I will.” At this point, she’d try anything to get her over this damned crush. Nothing else had worked; she might as well put Chessie’s suggestion to use. And she knew just the person to go boff. She stared out at the crowd, looking at her friends and acquaintances, this time seeking out a tall, blond guy with wide shoulders. Mick Calhoun. She figured her former high school almost-boyfriend would jump her bones the minute she allowed him to. They’d spent one summer pawing each other, and he’d made it known he’d be willing to go back to that scenario any time she wanted. Perfect.
She found Mick tucked under the low hanging branches of a gnarled oak tree, talking to a very young, very pretty redhead Sadie knew she hadn’t invited. She caught the redhead’s eye and flashed one of those get-the-heck-away-from-here smiles. The redhead got the hint and left, leaving a wryly smiling Mick staring down at her.
“Chasing away the competition?” he drawled.
“Nope.” Sadie grabbed the drink from his hand and swigged the remainder, not caring what it was, just thankful it was alcohol. “I wouldn’t consider her competition, just an irritation.”
“And you swatted her away like a fly,” he said, chuckling. “What do you want, Sadie, besides my drink?”
“You,” she said, letting her eyes do a slow dance up and down his body.
A huge smile on his face, Mick leaned in to her, forcing her to back up against the rough bark of the oak tree. “Having fond memories of that summer we spent in bed?”
She glowered at him. “A bit of a hyperbole, wouldn’t you say, Mick? I seem to recall you trying to get me into bed and me refusing.”
“Yes, but you came awfully close to saying yes.”
She dipped her head in acquiescence. Mick was right—she’d come close, but had always stopped things at third base, much to his frustration. Although she’d once given him a shiner in high school when he’d tried to cop a feel.
Sadie wriggled free. She started back toward her house, pausing long enough to toss Mick a sultry look over her shoulder and to crook her finger. He looked a bit like a golden retriever when he came bounding forward, she thought. She hated those stupid dogs.
They wended their way through the crowd, hand in hand, aiming for Sadie’s master suite. Once there, she kicked off her shoes. She reached for the buttons of her satin sleeveless blouse and hesitated. She’d worn the top tonight because of its deep emerald green hue, a reminder of Ethan’s eyes.
Stop it, she chided herself. She was here to get over Ethan, not fantasize about him.
Startled, she realized Mick had unbuttoned his shirt. It hung loose, exposing his ripped abs. He reached out and gathered her in his arms, placing wet kisses on her neck. His large hands pressed against her back, holding her firmly to his chest. Noisily, he sucked in breath through his nose, his mouth firmly lodged against her neck. Mick wasn’t planning on giving her a hickey, was he?
She squirmed. He switched to the other side of her neck and went to town, laving her with his wet mouth. “You don’t own a golden retriever, do you?” she muttered.
He didn’t answer and instead ran his hands up through her hair. “It’s nice how you straighten your hair these days. You used to look like a mop with it all frizzy like that.”
If Sadie had thought her muscles had been tight before, once Mick made that statement, her spine practically snapped together like a row of Legos.
She noticed a spider web in the corner. Pale and ragged, it looked as if the spider had long abandoned his or her home. She wondered if spiders died of old age, or of cancer, or if they got sick, or if they all just get eaten by birds or bigger bugs. It was a puzzle, really, something she’d never thought about before.
Mick reached behind her to unhook her bra but she remained frozen.
She couldn’t do this. Not even a little bit. She was contemplating how spiders died, for chrissake. Pushing him away, she said, “Mick, I’m sorry. This isn’t working. I think you’d better get dressed and leave.” She dropped down heavily onto her bed, a hand on her head. This was so not the way she’d planned to spend her evening—having a bad make-out session. Ugh. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, kiddo, don’t worry. Plenty of fish in the sea.”
She let out a low chuckle. “Like that redhead?”
He returned her laugh. “Hope so. I just gotta convince her I didn’t just do the hostess. And in under five minutes. Not such a good recommendation.”
“Want me to write you a note?”
Mick sat down on the bed next to her and tied his shoe laces. “You’re a funny woman, Sadie. Good funny, you know? And you’re smart and beautiful and fucking hot. You’ll make one lucky man hellishly happy some day.”
Sadie groaned. The only man she wanted to make happy didn’t wa
nt to have anything to do with her. Besides work, that is. “Thanks,” she whispered.
Mick gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder, then stood and walked out. When the door closed behind him with a quiet snick, tears filled Sadie’s eyes. She missed Ethan. Almost making out with Mick had proven to her how hollow any other relationship would be. With Ethan, she’d experienced a deep and meaningful element she’d never encountered before. It wasn’t just passion, or lust. No, it was something else, something deeper.
A word swirled around her head, soaring about like a bird caught inside a building. She didn’t want to think the word, didn’t want to hear it whispered in her mind.
The whisper came anyway.
Love.
She burst into tears. Oh, hell—she didn’t just have a crush on Ethan—she was full-blown in love.
But she couldn’t be. Ethan had saved her job, her reputation. She had to work with him every day—her community relied on their professional rapport. Self recrimination filled her. She’d made such a huge mistake. This was no longer some schoolgirl crush. Nope, she’d gone and fallen head over heels in love with Ethan Sawyer.
And that alone could screw everything up.
Chapter Fifteen
A week after Sadie’s Labor Day party, Ethan still couldn’t get the image of her walking off with Mick out of his mind. Sadie. Her name wound its way through his mind, permeated his pores, attached itself to the blood flowing through his body. Sadie. He leaned against the window frame of his office and watched the busy streets of Meadowview below. Sadie. God, he needed that to stop. Needed her name, her scent, the sense of her fingertips sliding across his skin to fucking leave his mind. He needed to focus on work. To be there for his sister and his town. Yeah, to be there for Sadie, too, but just as her artistic director. Nothing else. Nothing more.
“Hey, think you could drag yourself away from whatever is out that window that you’re finding so fascinating and realize you have company?”
Jack’s voice shattered Ethan’s focus. He turned to see his friend standing in the middle of the office, a manila folder in his hand. Huh. He hadn’t heard Jack come in. Certainly wasn’t expecting him.
“We didn’t have a meeting I forgot about, did we?” he asked.
Jack shook his head, frowning. “Nope. But I have some bad news, and I figured it would be better if I came and told you in person.”
“About the amphitheater?”
“I hate to tell you this, but the environmental analysis I told you was completed years ago?” At Ethan’s nod, Jack blew out a sharp breath and continued. “It didn’t include a full soils analysis, which is required by current law.”
“And that means…” Ethan knew in his gut what it meant. Jack’s grim expression said everything. But he needed to hear the words.
“I had another analysis run last week. We found mine tailings in the area proposed as the parking lot. Apparently an old mining dump had been there at one point. The contamination goes too deep—there’s no hope for remediation.”
“So we can’t use the area for parking.”
“We can’t use it at all. Can’t even cap it.”
“Shit.” Nervous energy churned in his stomach. The amphitheater site needed a parking lot—it was as simple as that.
No parking, no amphitheater.
No amphitheater, no academy.
“I’m sorry, Ethan,” Jack said, his voice oddly soft for such a large and strong man. “I know how much the academy means to you. Wish I hadn’t been the one to kill your dream, but there’s no option. I did everything I could to figure out a way around this one. This is it, though. We can’t use the site.”
Fuck. This wasn’t the worse news he’d ever received in his life, but it still hurt. After all he’d done, all the hopes he’d raised in the kids around the country, each eager to find their niche in theater, to have it all crumble around him because of a pile of gold mining residue felt wrong. Just wrong.
“There are other locations to build on,” Jack said, “but it would cost more and we’d be starting from scratch with the development concept.”
Ethan shoved a hand through his hair. “Even if the Courant Foundation Board would approve an increase in the budget, the whole program would still have to be put on hold until we have a viable venue.”
“Yeah, this will add a good eighteen months to a year to the timeframe. No way could we get it up and running this year. I know that was your plan, but looks like you’ll have to put the academy on hold for a while.”
Putting off the academy for a couple of years was easy for Jack to say, but it meant something quite different for the high school seniors who’d already been accepted into the program. For them, the delay meant that they’d never get the opportunity promised them. The program had been designed for fourteen- through eighteen-year-olds. By the time the academy got underway with its new venue, it would be too late for many of them, including Cameron, who probably would never see his play performed on stage.
Three weeks ago, Ethan had selected the ninety students who would make up the first Youth Theater Academy. In sending out the notifications of acceptance, he’d felt a swelling in his heart—these kids could be somebody because of this program. The email Cameron had sent back, so full of excitement, thanked Ethan for giving him hope, for giving him a belief he’d have a future.
Not now.
“I get it,” Ethan said. “And it’s not your fault, Jack. Sadie and I both appreciate all you’ve done to help. I’ll figure something out.”
Jack turned and headed out. As soon as the door closed behind him, Ethan smacked his hand against the wall.
Today the office space, usually so open and inviting with its hanging window room dividers, felt oppressive and depressing. He slammed the tall window shut, closing out the cheerful noise made by the local harvest fair in the street below. Sadie had already gone home for the day—he’d have to go over to The Cottage and let her know. Better to deal with this head-on, as it would affect her, too.
A throbbing ache grew at the base of his spine. The weight of having to explain to Sadie how he’d screwed up bore down, like a yoke around his neck. When pre-season sales for the entire festival had increased so dramatically due to the promotion of his academy, she’d happily danced around the office, spinning and spinning until she’d finally collapsed on the couch, dizzy and laughing. Losing the academy from the festival’s line-up would hurt sales, and could possibly even damage the festival’s reputation, putting a black mark on Sadie that she hadn’t earned and didn’t deserve.
Ethan’s head filled with angry recriminations. He’d failed himself, failed Sadie, and failed all those kids eager for their shot. By not planning accurately, he’d opened them all up to disappointment and pain. He knew, also, that Sadie would immediately take the news hard. He didn’t think he could stand to watch her crumble.
But he had to.
By the time Ethan arrived at The Cottage, he was in a full-blown foul mood. When Sadie didn’t answer her doorbell, he pounded on the door, taking some of his anger out on the solid block of oak. Her cherry-red convertible sat in the driveway, indicating that she was home. Ethan cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled her name several times, but still got no response.
Blinded by the darkened mood surrounding him, it took a while for him to realize he could hear splashing from the pool area. He knew where she was. He followed the ten-foot hedge and marched up to the edge of the pool, then watched as she performed a kick-turn at the other end, a flurry of white froth and waves. As she power-stroked her way back to him, he could finally really see her. He took a sudden gulp of air.
“Oh, God. Sadie.”
She was naked. Her long hair streamed along her back, and the musculature of her legs rippled as they flutter kicked. He knew he should walk away, but remained frozen in place.
At the edge of the pool, she paused to catch her breath. She pulled her head and shoulders out of the water, could obviously see his deck
shoes directly in front of her. His long shadow blocked the evening sun. His fists clenched involuntarily and his jaw tightened.
“Oh, God. Ethan,” she gasped, water streaming down her face.
“Yeah, that’s what I just said about you,” Ethan gritted out. “You’re nude.”
“And you’re rude,” Sadie snapped. “Get me a towel and turn your back. You gave up all rights to look at my naked body, remember?”
He didn’t turn around. Instead, he bent down and held out a hand. “I did no such thing. I said that we wouldn’t have a relationship, something you agreed to.”
“Fine. Look all you want. But it’s my pool, so don’t expect me to apologize for skinny-dipping.” Sadie reached up for his hand. As he helped haul her out, she slipped on the Italian tile. Grabbing her to keep her from falling, Ethan ended up with her wet and very nude body pressed against his.
Arousal stabbed him to the core. “This is not good,” he muttered.
“You’re a big boy, you can handle it. Now stop acting like a caveman and let me go. I’m dripping all over you.”
“I think I can handle a little water. It’s you I’m pretty sure I can’t handle.” His hands tightened their grip on her arms, pulling her closer, as if by their own accord. He couldn’t shake this black mood, knew he was taking it out on Sadie. He just couldn’t find it in himself to care.
Sadie twisted in his grasp but was unable to break his hold on her arms. “Let me go, Ethan,” she demanded.
Everything seemed to blur out of focus except Sadie, who stood in front of him completely clear, surrounded by the late afternoon haze. He released his grip on her arms but slid his hands up to her shoulders and pulled her in even tighter.
“Please, Ethan, let me go.” A plea, not a demand this time.
