by Kit Morgan
Norman came around his desk to stand beside him. “You’re right. There’s no need to remind me.”
Bill glanced at him. “Isn’t there?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Only that if this marriage doesn’t take place, neither does our merger. I’ve had my eye on your daughter for a long time, Norman. I don’t want things getting screwed up now.”
Norman’s eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening me?”
“Not threatening. Reminding.” Bill left the window, grabbed his briefcase off a nearby chair and headed for the door. “I’ll have Clara make reservations for Friday night – I’ll ask her then. In the meantime I suppose I’ll have to find a ring.”
“Why haven’t you bought one yet?” Norman wondered.
Bill stopped at the door and looked at him. “Because it hasn’t been a priority until now.” He left the office.
“Your mother called while you were speaking with Mr. Preston,” Clara told him, holding up the message as he passed her desk.
Bill snatched it from her hand and stopped. “Clara, make reservations for two at the Singer Club for seven Friday night.” He turned and headed for the elevators, not seeing Clara roll her eyes as she picked up the phone.
* * *
Wendy handed Jack another ornament. She didn’t have a stepladder so he used a chair to reach the top of the tree. Thankfully she had nine-foot ceilings or the noble fir would never have fit. Nor would the star he reached for next. “We didn’t have to go through all this fuss, you know,” she told him.
“Nonsense – it’s Christmas,” he said. “You have to have a tree. I wish you’d let me buy the colored lights, but white is nice too.”
Wendy shrugged. “Can I help it if I like things uniform?”
Jack smiled from his perch, placed the star on the tree and connected it to the end of the light string. “There.” He hopped down from the chair. “Let’s turn on the lights and see how it looks.” Before she could say a word, he reached for the cord, went to the nearest outlet and plugged it in.
Wendy gasped. “Oh, Jack, it’s beautiful.” She looked at her clasped hands, held as if she was praying. Maybe she should – that everything would work out and she and Jack could begin a new relationship … someday. Even after she took care of Bill and her father, she still had to make a life for herself. What man wanted a needy wreck like her?
“How about that cocoa?” Jack asked.
Wendy smiled and glanced out the window. “Wow, it’s dark already. I can’t believe this took so long.”
“Time flies when you’re having fun, honey.” He closed the distance between them but didn’t touch her. “Have you? I have.”
She nodded. “Yes, today was fun. Missy enjoyed herself too.”
“That’s good, but I’m more concerned about you.”
She bit her lower lip and looked away. He was so handsome, so courteous and kind. So unlike Bill. “Jack …,” she said, still thinking.
“Don’t tell me I’m going to have to make my own cocoa.”
She smiled. “No, this has nothing to do with that. Though if you do, I won’t mind.”
He headed for the kitchen. “Now what were you going to say?”
She followed him and leaned against the kitchen counter. When she saw the questioning look on his face, she pointed at the cupboard where she kept the pots and pans.
He found one, set it on the stove, then went to the refrigerator and took out some milk. “What is it, honey?”
She took a deep breath. “Jack, Bill and I aren’t really engaged. Or that is, we’re not getting engaged.”
“Is that so?” He poured milk into the pot. “Then why did you tell me you were?”
“Because as far as my father is concerned, we are.” She came away from the counter. “Bill hasn’t even asked me yet.”
Jack opened the nearest drawer. “Ah, got it on my first try.” He pulled out a spoon and gave the milk a stir. “You mean you’ve been telling people you’re engaged to this guy, but he hasn’t proposed yet?”
“No. Well … I only told you.”
He stopped stirring. “What? So are you engaged or not?”
“Dad says we are. Bill says we are. Neither of them asked my opinion.”
“What do you say?” He asked and stirred the milk again.
She squared her shoulders. “I say I’m not. And even if I was, I’m going to break it off.”
He looked at her again and set the spoon on the counter. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “And it’s because of you. You made me think, Jack. Running into you reminded me that I should have a life of my own, make it something that matters. Like you have, like Missy has. She’s an architect now and doing wonderfully. What am I doing? Nothing.”
“Aw, honey, don’t say that …”
“It’s true. I’ve become nothing but a pawn – yes, Dad, yes, Bill, whatever you say. I just wanted to thank you – you made me see I can’t live like that.”
Jack smiled, glanced at the milk and quickly took it off the burner before it bubbled over. “That was close!”
Wendy swallowed hard. “Yes, it was.” But she wasn’t talking about the milk.
Jack fixed their cocoa and they returned to the living room to admire the tree. They sipped in silence, and it was all Wendy could do not to stare at him. She’d thanked Jack and told him her plans, and he’d been quiet ever since. He probably knew as well as she that she needed to get her act together. Any smart man would – she couldn’t fault him that. But it hurt to have him think of her that way. Just as well – she still had to face Bill and her father. What if they refused to listen to her? What would she do then?
For the first time since her decision to take her life in her hands, she felt her nerve falter. Should she tell them together, or separately? Separately – that way they couldn’t double-team her. And if they didn’t listen … well, tough. She’d move on anyway …
“Penny for your thoughts,” Jack said.
She sipped her cocoa and glanced his way. “Just thinking about … things.”
“What kind of … things?”
“Telling my father that I want my own life.” She risked a smile and took another sip.
“I think the sooner you do it, the better.”
She studied him a moment. “Is that what you want?” She froze. She shouldn’t have asked that, but there it was.
He reached over and put a hand on her knee. “I want what’s best for you, Wendy, that’s all. And the sooner, the better.” He pulled away, sat back and took a drink.
Her leg felt warm where he’d touched it and the tingles were still running up her spine. But he hadn’t said anything about the two of them. “You’re right. I need to get it over with.”
“I can understand being hesitant about dumping the poor guy during the holidays.”
“It’s not that, it’s …” She studied him again. “I’m glad you’re here, Jack. I don’t know what it is, but you give me the courage I need to look at things I haven’t looked at in a long time.”
Jack nodded and smiled. “I’m glad I could be of help. And don’t worry, things will work out. You’ll see.”
Wendy smiled and took another sip of her cocoa, praying he was right.
Chapter Twelve
Jack slammed the car door shut, started the engine and pulled out of the parking space. What was he doing? He wanted to kiss her again, badly, but didn’t dare. Engaged or not, Wendy belonged to another man. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, but she hadn’t left the relationship yet. He wasn’t sure how far into it she’d been, and couldn’t dictate how this would turn out.
Wendy was frightened, alone, but also determined to make a life for herself. He admired that and tried to picture her father when she told him she wasn’t going to marry that egotistical dandy he’d chosen for her. Was Norman Preston so unhappy that he had to run – and ruin – Wendy’s life? Maybe Mr. Preston was the one who needed to be engaged
. Maybe if he had a good woman in his life he’d be nicer. But who knew? As he recalled, the man was no peach when Mrs. Preston was alive.
Money might come in handy, but it couldn’t buy happiness. He’d learned its limits over the years while scrimping, saving and building up the family ranch to what it was today. He suspected Wendy put up with her father for as long as she had because she was used to his money being there. What if the man had let her spread her wings and fly? But no, he’d kept her caged, and the bars were made of credit cards.
Frightening as it was to strike out on her own, it would be the best thing for her, and he hoped she did it. He wanted to support her – in more ways than one, now that he thought about it. He’d like to see her, date her, get to know her all over again. He was ready for a wife, but he’d never found the right woman.
Well, he had – but she’d been carted away to Texas all those years ago. They still fit together like a hand in a glove. But he couldn’t step in and take over where her father left off. It wouldn’t be right – and that probably meant she needed to have her own life for a while.
But what if she found someone else in the meantime? Sure, he’d kissed her a few times, partly to see if he would react the way he thought he would, and to see if she would react the same. He had, but he wasn’t sure about her. Maybe what he did was wrong, kissing another man’s fiancée … only it turns out she wasn’t actually one. He wished she’d told him that sooner.
“Oh, there you are,” Charlie said later one when he entered their hotel room. “Been working hard?”
Jack rolled his eyes. “You know I spent the day with Wendy.”
“Yeah, how was it?”
“Enlightening,” Jack said after a pause.
“Okaaaaay … how so?”
“Wendy and I put up a Christmas tree.”
Charlie laughed. “Oh, is her boyfriend gonna be jealous!”
“Truth is, he won’t be her boyfriend much longer.”
Charlie stopped in the middle of the room and stared at him. “And what brought this on? Please don’t tell me it was you.”
Jack stuck his hands in his pockets. “I may have kissed her once or twice …”
Charlie let his head fall back, groaned at the ceiling and looked at him again. “Jack, you didn’t.”
Jack shrugged. “I did and I’m not sorry. And she’s not breaking it off because of me. She was told to marry the man. It was her father’s decision.”
Charlie whistled long and low. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall when that discussion takes place. When’s she gonna tell him?”
“I don’t know. We’ll probably be gone by then.”
“Maybe not,” Charlie drawled.
Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a few nice bulls coming in next week. I think we should take a look at them, unless you want to fly home for Christmas and come back. But by then they might be gone.”
Jack rubbed his face a few times. “I suppose we could get one or two more if they’re good enough.”
Charlie nodded. “If you want to go home, I can stay. I spend Christmas with your family anyway.”
“No, you go. I’ll take care of it.”
“Along with a few other things?” Charlie prompted.
Jack shrugged. “Wendy needs some space, Charlie. I don’t want to push myself on her. I think she needs time to figure out who she is.”
“That’s generous of you,” Charlie said with a grin.
Jack slapped him on the back. “Care for a late snack?”
“You know me. I’m always up for food.”
Jack grabbed his jacket and headed for the door; Charlie hadn’t taken his off yet. They took the elevator to the lobby and headed for the hotel’s 24-hour café. Maybe talking to Charlie would help get his mind off of Wendy and her predicament. He longed to come to her rescue, sweep her off her feet and carry her home to Cutter’s Creek, but he didn’t dare. It wouldn’t be fair to her. She needed time.
Besides, who knew how her father was going to handle this? When Norman Preston didn’t get his way, everyone heard about it. The man was definitely a force to be reckoned with. Jack just hoped he didn’t tear Wendy apart when she told him. “Come on, Wendy,” he muttered under his breath as Charlie ordered some nachos. “You can do this. Stand up to that giant.” He thought of Bill and rolled his eyes. “Both of them.”
* * *
Wendy hadn’t seen Jack for days, but still couldn’t stop thinking about him. She was having dinner with Bill that night and thought of canceling, but what good would that do? Besides, she needed to tell him that she didn’t want to marry him. In a public place, he’d be less likely to blow a gasket. Reputation was everything to Bill. Thank Heaven for that.
Her father, on the other hand, wouldn’t be so easy – and once she told Bill, Dad would hear about it. Norman Preston not only didn’t care if he blew up in front of people or who heard him do it, but it was part of his brand, that he could bulldoze the best of them.
She shuddered at the thought and continued to dress. She glanced at her phone on the dresser and thought of texting Jack. He’d texted her twice in the last few days but that was all. For all she knew, he was leaving this very day. She sighed – it was probably better if she didn’t see him until she took care of her immediate business.
She ate breakfast, got into her car and headed for her dad’s office. He wanted to speak with her and she knew it had to be about his and Bill’s business venture. The thought of telling him she wanted no part of it made her cringe. Maybe she should stop for coffee first. But how was caffeine going to help? She still had to talk to the man – last thing she needed was to be jittery while she did it.
She got to the office, took the elevator to the top floor and tried to slow her breathing as she walked into Dad’s suite. Clara looked up as she entered, then glanced at the office door. “Mr. Reeves is inside.”
Wendy came to a halt by Clara’s desk. “He is?”
Clara nodded. “You’d better brace yourself, honey. I know you and your daddy haven’t been getting along well, but they’re not getting along so well either.”
“They aren’t?”
Clara shook her head. “Want some chocolate?”
Wendy waved her hand. “No thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” The secretary took a bite of her candy bar.
“Are they really that bad?” Muffled shouting came from the other side of the door, and Wendy gulped. “Oh, I guess so.” She backed up a few steps, wondering if this was such a good idea.
But before she could decide, the door flew open. “Wendy, there you are – get in here!” her father barked.
Wendy felt her insides go cold. She should turn around and leave, but … no, she didn’t want to be a coward anymore. She straightened her shoulders and looked her father in the eye. “What’s the matter now?”
“Inside.” He pointed at his office.
She marched past him, went to the desk and sat on it. Bill stood off to one side, frowning, his arms folded. “What’s going on?”
Her father took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Bill and I just had a disagreement and I’m still recovering.”
She looked at Bill, her father and back. “What sort of argument?”
“On the new business,” Bill drawled. “Your father seems to think we need to pick something you’d actually like.”
Wendy pondered that. “Well, that’s … considerate.”
Bill glanced around the office as if looking for something to hit. “Yes, well, we were in agreement earlier, but now he’s changed his mind. Sorry you had to hear our shouting, but there was no help for it. We’re like two bulls in a pen.”
Her father stood next to her. “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “We shouldn’t put you in a business you know nothing about and have no say in. So I want to know … what would you like to do?”
Wendy glanced between them. W
ell, this was a surprise! Her father actually taking her feelings into account? Letting her choose what business she ran, in addition to supplying the capital? Had Dad taken “nice pills” that morning? It was tempting – so much less struggle than going out on her own …
But she’d still be tied to him, and maybe to Bill. This wasn’t a free gift – it might be more like the snake asking Eve what kind of apple she liked.
“Of course, you don’t have to answer now,” her father assured her. “I’m sure you’d want to do some research, think about things. Just be sure it’s something you like.”
“Of course.” She stared at her father. “But what made you change your mind? Last week you made it sound like I had no say whatsoever.”
Her father sighed. “I … was wrong. I’m sorry.”
“Your father’s going soft,” Bill quipped. “But I suppose if we’re to be partners it should be something you can tolerate. Otherwise, where’s the fun?”
Wendy stared at Bill. “I suppose.” She swallowed hard and turned back to Dad. “Thank you.”
Her father put his arm around her. “Forgive us, will you?”
On the one hand, Wendy felt relief and elation that her father was putting her first in something, for once. On the other hand, it didn’t change her resolve to blow it all to bits. And Bill’s snark only reinforced it.
Chapter Thirteen
Wendy waited in the lobby of the posh Singer Hill Club. Most just called it the Singer Club. Though it was a classy-looking place, she wasn’t sure she cared much for the people that frequented it. They were too much like Bill.
“There you are – early, I see,” Bill said as if talking to a child.
“Better than being late.” She peeked at her watch. He was late, by five minutes.
Bill said nothing as he approached the elevators to the dining room. Singer Hill wasn’t on a hill – it was at the top of a skyscraper. He informed the hostess of their reservation and waited for someone to take them up, since one had to be escorted. Wendy was never sure if it was because of safety or just snobbish. Whatever it was, she wished the burly man accompanying them to the top floor would crack a smile. That he didn’t only added to her nervousness. Tonight was the night she’d tell Bill. She hoped she hadn’t had too much coffee earlier.