Surrender to a Playboy

by Renee Roszel

He inhaled the light scent of vanilla. The clearing must be nearer than he’d realized. “You heard me.” Unwillingly, he shifted his attention from Mary to his ex-lover’s shocked face.

  She made a sound, like a grunt or a curt, disbelieving laugh. “Come now, baby!” She indicated Mary with a dismissive wave. “Her? That ignorant nursemaid?” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “That’s not even funny, Tag!”

  He removed his supporting arm from around her waist. “I know it’s not funny,” he said, stonily. “It’s hell. She thinks I’m Bonner Wittering, a man she despises,” he ground out. “The only person she hates more than Bonner is his lawyer.” His gut soured with the irony.

  Lee planted her hands on her hips and stared at him, speculatively. “His lawyer?”

  He dropped his gaze to the path, rocky and covered with pine needles. “Yeah.”

  He heard nothing but the shrill wind through the topmost bows of the evergreen forest. After a moment, a low-pitched laugh covered the sound of wind, and he shifted his attention to Lee’s face. She was shaking her head, grinning. “Let me get this straight,” she said, still chortling. “You love her, but she hates the man she thinks you are. And the only person she hates more than the man she thinks you are is—you.” She watched him, her expression one of squinty amusement as she pinched his cheek. “You’re wrong, baby. That’s hilarious!”

  He frowned at her with distaste. How typical of Lee to dismiss his desperate dilemma as trivial. “You really are a heartless witch, Lee.”

  “Am I, baby?” She took his arm in both of hers, looking more animated than deflated by his slight. “Or are you merely indulging in a little-boy pout because you couldn’t coax the country wench into your bed, and you’re taking it out on me?”

  “That’s nuts,” he said. “I’m using Bonn’s name, but I’m not Bonn.”

  “You’re a man,” she said, as though it were a bad thing. “If you ask me, this a temporary infatuation. You’re rebounding from our breakup. It means nothing. In a month you’ll see that and laugh.”

  He glared in disbelief. “I thought the person who got dumped did the rebounding, not the other way around.”

  She shrugged, squeezing his captured arm to her breast. “Well, it’s obvious you’re not thinking clearly,” she said. “Look at it logically, baby. You and the nursemaid have nothing in common. She’s country, you’re city. She’s probably a school dropout. You’re a Harvard educated attorney. She’s poor white trash, and you’re—”

  “Cut it out,” he growled. “The way I feel about Mary isn’t prosecutorial evidence you can discredit. Love doesn’t care about differences. I don’t care if she can’t write her own name. I love her.”

  He still marveled at the sound of it, stated aloud. Since the moment he’d met Mary he’d tried to kill his attraction to her. He hadn’t wanted or needed another love in his life, had been content with the memory of his beloved Annalisa. But the attraction wouldn’t die. It thrived even while being scorned and trampled, taking on a life all its own, swelling and sweetening until he could no longer hide from it.

  He’d spent innumerable hours in solitude with Annalisa’s memory these past few days, remembering her, how she’d died the way she lived—saving children. She had been a wonderful, unselfish woman. She wouldn’t have wanted him to suffer, to grieve all the rest of his life, alone.

  Somewhere in the dead of night, mere hours ago, this insight had liberated him from his prison of denial. He let himself understand that he’d fallen deeply in love with Mary O’Mara. The feeling was so pure and right he could no longer feel guilt. What’s more he knew Annalisa would be sad if he did.

  Yet, finally admitting that he loved Mary, forced him to face the larger tragedy. The sad, ironic fact was, Mary could never know.

  As an impostor, he could never tell her who he was, never touch her or show her how he felt. Because of his lie, he must live out his life, alone, after all, burdened by the knowledge that he’d found—yet could never have—something pure and fine that might have been.

  Restless, seeking some kind of solace no matter how small, he cast his gaze about the forest, wishing the beauty and peace of this mountainside woodland could take away his brooding hurt.

  He searched for anything to lift his spirits and spied a big-horned elk off in the distance. Handsome, regal, its majestically ornamented head held high, it stood still, seeming to sense their presence. An instant later it bolted gracefully away, without a sound, through the dense pines.

  Despite being favored with such a magnificent vision, Taggart’s emptiness couldn’t be filled, couldn’t even be touched. “I’m sure you’ll find this funny, too,” he went on grimly. “Because of this charade, I can never tell her how I feel. I know that.”

  “At least you’re thinking logically on that point.” Lee lifted his arm and lay it across her shoulders, trapping it there by lacing her fingers through his. She slid her other arm about his waist, holding on possessively. “Let’s go picnic. I feel a lot better.”

  With Lee attached to him like a tick, Taggart trudged forward. “However she feels about me,” he said, “it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not in love with you.”

  “Hush.” She squeezed his waist. “We have plenty of time to talk about who loves whom, and what constitutes a successful marriage partnership, once we’re back in Boston.”

  Taggart didn’t respond. He wasn’t in the mood for a debate, and he knew Lee too well to believe she would concede a point before both sides spilled blood. She could believe whatever she wanted, it wouldn’t change anything. Sooner or later she would have to face the fact that their relationship—at least their sexual one—was over.

  Beyond the trees the path ended in the brightly lit meadow. A few more steps and Taggart could see the brook, sparkling in the sun. A half dozen more paces along the steep, rugged path, and he could hear it babble as it rushed over its shallow, rocky bed. Not far away, on the other side of the frolicking water, Mary spread the picnic blanket amid a vast mantle of flowers that gave a bluish-violet cast to the meadowland.

  “Well, there’s Matilda, getting everything ready.” Even without looking at Lee, Taggart sensed her self-satisfied grin. “Maybe it was better, after all,” she went on, “having a serving girl along to fetch and carry and set the table.”

  “Stanton,” he muttered, “you call her anything but Mary, ever again, and I’ll toss you off a cliff.”

  She laughed outright. “Ooooh, I love it when you get macho, Tag.”

  “And you call me anything but Bonn, and I’ll—”

  “Stop it! Stop it!” she cried, sounding both gleeful and taunting. “One more manly command, and I’ll be forced to jump you in front of God and—Mary—and all the stupid, furry beasts up here that haven’t perished from oxygen deprivation!”

  Mary tried to ignore the entwined couple as they entered the clearing, strove to overlook the carnal note in Lee’s laughter. She felt like an invisible lackey, brought along to bow and scrape for the lord and his lady.

  Sucking in a deep breath to quell her embarrassment, she began to lay out the food Pauline had prepared. It looked good—fried chicken, potato salad, chewy, home-baked bread doused with seasoned butter, tangy lemonade and chocolate-chocolate-chip cupcakes. Mary knew Pauline’s picnic lunches were the best in the world, but her stomach churned so badly she didn’t think she could eat a bite.

  “Hi, hi,” Lee sang out with a broad wave and a toothy grin. Mary wondered at her lightened spirits. The pretty lady lawyer had begun the trek looking as glum as any big-city socialite in somebody else’s ill-fitting jeans and too large hiking boots could look. Apparently something along the way had caused her attitude to improve. Mary didn’t want to dwell on what that something might have been. The couple had lagged so far behind they could have…

  She ruthlessly shut out the sexy image that flashed in her mind. Thinking about it could only make her more upset.

  “Aren’t you sweet to get everythi
ng ready,” Lee cooed, slithering languidly from Bonn’s arms to seat herself on the blanket. “Whew, I don’t know how you mountain folk stand this thin air,” she went on gaily. “You must be half mountain goat.”

  Mary didn’t think Lee meant that goat remark as a compliment, but she maintained her poise. “If you two don’t mind, I think I’ll go back to the house. I have a headache—”

  “Don’t be silly.” Lee lifted a hand toward Mary as though expecting her to take it. Well, she’d have an excruciating wait before that happened. “Sit. Join us.” Seeming to comprehend Mary’s loathing to accept her hand, Lee dropped it and patted the blanket. “I won’t hear of you carrying that heavy basket all the way up here and not eating any of this delightful food.”

  That statement surprised Mary. She didn’t think Lee would have a good word to say about such a fatty lunch. Pauline had joked privately that she hoped “Miss Skinny Snob” wouldn’t be able to find anything she could eat, and be forced to forage for berries and drink from the brook. Mary had a feeling Lee wouldn’t be the one foraging or toting water, she would, but she hadn’t commented.

  “Please, Mary,” Bonn said, quietly. “Stay.” His expression was so serious she almost believed he meant it. He was good, she had to give him that—with that ability to look sincere. Of course, it was possible he did mean it, since he was trying desperately to keep Miz Witty from changing her will. He knew winning over Mary could only benefit him and his sleazy scheme. That was all the more reason to leave.

  Except, Miz Witty has specifically asked that Mary go along on the picnic. She hadn’t said why, hadn’t insisted she go. She’d simply taken Mary’s hands in hers, and very solemnly, her eyes beseeching, had said, “Please, Mary. Do this for me.”

  Remembering the glimmer of emotion in Miz Witty’s eyes and her earnest, imploring expression, Mary reluctantly took a seat on the wool, plaid blanket. “Okay. For a while,” she murmured, not making any effort to hide her aversion. She shifted her gaze from Bonn to Lee. The woman’s strange smile caused a tremor of apprehension to creep down her spine.

  “Excellent!” Lee’s attention slid to the dishes laid out before her. “We can get to know one another.”

  Mary couldn’t think of anything she’d rather not do, but kept that to herself.

  “Sit, sit,” Lee said to Bonn. “You’ll give Mary and me stiff necks standing there like some Civil War statue.”

  Mary tried not to look at Bonn as he took a seat across from her. “Plates, napkins and flatware are in the basket.” She concentrated on uncovering the dishes. “Bonn, please pass them out.”

  Twenty minutes later, Mary had forced down all she could stomach, which had been a single chicken leg, a teaspoon of potato salad and two gulps of lemonade. She noticed that Lee had eaten about as much. Bonn had been the only one to actually consume enough food to be considered a meal.

  Mary stayed out of the conversation unless spoken to directly. She responded in mumbled monosyllables, making it so hard for the couple to draw her into the dialogue, they finally left her out altogether. Which was fine with her. She just wanted this hideous disaster over.

  “What are you looking at, Bonn?” Lee asked, drawing Mary’s unwilling attention to the man across from her.

  He peered off in the distance, toward the far edge of the meadow before it dropped off into a canyon. The sun on his face highlighted the sharp beauty of his features and gave his earthy eyes an added golden glint that was terribly unfair. “Grazing elk,” he said, resting that breathtaking, gilded glance briefly on Mary before he faced Lee.

  Even though his gaze had hardly been more than a glancing blow, Mary sizzled with its effect. She cursed herself inwardly and fought the feeling, her emotions fraying and tattering. She wondered how much longer she could combat her attraction to him before she reached the point of utter emotional exhaustion?

  And then what?

  “Elk? Really?” Lee craned her long, pale neck in that direction. “If you want a closer look, don’t mind us. We’ll be here when you get back.”

  He gave her a narrowed look, as though gauging her motives. “It’s no big deal.”

  Lee waved away his refusal. “Go on. Go look at the big, bad elk.” She smiled at him. “I never realized you were such a mammalogist.”

  He watched her for another moment, one eyebrow lifting in question. “Mammalogist?” he repeated, sounding dubious. “Is that the scientific term for a Textbook Playboy?”

  She laughed, the sound powerful and hearty, almost masculine. “No, baby, that would be Mammary Gland-alogist.”

  Mary scanned Bonn’s face as he stared at Lee. He didn’t react to her suggestive pun.

  Lee made shooing motions. “Go on.” She picked up a cupcake and thrust it at him. “Spy on the wildlife. We’ll be fine.”

  “You’ll play nice, right?” he said.

  Lee reached out and pinched his cheek. “I promise, baby.”

  Mary couldn’t understand what Bonn might mean by his question about playing nice. What did he think would happen, that his girlfriend would belittle her? Was he worried Lee might mess up his ploy to get on Mary’s good side? She eyed him with her most hostile expression. “If you’re afraid she’ll tell me your faults, don’t panic. My low opinion of you is set in concrete. Nothing Lee might add could damage it further.”

  He deposited the cupcake with the others, his concerned gaze shifting to Mary. “Thanks for your reassurance.” His jaw muscles knotted. “So,” he added, his eyes still on her, “if you’ll excuse me?”

  Hadn’t she made it crystal clear she didn’t want him around? The breeze danced with her hair and she pushed it out of her eyes. “Personally, I can hardly wait.” Breaking eye contact, she picked up her lemonade glass and took a swig. Inwardly she cried, Don’t come back. Please! You’re making me crazy, trying to hate you, trying not to care that you and Lee are lovers, trying to forget how devastating your kisses are and how foolishly I crave them! Yes, go! Get out of my sight—and my heart!

  Bonn stood and walked toward the edge of the wood. Mary ignored him with all her strength. Luckily he had to go behind her to approach the elk so she was freed from her battle to keep from looking at him.

  “Well,” Lee said, leaning back on her hands. “Alone at last.”

  Mary glanced at the blonde, disconcerted by her antagonistic tone. The smile Lee had worn so effusively during the picnic lunch was gone. “You have a crush on him, don’t you?”

  Mary frowned, mystified. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t be dense.” Lee wagged a hand in Bonn’s direction. “Bonner Wittering. You’re nuts about him.”

  Mary’s cheeks heated. She was shocked by the blunt statement, and unsettled that her involuntary reaction had been so—so guilty. She was momentarily speechless. When she found her voice, it was weak, stuttery. “Why—why, no!” She battled to gather her composure. “I work for his grandmother. I love her and I don’t want to see her hurt.” She swallowed, formulating in her mind what she wished were true, but knowing it was a lie. “My feelings for Mr. Wittering depend totally on how he treats his grandmother.”

  Lee’s expression remained severe, skeptical. After a minute, she smiled, but the twist of her lips was more calculating than friendly. “Oh, nursey, if I had you on the witness stand, I’d tear that fairy story to shreds in thirty seconds.”

  Mary stiffened, upset and angry at being called a liar. The fact that she had lied only made her resentment harder to conceal. “What are you trying to say, Miss Stanton?”

  Lee looked in the direction Bonn had gone. “Nothing. Except don’t set your sights too high, country girl.” She lounged back on an elbow, looking relaxed in her haughty superiority. “I know how a person like you must feel when a man like Bonn comes along. You start to think, ‘Here’s my ticket out of this stale life as an old lady’s nursemaid.”’ Lee tilted her head, the image of sly self-satisfaction. “I can understand how you feel. It’s normal to want to better you
rself. But as far as Ta—er—Bonner Wittering is concerned, it’s not going to happen. You see, Bonn and I are…” She paused, her expression smug. “Well, let’s just say, he’s taken, and let it go at that.” She patted Mary’s knee, the act reeking with condescension. “I’m sure one day you’ll find some beefy lumber-jack, and you’ll both be happy raising your brood of baby lumberjacks up here on your mountain.” She squeezed Mary’s knee. “You and Bonn are simply not in the same league. No offense, but facts are facts.”

  Mary stared at Lee, so glib and insolent. Clearly this woman had never had a moment’s doubt about what league she played in. She knew nothing of how it felt to grow up in Trailer Town or what poverty was like, wearing donated cast-offs from taunting classmates, or eating rice and beans three times a day, because by the end of the month, money and groceries were gone, and there was nothing else left.

  Just because Lee Stanton had been born into wealth and privilege, she didn’t have a right to be condescending and snide. She didn’t have the right to make assumptions about who Mary might fall in love with, or suggest her motives were selfish. “First, Miss Stanton,” she said quietly, “Get your hand off my knee.” Lee’s smarmy smile vanished. She lifted her hand away as though it had been burned.

  Mary brushed her hair back with both hands. “Second, I wouldn’t have Bonner Wittering if he were covered with cream cheese icing and had ‘Take me!’ printed across his chest. I find him detestable.” She tried to mean it with her whole, wayward heart. “Whatever gave you the insane idea I felt anything but disgust for him?”

  “Why, he told me, naturally.” Lee sat up and crossed her arms. “On the way up the trail. He told me how crazy you are about him. How embarrassingly obvious it is.” She eyed Mary with a contemptuous sneer. “He thinks you’re terribly funny. I was just trying to help you, dear.” A well-shaped brow rose, the pause pregnant. “You know, girl to girl. You seem like a nice kid. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  Sure, not unless you can do it yourself! Mary felt sick. How could he possibly know? She must not be as good at hiding her stubborn infatuation as she’d thought she was. She’d done nothing but fling insults at him. Was he so adept at reading women that he’d seen through her? Had it been her eyes that betrayed her? Or was it her foolish kiss on the front porch?