Zane snatched the phone out of his friend’s hand and sat on it. “She’s already changed her mind, you git. If you haven’t noticed, she didn’t come back with me. There’s a reason I left early in the first place.”
Peter finally looked serious. “Which is?”
Zane told him everything that had transpired, including what had led to him fleeing to London to seek advice from his unhelpful friend.
“So let me get this straight,” Peter said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You left the country in order to give her space, but without telling her? And you haven’t spoken to her since?”
Zane nodded. “That’s about right.”
“Unbelievable,” Peter said, shaking his head. “You’ve bloody lost the plot, mate.”
Zane knitted his brow in confusion. “How?”
“She thinks you’ve left her for good, man. Think about it. You haven’t contacted her, didn’t answer the phone when she called you, and she has no idea if you’re ever coming back to the States. Pretty much every woman in the world would take all of that as a sign you’re done with the relationship.”
Zane thought about it, looking at everything from her point of view, and came to the same conclusion. “Bugger me,” he said on a groan.
“Yeah. That’s something you might want to sort out, and soon.”
Except he wasn’t sure anything had changed on her end. Though she had called him, so that had to mean something, didn’t it? Perhaps she was ready to talk, and hopefully mend things between them.
He could only hope.
“What if she says she still needs space?”
“You’ve given her over a month and left the country. I’d say that’s space enough.”
Ah, but Bea was a different breed of woman. Just because it made sense to him didn’t mean it was the right answer.
“She said I was controlling,” he murmured. “That I was overbearing and needed to back off because I was crowding her. She actually used the word ‘suffocating.’”
Or maybe he’d said that. He couldn’t remember anymore.
“And she’d be right,” Peter said flatly.
Zane peeked up through his lashes, fearful of seeing the truth in Peter’s eyes. “Am I really that bad?”
Peter tipped his head back, rolling his eyes. “Do you never listen to me? I’ve been telling you that for years. Yet it takes a stacked woman with a southern accent for you to actually hear it…”
“Mention one more thing about her body and I’m going to lay you out.”
“Okay, fine,” Peter said. “But seriously. Do you not remember what you said when I first mentioned you taking the position in the States?”
A lot of things were said during those conversations. “Perhaps you could be a bit more specific,” Zane suggested.
Peter sighed. “Oh, I love you, mate, but you can be so oblivious sometimes. You said you didn’t know if you could leave her for that long.”
Zane’s mother.
Well, her grave. All that remained of her.
He visited her there every week, like clockwork. He brought her flowers, told her about his life. It had been that way ever since he and his father had first put her there. Over the years, he’d never been able to move too far away from her.
It was the one and only thing that could keep him in London.
He just couldn’t leave her.
“I’m not yet seeing your point.”
“Zane,” Peter said in a quieter voice, “I know how much you blame yourself for your mum’s death. I was there when it happened, and I’ve seen how it’s changed you. But you need to let that guilt go. You were a kid. There was nothing you could have done.”
Zane didn’t want to go there. “I still don’t see how this translates to my controlling side.”
Peter pursed his lips then continued, “It’s as if you think you could have stopped your mum from leaving that night, thereby preventing her death. And because you didn’t, you perceive that a lack of control means something bad is going to happen. Always.”
“I didn’t realize I was here for a session, Dr. Freud,” Zane said flatly. “How much am I being billed?”
Peter ignored him. “Look at Envision,” he said. “I offered to share the CEO position with you, but you would rather be out there overseeing operations, making sure that everything goes according to your plan. Basically you have your hands on everything. It’s a pattern with you, mate. And it seems Bea hasn’t gotten used to it like the rest of us have, or she doesn’t want to get used to it.”
Zane held his hands out. “Should I just ignore my instincts? Leave everything up to chance?”
Peter shook his head. “It’s not about chance. It’s about trusting in people. You care about others and you have a big heart, but I think it’s difficult for you to have faith in people. That’s a dangerous road to travel down. It leads to cynicism and bitterness.”
“But I do have faith in Bea,” Zane said, frustrated. “I trust her more than anyone else. I don’t know why she can’t see that.”
“Because you have to show her,” Peter countered. “Hovering and always trying to take over whatever she’s doing shows a lack of faith in her ability. To her, it’s you not trusting her. You have to show her otherwise.”
Zane digested that for a long moment. The picture was not flattering.
But slowly he realized, dammit, his friend was right.
He felt his jaw tighten, determination setting in. The more he thought about his relationship with Bea, the more certain he became. He could not let her slip through his fingers. He’d do whatever he must to keep her, even if it meant listening to his smug friend.
“How?” he demanded.
“Do what she says and give her some room to breathe at work. She knows what she’s doing, so make sure she knows you trust her judgment. She wants to feel valued, not constantly questioned.”
Zane quirked an eyebrow. “That means I would have to convince her to move to London.”
Peter shot him a look over the rim of his beer bottle. “Or it means that you would have to move to the States. On a more permanent basis.”
Was he serious? “How would that work with Envision and the new stores?”
Peter shrugged. “I can handle things with the stores here in London. As much as I’ve missed you this past year, I’ve also realized I need you in charge of operations over there. We’ll have three branches and four stores in the U.S. by the end of next year. No one can manage that better than you.”
“And you decided to wait until now to bring this up with me?”
Peter grinned. The smug bastard. “I wanted to see how you’d acclimate to life over there. You’re welcome for that, by the way.”
Zane rolled his eyes, but his voice came out serious. “I still don’t know if I can leave her.”
Peter leaned forward and slapped him on the back. “Your mum knew you loved her, mate,” he said, “and that her accident wasn’t your fault. She wouldn’t want guilt to keep you from living your life. Listen to me. You can’t allow something that happened years ago—something you couldn’t control—to prevent you from being with the woman you want.”
Bloody hell, he was right.
Zane fell back against the sofa cushions, his head about to explode with self-recriminations. He was a grown man, and he hadn’t thought there was much more he could change about himself.
He was wrong.
“How is it I’ve reached such a low I’m coming to you for relationship advice?” Zane asked in bewilderment.
Peter chuckled, propping his feet on the ottoman. “Well, first, I knew you’d come to me with your tail between your legs one day, crying about a girl. I’ve told you that myself. And two, marriage changes a man, mate. If a new husband doesn’t learn the ways of the female mind right off, he’ll quickly find himself heading for the divorce courts.” He looked over his shoulder and yelled, “Right, darling?”
“Exactly!” came Sara’s voice
from the kitchen.
Zane groaned inwardly. “She’s been listening the whole time?”
“Yes!” Sara replied before Peter could. “And for once, my dear husband actually knows what he’s talking about!”
Peter winked at him. “No privacy in marriage, mate. Something to look forward to.”
That was actually fine with Zane because he didn’t want privacy from Bea.
Wait, had he just put marriage in the same sentence with Bea?
Hell, did he want to marry her?
Fuck, yeah.
He still had some work to do before that could happen, but he was definitely putting it on his to-do list.
Because before he could get her to marry him, he first had to get her to date him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Bea had been grumpy before her talk with Felicity. Now she was downright melancholy. When Zane hadn’t answered her phone call, she had become despondent, assuming it was the end of them. And that had sent her into a tailspin.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she was at herself for the way she’d handled things with him. For not seeing the error of her ways sooner. It also didn’t help that she was horny as hell, seeing as how she hadn’t been touched—not even by herself—since he left.
Spending Thanksgiving with her family in Alabama had helped to temporarily distract her from the mess she had made of her life. But as she and Felicity flew back into DC, she realized she needed to face the facts again. And she was going to need a lot of wine to do it.
She was so irritable that instead of handling her luggage carefully while hauling it out of the trunk of the cab, she tossed it onto the sidewalk in disgust.
“What did that suitcase ever do to you?” Felicity asked.
She gritted her teeth. “It exists.”
Felicity nodded once. “Copy that.”
Bea couldn’t even laugh or make a joke as Felicity struggled to pull her own giant suitcase up the concrete steps of their stoop. Four of her sister could have fit inside that suitcase—the top of it literally came to her waist—but Bea couldn’t even crack a smile.
My God. Was she even the same person anymore?
She dropped her bag as soon as she stepped inside the door, and headed straight for the wine rack. Thank God it was stocked. She was tempted to drink right out of the bottle, but she forced herself to maintain some decorum and grabbed a glass.
As Bea gratefully poured out her liquid therapy, the doorbell started ringing.
She ignored it. Felicity could answer. They sometimes had packages for the business delivered to their place, and she wasn’t sure she could handle anyone else on the planet right then, let alone a rude delivery guy. It rang a second time.
“Hey, short stack!” she yelled. “You want to get the door?”
No answer.
The doorbell rang a third time.
Well, damn it to hell.
She took off for the door, stomping and grunting and cursing the inventor of doorbells. God help the poor bastard out there waiting for her to sign for that package, because he was about to get a whole lot of angry woman in his face. It didn’t help that she tripped over her own damn suitcase on the way. She got her revenge, though, by unleashing holy hell on the luggage, kicking the crap out of it before she got to the doorknob.
All she wanted was to be left alone with her pity. And her wine. Was that so much to ask?
She whipped open the door with a manic, “What?” her hair and eyes wild, no doubt presenting an image that would have made most men piss their pants.
But she almost pissed her own when she saw who was standing on her doorstep.
Her British crumpet. Her very own English muffin.
Zane was standing there with a nervous expression on his face, and a single white lily in his hand.
Bea’s anger evaporated in an instant.
He’d come back!
She quickly tried to straighten her hair and clothes. Of course the first time he saw her in almost two months had to be when she was having a Fatal Attraction moment. Minus the whole boiling bunny scene because, shit, she wasn’t that crazy.
“Hi,” Zane said softly.
Her heart melted at hearing his voice again after so long, her insides fluttering around like butterflies on crack.
She tried to keep the shock from showing on her face. “Prince Charming returns at last. What did you do, swim back?”
“Very funny,” he answered. “Can I come in?” His eyes were pleading as he waited for her reaction.
A woman would have to have a will of sheer iron to turn away a man when he looked at her like that.
Not that she intended to.
But suddenly she was burning up and needed the cool afternoon air to calm her down. She stepped forward onto the top step, forcing him to move back, and closed the door behind her. “We can talk out here.”
Okay, now she was too cold. She crossed her arms over her chest, wishing she had grabbed her jacket, and waited for him to speak first. She knew what she wanted to say to him but wanted to go second. Just in case.
He looked into her eyes and extended the lily to her.
“I came to apologize for what happened that night at the store.”
She accepted the flower with a small smile, and a big inner whoosh of relief. “I’m sorry, too.”
The corner of his mouth tilted up. “I wasn’t trying to push you into the contract, but I know I approached the conversation all wrong. I was just eager to talk to you about it. I didn’t mean to act controlling. The whole thing was bad timing on my part. And wrong of me to throw all of that on you at once.”
She remained silent, the pain in her heart growing bigger and bigger the longer he spoke. He’d come about the contract? She had almost forgotten about the damn thing. Her misery had been focused on everything said before and after he’d brought up the contract that night.
“Okay. And?” she prompted when he didn’t continue.
His smile slowly faded. “And what?”
“Is there anything else you’d like to apologize for?”
His forehead creased, his body tensing. “Such as?”
Was he really going to make her say it? Because she had no problem with that.
“You left!”
His face froze in astonishment, and she went on before he could say anything.
“You ran off to merry ol’ London without a word, and didn’t contact me for almost two freaking months, Zane! Maybe you should apologize for that ill-conceived plan instead.”
He looked completely baffled. “Have you forgotten you wouldn’t answer any of my calls or texts? And there were a lot, by the way. You told me you wanted space, so I gave you space to work through whatever the hell it was you had to work through. I gave you what you wanted.”
She rolled her eyes and threw her hands up. “I didn’t ask you to move across a damned ocean! Once I finished dealing with my issues, how were we supposed to fix things with you thousands of miles away?”
“You knew I was leaving,” he said. “You knew from the beginning, but it never seemed to bother you.”
“Well, it did! I thought you were gone for good.”
He backed down the stoop a couple of steps, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand you. You say one thing, and I do it, giving you what you asked for, and then you bite my head off. How am I supposed to know what you really want?”
She wanted to shake him. “I was just asking for a break, a little distance. But not that much distance for two freaking months.”
He looked back up at her, fire filling his eyes. Damn, he looked good like that, all passion and strength.
“How was I supposed to know that?” he demanded. “To my ears it sounded like you were done with us. You wouldn’t talk to me, so I assumed you didn’t care either way.”
God, she hated it when her sister was right.
But she still didn’t feel he was being completely fair. “And you
didn’t think I’d want to know when—or if—you were coming back?” she asked. “I mean, I may have wanted to take a breather, but I’m not the one who just up and left without a word.”
His lips thinned. “Well, maybe I needed to think, too.”
Pain pierced her heart again. Was him needing to think a good or a bad thing? “About what?” she made herself ask.
He stared at the cars driving by for several moments before answering. Then he looked back up at her. “You said some things that night that no one had ever brought to my attention before,” he said in a quiet voice. “Or maybe I just never paid attention before. I suppose I just needed to reflect and get some things squared away in my head. Figure out where I want to go from here.”
Oh, shit. That sounded…scary. And final.
She swallowed the giant lump that had settled in her throat. “And did you?”
She held her breath, waiting for his answer.
“I did. It’s the reason I’m standing here now.” His eyes were dark and intent, pinning her in place. “But none of it matters if you aren’t…interested.”
Oh, damn. This was it. The moment she had to buck up and take that plunge into the forbidden land of commitment.
She took a steadying breath. “Then I guess this is where I should apologize, too.”
His eyes softened a touch at those words. “You—”
She held up a hand. “No, let me finish.” She couldn’t let herself stop until she’d said what she needed to say. “I’m sorry for reacting the way I did and not explaining myself properly. For taking my insecurities out on you. And for being too stubborn to tell you how I feel when you asked me.”
“How you feel?” he almost whispered.
“Yes,” she replied, her voice a little shaky. “How I felt then, and how I still feel.”
He mounted the two steps to reach her. “And…how do you feel?”
Do it, she told herself firmly.
Don’t think, just say it.
“Like there’s no point to my life if you’re not in it,” she admitted, laying all her cards—and her heart—on the table.
Something she hadn’t dared risk in a long time.
Casual Affair (Slow Seductions) Page 17