Winning Amelia

by Ingrid Weaver

  “I did mention I’m no longer working for you, didn’t I? That means no more free rides.”

  “I know, but—”

  “This sixty bucks isn’t a gift. Let’s get that straight. I expect to be paid back when you redeem your lottery ticket.”

  “But I don’t have the ticket.”

  “That’s not my problem. You only asked me to find the painting. I did. I’m done.”

  “Look, I realize you’re angry with me right now...”

  “Angry?” He returned the cash to his wallet and jammed it back into his pocket. “Why should I be angry? Just because I’ve been used and lied to? Made a fool of? Because I’ve been donating my services to help an old friend I thought was destitute but who turns out to be a millionaire?”

  “I offered to pay. I never asked for your pity.”

  “You didn’t have to. You knew I was a soft touch, same as I realized what you were like when I took this case.” He snorted a laugh. “And here I thought I was getting to know you again. I shouldn’t have bothered. You’re still the same. You had me going with that act about how important the painting was to you, but I should have realized a woman like you would never be motivated by sentiment.”

  “What does that mean? A woman like me?”

  “It was about the money now just like it was about the money then.”

  “Then? What are you talking about?”

  He started up the next flight of stairs. “That’s why you married Spencer, wasn’t it? Because he was rich?”

  “He wasn’t anywhere near as rich when I married him.” She followed, keeping one step behind him. “And my ex-husband has nothing to do with us.”

  “No? Then why didn’t you tell me the truth about the ticket? And don’t say you didn’t think it was necessary.”

  “Okay, yes, I lied because of Spencer. After what he did to me, I wasn’t eager to trust anyone with my money.”

  “Including me.”

  “Especially you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you had already proved I couldn’t trust you.”

  “How did I do that?”

  “Because you dumped me. But that’s your pattern, isn’t it? As soon as the going gets rough, you quit.”

  He stopped where he was. She bumped into his back. He turned and reached for her shoulders to steady her, but released her just as quickly when she winced. He cursed himself for forgetting her bruise. “I never dumped you, Amelia.”

  “Don’t start with the word games again, Hank. You dumped me then just like you’re dumping me now.”

  Her voice echoed hollowly from the cinder block walls of the stairwell, along with the muffled sound of a distant car alarm. The air smelled of oil and cement and city humidity. White bulbs glowed starkly behind metal safety grates. This was hardly the place to hold a conversation that had waited fifteen years. As settings went, it was even worse than standing in a ditch next to a car wreck. But Hank was done being patient. He’d waited long enough. “For a smart woman, you really didn’t see it, did you?”

  “See what?”

  “I broke up with you to set you free, Amelia.”

  “You’re still sticking with the cheesy lines.”

  “Put aside all that resentment you’ve been carrying around and think this through, for a change.”

  “Believe me, I’ve thought about it.”

  “I doubt that. It’s not your style. You skim right by anything that hurts.”

  “So you’ve mentioned.”

  “So I did. You must have busted a gut to keep from laughing when I tried that intervention back at the coffee place.”

  “No, Hank, I appreciated your concern, I really did, but—”

  “Save it for someone who’ll believe you, Amelia. We can’t keep avoiding talking about what happened between us. It’s time to settle things, once and for all.”

  “Fine. You want to dredge up the past? Let’s start with how you broke my heart.”

  He hesitated, attempting to order his thoughts, but it was no use. The words had been bottled up so long, they tumbled over themselves to get out. “No, let’s start with that scholarship you won.”

  “What’s that have to do with... Wait. Were you envious? Was that it?”

  “You know me better than that. Don’t you remember how proud I was? How proud your whole family was? You were the first Goodfellow to go to university. With your brains, you could have become anything you wanted to be. That scholarship was going to open up a whole new world for you. It was your chance to leave Port Hope and spread your wings. I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t love you. I loved you too much to hold you back.”

  “It wasn’t love.”

  “Yeah, we already got that straight, but at the time, we believed it was. Remember the day before you were supposed to leave home? You said you wanted to forget school and get married?”

  She winced again, but it wasn’t from any physical discomfort. “Of course, I remember it. Vividly. It was the most humiliating moment of my life.”

  “And I handled it about as clumsily as a teenage boy could.”

  “I scared you off. I figured that out. Asking for a commitment like that would send most boys running, but I had been laboring under the delusion that we really were in love.”

  “So was I. I might have been a teenager, but I was old enough to realize we weren’t in any position to get married. Neither of us had jobs, we couldn’t even have afforded a place to live. What had you expected, that we would stay with my father and bum our meals off your parents? That’s no way to start a life together, and more than anything, I wanted to make you happy.”

  “By dumping me flat and breaking my heart?”

  “By ensuring you had a choice. I didn’t want you to throw away your big chance just to stay with me, and if I’d agreed to get engaged, that’s what would have happened. I know you wouldn’t have waited. That’s how you are. That’s why I had to make the break. It was for your sake.”

  “But you never said...”

  “I trusted you, Amelia. I trusted our love. I was more than willing to wait the four years while you got your degree. I was willing to wait forever, because I was certain you would come back to me. Shows you what a fool I was. The next thing I knew, you were dating some rich old professor.”

  “Spencer wasn’t my professor, he was a guest lecturer in my Introduction to Economics course. And he was only six years older than me, hardly ancient.”

  “But he was rich.”

  “He was well-off.”

  “Now who’s playing word games, Amelia? Idealistic fool that I was, I hoped you would come back to me if I had more money. That’s why I moved out to the oil sands. I worked like a dog and lived in places that would make Will and Jenny’s back room look like a palace. For a while I even lived in my car. I saved every penny. I did it for us. For our future.”

  She descended a step, grasping the handrail with both hands. She shook her head. “I never guessed.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. You were too busy getting wined and dined by the charming, sophisticated, well-off Spencer Pryce. You forgot all about the ordinary guy you’d sworn you loved a few months before.”

  “I was hurt. I was vulnerable. He was there and you weren’t.”

  “Like I said, you had made your choice.”

  “That’s not fair. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Hank stretched his hand toward her hair, but he stopped short of touching her. “I tried, but you refused to talk to me.”

  “You couldn’t have tried very hard.”

  He dropped his hand. “That’s right. Blame me. Don’t blame your habit of jumping in with both feet before you bother to look where you’re going.”

  “Oh, and your penchant for not making a move until you’ve analyzed it to death had nothing to do with what happened?”

  “You’re too impatient.”

  “And you hide behind your caution like a kid under his security blanket.”

>   He moved down until he stood on the step beside her. “You should be grateful that one of us did think ahead. If I’d agreed to get married when you’d asked, it never would have worked out.”

  “That’s right. It would have been a colossal mistake.”

  “We needed to grow up.”

  “And we have. And clearly, you haven’t changed.”

  “Too bad you haven’t, either.” He grasped the handrail, placing his hands next to hers and caging her between his arms. He leaned closer until he could feel her body heat. “Yeah, some things just don’t change.”

  Her eyes darkened in an obvious if involuntary response to his proximity. She pressed her back to the railing. “You’re still afraid to take chances.”

  “Not always.” He looked at her mouth. “Depends on the stakes.”

  “What about fifty-two million? Are those stakes high enough?”

  He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly through his nose, trying to fight off the next spurt of anger, only this time it was directed at himself. As he’d just explained to her, he’d known what kind of woman she was. He’d reminded himself countless times. Once she decided on a goal, she pursued it one hundred percent. Why shouldn’t she bring the topic back to the only thing that really mattered to her?

  Her palm settled on his chest. She began to push him away, then stopped and spread her fingers. The caress was tentative, unsure, almost as if they were teenagers again. And just like every time she touched him, his common sense took a flying leap from his rapidly emptying brain.

  There was something else that had waited for fifteen years. It had nothing to do with words, which was good, because Hank didn’t have any left. Besides, actions always spoke louder. He lowered his head. Though his eyes were still shut, he had no difficulty finding Amelia’s lips.

  * * *

  AMELIA KNEW SHE was in trouble. She was a thirty-four-year-old woman who had been married for nine years and divorced for more than one. She wasn’t some inexperienced teenager in the throes of first love. The physical aspects of a man-woman relationship no longer held any mystery for her, and yet...

  Oh, could Hank kiss! His mouth moved over hers, whisper-soft at first, letting her savor the contact and his warmth. He didn’t push, he didn’t lead, he invited. He gave her the same tenderness she’d felt in his chaste pecks at the gallery, only this time she also felt the masculine power beneath the surface. Apart from her lips, he touched her nowhere else, which only made her excruciatingly conscious of all the places that longed for his touch.

  She understood the kiss was merely a side effect of their argument. It was the sort of thing that could happen when passions got aroused. In the heat of the moment, barriers were dropped. Inhibitions were bypassed. Nerves that had been frazzled and raw reacted to any sensation far more intensely than otherwise.

  But the pleasure that zinged through her blood and curled her toes was from more than a mindless response of her body. She was old enough to know that this connection was more than physical.

  And that’s why she was in trouble.

  She didn’t want this. Getting involved with any man at this point in her life was the last thing she needed. Getting involved with this one would be insane.

  But oh, could he kiss....

  “Come on, buddy. Get a room.”

  At the muttered comment, she gasped and jerked back. Hank lifted his head to look over his shoulder.

  A pair of middle-aged men in business suits were descending the staircase, shifting into single file to get around them. The man in front carried a salesman’s sample case tucked high under one arm and kept his gaze on his feet. The man who followed leered at Amelia and waggled his tongue lewdly as he passed, then quickly caught up to his companion. They rounded the corner at the next landing and disappeared from view, but the scuffing of their shoes on the concrete—and their low laughter—remained.

  Hank released his grasp on the handrail, raised his palms and retreated to the other side of the step where they both stood. He shook his head like a swimmer just surfacing. “Amelia...”

  “Don’t you dare apologize.”

  “I shouldn’t have—”

  “Forget it,” she snapped. She tugged the hem of her jacket to straighten it. “We’re both grown-ups. These things happen. It was no big deal.”

  “I’m not apologizing for the kiss. I’m apologizing for the lack of privacy.”

  “It makes no difference, because it isn’t going to happen again. I’ve told you repeatedly that this isn’t what I want.”

  “Just so we’re clear, define this.”

  She waved her hand back and forth between them. “You and me. I don’t want to revisit the past or rekindle it or however you want to put it. We were a mistake then just like we would be a mistake now.”

  “Right. You only want your money. That’s what you value. That’s all that matters to you.”

  “Stop trying to make me feel guilty. I have plenty of solid, practical reasons for pursuing that ticket. Anyone would.”

  “How much is it worth to you?”

  “How much?” She glanced down the stairwell. The men’s voices had faded, but someone else could happen by at any second.

  Hank seemed to guess her thoughts. He made a move as if he were about to take her hand, then closed his fingers into a fist and dropped his arm. He climbed the remaining steps to the next landing and opened the door to the garage. He motioned her to go through. “This is our level. Let’s talk in the car.”

  “What more is there to say? I’m taking the bus home, remember? You quit.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll get you what you want, but my help comes with strings attached.”

  She eyed him cautiously. “What kind of strings?”

  “Consider me your new partner.”

  “Partner?”

  “I don’t want a fee, I want a share,” he said. “When we get the ticket, I take twenty percent.” He waited for a response. When she gave none, he shrugged and entered the garage.

  This time it was Amelia who shook her head like a surfacing swimmer. She grabbed the door before it finished swinging shut and raced after him. She caught up to him as he unlocked the car. “That’s outrageous!”

  He opened the passenger door, waited until she was seated, then slammed her door, rounded the car and slid behind the wheel. “Outrageous? You of all people should be careful about using that word, considering the charade you’ve been putting on for the past eight days. I’m offering you a fair deal.”

  “I’m not giving you twenty percent of my money. What on earth makes you think I would agree to a deal like that?”

  He backed out of the space carefully and wound his way through the garage and down the ramps to ground level. He didn’t answer her question until he had paid the attendant and merged into the traffic on the street. “You’ll agree because it doesn’t take a mathematical genius to figure out that eighty percent of the money is better than none of it.”

  “I don’t need you. I can get the ticket myself, now that I know where it is.”

  “Can you? Do you think Whitcombe’s going to let you wander around the gallery on your own again after what you just pulled?”

  Probably not. She might not find the storeroom door unlatched next time, either.

  “And you can forget the auction. Unless you’ve got another secret lottery ticket stashed away somewhere, you’d never be able to win the bidding.”

  That was true, too. The three hundred and fifty dollars in her first-and-last fund wasn’t even close to the price range of the paintings she’d seen today. She ground her teeth.

  They neared the yellow building that housed the gallery. Hank jerked his head toward it as they passed. “Another thing to keep in mind—I know where that ticket is, too. If you don’t take my deal, what’s to stop me from getting it myself?”

  “No! You wouldn’t! That’s blackmail!”

  “Why are you acti
ng so shocked? I’m just doing what you expected. That’s what you were worried about from the start, wasn’t it? That I would steal your money the way Spencer did?”

  Yes, that was what she’d told herself, but in her heart she’d wanted to believe Hank was a decent man. His actions during the past week had proved it. Or so she’d thought. Then again, she knew better than to trust her judgment, didn’t she? She’d made one doozy of a bad choice fifteen years ago. The past she’d assumed she’d understood had been turned upside down. There was too much to sort through right now, but one fact was clear. She’d made an even bigger mess of her life than she’d realized.

  “Lucky for me you didn’t take the time to sign the back of the ticket.”

  “How did—” She caught herself too late. She banged her head against the back of the seat and completed her question, since she’d already given it away. “How did you guess?”

  “You wouldn’t have been acting this desperate if you’d taken the time to sign it, which I guessed because I’m taking time to think things through.” He slowed to a stop at an amber light. Cars honked behind him. “There are consequences to always being in a hurry.”

  He was making an effort to sound calm and reasonable, but his knuckles were white where he gripped the wheel and the tendons stood out on the backs of his hands. She turned to look at him. A quick flick of his eyes was the only indication that he sensed her regard. He kept his attention fixed on the road. If anything, his expression was even harder than it had been in the stairwell. He was still furious.

  She laid her fingers on his sleeve. Beneath his jacket, his arm felt like steel. “Hank...”

  A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Don’t try it.”

  “What?”

  “This,” he said, lifting his hand from the wheel to wave it back and forth between them, mimicking the gesture she’d used minutes ago.

  The motion also shook off her touch. She clenched her hands in her lap.

  “I won’t pretend that I’m not physically attracted to you, Amelia,” he said. “And from the way you participated in that kiss a few minutes ago, I’d say the attraction’s mutual.”

  She couldn’t argue with that so she remained silent.