“Zack, I’m glad you’re here,” Amy said without a trace of hysteria. “I’ve been telling Mr. Minella how you discovered the lost designs and a little bit about the history of the mill. He’s familiar with Ezekial Jekel’s family history in New England.”
Zack shook the journalist’s hand, then nodded as he leaned close to whisper in Amy’s ear. “I was going to send you back to the hotel to rest, but how can I do without you, when you create such magic as this? Who are all these people?”
Flustered but smiling radiantly, Amy stepped aside and gestured toward several corporate types examining their samples. “They’re from local furniture manufacturers,” she murmured. “I know them, so I thought I’d take them out for a quick bite before the reception. Luigi will bring you to join us when you’re done here.”
Before Zack could open his mouth to protest, his beautiful executive Amy took the arm of one of the suits and led the retinue toward the exit, leaving him alone with the reporter and photographers and a crate of champagne.
And he had worried about her…why?
* * *
“Look at the orders,” Amy whispered as if fearful of waking jealous gods. It was the end of the High Point show week, and she flipped through sheaves of invoices they’d carried back to their hotel room.
It had been a long and exhausting week. Only having Amy to himself every night had kept Zack going. He’d once enjoyed feasting and partying at these industry gatherings, but he would much rather take Amy home and slip into something comfortable now, and not just their bed, although he enjoyed that as well. If nothing else convinced him that he and Amy belonged together, this week with her had done it. Waking up to her tossed curls, working closely in a high-pressure environment all day, listening to her intelligent insights over dinners filled with guests, making love to her in the moonlight…had shown him what he’d been missing for years. They’d scarcely had more than a few hours at night alone together, but she had been in this thoughts every minute of the day.
And still he couldn’t get enough of her.
But he also missed the children. He missed his ugly desk in his even uglier office and the work they represented. He missed the people with whom they worked. And the challenge of the cottage.
He’d always liked watching his hard work create something new and strong, but real work was even more satisfying than filling his company’s coffers. The sales Amy held in her hand would keep an entire town fed for another year.
“It was you who knew everyone and steered them our way. You didn’t need me,” he said proudly.
He wasn’t complaining. Saint-Etienne Fabrications needed him. They wouldn’t exist without his expertise. But with Amy in charge at the mill, he wouldn’t have to feel guilty when he ran off to Paris to look after business. Amy could handle the mill with one hand tied behind her back. If only she would wake up and realize it.
Instead, her expression revealed fear…and maybe, sadness? Both tugged at his weakening heart.
“I didn’t do anything but talk.” She shrugged.
She was wearing the lovely rose silk knit shell and floral gauze skirt he’d bought for her this past week, and she looked exquisitely lovely. Looking at her, he was a well-satisfied man. If only he could persuade her that she would fit into his life in Paris or London just as easily as here.
But she grew mutinous and backed off every time he came near such a suggestion. He wouldn’t give up his career. And it seemed she would not give up her home.
He had only to think of his parents to know how badly that worked.
“You have a way of talking that makes a man want to listen,” he murmured, sliding his hand into her hair. He loved the silkiness of it. He loved more the knowledge that he had a right to touch her, and that she no longer turned away from his caresses.
Her eyes smiled when they met his. “You are so full of it, Saint Stevie,” she said with laughter, easing the insult by meeting his kiss with the same hunger he felt.
It was amazingly terrifying how they fell into the familiarity of touching each other, kissing and holding hands as if they were mere adolescents. Zack slid his hands beneath Amy’s silk shell and unfastened her bra, knowing as he did so that she would relax that stiff spine of hers and welcome his hands on her breasts with a sigh of appreciation and fervent kisses.
“After these past nights, I do not think I can bear to go back to sleeping alone.” He drew off the shell and flung it with her bra onto the hotel dresser. “Perhaps we ought to buy that yacht you crave and sail around the world together.”
She laughed into his mouth while her nimble fingers unfastened his shirt buttons. “A yacht big enough for a nanny and two children and a few schoolteachers?”
“If need be.” He pushed down her gauzy skirt and let it fall to the floor with his shirt, lifting her to taste her breasts before carrying her to the bed and falling down beside her.
He wanted to ask her to marry him, but an industry meeting was neither the time nor the place. He wanted Paris and a diamond ring and sweet music to give her the special memory she deserved. He had it all planned out in his mind, once they had the market behind them. Once he was certain she would say yes. Which meant conquering her fears. He prayed that wouldn’t take too long.
“This has been a lovely escape from reality,” she murmured as they snuggled closer, naked chests touching and arousing. She nipped a corner of his mouth and ran her hands over his shoulders.
He didn’t want this to be an escape. He wanted this to be the reality. He would work to make it so. “It has been all my pleasure, my love.”
They kissed slowly, savoring what could be their last night together for a while. The scents of sandalwood and jasmine mingled with sweat and the metallic aroma of the rain that had slowed the final day of the market. Humidity curled their hair and moisturized their skin while they rolled amid the wrinkled sheets.
Amy moaned her ecstasy at Zack’s expertise, and cried out in pleasure when his deep, hard thrusts brought them both to exquisite release.
He was a demanding lover, but one who took care of her in ways Amy had never experienced. She’d learned to eagerly anticipate their nights together, to share his joy or her frustration and release them in this joining of their bodies. She’d never known she could be seduced by a kiss on the back of her knees or reduced to molten jelly by a nibble at her nape or the caress of his toe on the bottom of her bare foot. She exhilarated in vibrant sensations that she’d thought lost long ago.
And when he’d worn out both of them, and they lay in each other’s arms, mingling the perspiration on their skin, she could feel his heart beating with hers, feel his pleasure the same way she felt his breathing. And understood that they were sharing their days and their lives with this physical joining.
How would she survive when he returned home?
“This was such a huge mistake.” She sighed and snuggled closer, sliding her knee between Zack’s thighs.
“Mmmm.” He nuzzled her ear. “You are right. We should have ordered wine first. How can you ever forgive me?”
She wanted to giggle, but the future arrived tomorrow, and it oppressed the joy she’d learned at his hands. “I can see why you love this life, the wining, the dining, the lack of any duties other than being yourself. No dishes to wash, no beds to make. No responsibility except to get up in the morning and smile. It’s an amazing life.”
He laughed into her hair, and his hand did treacherous things to her breast. “It is all yours for the asking. Come with me to Europe. I will give you silk sheets and your own maid. We will find you beautiful clothes and a wee dog you can carry in your purse.” He paused thoughtfully and nipped her earlobe. “The children will see all the sights of Europe.”
She knew he’d been teasing at first, describing the glamorous shallow world where she didn’t belong, but the serious note that had crept in when he mentioned the children opened the can of worms she’d been avoiding. She pushed him away and sat up. The patter of ra
in on the windows warned of impending thunderstorms, and she desperately needed to see that Josh and Louisa weren’t afraid.
She desperately needed her feet on home ground to think through what was happening to her. “I need to go home tonight. You and Luigi don’t need me to oversee the packing up tomorrow.”
Zack caught the corner of the sheet she had wrapped around her and tugged her backward. “It is late. It is pouring hard and nasty out there. Listen to the wind. We have meetings tomorrow. After them, we will go.”
“No, I need to go now.” Instinct insisted, although she didn’t think she could explain that to the satiated man sprawled naked across the sheets. There was no logic to this craving to see that her children were all right. “My truck is at the market. Could Luigi take me over there?”
They’d used her pickup to haul boxes from the plant. They’d need it to haul them back up again, but she didn’t care. If she didn’t get out now, this quicksand of luxury would pull her under, and she would never surface in her world again. She needed her children to keep her grounded.
“The children are fine.” Zack sat up with the sheet over his knees. “Call if you are worried, but they will be in bed.”
She couldn’t look at Zack sitting there all masculine amid the sheets, his hair tousled, his jaw stubbled, his sinewy arms ready to reach for her. Her womb clenched just thinking of how it would feel to climb back in with him. It was a damned good thing she used birth control, because they hadn’t shared an ounce of sense between them.
The idea of creating babies with him loomed too vividly in her mind. She had to get out before she started imagining a little boy with Zack’s laughing eyes or a little girl with his mischievous mouth, and she fell into that hormonal trap all over again.
“I’ll take the orders back to the mill and set up a production plan. I need to be home.” Amy couldn’t look at him as she escaped into the shower, but she mentally begged him to understand.
Zack followed her in, striding naked across the tiles, stepping into the pounding water to press her up against the wall, bringing his nose down to hers. “You are running away, Amaranth Jane. Why?”
“I am going home, Jacques Saint-Etienne, to where I belong. Being with you is running away.” Sidestepping him, she reached for the soap.
“Being with me is running away? How? I will take you home tonight, if that is your wish. I will take you with me to Paris when I go next week. I want you to be home with me.”
Cold shock hit her with the same force as icy water, and Amy stared at him with incredulity. “You are leaving for Paris? Next week? When did you plan to tell me that?”
Trying not to show how badly she was shaken by this unanticipated announcement, she shut off the shower and grabbed a towel. He was leaving. She’d known he had to sometime. But the immediacy felt like abandonment to her, and she’d had enough of that for three lifetimes. Uprooting lives should take time. And planning. And a better warning than this.
She had been determined to look on this as a brief affair, an escape from reality until she’d adjusted to her new one. But she hadn’t expected it to end so abruptly.
Accepting that she had to divorce Evan had come gradually, after a long struggle. Accepting that she had to let Zack go walloped her all at once. She was amazed she hadn’t hit the tiles and slid to the floor from the shock.
“I did not know if I could go until now. We have much to do here.” Zack grabbed another towel and began angrily rubbing his hair. “But you have done so wonderfully well that I thought it would not hurt to check on another project. I have a business to run.”
He was right, of course. He had a business, and it wasn’t hers. She knew that.
She would not cry. She refused to cry. She had cried for months when Evan had left. She had no more tears left in her. She’d vowed never to need a man ever again.
He wasn’t leaving her. She was leaving him.
Positive affirmations did not fill the hollow inside or avert the need to cry herself sick. She didn’t want to think of being alone and vulnerable again. Amy stalked out of the bathroom, grabbed a shirt from the closet, and jerked it on, then rummaged in a dresser for panties before heaving all the rest of her clothes from the drawers into her open suitcase.
Zack watched her in frustration. “I need to do many things here, but my real work is over there. That is how I make my living. You know all this.”
“I do know all this. It has nothing to do with my need to see my children now. My children come first. You know all that,” she added, mimicking him.
“Why are we fighting?” he shouted. “I will take you home. You will see your children. We will make production plans. I will be back….”
He halted hesitantly, and she sent him a scathing look.
“Right. You’ll be back. Sometime. Don’t do me any favors. I am perfectly capable of making a production plan. We will find a plant manager because I sure the hell won’t do it on my own. Unlike you, I have a life. Give us a call occasionally to remind us that you exist. But give us first option on the mill when you decide to sell.”
She slammed her suitcase and jerked the zipper. It stuck. Of course it stuck. She didn’t fix things. She broke them. It was a wonder she hadn’t blown all the electricity in the hotel.
She hadn’t blown any gadgets in weeks.
Shoving a loose sleeve into the bag, she tugged the zipper and got it closed.
“We cannot live on two continents,” he said firmly. “What we have is special. We can’t throw it away over a moment’s disagreement.”
“I don’t want special!” she yelled in frustration and fury. “I want every day. I want boring. I want someone who hangs around long enough for meals and fights. Special is for holidays!”
“I’ll take you home with me,” he said with a shade of desperation. “I’ll introduce your children to my parents. We’ll share Christmas in London. Give me a chance!”
She did weep then. Tears started rolling down her cheeks and wouldn’t stop. She didn’t want him introducing her to his parents, pretending they had a chance. “I can’t live in London.” She hiccupped. “This is my home. London is where you belong. Let’s not pretend anymore, all right? I’ve done what you’ve asked of me here. Just let me get my life back.”
Wiping hastily at her cheeks, she retrieved a pair of slacks from the closet, pulled them on, then swept the rest of the hangers into her garment bag while Zack hastily dressed.
“I do not beg, Amy,” he said through clenched teeth. “I offer you everything I have. I cannot do more.”
“There is nothing you can offer me besides yourself, Zack,” she said sorrowfully, rubbing her eyes dry. “I have a family and a home and a life of my own. I won’t give them up for you.”
He snatched the garment bag from her and opened the door. She didn’t have the heart to look into his eyes and see anger there. Or even hurt. She knew he was capable of being hurt.
But if she left now, it wouldn’t be as bad as it would be later, when they tore each other apart attempting to be what they could not because they were in each other’s way. She knew that from cold, hard experience.
Thirty
Amy insisted that Zack stay at the hotel. He insisted that Luigi drive her home in the Bentley. Since the rain was coming down in sheets, and she didn’t look forward to the four hour drive home in her current state of hysteria, she agreed. Her children needed a mother all in one piece.
When they arrived in Northfork after midnight, she apologized to Luigi. He seemed stoic about the whole episode, while still managing to emanate an air of disapproval. She swore she’d make up for the ungodly hour to him later, then stumbled upstairs to her empty apartment rather than wake Jo’s household.
She crawled into her cold bed and shivered in the dampness generated by the torrential rain pounding on the roof, missing Zack’s warm body radiating heat next to hers, yet knowing the longer she stayed and continued to dream, the harder it would be to say good-bye. She’d
spent this last year sleeping alone. She’d learn to get used to it again. Somehow. In a million years or so.
Zack had wanted to take her and the kids to London. She’d thought he just wanted an affair. He wanted them to meet his parents. Was he insane? Or was she?
What he suggested was impossible. An international entrepreneur might be used to living on planes and in hotels. Change was nothing to him. He’d worked his way into the community, the mill — her life — in a few days, and could walk away just as easily.
She couldn’t do that.
Assuming she could as easily fit into his life as he did into hers was a monstrous leap of faith even she couldn’t make. It had taken her years to figure out what she wanted…and he wanted to turn everything she knew about herself inside out on a whim? Her children needed stability. Routine. Consistency.
He hadn’t mentioned marriage.
What in hell was she thinking? She didn’t want marriage, ever again.
She wept into her pillow, too exhausted to sort it all out.
* * *
The wind ripped at the roof over the apartment as Amy staggered from bed and wrapped herself in a robe the next morning. She’d left her electric kettle at the office, so she filled a sauce pan with water for her tea and reached for the phone.
She hated wind. She watched the rain course down the huge windows, shielding the view of the mountain, and waited for Jo to answer the phone on her end.
“I got in late last night,” she told her sister at her greeting. “I thought I’d take today off and putter around the cottage. What do you say I take the monsters off your hands? You’ve been a gem to take care of them. I owe you and Mom heaps and bunches.”
“You got the mill running,” Jo replied. “Mom thinks you walk on water. Of course, if you’ll look out the window, you’ll see that you might have to walk on water to get over here. The highway has turned into white-water rapids.”
Amy carried the cordless to the front window and tried to see the street, but everything was a gray haze of wind and water. “That looks bad. Maybe I better go down to the café and start some coffeepots running.”
Sweet Home Carolina Page 27