by Norah Wilson
He went to the closet and opened the white bifold doors. Inside, she saw suit jackets, shirts and pants hung neatly. On the shelf above, jeans, T-shirts and sweaters were stacked perfectly. But on the floor sat three cardboard boxes, the kind offices used to archive old files. One box held footware, another socks, and another underwear.
“Brilliant.”
“My Fredericton condo is more put together,” he said. “It has a walk-in closet with built-in shelving in the master bedroom and built-in cabinets in the living room. It even has some art on the walls.”
She turned to him. “This makes sense, especially if you’re still splitting your time between here and Fredericton.”
“I’ve been thinking about selling the condo.” he said. “The deeper I get into these Prince Region projects, the more I need to be here.”
“What about what you were doing in Fredericton? Are you winding that up?”
“Pretty much. Since Dad got sick, I’ve taken on more at WRP. Between that and my side projects, I knew I had to scale back the consulting service. I won’t leave anyone in the lurch, but I’ve put all my clients on notice that as specific projects finish, I’m done.”
“Good.” She stepped close, moving into his arms. “The Prince Region is certainly going to win under that scenario.”
“Speaking of winning, I was thinking I might talk you into testing out my bed. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s got this super-expensive, chiropractic mattress.”
He slipped his hands under her sweater and ran them up her back, sending tingles of excitement dancing along her nerve endings.
“That,” she said, going up on tiptoe so she could whisper the words against his ear, “sounds like a win-win proposition.”
He shuddered at the warm breath in his ear. She laughed, but it turned to a gasp of surprise as he whipped her off her feet and into his arms.
“Your ankle!” she protested.
“It’s suddenly feeling better.”
He carried her the few feet to the bed and deposited her there before following her down to crush her under his weight. When his hands slipped under her sweater again, she forgot to worry about his ankle. Or pretty much anything else.
Chapter 26
“ANOTHER CUP of tea?” He held aloft the new china teapot he’d bought yesterday. They’d found it at a yard sale they’d happened upon, along with matching mugs, for ten bucks. It wasn’t especially beautiful, but Ember assured him tea demanded china. It just wasn’t the same in the stonewear mugs he used to swill coffee. “There’s plenty left.”
She held out her mug. “Hit me.”
It had been four days. Four of the most incredible days of Jace’s life. He knew they couldn’t go on like this forever, inside this bubble. But dammit, he was going to make it last as long as he could.
He’d been ambivalent going into the arrangement. Accepting her terms meant delaying unburdening his conscience, and he’d feared that weight might overshadow their idyll.
But as it turned out, he needn’t have worried. Oh, the guilt and apprehension were still there, but once he committed to the week, he’d successfully pushed those feelings to the back of his mind, living only in the present. If he woke once in a while in a cold sweat of fear, it was a small enough price for this unsullied time together. The longer they loved and laughed, the stronger the bonds of love and trust would grow. He had to believe that.
They’d just finished a late lunch. Late because they’d gone back to bed mid-morning, napping to make up for lost sleep last night. And when they’d woken, they’d made love again, this time on their sides, her sweet ass tucked up against his groin, his hands free to explore her breasts and belly. And to slide down into the thatch of curls to stroke her intimately, catapulting her into orgasm.
Jace had never enjoyed cooking, but he loved doing it with Ember. At her instruction, he’d heated the chicken stock she’d made last night from the bones of the chicken she’d roasted. Meanwhile, she’d cut up sweet potatoes and shallots and carmelized them in a skillet. Then she’d pureed the potatoes and shallots with the hot chicken stock, salt, pepper and cumin. Eaten with crusty rolls they’d picked up at the baker, the meal couldn’t have been simpler. But it was as delicious as anything he’d ever eaten.
“What do you think about chicken quesidillas for supper?” she asked.
“Sounds great.” He collected the dishes from the table and loaded them into the dishwasher with the skillet and saucepan. “But I don’t think we have flour tortillas, do we?”
“We’ll need to hit the grocery store,” she agreed. “I’ll need some Monterey Jack, too, to go with the cheddar. We’ve got everything I need to make guacamole and we already have salsa and sour cream.”
Jace knew when she said “we”, she meant she would drive them to the grocery store and he would go in. She didn’t want all of Harkness to know they were together. Not yet. And neither did he. The fewer people who knew or suspected, the easier it would be to keep the bubble intact around them.
His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. Carly, from work. He looked at Ember. “I have to take this.”
She waved at him to answer. “Of course. Go ahead.”
It was a quick exchange. Carly had some cheques that needed to be signed. She had signing authority, but because of the dollar figure of several of them, she required a second signature. In Terry’s absence, that meant the signature had to be his. He hung up and turned to Ember.
“I have to run into the office to sign a few things. Do you mind? I can stop at the grocery store on my way back.”
“Would you like me to drive you?” He’d hired a garage to retrieve his vehicle from the parking lot where he’d left it before his fateful hike out to the cabin. They’d delivered it up to his parking lot last night, but he hadn’t yet driven it. He knew she planned to return the rental today and was looking forward to piloting the Escalade.
“No, I can drive myself. The ankle’s about eighty percent.”
“You did have an excellent doctor,” she pointed out.
“So I did.”
He showered and dressed quickly. At the door, Ember gave him a quick kiss goodbye, but he growled and grabbed her. The quick kiss turned into a passionate clinch against the door. When he pulled back a moment later, his heart swelled at the look of her. Hair disheveled, lips swollen, eyelids drooping with drugged arousal. It was all he could do not to drag her off to bed again.
Instead, he put a fingertip to her full lower lip. “Hold that thought. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
***
Smiling, Ember closed the door behind him and leaned against it.
God, she loved him. Loved being with him like this. Cooking, eating, drinking wine at night, talking, making love, even watching TV. If his ankle wasn’t still healing, they could have jogged together like they used to. Rented kayaks and run the river or hiked up Harkness Mountain.
If she stayed here, could they have this life?
Of course you can. What’s to stop you?
Her conversation with Stuart Kirkpatrick came to mind. He’d looked so hopeful when he’d asked if she were considering setting up practice in the Prince Region. She’d said something non-committal at the time, but truthfully she’d never planned to come back to Harkness to live and practice. Too many bad memories. But now...
Now you should check your messages. If she got that out of the way for the day, she’d be free to pounce on Jace the moment he came home. Smiling again, she pushed away from the door and headed for Jace’s office where she’d left her phone plugged in and charging. But when she got there, she spied his briefcase on his desk.
Would he need it for whatever work he had to do? And had he left yet? She went to the window to see him standing by his car in the parking lot below, talking to a neighbor. If she was quick and used the stairs, she might be able to get it down to him before he left.
Grabbing the case by the handle, she took off with it. Except the ca
se fell open, strewing its contents on the floor. Whoops. He’d been into the briefcase yesterday when he’d checked in with the office manager. She’d seen it propped open by his side when she’d brought him a coffee. He must have closed it but not latched it.
She bent to scoop up the papers, but froze when she recognized her father’s name on a document on top of the pile. Dropping the other papers, she stood. An agreement for purchase and sale between Arden Standish and WRP Holdings, Inc.? She frowned. What could her father possibly have to sell to WRP?
She read further and the answer became horribly clear. The farm. Her home. She read it again to make perfectly sure she wasn’t mistaken. She wasn’t. Her father was selling the farm, lock, stock and barrel, to the Picards’ company.
The paper in her hands began to tremble violently. She sank down in Jace’s chair and dropped the document like it was on fire.
That’s why Titus had insisted she and Scott come home for Thanksgiving. What he’d been poised to tell them before the search and rescue calls had come in.
And that’s what Jace had been working himself up to tell her when she’d shut him down. When she’d proposed this week away from the world. This fucking escape from reality. God, what a fool she’d been!
But why would WRP want an organic farm? Agriculture, organic or otherwise, wasn’t exactly in their wheelhouse. What use had they for orchards and strawberry fields and blueberry bushes? They were developers.
The waste treatment facility.
Her stomach roiled violently as she realized why they wanted the property. She put a hand to her mouth, but it did nothing to quell the nausea.
Hazardous waste. That meant risk to the water supply, to agriculture, food safety. Even very low levels of chemicals in drinking water could cause carcinogenic and mutagenic effects in humans, pets and wildlife. And the river...the beautiful river.
How could Jace do this to her? How could her father? Titus? What the hell was going on?
She had to stop it. She’d just talk to Arden. There had to be a way out, a means to void the agreement.
She snatched up the document, searching for the date of the closing.
What the hell? It had already closed, on Tuesday. Two days ago. While she’d been playing house with Jace, the transaction had gone through. Her home—the land that had been in her family for over eighty years—was gone. It belonged to the Picards now.
And Jace’s name was on the agreement for purchase and sale. He’d brokered the deal that stole her heritage even as he’d been professing his love for her. Making her love him back.
Their conversation came back to her:
“I have something else to tell you.”
“Does it have to do with what happened back then?”
“No.”
“Will it ruin this moment?”
“Maybe. Yes, it might.”
“Will it destroy us again?”
“No. I mean, it shouldn’t. Not if you trust me.”
What alternate universe was he living in where he thought she’d be able to swallow a deal that turned their organic farm—her childhood home—into a toxic waste treatment facility?
She sat there for a moment, bringing her heart rate and respirations under control. When she felt less like she might shake apart from sheer rage, she picked up the sale agreement. In the kitchen, she calmly sorted through his utensil drawer, drew out a pointed knife, held the document up to a cupboard door and stabbed it, pinning it in place.
She stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. He’d be coming in with groceries—the stuff for the quesadillas she’d asked him to pick up—so he’d go straight to the kitchen. A grim smile twisted her lips at the thought of his reaction.
Screw you, Jace Picard.
Chapter 27
“EMBER, I’M back.” He let the apartment door close behind him. “Got the stuff you wanted and some fresh pasta too. I know we haven’t planned our meals yet, but I couldn’t resist.”
He dropped his keys on the narrow table in the entryway.
“Ember?”
Still no answer. Had she gone back to bed? His heart rate quickened at the thought of joining her, sliding between the sheets, pulling her slim, warm body close.
Smiling, he headed for the kitchen to put the groceries away. He’d actually stowed most of the stuff in the refrigerator before he saw the knife protruding from an upper cupboard door. The sight almost gave him a heart attack.
“Ember?” Jesus, was she all right?
He raced to the bedroom only to find it empty. The bed was still rumpled. He was dashing back to the kitchen when the mess inside his office caught his eye. He backed up to stand in the doorway. His briefcase lay on the floor, its contents spilled across the carpet.
Shit. He strode back to the kitchen.
The good news? Ember hadn’t been abducted.
He pulled the knife out and took down the agreement for purchase and sale.
The bad news? She’d fled again, just like before. Without giving him a chance to defend himself or explain.
Anger leapt to life. How could she do this to them again? Had she learned nothing? Hadn’t he asked her to trust him?
He drew out his phone and dialed her number. His call went straight to an excessively cheerful voice mail.
Hi, you’ve reached Dr. Ember Standish. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Unless your last name is Standish or Picard, in which case, don’t bother. Have a great day!
Well at least he wasn’t the only one on the shit list. Not that the thought was any comfort. He never did subscribe to the misery-loves-company axiom. Arden had to be suffering. Titus too, since his desire to leave had prompted the sale. They didn’t deserve that treatment.
And neither did Jace, evidence notwithstanding.
Well, if she wouldn’t answer her phone, maybe her host would answer his.
He called directory assistance for a number and dialed it. One hand on the back of his neck, he waited for an answer.
“Groves Construction. We nail it.”
“I need to talk to her.”
Groves had the good sense not to pretend confusion. “I’m afraid you’re S.O.L. right now, ’cuz she’s not taking calls.”
Jace’s hand tightened on the receiver. “I need to explain some things. It’s not what she thinks.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Ryker said, his voice pleasant. “Because if it is what she thinks, I might have to express my displeasure personally. Fist to face, so to speak.”
Jace suppressed a sigh. “Could you please have her call me?”
“We’re talking about Red here.” Jace could hear the shrug in the other man’s voice. “I can’t have her do anything. She’s gotta sort that shit out for herself.”
This time, he did sigh. “Got it,” he said. “Thanks.”
“Hey, Jace?”
He’d been about to close the connection when he heard Groves’s unexpected words. He put the phone back to his ear.
“Yeah?”
“Have faith, man. If you really didn’t sell her down the river, along with this whole damned region, with this toxic waste crap, she’ll come around. Give her some space.”
The ache in his throat forced him to swallow before he could reply. “Thanks, Ryker.”
The line went dead. He shoved his phone in his pocket and leaned against the kitchen counter.
As much as he hated to admit it, Ryker Groves knew Ember. There was no way he was going to get to talk to her until she was ready to listen. Emails? She’d delete them on delivery. If he was really lucky, maybe she’d just let them rot in her inbox. But until she was good and ready, he couldn’t force her to read his messages or take his calls.
There was no way Terry was getting his hands on the Standish farm. He’d seen to that. And when Terry discovered what he’d done, Jace would be getting the boot as a WRP executive. Not that he cared about that. He’d hung in there to try to counter Terry’s megalomania, but
he wouldn’t be sorry to leave. It just meant he’d have to continue the fight from outside the fold.
The fight. His conscience twinged. It was just semantics, but if this truly was a fight, he wasn’t acquitting himself very well. His coach would be ashamed.
Yes, he’d taken measures to protect the Standish farm, but was he doing as much as he could to protect the rest of the region? A hazardous waste treatment facility was so not the kind of development they needed. Not to mention that if Terry pulled it off, Wayne Picard would be rolling in his grave.
That’s it. That’s what I have to do.
Rather than sit around twiddling his thumbs while he waited for Ember to come around, he could be doing something, getting in the fight. Whether he won her back or not, he had to act. He had to be the man Wayne Picard had believed him to be. The man the region needed him to be.
Fired with new purpose, he strode to his office for his contact list.
Chapter 28
“DAD, YOU sold the farm? To the Picards? How could you?”
There were very few things in this world that Arden Standish could not stand. That new car smell that was really the offgassing of toxic chemicals. The taste of warm beer. Reality television. A rat in a barn. But most of all, he couldn’t stand to hear pain in his little girl’s voice. He was hearing it now as he held the phone to his ear. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
He’d known where she was—known she was safe. But he’d had no idea how heartbroken she was.
Until now.
She’d been out of touch for days, letting all their calls go to some voice mail purgatory. Only through Ryker’s good graces did they know she was with him. He’d had the good sense to call Arden on Thursday to tell him not to worry. Ryker also told Arden she’d learned about the sale and was coming to grips with it, but while she did, she’d be staying with him.
Even knowing she was safe, the household was in turmoil. Scott was worried, Titus was angry, and Arden was heavy with guilt.