by Judith Yates
He watched her out of the corner of his eye. Holding the cup between her hands, she looked deep in thought, closed off and far away. Oddly enough, this reminded him of how much they had shared this evening. Up to now.
Paul realized he wanted that back. After gulping down the rest of his coffee, he rolled the empty cup around and around with his fingers. Then, before he knew it, he had dredged up his newscaster voice for the second time that night and was using the overturned cup for a sound “mike.”
“Ms. Riordan, a distinct pall has befallen this gazebo tonight. As an eyewitness, would you tell our viewers— in your own words—why this has happened.”
Amy seemed taken aback at first. But when he pushed the paper microphone in front of her, she smiled and shook her head.
“Come, come, Ms. Riordan, your public needs to know.”
“Do they?” Her dark blue eyes locked onto his.
“Yes,” he admitted softly, dropping the anchorman facade. “Won’t you tell me what the problem is?”
“There’s no problem—not anymore. Jeff Martin is my ex-fianct,” she revealed with a shrug. “Besides, I feel like I’ve already talked your ear off with my tales of woe.”
“You haven’t.”
“My life really isn’t that depressing.” She got to her feet and began pacing across the gazebo. “I’ve got my mother and stepfather, wonderful friends, a town house I love and a great business.”
“I don’t doubt any of that.”
“So I struck out in the relationship department,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “These things happen and I—”
Paul grabbed her hand to make her stop. “Amy, you don’t have to justify yourself to me. I don’t see you as some poor, pitiful soul.” He pulled her back down beside him. “I want you to keep talking to me. I want to know why that message took the smile from your eyes. I want to know about you.”
Chapter Five
Amy gazed back at him, speechless. Paul wondered if he’d pushed too far. “You can tell me to mind my own business.”
He hoped she wouldn’t.
“It’s kind of embarrassing.” She looked away. “Being jilted always is.”
“It happens to the best of us,” he said, although it was hard to imagine how any man could leave this bright, lovely and apparently not-so-spoiled rich girl. He encouraged her with a squeeze of his hand. “Don’t feel embarrassed.”
Keeping her hand in his, Amy took a deep breath before beginning. “This may sound terrible, but I’ve had to be careful with people. The fact that Thomas Windom is my stepfather tends to have a strange effect on some.”
“You mean the kind who take advantage.”
She nodded. “I had to learn to keep my guard up at a young age.”
“With this Martin fellow, too?”
“At first I did. Jeffrey Martin was—is—an up-andcomer at my stepfather’s law firm. Before we met, I had a rule—no dating men who worked at Windom and Hart.”
“But it was different with this guy.”
“I thought so,” she admitted, staring straight ahead. “He seemed so genuine. Even my mother thought the world of him. And let me tell you, that’s no easy trick. Eventually, Jeff took me to meet his parents. They own a bakery in Cleveland. They were great. Then, within three months, we were engaged, with announcements in all the papers. There was a huge party, too.”
“How long were you engaged?”
“Three months. My mother was pushing us to set a spring date so she could start wedding arrangements. A Windom wedding has to be an event, you know.” With a sigh, she slipped her hand from his grasp. “That’s when Jeff came clean. He couldn’t go through with the wedding. He was still in love with his college sweetheart— whom he apparently left when he met me.”
“The boss’s daughter.” Paul swore under his breath. “This guy actually pursued you to get ahead?”
“I think Jeff was shocked he’d done it himself. But he couldn’t live with the lie, although he knew he was putting his position at the firm in jeopardy.”
“I hope your stepfather threw the bum out on his ear.”
“He wanted to. But I talked him out of it.”
Paul couldn’t believe it. “Why would you?”
“Because Jeff got in over his head. He never meant to hurt me.”
Paul was struck by the lack of emotion as she told him all this. “Weren’t you in love with the guy?”
She spun around to face him. “I thought I was.”
Did the sudden edge in her voice mean she’d been hurt more than she was willing to admit? Or realized? Paul could identify with that. He used to be an expert at blocking out emotional pain. “I’m sorry it happened to you,” he said, curving his arm across her back. “It must have been rough.”
“Please. I can do without the pity.” Amy pulled away from him and got to her feet. “I’ve had half of Washington feeling sorry for me for months. The other half probably thinks I’m the biggest fool going.”
“I don’t think you’re a fool. It could have happened to anybody.”
She gave him a begrudging smile. “Maybe I’m not that miserable a judge of character. In the end Jeff was honest. He couldn’t marry me or anyone under false pretenses.”
Paul had to smile. The woman had pride. He liked that.
“Why do you think he called tonight?”
“To tell me when he’s getting married.”
“How thoughtful.”
“Jeff means well. And it can’t be easy for him, either. I’m not looking forward to the conversation, though. It’s still awkward.”
Paul rose from the bench and stood before her. He felt for her and admired her at the same time. “You’re quite a lady, Amy Riordan. You know that?”
She didn’t answer, but her gaze never left his. Although the scattered ground lights cast a few shadowy beams at the gazebo, it was too dark to read the expression in her eyes. He sensed a loneliness in Amy, or perhaps he was projecting his own onto her. Paul didn’t care. He just felt the need to draw her near.
Circling his arms around her waist, he pulled her to him. “All my assumptions about you have been wrong.”
He felt a shiver run through her. “It’s cold,” she said, lowering her face.
Aware only of how if felt to hold her, Paul tightened his embrace to warm her. Or to keep her close.
She pressed her palms against his chest. “Paul—I—”
“Shh. You’ve got to let me apologize for being so judgmental,” he murmured, lifting her chin with his fingers. He felt her body soften as their eyes met, and suddenly his thoughts clouded. Although colorless in the dark, her gaze was wide and lovely, stirring a yearning inside of him, irresistible and warm. He felt pulled into her eyes—into her—closer and closer until his lips brushed hers in a tentative, sweet kiss.
Her moan vibrated against his mouth. He cupped her head between his hands, her fragrant hair thick beneath his fingers. The sound of her, the feel of her, the scent of her propelled him to hold her closer, tighter. He swore he could feel her heart pounding even through their jackets. As he deepened the kiss, Amy curved her arms behind his neck, her lips soft and unresisting.
His mind was in a haze of blossoming passion as her body felt as if it was melting against his. Slowly he caressed her smooth cheeks with his thumbs until she sighed with pleasure, her mouth opening to his insistent tongue. Her feminine warmth engulfed him—he never wanted to stop kissing her. Amy’s growing ardor stirred him deeply. It had been so long since he’d felt this alive, and he hungered for more of her and more of these blessed feelings. Sliding his arms down to her waist, he pressed her against his hips, their kiss still unbroken.
With a sudden groan, Amy stiffened and tore herself away.
“This is not a smart thing to do.” she gasped, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.
“Smart?” He glared at her, bewildered, his breathing as ragged as hers. The abrupt blast of cold night air felt
like icy spikes piercing his hot skin and aching body.
“Getting carried away like this—with the night, the gazebo, all the talk,” she sputtered, backing away from him. “Discussing a personal experience or two doesn’t mean we have to—to—”
“Hold each other? Kiss? Make love?” he said dryly, not sure if he was extremely annoyed, strangely amused or very, very angry.
“I meant we shouldn’t take on more than we can handle,” she insisted. “Just because you realize you’ve jumped to some wrong conclusions about me doesn’t mean you really know me. And I don’t know you.”
“Well, wasn’t that what we were just doing—getting to know each other better?”
Dismay flashed in her eyes. “Not that way, Paul. I’m the one who keeps her guard up, remember?”
“Now I do.” He told himself to cool down. Disappointment shouldn’t overshadow his common sense or whatever he had left of it. Perhaps he had gotten carried away by his attraction for her.
“Besides, I’m staying here just long enough to settle things with Bernadette. There’s no point in you and me getting caught up in—well, you know.” She reached out to touch his arm. “You understand, don’t you?”
Still reeling from the shock of frustrated arousal, he looked down at her hand on his wrist. “I understand.”
But he didn’t like it.
Paul’s kiss was the first thing Amy thought of when she woke up the next morning. How hard it had been to pull away was her second. She had wanted it to go on and on; she hadn’t wanted the exquisite feelings Paul had aroused in her to stop. Had she ever been kissed like that before? Surely she would have remembered. But she knew she’d never responded to a first kiss with such abandon. Contemplating it even now sent her pulse spinning.
Catching herself, Amy realized she’d been right to walk away. Or had she run? That’s what it had felt like after she’d told him good-night and scurried back to the inn. Still, to go from verbally jousting with the man on her first night in Tremont to kissing him—passionately—in the gazebo three days later was quite a leap. And way too fast for her. No matter how good it felt to be held in his arms.
But her record in the relationship department was less than winning. Her choices had not always been good ones, and it was especially hard not to second-guess herself after the breakup with Jeff. If she was smart, she’d stay the heck away from Paul Hanley. This was one attraction she had to sit out.
Amy stretched beneath the smooth sheets and heavy layers of blankets, luxuriating in a last few seconds of warmth. She had already discovered the inn’s heating system was spotty at best. If the misty ice on the windowpanes was any indication, her body was in for a brisk • jolt when she got out of bed.
She washed and dressed quickly, pulling on a red sweater and black jeans, making sure she wore extra warm socks under her ankle boots. Although the smell of fresh-brewed coffee enticed her as she headed downstairs, the thought of the long quiet day ahead of her was daunting. She really had to get down to business with Bernadette soon, or she’d be stuck here till Christmas. Halfway down the stairs, she encountered a work crew on their way to room 16 with ladders, buckets and brushes in tow. Glad to see repairs would soon be under way, Amy hoped Bernadette had begun to recover from yesterday’s calamity.
Only a handful of people were breakfasting in the dining room this morning. Bernadette was nowhere to be seen, but Amy spotted Bridget and her two kids sitting at a corner table near the kitchen door. After serving herself a slice of melon and a cranberry muffin from the buffet table, she poured a mug of coffee and made her way across the room. “May I join you?” she asked Bridget.
“If you don’t mind putt-putt motor sounds and stray cereal in your lap, I’d love it.” Bridget beamed as she pushed Willy’s miniature toy cars to his side of the table. Little Jenny was strapped in an old wooden high chair, eating dry cereal with her fingers. “I’ve just finished checking tomorrow’s dairy order for Mama.”
Amy sat next to Jenny. “I haven’t seen your mother yet, Bridget. She’s all right, isn’t she? I mean about room 16.”
“Oh, she’s fine. And thanks so much for looking after her yesterday. It really helped.” Bridget reached over to wipe Willy’s milk mustache with a napkin. “She’s out doing the marketing with Martin right now.”
“Will she be back soon?”
“Not until later this afternoon. They’re doing major buying today.”
“I see.” Amy buttered her muffin, disappointed and a tad annoyed. She wouldn’t get the chance to talk to Berradette at all today unless she somehow managed to corner her after dinner.
“Mommy?” Four-year-old Willy piped in. “Can I go watch them fix the broken room?”
“Honey, I can’t let you go up there by yourself,” his mother answered. “The workmen are too busy to keep an eye on you. You might get in their way or even get hurt. I’ll take you later—when Jenny’s napping.”
The boy’s mouth drooped. “She never goes to sleep.”
Amy leaned closer. “Willy, if your mommy says it’s okay, I’ll go up with you after I’ve finished my breakfast.”
“Can I go with her, Mom? Can I?” His eyes danced with hope beneath his reddish blond bangs.
“Amy, it’s nice of you to offer. But you must have something you’d rather do.”
“No, I’ll be glad to take him,” Amy said, tossing Willy a wink. “Except for calling my office later to check on a client’s audition, my day is wide open.” Especially with Bernadette gone, she added silently.
“An audition!” Bridget’s eyes widened. She turned to her son. “Amy gets children jobs on TV commercials and in magazines. Isn’t that exciting?”
Unimpressed, Willy returned to putt-putting his toy cars around on the table. But his mother was full of questions about the agency. Amy knew people were often dazzled by the perceived glamour and excitement of her business, and Bridget was no exception. Unlike most mothers she’d met, however, Bridget didn’t entreat her with a hypothetical query about her little ones’ prospects for stardom. For that, Amy was grateful.
When she took Willy up to watch the work in room 16, he was as good as he could be. He watched with openmouthed fascination for quite a while until he got fidgety and lost interest. Willy agreed to take a walk with Amy, and they spent the rest of the morning touring “downtown” Tremont. By then, Amy had been completely charmed.
Before they climbed the hill back up to the inn, Willy persuaded her to stop at the general store to check out the candy counter. “I’ll buy one piece for after your lunch,” she called as he ran ahead to the candy cases surrounding the cash register. “And pick out one for your sister.”
Following a few steps behind, Amy recognized the tiny gray-haired lady standing by the counter, smiling at her. “Hello, Mrs. Pratt. It’s good to see you again.”
“Now, I told you to call me ‘Janie Lee,’” the woman reminded in her watery sweet voice. “You and Mr. Willy look like you’re having yourselves a fine old time this morning.”
Janie Lee proceeded to talk a mile a minute, stopping only to ask Amy a polite question every now and then. So when the old woman asked her how Bernadette and she were getting along, Amy was caught short. She didn’t think it was any business of Janie Lee’s.
“Fine,” Amy said with a smile, elaborating no further. She shouldn’t have been surprised by the question. Hadn’t Paul made it clear that the whole town had heard she was Greg’s daughter?
Without missing a beat, Janie Lee continued prattling on about the Blue Sky until an unkempt woman, with scads of bleached curls, burst into the store leading a black lab on a leash. She marched straight to the counter and ordered a carton of cigarettes. Concerned about Willy’s safety, Amy edged him farther down along the counter, while the store owner admonished the woman for bringing the large dog inside.
“I can’t leave him outside by himself, can I, Ed?” the woman snapped. “Now, how about those cigarettes?”
Janie Lee
walked right up the woman. “I heard you were supposed to be quittin’ those things, Sandy.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll quit.” Sandy waved Janie Lee off. “When I can’t afford to buy ‘em anymore—which will be real soon, thanks to Mr. Paul Hanley.”
“What are you talkin’ about?” Janie Lee demanded.
“Haven’t you heard? Hankey’s threatening layoffs over at the paper. Even my Sam’s job is in jeopardy.” Sandy tossed a wad of bills onto the counter, muttering all the while. “That Hanley comes riding back into town with bags of money and buys the papers right out from under the Tullys. Why doesn’t he use that dough to bail out his business, instead of taking it out of our hides? Tell me that, Janie Lee.”
But Sandy didn’t wait for Janie Lee to answer. She grabbed the cigarettes and stomped off with her dog. Amy looked down at Willy, still enthralled by the candy. selection, oblivious to the woman’s harsh words about his cousin Paul. Then she turned to Janie Lee.
“I’m surprised that gal didn’t buy a six-pack, too. Usually does,” Janie Lee commented, shaking her head. “Don’t you pay her any mind, honey. Some people will never be happy, no matter what.”
As Amy walked back up the hill to the inn, with Willy swinging his paper sack of candy in his hand, she couldn’t help thinking of Sandy’s venomous outburst. Was Paul’s business really in trouble? He hadn’t given any indication of it to her.
Upon reaching the inn, Willy ran ahead, calling to his mother. Inside, Amy found the moist heat from the old steam radiators a welcome relief from the sharp, dry air of early winter.
Bridget emerged from the kitchen to greet them. “Looks like it’s getting cold out there,” she said, lifting her son into her arms.
He showed her the candy Amy had bought. “And I took Amy to the library and the school where I’m gonna go when I’m five,” he revealed. “And we went to the firehouse, but Daddy wasn’t there.”
“That’s because he’s not on duty, sweetheart. He’s working his carpenter’s job today. Remember?”