Unfinished Dreams

by McIntyre, Amanda

  “Ms. Crane, sorry didn’t hear you come in.” He lied with a cheerful smile. There were not many things in his life he had a healthy fear of, but this woman reminded him of a female praying mantis.

  He scooted out from under the car and scrambled to his feet.

  She straightened with the practiced ease of a ballerina and brushed off her skin-tight Capri pants. The crop top she wore was a fashion more suited toward a teenager, but Ms. Crane pulled it off quite nicely.

  Gabe averted his eyes from her flat midriff. Maybe just once he should take her up on her obvious offers. Maybe it would purge the fever that had plagued him all week thinking about the woman that occupied his former house, showered in his former shower, hung her dainty pale pink under things on his former clothesline—

  “Gabe?” The sultry voice pulled him from his reverie and he caught Mrs. Crane’s appreciative gaze at his chest. Suddenly, he wished he’d worn something heavier than his torn t-shirt. Something closer maybe to a zipped parka. He tore his gaze away from her hungry look and focused on the wrench in his hand.

  “I’ve got a bit more work on this, Ms. Crane. Um…can you give me a little more time this afternoon?” He swallowed, tapping the wrench to his palm. When he looked up, she stood so close he could see the tiny cracks in her fading eyeliner. Her hand traveled lightly up his arm, as she smoothed her palms flat to his chest. She pressed her body closer as she smiled up at him, her orange mint breath tingled his nose.

  “Honey, I’ll give you as much of my time as you need.”

  Gabe hesitated. He leaned against the car as far as he could without appearing rude. He considered dropping the wrench on her pretty painted toes.

  “Mrs. Crane.” He enunciated the Mrs. hoping it would jar her conscience, to remember her four late husbands with some respect. No such luck.

  Her fingers touched his bottom lip. Things began to spin wildly out of control. Though he knew the woman spelled trouble, her body was maybe—no definitely—worth a certain amount of risk. Which he was not taking any of these days.

  With the skill of handling a rattlesnake, he reached out and placed his hands on her upper arms. He eased her away, not wishing to hurt her feelings, but dammit he had enough chaos going on inside of him without adding Mrs. C to the mix.

  “Mrs. Crane—” he started, but she interrupted him with her signature sexy pout.

  “Ginny.” She smiled as she trailed her red fingernail down his belly, stopping just short of his jeans snap. Her gaze rolled lazily to his.

  Gabe closed his eyes and refocused his purpose. The woman was not going to make it easy to refuse her and she knew it. Gabe knew the desperate look all to well.

  “Ginny.” He swallowed, glancing sideways at a movement from the corner of his eye.

  “Gabe?” another voice, more startled, issued from the garage door opening.

  He turned and saw Tess clutching her wallet, apparently searching for someone to pay.

  She looked down obviously flustered that she’d interrupted something and quickly rifled through her wallet. Her incessant chatter proved to him that she pretended that coming upon the scene had not rattled her, but he’d already seen the initial look of shock on her face.

  “I-I bought ten dollars worth of gas.” She looked up with a quick smile, her gaze darting toward the woman who stood possessively close, her nail flicking his jean snap impatiently. He knew how it looked. It was as plain as day on Tess’s face.

  “Oh, look, I only have a twenty.” Her voice sounded shaky and she wouldn’t look at him. “Just keep the change. I’ll get it from Merle later, I guess. Sorry,” she muttered and turned on her heel letting the bill fall from her fingers.

  He watched it flutter to the oily garage floor. “Tess.” He found his voice a minute too late as usual and part of him wondered if it were better this way. What did he have to offer her anyway?

  She hurried away and he stared for what seemed an eternity at the twenty-dollar bill that lay on the cement.

  “Someone you know?” Ginny looked up at him with her large green eyes. Her hand rested comfortably over his bellybutton and the sensation nauseated him.

  “Look, I need to get back to work. If you’ll excuse me.” He extracted himself from her grip, walked over, and picked up the twenty. Stepping to the opening of the garage, he scanned the service station area, but Tess was gone. Something inside where his heart should have been twisted in pain, its sensation lasting but a moment. “I’ll have Merle call you when your car’s done, Ginny.”

  He crawled back under the car, separating himself once more from the world.

  * * *

  Her tears made her even angrier. Tess knew driving the excessive speed on the loose gravel was not wise, but she’d done more than one unwise thing in her life lately, hadn’t she? Whatever had been implied about Gabe’s reputation with the ladies that night at Dusty’s was apparently the truth. Gabe Russell was a rogue all right. He was a sweet-talking, tantalizing, two-timing cowboy who knew how to melt a woman’s bones and break her heart all in the same breath.

  She smacked the wheel, frustrated for once more succumbing to a man’s charm. When would she learn? Hell, were there even any honorable men left on the planet?

  She peeled into her gravel lane and tore up the drive, shredding tufts of grass in her path. Jerking the car door open, she slammed it as she began to walk, head down, not caring where she was going, where she might end up. She’d walk until she was no longer angry, until he was completely out of her system. She halted where she was and looked around, realizing she was hundreds of yards from where the tiny farmhouse stood on the hill. She mused she might walk to Alaska if she wasn’t careful.

  She looked at the house—her house. The place where, during a rainstorm a few days ago she’d given her heart to the man in the black Stetson. Tess kicked a dirt clod with the toe of her shoe and dropped to the ground on her knees.

  Wasn’t it independence that she’d sought? Wasn’t this her chance to start over, own a home, and have a little property with it? There’d been no plans for a man to share that new life. Why should that have to change?

  She stared at the horizon. Fall had taken over the once green trees and lush fields and now those fields, mown and harvested awaited spring planting. She picked up a handful of soil and crumbled it through her fingers. She’d never been a weak person and she wasn’t about to let some country boys’ heart stopping smile cause her to be one now. Standing, she wiped the back of her hands over her face, brushing away the evidence of her tears. Visions of ‘Gone With the Wind’ flashed in her mind. By God if Scarlet could do it then why the hell not her?

  It was a matter of refocusing her priorities that was all. She’d expertly handled other people’s organizational problems for a living, certainly she could figure out her own life.

  Her thoughts came to a screeching halt as she remembered this was Friday. Jack mentioned coming for his visit this weekend. Dammit. She sighed in frustration and took off in a dead run for the house. Maybe she could reach him before he left the office. If there was one thing she did not need right now, it was another male to contend with.

  * * *

  “Betsy? Thank God, you’re there. Can I speak to Jack?” Tess held the phone between her hands, frantic and breathing hard from her run.

  “He’d be flattered to hear you panting over him Tess honey, if he were here.”

  Tess’s heart sank. Please let him be at a meeting.

  “Where is he?” Her voice was weak, her intuition already preparing her for what she was about to hear.

  “Why, hon, he took the entire afternoon off. He said something about going out to buy a pair of jeans, so he wouldn’t feel out of place in the country.”

  She could hear Betsy’s grin over the phone and she wanted to cry, but she firmed her resolve.

  “When did he leave?” Her voice sounded flat even to her.

  “About an hour ago. Tess, Jack sounded a whole lot more excited about seeing
you than what I’m hearing coming from you.”

  “Betsy, I’m not interested in Jack.” Tess raked her fingers through her hair hoping to pull an answer to her dilemma out of thin air. It wasn’t working.

  “Is it because of that tall, cool cowboy, I met?” Her voice turned teasing. The woman was just not getting it, thought Tess.

  “No, Betsy. It is not because of any man.” The words ground through her clenched teeth, and she realized that none of this was her friend’s fault. “I’m sorry. This has been…well, it’s been a rough day.”

  “Well bless your heart. Why don’t you let Jack take you somewhere nice for dinner?” Her voice was soothing and part of Tess wanted to just let go and agree, but she knew the minute she did, Jack Trenton would be moving his things in her house and blissfully commuting daily from there. She needed time to clean up and prepare what she was going to have to say to him.

  “I’ll let you go, Betsy. You have a nice weekend, okay?”

  “You want me to show up unexpectedly?” Betsy offered and Tess nearly took her up on it.

  “No, I need to talk to Jack and find out what’s going on in that analytical mind of his.”

  “Okay, but I’ll be waiting to hear how it goes.”

  No more so than I am. “Okay, bye Betsy.” She replaced the receiver and stared out the front screen door. He’d be there soon, if he left town when Betsy predicted he had.

  She turned and went upstairs to shower, hoping Jack would be so disgusted with shopping for jeans, he’d give up on the idea all together.

  * * *

  Tess took a quick glance around the supper club, hoping no one she knew was there. After the unpleasant surprise of seeing Gabe in the arms of—she wondered if that was the famous Mrs. Crane? If so, she certainly stood no chance with Gabe with the likes of her draped all over him. So what? Did she really want someone who flitted from woman to woman like they were hors d’ oeuvres?

  “Well it’s not the Anvil Club, but it’s not bad I suppose for a little town.” Jack slid in to the chair across from her after he’d held hers.

  If nothing else, he was a gentleman, so far. She felt a little guilty for her thoughts. Jack had never given her reason to believe otherwise.

  He tugged on what she decided was a new sweater probably bought for just this special little country trip. She’d never seen Jack in anything but a suit since she’d known him. The closest to casual was a quick glimpse of him in shorts and a T-shirt, as he ducked into the office after a noon racquetball session.

  “It’s amazing how places like this survive in these little wide spots in the road.” Jack reached across the table and gently touched her forearm. “You feeling okay?”

  “I guess I’d forgotten you were coming this weekend, I wasn’t quite prepared.” She pulled her arm away and slid her hands into her lap.

  He tipped his head, letting his hand rest on the table. He fiddled then with his napkin giving her a questioning look. “Does that mean you’re disappointed I’m here?” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his tweed fatigue sweater.

  Tess glanced up, realizing how handsome her boss really was. He was, she knew, the whole package in the eyes of scores of women. Young, smart, successful, shrewd, and gorgeous. “No Jack, that’s not what I—”

  “Did I interrupt other plans?” His gaze narrowed as his smile faded.

  Tess added possessive to her list of Jack’s attributes. “No Jack.”

  “Well, good.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes dancing in the candle’s glow. “Let’s enjoy the evening then. Tell me what you’ve managed to do with the house?” He signaled the waiter.

  She decided, given her present state of confusion, that perhaps the best thing to do was to relax and appreciate a nice dinner. “I’ve managed to do a little repainting. It’s going to take time, but it’s been fun.” She avoided saying it had also served as good therapy to work on something that she could call her own, nor did she think mentioning the fact that she’d hired help, specifically male help, to aid her was a good idea. Better to keep the focus on business and less on her personal life. He had the tendency to want to take care of everything for her, regardless of her opinion.

  She experienced a twinge of guilt knotting in her stomach thinking poorly of Jack in that way after he’d been so thoughtful in arranging for her home. But for what gain? She knew Jack rarely did anything that would not ultimately bring benefit to Jack.

  “Tell me how everyone is doing? How’s Betsy? How’s Evelyn, the new receptionist?” She raised her water glass to her lips and peered over the rim, seeing Jack’s frown.

  “Do we have to discuss work? Besides, don’t you talk to Betsy every day anyway?” He scanned the wine list in his hand, glanced at her, then pointed out his choice to the waiter.

  Tess waited until they were alone. “Not every day.” She shifted in her chair, concerned that her phone calls on company time had served to get Betsy in trouble. Concentrating on positioning her fork and knife, she did not look up.

  “Don’t worry, it’s fine with me, really.”

  She looked up, seeing a mischievous glint in his eye.

  “Besides, it’s about the only way I hear what’s going on in your life, since you refuse to call me yourself.” He gave her a wry smile.

  It took everything she had in her to stay attached to the seat. Inside, she wanted to run from the restaurant, back to the solitude of her little home. An image of long vine-like tendrils emerging from Jack’s hands popped into her head. Little by little, they encircled her ankles, then her legs, wrapping around her until she couldn’t breath.

  She held her hand to her throat as she stared at him. “Jack, I’ve been awfully busy getting settled, renovating, budgeting—”

  “Are you having financial trouble?” He sat straight, his body alert, his brows pressed together.

  In a moment, she knew he’d be reaching for his checkbook. “No, really, I’m fine.” She glanced at the wine the waiter had poured earlier. “There’s nothing wrong with budgeting.”

  “Nope.” He lifted his glass and she wondered if he was pondering something. He was. “No time for a social life, either I suppose?” He took a sip, raising a brow as he glanced her way. Betsy had obviously elaborated on her visit. Tess wondered how much and what interpretation Jack was given.

  “No social life at all in fact, unless friends come to visit.” She thrust her chin up in defiance.

  “Well then, at least I must qualify as a friend.” He glanced away, then grinned as he returned his gaze to hers.

  “Jack.” She pressed two fingers to her forehead and stared at her plate.

  “I’d just like for you to relax and see where this goes, Tess. I’m sure, by now, you can see that I’m attracted to you.” He lifted his glass, staring at it as if studying the burgundy color of the liquid inside.

  “Jack, please—”

  “Let’s order, have a pleasant evening, and see what happens? Maybe you’ll find me irresistible. Others haven’t been able to resist my charms, you know.” He took a sip of wine, gave her a wink, and grinned.

  She wanted to go home—preferably alone.

  Yet it was nine o’clock on a Friday evening and Jack had driven a long way. While that only produced mixed feelings somewhere between guilt and claustrophobia, she decided that the alternative was to be home pining away about her brief, but purely physical brush with a handsome cowboy whose reputation, it looked, as though he enjoyed.

  Why shouldn’t she enjoy a pleasant meal and be treated by a gentleman to a nice evening? An hour at best, and Jack would be back on the road to Davenport. She could handle that. All she had to do is get Jack talking about himself.

  “So, I’d like to hear about the quarterly report and Jack, tell me where did you get these clothes?” She lifted her glass, nodding a silent toast, then took a deep swallow.

  Nearly three hours later, after lengthy dissertations on casual clothes and buying
marketing ploys, it was close to eleven PM before they finally received their bill.

  Jack grinned as he slipped the credit card on the waiter’s tray. “Things certainly move at their own pace around here, don’t they?”

  She leaned her elbow to the table, resting her cheek to her hand. “I had no idea they still served in courses. You’ll be okay driving back this late, won’t you? They have coffee at the gas station—”

  His dubious expression cut her off.

  “You don’t expect me to drive back at this hour, do you? I hardly got to see the house or what you’ve done with it.” He stood quickly, pushing in his chair, and made a point of holding hers as she stood. Her legs trembled slightly, confirming the icy cold sensation erupting in the pit of her stomach. Surely, he didn’t expect more?

  “Oh, you’ve made reservations somewhere?” Her hope was waning, but she turned to him just the same plastering on an over bright smile. His face was within inches of hers.

  “Tess, you know how picky I am about strange motel rooms. Can you imagine me in a sleazy small-town motel?” He placed his hand to the small of her back and guided her to the door. “You’ve more than enough room don’t you?”

  The suggestive tone in his voice stopped her in her tracks.

  “I have one functioning bed.”

  “That’s all I need.” His grin was sly.

  “Jack? What are you implying?”

  He stepped back holding his hands in front of him in defense. “Not a thing and if you’d rather I take the couch, I’d be happy to trade.”

  Trade?

  Someone who could be so outlandish and so completely full of himself couldn’t possibly create much harm. She cast her gaze to the ceiling, not believing the words she heard issue from her own mouth. “Fine. You can stay, but first thing in the morning, you are out of here, Jack. I have a million things to do before I return to work.”

  He slid his arm across her shoulders, as though he thought it belonged there as he opened the door for her.

  “Oh and Jack?” She turned, giving him a sweet smile, “you have the couch.”