by Heidi Betts
Why? Why would she leave when things had been going so well between them? His mind couldn’t even begin to wrap itself around the concept.
Where could she have gone? To another hotel? The airport? Back to Georgetown? He wasn’t even sure how to find out.
And then he had to wonder if he wanted to. She’d taken off just when he thought they were closer than ever, which meant his radar was seriously skewed.
What if he located her, only to have her tell him she never wanted to see him again?
A hard fist squeezed around his heart at the very thought.
He wasn’t sure he could handle not having Lucy in his life. Holding her at arm’s length, sure. Fantasizing about her but not being able touch her, or being allowed to make love to her and then having to stop…well, it wouldn’t be fun, but he could deal with it.
But not having her around, not seeing her on a daily basis, not hearing her sexy, throaty voice and watching the sway of her hips as she walked down the hall…
No. He refused to contemplate such a thing.
Lucy’s mindset was a mystery to him. He couldn’t possibly know what she was thinking or what had driven her to leave him this way, but he could certainly find out and take steps to rectify the situation.
If that meant promising to put their relationship back on a strictly professional keel, so be it. It might turn him into a hollow shell of a man or send him into the arms of a dozen faceless women for some semblance of meaningless intimacy, but if it kept Lucy around and feeling secure, then he would do it. Happily, regardless of his own personal suffering.
Taking a deep breath, he got to his feet, then blew the air out through his nose. Fine. She’d sneaked out five minutes after making love with him, so it was obvious she wanted to be alone. He’d let her. He’d finish up his business here in New York with William Dawson, which should only take another day or so, then he’d head back to Georgetown and see how Lucy acted toward him. Try to feel her out about how she wanted their relationship to progress from there.
That would give them both a little time to cool down and think things over. Then maybe they could decide together what to do. Lord knew he’d bungled the situation enough on his own.
The wheels of Lucy’s suitcase rolled over the toe of her shoe as she came to a stop in front of her apartment door and she swore in pain. She was tired and stiff from the sudden trip home, and on the way to being depressed about her decision to leave Peter alone at the hotel.
But it was for the best…or so she kept telling herself.
Fishing the keys out of her purse, she unlocked the door and let herself in, careful to guard the entrance in case Cocoa got it into her head to slip out. The last thing she needed was to spend the night searching the corridors of the building for her runaway cat.
She flipped on the kitchen light and was surprised to find Cocoa nowhere in sight. Usually the kitty met her at the door and couldn’t wait to be scratched behind the ears or given a quick snack.
Lord, she hoped Ethan hadn’t dropped the ball and let her cat either escape or starve to death.
But Cocoa’s food dish sat in the middle of the table, looking freshly licked clean. And the water bowl in the corner was full.
With a frown, she started tiptoeing through the apartment, looking for signs of life. And as she rounded the corner into the living area, she had to bite down on a chuckle to keep from waking both the man and feline asleep on her couch.
Cocoa lay perched on Ethan’s gently rising and falling chest while Ethan’s hand rested over the calico’s mottled back. An infomercial playing on the television in the background, casting blue and yellow shadows over the two forms.
Sensing her presence, Ethan slowly came awake, blinking to bring her into focus. “Hey,” he almost croaked. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“Obviously.” She grinned and moved closer to give Cocoa a pat.
“Where’s Peter?” he asked, glancing around as though he expected his friend to suddenly appear behind Lucy.
At the mention of Peter’s name, her lips thinned. “He’s still in New York,” she told him, averting her gaze and taking several steps away.
Ethan sat up, careful not to jar the sleeping cat unnecessarily. Unperturbed, Cocoa jumped from Ethan’s stomach to the couch cushion, then stopped to yawn and stretch before curling up and going back to her nap.
Getting to his feet, Ethan brushed the stray fur from his shirt front before turning his attention back to her. “Did something happen between the two of you?”
She lifted her head, meeting his eyes once again. His insight stunned her, but then, he was Peter’s best friend, so maybe she shouldn’t be surprised by how well they knew each other.
“You could say that.”
He stuck a thumb into the waistband of his jeans, cocking his hip to the side. “Was it good or bad?”
“First it was good,” she said, remembering their lovemaking as not just “good” but spectacular. “And then it was bad.”
“I take it Peter did or said something to upset you.”
Lucy sighed, rubbing the spot between her brows where a headache was forming. “Actually, he didn’t. I just…”
Her throat closed with emotion and she turned away to get hold of herself. Crossing the kitchen, she pulled a container of orange juice from the fridge and poured a glass. She offered to do the same for Ethan, but he shook his head.
“I love him,” she admitted, the words going down better with a sip of juice.
A beat of silence passed and then he said simply, “I know.”
She glanced up at him, standing on the other side of the kitchen table, jaw slack in astonishment.
“Come on, Lucy, I’ve seen the two of you together. I didn’t notice anything at first, but lately… Lately, it’s become more obvious,” he finished.
A flush of heat crept over her features as she realized she hadn’t hidden her feelings for Peter all this time as well as she’d thought.
“Don’t worry,” he told her, practically reading her mind. “I don’t think anyone else has noticed, least of all Peter the Oblivious.”
Wetting her lips, she turned and made a production of putting her empty glass in the sink and returning the orange juice to the refrigerator. “So the fact that he feels nothing for me is also…obvious.”
“I don’t know about that.”
Ethan came up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders and giving them a light squeeze.
“Like I said, Peter tends to be oblivious. I think he feels plenty for you, he just won’t admit it, even to himself.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that or where to begin with the questions clamoring in her brain.
“You could still go out with me,” he suggested, blowing in her ear. “I’ve been asking you out for months. So maybe now you’ll cut Peter loose and give me a shot.”
She spun around, spearing him with an annoyed glance. “You would do that? To your best friend?”
“For a pretty woman?” He gave a snort. “Hell, yes.”
“Let me clear this up for you once and for all,” she snapped, physically removing his hands from where they rested on her upper arms. “Not on your life. Not even if you were the last man on earth. Especially if you were the last man on earth because I would never want to take the chance of letting you breed and spread your reprehensible DNA on to another human being.”
Stalking across the tiled kitchen, she put her hand on the doorknob before turning back to him with a scowl on her face. “I think you should leave.”
Ethan held his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, there, take it easy. I was testing you.” He moved back to the table, straddling one of the spindle-back chairs as he held her gaze. “You gave exactly the right answer, by the way. And I may talk tough, but for your information, I wouldn’t move in on a friend’s girl. At least not one he’s genuinely interested in.”
Some of the fire went out of her at his admission and she dragged hersel
f over to take the chair opposite him, feeling even more tired and weary than when she’d arrived.
“You say that like you believe it. I just wish I could.”
“I don’t think Peter does, either. Or he’s afraid to. And going out with me would be one sure way of finding out…either he’d let it go and you’d know for certain he had no feelings for you, or he’d go through the roof and you’d know he does.”
He gave her a hopeful look, which Lucy now recognized as simply teasing.
“There is one other option,” he offered. “Come to work for me at The Hot Spot.”
She raised a brow at the unexpected proposal.
“I know I’ve tried to lure you away from Peter before—only partly in jest, since I’m jealous as hell that he gets such a great assistant and I’m stuck running my business myself. But maybe now is the time to make a change. Get away from him for a while. Give him some time and space to think about what he’s lost and how he really feels about you. You can always go back later; you know I won’t hold you to anything, and Peter would be stupid not to give you your old job back if you wanted it.”
“Do you really think I should?”
“I do. Peter and I have been friends for a lot of years. I know how his mind works and how hard it’s going to be for you to face him while things are still up in the air between you. Consider my club part-time work while you figure things out.”
The minutes ticked by while she considered his offer from every angle. In the end, though, it came down to only a single point: she didn’t think she could bear to see Peter bright and early Monday morning with her heart still raw and bleeding, so soon after leaving him alone in that hotel room.
Taking a deep breath, she looked at Ethan—her new boss, if only for a while—and nodded.
Ten
Well, those had been two of the longest, most excruciating days of his life.
Normally he loved delving into a computer system, finding all its bugs and quirks, and then putting it back together to run even more efficiently. But this time, every moment had felt like an eternity. Every word Will Dawson had uttered, every joke he’d tried to crack to lighten Peter’s mood had grated on his nerves.
He’d done the bare minimum to improve Dawson’s productivity and then promised to return at a later date to smooth out the edges so he could jump on a plane and head back to Georgetown.
It was two in the afternoon by the time he arrived, but that was okay because it meant Lucy would be at his house, working, and he would get the chance to talk things through with her instead of waiting another day to hash out their differences.
When he reached his town house, he used his key to unlock the front door and dropped his overnight bag just inside on the foyer floor. Cocking his head, he listened for the telltale sounds of Lucy’s fingers at the keyboard of her computer or the soft classical music radio station she sometimes turned on while she worked.
He didn’t hear anything, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t there.
A thread of doubt niggled as he closed the door and noticed the pile of mail spread across the carpet. Strange that Lucy hadn’t gathered it up already. She usually did, first thing. But maybe she’d forgotten or gotten busy doing something else.
Yeah, a tiny voice in his head replied sarcastically, forgot to pick up the mail when she’d done it automatically every day for the past two years.
But he wasn’t giving up yet. Moving through the house, he checked the study that doubled as her office and pretended not to notice that her computer was turned off and the call light on the telephone was blinking uncontrollably.
So she hadn’t had a chance to boot up or collect messages yet. That didn’t mean anything. There were plenty of days when she went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee or up to his office to clean up a bit before getting started.
From there, he peeked his head into the den, the kitchen, then climbed the stairs for a quick sweep of his own office and bedroom. Not that he expected to find her in either place.
His heart sank and his mouth grew dry as he realized she wasn’t there. From the mail on the hall floor and the number of calls stored up on the phone, it didn’t look like she’d been to work at all since returning from New York.
The knowledge worried Peter more than a little, but he tried not to panic. She was probably still upset by whatever had driven her to run out on him after they’d made love and just needed a day or two more to get herself together enough to face him.
Or maybe she was waiting for him to contact her and say he was sorry. He was as clueless about what he needed to apologize for as he was about why she’d abandoned him in Manhattan in the first place, but if there was one thing he knew for sure about women, it was that the man was always wrong, the woman was always right, and it was the man’s place to say he was sorry before things got too far out of hand.
That, he could do. Because a part of him was sorry…for whatever had spurred her to take off on him. For not having the self-control to keep from making love to her the first time and the second, when he knew nothing could come of it. And for not being the man she wanted him to be, one who could provide her with the future she so desperately needed.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he ran back downstairs for his luggage, and decided to put the new mail on her desk along the way.
As long as he was there, he might as well check the waiting messages, too. With any luck, Lucy might have called and he would have an idea of what was on her mind. If not, he’d have helped her out a bit and not left quite so much for her to catch up on once she finally returned to work.
He sat down at her desk and grabbed a notepad and pen, then punched the buttons necessary to access voicemail. Business call, business call, phone company calling about Lucy’s request to add another line to the house, business call… He wrote everything down, thinking he could probably take care of a few of these on his own, but would leave the important ones for Lucy.
Then her voice drifted out to him through the speakerphone and a hitch of awareness rolled over him, sending his pulse rate stuttering. She sounded stiff and unhappy, but he chalked that up to the mechanics of the electronic technology.
And then her words began to sink in. She hadn’t phoned to explain why she’d left New York without him or to ask for a couple days off while she got her thoughts and feelings in order. She was blowing him off.
Peter, this is Lucy. I’m just calling to let you know that I’ve accepted another position and won’t be back to work. I’ll be by within the next couple of weeks to collect my things, unless you’d rather send them to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more notice, but my new job begins immediately. I’m sure you’ll find someone to take my place in no time.
He sat, stunned, for several long minutes while the rest of the messages played through unheard. Her words echoed over and over again in his ears, making him feel light-headed and more confused than ever.
Why? Why would she take another job? Nothing that had happened between them was so awful that she needed to quit.
And take her place?
How was he ever supposed to find someone to replace her? Someone competent, reliable, and willing enough to do all the things he needed taken care of on a daily basis. It had been miraculous enough to find Lucy to begin with, he couldn’t even begin to be lucky enough to find a second decent assistant.
But was that really the part that was bothering him so much? The fact that he was losing his favorite secretary?
Hell, no. He was on the verge of a breakdown because this was Lucy and she’d just left him. Left his employ, left his house, left him.
He wasn’t going to get the chance to find out why she’d sneaked out while he was off buying condoms. He wouldn’t be able to apologize for whatever had upset her and promise to make things right.
It seemed Lucy wasn’t interested in repairing their relationship—not even their professional one.
The hollow sensation at the base of his gut began to f
ill…but not with acceptance, with anger.
She didn’t want anything more to do with him? Fine. He didn’t want anything more to do with her, either.
His feelings for her had been nothing more than lust, anyway. And maybe a fraction of dependence, for the way she took such good care of everything for him.
But all that was over now. She’d quit, taken another job. From now on, she wouldn’t be around for him to fantasize about or desire or rely on.
A part of him wanted to mourn that fact, but then the logical side of his brain kicked in and reminded him that this was probably all for the best. Just because they’d spent a few very memorable moments in each other’s company didn’t mean they had a future together. He’d known that all along and had never wanted Lucy to be hurt. So maybe having her leave now was better than having to push her away later.
It sounded good, and in a few days, Peter thought he might even start to believe it.
“Set ’em up again.”
“Are you sure?” Ethan asked. “You’ve already had quite a bit.”
Peter scowled at his so-called friend and tapped the bar in front of him where three empty shot glasses and three empty beer bottles sat. “Don’t lecture me on the evils of alcohol, just keep them coming.”
Ethan held his tongue, pouring another finger of whiskey with a beer chaser, just as Peter had ordered when he’d first walked into The Hot Spot.
At this time of day, the club was officially closed, but Ethan and some of the other staff came in early to set up and check supplies for the evening crush. A Top Forty ballad played softly in the background, but by eight o’clock tonight, the speakers would be blaring with rock, disco, rap…whatever the party crowd liked best.
The idea of people drinking, dancing, having fun made Peter scowl even harder. He was miserable and the rest of the world should be, too, dammit!
“So…” Ethan ventured while Peter nursed his beer, “are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, or do I have to wait until you drink me out of all my profits?”