The wheels of the car crunched on the gravel as Paul gassed it, and soon the barns were out of sight. Alexandria sat quietly, willing herself to focus on what she was going to say to Paul rather than on the fact that she was leaving what felt like home.
“I have a ream of papers for you to sign and there are some decisions I’ve made that I want to check out with you,” Paul said as he urged the car on through the gentle curves of the golden, rolling hills. “There is a small glitch in that deal with Creative Labs, but I have talked to people who owe us favors and I think it will be no problem. Did you know that the CEO at Branson Limited committed suicide?” He hardly waited for an answer before he went on. “Poor schmuck got caught with his hand in the till and couldn’t handle it. Branson will be vulnerable, and I thought we should look into it. Are you listening, Alexandria? I said Branson looks good.”
She hadn’t really been listening at all, but she turned and stared at him. “I heard every word. Branson looks good and you have Creative Labs under control.” She twisted in her seat to face him. “Paul. I need to talk to you about—”
“Oh yes,” he interrupted, “another tidbit you’ll be glad to hear. Hesperia told me the other day that she heard stock is about to fall—”
“Paul. I said I wanted to talk. Now be quiet and listen. I don’t know exactly what you said to Jackson, but I want you to back off. I—”
“You what, Alexandria?” he said more testily than usual. “You’re getting in over your head.”
“No,” she sighed. “I’m not. The only problem I’m experiencing is your arrogant presumption that you can snap your fingers and I’ll be there.”
“Arrogant? Me?” He stiffened in his seat and pushed the pedal to the floor. “We are engaged, Alexandria. You have been living with this man for almost three weeks now and I’m not supposed to be resentful?”
“I don’t want to argue with you over semantics.”
“Semantics! Just which word isn’t clear?” He raced down the road into the bedroom community of Rancho Murieta where he slowed and turned off the main road, heading for the airport. He ground the gears as he slowed near the runway where the smallest APM jet waited.
Alexandria closed her eyes and held her breath for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts, planning the appropriate coolness in her voice. “I am not living with anyone in the sense you imply, and you know that. As far as being engaged goes…” She tilted her head back as he stopped, then slowly lowered her face as if she were taking aim at him. “That is a condition that needs to be resolved.”
The color drained ever so slightly from his face as he turned off the motor. “All right. I agree we need to talk. But let’s do it in the comfort of the plane. I called ahead and made reservations at that wonderful little bed and breakfast in Carmel that you adore so, and a gourmet lunch is waiting on the plane.”
Alexandria crossed her arms over her chest and remained silent.
“Please. You know how I detest fighting with you. After nearly eleven years of working together, we’ve ironed out every problem we’ve ever had. Come,” he held out his hand to her, “relax with me for a day.” He glanced at her from head to toe. “You really need a trip to the spa. Your arms and legs look like they belong to different people, and the sun is so bad for your skin.”
She drew a deep breath and sighed again. She was losing it, all right. The cutting edge, the instinctive will to tear an opponent apart was becoming veiled by a ridiculous sense of fairness. It should have been disgusting to her, but at the moment, the only disgusting part of her situation was that she took his hand and nodded. Working with him would be murder if she didn’t find a way to let him down easily.
The next thing she knew, deliciously soft Italian leather seats enveloped her and the ring of fine crystal floated as Paul toasted their success. The wine was positively wonderful. The feeling of power was once again overwhelming. Paul was like a child in his delight.
“Try this pâté. It’s positively wonderful.”
The engines roared as they left the runway headed for Monterey, the closest airport to the quaint little areas surrounding Pacific Grove and Carmel, the places she used to love above all else.
“Paul.” She set the crystal wine glass down. “About this engagement thing. Originally, we…”
He covered her hand on the armrest, sat back, and looked at her in earnest. He lifted his glass high again. “To you, Alexandria. You’re more woman than I ever realized.” He drank heavily, then returned the glass to his lap, running a finger around the lip. “Originally, we got engaged pretty much for business purposes, but I know things have changed.”
Alexandria dropped her gaze to her own lap. “Yes. Something has changed, Paul. I don’t know when, but it has.”
Suddenly he was on his knees before her, grinning, gushing. “Then marry me, Alexandria. Marry me right now. This engagement has gone on long enough.”
She stared into his handsome, eager face and pushed him away. His proposal was both comic and tragic. “No, no. This is not where I thought this conversation was going.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be engaged any longer, Paul. I—”
“But we work so well together.” His expression was incredulous. “We’re a team. We understand each other.”
She leaned forward and looked directly into his eyes. “We will still be a team, Paul; nothing will change except that you and I will be free, personally.”
The pained look on his face as he sat back in the chair appeared to be very real, but she wondered. He was as tough as she ever was, and she knew that, given the right circumstances, she too could have presented a suitably wounded look. However, he had been there for her for over ten years, and he had been an undeniable force in her life. She also knew for certain that she didn’t love him.
“I must not be understanding you.”
“I think you understand, but you’re not comprehending, Paul. The engagement is over.” Even as she told him they would still be a team, the thought echoed in her mind that that couldn’t be the same either.
He ran his hand over his forehead and down the side of his face, curtaining her view of his features. Like a mime, his expression changed. “Of course.” The arrogance had returned. “I understand completely. And you’re right. I apologize.” He seemed to breathe more slowly and more calmly. “I’ll call ahead and reserve a second room while you look over those papers I mentioned earlier. Be sure to check the Creative Lab ones carefully.” He stood and took several file folders from a briefcase. As he handed them to her, she swore he was going to say something, but he remained silent. He walked to the far end of the cabin, and as Alexandria perused the tedious business agreements, she heard his muted voice on the phone.
After several minutes he returned and began as if nothing had ever been spoken about their personal relationship. “I hope you’re making progress with Covington. We’ve sunk a substantial amount of time and money into COMJET, and we are at the point of no return, so to speak. We need him.”
She continued to read. “I told you, we have fallen into a remarkably good place. He is a mentor to Jackson, and we never could have gotten this close even if we had planned it out.”
“We’re running out of time.”
She looked up. “The climax and test of my month of training is going to be some show down south—Temecula, I believe. I’m going to prove my worth; Jackson is showing, as is Covington. I’ll close the deal there.”
The silence between them was ominous. Neither read the other as well as before and neither trusted the other. Things had changed.
Alexandria threw open the double doors that led to a small private balcony. The ocean air rippled her long, flowing silk peignoir around her legs; it was refreshing after the heat and dryness of the interior valley. Paul had insisted she shop for everything she’d need for her escape, and although the silk felt heavenly, shopping in the cute little boutiques wasn’t as much fun as it could have been.
Alexandria ha
d loved Carmel, even as a child. It was small, relaxed, and intimate compared to the highly impersonal setting of Los Angeles. Her father had always brought her here for her birthday. It was the one time a year he had made an effort to give face-to-face time to her. Little as it was, it was enough. Her father had been her hero, and his death had left a hole in her life that she filled by following in his footsteps. Her business career had been going well before, but after he was gone, Alexandria threw herself body and soul into the same things he loved.
Paul had been hired by her father, and it was no secret that no matter how well she did, her father had preferred a male heir. The logical corporate union between her and Paul was the last big celebration her father had been part of.
Carmel brought back years of memories, but those memories were not as comfortable as the little mobile home on the knoll.
Watching the waves pound the rocks, she pondered her next steps. Until Jackson Morgan, her life had been perfectly ordered and under control, with no doubts that she was doing what she wanted. Suddenly her once-solid goals were like a gossamer jellyfish caught in the surf, floating at the will of the tide, right side up, upside down, spinning, lost.
Somewhere a sea gull squawked. The sound of crashing surf surrounded her. She swore it whispered Jackson’s name, but knew it was her own soul that had been etched with the way he laughed, the gentle way he touched, and the electric feel of his lips on hers.
How could two people meet and merge lives that had nothing in common?
She walked back into her room and sat amid the Laura Ashley flowers and Queen Anne elegance. This bed and breakfast was her favorite, and she had always come pretending she never had to leave. It had been her connection to what family she used to have, and her sanctuary from the bustle of the business rat race. Before, she had looked forward to expensive antiques, private dining, expert service, and peace and quiet. Today, however, even though the magnificent setting sun spread its rays across the beaches and boats dotting the lazy horizon, there was no peace and no quiet.
Noise from traffic nearby, unseen people talking, the clatter of dishes from somewhere below—sounds she never heard before were all around her, and somehow she knew there would be no peace until Jackson was with her. Again, the dilemma. As good as she had always been at getting things her way, how was she going to win the heart of a cowboy who had no interest in her way of life, who thought her kiss was a lie? What was going to happen when Jackson found out the real reason she had to learn to cut?
She knew she’d hurt Paul, that in his own possessive way, he did really care for her, but she also knew that no matter what happened with Jackson, she couldn’t go back. Finishing what she started was a personal passion with her, but at the conclusion of the COMJET deal, she would have to decide what was going to happen to APM. She wouldn’t bail out on Paul in the middle of a project, but it remained to be seen if APM would survive when the loose ends were all tied up.
If she couldn’t win Jackson in her life, then where would she go if there was no APM? She didn’t know how to do or be much else, except, of course, now she could ride a cutting horse. She pumped a short laugh at herself. Who was she kidding? If life ahead didn’t include a certain trainer, then she didn’t really want to cut. Everything had seemed so simple: buy a corporation, convert and rearrange it, sell the new product.
Simple.
Win a man’s heart.
Not so simple.
She stood and looked away from the balcony. Perhaps a good, long soak in a bubble bath would clear her mind. She started for the bathroom when a knock came at the door.
She checked her watch and reassured herself it was too early for Paul to arrive for dinner. When she opened the door it was filled with red roses.
“Miss Payne.” A small voice came from behind the blossoms. “Where would you like me to put these?”
“The dresser will be fine,” Alexandria said, backing away from the moving mass of red.
Alexandria recognized the sweet chambermaid assigned to her room when she stepped out from behind the roses. “Thank you, Mary. They’re beautiful. Can I assume they’re from Mr. Maitland?”
“Yes, madam. He had them delivered after hours especially for you.” She bowed as she pulled the door closed and left.
“Never send one when you can afford a dozen,” she said, smiling as she walked over and smelled the bouquet. There was a profusion of bloom and aroma as she searched for the card.
“A dozen roses for each week you were gone.
Partners never come as good as you.”
As ever, Paul
He really knew how to lay on the guilt, she thought as she tossed the card on the dresser, except that he forgot to sign it with love. Not that she wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black; she was just as adept at manipulation, but lately the pride in using it was not what it had been.
He had forgotten to add love. Call a spade a spade, she thought to herself, agreeing to postpone the rest of her soul-searching until after dinner. Paul would be here soon, and she needed to shower and dress. When they had arrived earlier that afternoon, Paul had accompanied her shopping for suitable evening clothes. He was remarkably flexible that way. She couldn’t imagine Jackson agreeing to shop for women’s clothes, much less enjoying it.
Forty-five minutes later, she and Paul went to dinner at a restaurant that would have frowned on shorts, pants, or even a sundress. Alexandria was as far away from sweaty saddle pads, snotty-nosed cows, and Jackson Morgan as it was physically possible to get.
The sun was setting the next day when Paul dropped Alexandria off at the mobile home on the hill. He didn’t try to kiss her good-bye, he didn’t hold her hand a bit too long, and he didn’t pretend she was still his. He was sweet and gentlemanly, and Alexandria was struck by a wave of guilt followed by a stab of suspicion.
Watching Paul drive away brought no feeling other than relief, but she turned to the door and realized she had to face Jackson. Assuming he was inside since she hadn’t seen him by the barns on her way in, she opened the screen door and entered.
She called his name but got no answer.
The small house was still and that odd mixture of warm and cool air that happens when windows are opened in the evening after a hot day kissed her arms and bare shoulders as she walked to the kitchen bar. He’d left a note. “Riding. Back Soon. Jackson.”
His handwriting was bold, yet boyish. Alexandria ripped the note from the pad and pressed it to her chest. Was it her imagination that she felt his wit and the warmth of his touch in this slip of paper, or was it wishful thinking? She had come looking for the magic key to Covington and had instead found the man who held the key to her heart. She felt as if she had crossed a bridge and that bridge had washed out behind her, the erosion so slow at first that she hadn’t even noticed, but when it collapsed, there was no mistaking it.
Time was running out. In three days they were set to leave for Temecula and in three days she had to figure out how to juggle business, horses, and love. She took the pen next to the notepad by the phone and wrote the only thing she could think of at the moment. “I’m back. See you in the morning.” The lovesick child in her wanted to sign it with her love or with Xs and Os, but the woman, wary of rejection, knew better.
“Are you going to sleep all day?”
Alexandria blinked and tried to sit up. The rising sun flashed brilliantly through the window, nearly blinding her. Jackson stood illuminated by the light in her half-opened door, glaring.
“I must have forgotten to set the alarm,” she said, her voice crackling, still blinking as she rolled out of bed. Leaving the tender, whispering Jackson in her dreams, all she heard in her haste to get up was the gruff taskmaster Jackson. If she had been wider awake, she might have noticed the way his hungry eyes devoured her, then gave up quickly before he was found out.
“Enough vacation. We’ve got a lot to do if we’re going to be ready for Temecula. I brought a new horse in yesterday, and I have to
ride her this morning before I ride the others.” He started to pull the door closed but stopped. He would have liked to say something nice, but he quickly reminded himself theirs was a business deal, nothing more.
“Toast and cold cereal are about all you have time for. I’ll see you at the barn.” He closed her door behind him and leaned against it. Alex tied his tongue and jumbled his mind and frustrated his soul and heated his body. He pushed off and headed for the barn, determined to find balance between her and what was left of his sanity.
Alexandria hurried, knowing Jackson would be waiting for her. He never asked about Paul, but she was sure Jackson assumed the worst. She jogged toward the barn, more intent upon catching up on lost time than worrying, only to find he was already saddled and warming up.
“Sorry I’m late,” she called out as she went to get the lazy roan mare.
“Not my problem if you want to waste the best hours to ride sleeping.” He dropped the gelding he rode into a smooth, flat lope and was quickly out of hearing distance.
Alexandria knew she’d been chastised again and also knew from the tone of his voice that she could look forward to a rigorous practice session. Hurrying to saddle up, she set the tone of her workout. Instead of allowing the mare to walk to the arena, she spurred her into a short, rough trot and hurried through the gate. As she latched it, she looked over to Jackson, whose sour expression was not comforting.
“Take your time. You’re pushing that mare like she was the one who was late.”
“You’re right, sorry.” Alexandria mounted and walked down the rail to the left, away from Jackson. She thought she had taken her time when she began to trot, but his coarse voice cut the silence.
“I want to see that horse relax more at the walk. If you push it now, you’ll buzz her up and have to ride a long time to calm her. The harder you use your reins, the higher her head gets, and then she can’t smooth out and be supple.”
Hot Quit Page 9