He halted with his back to her, but said nothing.
“You have to let me explain.”
He spun, pain and anguish distorting his handsome face. “Explain. Yes,” he growled fiercely, “explain to me why your exfiancé is here and was kissing you this morning. Explain it to me so I can understand how I poured my heart out to you last night and you forgot to tell me that he was back.”
She’d never seen him so angry or so fearful, and his torture ripped through her heart like no other thing in the world could.
“While you’re at it, explain how it slipped your mind that you were here only so you could cheat Everett and lie to me.” He stepped forward and stood inches from her, his animal instincts wild and savage as he glared into her. “I beg your pardon, lying would have been too direct. You just never mentioned it at all.”
As a sail loses wind, so his arms drooped to his sides and there was a look of defeat and betrayal to him that made her want to look away. Steeling herself to her own pain, she waited until he had nothing more to say.
“Jackson. I’ve made some mistakes, but—”
“But what?” he began again. “Are you going to tell me you love me? I guess I was warned right from the beginning, but I went ahead not once, but twice. I even told you I was being honest and you agreed it was the right thing for us…to start over, you said.”
“I do love you.”
“That’s scary, Alex—no, Alexandria. I don’t think I can afford your love. It may cost me my ranch. Or is your boyfriend going to let me keep that? My last fiasco with a woman left me with my dignity, but this one…” His face contorted in disgust.
“Please.” Tears began to fall. “Please let me talk.”
He straightened up and ripped the rein from her hand. “Go ahead. But stop crying. It’s so unlike you.”
She drew several deep breaths to stop the flow of tears, aware he watched every movement. “I admit when I first came here, I did have a purpose. But I never told you otherwise. It wasn’t part of our bargain, just like it wasn’t part of our bargain for me to fall in love with you.” She turned and began to pace in front of him, like a caged animal. “It came so quickly. One minute we were sparring over where I was going to sleep and the next I was wishing you were there with me.” She hesitated, searching his face for some trace of understanding, a glimmer of hope. “I started by keeping my business, including Paul, separate from what was happening with you.” She touched his sleeve and he pulled away. “Then it was suddenly too late for a confession. I realize now what a mistake it was, but beyond that, and more important, I realize what I’ve thrown away.”
“The way Everett tells it, you’ve won. You have everything you wanted.”
She stood before him, blue eyes pleading her case. “No. I’ve lost everything. You are the sunshine in my life. Your laugh is food for my soul, and my heart is yours.”
“Isn’t that a song? Isn’t there anything about you that’s genuine?”
Time stood still as Alexandria clung to reality by a thread. A lifetime of wheeling and dealing left her totally unprepared for this.
He cleared his throat and tried to speak after a long silence between them when all else seemed superfluous. It came as a whisper, and before he spoke, she thought there might be hope.
“Good-bye, Alexandria.”
CHAPTER 9
Alex watched him put away his saddle and walk around the corner of the barn. When he disappeared, something inside her died. There was an emptiness, a hole in her heart and soul that seemed to have no end. She stood silent, dead to the world. Time had no relevance, and if lightning had struck next to her, Alex wouldn’t have known because his good-bye felt like a slab of concrete falling on her.
In her whole life she’d never felt so worthless. When her mother died, there’d been anger and loneliness, but she’d survived. As a young girl, she had even survived her father’s continued absence. Then later, he made it clear that she wasn’t worth his time unless she could steamroll Wall Street the way he’d done. Alexandria hadn’t let it be an obstacle for too long. A slow, smoldering anger at being kept from those she loved most burned inside her until she had developed Alexandria Payne—corporate raider, financial wonder who needed no one. Once the fire began, it was insatiable, and the crowning victory had been when her father had come to her, begging for money to save his crumbling empire.
She’d given it freely, without any emotional strings, but only because it had been a profitable arrangement. Alexandria Payne was at the top of the dog-eat-dog business world, but, after a month of living in dirt, dust, and manure with a simple cowboy, she had slowly come to the realization that she couldn’t have gotten any lower when it came to being human. The lowest she’d ever been was the moment, only seconds ago, that she discovered that Jackson’s good-bye meant more to her than all the money on Wall Street.
“Alexandria?”
Like a distant echo from behind her, she heard her name. Unless it was Jackson who called, she had no wish to answer, but she heard it again.
“My God. What has that brute done to you?”
Like a vague sixth sense, she understood that Paul’s arm circled her shoulder and drew her close, but there was nothing lifelike or warm about it. She felt nothing as he ushered her toward the parking lot, chattering the whole time.
“Say something, Alexandria. Tell me what a fool I am for letting you out of my sight, tell me what a cad he is.” He stopped and took her by the shoulders and shook her. “Say something.”
She forced herself to focus on the perfect, patrician face before her. “I’m so tired. I need to sit.”
“Of course,” Paul said as he unlocked the door to his rented Mercedes and opened it, gesturing to the fine leather seat. “Here. I have Perrier in the back; I’ll get it. Stay here.”
She heard someone laugh halfheartedly and was barely able to believe it had been her. As if she had anywhere to go. Disgusted and hating herself for failing to close the biggest deal of her life, she slumped in the seat.
Paul returned, dropping to his knees as he handed her the bottle. “Sorry I don’t have a straw, but drink it anyway. I’ll look the other way if you like.”
He was genuinely concerned, she thought. She found no joy in that fact, thinking only that she didn’t want or need the straw, the water, or Paul. She drank anyway and began to look around her. Horse trailers, pickup trucks, manure carts—the distant sound of the announcer, nearby horses stomping in their stalls, and the satisfying smell of alfalfa hay and pine shavings. These were things that had become a part of her life with Jackson, and these were things unavailable to her without him. It was no use. She didn’t belong here anymore.
“Please take me home.”
Paul jumped to her request as if he’d been shot. “Oh yes. You can tell me what happened on the way,” he said as he ran to the driver’s side and jumped in. The glaring look she sent set him back momentarily. “Or you can keep the sordid story to yourself, my dear.”
“You didn’t close my door,” she said, struggling to save what was left of her pride, ordering herself to be Alexandria who demanded more than most were willing to give—not Alex who enjoyed a simple sunset, who liked the taste of powdered lemonade, and who loved Jackson with every ounce of her being. Paul jumped again, shut her door, and returned to his seat while she primped, smoothing her disheveled hair as she looked in the visor mirror, just as she would have done a month ago. “I’ll send for my things.”
Paul smiled and nodded. “I’ll have you home in an hour, and I’ll call ahead and instruct Hesperia to—”
“I just want to be alone.”
Alexandria knew how flat and expressionless her voice was, but didn’t know how to change it. At this point, her world was flat and expressionless. She needed to figure out where to go from here.
An hour later, Paul’s Mercedes slowed and stopped at the palatial brass and copper entry of her luxury apartment. She instructed him to drop her at the door, then leave her alone.
At the entrance the doorman stopped her.
“Are you…visiting…someone here?”
She looked up, straightened herself, and tossed an appropriately insulted look his way.
“Miss Payne,” he said quickly as he offered to help her with the huge door. “I’m so sorry. You’re not dressed, that is, I’ve never seen you—”
“Don’t worry, Howard.” She strutted inside. “I realize I look a sight. You’ll have to let me in since I don’t have my purse.”
“Right away, madam.” He dug in his pocket. “In fact, you take the key and I can get it when you come down next.”
She took it, went to the elevator, and within minutes she was inside what used to be home. She closed the door and lay back against it, casually observing the pristine white living room that spread before her to the left. It was beautiful, in an Architectural Digest kind of way, but it wasn’t warm and inviting like that modest mobile home had been. She tossed the key on the entry table, but the feeling that she didn’t belong here kept her back. Somewhere beyond the black-out shades that stretched across the broad living room wall, the sun was setting. Somewhere outside the triple-pane windows, birds sang and creeks gurgled. Jackson lived in a place where birds sang for him and where the sun warmed him. She missed him already.
Salty tears blurred Alexandria’s vision and dribbled down the mahogany door to the floor, splashing on the polished parquet like raindrops forgotten on the barren desert. She lay down, lacking the will or the energy to remain upright, wishing there was a way to either end it all or to begin all over again.
For hours she lay on the cold, hard wood, remembering fleeting moments of happiness that seemed like jewels stolen from a treasure chest. The way his lips felt upon hers. His smile when he was proud of her. The instant she first saw him. Even then, she’d been struck by his power, by his gentleness, by his love of life.
Small bits and pieces were all she knew about him, all he’d given to her, and wouldn’t have been enough to fall in love with another man, but this man had fit her like a single seed fits in the smallest fissure of a giant rock, then grows to be a tree, bold and upright. His quiet strength, his soft growl, his dry humor were all a part of the magic that entwined her to him just like the honeysuckle by the creek tangled around the grandfather oak and softened its rigid lines. He was the oak and she the tangled vine. She rolled to her back, wiped at her tears, and closed her eyes to draw upon more images of them together. It eased the pain to remember.
Only now did she understand how happy she’d been then, and perhaps that was what was going to save her. The fact that she’d found happiness and contentment, be it only one second out of a whole lifetime, was miraculous, something many people never experienced. Maybe she’d been so greedy for the largest part of her life that this was her punishment. To want more desperately, urgently—and to be denied. The ultimate denial. Prohibition of the heart and soul. The knowledge that it was and now is no longer.
A week had gone by since Alexandria had come face-to-face with the reality that she’d lost Jackson. Like an artist who swabs paint over a mistake, she let the trappings of her former life encase her feelings. As far as anyone knew, she’d returned as planned, triumphant as usual, but the wound to her soul festered beneath and was clearly visible in her eyes had anyone taken the time to see it.
Paul had been every inch a gentleman, having never mentioned Jackson, Covington, or even COMJET. There were brief moments that hit like déjà vu when Alexandria teetered on the edge of reality, wondering if that month had been a beautiful dream. Then the memory of Jackson’s fiery embrace burned through any notion that he was only a dream. Once Jackson entered her mind, the only thing that could drive him out was forced hours of strict attention to detail, hours of dealing with figures, people, and new plans of attack.
Her desk was cluttered with proposals, messages to be returned, and synopses of failed or faltering businesses. Alexandria was intent upon a central stack of papers whose figures she read off to the anonymous person on the other end of the phone conversation.
“No. You don’t have that kind of clout with the bank balance that I see here.” She leaned back, flipped the financial statement shut, and tossed her pen on top. “Why don’t you take a second look at what you’ve sent me and then call me back. I think I can help, but not without a little more…honesty on your part. We have to be talking apples to apples here.” There was a moment of silence, then she replied as there was a gentle knock on her door. “Fine. I’ll expect to hear from you early next week.”
“Yes?” she said as she hung up and began writing.
“This just came by messenger,” Paul said as he walked in, Armani clad and as smug as if he held the winning Lotto ticket. He sat smiling on the corner of her desk.
“Don’t play games,” she said, still looking down. “What is it?”
Paul tapped the large manila envelope in his lap, but said nothing. Finally he tossed it on her desk.
“What—” She stopped as soon as she saw the return address. Her eyes flitted to him and then back to the envelope. She reached for it. “You opened it.”
“Yes. I didn’t think you’d mind. After all, we’re—”
“Of course,” she interrupted, her breath already sticking in her throat and her heart beginning to beat faster. “What does Everett—Covington want?”
“It’s the contract for Rawlins. Signed, sealed, and ready to record.”
She stood up, crossed her arms, and walked to the huge window that overlooked the smoggy Los Angeles skyline. “Send it back.”
“What!”
She spun and faced him, like a tigress on the prowl. “You heard me, send it back. I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“COMJET won’t go without it, especially at this late date.”
“Then it won’t go. I don’t want anything to do with Rawlins or Covington and that’s final.”
Paul stood and faced her as he ran his hands in the pockets of his tailored pants. He rocked back and forth gently, and by the twisted look of his handsome face, it was obvious he was scheming. “Final.” He paced in front of her, for effect, not from nervousness. “We have spent thousands of dollars, and now you have victory within your grasp and you won’t take it.”
A flood of emotions crept through Alexandria’s mind, and instead of answering his challenge with a bold, sweeping statement, all she could manage was weak and soft. “That’s right. I know you think I’ve lost my competitive edge, but I need you to understand why I can’t do it.”
His pacing began to be more determined, more furious as he spoke. He fixed his glare on the floor ahead of him and spoke through gritted teeth. “I understand more than you think. You have run off looking for God knows what in the arms of a ragamuffin country lout. You had nothing in common with him and there was no way in the world it ever could have worked out.”
“That’s not so,” she rebutted without conviction.
“Get real, Alexandria. You are a Vassar graduate, you have countless business awards and degrees, like it or not, you were raised with a silver spoon in each hand, and you think you could have taken a common laborer in and made it work?”
He stopped. His glare was punishing. “Admit it, you’ve been a fool who thought a weekend lark, a summer romance”—he waved his arms while his cold blue eyes narrowed to their target—“an overnight stand, if you will, was going to last. The truth is, you’ve fallen for this cowboy and now he’s thrown you out.” Silence punctuated his words.
“You owe him nothing. You owe me a lot.” He leaned across her desk toward her. “Alexandria, pay up.”
Jackson had struggled just to make it through the rest of the classes at Temecula. Everett was by his side and prodded and cajoled, but Jackson was cold and silent. He’d trusted the woman with his heart, and she’d used and betrayed him without a second thought.
The long drive home had been tedious and exhausting, and he was acutely aware that she was no longer sittin
g next to him, no longer laughing with him, no longer smiling that sly, crooked little grin when she knew he was right, no longer pretending to be his.
Tired, worn, and disgusted with life, Jackson dragged himself from the barn after he’d put up all the horses, unloaded the trailer, and cleaned the tack. It was late; a sliver of moon produced only enough light to cast an eerie gleam on the mobile home that was dark and lifeless. He knew he’d stalled as long as possible. The wooden porch creaked as he stepped up. He hesitated before he opened the screen, then opened the door and tossed his duffel bag on the floor and stopped.
As soon as he drew a breath, he smelled her, and for an instant, he wondered if she was in the bedroom. Then reality hit. Will—like a fairy tale white knight—had banished her from his kingdom, chased the evil witch away, and now he was alone with only his honor, his good name, and his thoughts to keep him company. He’d been a chivalrous fool to think the slick, high-maintenance city woman really cared. But of course he was wiser now, and like Merlin, he wanted to make every trace of her disappear.
He strolled through the darkness to the kitchen bar. The jealous green eye of the answering machine blinked over and over. For a moment he hoped it was her, pleading with him to take her back and admitting how devious she’d been, but as he slowly reached for the button, he thought twice. A lot of good it did to erase her from his mind when he allowed her to return so easily. He drew his hand back and turned to the refrigerator. The light blinded him briefly as he opened the door, but he thrust his hand inside, knowing exactly where the lemonade was.
He took a long drink from the pitcher because he knew she would have made him use a glass. He gulped, the cold tart taste soothing the burn in his gut. Bringing the pitcher down as the refrigerator door slid shut, he saw again the green reflection from the answering machine. He’d never run from a thing in his life, and he wasn’t going to start now. He set the pitcher down as if to mark his spot and very deliberately punched the button.
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