A tear splattered on the dusty table. All this time she’d chased the past and for what? No matter how much money she poured into this property, no matter how perfect the restoration, her mother wasn’t coming back.
It was time to say good-bye.
The deed was in her briefcase. With deliberate precision, she tore the paper in half, stuffed the scraps in an envelope and scrawled Daniel’s address across the front. No note, no signature. A clean, unsentimental break. The kind of good-bye Daniel would appreciate.
…
Esther mocked him incessantly. Propped against the wall in his office, the smile that seemed so warm in the antique shop now looked condescending, her face no longer friendly but judgmental. Her eyes followed him everywhere, even in sleep. Scornful green cat eyes burning holes in him until he gave up on slumber and spent the night staring at the black, starless sky. He’d even taken to the fine Ferncliff tradition of numbing himself with alcohol, and she still refused to leave him alone. Over and over, her reproach echoed in his brain. You’re a fool. You’re a fool.
“Shut up!” he snapped at her. “No wonder you were being sold for the frame.”
Why couldn’t he shake off Charlotte and move on as he did with everyone else? Even now his body hardened thinking of the taste of her mouth. Kissing her was just about the headiest experience he’d ever had, worth more than a dozen sexual encounters. And those eyes, those incredible green eyes that made him feel like he was the most important—hell, the only—man in the world.
You’re a fool.
“Absolutely, Esther, and therein lies the problem.” He wished he’d never seen that asinine file. What he wouldn’t give to still be clueless and lying next to Charlotte. There was something to be said about naïveté. At least then he could be happy.
You could again if you believed her story.
“Don’t you think I tried?” he snapped. He’d spent the better part of the week going round and round in his head, trying to convince himself that the stupid file really was the work of an overprotective friend. Every time he came close, he thought of the women whose pictures were in that file—beautiful, shallow women who all had some kind of agenda—and he’d find himself doubting again.
“Dammit, Esther. Why can’t I hate her?” Life would be so much easier if he did. “Why can’t I stop thinking about her?”
Because you’re a fool, Esther said. She was, he was quickly discovering, a one-trick taunter.
“You’re one to talk, you know. You let your lover crash and burn in a French field.”
At least I had a lover. What do you have?
Nothing. A billion dollars and a dysfunctional family he no longer wanted. He’d been lonely for so long, he couldn’t remember what not being lonely felt like.
Yes, he could. He felt it the moment Charlotte pressed a saltine in his hand at ten thousand feet, and again when he took her in his arms that Saturday night. The moment Charlotte walked through his office door, he stopped feeling alone.
He really was a fool, he thought, tossing back his drink. For so long he’d told himself that if he kept control of his emotions, he’d never get hurt. What happened? He got hurt anyway. All the control in the world hadn’t kept Charlotte out. She not only saw through his defenses, she blasted her way past them to take hold of his soul.
On the plane, she’d told him that love was the one thing no man could control. Damned if she wasn’t right. Because if he were truly honest with himself, he’d admit he loved her.
“The question is,” he asked Esther, “how can I trust she feels the same?”
His office door opened and Doug’s head poked through. “I heard voices. Am I interrupting, sir? I didn’t notice the phone line light up.”
“Just hung up.” Wouldn’t that be icing on the cake, to have his staff know he was spending his time chatting with a painting. “What’s up?”
“A courier delivered a rather strange package. A plain envelope with no return address. I thought you should know.”
“If you’re concerned, notify security.”
“I did. They’ve already examined the contents.”
“And?” Daniel sat back awaiting the answer. They’d received threatening packages before. He didn’t see why this particular envelope would be of any greater interest than the others. “Should we call the authorities? Was it a death threat or a mail bomb or something like that?”
“The deed to the Craymore property. Torn in half.”
“Was there a note?” Daniel’s pulse quickened.
“No, just the deed torn in half. Didn’t we send that paperwork to Professor Doherty a couple days ago? Why would she send it back?”
Why indeed? Daniel’s mind raced as fast as his heart. He glanced at Esther, who smiled back with a small, confident smile.
Thank you, he mouthed. Thank you.
Chapter Fourteen
“I was thinking we could head over to Maria’s for a couple of margaritas before dinner. They still have the terrace open for happy hour. If you want we can eat outside. Lord knows, the sea breeze would feel terrific right about now.”
Judy chatted on as she and Charlotte walked down the corridor of the history building. The calendar may have read September, but the air felt as oppressive as July. At least Charlotte assumed the weight she felt was air pressure. She’d vowed to throw off the sad weight that was Daniel Moretti.
She’d spent enough time hoping he would change his mind. The truth was, the man was too steeped in self-protection to see any light, and she had too much self-respect to beg. Even if she did by some stretch of the imagination seduce her way into his bed again, what would that do? Without the unguarded emotion that lit his eyes back in Nantucket, sex would be hollow. It was time to forget him and move on. She’d survived her mother’s desertion; she could survive a broken heart. Who knows, maybe out there somewhere existed another man who made her feel as complete and connected as Daniel.
Yeah, and pigs would fly.
“Then after dinner, we can run away and become rodeo clowns. Unless you’d rather head to Seattle and start a coffee franchise with the money we earn from selling our hair.”
“What?”
Judy waved a manicured hand in front of her face. “Checking to see if you’re listening. I’ve been prattling like a crazy lady for five minutes and you haven’t said boo.”
“Sorry,” Charlotte said. “I got lost in thought.”
“I thought we weren’t going to think about him.”
“Who says I’m thinking about him?”
“Have you thought about anything else?”
“No.” Charlotte scraped her toe along the curve. “I can’t help myself. I keep seeing the way he looked on Saturday night and…” She heaved another sigh. “He’s got me whether he wants me or not.”
“All because of me and my stupid clippings.”
“You can quit apologizing. I told you before, if not the clippings, then something else would have interfered. I don’t think anyone will chip through his armor.”
“If a woman as sweet as you couldn’t, then you’re probably right.”
Charlotte would trade everything to be wrong. “Tell you what,” she said, changing the subject. “Let me grab my lecture notes for tomorrow, and we’ll head to Maria’s. I promise I won’t say the name Daniel Moretti once. I’m beginning to depress myself.”
“I’m not sure you’ll be able to keep that promise,” Judy said.
“Sure I will. Soon as you hear me starting to say his name, you can kick me under the table.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She pointed to Charlotte’s office. “Look.”
Charlotte’s heart leaped to her throat. Was that Daniel sitting in the chair outside her door?
As soon as he saw her, he rose to his feet. “Hello, Charlotte. Professor Cleghorn. Still teaching Julius Caesar?”
“Started with Romeo and Juliet instead.”
“The tragedy of love. Interesting choice.”
“Seemed to fit the semester.”
Charlotte still couldn’t believe her eyes. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
He shrugged, a far shier gesture than she’d ever seen him do. “I was hoping we could talk.” His eyes darted to Judy.
“I’ve got a class to teach,” Judy said. “I’ll check with you later, okay?”
Charlotte nodded. “Thanks, Judy.”
The English professor shot a long look in Daniel’s direction before walking away. “Still protective, I see,” he said.
“She looks out for me,” Charlotte said. She wasn’t sure what to make of Daniel’s comment. Was he being genuine or mocking her? Fishing the keys from her bag, she unlocked her door and gestured for him to go inside. “You still haven’t said why you’re here.”
“I got your package.”
“Oh.” Her insides dropped. This was about the land. She should have realized.
“You didn’t leave a note.”
“I didn’t think one was necessary.” Or that he’d care. “The meaning seemed to be pretty clear. I was saying good-bye.”
A shadow fell over his features. “You were?”
“Yes. I realized…” She stopped, collecting herself and her thoughts by leaning against her desk. After spending all week trying to forget Daniel, having him close again was like falling off the wagon. His presence filled the room simply with him standing there. She could feel him in the air around her, even though he was three feet away.
A tiny spark in her heart had her hoping this appearance was more than business. Something that would only lead to her crashing harder when he walked out the door.
“I’m tired of chasing ghosts,” she said finally. Maybe if she said it out loud, she’d sell herself on the concept. “What good does it do? The past is past, right?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him draw a step closer. “Someone once told me that history is rewritten all the time.”
That person was an idiot. A stupid fool who believed if she cared enough, you might care back. “Owning that house isn’t going to bring back my mother,” she told him. “Nor will it ever give me what I really want.”
She didn’t tell him how Saturday night in his arms had.
“That must have been a very difficult decision for you.”
“I suppose.” Not as difficult as giving up on you.
Daniel nodded. While she’d been talking, he’d moved close. So close that Charlotte could smell his aftershave. Memories of his embrace assaulted her.
“I can’t do this,” she said, pulling away. “I can’t have you here reminding me of what I thought was…” She shook her head. “It’s too painful. I know you don’t believe me, and I know you think I’m some sort of uncaring witch, but I’m not, and you coming here…it’s like you’re ripping my heart out of my chest all over again and frankly, I’m not over the first time. So please, Daniel, I’m begging you. Please leave.”
“Esther came.”
She blinked. “What?”
“She arrived right after you left last week.”
“Good for you.” That still didn’t change the fact that his being here was killing her. “Now please, could you just…”
“Wait, you don’t understand. Hear me out, please.” Daniel grabbed her hands. Charlotte was about to pull away again when she noticed that his hands were trembling.
Daniel was nervous?
“The two of us have been doing a lot of talking lately. Or rather, I talked, she yelled. She’s a tough old broad, I’ll tell you that. But then, she’s a Moretti, right?” He attempted a smile. “Anyway, she told me I was an idiot.”
“Really?” She told herself not to read anything into the comment. Not to get excited. After all, what if she was reading him wrong again? Unfortunately, her pulse and her hopes failed to get the message.
“She was right, too,” Daniel said. “I am.” He brushed his lips across her knuckles, a gesture that sent warmth shooting through her body. “I should have believed you about those clippings. I should have asked you the moment I found them.”
“And I should have told you they existed.”
“Maybe we were both idiots.”
He cupped her cheeks, tilting her head so her gaze locked with his. “All my life I wished for one person, just one, who would care about me. I was so certain that no one ever would, I became a master at keeping the people in my world at arm’s length. As long as I kept my distance, I couldn’t be hurt. Problem was, I became so good at protecting myself from false feelings, I couldn’t see the real thing standing in front of me.”
His gaze was so filled with longing. Trembling, she reached out to trace his brow. “What’s different now?”
“I am. Our weekend changed me. I tried, I really tried, to go back to the man I was, but my heart wouldn’t let me. It wouldn’t let me forget you. All I could think of all week was how little I have in my life.”
“That’s not—”
“True? Yes it is. Without you, it is.” His eyes began to shine. “I don’t want to be like Esther,” he told her. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life mourning the love of my life.”
Her vision blurred. “Esther’s love wasn’t real.”
His next words erased the last of the distance between them because she knew how hard they were to say. “Mine is.”
He smiled, his face filled with the deepest, truest emotion Charlotte had ever seen. Gone were the walls he’d hidden behind for so long. “You told me love was something no man could control, and you were right. I love you, Charlotte Doherty. I don’t know how or why it happened, but you became part of me the moment you walked into my office.
“Give me another weekend. A real weekend to prove to you I mean and feel every word I say, that I’m worthy of any feelings you have for me.”
Charlotte thought she would burst. This morning she’d been so convinced she had to pack Daniel away in her heart, in a spot next to her mother and lost hopes. Now here she was, in Daniel’s arms, listening to him ask for a second chance. She didn’t think it was possible.
And to think, it began and ended with her grandmother’s farm. Perhaps that land had been the key to her legacy after all, for it brought her everything she’d been searching for.
“I don’t want another weekend,” she whispered. Her battle against happy laughter failed when she saw the surprise on his face.
“You—you don’t?”
“No, you stupid, silly man.” She caressed his cheek. “I just want you.”
A boyish grin transformed his face. “You got a deal.”
Acknowledgements
You never know what path a book will take on its road to publication. In the case of Weekend Agreement, the path was a long and winding one. The idea began, literally, while I was talking a walk. Fed up with my current manuscript, I decided to throw the story away and start fresh. Something, I thought, with a cranky billionaire and based in New England. I sat down that afternoon to outline, and this story was born. Several versions later, the manuscript won me RWA’s prestigious Golden Heart award. Several more versions–and some terrific editorial support–and the book is finally available for people to read.
Having read that last sentence, you have no doubt discovered that a published novel is a lot like a child: it takes a village to raise one. Over the years, a lot of people have contributed to this story. People such as the many members of NECRWA, including Barbara Ward, Nina Jade Singer, Blanche Marriott, Cathryn Parry, Deborah Monk, Denise Eagan, and Michelle Drosos, all of whom read versions of this story. Thank you also to Entangled author Nicola Marsh for her encouragement, and to my dear online cheerleaders Donna Alward, Aimee Carson, Abbi Cantrell, and Wendy Marcus for the continual kicks in the butt. Finally, I’d like to thank Rima Jean and Alethea Spiridon Hopson for their help in crafting the final version.
In closing, I’d like to encourage everyone to visit the beautiful island of Nantucket. Not only is the island beautiful, but it is a wonderfu
lly welcoming community. Worth the ferry trip!
About the Author
Barbara Wallace has been a lifelong romantic and daydreamer, so it’s not surprising she decided to become a writer at age eight. However, it wasn’t until a coworker handed her a romance novel that she knew where her stories belonged. After years of watching her balance a day job, motherhood and writing, her family urged her to pursue writing full time. She did, and she couldn’t be happier.
She currently lives in Massachusetts with her husband, their teenage son, two indignant cats, and a very spoiled rescue dog. She loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at [email protected] or visit her on Twitter (@barbaratwallace) and on Facebook (Barbara Wallace, Author).
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Weekend Agreement Page 14