The Fifth Season

by Korzenko, Julie

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head sadly. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Hey, let’s just stop saying we’re sorry, okay?”

  She smiled, biting back the instinctive apology that almost slipped out. “You got it. I’m done here so I thought I’d check on the progress inside.” Turning away from the most complicated man she’d ever met, Emma headed back to the house.

  “I’ll see you at dinner,” he called after her.

  She waved her agreement but didn’t dare glance back.

  ***

  Emma stepped from the shower and toweled off quickly. She was late. It’d taken longer than expected to perform her walk-through after housecleaning finished. She’d verified that the rooms were prepared, wine rack stocked, refrigerator full, special items purchased and itinerary finalized.

  The Bakers were set. For now, at least.

  What should she wear? Wait a minute, it didn’t matter what she wore. This was only a business dinner.

  “He’s not my type.” She insisted to the mirror. He was…well, he was just too hairy. Emma imagined trying to find his lips beneath his beard and mustache. At least that thought stopped her fingers from trembling.

  “Ready?” A deep voice called from her doorway, almost making her drop the towel that was wrapped around her body.

  It’d never crossed her mind to shut her bedroom door. No one ever ventured into her private section of River Run. “Would you stop that?”

  “What?”

  “Sneaking up on me. I can’t stand it. You’re gonna have to start wearing cowbells.”

  He grinned. “I guess this means you’re not ready.”

  “No, I’m not ready. Does it look like I’m ready?” She winced at her choice of words.

  Stone’s eyes darkened, and his mouth parted slightly. He licked his lips and inhaled sharply. An electric bolt shot straight up her spine as she realized the only thing between his burning gaze and her naked body was a tiny, white towel.

  “I’ll wait for you outside,” he said.

  “Good idea,” she whispered then slammed the door in his face. A throaty laugh filtered down the hall, and she winced again, hating the way her body responded. Emma opened the closet and rooted for something appropriate.

  Thirty minutes later, she arrived on the back deck adorned in a crisp white shirt and black pants. She’d moisturized until her skin glowed. Her face wore only the slightest trace of makeup, enough to hide a few freckles and thicken her lashes.

  Emma nodded to Tilly and glanced around for Stone.

  “He left,” Tilly said. Emma raised her brows at the obvious bitter edge to the woman’s words.

  “Really?” A stab of disappointment lodging in Emma’s chest. “Where’d he go?”

  “I dunno. One minute he was here the next he was gone. Still want to eat?”

  “Of course,” she answered. Tilly shook her head in disgust and returned to the kitchen. Emma knew she needed to deal with the chef’s attitude, but there always seemed to be something more pressing to resolve. She’d admired Stone’s deft handling of the difficult situation earlier and wondered how he’d learned such diplomacy?

  The table was lavishly adorned with the best silverware and finest china. A bottle of wine cooled in an ice bucket, and Emma walked over to pour herself a glass.

  As she placed her hand around the neck of the bottle an arm reached around from behind, taking the bottle from her grasp. Woodsy aftershave signaled the arrival of Stone. He took hold of the wine glass with his other hand, pinning her between his body and the table. Emma was trapped.

  The warmth of his chest pressed against her back igniting every nerve with sparks of energy until her entire system hummed in anticipation.

  She spun around within the circle of his arms and gasped in surprise, her anger fading beneath shock.

  The only familiar feature on the face before her was a set of icy blue eyes warming to a deep azure.

  Chapter Four

  “You shaved.” An uncomfortable pang constricted Emma’s heart. He’d done it. With one swipe of the blade, Stone Connor had flicked off the scab of solitude and opened her soul to a longing she’d never dared contemplate.

  “Yeah, don’t make a big deal of it. I’m not real happy right now.”

  “But you look great,” she said, trying desperately to control the frenzied rhythm of her pulse. He’d been roughly attractive before; but now, without all the facial hair masking his chiseled features, Stone Connor was downright gorgeous. The vulnerability hidden smartly behind cynical eyes undid her, luring her into an alien place.

  Emma studied his face, tracing a finger down the right side of his cheekbone to a strong, square jaw. He tensed and pulled her hand away.

  She shouldn’t have touched him, but her impulses refused to be disregarded. “Sorry.”

  “I figured I’d better look the part of an expensive resort owner and not a mountain man.”

  “I see,” Emma said, a little disappointed. Ridiculous, she silently chided herself. It’s not like he’d do something like this for me. Curbing her bubbling emotions, she remembered the way he’d gazed at her wrapped in the towel. Attraction, in the physical sense, didn’t equal the heartrending sensation rapidly seizing her soul.

  “Want some wine?” He stepped back, a cold draft snaked its way up her arm, replacing the warm tingle of his skin.

  “Yes, please. I’ll just slip inside and inform Tilly we’re ready to eat.”

  “Why not wait a few minutes,” he said, startling her. “I’d like to talk to you.”

  Emma nodded and took a seat at the table. He smiled, displaying a sexy dimple that snagged her attention.

  “What? Am I bleeding?”

  “No. I just hadn’t expected that.” She pointed to his cheek.

  “What?”

  “That dimple.”

  He frowned, the sudden warmth in his eyes fading. “I’d forgotten,” he said.

  Emma looked at her hands, twisting a napkin between her fingers. Forgotten? How did a person forget their own face?

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Your salary.”

  She reached up and gripped the stem of her wine glass. Talk about forgetting. “I don’t have one,” she said.

  “That’s what the accounting reports indicate, and I’d like to change that.” Stone sat back, sipping his wine. His eyes locked onto hers. She ignored the desire that began twirling in her chest instead focusing on this latest obstacle.

  “I don’t want a salary.”

  “I’m not leaving you River Run which means I need to pay you a salary.”

  “Is that what you think? That I don’t have a salary because I expected Margaret to hand River Run to me on a silver platter?”

  “What else am I to think?”

  “You sonofa....” Emma couldn’t finish. Her anger swept the beauty of the evening away. She’d thought maybe he’d changed, warmed up, fit in…made a decision to commit. Isn’t that why he’d shaved?

  Obviously not.

  Stone Connor cared only about himself. She could only guess at his motivation, and it certainly wasn’t toward her best interest. He probably wanted to alleviate his guilt, pay her a ridiculous sum in order to convince his warped sense of righteousness that he’d recompensed her appropriately for a lifetime of blood.

  What did she expect?

  No, Emma realized, her problems were her own. She hadn’t explained her history because he’d fire her. How could she anticipate his understanding? She needed a plan. An escape route.

  She needed to quit overreacting.

  “Hey, don’t go getting all twisted hither and nither. It was an easy assumption.” He leaned forward placing his hand on hers. Emma resisted turning her palm over and grabbing his hand like it was the last rung on a ten-story fire escape. She wouldn’t trust this man.

  “Stop tearing that napkin to shreds. I’m not being confrontational, but I’d like to right any wrongs from
the past.”

  “Your grandmother provided quite handsomely for me, and I’m no charity case.” Emma refused to fall for his counterfeit charm again. She knew the heart of the beast, and it was solid granite. This salary war wasn’t about paying her--it was about control.

  “Still, you deserve a salary.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I prefer to leave things as they are.”

  “Which is?”

  “River Run pays my expenses with a bonus at the end of each year. The bonus is based on a percentage of the previous year’s profits, and the sum is then invested in Clover Enterprises.”

  Stone raised one brow. “Clover is you?”

  “Yes,” she said, ignoring the skeptical expression.

  “Funny, I thought it was someone else.”

  “It’s mine.”

  Emma said a silent prayer. He’d certainly deduced that Nate Connor’s name signed and authorized all transactions for Clover Enterprises. If he delved any deeper, it could very well explode years of planning.

  The man sitting across from her would be shocked to discover she had no license, no bank account, no social security number. As far as the computer banks and the government were concerned, she didn’t exist.

  It needed to remain that way.

  Stone relaxed, obviously content with her explanation. At least he wasn’t pushing anymore.

  Emma raised her glass and sipped the wine. It was her favorite. An Italian Chardonnay the color of honey with a smooth, buttery taste. She detested the woodsy overtone of the more popular Chardonnay’s, and her discovery of this wine sprouted a dangerous obsession. She exercised restraint and limited herself to one bottle a week.

  “This is great wine,” Stone said.

  “Be careful, it’s addictive.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh huh,” she murmured, lost for a moment as the liquid gold slipped down her throat, burning slightly. This was how Stone made her feel, she realized with a start. Careful girl. That kind of thinking would only lead to heartbreak.

  “Next item on my agenda…” Stone leaned forward and focused all his attention on her face, causing a river of panic to surface. What did he know? “Is a stipulation that if not followed will result in immediate dismissal.”

  Her throat tightened, and she swallowed back the sudden panic.

  “My father isn’t to step one foot on this property.”

  “But...”

  “No,” he warned. “This is not up for discussion.”

  Emma sat back, her chest constricting in pain. She didn’t know who this affected the most…him, her, his father? All three of them, she figured.

  Could she manage a year without Nate? More importantly, could Nate manage a year without her? Leaving River Run and moving in with Nate wasn’t an option. She’d considered it briefly the first night Stone arrived, but the thought of bringing trouble to a man who’d survived a grueling life seemed unfair.

  She’d protect Nate. He’d sheltered her from loneliness and pain at great personal cost. The man didn’t need any more problems, and the arrival of his son already caused him agony.

  “I understand your feelings...” she began, but the dangerous shadow that crossed Stone’s face interrupted her.

  “How could you? I don’t know what lies he’s told you, but I can certainly assure you that you don’t understand. Look at your surroundings, look at where you were raised.”

  She stood and tossed her napkin on the table. Bending down, her nose practically touching his, she could feel his breath on her face. “Look at where I was raised?” She battled to control her anger and despair. “You know nothing. You could’ve had this...all of this and then some, but instead you ran. But don’t you worry, Mr. Connor, I’ll respect your wishes. However, I won’t be able to stay the year, that’s asking too much.”

  Emma turned around and collided with Tilly. “It looks like Mr. Connor will be dining alone tonight,” she said.

  “What do you mean you won’t be able to stay the year?” Stone called to her back. She stopped, turned and faced him.

  “Your father needs me,” she said. Her anger at his self-centered demand barely remained in check. “He won’t survive.”

  “But…”

  She raised her hand, denying any retort. “I’ll be leaving as soon as I find an apartment.” Her heart stuttered. How was she going to find a place to rent? Money wasn’t the problem, it was the application. Her name would be made public. Damn, Stone Connor. Damn him.

  “Stop,” Stone yelled, rising to his feet and crossing the space in three long strides. He grabbed her arm and stared into her eyes. His steely gaze laced with a hint of desperation confirmed to Emma that his capability to manage River Run was nil. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  What a snake pit of contradiction. His actions defied his words at every corner of their conversation. He didn’t want her to leave, but he demanded unreasonable restrictions. Unfortunately, her position remained equally as perilous. They needed one another, whether they liked it or not.

  “I need to see your father.”

  “Why? What’s he to you?”

  “Do you really want to know?” Emma pushed his hand off her arm, stepping forward and jabbing a finger to his chest. “You don’t care. You won’t forgive.”

  “Damn right, I won’t forgive. That man’s nothing but pig slop to me.”

  “It’s a shame, you know? The two of you have so many wonderful qualities in common it’d be a real show stopper to see who’d out spit the other.”

  Stone glared at her. “I’m nothing like that man.”

  “You’d be surprised.” Emma turned once more, heading into the house.

  “Does he have to come here?” Stone called.

  She paused and thought a moment. Attempting to lay her emotions aside and think clearly, Emma contemplated her best interests. She faced Stone.

  “No, I’ll go to him.”

  “See?” He grinned lopsidedly. “We can do this. You don’t have to run away every time I’m being difficult.”

  Emma didn’t find any of this humorous. Actually, her stomach felt as if it’d sunk to the bottom of Jenny Lake. She’d go to Nate. She’d stay with Stone. Why then, did it all feel wrong?

  “I’m no longer hungry.”

  “What a shame,” Tilly interrupted, scooting in from the kitchen. “Maybe he’ll appreciate a little company of the more friendly kind.” Emma watched in astonishment as the chef gracefully slid into the chair beside Stone. “It’s a shame for all the food to go to waste,” she practically cooed.

  Turning to see Stone’s reaction, her gut twisted painfully at his obvious interest in Tilly.

  “Fine, Tilly. It appears Mr. Connor might be up for a little friendly conversation.”

  Turning, she walked as gracefully as possible across the deck and into the house. She could feel his black gaze burning her back. Damn, but if she wasn’t jealous…

  ***

  “So, Mr. Connor, what’ll it be? Appetizers? Or do you want to skip right to dessert?”

  Stone eyed Tilly. He couldn’t believe Emma walked away leaving him here with this over-bearing, top-heavy, slithering slut. It appeared Ms. O’Malley didn’t care whether or not he accepted Tilly’s unspoken invitation.

  That bothered him.

  He slapped away the all too familiar feeling of abandonment. Emotion wasn’t good. Swearing silently, he realized Emma O’Malley was no better than his father. The second something he said or did contradicted her goals, she ran. He hoped the exit door didn’t sting too badly when it hit her on the back.

  “Just make me a plate, Tilly. I’ll take it to my room.” He rose and grabbed the wine. No use wasting a good chardonnay. “Alone,” he continued as Tilly waggled her brows.

  “Your loss, boss.” She left the deck and went into the kitchen returning a few minutes later with a steaming plate of food. “Enjoy.”

  Stone took the plate and headed to
his suite. Needing Emma’s cooperation to continue the successful atmosphere of River Run was one thing, but wanting her with every thread of his existence forced him into a territory more dangerous to him than his last mission.

  Why must she be so difficult?

  Why did he care?

  ***

  Emma sat on the edge of her bed, a faded picture held lightly between her fingers. Tears edged her lashes and dropped silently onto her cheek, weaving a warm path to her chin. She sniffed, grabbed a tissue off her nightstand, and continued staring at the photograph.

  Nate Connor’s blue eyes stared at her. They were identical to Stone’s and caused an uncomfortable hitch in her heart. These men belonged together. Time hadn’t healed their wounds it only rubbed the salt of anger deeper into the raw flesh. She closed her eyes and images flashed in her mind.

  A tiny piglet wiggling from strong arms, dashing across the barn yard and straight into Emma’s grasp. How’d Nate known? Was it be possible for a man who’d abandoned his only child to understand that her aching, thirteen year-old soul, needed something to hang on to…something to remind her to live? If that were the truth, then Nate Connor paid more than once for past indiscretions.

  Emma stood up, swiped the tissue across her face, and exited the bedroom. Her wine was on that back deck, and she’d muck stalls before allowing Tilly to consume that bottle

  The deck was empty.

  Dishes were gone, glasses cleared away and the ice bucket vacant of her coveted fruit.

  Wow, she thought. They’d moved fast.

  Ignoring the envious rage building, Emma returned to her rooms.

  She needed to leave.

  She wanted to stay.

  Shaking her head in frustration, she let loose a strangled scream. Could life become more complicated?

  A soft knock on her bedroom window startled Emma. She peered out the curtains and frowned when Nate’s face smiled back. Damn. She opened the window, and he climbed through.

  Her heart hammered in fear. If Stone pulled one of his silent approaches, she’d be done for.