But Not for Me (Silhouette Special Edition)

by Annette Broadrick

  Or so he had stupidly thought at the time.

  He’d been on his way back to meet Rachel for lunch when he’d stopped at Arthur’s office. He was too upset to face her then. He’d called Janelle, canceled his afternoon appointments and had left the office.

  From that point on, his memory grew hazy. He vaguely recalled stopping at a liquor store and buying a bottle of bourbon. Why bourbon, he now wondered? He’d never liked the stuff.

  For good reason, his abused body reminded him.

  The next thing he recalled was sitting in his office at home, staring out at the garden and thinking. All right, brooding. He’d wondered why he had thought Rachel would be any different from every other woman he’d known. He’d watched his dad seduce women from their husbands for years. He knew how easily it could be done.

  But not Rachel! his mind screamed at him now. Never Rachel. Rachel loved him.

  Where had that come from?

  Rachel loved him…she had said so, hadn’t she? He thought he remembered that part. She hadn’t sounded too happy about it, though.

  He rolled to his side in an effort to sit up and immediately regretted it. He closed his eyes, still clutching the pillow, and prayed for his imminent death.

  Holding the pillow soothed him. It carried Rachel’s light scent. Even though she had refused to sleep with him last night—for good reason, considering some of the memories that continued to seep into his mind—he could at least hold her pillow for reassurance.

  He forced his eyes open and stared at the open closet door, remembering how he had cried yesterday. Had he cried in front of Rachel? Dear lord, he hoped not. That would really have impressed her.

  Slowly his eyes focused on the interior of the closet—Rachel’s walk-in closet. Rachel’s empty walk-in closet.

  The shock brought him upright.

  “Rachel?” he croaked. He waited, but heard nothing. Speaking increased the pounding in his head. Why would she have taken her clothes out of the closet? What had he said to her?

  He sat on the side of the bed and held his head so that the damn thing wouldn’t roll off his shoulders. What had he said to her?

  He’d accused her of having an affair with Harmon; that’s what he’d done. He didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Rachel? His Rachel? What an idiotic thing to say…to believe for more than a split second….

  But he’d believed it, hadn’t he? Of course he had. That’s why he’d bought the bottle and come home to wallow in his misery and pain. The thought of anyone holding her, even in a public park, had devastated him.

  That part had been true, though, hadn’t it? She’d said something about meeting Rich for lunch in the park. That was odd behavior for Rachel, wasn’t it?

  Wasn’t it?

  He couldn’t think and his empty stomach continued to protest its treatment.

  Brad pushed himself to his feet and managed to walk to the window, where he carefully pulled the drapes closed. Blessed relief, he thought.

  He had to find Rachel and apologize for his behavior. She had every right to be furious with him. Absolutely furious. He would need to grovel—which he was fully prepared to do—but it might be better if he got himself cleaned up some first. He’d just discovered he’d slept—what little sleep he’d gotten—in his clothes last night.

  He reluctantly released Rachel’s pillow and managed to make it to the bathroom without stumbling. He stripped and stepped into the shower, letting the water beat down on his head. He’d either drown or his head would clear. He didn’t particularly care which.

  Brad tried to remember what helped a hangover, but the only thing that came to mind was his dad’s phrase…the hair of the dog…which would never work. He strongly doubted that he would ever be able to smell bourbon without barfing.

  Eventually he dried off and pulled on a ratty pair of jeans and a shirt with the sleeves ripped out. Feeling almost like a functioning human being once more, he went in search of Rachel.

  She was nowhere to be found. Walking carefully in order to keep his balance and make the least amount of noise to protect his aching head, Brad retraced his steps to their bedroom. Her closet was stripped bare.

  Her toiletries were gone from the bathroom. He hadn’t noticed that earlier. He opened a few drawers and knew he’d find them empty.

  Rachel had left him.

  He had to do something. He couldn’t let her leave without explaining his behavior. His thoughts were in turmoil and his head continued to throb.

  First things first. He went to the kitchen and made a pot of very strong coffee.

  By the third cup, his brain kicked in and his morale dropped to zero.

  Had he really said all those disgusting things to her? Well, of course he had. Had he expected her to stay and listen to his insane tirade? Of course not.

  What happened now? he wondered. What if she refused to have anything more to do with him? He couldn’t imagine life without Rachel.

  They’d been married for only four weeks, but she’d been a part of his life for much longer than that—a necessary part. As necessary to him as the air he breathed and the food he ate.

  Why had he never faced that fact before now?

  Everything he’d ever wanted or thought he’d needed while growing up had either been taken away from him or denied him. What had happened to the dreams of that young boy?

  His most secret desire back then had been to be a part of a whole family, one with a husband and a wife, one with sons and daughters to love and to hold. He’d wanted to belong to someone. To belong somewhere.

  To be loved.

  Rachel had given him a sense of home. The company had been their baby. He’d taken on the role of daddy going off to job sites each day while Rachel had stayed at home—or in their case the office. She’d brought order to the place and made sure everything ran smoothly.

  Rachel had been the one to tell him when to hire more staff, who convinced him to move their office to its present location. He’d worked to bring in the income. She had taken care of the rest.

  He’d been married to Rachel for years and never realized it until now.

  He’d been in love with Rachel for years and never realized it.

  Until now.

  Dear God, what had he done?

  He’d made unspeakable accusations. Panicked that he might lose her, he’d done and said everything in his power to drive her away.

  He’d been successful; that was obvious. Now he wondered how he was going to survive without her.

  Brad poured the last of the coffee in his cup and put some bread in the toaster. He had to do something to overcome the alcohol poisoning.

  By the time he finished his meager breakfast, he knew what he had to do.

  He had to find Rachel. As soon as possible. She’d planned to leave town before, maybe she had decided to follow through with her plans.

  If so, she must have gone to her apartment. They had planned to move her furniture and clear out the apartment this weekend. He looked at his watch and groaned. It was almost three o’clock. He had no idea when she had left the house.

  What if she’d already left town?

  He had to find her…even if he had to follow her from here to California.

  Rachel stood on a chair at the back of her closet, pulling stored Christmas ornaments down. She’d been working since she’d gotten up this morning. She hadn’t slept much last night. When she had slept she’d had nightmares—hooded figures chasing her down dark alleyways, Brad accusing her of embezzling from the firm one time, testifying against her at her witch trial another time. She’d been exhausted when she’d finally dragged herself out of bed this morning.

  Since then she’d made a great deal of progress on the apartment. Most of the kitchen was packed. She’d gone out earlier and got boxes from a nearby supermarket. She’d looked in the yellow pages for storage units and a moving company that handled local moves.

  Regardless of how she felt, she had continued to function. She
would get through this. She had no doubt she’d survive. What caused her to tear up from time to time was the realization that these last few weeks had been a mirage and not real at all. Was it only a few days ago when she’d been looking forward to starting a family? How could she have been so deluded?

  Rachel stepped down from the chair and carried the boxes out to her bedroom. The room was beginning to look like a storage room. She could scarcely see the bed for the boxes.

  The doorbell startled her. She certainly wasn’t expecting visitors. Who would know she was here? She shivered. Her stalker might. Or maybe she’d made him up, as Brad had suggested. Maybe she was such a deluded spinster that she’d imagined the notes in order to gain attention. No one else had taken them seriously.

  The doorbell rang again and she wondered if she had finally gone over the edge. Instead of speculating on who it might be, she could go to the door and find out.

  “Coming,” she said, winding her way through the boxes that now littered her apartment. She paused to look through the security hole, hoping to recognize whoever it was.

  When she did, she let out her breath. She had no idea what he was doing here, but she supposed she would soon find out.

  She unlatched the door and opened it. “What a surprise. Come on in.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Arthur Simmons smiled sheepishly at Rachel and said, “I’m sorry for dropping in on you like this. I hope you don’t mind.” He nervously pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He looked at her with concern and she remembered that her eyes were so swollen they looked like slits. If he asked, she’d mumble something about allergies and change the subject.

  Rachel was actually pleased to see him. He would distract her from the thoughts running around in her head like gerbils on a wheel.

  She reached out and took his hand. “I don’t mind at all, Arthur. Please, come in and keep me company, if you can stand the mess.”

  He accepted her hand and stepped into the apartment.

  “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea? I may have some soft drinks in the pantry.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to put you to any trouble. Really. I wanted to speak to you about something and I felt it would be better not to discuss the matter at the office.”

  She released his hand and closed the door, motioning him into the living room. She wanted to roll her eyes but didn’t dare in case he caught her. There was no reason to hurt his feelings. There was no doubt in Rachel’s mind that Arthur was here because he intended to discuss how her reputation was being shredded at the office.

  Her reputation no longer bothered her. It was her shredded heart that might not recover.

  “It’s no trouble.” She walked into the small kitchen and looked at him over the bar. “Have a seat and I’ll get you whatever you’d like.” She opened her pantry door and smiled. “I have several choices for soft drinks. It depends on whether you want something hot or something cold.”

  He walked over to her upholstered rocker-recliner and gingerly sat down. He smiled at her. “A cola sounds good.”

  She nodded. “I think I’ll join you.” She quickly filled a couple of glasses with ice and poured the colas over it. She returned to the living room, handed him his drink and sat on the sofa. Not wanting to get too comfortable, she remained perched on the edge of the couch, sipping the drink and enjoying her break.

  “What do you want to discuss with me?” she finally asked, when Arthur appeared lost in his own thoughts.

  He blinked and stared at her blankly before registering what she’d said. Then his face turned bright red.

  “It’s none of my business and I know that,” he said. “The thing is, I’ve known you for five years and have greatly admired you. Not only as a person but as a consummate professional.” His mouth curled into an amused smile. “I’ve been particularly grateful over the years for your protection of me from Brad’s wrath.”

  “You knew what I was doing?” she asked, surprised.

  “I may not be able to conduct myself smoothly around others, Rachel, but I’m not stupid.”

  “I’m very aware of that, Arthur.”

  “I actually admire Brad for what he’s done with the company. He’s made some astute business decisions over the years that not only are making him money now but will make even more in the future.”

  Now she was really puzzled. Why was he discussing Brad with her?

  Nervously, he placed his glass on a coaster sitting next to his chair. He cleared his throat and said, “The thing is, I’m quite concerned about some of the decisions he’s making in his personal life.”

  She started to reply, but he held up his hand. “Don’t get me wrong. The very stubbornness and aggressiveness that are part of who the man is have helped him to overcome a great many obstacles. However, I’m afraid those traits aren’t as admirable when he runs roughshod over the people around him.”

  She waited to reply until she was certain he’d completed what he wanted to say. When he remained silent, she spoke.

  “Arthur, Brad may never tell you directly, but he considers you to be an integral part of the company, an absolute wizard with numbers. You’ve saved him—and the company—considerable money by studying how the company can best protect itself in today’s market. I know he’s not good at showing his gratitude.” She smiled ruefully. “That’s the reason he’s so generous with his bonuses. It’s the only way he knows to express gratitude.”

  She could not believe she was defending the jerk.

  Arthur looked at her, his bewilderment and confusion obvious. “But Rachel, I wasn’t talking about me.”

  It was her turn to be confused. “You weren’t?”

  “Of course not. It’s you I’ve been worried about!”

  Rachel gave her head a quick shake to clear her mind. She must have missed something during their interchange, although she could have sworn she had listened to every word he said.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to explain what you mean, Arthur. I’m not following you.”

  He rubbed his forehead in obvious frustration. When he looked up, he said, “If I could only reduce what I’m trying to say to a mathematical equation, I would have no problem making myself clear.” He grabbed his glass and took several swallows before returning it to the table.

  “All right,” he said. “Let me try to explain it this way. No. Let me ask you a question. How well do you know Brad Phillips?”

  The headache she’d had since she woke was intensifying. Between lack of sleep, her marriage blowing up in her face—from no fault of her own, she wanted to state to one and all—and Arthur speaking in tongues, today obviously wasn’t going to be one of her better days.

  All right. She would play this his way. “I met Brad close to eight years ago, when he was first starting out. I thought you knew that.”

  He waved his hand impatiently. “I know how long you’ve worked for him, but how well do you know him?”

  Good question. Obviously not as well as she’d thought…or hoped.

  “Arthur,” she said with strained patience, “Why don’t you just tell me what you want to tell me, okay?”

  He leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. “I discovered quite by accident a few weeks ago that you have become romantically involved with him.” He sounded more weary than disgusted.

  “And—?” she asked, waiting for him to please get to the point. No wonder Brad lost patience with the man. Only a saint would be able to wait for him to explain his convoluted thought patterns.

  “Well, after my interviews with him—and you, too, of course—and the offer to join the company, I did a background check on him.” He swallowed and adjusted his glasses.

  “You did what?”

  “I don’t know how things are done in Texas, but back east we want to know about the person we’re working for. I didn’t want to accept employment only to discover later that the business was a front for illegal activities. Texas has a rath
er unsavory reputation for smuggling drugs and people and—” he waved his hand in the air “—things. I didn’t want to be a part of any of that.”

  “Smuggling. I see. Well, I can understand how you might be concerned…being from the east and all.”

  He sighed with relief. “Thanks for being so understanding. I could find nothing illegal about the company but in checking Brad’s records I discovered that he isn’t who he says he is.”

  “He isn’t? Then who is he?”

  A look of distaste crossed his face. “I don’t want to shock you with what I’m about to tell you, but I feel that it’s in your best interest to know the truth about the man.”

  Rachel’s fascination with the way this man’s mind worked grew. “I see,” she finally said, unable to think of anything else to say.

  “His real name is Bradley J. Ogden but he has used many aliases, I’m sorry to say.”

  “Then Phillips isn’t his real name?” she asked, filled with interest by this fascinating conversation.

  “Well…I suppose it is now. It’s his legal name. He had it changed, which is suspicious in itself, don’t you think?”

  “Hmm,” she replied as thoughtfully as possible.

  “The worst part is his father has a long line of arrests, but very few convictions. At least until last year, when the authorities finally managed to put him behind bars!”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “That is interesting,” she said, wondering if Brad would want to know where his dad was…or if he cared. “All of this is of concern to you because I am currently romantically involved with him?”

  He looked down at his hands clasped between his knees. “I would never want to see you hurt, Rachel. He might not mean to, but I’m very much afraid that if you choose to continue with your relationship, he’ll hurt you in some way.”

  Too bad she hadn’t received this warning last week, she thought. But then, last week she was still filled with fantasies about her marriage, her husband, a future family and their happy-ever-after life together.