Business or Pleasure? Page 15

  When he stepped inside the cool, quiet interior of their suite, the atmosphere seemed eerily calm. A strange, inexplicable chill hopped down his spine as he walked toward the bedrooms. At the last minute, a noise from Daisy’s room made him turn left instead of right in his search.

  “Daze?” he called out and reached down to scratch Bam Bam who was sitting outside Daisy’s not-quite-closed door.

  A loud thump came from inside her room so he moved one step closer and pushed open the door with a fingertip.

  And that’s when he saw her throwing things into her suitcase so fast you’d think the place was on fire.

  He blinked. Twice. “What are you doing?” he asked, and stood still as a statue in the doorway even though his pulse had shifted into high gear.

  She didn’t even look up. “Packing.”

  “I can see that,” he said, and swatted away a nagging sense of dread. “Where are you going?”

  “Home.” She pulled a stack of shirts from a drawer and savagely dumped them into her open bag.

  Apprehension, sharp and insistent, trickled through him as he watched her whirling about the room in her haste. “I must have missed something. Why are you going home?”

  “Because I can’t stay here anymore.”

  He looked around the room, saw silk and lace spilling out of one drawer, sweaters falling out of another. One suitcase was already packed, a third sat empty at the foot of the bed. He searched for what could be wrong and came up empty.

  “Daisy, what happened?”

  “Section seven, paragraph D,” she said matter-of-factly and handed him a thick sheaf of papers as she spun by him.

  The Santa Margarita contract. It was opened to the section she’d mentioned. The heading read “Mackenzie Architectural Staffing Requirements.”

  So she knew. Dammit.

  At first, it’d been a business decision not to tell her the circumstances that led to her being rehired. After all, he couldn’t afford to have her refuse. Later, well, he knew he should have told her but honest to God, with everything they’d gone through in the last week, he’d just never found the right time.

  “Hey,” he said, taking a step toward her. “I know I should have told you but I thought you’d get upset.” He tried a weak smile. “And look. I was right.”

  She shot him a look so deadly, it should have killed him where he stood.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, putting both hands up. “I am. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself.”

  She zipped up the second suitcase and started packing the third. “Too little, too late,” she said, repeating his words from the previous night. “You lied to me, Alec.”

  Anger rumbled deep in his gut but long practice kept it from marring his outward calm. “No. I said I wanted you to come back and I did.”

  “No, you didn’t. You wanted to win. Well, congratulations,” she said as she threw a pair of sneakers into the suitcase. “You won. You got what you wanted.”

  The pain in her eyes was so intense he had a sudden urge to take her into his arms and comfort her. But then, just as quickly, he swept the instinct aside.

  “This isn’t about winning and losing,” he said, although he knew with a flash of unease that—originally, anyway—it had been about that very thing. “Oh, c’mon, Daze,” he said, purposely trying to keep his voice even. “Don’t be mad. You came back. I got the contract. We’re a great team. Hasn’t this all turned out for the best?”

  “‘I need you, Daisy,’” she quoted as if she hadn’t heard him. “‘I can’t do this without you, Daisy.’” She stuffed a handful of bras into her suitcase. “Those are lies. And they’re the basis for everything we’ve done together since.”

  She looked up at him, her expression aghast, her cheeks bright with embarrassment. “My God. This must be what it feels like to be one of your temporary bimbos,” she said. “Poor girls,” she muttered as she returned to her task with a shake of her dark, soft curls. “And to think I wasted so much time carrying a torch for you. Well, fortunately for me, I wised up before you could use me up and discard me.”

  The anger bubbled, then spilled into him, washing over him like a miserable, ruthless tide. “So you’re leaving,” he choked out. The heat in his voice scorched the very air around them.

  “Yes. I’ll explain to the Baldwins—”

  “To hell with the Baldwins,” he said, and turned away from her so she couldn’t see the hurt he knew was showing in his eyes.

  Of course she was leaving. Of course. Lord, he’d been out of his mind to believe she was different. What had he been thinking to let himself get so tangled up with her? For chrissakes, how could he have let himself get so close that she could hurt him at all?

  When he heard her zipping up the last suitcase a moment later, he turned back to her, his face a carefully composed mask. When he spoke, he kept firm control over his voice, his expression, his body language. “I’ll call accounting tomorrow morning and have them cut you a check.”

  She blinked and he watched, silent and grim, as the tears that had gathered in her dark, wounded eyes spilled over and slid down her cheeks.

  And then Alec turned and walked away.

  Because Alec hadn’t had a relationship with his mother for so long, one of the many things he couldn’t possibly have known about her was that she was as persistent as the moon pulling in the tides.

  In the four days since Daisy had left, Barbara had called exactly four times, asking him to meet her for dinner. On Thursday afternoon he finally relented and agreed to meet her the following night.

  The longest day of the year was only few days away, so the sun was still clinging to the horizon as Alec walked to The Galley on Duncan Street to meet his mother for dinner.

  He was in no hurry to get there. As he walked past the noisy, colorful, summer tourists swarming the pier, he noticed his steps were slow, his energy drained.

  The last few days at work had been a disaster without Daisy, but the nights had been worse. Sleep had become nothing more than a dim, hazy memory as he lay alone in his big, empty bed night after night, thinking of how wonderful it had been to hold her, soft and sated, in his arms each night as he fell asleep. Thank God his days were full of the extra work her departure had left behind. It was the only time he wasn’t completely preoccupied with thoughts of her and the heartbreaking look on her face when he’d last seen her.

  He sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It was for the best. He knew it was. But still, he couldn’t deny that all the joy had leaked out of his life the minute he’d walked out the door. And now that Daisy was gone, it seemed that he was just putting one foot in front of the other in virtually every area of his life.

  Thanks to her, work was now a lonely grind, the idea of shallow bimbos bored him silly, and waking up with a soft, warm woman—more specifically, Daisy Kincaid—in his arms had become as natural as breathing. Damn her, he thought. For worming her way into his life, into his mind and—it made him mad as hell to admit it—into his heart.

  But what was he supposed to do? he thought crossly, when by both word and deed, she’d made it clear she didn’t want anything to do with him?

  “Hello, Alec,” his mother called out, waving at him from in front of the restaurant. “Hello!”

  “Hi, Barbara,” he said as he opened the door for her and accepted her continental, two-cheek air kiss in greeting.

  “Was it a long walk?” she asked, then kept up a steady stream of nervous chatter as they were shown to their table.

  Because they hadn’t spoken in years, they had a lot to catch up on so they didn’t lack for conversation during dinner. As the meal wound down, though, his mother grew quieter. After the coffee was served, she reached across the table, then stopped just short of touching his hand.

  “Alec, I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” she said as she pulled her hand back. “Something I should have told you a long time ago.” She looked down into her cooling, untouched
coffee and sucked in a big breath. “About three years before you were born, your father and I had another child. A son.”

  His hand tightened on his cup reflexively. “Are you telling me I have a—” But he stopped when she shook her head.

  “No.” Her voice was a whisper. He had to lean forward to hear what she said next. “Your brother died just three days before he would have been six months old.”

  Alec’s throat constricted. It felt like someone was squeezing the air out of him little by little.

  “Your father wanted to have another child right away but I couldn’t do it.” She looked up, and he saw her eyes were shiny with tears. “I was so afraid. No one could tell us why Christian had died, and I was sure I’d done something wrong…. God,” she said quietly, “I loved that little boy so much.”

  For a moment the years-old grief was fresh in her eyes, and Alec could suddenly imagine her as a young woman, enduring the misery of losing her child. Just as suddenly, his heart began to ache for her.

  “Anyway,” she said as she dashed the tears away with the back of her hand, “of course, I finally got pregnant. With you.” She smiled unsteadily. “You were such a wonderful little boy. So charming and sweet. But something had happened to me when we lost Christian. It was like I’d died, too. Inside,” she said, and touched her heart with her fingertips.

  She was silent for a moment, and while he stared into the eyes that were so much like his own, memories filled the silence. His mother and father fighting, the parade of nannies and housekeepers, the distance between himself and his parents that he’d always hoped to bridge, the way he’d tried so hard to win her attention, and how he’d finally given up hope.

  “Essentially, Christian’s death ended my marriage,” she said finally. “But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was what I did to you.” Her deep-blue eyes burned with sorrow and regret. “Because I knew how much it would hurt to lose you, I refused to take the risk of loving you.” She reached out then and took his hand, gripped it hard. “Of course,” she said, and he heard her voice crackle with long-pent-up emotion, “in the end it wasn’t something I could control. I loved you, anyway.” She squeezed his hand again. “How could I not?” she asked with a pale smile. “You were my baby.”

  He smiled, too, and had to make an effort to quell the emotional tsunami raging inside him. “I know,” he said simply, and tightened his own hold on her fingers.

  “I’m sorry, Alec. I missed out on so much.”

  “It’s all right,” he said, surprised that he really meant it. “I’m glad you told me. It explains so much.”

  She cleared her throat awkwardly, her smile growing. “There’s one more thing.”

  “There’s more?” he asked and his mother laughed.

  “I want to start over, Alec. Let’s face it, I have more days behind me than I do in front of me—”

  He must have looked alarmed because she stopped short and said, “No, no. Everything’s fine. I just don’t want to waste anymore time. And someday you’ll give me grandchildren—”

  “Don’t count on it,” he interrupted, but his words lacked some of the conviction they would have had a week or two earlier.

  She didn’t pry, she just stirred her cold coffee and let it go. “You’re a good man, Alec,” she said with just a shadow of sadness. “You did a good job raising yourself.”

  He smiled. “Not everyone would agree with you, Mom,” he said. “But thanks.”

  And after they’d finished their coffee and had made plans to get together the following week, he walked home through the bustling center of town and thought about how she’d chosen not to be a mother to keep herself safe from being hurt. He thought about how she’d run away and hidden behind her work. And then he thought about how badly that had backfired for everyone.

  But it wasn’t until much, much later when the pinkening dawn was peering through the shutters and he was still staring up at the ceiling that he realized how much he and his mother were alike. She’d tried to shield herself from love, and all she’d really done was grow older, isolated and lonely and filled with regrets. He’d done the same, tried to keep himself from falling in love with Daisy, and now here he was, miserable and alone.

  Alec knew that Daisy had probably already slipped beyond his reach. He’d been a jerk—and not just during their last conversation. He’d been a jerk to Daisy almost since he’d met her. He’d taken her for granted on a daily basis, been too busy selfishly protecting himself to see that she truly cared for him. Because of that, he’d thrown an endless parade of inferior women in her face. And then, to reward her for her loyalty, he’d used her to secure this job and his professional reputation.

  For three long years Daisy had given him everything. Even, apparently, her love. And he’d given her nothing but a paycheck.

  Now that he understood that, he wondered why it had taken her so long to quit.

  Alec looked out the window and saw the sky lighten, watched the subtle pinks and blues blend and dance as he waited impatiently for the world to come awake.

  As soon as it did, he was going to go to L.A. and do whatever it took to find Daisy and get her back. Only this time he’d ditch the lies and deceit. This time he was going to tell the truth.

  Hopefully, he wasn’t too late. Because he had no intention of growing old bitter and alone. He was going to grow old happy and fulfilled and peaceful.

  With Daisy.

  Daisy sat on the porch with Bam Bam stretched bonelessly across her lap and looked out over the lovely, crystalline blue Pacific and the lush, intricately tended gardens that surrounded the Baldwins’ guest cottage. The early-morning sky was painted in magnificent shades of pastel, and the distant shores of Los Angeles were muted and softened by a misty fog.

  For the sixth day in a row, she’d woken up in paradise, she thought as she ran a hand absently over the cat’s soft fur. But the grand display that nature had been putting on was wasted on her because Daisy had never been so unhappy in all her life.

  A week ago, when she’d come to offer both her thanks and her apologies to the Baldwins, she’d had every intention of getting on the next ferry back to Los Angeles and starting the long process of getting on with her life. It was Virginia who’d suggested that she take a week to relax and reflect before making any decisions about the future. Daisy had been reluctant, but eventually she’d accepted their generous offer of the lovely little cottage tucked far up the hill behind the main house.

  The week had been tranquil, peaceful and terribly, terribly lonely.

  Even though her last image of Alec was that of his angry, frozen eyes just before he walked out of her life, the memories that had been haunting both her waking hours and her restless nights were far more disturbing: his blue eyes shifting to a dark azure just before he’d taken her in his arms that first rainy day; his twinkling eyes filled with laughter as he’d watched her making sand angels on the beach; the stunned look on his face when she’d walloped him at chess; the tender spark she’d seen in his gaze when she’d first explored his body with her hands and her mouth.

  A shiver of pure longing passed through her, and she felt deeply sad. It was time. Time to go home and begin again.

  She spent the morning packing, then walked down to the main house to say goodbye. Virginia had been a gracious hostess and a patient friend from the first, listening to Daisy’s tearful explanation of what had happened without making judgments or blaming either Alec or Daisy. Now she hugged Daisy and told her to call anytime she needed a shoulder, to come back anytime she needed refuge.

  By noon Daisy had returned her cart to the Hotel Margarita and was waiting at the ferry landing for the next boat.

  She dropped down onto her largest suitcase and set Bam Bam’s cage by her feet. It was Saturday and the harbor was thronging with tourists, newly arrived and full of energy. Herds of Scouts and school kids crowded the dock, pushing and shoving and laughing as they sorted through the mountains of gear they’d brought.
Teenagers flew by on their skate-boards, parents chased after their children and couples strolled hand in hand along the boardwalk.

  Daisy sighed, overwhelmed by the twists and turns of the past few weeks. She didn’t know how she was going to do it, but she was going to stop loving Alec Mackenzie. And she was going to start by picking up the pieces of her heart and gluing them back together with whatever optimism she could dredge up from the bottom of her own personal well. And she would start immediately, if not sooner.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” a deep, profoundly familiar voice said from behind her.

  She twisted around, her pulse jumping and skittering. Alec wore a rumpled denim shirt and khakis that needed pressing and he hadn’t gotten close enough to a razor to make a difference in days. He looked, as usual, gorgeous. He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, and her heart betrayed her and picked up the pace. He’d lied to her, he’d used her and he’d left her and her body didn’t care.

  Lied, used, left, she repeated to herself and clung to it like a life preserver. Lied, used, left.

  “Why? Did you forget to say something?” she asked, holding her resolve in place by the sheer force of her will and her remembered anger.

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” he said as he hunkered down in front of her. He searched her face, settled on her eyes. “My God, I’ve missed you, Daze.”

  She wanted to look away but couldn’t. She was stuck, like filings on a magnet. “That’s what you forgot to say?”

  She clutched her bag in front of her, saw the ferry approaching out of the corner of her eye. Thank goodness. In minutes she’d be able to make her escape.

  “No, I forgot one other thing.”

  She waited. Whatever he said wasn’t going to make a difference. She was leaving, any minute now. Soon she’d be safe from his lies, his thoughtless, selfish manipulations, his—