Читать книгу Forever A Hero - Linda Lael Miller - Страница 10
ОглавлениеMACE WAS NOT a man given to obsessive thoughts; he was too busy for that, as a general rule. But at day’s end, with the landscape he loved surrounding him, cloaked in the purplish-pink haze of dusk, he couldn’t get Kelly Wright out of his mind.
He did the things he always did—checking the equipment in the winery, locking up his small, cluttered office an hour or two after he should have, walking between the long rows of vines, acres of them, looking for any sign of disease or blight. All the while, he was soaking in the singular energy of good dirt and growing things.
He’d probably missed supper—again—but he was used to that, and so was Harry, the Carson family’s longtime cook and housekeeper. She usually left a plate in the fridge or warming in a slow oven, the food foil-covered, with his name scrawled atop it in black marker, invariably followed by a series of exclamation points.
Mace smiled, aware that the emphatic punctuation was meant for his two older brothers. Slater and Drake were active men with normal appetites, and as nourishing as Harry’s meals were, neither of them was above foraging for leftovers in the search for a late-night snack. The labeling was her way of warning them off, should they be tempted to help themselves to Mace’s supper, and it was effective—most of the time.
Both Slater and Drake were forceful types; like Mace, they’d been raised to go after what they wanted. But they usually knew better than to purloin grub Harry had posted as off-limits.
He was about to leave the vineyard and head for the house when his phone signaled an incoming text. He took it from his shirt pocket and squinted at the message, expecting to hear from a buyer, or one of his salespeople, or maybe his mother, reminding him, as she sometimes did, that even wine moguls had to eat and sleep.
Mace stopped, everything inside him quickening as he read the text. It was from Kelly, and it was brisk. Intriguing, too, on a personal level.
If you’re free, let’s have lunch tomorrow, here at the resort. I’m eager to give you a preliminary overview of what our company has to offer in terms of worldwide distribution. If you’re agreeable, we can meet in the lobby at noon. I’ve made reservations at Stefano’s.
Mace had been to more lunch and dinner meetings than he could count since the first viable crop of grapes had been ready to ferment, and not a single one of those meetings had ruffled him in the least. This one, however, turned his breath shallow and practically doubled his heart rate.
Why was that?
He scrolled back to the top of the text and read it again, wondering at his mixed reaction. The message was crisply phrased and to the point, all business, and he respected that; it was the way he did things, too. Time was money, and all that.
Still, something about this message, the cool professionalism, maybe, scraped at a tender place inside him and made him feel like a stranger.
Which was reasonable because, like it or not, he was a stranger to Kelly, as she was to him.
He’d happened to be in the right place at the right time to lend a hand when it was needed, ten years ago and again last night, but Kelly had thanked him on both occasions, and that was that, as far as he was concerned.
The first time around, it had been enough to know the assailant was in custody and, with his extensive rap sheet, on his way to the state prison for a long stretch.
Mace had been dating someone else back then, and there’d never been a romantic attachment between him and Kelly. He’d held Kelly’s hand in the emergency room, been with her when the police took her statement, then come back to testify at the trial months later. They’d been acquaintances, not lovers or even friends, really.
He’d graduated within weeks of the incident and gone straight to his grandfather’s vineyard in the Napa Valley for some hands-on training in the art of fine winemaking. He’d put in months of eighteen-hour days under the old man’s tutelage, followed by the rigors of starting an operation of his own once he returned to Wyoming and the ranch.
The truth? He’d been too focused on his work to think about Kelly and that night on campus or the trial, except on rare occasions when some news report triggered the memory. Even his then-girlfriend, Sarah, as undemanding a woman as he’d ever known, had finally gotten tired of waiting for him to surface from the grind and pay her some attention. She’d sent him the modern version of a Dear John letter in the form of a text, something along the lines of, “Have a nice life.” He’d been hurt, although he’d known, even then, that the relationship between him and Sarah was going nowhere.
It made sense that Sarah’s message had rattled him, but this one?
Kelly had suggested a business lunch, period. Most likely, he’d imagined the standoffish tone, and that was troublesome, too. It was one thing to be concerned; the woman could easily have been seriously injured or killed if she hadn’t gotten out of that car when she did.
The problem was, he’d been more than concerned.
He’d hovered. Even now, he was hyperaware of Kelly. Reading nuances, for God’s sake, like some obsessive fool.
He had to step back, he decided. Get his bearings.
Stop thinking like a stalker.
That idea was ludicrous enough to bring on a grin as he walked toward the main house, looking forward to a hot shower, a warmed-up supper and a good night’s sleep. By morning, he’d be his old, levelheaded, roll-with-the-punches self.
He paused on the side porch, in a shaft of light from the hallway leading to the kitchen, took out his phone and thumbed a response to Kelly’s text. It was short and sweet.
See you tomorrow at high noon.
* * *
TRUE TO HER WORD, Laura had overnighted a packed suitcase to Kelly, and it must have arrived while she was having breakfast in the resort’s small, busy bistro, because when she returned to her room, there it was on the luggage stand. When she opened it, she blessed her youthful assistant for making all the right choices.
Inside were:
Two tailored pantsuits and two silk camisoles.
A simple black cocktail dress and a strand of pearls, just in case there was a dinner meeting or an unexpected social event.
Shoes and bags for each outfit.
Laura had thought of everything; she had a talent for that. She’d also included plenty of lacy bras and panties, three pairs of jeans, several long-sleeve T-shirts, socks and sneakers. There was a soft cotton nightgown, as well. Plus a bathing suit and cover-up.
Finally, Laura had tucked in a zippered bag containing basic cosmetics and toiletries. Ordinarily, Kelly wore a minimum of makeup, only lip gloss, mascara, a tinted moisturizer and a little blusher.
Everything she needed was there.
She chose the day’s clothing carefully, selecting the black pantsuit, a favorite of hers, with a short jacket fitted at the waist, and a beige camisole with plenty of lace at the neckline to soften the look.
It was the perfect outfit, the female version of the classic power suit, flattering but strictly in a no-nonsense, keep-your-distance-please kind of way.
Except for the lace, maybe.
Would that send Mace the wrong message? Make him think she wanted more than a handshake and a signed contract?
Seduction was definitely not her style. She was a serious, committed professional, and she never, but never, mixed business with pleasure.
Admittedly, she’d been shaken up after the accident that had wiped out rental car number one the day before. She’d probably come off as a little needy. Well, if she had given Mace that impression, she was determined to set things straight, ASAP.
No matter how sexy he was, with his loose-hipped cowboy walk and his broad shoulders and his brown-blond hair brushing the back of his collar, she would keep everything in perspective. She was grateful for his help, naturally, but she was no fairy-tale heroine, swooning and sighing in her prince’s strong arms after the most recent encounter with a fire-breathing dragon.
No, sir. She would conduct their meetings, make her final presentation, complete with graphs and figures and flashy photos of jet-setters enjoying fine wine in exotic places, and then she’d return to LA and the satisfying, if somewhat lonely, life she’d made for herself there. She had a great job, a nice place to live, fine clothes. She had friends.
Well, actually, she had business colleagues rather than friends, but with her schedule, who had time for girls’ nights out, weekend spa visits and gossip?
She certainly didn’t. They simply didn’t fit into her schedule.
And forget romance, much as she missed the benefits. She’d gone on exactly six dates in the three years since her divorce, and every one of them had been disastrous for one reason or another.
Feeling her hard-core commitment to her career slip just slightly, Kelly squared her shoulders and silently reminded herself that, yes, she’d once dreamed of a happy marriage and children. She’d totally missed the boat, but nobody had it all. In her own experience, jobs like hers took up too much space and energy to coexist with a spouse in a satisfying way. Her own divorce, and those of a good many of her associates, proved the theory.
She’d seen a few couples make it work, of course, but they were exceptions to the rule, and, in her circles, incredibly rare. Plus, there was no telling how much of their alleged happiness was an act, a mere facade, a cover-up for secret shouting matches and God knew what other kinds of dysfunction.
It wasn’t for her; she was sure of that.
Mace Carson wasn’t the first attractive man she’d encountered, and he wouldn’t be the last, so she’d better keep her perspective. Looking the way he did, Mace surely had his choice of women eager to share his bed, and even if he did want to settle down, which she doubted, he was country, through and through. He was probably interested in an old-fashioned girl, content to stay at home instead of working toward goals of her own. A wife who’d prepare his meals, iron his shirts, bear and raise his children, vote as he voted, the whole bit.
Although she knew she wasn’t being fair, Kelly shuddered at the images unfolding in her mind.
She wanted no part of such a life.
Not that he’d shown any signs of offering.
Strangely deflated all of a sudden, Kelly went on about her business. With renewed purpose.
* * *
FOR ALL HIS private resolutions to take a step back and stay cool, the sight of Kelly standing in the resort lobby, looking sharp in a black pantsuit with a splash of beige lace in the V of her fitted one-button jacket, struck Mace like a punch to the solar plexus.
Hot damn, he thought. Hello, square one.
He’d spent half the night trying to untangle the complicated emotions Kelly Wright stirred in him, things he’d never felt before with any of the women he’d dated, including his college girlfriend, Sarah. And he’d expected to marry her.
After Sarah, and his return to the ranch following the apprenticeship with his grandfather, he’d dated a lot, going out with local women—Mustang Creek had its share of smart, sexy females—but the majority were visitors, come to ski in winter or explore nearby Yellowstone Park in summer, or just to relax at the resort.
In other words, they were merely passing through. They’d had lives and careers in other places, and that had been fine with Mace. It was when the talk turned to settling down, as it inevitably did at some point, that he started backpedaling like crazy.
Now, here was a whole different Kelly from the damp, shaken one he’d driven to the hospital the night before. This was the real her, no doubt—strong, independent, ready to sell him on some kind of partnership with her company.
It was a brand-new rodeo.
But the lace...
Did he want to take her to bed?
Hell, yes. He was a normal human being, and Kelly was sexy as all get-out. He even suspected she might be receptive to a little down-home country charm, followed by some sheet-tangling.
The problem was, Kelly was vulnerable in some way the others hadn’t been. If and when he made love to her, he wanted it to be for the right reasons.
Not because she was grateful for his help, then or now. And not because she was bruised and far from home and in need of some comfort.
She owed him nothing, in his opinion, and he certainly didn’t expect a sexual payback. No. Unless Kelly came to him willingly, with a clear head, he wouldn’t lay a hand on her, no matter how badly he wanted her.
All these thoughts tumbled through his mind as he stood, hat in hand, watching her watch him.
Maybe their gazes held too long, because after a moment, Kelly’s air of confidence seemed to slip just a little. She looked a mite uncertain as she eyed Mace’s crisp white Western shirt, jeans and polished boots. A pink blush blossomed in her cheeks.
Fortunately, she recovered quickly, approaching him with a let’s-do-business smile and a hand extended for a shake.
“Hello, Mr. Carson,” she said.
The formality of her greeting both saddened and amused him, but he tried not to let either response show as he took a firm grasp of the extended hand and shook it. “Mr. Carson, is it?” he asked mildly. “How about calling me Mace?”
“Mace,” she repeated, looking nervous again. As before, she reined that in quickly—though not quite quickly enough. “I’m Kelly,” she said, and then seemed embarrassed.
He grinned. “Yes, I know.”
“Right,” she said, and swallowed visibly.
“You mentioned lunch?” Mace prompted with gentle humor. “In that text you sent me last night, I mean?”
“Yes,” she said, still off her game. “Lunch. I made a reservation at Stefano’s.”
“Good choice,” Mace said. He gestured with his hat, indicating the restaurant’s entrance on the far side of the lobby. “Shall we? I’m hungry.”
Again, that fetching blush colored Kelly’s cheeks. “Absolutely,” she said after drawing a breath so deep it raised and lowered her slender shoulders.
He imagined those shoulders bared, smooth and sun-kissed, along with her perfect breasts.
Mace shook off the image. Thought about offering his arm, then decided against it. Kelly was clearly on edge, and he didn’t want to make things any more difficult for her—or for himself—than they already were.
“Relax,” he said in a husky whisper. “This is business, remember?”
Her smile was on the wobbly side, but it was a smile, at least, and it was beautiful. “I guess I’m still a bit jumpy after the other night. Sorry.”
They were moving by then, approaching the restaurant. “You’re feeling okay, though?” he asked. “Nothing hurts?”
She shook her head. Her honey-colored hair was done up in a fashionably sloppy bun, exposing her long, elegant neck, and Mace suppressed a powerful urge to take her shoulders in his hands, trace the length of that silken flesh with his mouth.
“I’m in great shape,” she said.
You can say that again, Mace thought wryly. But all he said was, “Good.”
They reached the podium in front of Stefano’s, and Kelly took charge, giving her name to the hostess on duty and saying she had a lunch reservation for twelve o’clock.
Cindy Henderson, the kid sister of one of Mace’s closest friends, beamed a smile at Kelly and nodded, taking two menus from the shelf under the podium. “Yes, Ms. Wright. Your table is ready.” Cindy turned twinkling eyes on Mace. “Hey, Mace,” she added. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”
“Same as usual,” Mace replied easily. “You?”
“I landed that full-ride scholarship I was after,” Cindy answered proudly, looking over one shoulder as she led the way to a window-side table. “I’m majoring in agriculture.” A pause. “Maybe you’ll give me a job at Mountain Winery after I graduate?”
Mace chuckled. “Maybe,” he said. “Depends on your grades.”
Kelly, he noted, was taking in the exchange with amused interest as she walked beside him, though she said nothing.
“My grades?” Cindy asked. “Mace Carson, you know darn well I’ve had a 4.0 average for the last four years.”
“That was high school,” Mace teased. “College is harder.”
Cindy was cheerfully scornful. “I can handle college,” she said, keeping her voice down as they wove between tables, each one occupied by locals or resort guests or some combination of the two. “And I’m serious about working at the winery after I get my degree.”
“Fine and dandy,” Mace said. “But graduation is a ways off, isn’t it? A lot of things could happen between now and then. You might decide working at a winery isn’t for you, once you’ve seen how many other options there are. And you’ll meet plenty of guys, too—a lot more than you have here in the old hometown. Suppose you run into Mr. Right, and he has plans that don’t mesh with yours?”
“No way that’s going to happen,” Cindy said with the unshakable optimism of a sheltered kid raised in a small town. “I’m coming back here after college and marrying Jimmy Trent.”
Jimmy Trent was Cindy’s high-school boyfriend; he was a couple of years older than she was, and he’d joined the air force on his eighteenth birthday. Last Mace had heard, he was in flight school. Once his enlistment was up, he hoped to work for one of the major airlines and, after he’d racked up enough hours, open a small charter operation.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mace saw Kelly smile again, although she still kept whatever she was thinking to herself. She didn’t know Jimmy was in the service and might be deployed to a war zone as soon as he finished his training.
“All I’m saying,” Mace persisted mildly, “is that things can change.”
Not surprisingly, Cindy wasn’t convinced. “Not for Jimmy and me,” she said. “We have goals and we know how to reach them. Plus, we’re meant to be.”
“I hope you’re right,” Mace said. And he meant it.
He should’ve realized his friend’s kid sister thought she and Jimmy had their future locked in; she was too young and, after her solid upbringing, too innocent to understand how tricky life could be.
Cindy rolled her eyes, smiling that sweet smile of hers. “You sound just like Mom and Dad and Mike,” she said. Mike was her brother, more than a dozen years her senior. Mike worked for Fish and Wildlife, and he and Mace went way back.
“Yes,” Mace agreed, sitting down. “And maybe you ought to listen to our advice.”
Fat chance. He’d been Cindy’s age once and, back then, he’d known everything there was to know, and then some.
Cindy handed Kelly a menu and gave one to Mace. “Next, you’re going to say Jimmy and I ought to let things unfold,” she said with more than a hint of sarcasm, “instead of mapping out our whole lives in advance, because we’re both going to have a lot of new experiences and meet a lot of new people.”
“That’s about the size of it,” Mace said with a grin and a shake of his head. Might as well change the subject, since he was getting nowhere with this kid. “What’s the special today?”
“Mushroom risotto with baked chicken breast,” Cindy answered, waiting. “Aren’t you going to warn me about fast-talking college boys with only one thing on their minds?”
Kelly’s eyes sparkled as she watched him over the top of her menu, and he could see she was trying not to laugh.
“Would it do any good?”
“It would be a waste of breath,” Cindy responded briskly. “I’m not interested in any guy but Jimmy.”
“Right,” Mace said with, he hoped, the appropriate note of cheerful skepticism.
Cindy’s smile didn’t falter, but then it rarely did. “You dated the same person all through college,” she said. “Her name was Sarah, wasn’t it? She came back to Mustang Creek with you a couple of times, during Christmas break.”
Mace stole a glance at Kelly and saw that she was leaning forward slightly, a tiny smile curving her mouth, one eyebrow raised.
“And look how well that turned out,” he said.
“Oh.” For once, Cindy was taken aback.
“Yes,” Mace said matter-of-factly. “Oh. Any chance of getting something to eat in the near future?”
Cindy had the grace to look embarrassed, but although her smile wobbled a little, it held. “Would you like a drink while you’re looking at the menu?” she asked, finally remembering, evidently, that she had a job to do.
Mace met Kelly’s gaze and raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“We’ll definitely want wine,” Kelly said, speaking for the first time since they’d stepped up to the podium at the restaurant’s entrance. “Something with the Mountain Winery label, of course. In the meantime, I’ll have a glass of unsweetened iced tea, please, with lemon and lots of ice. Later, when we know what we’re having to eat, we’ll decide on the wine.”
“Coffee for me, thanks,” Mace added, relieved at the change of subject.
Cindy bustled away.
“What’s good here?” Kelly asked, studying the menu. “I love risotto, but I’m not in the mood.”
Mace grinned. “Everything is good,” he replied.
Kelly smiled. “That really narrows it down,” she said, meeting his eyes and then revisiting the choices listed. “The lobster salad sounds tasty.” A slight frown creased her otherwise smooth forehead. “Of course, we’re a long way from the ocean, so seafood might be risky.”
“Not here,” Mace said. “Stefano has his lobsters flown in from Maine, alive and kicking—so to speak.”
Kelly winced briefly, probably imagining the cooking process. “There really is a Stefano?” she asked. “It’s not just the name of the restaurant?”
“There is most definitely a Stefano. He’s a master chef and he happens to own this place.” He paused. “The restaurant, which is a five-star establishment, by the way. Not the resort.”
“And he wound up in Mustang Creek, Wyoming?” Kelly asked with a teasing note in her voice.
Mace leaned closer. “Yep,” he drawled, smiling. “Strange as it might appear, he prefers snowcapped mountains and wide-open spaces to concrete and skyscrapers.”
“I’m going with the lobster salad, then,” Kelly said. “What about you?”
“I’m a sucker for Stefano’s prime rib. It’s excellent.”
“Then we’ll order red wine and white,” she said. “You choose, since you’re the expert.”
Cindy returned with the iced tea and coffee. “I’ll bring over a basket of rolls in a minute or two,” she said, her smile as bright and genuine as ever. “One of the guys in the kitchen is taking a fresh batch out of the oven.”
“Yum,” Kelly said, the tip of her tongue slipping out to moisten her lips.
Mace shifted in his chair, cleared his throat. Just like that, he’d gone as hard as a railroad spike.
“Do you need more time?” Cindy asked. “Or shall I take your orders now?”
“May I?” Mace asked Kelly, glad the lower half of his body was hidden by the tabletop and its pristine white cloth.
Kelly nodded, almost shyly. “Please,” she said.
He ordered the lobster salad for Kelly, prime rib with all the trimmings for himself, along with glasses of his best cabernet and the award-winning pinot grigio he was so proud of. At his recommendation, both were among a group of popular house wines available by the glass as well as the bottle.
“Now,” he said, when Cindy had moved away, “let’s hear your proposal.”
Kelly looked alarmed for a moment, a reaction Mace enjoyed while it lasted. “Oh,” she said. “Yes.”
“Or,” Mace went on smoothly, before she had a chance to launch into whatever pitch she planned to make, “we could enjoy our lunch, get to know each other a little and talk business later. I’d like to show you the winery this afternoon, if you’re up to it. That way, you can experience the place firsthand.”
Kelly glanced down at her expensive, take-no-prisoners outfit with uncertainty. It was perfect for a boardroom, no argument there, but a working winery and acres of dusty vineyards? Not exactly.
“You’ll want to check out the grapes,” he added when she said nothing.
The hesitation was over. “I’d like that,” she said quietly.
Mace smiled, as pleased as if she’d agreed to go skinny-dipping in a sun-dappled creek. He let his gaze rest on the lace peeking from beneath her jacket, then looked quickly away. “You ought to swap out those clothes first, though. We’re talking behind the scenes here, not just the tasting room. Comfortable shoes will save you a few blisters, too.”
He fell silent. For a long interval, they simply stared at each other, something invisible and yet entirely real arcing between them.
Mace couldn’t have said what was going through Kelly’s mind, but he was picturing her upstairs in her room, with the shades drawn, slipping out of that perfectly fitted pantsuit, taking off the slacks, the jacket, the lace-trimmed top, slowly revealing her shapely legs and arms. He put the image in freeze-frame before she got to her bra and panties, which were probably skimpy enough to be sexy as hell, because his groin, already giving him trouble, had turned to granite.
At this rate, they’d be at their table for the rest of the day, just so he wouldn’t have to stand up and let Kelly see how much he wanted her. If it came to that, he decided, he’d “accidentally” spill a glass of ice water into his lap, or maybe a whole pitcherful.
He drew a series of deep breaths.
Kelly, still looking directly into his face, fiddled with her napkin.
Cindy broke the spell by delivering the promised bread basket and, soon after that, two glasses of wine.
Kelly’s hand trembled almost imperceptibly as she helped herself to a roll. “Still warm,” she said, somehow combining a sigh and a croon as she spoke. She split the bun between her fingers, and steam escaped, along with the familiar yeasty aroma. Then she reached for a butter knife.
It was such an ordinary, everyday thing to do, buttering a dinner roll, and yet there was an erotic element to her movements that struck Mace like a body blow, forcing him to look away. Again. Just as he recovered his equilibrium and turned to face her again, she took a bite.
“Mmm,” Kelly murmured, eyes closed. “Delicious.”
Barely suppressing a groan, Mace shut his eyes, too. Get a grip, Carson, he told himself.
“Is something wrong?” Kelly asked after a second or two, with a note of genuine concern. Clearly, she was unaware of the effect she was having on her potential business partner.
“I’m fine,” Mace said. The lie came out sounding hoarse, but if Kelly noticed, she didn’t let on.
“I love fresh bread,” she added with a blissful sigh.
Cindy returned, bringing Kelly’s lobster salad and his prime rib. Mace was relieved by the interruption, and although he’d lost his appetite somewhere along the line, he picked up his knife and fork.
Kelly smiled with a hint of sadness as she watched the girl walk away, resuming her duties. “I was like that once,” she said softly. An instant later, her expression made it obvious that she regretted the remark.
Mace forgot his own concerns as he studied Kelly’s face. “You were like what once?” he asked, reaching for his cabernet.
She lowered her eyes for a moment, raised them again. Their gazes connected.
The charge reminded him of the business end of a cattle prod.
Kelly’s spine was straight as she raised her shoulders on an indrawn breath and then looked down again. “Full of plans, I guess,” she answered reluctantly. “You know. Convinced that things would turn out the way I expected.”
Mace gave a slight, rueful smile. “I can relate,” he said.
She paused, a forkful of lobster salad halfway to her mouth. “You can?” She seemed surprised. “Are you telling me you’re disappointed in your life?”
Mace shook his head. “It’s not that. I love what I do. Love living on the ranch—it might sound corny, but the place is literally in my blood.” He paused, then went on. “There isn’t much I would change.”
“But there is...something?”
He sighed. He’d opened himself up to that question, he supposed. “I always figured I’d have a wife and kids by now,” he admitted.
She took that in, quietly chewing the food she’d just put in her mouth.
“What about you?” he asked. What dimmed your light, Kelly? Was it the attack, that night on campus? Or something that happened afterward? “You said you were ‘full of plans’ once.”
Kelly looked uncomfortable as she swallowed the bite of food, then took a sip from her wineglass. She smiled with an effort, a kind of fragility that tugged at Mace’s insides. “The usual things. Life in general, I guess.”
“Can you be more specific?” he asked.
She dodged his words neatly. “You wanted to be married, start a family?”
Mace smiled. “Nice try,” he said. “But the conversational ball is still in your court, isn’t it?”
Kelly sighed, put down her knife and fork. Pondered her reply. “I guess so,” she said, speaking so softly that Mace had to strain to hear. She went on, after more consideration. “Like I told you, I was married for a little while. My husband was a decent guy—he never cheated or anything like that. It was just that we wanted...different things, Alan and I.”
“Such as?”
“I wanted a few more years to build my career. Alan wanted children right away.”
“You didn’t want kids?”
“I did,” Kelly said. “But we were so young, just getting started. I thought we should wait until we were on solid financial ground, with a house and a bank account and everything.” She fixed her gaze on something beyond the window beside their table. “That was the agreement from the beginning,” she added. “I wasn’t asking Alan to wait forever, just until we were ready.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Mace told her.
Kelly nodded. Her eyes were somber, even a little misty. “I thought so,” she agreed, dropping her gaze to her salad. Picking up her knife and fork once more. When she looked at Mace again, she’d rustled up a flimsy smile. “Your turn.”
Mace ached for her, but he returned her smile. “Fair enough,” he said. “But there isn’t a whole lot to tell.”
“Sarah,” Kelly prompted gently. Thanks to Cindy, that much of his personal history was out in the open, anyway.
“Sarah,” he confirmed. “We dated in college.”
Kelly waited, saying nothing.
Mace had always kept his own counsel, especially where his love life was concerned, but for some reason, with this woman he hardly knew, he found himself talking.
“We were in some of the same classes, freshman year, and we just sort of gravitated toward each other as time went by. Maybe it was because we had some things in common—Sarah grew up on a farm, I was raised on a ranch—and I think we both felt a little out of our element at the beginning, a couple of country kids on a crowded campus in a major city, a long way from home.”
“Did you love her?”
Mace weighed his answer. “I thought so at the time,” he told her. “I was pretty torn up when she called it off, but looking back, I know she was right. I have two older brothers, and they’re both married to incredible women. Seeing Slater with Grace and Drake with Luce—short for Lucinda—completely happy, sharing everything and starting families... Well, that got me wondering if I’d ever actually known what real love was like.”
Kelly smiled a soft, sad smile. “My parents are crazy about each other,” she said. “I used to think every marriage was like theirs.”
Mace wanted to take Kelly’s hand, but something stopped him. “Mine were pretty tight, too, as I recall,” he told her. “But our dad died when my brothers and I were young, and our mother never remarried. She’s a great mom, and she certainly taught us to admire and respect women, but when it came to love between a man and a woman, we didn’t have a whole lot to go on.”
Kelly nodded and her eyes misted over, although she was quick to blink the moisture away. “Sorry,” she said.
Mace knew she’d run into some kind of emotional roadblock, and he wasn’t going to push her past it. After all, this was supposed to be a business meeting, if an informal one.
True, Kelly had been the one to get the conversational ball rolling, but she probably hadn’t expected things to get so heavy, so soon. It was time to lighten up, get outside, soak up some sunshine and breathe some fresh air.
He pushed his plate away. “I’m about finished here,” he said. “How about you?”
Kelly surveyed her half-eaten salad with a combination of relief and regret. “I’m definitely full.”
“In that case, why don’t you head on upstairs and change your clothes? I’ll sign the check and meet you in the lobby in a few minutes.”
Kelly’s eyes, tearful a minute before, glinted with a sort of mischievous triumph. “I’ve already taken care of it,” she said.
Mace laughed and spread his hands in good-natured surrender. “So much for my reputation as a macho cowboy,” he said. “By nightfall, everybody in Mustang Creek will know I let a woman pick up the lunch check. For all practical intents and purposes, I’m ruined.”
Kelly made a face, retrieving her handbag from the floor beside her chair. “Oh, well,” she teased. “I’m sure you’ll reestablish your alpha-male status in no time.”
Exactly what, Mace wondered, as he rose to pull back her chair, did that mean?
Had it been a gibe—or an invitation?
Most likely neither, he decided. He was doing that nuance thing again.
As he and Kelly walked toward the exit, and the lobby beyond, Cindy hurried to catch up.
“Was something wrong with the food?” she asked in an anxious whisper.
Mace waited for the ever-present smile to slip from Cindy’s face, but it didn’t.
“Everything was great,” Kelly said, quick to reassure her. “Really. I guess we just got too caught up in...talking business.”
Cindy seemed pleased. And reassured. Stefano, the chef‒restaurant owner, was notoriously sensitive about his creations, and when plates came back to his kitchen with leftovers on them, he tended to fret. In fact, he’d been known to confront retreating diners in the lobby or even the parking lot, offering free meals, wanting explanations.
Mace waited until they’d reached the lobby to call Kelly on the fib. “That was ‘talking business’?” he asked with a grin.
Kelly didn’t miss a beat. “No,” she admitted brightly. “But I did enjoy the wine.”
With that, she turned and made for the elevators.
