Call Me Irresistible Part 28

"That ... basically covers it." She turned her cheek into his palm.

"There's something you're not telling me."

She turned her voice into a s.e.xy purr. "Babe, there's lots I'm not telling you."

He smiled and touched his thumb to her bottom lip. "You can't go running off by yourself. Everybody is trying to make sure you're never alone with him, but you have to do your part, too."

"I know. And believe me, it won't happen again. Although I can't tell you how much it bothers me that I'm the one who has to go into hiding just because some h.o.r.n.y zillionaire-"

"I know. It's not right." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "Just stay out of his way for a couple more days, and then you can tell him to go to h.e.l.l. As a matter of fact, I'll do it for you. You can't imagine how sick I am of having that clown run my life."

The feeling returned without warning. The sensation of something lying in wait for her. Something that had nothing to do with Haley Kittle.

The sky had grown darker, and the wind pressed her T-s.h.i.+rt to her body. "Don't you ... Don't you think it's odd that Spence hasn't heard about us? Or that Sunny hasn't heard? So many people know, but ... not them. Sunny doesn't know, does she?"

He glanced up at the clouds. "Doesn't seem to."

She couldn't get enough air into her lungs. "Twenty women saw you kiss me at that luncheon. Some of them must have told their husbands, a friend. Birdie told Haley."

"It figures."

The racing clouds threw his face into shadow, and the fruit she'd been trying so hard to touch came closer. She sucked in more air. "All those people know we're a couple. But not Spence and Sunny."

"This is Wynette. Everybody pulls together."

The fruit hung so close she could catch its scent, no longer pleasant, but fetid and cloying. "Such loyal people."

"They don't make them any better."

And just like that, she had the poisoned fruit in her hand. "You knew all along that n.o.body would say anything to Spence or Sunny."

A distant roll of thunder ... He craned his neck toward the video camera in the tree, as if he wanted to make sure it hadn't moved. "I don't understand what you're getting at."

"Oh, you understand, all right." She spoke the rest on a single, painful breath. "When you kissed me ... When you told all those women we were a couple ... You knew they'd keep it a secret."

He shrugged. "People'll do what they're going to do."

The fruit split open in her hands, revealing its wormy, rotten flesh. "All your talk about openness and honesty, about how much you hated sneaking around. I bought it."

"I do hate sneaking around."

The clouds rushed overhead, the thunder rumbled, and a wave of fury caught her in its grip. "I was so touched touched when you kissed me in front of everyone. So giddy that you were willing to make that kind of sacrifice. For me! But you ... when you kissed me in front of everyone. So giddy that you were willing to make that kind of sacrifice. For me! But you ... you you weren't risking a thing." weren't risking a thing."

"Wait a minute." His eyes flamed with righteous indignation. "You lit into me that night. You said what I did was stupid."

"That's what my head said. But my heart ... heart ... My stupid heart ..." Her voice broke. "It was singing." My stupid heart ..." Her voice broke. "It was singing."

He winced. "Meg ..."

The play of emotions on the face of this man who would never willingly hurt anyone was painfully easy to decipher. His dismay. His concern. His pity. She hated it-hated him. She wanted to hurt him as he'd hurt her, and she knew exactly how to punish him. With her honesty.

"I've fallen in love with you," she said. "Just like the others."

He couldn't hide his dismay. "Meg ..."

"But I don't mean any more to you than the rest of them. Any more to you than Lucy did."

"Hold it right there."

"I'm such an idiot. That kiss meant so much to me. I let it mean so much." She gave a harsh laugh that was mainly a sob, no longer certain which of them she was most angry with. "And the way you wanted me to stay at your house ... Everybody was so worried about that, but if it had happened, they'd have killed themselves covering for you. You knew that."

"You're making a big deal out of nothing." But he wouldn't meet her eyes.

She took in his strong, clean profile. "Just the sight of you made me feel like dancing," she whispered. "I've never loved a man like I love you. Never imagined the kind of feelings I have for you."

His mouth twisted and his eyes darkened with pain. "Meg, I care. Don't think I don't care. You're- You're wonderful. You make me ..."

He paused, searching for a word, and she sneered at him through her tears. "Do I make your heart sing? Do I make you feel like dancing?"

"You're upset. You-"

"My love is hot!" The words burst from her. "It's a burning thing. It boils and churns and runs deep and strong. But all your emotions are cool and spare. You stand on the sidelines where you don't have to sweat too much. That's why you wanted to marry Lucy. It was neat. It was logical. Well, I'm not neat. I'm messy and wild and disruptive, and you have broken my heart."

With a clap of thunder, the rain began to fall. His face twisted. "Don't say that. You're upset."

He tried to reach out to her, but she jerked away. "Get out of here. Leave me alone."

"Not like this."

"Exactly like this. Because you only want what's best for people. And right now what's best for me is to be alone."

The rain was falling more heavily now. She could see his internal scales working away. Weighing the pros and cons. Wanting to do the right thing. Always do the right thing. That's how he was made. And by letting him see how much he'd hurt her, she couldn't have hurt him more.

A crack of lightning split the air. He pulled her up the steps and beneath the overhang above the church doors. She jerked away. "Leave! Can't you at least do that?"

"Please, Meg. We'll sort this out. We just need a little time." He tried to touch her face, but when she flinched, he let his arm drop to his side. "You're upset. And I understand. Later tonight, we'll-"

"No. Not tonight." Not tomorrow. Not ever. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

"Listen to me. Please ... I have meetings all day tomorrow with Spence and his people, but tomorrow night, we'll ... We'll have dinner at my house where there won't be any interruptions. Just the two of us. We'll both have had time to think about all this, and we can talk it through."

"Right. Time to think. That's going to fix everything."

"Be fair, Meg. This has come out of nowhere. Promise me," he said roughly. "Unless you promise to meet me tomorrow night, I'm not going anywhere."

"All right," she said woodenly. "I promise."

"Meg ..."

Once again he tried to touch her, and once again she resisted. "Just go. Please. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

He studied her for so long she didn't think he'd leave. But eventually he did, and she stood at the top of the church stairs, watching him drive away in the rain.

When he was out of sight, she did what she hadn't been able to do before. She walked around the side of the church and broke a window. A single pane she could reach through to unfasten the latch. Then she shoved the window open and climbed into her dusty, empty sanctuary.

He expected her to meet him tomorrow night for a calm, logical discussion about her unrequited love. She'd promised him.

As a clap of thunder shook the building, she thought how easily that kind of promise could be broken.

In the choir loft, she found a pair of jeans Dallie and Skeet had overlooked when they'd packed up her things. There was still food in the kitchen, but she had no appet.i.te. Instead, she paced the old pine floor and thought of everything that had brought her to this moment. Ted couldn't change who he was. Had she really believed he could love her? How could she have thought, even for a moment, that she was different from the rest?

Because he'd shown her parts of himself he'd never shown anyone else, and that had made her feel different. But it had all been an illusion, and now she had to leave because staying here was impossible.

The thought of never seeing him again nearly made her crumple, so she focused on the practicalities. The old, irresponsible Meg would have jumped in her car that night and run off. But her new, improved version had obligations. Tomorrow was her day off, so no one would be expecting her at work, and she had time to do what she needed to.

She waited until she was sure Skeet would be asleep before she returned to his house. As his snores rumbled down the hallway, she sat at the desk in his office where she'd been working on her jewelry and picked up a yellow pad. She made notes for whoever would take over the drink cart, explaining how best to stock it, listing the preferences of the regulars, adding a few lines about recycling cups and cans. Maybe her job wasn't brain surgery, but she'd more than doubled the revenue from the drink cart, and she was proud of that. At the end, she wrote, A job is what you make it. A job is what you make it. But she felt foolish and crossed itout. But she felt foolish and crossed itout.

As she finished a bracelet she'd promised Torie, she tried not to think about him, but that was impossible, and by dawn, when she slipped the bracelet into a padded envelope, she was bleary-eyed and exhausted, sadder than she could ever remember.

Skeet was eating his Cap'n Crunch at the kitchen table, the sports page propped in front of him, when she came out. "Good news," she said, forcing a smile. "My stalker has been identified and neutralized. Don't ask me for details."

Skeet looked up from his cereal. "Ted know about this?"

She struggled against the wave of pain that threatened to drown her whenever she thought of never seeing him again. "Yes. And I'm moving back into the church." She didn't like lying to Skeet, but she needed an excuse to pack up her things without arousing his suspicions.

"Don't see why you need to hurry off," he grumbled.

As he returned to his Cap'n Crunch, she realized she'd miss the old curmudgeon, right along with a lot of other people in this crazy town.

Lack of sleep and too much pain had worn her out, and she'd barely started packing before she gave in and lay down. Despite her bleak dreams, she didn't awaken till early afternoon. She finished packing quickly but still didn't get to the bank until nearly three o'clock. She withdrew all but twenty dollars from her meager account. If she closed the account, every teller in the place would start quizzing her, and five minutes after she walked out the door, Ted would know she was leaving. She couldn't bear another confrontation.

The town's only mailbox sat by the front steps of the small post office. She mailed her drink-cart notes and her letter of resignation to Barry, the a.s.sistant manager. As she dropped in the envelope with Torie's bracelet, a car pulled into the no-parking zone. The driver's window slid down, and Sunny Skipjack poked out her head. "I've been looking for you. I forgot the club was closed today. Let's grab a drink so we can talk."

Sunny was all sleek efficiency with her s.h.i.+ny dark hair and platinum jewelry. Meg had never felt more breakable. "Not a good time, I'm afraid," she said. "I have a million things to do." Like get in my car and turn my back on the man I love so much. Like get in my car and turn my back on the man I love so much.

"Cancel them. This is important."

"Is it about your father?"

Sunny looked at her blankly. "What about my father?"

"Nothing."

A few people on the sidewalk stopped to watch, none of them trying to be discreet about it. Sunny, the busy executive, tapped impatient fingers on the steering wheel. "Are you sure you can't spare a few minutes from your busy schedule to discuss a possible business venture?"

"Business venture?"

"I've seen your jewelry. I want to talk. Get in."

Meg's plan for the future was foggy at best. She weighed the risk of postponing her departure for an hour against the benefit of hearing what Sunny had to say. Sunny might be a pain in the a.s.s, but she was also a smart businesswoman. Meg set aside her reluctance to enter an enclosed s.p.a.ce with another Skipjack and got in the car.

"Did you hear there was an article in the Wall Street Journal, Wall Street Journal, of all places, about Ted's contest?" Sunny said as she pulled out into the street. "Part of a series on creative approaches to charitable fund-raising." of all places, about Ted's contest?" Sunny said as she pulled out into the street. "Part of a series on creative approaches to charitable fund-raising."

"No, I hadn't heard that."

She drove with one hand on the wheel. "Every time one of those stories comes out, the bidding goes up. All this national attention is getting pricey, but I haven't splurged on anything for a long time." Sunny's cell rang. She slipped it under the sickle of s.h.i.+ny dark hair that swung over her ear. "Hi, Dad."

Meg stiffened.

"Yes, I read the memo, and I spoke to Wolfburg," Sunny said. "I'll call Terry this evening."

They talked for another few minutes about lawyers and the land deal. Meg's thoughts drifted back to Ted, only to be brought up short as Sunny said, "I'll have to check on that later. Meg and I are hanging out right now." She looked over at Meg and rolled her eyes. "No, you're not invited to join us. Talk to you later." She listened for a moment, frowned, then disconnected. "He sounded p.i.s.sed. What's up with you two?"

Meg welcomed the flood of anger. "Your father isn't good at taking no for an answer."

"That's why he's successful. He's smart and focused. I don't understand why you're giving him such a hard time. Or maybe I do."

Meg didn't want to have this conversation, and she regretted getting in the car. "You wanted to talk about my jewelry," she said as they turned out onto the highway.

"You're underselling. Your pieces are distinctive, and they have sn.o.b appeal. You need to reposition yourself for the high-end market. Go to New York. Use your contacts to meet the right buyers. And stop wasting your merchandise on the locals. You can't build a serious design reputation in East Jesus, Texas."

"Good advice," Meg replied as they pa.s.sed the Roustabout. "I thought we were going for a drink."

"Short detour to the landfill."

"I've already seen it, and I really don't want to go back."

"I need to take some pictures. We won't stay long. Besides, we can talk in private there."

"I'm not sure we need a private conversation."

"Sure we do." Sunny turned into the lane that led to the landfill. It had received a fresh coat of gravel since Meg was last here, the time she and Ted had made love against the side of the truck. Another wave of pain punched her in the chest.

Sunny pulled up next to the rusted sign, grabbed a camera from her purse, and got out, every gesture, every movement, purposeful. Meg had never met anyone so self-confident.

She wasn't going to cower in the car, and she stepped out, too. Sunny put the camera to her eye and focused on the landfill. "This is the future of Wynette." The shutter clicked. "At first, I was opposed to building here, but after I got to know the town and the people better, I changed my mind."

After you got to know Ted Beaudine, Meg thought. Meg thought.

She took more shots, s.h.i.+fting her angle. "It's really a unique place. The bedrock of America and all that. Generally, Dad's not crazy about small towns, but everybody's been so great to him here, and he loves being able to play with guys like Dallie and Ted and Kenny." She lowered the camera. "As for me ... It's no secret I'm interested in Ted."

"You and the rest of the female universe."

Sunny smiled. "But, unlike the rest, I'm also an engineer. I can meet him as an intellectual equal, and how many other women can say that?"

Not me, Meg thought. Meg thought.

She walked behind the landfill sign and pointed her camera toward the methane pipes. "I understand the technology that interests him." The shutter clicked. "I appreciate his pa.s.sion for ecology on both a scientific and a practical level. He has an amazing mind, and not many people can walk in lockstep with that kind of intellect."