Call Me Irresistible (40 page)

Meg wanted nothing more than to leave and never come back, but she had no car, and she couldn’t bear the idea of riding back with her parents before she’d had a chance to pull herself together. Torie seemed to be her best option, and she cast a beseeching look in her direction only to have Ted’s arm shoot out. “You stay right where you are.”

Each word had a jagged edge and icy point. He wanted a final showdown, and after all this, he deserved it.

Her father took Ted’s measure, then turned to her. “Do you have a car here?”

When she shook her head, he pulled out his keys and tossed them at her. “We’ll hitch a ride back to town and wait for you at the inn.”

One person after another began moving away. No one wanted to defy Ted, not even his mother. Francesca and Dallie led Meg’s parents to their Cadillac. As the cars began to leave, Ted walked toward the rusted sign, where he gazed out over the vast stretch of tainted land now stripped of all its future promise. His shoulders slumped. She’d done this to him. Not intentionally, but she’d done it all the same by staying in Wynette when every sign pointed to the absolute necessity of her leaving. Then she’d compounded her stupidity by falling so absurdly in love with the man least likely to love her back. Her self-indulgence had led to this moment where everything had fallen apart.

The sun hung low in the sky, etching his profile in fire. The last car disappeared, but it was as if she’d ceased to exist, and he didn’t move. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she forced herself to go to him. “I am so sorry,” she whispered.

She lifted her hand to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth, but he caught her wrist before she could touch him. “Was that
hot
enough for you?”

“What?”

“You think I don’t feel things.” His voice was hoarse with emotion. “That I’m some kind of robot.”

“Oh, Ted . . . That’s not what I meant.”

“Because you’re a drama queen, you’re the only one who’s allowed to have feelings, is that right?”

This wasn’t the conversation they needed to have. “Ted, I never meant for you to get caught up in this thing with Spence.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let him get away with assaulting you?”

“He didn’t exactly do that. I don’t honestly know what would have happened if Haley hadn’t shown up. He—”

“I sweat!” he exclaimed, which made no sense at all. “You said I never sweat.”

What was he talking about? She tried again. “I was alone at the swimming hole when he showed up. I asked him to leave, and he wouldn’t. It got nasty.”

“And the son of a bitch paid for it.” He grabbed her arm. “Two months ago I was getting ready to marry another woman. Why can’t you cut me some slack? Just because you jumped off the deep end doesn’t mean I have to jump right in, too.”

She was used to reading his mind, but not this time. “What exactly do you mean by ‘jump off the deep end’?”

His mouth twisted in scorn. “Fall in love.”

The words were so contemptuously uttered, they should have left blisters on his lips. She pulled away and took a step back. “I’d hardly call falling in love ‘jumping off the deep end.’ ”

“Then exactly what would you call it? I was ready to spend the rest of my life with Lucy. The rest of my life! Why can’t you get that?”

“I get it. I just don’t understand why we’re talking about this now, after what just happened.”

“Of course you don’t.” His face had gone pale. “You don’t understand anything about reasonable behavior. You think you know me so well, but you don’t know anything about me.”

One more woman who thought she understood Ted Beaudine . . .

Before she could get them back on track, he resumed his attack. “You brag about how you’re all emotion. Well, a big frigging round of applause. I’m not like that. I want things to make sense, and if that’s a sin in your eyes, then tough.”

It was as if he’d suddenly started spouting a foreign language. She understood his words, but not the context. Why weren’t they talking about the part she’d played in the disaster with Spence?

He swiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “You say you love me. What does that even mean? I loved Lucy, and look how meaningless that turned out to be.”

“You loved Lucy?” She didn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it.

“Five minutes after I met her, I knew she was the one. She’s smart. She’s easy to be with. She cares about helping people, and she understands what it’s like to live in a fishbowl. My friends loved her. My parents loved her. We wanted the same things out of life. And I’ve never been more wrong about anything.” His voice faltered. “You expect me to forget all that? You expect me to snap my fingers and make all that go away?”

“That’s not fair. You acted as if she didn’t matter. You didn’t seem to care.”

“Of course I cared! Just because I don’t go around broadcasting every emotion doesn’t mean I don’t feel them. You said I broke your heart. Well, she broke mine.”

A pulse ticked in his throat. She felt as if he’d slapped her. How could she not have known this? She’d been convinced he hadn’t loved Lucy, but the opposite was true. “I wish I’d realized,” she heard herself say. “I didn’t understand.”

He made a harsh, dismissive gesture. “And then you came along. With all your mess and all your demands.”

“I never made a single demand!” she exclaimed. “You’re the one who made demands, right from the beginning. Telling me what I could and couldn’t do. Where I could work. Where I could live.”

“Who are you kidding?” he said roughly. “Everything about you is a demand. Those big eyes—blue one minute, green the next. The way you laugh. Your body. Even that dragon tattooed on your butt. You demand everything of me. And then you criticize what you get.”

“I never—”

“The hell you didn’t.” He moved so quickly she thought he was going to hit her. Instead, he jerked her against him and shoved his hands under her short cotton skirt, pushing it to her waist, grabbing her bottom. “You think this isn’t a demand?”

“I—hope so,” she said in a voice so small she barely recognized it.

But he was already dragging her to the side of the gravel lane. He didn’t even allow her the courtesy of the backseat of his car. Instead, he pulled her down into a patch of sandy soil.

With only the blazing sun above them, he tangled his hands in her panties, tossed them away, and splayed her legs on each side of his hips. As he reared back on his heels, the sun fell hot on the vulnerable inner skin of her thighs. He never took his eyes off the moist softness he’d exposed even as his hands went to his zipper. He was out of control, this man of logic and reason. Stripped of his gentleman’s veneer.

The shadow of his body blocked the sun. He opened his jeans. She could have yelled at him to stop—could have pushed him off—could have smacked him in the head and told him to snap out of it. He would have. She knew that. But she didn’t. He’d gone wild, and she wanted to race into the unknown with him.

He reached under her and angled her hips so she had to take all of him. No drawn-out foreplay, no painstaking torment and exquisite teasing. Only his own need.

Something sharp scraped her leg . . . A rock dug into her spine . . . With a dark moan, he drove into her. As his weight pressed her into the ground, he shoved up her top and bared her breasts. His beard scraped her tender skin. An awful tenderness filled her as he used her body. Without courtesy, without restraint or civility. He was a fallen angel, consumed by darkness, and he took no care with her at all.

She shut her eyes against the blinding sun as he pumped inside her. Gradually, the wildness that had claimed him claimed her as well, but it happened too late. With a hoarse cry, he bared his teeth. And then he flooded her.

The harsh sound of his breathing rasped in her ears. His weight pushed the air from her lungs. Finally, he fell off her with a moan. And then everything was still.

This was what she’d wanted since the first time they’d made love. To break through his control. But the cost to him had been too great, and as he came back to himself, she saw exactly what she knew she’d see. A good man stricken by remorse.

“Don’t say it!” She slapped her hand over his bruised mouth. Slapped his jaw. “Don’t say it!”

“Jesus . . .” He scrambled to his feet. “I can’t . . . I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Jesus, Meg . . .”

As he pulled his clothes together, she jumped up next to him, shoved her skirt down. His face was twisted, agonized. She couldn’t bear to hear his tormented apology for being human instead of a demigod. She had to do something quickly, so she poked him hard in the chest. “Now that’s what I’ve been talking about all along.”

But he’d gone pale, and her attempt at deflection fell flat. “I can’t—I can’t believe I did that to you.”

She wouldn’t give up so easily. “Could you do it again? Maybe a little slower this time, but not much.”

It was as if he didn’t hear her. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

She hid behind bravado. “You’re boring me, Theodore, and I have things to do.” First she’d try to give him back his self-respect. Then she had to face her parents. After that? She needed to turn her back on this town forever.

She grabbed her panties and adopted a cockiness she was far from feeling. “I realize I have managed to royally screw up the future of Wynette, so stop messing around here and do what you do best. Start cleaning up other people’s messes. Find Spence before he gets away. Tell him you lost your mind. Say that everybody in town knows I’m unreliable, but you still let yourself get sucked in. Then apologize for fighting with him.”

“I don’t give a damn about Spence,” he said flatly.

His words struck terror in her heart. “You will. You really, really will. Please. Do what I say.”

“Is that asshole all you can think about? After what just happened . . .”

“Yes. And it’s all I want you to think about. Here’s the thing . . . I need an undying declaration of love from you, and you’re never going to be able to give me that.”

Frustration, regret, impatience—she saw them all in his eyes. “It’s too fast, Meg. It’s too damned—”

“You’ve been more than clear.” She cut him off before he could say any more. “And no big guilt trip after I go. To be honest, I fall in and out of love fairly quickly. It won’t take me long to get over you.” She was talking too fast. “There was this guy named Buzz. I went through a good six weeks feeling sorry for myself, but, honestly, you’re no Buzz.”

“What do you mean, after you go?”

She swallowed. “Strangest thing, but Wynette’s lost its appeal. I’m taking off as soon as I talk to my parents. And aren’t you glad you don’t have to be around to witness that conversation?”

“I don’t want you to leave. Not yet.”

“Why not?” She studied him, looking for some sign she might have missed. “What am I supposed to stay around for?”

He made an odd gesture of helplessness. “I—I don’t know. Just stay.”

The fact that he wouldn’t meet her eyes told her everything. “Can’t do it, pal. I—just can’t.”

It was strange to see Ted Beaudine look so vulnerable. She pressed her lips to the undamaged corner of his mouth and hurried to the car that her ever-thoughtful parents had left for her. As she drove away, she allowed herself one last glance in the rearview mirror.

He stood in the middle of the road, watching her leave. Behind him, the vast wasteland of the landfill extended as far as the eye could see.

M
eg cleaned up in the bathroom at the Chevron station on the highway, wiping away the worst of the dirt and covering up her tear streaks. She dug into the suitcase she’d wedged into the small restroom for her boho top, a clean pair of jeans to hid the scratches on her legs, and a gauzy green scarf to conceal the beard burn on her neck. Since the first time they’d made love, she’d wanted him to be so overcome by passion that he’d lose his legendary control. It had finally happened, but not in the way she’d dreamed.

She let herself in through the service entrance at the inn. Birdie would never permit guests as famous as her parents to stay anywhere but the recently renamed Presidential Suite, and she climbed the back stairs to the top floor. Each step was an exercise in willpower. From the very beginning, she’d gotten it all wrong with Ted. She hadn’t believed he’d loved Lucy, but he’d loved her then, and he still loved her now. Meg was nothing more than his rebound girl, his temporary walk on the wild side.

She couldn’t let herself give in to the pain, not when she was about to face such an excruciating reunion with her parents. She couldn’t think about Ted, or her uncertain future, or the wreckage she’d be leaving behind when she drove away from Wynette.

Her mother answered the door of the suite. She still wore the tailored platinum tunic top and slim-legged pants she’d had on at the landfill. Ironically, her fashion model mother cared little about clothes, but she dutifully dressed in the exquisite outfits her brother Michel made for her.

In the background, Meg’s father stopped pacing. She gave them both an unsteady smile. “You could have told me you were coming.”