Don’t Call Me Sweetheart (12 page)

“Let me help you then, Whitney,” Stephan crooned to her as
he tenderly stroked her face with the back of his smooth knuckles. “We can get
past this together.”

Whitney let her cheek rest against his fingers, closing her
eyes, longing for it to be that simple. But it wasn’t. A black-eyed devil had
entered her life and eliminated her chance to be with another man. What made it
unbearable was that he didn’t know, or care, that he had done so. Even as she
leaned against Stephan for support she couldn’t block the memory of the way
Christian’s body had felt pressed intimately against hers. No matter how hard
she tried, she couldn’t exorcise him from her thoughts, her memories, her
dreams.

“Where were you a year ago, Stephan?” Whitney whispered
brokenly. “Why couldn’t I have met you first?”

“I wish you had, sweetheart,” Stephan answered sadly. “I
wish you had.”

“I was serious about not seeing you for while, Stephan,”
Whitney went on wretchedly. “It’s not fair to you to make you think I might
change. Find someone who can make you happy.” Lifting her eyes to his she
finished by saying with regretful finality, “I don’t think I ever will.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that? I can’t just
stop seeing you, Whitney. I’ve come to care very deeply for you, so don’t ask
me to stop.” He pulled her to him, holding her tightly as if he would never let
her go. “We’ll take it day by day, just as we have since last summer. And I
promise not to take advantage of you again.”

“You didn’t take advantage of me. I started that kiss if you
recall,” Whitney corrected him.

“A true gentleman would never hold a lady accountable for a
situation that was out of her control,” Stephan answered her in a cool, even
tone, the hint of a smile dispelling some of the tension within her.

We know one who would.

“All right but I need a few days to collect my thoughts. I
have a lot to sort through and I think the time has come for me to deal with my
demons.”

“A few days, no more,” Stephan agreed, placing a chaste kiss
against the silky strands of her hair before releasing her and retrieving the
forgotten movie from the VCR. As he turned to leave, he flashed an encouraging
smile at her, heartened to see a tentative one grace her lips in response.

The next day Whitney’s demon came calling.

As the gleaming silver jet made its final approach to the airport
north of Tacoma, Christian scanned the familiar horizon. The grand Cascades
rose majestically along the skyline, silent sentinels throughout the centuries
and a welcome sight to a man who had been away from home too long. It was good
to be back.

The months spent in New York had left a bitter taste in his
mouth and he was glad to put them behind him. He hadn’t thought he would be
able to work past the summer, especially after talking to the new owner of the
inn, a conversation he vaguely remembered. He’d downed enough whiskey that
night to know he’d made the call but he couldn’t remember a word that was said.

It hadn’t mattered because he had still been well short of
his financial goal. With no other options he had forced himself to continue
modeling for romance novel covers. The money had been too good to walk away
from. Christmas had come and gone though and Christian had found the prospect
of working into the new year about as appealing as the decision to sell his
home had been.

Thinking about Mountain Meadow Inn made him feel better, as
always. Thoughts of being in his own comfortable rooms after months of living
in a cramped apartment refreshed him as little else had since he had left from
this same airport nearly a year ago. Had it really been a year since his
parents’ death and the loathsome decision to leave had been forced on him? Christian
thought back to when he had arrived in New York at the beginning of March the
previous year and how he was now returning to Reflection Ridge in mid-February
of the next, still short of his goal but willing to cross swords with the new
owner in order to regain possession of his home and a life he could once again
be proud of. The attention he had endured as a model had been tolerable but
removing his clothes and making love to a camera lens with different women each
day had left a vile feeling coiled in his gut like a poisonous serpent,
consuming his pride and leaving him feeling little like the man he knew he was.
Funny how woman looked at the end result of his work with just the opposite
reaction, seeing the virile fantasy, the ultimate male specimen.

Switching his thoughts to the business he had to admit that
it was apparently thriving under the short-term owner’s tutelage and Stephan
had told him that he would be quite impressed with the changes she had implemented.
He should have made time to ask again what her name was. Somehow Stephan had
always avoided mentioning it, referring to her as simply “the new owner” or “the
present owner”. Christian searched his memory, trying in vain to recall the
name of the woman who had purchased the inn. At the time he had signed the
papers, he had been so beside himself, agonizing over the chain of events that
was forcing him to take the drastic step, he had failed to register the name. Then
it hadn’t mattered, he was too busy using the extra time to meet his goal. Now
it did.

Oh well. He’d find out soon enough.

It galled him to no end to know that he was not only going
to have to ask a stranger to sell the inn back on the anniversary of the date
of sale as per their agreement but also allow him to finance the remainder of
the purchase price, as he was shy by nearly twenty thousand dollars. He hoped
that whoever she was had made the investment strictly as a business venture, a
passing fancy in her indulgent existence. Once she was made aware that his was
a personal attachment, she would surely agree to his offer. He’d see to it that
she did. There was no way in hell that he wasn’t going to get his land back.

The plane landed and Christian wasted little time collecting
his baggage and retrieving his truck to make the drive home. He made his way
onto Highway 410 and was soon headed east toward all that was familiar, everything
that mattered in his life. He drank in the beautiful spectacle of snowcapped
summits in the distant north as he drove along, marveling as he always did at
their incredible majesty. He had missed their presence in his life, just as he
had missed seeing the rolling forests of cedar, hemlock and Douglas fir
stretching as far as the eye could see. What would Whitney think of his
mountains? he wondered.

It seemed she was never far from his thoughts even after so
long. Catching his reflection in the rearview mirror he found himself looking
into the eyes of a man who knew he had lost something truly precious. Sadly he
shook his head to clear it of thoughts best left behind.

Despite his misgivings about Whitney, Christian could feel
the tension flow slowly out of him with each passing mile and he began to
relax. He decided he would enjoy a leisurely bath upon his arrival before
confronting the new owner. He wasn’t looking forward to meeting her but he
figured he might as well get that business out of the way as soon as possible. The
lady needed to know right up front that he wouldreclaim what was his. It
was too bad he would never claim a certain lady as his own.

In less than two hours he pulled into the driveway of his
home, drinking his fill of the sight the house presented, a sight that had kept
him performing for many long months when he had wanted nothing more than to
abandon the whole modeling idea. He had to admit it looked well-cared for and
the sight of several strange cars parked alongside the drive was a welcome one.
Paying customers were his bread and butter now. It was good to see that “the
new owner” had a nose for business.

Following the drive to the back of the inn he parked the car
in the garage alongside his Bronco. The sun had slipped well below the horizon
as he pulled his luggage from the trunk of the car and stomped through the snow
to the front porch. Inside, there was no one visible at the front desk to greet
him, a mistake he would see was not repeated. He hefted the suitcases higher
and made his way up the stairs leading to the master suite of rooms he had
taken over after his parents’ deaths.

Reaching the landing at the top, he located his key and
opened the door, pausing for a moment just inside the spacious sitting room
before he let his luggage drop heavily to the floor.

Something was wrong. The furniture was different and faint
strains of music could be heard from somewhere within. Curiously he turned his
head to better assess from where the sound originated. The connecting door
between the bedroom and sitting room was open and it was from that direction
that the music filtered. Between the two rooms was a large area that served as
both a walk-in dressing closet and bath. Glancing around, Christian’s eyes
narrowed as he spied a pile of discarded woman’s clothing just inside the door.
At a loss to understand why his rooms had been let out to a guest in his
absence, he added his coat to the pile.

Now there were two mistakes that he would have to see
corrected. He crossed the room with sure steps, intent on calling to the person
inside the bathroom and letting them know that they were in a private suite and
they would need to move their things as soon as alternate arrangements could be
made for them. He was not going to be put out of his own room for anyone.

As he stepped into the area between the adjoining rooms it
was evident that the music was coming from the bath portion of the large area,
housed behind its own door, which at the moment stood wide open.

Christian stared open-mouthed through the opening at the
vision reclining in the clawfooted tub he had ordered for his parents as a
special addition to their decor. In his wildest imagination he could have never
guessed he had only to return home to find the woman he had searched so hard
for, ready and waiting for him in his own bathtub.

Whitney laid relaxing in the bath, her eyes closed and her
slender arms draped lazily along both sides. Her long curls hung over the back
rim and it was the sight of that beautiful russet hair, cascading in long
ringlets nearly to the floor that set Christian’s blood pounding.

At that very moment, Whitney opened her eyes and saw the
devil incarnate standing at the doorway, a lecherous grin pasted across his
heart-stoppingly handsome face.

It was several moments before the scream tore its way out of
her throat.

It took a split second for Christian to bridge the distance
between himself and Whitney and clamp his hand firmly across her mouth,
effectively silencing her. Her green eyes spewed her hatred as pent-up rage
coursed through her. Now he bothered to show up? After so long? Why? And how darehe barge into her bath!

She clawed at his fingers where they held her in their iron
grasp but was unable to make her senses ignore the masculine scent of his hand
directly beneath her flaring nostrils. He seemed genuinely amused by her
efforts to free herself if the deep throaty laughter against her ear was any
indication. Suddenly the laughter broke off and was replaced by his sharp
intake of breathe. Whitney was mortified to see that the thick layer of bubbles
in which she had been soaking had parted and Christian was being afforded an
unobstructed view of her ivory breasts beneath the water’s surface. Her hands
flew to cover herself but the damage had already been done.

“Whitney,” her name was a ragged rasp. “I’m going to take my
hand away but you have to promise not to scream anymore. Will you do that?”

She adamantly shook her head but Christian steadfastly
maintained his hold, not convinced.

“If you make a sound—any sound—you’ll have a lot of
explaining to do because I’m going to tell everyone that you were waiting for
me to return tonight. The Walstens have known me nearly my entire life—who do
you think they’ll believe?”

The bastard! Whitney quickly weighed the ramifications of
his threat and decided that she stood to lose more than he did if she forced
his hand. She didn’t want word of this to reach Stephan.

Much more deliberately, she slowly nodded her head and this
time his hand slid away, his long, lean fingers caressing her neck as he drew
them away, sending shivers up and down her spine. Whitney twisted her upper
body to the side, carefully keeping herself covered as she did so, until she
was able to glare up into his obsidian eyes. He was only a few scant inches
away and she could see her reflection in the dark pools of his eyes. Her
naked
reflection.

“Get the hell out of my bathroom!” The words were like
granite, deathly cold in their intensity as she ground them out between
clenched teeth.

“Glad to see me too I see,” Christian commented dryly,
letting his eyes slide over her as he took note of Whitney’s changed
appearance. Her beautifully sculpted face, framed by the halo of her splendid
hair was even more lovely than he remembered. She was exquisite, an angel and
Christian found it hard to concentrate on anything beyond the charms he knew
lay within his reach beneath the quickly evaporating suds.

He had waited so long to clear the air between them though. Did
he really want to do that now that fate had brought her back to him? By the
looks of it she wouldn’t believe him anyway but what the hell. At least she
couldn’t accuse him of not trying. It never occurred to him that by forcing her
to sit naked in a cooling tub of water if he decided to go ahead and apologize
he would only be adding fuel to the fire.

Instead he ran his hand down the length of her hair where it
was draped over the edge of the bathtub before saying matter-of-factly, “No, I
don’t believe I’ll be leaving just yet. I’ve waited nearly a year to get this
off my chest so I think you’ll just sit there and listen to what I have to say.”
And just as soon as he said his piece he’d make her tell him just why she was
here.

“You could at least let me get dressed first!”

Whitney’s thoughts were a jumbled mess as she tried to sort
out why he was here. And why had he chosen tonight to return? Could it be that
he actually did have an interest in the place now that the anniversary of the
sale was fast approaching? Or had he simply tired of the fast-paced life of New
York City and had decided to come home to torture the poor little secretary who
had bought his business? Maybe that was it!

He couldn’t have known how it was possible for her afford
the inn, so he was here to get some answers, find out where her money came
from. Maybe he had heard she was wealthy, the exact opposite of his own
situation if she could believe what the Walstens had said, and now just like
all the others before him, he thought he could talk her into sharing it with
him. Was that why he hadn’t called first? He hadn’t wanted her to escape? Whitney
tried to convince herself that she had hit upon the correct explanation as she
waited impatiently for him to leave. But there he was, a devilish grin
plastered across his heartbreakingly handsome face as he stubbornly refused to
budge from where he was leaning insolently against the doorframe.

“No, I definitely like you better undressed,” Christian told
her lightly, letting his roving eyes stray across her naked shoulders and the
exposed tops of her breasts. “But that’s what got me into trouble the last time
we were together, and what brings me to say this. I was completely out of line
that night in New York and I’m sorry.”

Whitney watched and listened, humiliated beyond belief that
he wouldn’t allow her the common courtesy of dressing before he purged his
conscience. As she huddled under the tepid water, her feelings of loathing grew
tenfold.

Green shards of icy disdain greeted Christian when he met
her eyes and Christian felt his own temper flare irrationally. He was
apologizing, wasn’t he? What more did she want? A few brief kisses were hardly
enough to be this upset about! He wasn’t a man used to admitting his errors, it
didn’t sit well to have his efforts at atonement rejected.

“Is that all you wanted to say? Thatwas your
apology?” Whitney asked sharply. He hadn’t even mentioned ignoring her for the
past year.