Remember the Dreams (19 page)

❧

It wasn't the end of anything though. And Toni knew it.

Kyle had said he'd leave her alone—if she denied that she loved him. Well, she hadn't denied it, and he wasn't leaving her alone.

The first perfect white rose was delivered by Theresa at ten o'clock the next morning. Toni waited until her secretary had discreetly departed before opening the florist's card that had come with it. The challenging message was short, and definitely to the point.
Deny it
.

The card wasn't signed. But, then, it didn't have to be.

The second rose, white and perfect like the first one, was waiting for her when she returned from lunch. This time all the card said was,
Don't deny it
.

Why was he doing this to her?

Toni's elbows were propped up on her desk, and she let the card slip from her fingers to bury her face in her hands. Kyle would never understand. She could beg him, plead with him, try to make him see that she had to have the commitment of his love and the promise of stability. She couldn't live with him otherwise. But Kyle would never understand why she needed those things. She wasn't so sure she understood it herself. It was just some basic conviction that seemed pointless to question. Even if she went to him on his terms, her love alone wouldn't be enough to hold them together forever.

Her head hurt. The weight of the heavy coil piled on top of it wasn't helping either. She tucked a loosened strand back up into the side, and her hand fell limply to the desk.

Kyle liked her hair. So many times she'd watched the fascination in his eyes when he'd slowly remove the pins and tumble the long, pale tresses through his fingers. So many times he had taken that shimmering veil and buried his face in . . .

Pushing herself from the desk, she stood up and leaned against it. She'd been thinking about getting her hair cut to a more manageable length for quite a while. It took forever to wash and dry it. One of these days, she'd . . .

That unfinished thought joined the other.

One of these days nothing
, she reprimanded herself, and turned to pick up her phone.
You've been getting better at not putting things off, and you're not going to start backsliding now.

Jana would probably know of a good hairdresser, and Toni dialed the number automatically. There was no reason to look it up. It had been her own work number for a while—and was still Kyle's.

She didn't bother to wonder if it had been her thoughts of him, or the headache, that prompted her decision to make and keep the appointment she made for the following Tuesday.

❧

"Are you sure you wanted to do that?" Two minutes ago, Jana had been full of ego-boosting compliments. Now, she wasn't bothering to hide her skepticism while she eyed Toni's shoulder-length hair. "It takes so long to grow out, and it did look awfully nice when you wore it up."

"I can still wear it up," Toni defended lightly. "See?"

She swept her hand up the back of her neck to show Jana that she wouldn't have any trouble making a chignon out of it if she wanted.

Jana shrugged with a smile. "I suppose it probably doesn't feel anywhere near as heavy," she conceded, watching Toni give her head a quick shake and the curve of swingy, light blond hair fall back to her shoulders. "And it does make you look . . . well, softer, I think."

Toni's already husky voice lowered several notches. "Less like the tyrant of Wall Street?"

"How about more like a-college sophomore." Jana grinned at Toni's moan and ducked behind her menu.

Jana had insisted that Toni meet her at a nearby steakhouse after her hair appointment, and Toni was glad that she had. For once, she wasn't thinking about Kyle. Jana was good company—even if she did seem a little preoccupied. Toni couldn't help but notice that the petite brunette had developed quite a fixation with her watch, and the front door of the restaurant.

"I think I'd like another drink before we order." Jana folded her menu and signaled their waitress. "How about it?"

Toni was game. "Why not?"

Their second round of drinks was delivered and Jana was halfway through an amusing discourse on the unpredictable toilet habits of three-year olds when Toni glanced up to see

Todd talking with the young girl who had seated them. The girl was nodding toward their table.

She knew that Jana and Todd had gone out a couple of times, strictly on a casual basis— according to Jana, Todd had his eye on the new file girl Kyle had just hired—and she now knew why Jana had been watching the door.

"Todd's here." Toni smiled and watched Jana's head jerk sideways then quickly back.

Jana had a very strange look on her face. And when Toni looked back over at Todd, she knew why.

Kyle was with him.

"Toni, please," Jana said, seeing the look in Tonf s eyes that clearly spelled "traitor." "I told Todd I couldn't go out with him tonight because I was having dinner with you. He mentioned it to Kyle, and . . ."

"Hi, ladies." Todd's greeting lacked a little of his typical effusiveness as he slid into the booth next to Jana. "We got tied up in . . ." He cut off his explanation about why they were late when he looked over at Toni. "Hey! I like your hair!"

Kyle didn't. That was apparent enough by the scowl he was directing at Toni's head. He must have realized that his opinion wouldn't help his position any because he immediately softened his expression. "You don't mind if we crash this party, do you?"

Toni did mind. Very much. But Jana was already mumbling, "Of course not."

Toni had no choice but to move over and make room for him on her side of the table. She had perversely thought about just letting him stand there, but then decided that if that would make anyone look foolish, it would only be herself.

"You were saying that you got tied up?" Jana prompted, groping for some tidbit to latch on to.

"Traffic," Todd supplied, scanning Jana's menu. "It was worse than usual tonight, wasn't it, Kyle?"

"It's all the work they're doing on the streets." Kyle seemed impervious to the strain threading the conversation. He took off his tie and stuffed it into his jacket pocket, appearing quite unconcerned with the icy reception he was getting on his left. "Can I see your menu?"

Toni handed it to him. The feel of his fingers as they brushed against hers threatened to unravel the tenuous hold she had on her rapidly fraying nerves. There had been no fteed for him to touch her at all.

A taunting flicker of acknowledgment met his eyes as she quickly withdrew her hand. "Anything look good to you?"

You do, she sighed inwardly. "Not really."

She'd lost her appetite. And as soon as she could figure out how to do so gracefully, she'd leave. She should have left the second she'd seen him walk in. He wasn't being fair. Not to her. And certainly not to Jana and Todd by putting them in this awkward position. Kyle never had cared who got in his way when he was after something.

"Will you excuse me, please?" She managed a tight smile toward Kyle after she picked up her purse. She had to have a logical reason to make him move without arousing his suspicions, or causing a scene. There was only one thing she could think of that he couldn't argue with. "I have to go to the ladies' room."

The mistrust she expected lurked beneath the heavy slants of his dark eyebrows. But he did stand up—and offer her his hand.

Wanting to appear casual, she took it. She needed its support anyway.

The instant he released his grip—had he felt how badly she was shaking?—she headed straight for the door and out into the parking lot. Tomorrow she'd call Jana and find out how much she owed her for the drinks. Better yet, maybe Jana would stick Kyle with the bill.

"That was rude."

Toni didn't even break stride and continued to her car. She should have known that he would follow her. "Don't talk to me about being rude. What you just did was inexcusable."

"We were only going to have dinner with friends. What's so inexcusable about that?"

How could he be so insensitive? "Kyle, please ... I don't want to argue with you."

She stopped next to her car, fumbling with her keys.

Kyle stood beside her, his hands jammed into his pockets. "I don't want to argue either, princess."

Since her eyes were fixed on the lock of the door, she couldn't see his expression. She didn't have to though. The deep resonance in his voice told her more than she wanted to know.

"Then, don't say another word," she begged, and watched her keys fall to the ground. She grabbed them before Kyle could, but he was now standing much too close.

"Come back inside with me. We'll have dinner, then go someplace where we can be alone to . . ."

She tilted her head back to meet the soft plea in his eyes. "You're expecting far too much, Kyle. There's no way you and I can have a nice, chatty little dinner with friends when there's so much unresolved between us. We can't ask Todd and Jana to . . ."

This time he interrupted. "You're admitting that there's something between us that's still unresolved?"

She glanced away. "Unfortunate choice of words," she said, defensively, and tried to put her key into the lock again. "I'm not admitting anything."

Kyle's hand folded over hers, his other one settling on her shoulder. "You haven't denied anything either."

His touch was gentle, undemanding. And his fingers slipped easily through her cold ones.

She wished she could feel something besides the strange sense of the inevitable that was sweeping through her. There was only one way she could keep him from torturing her like this. Only one thing she could say that would finally make him leave her alone so the wounds would begin to heal.

There was a deep sadness in her eyes when she slowly uncurled her fingers and lifted them to trace the chiseled line of his jaw.

One last time she would touch him. One last time, she would feel that beautifully molded mouth against hers.

Raising her other hand, she pushed her fingers through the soft black hair at the back of his head and drew it toward her.

Kyle did nothing to discourage her. But he took no initiative either. His only response was to taste her lips as tenderly as she was tasting his, and to dig his fingers a little deeper into the jacket covering her shoulder.

She pulled away to meet the question smoldering in his eyes.

"You win," she conceded with a tremulous smile. "You said that all I had to do was tell you that I don't love you and you'd leave me alone." The keys in her hand bit into her palm, but that pain was nothing compared to the one twisting through her heart. She allowed herself one last look at his tightly held features, then turned away. "I don't love you, Kyle."

K
yle didn't try to stop her when she slid inside her car. But just as she closed the door, he jerked it back open.

"You're a lot better at denying yourself what you want than I am, Toni."

She drew a trembling breath and tried to put the key into the ignition. "It's impossible to deny yourself something you can't have."

"Did it ever occur to you that one of the things you want is something I can't give you?" A moment ago frustration had tinted his tone. Now, he sounded angry. "That it might be something I want, too, but. . . Oh, forget it," he grated, adding an imprecation she couldn't quite hear.

She jumped when, a second later, he slammed the door—confusion joining hurt as she watched him disappear back through the parking lot.

Three minutes ago she had wanted nothing more than to put physical distance between them. Now, it was all she could do to keep from running after him. Would her heart and her head ever come to terms?

❧

There wasn't a cloud in the sky on Saturday morning. It was one of those crisp fall days that invigorates the senses and heightens one's awareness to the change of seasons. The brisk, clean air reddened her cheeks and the faint smell of burning leaves made the rustle of those crunching beneath Toni's rhythmically pounding feet more noticeable somehow. It was a day to be shared. But the only person she wanted to share it with wasn't with her.

It was her own fault. If she had just left things alone, let their relationship remain the friendly, companionable one it had always been, none of this would have happened. She would still have Kyle to talk to.

As much as she missed being in Kyle's arms, she missed their sometimes bantering, other times serious, conversations more. She missed her best friend.

Leaving the jogging path, she cut across the play yard toward the duck pond. The squeals and laughter of the children tumbling down slides and begging their mothers to push them higher —"Higher, mommy!"—on the swings assailed her wind-numbed ears.

Children.

Years ago she had clung to an idealized fantasy of herself dressed in a frilly apron, tending to a nursery full of pink-cheeked babies while sending an imaginary husband off to work from a house in the suburbs. And over the years she had come to realize why she had conjured up that idyllic fantasy. She'd been an only child, one who'd spent most of her time in boarding schools, receiving little more than an occasional letter or gift from a mother who was never there. Her visions of domestic perfection had been nothing more than an escape from emotional loneliness.

Then she encountered the real world and a sense of practicality had taken over. The romantic lived on in her soul, but the dreams changed. She wasn't the frilly-apron type at all. The thought of spending all day cooped up with a houseful of children lost its appeal. She was a businesswoman, one with a much more realistic picture of the future. If she was ever blessed with a child, it would be because she and the man who shared her love needed to share it with another human being.

But the man she loved didn't love her. And as for a child . . .

She quickened her pace when she hit the path around the pond and tried to push the unwanted thoughts away. The track was filled with other joggers, and if any one of them paid any attention to the slender young woman in the lavender sweatsuit, they probably thought the tears she wiped from her eyes every fourth step were only caused by the cold.