Summer Love - Page 60

She could think of nothing she wanted less than to go back into someone else’s firm, tallying figures, calculating profit and loss. So she wouldn’t. Rebecca sank into the chair as the thought struck home.

She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t go job hunting, carrying her résumé, rinsing sweaty palms in the restroom, putting her career and life in someone else’s hands again. She’d open her own firm. A small one, certainly. Personalized. Exclusive, she decided, savoring the word. Why not? She had the skill, the experience, and—finally—she had the courage.

It wouldn’t be easy. In fact, it would be risky. The money she had left would have to go toward renting office space, equipment, a phone system, advertising. With a bubbling laugh, she sprang up and searched for a legal pad and a pencil. She had to make lists—not only of things to do but of people to call. She had enough contacts from her McDowell, Jableki and Kline days. Maybe, just maybe, she could persuade some of her former clients to give her a try.

“Just a minute,” she called out when she heard the knock on the door. She scribbled a reminder to look for file cabinets as she went to answer. She’d much rather have some good solid oak file cabinets than a living room sofa.

She knew better than to open the door without checking the security peephole, but she was much too involved with her plans to think about such things. When she opened the door, she found herself face-to-face with Stephen.

Even if she could have spoken, he wasn’t in the mood to let her. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded as he slammed the door behind him. “Do you deliberately try to drive me mad, or does it come naturally to you?”

“I—I don’t—” But he was already yanking her against him. Whatever words she might have spoken dissolved into a moan against his lips. Her pad fell to the floor with a slap. Even as her arms came up around him he was thrusting her away.

“What kind of game are you playing, Rebecca?” When she just shook her head, he dug his hands into his pockets and paced the wide, nearly empty room. He was unshaven, disheveled and absolutely gorgeous. “It’s taken me two weeks and a great deal of trouble to find you. I believe we’d agreed to talk again. I was surprised to discover you’d not only left Athens, but Europe.” He swung back and pinned her with a look. “Why?”

Still reeling from his entrance, she struggled not to babble. “I thought it best that I leave.”

“You thought?” He took a step toward her, his fury so palatable that she braced herself. “You thought it best,” he repeated. “For whom?”

“For you. For both of us.” She caught herself fiddling with the lapels of her robe and dropped her hands. “I knew you were angry with me for lying to you and that you regretted what had happened between us. I felt it would be better for both of us if I—”

“Ran away?”

Her chin came up fractionally. “Went away.”

“You said you loved me.”

She swallowed. “I know.”

“Was that another lie?”

“Please don’t.” She turned away, but there was nowhere to go. “Stephen, I never expected to see you again. I’m trying to make some sense out of my life, to do things in a way that’s not only right but makes me happy. In Greece, I guess, I did what made me happy, but I didn’t think about what was right. The time with you was…”

“Was what?”

Dragging both hands through her hair, she turned to him again. It was as if the two weeks had never been. She was facing him again, trying to explain what she feared she could never explain. “It was the best thing that ever happened to me, the most important, the most unforgettable, the most precious. I’ll always be grateful for those few days.”

“Grateful.” He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or murder her. Stepping forward, he surprised them both by slipping his hands lightly around her throat. “For what? For my giving you your first fling? A fast, anonymous romance with no consequences?”

“No.” She lifted a hand to his wrist but made no attempt to struggle. “Did you come all this way to make me feel more guilty?”

“I came all this way because I finish what I begin. We’d far from finished, Rebecca.”

“All right.” Be calm, she told herself. When a man was this close to the edge, a woman’s best defense was serenity. “If you’ll let me go, we’ll talk. Would you like some coffee?”

His fingers tightened reflexively, then slowly relaxed. “You’ve bought a new pot.”

“Yes.” Was that humor in his eyes? she wondered. “There’s only one chair. Why don’t you use it while I go into the kitchen?”

He took her arm. “I don’t want coffee, or a chair, or a pleasant conversation.”

It seemed serenity wouldn’t work. “All right, Stephen. What do you want?”

“You. I’d thought I’d made that fairly obvious.” When she frowned, he glanced around the apartment. “Now tell me, Rebecca, is this what you want? A handful of rooms to be alone in?”

“I want to make the best of the rest of my life. I’ve already apologized for deceiving you. I realize that—”

“Deceiving me.” He held up a finger to stop her. “I’ve wanted to clear that point up myself. How did you deceive me?”