Can't Say No (18 page)

“Tacky.” Blake wrinkled his nose.

“But disposable.”

“Chef Luis would faint at the prospect of his food being eaten with plastic utensils, even though I'm sure the main course will be so tender it wouldn't matter.”

Audrey shook her head, then drew a crystal goblet from the basket and stared at him in dismay. “Waterford? Blake, do you have any idea how expensive this is? It's breakable, too.”

“That only matters, if we decide to throw it against a tree to solemnize a toast.” He grinned at her suggestively. “Do you have one in mind?”

She rolled her eyes at his audacity. “Doesn't money mean anything to you?”

His eyebrows rose. “Does it to you?” His words were weighty with significance.

She shot him an indignant look. “Of course not. I meant the opposite. Why are you wasting it on fancy frills like this?”

“A frill is something superfluous,” he protested. “I don't consider serving you an elegant meal in a lovely setting a waste of my money. You deserve to be treated like a lady. You will have nothing but the best to show you how much I care about you.”

Her eyes grew misty as Blake's words flooded her with warmth. It was such a contrast to the past, when she'd been doing all the giving. Perhaps it was time she learned to accept things graciously.

Blake must have sensed she was about to burst into tears, because he said briskly, “Now stop grumbling before the food gets cold. Chef Luis gets very testy, if his meals aren't served properly. It ruins the subtle bouquet of the spices or something.”

“What kind of food does this chef of yours prepare that it has to be treated so gingerly?”

“Mexican,” he said, opening a container of guacamole salad and waving it under her nose.

“Mexican?” she repeated incredulously. “You can get good Mexican at a fast food place with paper plates and plastic forks.”

“Not as good as this, I guarantee you.” He lifted the foil off a container of beef burritos, smothered in
picante
sauce and sour cream. “See what I mean.”

The minute the aroma reached her nose, Audrey's mouth watered and she stretched out a hand. Blake brushed it aside. “Oh, no, you don't. Hand me one of those plates. You are not eating this out of the pan.”

“Old habits die hard,” she retorted. “I swear to you it will taste just as good and I won't be terrified of chipping it and costing myself two months salary.”

Blake held the burritos just beyond her reach. “Do we need to have a serious talk about money? You seem hung up about it.”

“Mine,” she asserted. “Not yours. You can have all you want. I don't happen to have as much.”

“Then let me spend mine in a way that pleases me. I will gladly pay for any plates you chip.”

Before she could come back with a retort, he popped a forkful of the burrito into her mouth. Any temptation she might have felt to spit it back out in a gesture of protest died the moment the spicy flavorings hit her tongue. Yes, it was definitely time to accept things graciously. The shredded beef had just the right combination of cumin, onions and garlic. There was a sharp bite to the picante sauce and the sour cream provided a cooling contrast. It was heavenly and it didn't matter a hoot anymore that she was eating it with silver so elegant it could have been on the table for a formal state dinner at the White House.

“Wonderful,” she murmured, cautiously accepting the china plate from Blake.

He nodded in satisfaction. “I think I've found one way to shut you up,” he said.

“I didn't know that was one of your goals.”

“It only crosses my mind when you go into one of your stubborn acts. Food and kissing seem to be effective counterattacks,” he said, then peered at her thoughtfully. “I wonder if there are any others. I may need a more complete arsenal over the years.”

Over the years
. Nice phrase, she thought, as her pulse skipped happily. But then Blake was a sensitive man. If she'd doubted it when they met, she certainly didn't now, not after what he'd done for her tonight.

Not once since they left the motel had he mentioned what had happened between them in that room. Not once had he been anything but kind and gentle after she had withheld that final gift of herself. Perhaps it had been at that moment, when she had been sitting naked and shivering and embarrassed and he had apologized to her, perhaps it had been then that she had truly fallen in love. Dear heaven, let him be as patient as he was caring!

He tapped the edge of her plate with his fork to get her attention. “You're not eating.”

“I guess my mind wandered.”

His eyes narrowed and he touched her chin. “No unhappy thoughts tonight. Promise?”

He'd done it again. He'd read her mind and tried to take away the hurt. Audrey blinked back a fresh batch of tears. She gave him a faltering smile. “Promise.”

The whispered word was virtually drowned out by a crescendo of sound from the music tent. As night fell, trumpets and saxophones and, astonishingly enough from a jazz band, violins filled the air with a joyous, lively beat that had her tapping her toes. Haunting melodies followed, then intricate pieces with solos that were wild and uninhibited.

Lying back on their blanket, the stars bright above them, the aspens whispering in the breeze, Audrey was utterly at peace, lost in the music. Each song affected her in a different way, lifting her up, taking her down, playing her heart like one of the orchestra's instruments. It was the clear, high, rippling notes of a flute, rising over a background of subtle rhythms, that made her tremble so that Blake pulled her into his arms and held her tight. When the concert ended, she felt drained and deliriously happy all at once.

“That was wonderful,” she said with a sigh.

Oblivious to the people pouring from the music tent, Blake lowered his face to hers and kissed her, a slow, lingering, tender kiss that made music soar again, this time deep inside.

“I love watching you,” he said, gazing down into her eyes. “I think that's what I first noticed about you, the delight you take in everything. It's like watching a child when he first becomes aware of the world around him. Every discovery brings such amazement. Don't ever change. Don't become jaded and cynical.”

“Have you known a lot of cynical women?”

“Too many. They live too fast, get hurt too often and pretty soon they're hard or pretending to be. Sometimes it scares me that you might be trying to do the same thing, to protect yourself from another hurt.”

“No one likes to be hurt,” she said defensively.

“No, but there are better ways of handling it than shutting yourself off from the world. In the long run that's the greatest hurt you can suffer. Taking chances may bring you pain, but it's also the only way you'll ever find real happiness.”

His hand ran along the curve of her hip and lingered on her thigh. For Blake it seemed a casual, almost unconscious gesture, but it stirred Audrey's blood again.

“Enough philosophizing for tonight,” he said. “Let's get you back to your motel. I have another competition in the morning.”

“I suppose it's at dawn again.”

He grinned. “Absolutely. Do you plan to be there?”

“That all depends.”

“On what?”

She took a deep breath and said, “Whether you plan to stay tonight to make sure I wake up.”

He seemed to be avoiding her gaze, when he responded. “I saw all those clocks in your room. If those can't get you out of bed, nothing I can do will budge you.”

Audrey's heart slowed, then practically came to a halt. “You're not staying?”

“Oh, sweetheart, don't look like that,” he whispered, cupping her face in his strong, gentle hands. “It's not because I don't want to be with you. I just don't want to put you under any more pressure. Let's give this some more time. I want you to be sure that it's really me you want and not the challenge I represent. I want you to trust me.”

“But I do,” she protested.

“Not enough. A part of you still fears I'm going to control you. That's why you were so afraid to let go tonight. I think you felt you'd be losing yourself to me. I have to convince you that will never happen. I love the woman you are, including those traits that you see as weakness. I see them as compassion and generosity.”

She shook her head. “There's a very fine line between giving and being taken advantage of. I learned that the hard way.”

“Let me ask you this. When you do something for a friend does it make you feel good inside, whether you get something back or not?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then it couldn't be so wrong, could it? When you did things for this Derek, what was your motivation?”

“To show him how much I loved him.”

“Then what was so terrible about that?”

“He hated me for it. He thought I was weak. He wanted somebody stronger.”

Blake winced at her bitterness. “He was a fool. Loving someone, caring what happens to them, being generous with your time and your affection and asking nothing in return makes you a very special person. There are always going to be users in the world, people who'll take advantage of someone like you. They're the ones who need to be ashamed, not you.”

“Intellectually I know you're right, but I felt so used, so incredibly stupid.”

“You were used, but you were never stupid. It happens to a lot of people. You were merely blinded by love. You couldn't see that Derek was taking everything and giving nothing back. For some reason people like that always wind up resenting the person they've abused. As long as they're around, it's a reminder of their own faults.”

She stared at Blake in bewilderment, then dawning understanding. It was as though the film of confusion and hurt had been stripped away, leaving clarity for the first time, clarity and a sense of peace. “Are you saying that Derek left me because I made him see himself too clearly?”

“Something like that.”

“Why couldn't I see that before?”

“Time and distance. You were too busy believing all those things he said about you to stop and wonder why he said them. That's another reason we need to take our time. I want you to know the kind of man I am. I will never take advantage of you, but my saying it isn't enough. I have to prove it to you.”

“And you think you can do that?”

“I know it. I'm going to start by depositing you at the door of your room with a chaste kiss on the cheek and then I'm going back to my room and take a very cold shower.”

“What happened to that togetherness shower you promised me?”

He grinned at her. “Keep it in mind. Anticipation is a wonderful thing.”

* * *

Anticipation—she had another word for it—kept her awake all night. For the first time in her life, Audrey had no difficulty waking at dawn. She was actually humming as she drove to the rodeo grounds.

It was John Harley who spotted her first. “Hey, missy. I was afraid we might have scared you off after what happened on Friday. It's great to see you back.”

“Thanks.”

Blake looked up at John's greeting and smiled, his eyes filling with warmth. Then, he bent back over the propane tanks and went back to work without a word. A shiver of uneasiness slid down her spine. The look in his eyes had been welcoming, but then he'd seemed so distant, as though last night had never happened.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she offered.

Harvey, out of breath and puffing, came hurrying up just in time to hear the question. He linked his hand through her elbow. “You can come with me.”

She dug in her heels. “I'm on vacation.”

He glowered at her. “I'm not asking, Audrey. I'm telling you. Come with me.” She looked toward Blake, but he was pointedly ignoring the scene.

She whirled around and stomped off. “Damn you, Harvey, this better be important.”

“Cool your heels, woman. I'm just trying to protect you. A reporter from one of those tabloids has been sneaking around town all night trying to pick up a line on you. If you're out there with Blake now, it'll be a dead giveaway and you'll be on the front page of that rag in every supermarket checkout line across America.”

She groaned. “Does Blake know about this?”

“Of course. We've been trying to send the guy off on a wild-goose chase all morning, but the kid's tenacious as hell. As long as you stick with me so I can say you're just here as a member of the public relations staff, he might not make the connection.”

“What connection is that?” a voice inquired from just behind Harvey. She could practically see the guy's smirk. “Is this the young lady everyone's been talking about?”

Harvey shot her a warning glance before plastering a jovial smile on his face and turning around. “Well, if it isn't Jake Brunetti again. How's the investigative reporting going?”

“Oh, I think I'm on to something now,” the man said, his knowing gaze traveling over Audrey in a way that made her feel as though she ought to go take another shower. “This wouldn't happen to be the young woman everyone on Marshall's team is so busy protecting?”

“I don't need any protection, Mr. Brunetti,” she said very, very quietly. The minute Harvey had mentioned the man's name she'd realized what they were up against. Jake Brunetti had a lot of big stories with tantalizing headlines. He got his information without much regard for ethics. “What about you? Are your lawyers still getting rich from your libel suits?”

She could practically feel Harvey tensing beside her. She was sure it he'd had a clear shot he'd have kicked her for taunting the man. She took a deep breath and tried to cool her temper.

“Sharp tongue,” Brunetti noted with a man-to-man glance at Harvey. “I can see why Marshall would want a piece of that action.”