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Authors: Vicki Lewis Thompson

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BOOK: The Heartbreaker
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“I came from TMC.”
“I was just there this afternoon.” She sounded out of breath. “Ernie didn't say anything about you coming home.”
Mike allowed himself a smile. “He didn't know. Hello, Beth. It's great to see you again, too. You're looking terrific, as always.”
Not even a glimmer of a smile answered his lame attempt at a joke. “What do you want?”
“World peace.” When she moved to close the door, he added, “and a few moments of your time.”
“I'm busy.”
He massaged the back of his neck and sighed. How he longed to walk away. Although her icy response was exactly what he'd expected, it was still ripping him to shreds inside. But he remembered two things—his promise to his father, who was, after all, a partner in this business, and her circle of glass hanging in the front window. He lowered his voice. “Dad told me about Huxford and his offer. You're not going to sign anything tonight, are you?”
“That is none of your business. Good night, Michael.”
He put out a hand to stop her from slamming the door in his face. “My dad's your business partner, correct?”
“That's correct.”
“I'm his chosen representative, which makes this very much my business.”
“Ernie sent you, then?”
“Yes. With a proposal. You owe it to him to listen.”
Her shoulders slumped and she glanced away. “He shouldn't be concerned about what happens with the cutter.” When she glanced up, the hardness was gone and anxiety shone from her eyes. “The doctors have warned him about stressing his system with unnecessary worry. He's supposed to stay calm and get better. Mike, he nearly—”
“I know.” The words made it past the tightness in his throat.
“I blame myself.” The words brimmed with misery. “We got a rush of orders, and I think maybe the pressure of getting them out brought this on.”
“Don't you dare do that.” His voice shook a little as the reality of his father's illness, a reality he'd been unwilling to face, set in at last. “He's been smoking those damned cigars since he was fifteen. And we won't even talk about his diet, all the ice cream, cheeseburgers, fries and shakes. This latest business venture didn't give him a heart attack, Beth. Don't even think it.” He watched her struggle. She obviously needed the comfort of his words but was afraid to let down her guard. His heart ached for her, for him, for all of them. “Look, I know you don't want to deal with me, but Dad asked me to come here tonight and talk about an alternate plan. I promised him I would.”
She hesitated a moment longer. “Okay, come in.” She stepped back from the door. “Colby and I were just finishing up our discussion.”
“Beth, you're not going to—”
“Not tonight. Besides, nothing can be done without your dad's signature, anyway. I was just planning to give Colby a few references, people who've had success using the cutter.”
“Oh.” He could have taken time for a shave, after all, he thought as he followed her into the studio.
 
BETH FOUGHT to stay composed as she introduced Mike to Colby Huxford. It was like introducing Indiana Jones to James Bond. The two were worlds apart in style and temperament. Beth could tell from the measured way they shook hands while keeping their expressions completely blank that they disliked each other on sight.
“Mike is Ernie Tremayne's son,” Beth said. “He guides scientific expeditions in the Brazilian rain forest.”
“Ah.” Colby pushed back the lapels of his suit jacket and propped his hands on his hips. “That explains the tiger's tooth, or whatever it is, around your neck.”
“Jaguar.”
“Whatever. Never felt the urge to go down there, myself. I hate snakes.”
“Really?” Mike said. “They always speak well of you.”
“Mike.” Beth sent him a warning glance.
“Never mind,” Colby said. “I'd be edgy, too, if I'd just left my father's hospital room. Damn shame about that, Tremayne.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Could be the best thing for this glass cutter, though. Handmade can do a much better job of realizing its potential than a small operation could ever dream of doing.”
“Apparently you don't know Beth and my father very well,” Mike said.
“We were doing fine until Ernie's attack,” Beth added. She realized she didn't like Colby any better than Mike did, but she couldn't afford to have the reputation of the Nightingale cutter tarnished so early in this new venture. “It's getting late,” she said to Colby, “and you still have a long drive back to Tucson. Let me give you those references so you can be on your way.”
“I'm in no hurry,” Colby said, glancing at Mike.
“Then I'll take the blame for ending the meeting.” Beth forced a smile. “I'm a little tired. I've had a long day.” She walked behind the counter and picked up the pen she'd dropped when she'd looked up to see Mike standing at the door. The pen shook in her fingers and she gripped it more tightly to write out the names and phone numbers of the customers who had agreed to serve as references for the cutter.
She noticed Mike wandering over to look at
The Embrace
hanging in the window, and she clenched her jaw. Of course he knew what it was. She'd just have to brazen it out.
That wasn't going to be easy, considering how she was reacting to his sudden arrival. Time was supposed to dull emotions, but one look into the knowing depths of those brown eyes and she was battling the same feelings of longing she'd fought most of her life. He would have to show up right now—unshaven, tousled and sexier than ever. She wondered if he'd killed the jaguar whose tooth hung on a leather thong around his neck. He seemed to bring the primitive lure of the jungle with him into the shop, but then, life had always been more exciting when Mike Tremayne was around. Despite his rotten character, she would always love him, which was something neither he nor Alana would ever find out.
Mike made no effort to create small talk with Colby, and that was fine with her. Instead he continued to wander around the studio examining her work. He'd been a fair stained-glass hobbyist as a kid, Beth remembered. Her father had helped them each make sun-catchers as Christmas presents one year, and Mike had turned out to be pretty adept at the process. Once he'd become a teenager, though, he'd abandoned the hobby as being too sissy. Alana had given it up, too, leaving only Beth, who'd become her father's apprentice. At times she'd envied Alana and Mike their freedom, but she'd cherished the special relationship she had with her father and Ernie, too.
She ripped the top page off the notepad, came back around the counter and handed it to Colby.
“I don't really need these, you know,” he said. “I'm convinced the cutter is good.”
“But you still don't know how good. Having you talk to our customers will let you know that. I don't want to discuss the cost of leasing the patent until you've checked with these people.”
“All right. I'll call your references. But you're the one who told me the cutter has to get back in production immediately.”
Her smile was grim. “I think we can wait another twenty-four hours.”
“Then you'll be ready to sign the papers if I come back tomorrow night?”
“I still have to convince Ernie that this is the best course of action, but assuming I do, yes, we can probably finalize everything tomorrow night”
“I'm sure you'll convince Ernie.”
“We'll see.” She'd love to have another option, but she couldn't afford the going rate any other machine shop would charge her for the work.
Colby held out his hand. “Shall we say seven tomorrow night? We can celebrate with dinner, if there's anywhere in Bisbee that has acceptable food.”
Beth made the handshake brief. She
really
didn't like this guy. “We have some of the best restaurants in Southern Arizona,” she said.
“Is that right? I never would have guessed. Well, see you tomorrow night, then.” He started toward the door. “Good meeting you, Tremayne.”
Mike waved an acknowledgment as Colby headed out the door. Then he turned toward Beth. “What rock did you find him under?”
“He works for a Chicago outfit called Handmade that's trying to establish itself in the hobby market. When Ernie and I first started selling the cutters, they saw our video on the home shopping channel and contacted us. At the time, we weren't interested in their offer to lease the patent and take over the manufacturing. Butnow—”
“Now it would be even more stupid. Dad says you have a winner.”
“We need another six months, Mike.” She glanced outside as Colby's rental car pulled away from the curb. Now she was totally alone with the man who had betrayed both her and her sister in a single evening. “I can't wait for Ernie to recover and start making the cutters again. Our credibility will be destroyed if orders show up late. Besides, even if we could wait, I don't think Ernie should continue working at this pace, considering his bad heart.”
“Neither do L” Mike put down the stained-glass night-light he'd been inspecting. “Fortunately, you have me.”
“You?”
His tone was mild. “You sound as if it's a joke.” He meandered over toward
The Embrace
.
“It is a joke.” She suspected he'd deliberately moved closer to the incriminating circle of stained glass to taunt her. Any minute now he'd ask her about it. “You're not a machinist,” she said.
“Sure I am.” He ran a finger along the ebony wood frame of the piece. “I spent five summers working for Dad, and I even found work as a machinist in Brazil, between expeditions, when I needed the extra cash.” He turned to her. “I'm qualified to produce the cutters for you, Beth.”
Making a deal with Colby would be risking her financial future. She knew that going in. But making a deal with this man would be suicide for her emotional wellbeing. “And how long could you spare, Mike? Three days? That won't be much help.”
He gave her a mock bow. “I'll stay as long as you need me, my lady.”
That almost undid her, but she clenched her hands and forced herself not to react. “Six months?”
He flinched but didn't look away. “Sure, if it takes that long.”
“Sorry, but I won't let you martyr yourself on my account. And don't kid yourself. You'd never last six months. We don't have piranhas in the streams around Bisbee, or ferocious jaguars, or man-eating crocodiles. You'd go crazy living so far from your precious rain forest, and we both know it”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “You're making this seem tougher than it has to be. Dad was planning to train a couple of people to help manufacture the cutters, anyway. I could train them, and once Dad comes home, he could supervise. I'd be out of here in six weeks, not six months.”
She began to panic. He and Ernie had thought this plan out very thoroughly, and it might even work, except for the fact that having Mike around would be hell on earth for her. She took refuge in the truth. “I don't want you to stay, Mike.”
Anger flared in his eyes. “Dammit, Beth, grow up. What happened eight years ago is no reason to jeopardize your future now.”
She wanted to hit him. Instead she turned away and folded her arms. “It has nothing to do with maturity. I'm looking at this from a purely practical standpoint. Working with glass, which is how I earn my living, requires a calm mind. If I'm in a bad mood, I can't cut the glass without breaking it, so I've eliminated the negative influences in my life. I can't risk having you around.”
He was silent for several seconds. “If I'm such a negative influence in your life,” he said quietly, “then why am I hanging in your studio window?”
2
M
IKE COULD TELL from the way Beth's shoulders tensed that she'd been dreading the question. But she had to know he'd ask about the stained-glass piece.
She kept her back to him. “I think you'd better leave.”
“Sorry. You're not getting off that easy. I have a right to know why you made this.”
“I don't have to explain anything.”
She had a point. “Okay, supposing I want to buy it? I couldn't find a price tag. How much are you charging for...” He paused and consulted the small white card in a holder on the windowsill beneath the circle of colored glass. “For
The Embrace?
”
She muttered something he couldn't understand.
“I can't hear you.” He stepped closer to her. “How much?”
She whirled to face him, her gaze stormy. “I said it's not for sale.”
He considered that for a while and became more intrigued by the minute. “When did you make it?”
“What does it matter?”
“I guess it doesn't. The fact that you made it at all is what matters. You seem to hate me with a passion. Why would you deliberately create something that reminds you of a guy you hate?”
She shrugged, although her expression was anything but nonchalant “I'm an artist What you see there is an abstract concept of two people who—”
“The hell it is! That's us, Beth.”
Her skin flushed the delicate pink of his favorite rain forest orchid, but her gaze remained challenging. “So what?”
He gazed down at her belligerent expression, so at odds with the beauty and serenity of the piece they were discussing. “What does it mean?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
He wanted to break through that angry mask and get at the truth. He had a feeling it would be very important to him. “I don't believe you.”
“I don't care if you do or not.”
“Ah, but I think you do care.”
“That's your problem, then. You're a closed chapter in my life.”
He waved an arm back toward the stained glass. “Which is why you have this hanging in the window and won't sell it?”
“The colors are nice, and people have become used to seeing it there.”
“Dammit, Beth.” Grief over his father and lack of sleep had rubbed his nerves raw. “Don't play games with me. I remember how you always got emotionally involved with the stuff you made. You wouldn't have created that piece if you didn't care about me.”
“Wrong. It was an exercise, an experiment.”
“An experiment, huh? Then let's try another one.” He pulled her into his arms and took firm possession of her mouth.
For one joyous moment she responded, and all the pieces of his world fit together for that brief second of soft lips, warm breath and the sweet, remembered taste of Beth. Then she bit him.
With an oath he released her and put a hand to his mouth. When he took his fingers away, there was blood on them. He glanced at her while he reached in a back pocket for his bandanna.
She'd backed several feet away, and she was breathing as hard as he was. “Don't you
ever
try that again,” she said.
He dabbed at his lip. “I'd have to give myself time to heal up first, that's for sure. Good thing the shaman sent me home with some medicinal herbs.”
“If I'm supposed to be impressed because you know a shaman, I'm not.”
“And here I was hoping you would be.”
She glared at him through narrowed eyes. “You probably think your exotic travels make you so appealing you can waltz in here and pick up where you left off with whichever sister is handy. After all, we are completely interchangeable, you know.”
He'd had about enough. “All right! I shouldn't have kissed you that night before the wedding. It was a mistake, one I've paid dearly for. I left town so I wouldn't cause problems between you two. Don't I get any credit for that?”
“You want me to believe that was some sort of noble gesture? You left town because you've always intended to see the Amazon. Besides that, your ego was wounded because Alana wouldn't go to bed with you the night before your wedding!”
“
What?
”
“You didn't think she'd tell me, did you? Well, she did, once she found out you'd left her standing at the altar without so much as a goodbye note. She said you'd begged her to make love to you, but she wanted to wait, and so that explained why you left in such a huff. I didn't have the heart to tell her that a couple of hours before, you'd dragged me off into a dark corner to kiss me. If Ernie hadn't come looking for us, you probably would have tried to seduce me, too!”
Mike stared at her in disbelief. “Beth, I didn't—”
“You broke my sister's heart.”
And mine
. “I can't forgive you for that, Mike.”
So Alana had lied about what had happened that night, he thought in despair. She'd probably sensed something was terribly wrong. She'd been the one who had wanted to make love, perhaps in a last-ditch attempt to bind him to her. With his freshly discovered yet unspoken feelings for Beth, he'd refused. But, he couldn't say that now and accuse Beth's beloved older sister of lying. Beth wouldn't believe him, and besides, her final accusation was correct: He had broken Alana's heart. “I didn't ask Ernie this, but does—does Alana still live in Bisbee?”
“None of your business.”
He realized he'd never accomplish what his father wanted unless he got past her anger. He swallowed his pride. “Look, the three of us spent most of our childhood together. We had a secret hideout, and a special password, and spent our time doing crazy, stupid stuff like having water balloon fights and bubblegumblowing contests. All those memories have to count for something.”
She gazed at him. “What was the password?”
“Excuse me?”
“You just said we had a password for our secret hideout. If all those memories mean as much to you as you claim they do, you should remember the password.”
“Do you remember it?”
“I asked you first.”
“Damn.”
“Nope, that wasn't it.” A faint smile touched her mouth. Then it was gone.
He closed his eyes and thought hard. “It was a flower. I didn't want a flower but you two outvoted me, so I was stuck with this candy-ass flower as a password when I wanted
boa constrictor
.” He opened his eyes. “I remembered boa constrictor. Does that count?”
“No, because it wasn't the one we voted to use.” The smile stayed a little longer this time.
Then he looked into her blue eyes and remembered the password. “Periwinkle.”
“Lucky guess.”
Thunder echoed in a nearby canyon. The storm he'd outrun was catching up to him. “Does the password still work?” His lip seemed to have stopped bleeding so he tucked the bandanna into his hip pocket.
“What do you mean?”
“Does it still get me in?”
She gave him a quizzical look. “We don't have a secret hideout anymore, Mike.”
“Oh, I think you do. You and Alana. And I haven't been allowed in for eight years.”
Her expression took on the contemplative look he remembered from when they were kids. Beth had always been the thinker, the cautious one, while he and Alana had been the reckless adventurers. That was another reason he didn't think she'd just accidentally made the stained-glass version of their fateful kiss. While he'd been hacking through the jungle trying to forget that moment, she'd been haunted by it so much she'd had to re-create it in her art.
“Let me help you through this crisis with the glass cutter, Beth,” he said. “For the sake of the good times.”
“I don't think it would work.” She glanced outside as a flash of lightning lit the deserted street.
He'd started on this campaign to grant Ernie's request and give him a better chance to recuperate. But after seeing Beth's stained-glass creation, his motivation had expanded. He wasn't sure how they'd ever work around the obstacle of Alana, but maybe, after all these years, it was time to try. “I think it could work.”
She sighed. “No, Mike. Trust me on this one. It's not a good idea.”
Years ago he'd been pretty good at guessing what Beth was thinking. It was a good guess that right now she was thinking about Alana. He decided to make an end run around the objection. “You never told me what Alana was doing these days.”
Her glance was sharp, and at first it looked as if she might not answer at all. Finally she spoke. “She's formed her own company—Vacation Adventures, Inc. She takes families on action trips like rafting, rock climbing, canoeing, things like that. So far she hasn't done anything outside the country, but she has plans to expand to South America.”
He understood Beth's accusatory tone. He and Alana had planned to go to South America together after they were married. “I'll bet she's good at taking families on trips,” he said. “She's always been a people person.” The storm moved closer.
“She's good at it.” She met his gaze. “You and Alana always wanted an adventurous kind of life, and it looks as if you both got it.”
“Where's she based?” He knew his interest would be suspect. Beth would think he wanted to rekindle the flame with Alana, but that couldn't be helped right now.
“Phoenix. But if you were planning to see her, she's not there. A family hired her to take them canoeing in the Ozarks for two weeks. She left yesterday.”
“I hadn't planned to go see her yet. I will eventually, because it's time I apologized for what I did. But right now I'm here to be with Dad and help you, if you'll let me.”
Slowly she shook her head. “I appreciate Ernie coming up with the solution, but I think it would be best for everyone if he and I make a deal with Handmade. We'll lease them the patent, and—”
“And throw away Ernie's hope for a comfortable retirement.”
She looked stricken. “Now wait a minute, Mike. There's no guarantee that this cutter will become that popular.”
“He thinks it will. He gave me an entire infomercial on the Nightingale Glass Cutter. He said it makes cutting glass so easy everybody in the country will want to try it. He predicts it'll become as popular as home video cameras.”
“Or it could be a total flop,” she said. “Who knows?” Lightning flashed again, followed by a hard crack of thunder that would've gotten a reaction out of her in the old days. She didn't flinch.
“Dad's sure he knows, and it's driving him nuts, thinking that the two of you have a potential fortune in your grasp and you're about to throw it away because he's not here to help you. He thinks of himself as your protector, now that your dad's not around. He's sure that by having this heart attack, he's let you down. The only way to fix the problem is for me to take over in his place.”
“When you lay a guilt trip on somebody, you don't mess around, do you?”
“Not if I think it will help my dad get better.”
She frowned and looked away. “I wish we'd never decided to market the damn thing. At the time it seemed like a good idea for both of us, but I'm sorry we started it.”
Mike glanced out the front window as fat raindrops splattered against it. “There's nothing we can do about that now.” He returned his attention to Beth. “Look, he begged me to take over the operation for him and save you both from the clutches of this Huxford guy. If I report back that everything's taken care of, he'll be free to concentrate on getting better. If I tell him you've refused my offer, he'll lie in that hospital bed worrying about it. That's a guarantee.”
She looked trapped, and he regretted that, but it couldn't be helped. Whatever their problems, he was determined they wouldn't interfere with his father's recovery. “So now what do you say?” he asked.
She fidgeted with a turquoise ring on her finger. “You know I'd do anything in the world for Ernie.”
And not a damn thing for me
, Mike thought sadly. “But I can't afford to completely reject this offer from Handmade.”
“Because you don't trust me to come through?”
She met his gaze. “Let's just say I don't trust the situation. I haven't seen you in eight years, Mike. I don't know you anymore.”
As a hotheaded twenty-two-year-old he would have left the studio in disgust, but living among the primitive rain forest tribes had taught him many things, including patience. “Can you stall Huxford for a while?”
BOOK: The Heartbreaker
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