Reunited with the Billionaire Page 7

  He’d deserved better than Wendy’s refusal to see him, that cold note of dismissal and the endless silence ever since.

  He’d gone to see her for answers, answers she damn well owed him. Instead, she’d stood on those steps, looking down at him with ice in her eyes, and what had he done about it? Nothing.

  “Nothing,” he said, his jaw tightening.

  Instead, he’d stomped out to his truck and slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel with frustration. His cell phone had rung just then and a good thing, too. It was Rod Pommier, phoning to ask if they could meet this afternoon instead of this morning. Yes, Seth had said, that was fine.

  It sure as hell was.

  How could he have talked intelligently about beams and ceilings and rebuilding a chalet when all he wanted to do was go back to the Monroe house, confront Wendy and ask her if she really thought she could screw around with a man’s head and get away with it not once, but twice in a lifetime?

  Just about then, Wendy came down the steps, opened the garage door and drove out in Gina’s Volvo wagon. Without thinking about it, Seth had started his truck, waited until she reached the end of the block, and pulled out after her. He’d been following her ever since while she drove, seemingly without plan. They’d gone through the village, turned onto Route 7, driven north for a while….

  The Volvo’s brake lights winked. The right turn signal went on. She was pulling into the lot at the Burger Barn, a place he hadn’t been in since…was it really that long? Since they’d dated.

  He checked his mirror and turned in after her. She wouldn’t recognize his black pickup, but it was just a little past 11:45, too early for the safe anonymity of the lunch crowd that would start flocking here pretty soon. Seth kept his head averted when he drove past her and parked at the far end of the almost empty lot.

  What now? She didn’t seem to be getting out. Yeah. She was. He saw her door open, saw her step out, shut the door and pull up her hood.

  His heart climbed into his throat.

  The snow had changed to big, lazy flakes that left a white layer on the ground. There could be ice beneath it. He’d watched Wendy in town the other day and seen how she limped. The footing was probably dicey, but he could just imagine her reaction if he suddenly came barreling out of nowhere, grabbed her arm, told her to hang on to him for support.

  He sat still, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles whitened, watching her make her way toward the Barn, his entire body on alert in case he had to throw open the door and race to her side. When she reached the restaurant and went in, Seth let out his breath, cursed himself for being a fool, reached for the key still in the ignition…

  And stopped.

  What was he doing? He’d gone to see her this morning, followed her through half the valley after she’d told him to get lost, and now he was just going to turn around and drive away? The hell he was.

  He wanted closure.

  Nine years before, he’d taken every dime he’d managed to save, sunk it into an airplane ticket and flown straight to Wendy because he’d thought she needed him.

  She hadn’t.

  It had taken him a long time to get his life back together after that. It was a hell of a thing to think a woman loved you and then have her send you a note—a note, damn it—that told you she didn’t.

  Closure, Seth thought, his jaw tightening. He not only wanted it, he deserved it.

  He took the key from the ignition, got out of the truck and strode toward the restaurant. The warm scents of grilled hamburgers and fried onions met him as he stepped inside. He pulled off his gloves, looked around and saw her sitting in a booth way at the back. She was reading the menu, her head slightly bent, auburn curls falling forward over her shoulders, and he walked toward her quickly, wanting whatever small advantage he might gain through surprise.

  “Wendy.”

  Surprise? Shock was more like it. She looked up, face draining of color, the menu falling from her hands.

  “Seth? What are you doing here?”

  “The same thing I was doing before. I’m here to see you.”

  “To see…” She swallowed. With grim pleasure, he saw her struggling to regain her composure. Slowly, color washed up under her skin in a wave of pale pink. “Well.” She swallowed again, reached for the leather gloves and purse she’d put on the seat beside her. “Well, unfortunately, I was just—”

  “Leaving?” He smiled tightly. “I don’t think so. You just got here.”

  Her eyes widened. “How do you know? Did you—I don’t believe it! You followed me.”

  “Yes. And I’ll damn well follow you again, up and down this valley if I have to.”

  “Keep your voice down!” She looked around. The only other customers were at the front. Nobody was paying any attention to them. Frankly, he wouldn’t have cared if the entire town marched in at that moment. Clearly, she did.

  “You keep running away, I’ll just keep going after you.”

  That did it. Her eyes snapped with anger. “You’re crazy.”

  “Maybe so, but the choice is yours. You want me to tag after you, I will. Up and down Route 7 and from one end of Main Street to the other. I can always park my truck in your driveway and camp out.”

  “For heaven’s sake…!” She glared at him. “Sit down.”

  “An intelligent decision,” he said as he slid into the booth across from her. “But then, you always were bright. I was the one who wasn’t.”

  “I don’t know what that’s supposed to—”

  “Hi,” a voice said cheerfully. “You folks ready to order?”

  Seth looked up. A waitress had materialized beside their table, a notepad in her hand and a smile on her lips.

  “The onion burger is today’s special. Two patties of beef, smoked cheddar, fried onions—”

  “Coffee,” Seth said.

  The waitress lifted her eyebrows. “Right. And you, miss?”

  “I don’t want anything.”

  “She’ll have coffee, too.”

  “Listen, Seth…” Wendy glanced up at the waitress and flushed. “Coffee’s fine.”

  The waitress pursed her lips and scooped up their menus. “You got it.”

  Seth waited until she’d walked away from the table. Then he leaned forward. “Only a stupid son of a bitch wouldn’t have realized you were leaving him, not just Cooper’s Corner.”

  Wendy looked blank. “I don’t know…” She stared at him and then she laughed. Really laughed, which only sent his anger up another notch.

  “You think that’s funny?”

  “You think I went to Norway rather than simply break things off with you?” She sat back as the waitress served their coffee, her laughter dying as soon as the girl left. “You know what, Seth? If you believe that, you’re right. You really are dumb.”

  “You know damn well what I mean. When you left here, I thought things were fine between us. And then, wham, you didn’t even have the decency to slam the door in my face. A Dear John letter, for God’s sake. Until then, I thought people only did those things in bad movies.”

  His face was dark with anger. Wendy could see the faint, rhythmic tick of a muscle in his jaw. For a second, she wanted to reach across the table, put her fingers against that telltale pulse, tell him…tell him—

  “All right.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I…I shouldn’t have done it that way. But I was in a hospital bed, remember? I wasn’t up to having conversations with visitors.”

  “I wasn’t a visitor, damn it. I was your lover.” Seth leaned forward, his voice low and rough. “Do you have any idea what it was like? Being here, a million miles from you, getting that call from your mother, knowing you’d been hurt, knowing that you might—that you might be dying?”

  “This is history. And I’ve already apologized. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? To hear me admit I was wrong? I should have told you I was ending things…except, if you
think back, I tried. I refused to see you. I didn’t open your notes….”

  She wrapped her hands around the mug, hoping some of the coffee’s warmth would seep into her icy fingers. She didn’t regret what she’d done. What choice had there been? Seth was over her. She was over him. But she owed him this moment.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I was wrong. I know it’s years too late, but…but thank you for coming.”

  He made a sound that might have been a laugh. “I didn’t want your thanks, Wendy. I just wanted you to look at me. Tell me how glad you were to see me.” His voice turned husky. He cleared his throat, reached for the cream and poured some into his coffee. “What’s that old song?” he said with a quick smile. “Something about not always getting what you want, right?”

  “You’re right about the note, too. I should have had the courage to face you and tell you I was ending things.”

  He looked up from his coffee, and all at once he seemed young and vulnerable. “That you wanted me out of your life.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” Wendy said. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I want you to know that.”

  “Yeah.” He stirred his coffee, then put down his spoon. “But you did it.” He lifted the mug to his lips, took a sip. “And you were right,” he said briskly. “I mean, we were just kids. What do kids know about what they really feel or want?”

  She felt a little tug at her heart. “Not much.” She took a deep breath. “Okay?”

  Was it? He wasn’t sure, but he’d come for closure and that was what she was offering.

  “Sure.” Seth held out his hand. “Friends?”

  “Friends.”

  She smiled and put her hand in his. His fingers, warm and callused, tightened around hers. An electric tingle of remembrance shot through her. Their eyes met and held. Then he let go of her hand and reached for his coffee.

  “I hear you’re a teacher.”

  “Mais oui,” she said, still smiling, still feeling the current running from her fingers straight through her blood. “And you’re a hotshot carpenter.”

  She was doing her best to lighten the conversation, Seth realized. He could help her, now that they’d settled things. They’d been friends long before they’d been lovers. It would be nice to be friends again—and they could be, now that his anger was gone.

  “That’s me.” He grinned. “Seth Castleman, Cooper’s Corner’s best carpenter.”

  “I bet.”

  “Hey, I can’t lose.” He dropped his voice to an exaggerated whisper. “I’m its only carpenter.”

  They both smiled, waited, then spoke at the same time.

  “So,” Wendy said.

  “So,” Seth said.

  They laughed. “You first,” he told her.

  “No, you go ahead. What were you about to say?”

  “I was going to ask what brought you home.”

  A visit, she started to say, but he smiled, a crooked tilt of the mouth she’d never forgotten. Her heart gave that funny little lurch again, but there was nothing but pleasant interest in his gaze. Good. That was good. That was all she felt, too. It meant they could be, well, perhaps not friends, but friendly. In that spirit, she decided to tell him the truth.

  “I’m here to meet someone. Well, to introduce myself to him.” Seth looked puzzled. She leaned closer. “Have you ever heard of a surgeon named Rod Pommier?”

  He blinked and sat back. “Pommier? Yeah, sure I’ve heard of him. Actually—”

  “Actually, what?”

  I know him. The words were on the tip of Seth’s tongue, but he bit them back.

  “A person would have to be dense not to have heard of the guy. He made the papers, the cover of all the magazines a while back….” He stared at her. “You want him to operate on you?”

  “That’s right.” Wendy’s face seemed to light from within. “He’s developed a technique that could change my life. It’s a bonding thing. I don’t understand most of it but—”

  “Change your life how? You’re walking. That was the big thing, wasn’t it? That you got back the use of your leg?”

  “I want to ski again,” she said, as if he should have been able to figure that out for himself.

  “Can’t you?”

  “Is that your idea of a joke?”

  Her voice had turned cold. He knew somehow he’d made a mistake, but about what?

  “No. Of course not. Look, I know you walk with a limp—”

  “That’s very incisive.”

  “Wendy. Damn it, all I meant was… I still ski and—”

  “Yes,” she said. Her tone had gone from cold to frigid. “I’m sure you do.” She grabbed her gloves and purse and began to rise. He reached out and caught her wrist. “Please let go of me.”

  “Will you stop being an idiot? I’m trying to tell you that when I’m on the slopes, I see people with all kinds of handicaps.”

  “Handicaps.” Ice crystals rimed each syllable.

  “You know what I mean. I just assumed—”

  “Assumptions are always a mistake.”

  “Will you stop looking at me that way?”

  “How about you let go of my wrist?”

  “Look…” He sat back, telling himself that he wasn’t going to get anywhere by losing his temper again. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. If you miss skiing—”

  “If I miss it?” She gave a bitter laugh. “You really don’t know me at all, do you?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I guess not, because I figured you’d have been back on the mountains for a long time by now.”

  “Where? How? On the beginner’s slope?”

  “No, of course not. They held a race at Brodie last winter for people with disabilities.” He saw her flinch at the word. “For people who are challenged.”

  “Don’t play with the truth, Seth. For cripples. Isn’t that what you mean?” She glared at him, her breathing quick. “Do you really think I could be satisfied with that?”

  “These people don’t stay on the beginner’s—”

  “Damn it, you know what I’m saying! No, I haven’t skied since my accident. Why would I? I don’t want to poke along, watching out for each bump. I want to ski the way I once did. To fly down a mountain. To compete.”

  The words fell between them, heavy as stones. So far, Wendy thought, the only person who knew how she felt was her father, and he sure hadn’t looked at her the way Seth was looking at her now.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m dead serious. If Pommier can fix my leg—”

  “Pommier isn’t taking on new patients, or did I read those stories wrong?”

  “He says he isn’t. But I’m convinced if I can just get him to see me—”

  “How are you going to manage that?”

  Wendy hesitated. “I—I have an in.” Her voice quickened and she leaned forward eagerly. “Don’t you see, Seth? If he operates, if it works, I can get back in shape within a year. Two, max.”

  “Wendy, come on. Those are huge if’s. Besides, even if the guy could work this miracle—”

  “It’s what he does. I’ve read every word written about him. Pommier can do it.”

  “I’ve read a lot about him, too. The surgery’s risky.”

  “Life’s full of risks.”

  Seth put down his coffee mug and ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe I just don’t get it. Why would you want to ski competitively again? You’ve been there, done that. You have the medals to prove it.”

  “Not Olympic gold.”

  “You still have your legs,” he said harshly. “Isn’t that as good as Olympic gold?”

  They stared at each other in taut silence. Then Wendy reached for her things. “I should have known you wouldn’t see this my way. The only person who understands is my father.”

  “Does he, now,” Seth said, his voice flat.

  “Yes. Yes, he does. I’m going to get my chance to talk to Dr. Pommier, thanks to him.”

  Seth’s
mouth thinned. “Ah. So that’s your `in.’ Your old man. It figures.”

  Her head came up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Your old man will do anything to get that gold. He pushed you like crazy, ran you right into the ground. You got to Norway so worn-out that it’s a wonder you didn’t fall down as soon as you got off the plane.”

  “You think the accident was his fault?”

  “That’s what I just said.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “I don’t think so.” Seth hesitated a moment, then went on. “And while I’m at it, I’ll tell you something else. Your father was glad you ended things between us.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “He saw me as a kid with no future, getting in the way of his pursuit of an Olympic medal.”

  “It wasn’t his pursuit, it was mine. And you’re dead wrong about the accident.” Wendy’s voice shook. “It was my fault. All mine.”

  “Yeah, right.” Seth dug out his wallet, took out a bill and tossed it on the table. His anger was back and he knew he’d never get rid of it until he placed it where it belonged, square on the jaw of Howard Monroe. “He’s got you brainwashed.”

  Wendy’s eyes flashed. “You have no right to say that.”

  “I have every right. That last night, on Sawtooth Mountain, you lay in my arms and said you loved me. You said you had to get the dream of winning out of your system.” Seth got to his feet, his face white, his eyes hot. “But you were lying. You already knew you were going to break up with me, Wendy, whether you won that damned medal or not. That accident just made it easier for you. You had the perfect excuse to shove me out of your life.”

  “You bastard! You…you unfeeling, self-centered son of a—”

  “Hi, everybody. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  They both turned. Alison was standing beside their table, smiling nervously and twisting her knit cap in her hands.

  “Look, you guys, why don’t I go outside, drive around for a while, say, fifteen minutes or so and—”

  “No,” Wendy said sharply.

  “Hell, no,” Seth said, even more sharply. “I was just leaving. So long, Wendy. Have a nice life.”