Don’t Call Me Sweetheart (10 page)

Lifting her loose curls from where they clung damply to the
back of her neck, Whitney jumped at the muffled sound of a car pulling into the
drive and coming to a stop. She scurried through the house and opened the front
door in time to see two children tumble from the backseat as soon as the engine
stopped and immediately race for the maple tree where the swing swayed
temptingly. A man and woman followed, laughing as they watched their children
dive headfirst into the first visible opportunity for fun they spotted.

Whitney slipped past the screen door and greeted the young
couple as they came up the steps.

“Hello and welcome to Mountain Meadow Inn,” she said warmly,
extending her hand in welcome.

“Thank you,” the woman replied, reaching to shake Whitney’s
hand in return. “We’re the Turners. I believe you have a reservation for us,
don’t you?”

“Of course we do,” Whitney answered her with a captivating
smile. “We’ve been expecting you and we hope you’ll find your stay to be as
enjoyable as we will strive to make it. I’m Whitney Lane, the owner. I’ll be
glad to show you to your room, if you like, that is after we get you signed in.”

The Turners exchanged grateful glances. “That sounds
wonderful, Ms. Lane.”

“Whitney.”

“That sounds just wonderful, Whitney,” Mr. Turner said
again, beginning to feel that the vacation his wife had insisted they take
might turn out to be a good thing after all.

With a backward glance to assure themselves that their
children were still playing happily on the swing, the newest guests of the inn
followed Whitney inside and up to the antique front desk where Stuart Walsten
stood ready to meet them. As their names were entered in the register they were
each able to glance about the home. There were two set of stairs flanking the
spacious front room, with the dining room clearly visible through a set of
louvered doors at near the back of the room A sign posted on the wall adjacent
to the dining room announced that meals were served at eight a.m., noon and
again at six o’clock, although trays could be prepared upon request. That
particular night, the posted main course was honeyed ham.

In short order Whitney showed her guests up the left-hand
flight of steps to their room with its panoramic view of the mountain range. Then
she retired to her own suite, accessible only by the opposite set of steps, to
prepare for Stephan’s arrival. Before she knew it, the grandfather clock in the
foyer was striking seven o’clock and true to his word Stephan’s voice could be
heard downstairs as he stopped to say hello to the Walstens.

Whitney felt her palms begin to sweat and deep inside
nervous ripples of… What? Anticipation? She wasn’t sure but something
definitely had set her stomach to doing the same flip-flops she had experienced
when she had met Christian so many months before. A lifetime ago.

You’re a different woman now,
she told herself as she
took one last look in the mirror. Ready, or not, a new Whitney Lane had
replaced the shy creature who hadn’t known what to say to Christian last
spring. And now she was going to meet this latest challenge just as she had all
the rest. Hadn’t she outsmarted the gold diggers who had thought they could
latch onto her fortune? And she had taken to running an inn with the practiced
ease of a veteran—well, with a little help from her dear friends, the Walstens.

Pride would see her through this evening too. Seeing her
reflection gave her the last boost of confidence she needed.

She had chosen to wear a simple white denim dress with soft
touches of embroidered flowers at the neckline. Silver earrings and a pendant
suspended above the barest hint of cleavage was a perfect match to the tiny
buttons running the length of the dress. She had decided to let her hair fall
freely in rebellious curls about her bare shoulders where the widely scooped
neck allowed her creamy skin to show. Her great green eyes peeked out from
beneath finely arched brows and full, soft lips seemed to beckon a man to try to
kiss them, while the strength beneath the beauty promised they would be kept at
a safe distance.

Whitney liked what she saw and hoped Stephan would too.

You know Christian would.

“Keep out of this,” Whitney shushed the troublesome voice
she hadn’t heard for quite some time. She wasn’t going to think about
Christian. Not tonight.

A familiar male voice calling from downstairs interrupted
her thoughts. “Hey up there! Are you coming down sometime tonight or am I to
assume I’m being stood up?”

Grabbing her small purse and pausing to rub Gabbycat behind
the ears one last time, Whitney swept from the room and rushed downstairs. Breathless
she arrived at the bottom of the staircase and came face to face with her date
who had just made the decision to go up and see if he could hurry her along.

“Well, I’ve got to say, this was certainly worth the wait!”
Stephan commented, taking in each beautiful inch of Whitney’s trim five-foot-six-inch
frame.

Whitney blushed prettily at the compliment and replied, “I’ve
been told I shouldn’t believe anything a lawyer tells me but I think in your
case I’ll make an exception.”

“And so you should,” Stephan said, tapping her playfully on
the nose. “Shall we go?”

“Of course.”

The telephone rang as they prepared to leave. Stuart called
to Whitney, holding the receiver out in her direction.

“It’s for you, honey. Says it’s mighty important.”

“Did they say who they were?” Whitney reached for the phone,
holding her hand over the mouthpiece.

“It didn’t sound like himat all, sugar,” Stuart told
her with a comforting smile. He turned back to the entries he was making on the
computer. Whitney had told the Walstens that if Christian ever called and asked
for her to warn her before she took the call. Thankfully they hadn’t pressed
her for her details.

“Hello?” Whitney said with an apologetic look at Stephan who
was pretending to be crushed by the interruption.

“Is this tha’ new owner?”

The color drained from Whitney’s face as the deep voice on
the other end of the line reached across the miles and wrapped itself around
her racing heart.

“Yes.” It was the only word she could force past the lump in
her throat.

“Well, Miss whatever-your-name-was, I thoug’ I should check
an’ see how business is. Kinda avoided it up to now.”

He was stinking drunk. Whitney didn’t need to see him to
know that much. Why in the world would he make a phone call like this in that
condition? He probably wouldn’t even remember making it tomorrow, which was
good because there were a few things she had wanted to tell him for months now
and he was giving her the perfect opportunity. Perhaps by venting some of her
pent-up feelings she could lay them to rest and move on with her life. Magically
the lump disappeared.

“I have a name if you’ll recall,” she informed him icily.

“‘Course you do, I just don’t ’member it right now. It’s not
important anyway. I want to know how my place is doin’.”

“You gave up your rights to that information when you cashed
my check. Or did you forget that fact also?” Whitney asked pointedly, wishing
that she could see Christian’s face when she reminded him that he had signed
over possession of the inn to her of his own free will.

“Didn’t forget it. Jus’ not important since I’ll get it all
back soon.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it if I were you. You haven’t shown much
interest in this place since you signed on the dotted line, so I don’t believe
we have anything else to say to one another until it’s time to try to negotiate
your buyback.” She fought to keep tight control of her own voice, glad he was
unable to hear the strangled yearning masked beneath the anger.

“Yes, we do. I just don’t have time to break away an’ come
home.”

You found time to break my heart.

“This isn’t a good time, Christian.” Stephan’s eyes swung
around to meet hers at the mention of his friend’s name. Whitney had hoped to
avoid telling him that his best friend had treated her like a first-class jerk
in the past but it seemed that wouldn’t be possible now. “Please don’t bother
calling again. Goodbye.” With a trembling hand Whitney replaced the receiver in
its cradle and turned to Stephan her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“I’m so sorry, Stephan. I don’t think I feel well enough to
go out after all.”

“Whitney, my God, I had no idea you knew Christian. How? Where?”
Seeing Whitney’s lower lip begin to quiver, Stephan enveloped her in his arms
and steered her into the front parlor where he helped her sit down.

“I really don’t want to go into it, Stephan. Christian is
part of my past and I intend to keep it that way. He means nothing to me.”

“Liar!”

Damn that voice.

“Whitney, I’ve known Christian most of my life, we
practically grew up together. He’s not the kind of man who goes around breaking
beautiful women’s hearts.”

“My heart is not broken.”

“Okay, okay. I believe you.” There was too much skepticism
in his eyes for Whitney to be convinced. “But Christian isn’t the type to
purposefully hurt anyone, let alone someone like you.”

“You could have fooled me. I’d say he’s quite accomplished
at hurting people, even me.”

“Just what did he do to you, Whitney?” Stephan asked
quietly, concern etched across his brow.

“Let’s just say he misrepresented himself at one point and
let it go at that. I don’t plan to have anything else to do with him until it’s
time to discuss whether he can comply with the buyback clause of our contract
or not.”

“And until then…”

“Until then I plan to enjoy my new business and the
wonderful friends I’ve made here at Reflection Ridge. Especially you, Stephan.”
Whitney paused to place her hand over Stephan’s where it was resting between
them on the sofa. She lifted her eyes and gazed sadly into his. Why in the
world couldn’t she fall in love with a man like this instead of someone like
Christian? She wanted a steady, predictable, sensitive man, not…

Fall in love? With Christian?
That was what she had
just admitted to, wasn’t it. Oh lord help her she was in love with him, wasn’t
she? Totally, helplessly, hopelessly in love with a man she couldn’t stand. How
could this have happened to her? The queen of romance trapped in a relationship
that would never stand a chance. Perhaps someday she would appreciate the sweet
irony of the situation but not now, not when her heart lay shattered in too
many pieces to ever be whole again.

As the realization dawned on her why she had languished over
Christian for months Stephan was gently gathering her in his arms. He let his
lips drop over hers in answer to the simple gesture she had made by touching
his hand.

Whitney remained still within his embrace, unsure what her
reaction should be. She didn’t want to be kissed—not by him, having just
discovered she loved someone else. But it was love without hope. Why not let
Stephan kiss her? If she could find love once, maybe she could again.

She waited for her body to take over and lead her to respond
as it had with Christian to the kisses Stephan pressed against her soft lips,
but it didn’t. There was no spark, no uncontrollable desire to kiss him back. Nothing.

Damn. That man was not about to control her actions from two
thousand miles away. She could respond if she wanted to and at the moment she
wanted desperately to know that another man could set her heart racing besides
Christian. She
needed
to know that given half a chance she could feel
the same excitement as Stephan’s hands touched her that she had with Christian.
She had to prove to herself that she could take her love from the wrong man and
give it to one who was everything she had always known she needed.

Whitney allowed a soft moan to escape her and was instantly
rewarded as Stephan’s grip on her arms tightened. Parting her lips, she
welcomed the intrusion his tongue made into the recesses of her mouth, trying
her best to match his passion with some of her own. But it was just wasn’t
happening. He was doing all the things that Christian had done but it didn’t
feel the same at all. She couldn’t pretend to ache for more of his touch no
matter how hard she tried. There was no overwhelming need to feel his flesh
against hers.

With a frustrated cry she broke free and pushed him away. Stephan
stared, not understanding, as Whitney leaned back against the couch, her eyes
squeezed shut as a tear slipped slowly down her cheek. It was several moments
before either could speak.

“Tell me what I did wrong, Whitney,” Stephan begged, his
blue eyes imploring her to forgive him. “I never meant to upset you. You said
there was nothing between you and Christian and I thought… I was just trying to…”

“It wasn’t you. You’re perfect, you’re wonderful! And I’m
every kind of a fool not to be the woman you want me to be. I just can’t. Can
you understand, please?” Her voice was thick with the unshed tears she was
fighting to keep from falling. Christian had managed to ruin her ability to
react to other men, to choose her own destiny. How could she explain something
like that to Stephan?

“I take full blame for putting you in such an awkward
position. Can you ever forgive me?” Stephan whispered wretchedly.

Now why couldn’t that Neanderthal in New York have asked for
her forgiveness instead of putting the blame on her when he had lost control?

Whitney reached out and took Stephan’s worried face between
her hands. Ever so gently she brushed his lips with her fingertips, feeling the
heat of their kiss still there.

“Stephan, you didn’t do anything wrong here tonight,” she
said quietly. “I made you think I might be ready for something serious but I’m
obviously not. It should be me asking you for forgiveness, not the other way
around.”