First Impressions (18 page)

“Did it keep you from being bored?” she demanded, struggling against his hold. “Amusing yourself with a stupid little country girl who was so gullible she'd believe anything you said? You could play the poor working man and be entertained.”

“It was never like that.” Enraged by the words, he shook her. “You don't really believe that.”

The tears gushed out passionately, strangling her voice. “And I was so willing to fall into bed with you. You knew it!” She sobbed, pushing desperately at him. “Right from the first I had no secrets from you.”

“I had them,” he admitted in a tight voice. “I had reasons for them.”

“You knew how much I loved you, how much I wanted you. You
used
me!” On a moan, she covered her face with her hands. “Oh God, I left myself wide open.”

She wept with the same honest abandon he'd seen when she laughed. Unable to do otherwise, he crushed her against him. He thought if he could only calm her down, he could make her understand. “Shane, please, you have to listen to me.”

“No, no, I don't.” She pulled in breath after jerky breath as she struggled for release. “I'll never forgive you. I'll never believe anything you say again. Damn you, let me go.”

“Not until you stop this and hear what I have to say.”

“No! I won't listen to any more lies. I won't let you make a fool of me again. All this time, all this time when I was giving you everything, you were lying and laughing at me. I was just something to keep the nights from being dull while you were on vacation.”

He jerked her back, his face rigid with fury. “Damn it, Shane, you know better than that.”

Her struggles ceased abruptly. As he watched, the tears seemed to turn to ice. Without expression, she stared up at him. Nothing she had said so far had struck him to the core like that one cool look.

“I don't know you,” she said quietly.

“Shane—”

“Take your hands off me.” The command was devoid of passion. Vance felt his stiff fingers loosen. Freed, Shane stepped back until they were no longer touching. “I want you to go away and leave me alone. Stay away from me,” she added flatly, still looking directly into his eyes. “I don't want to see you again.”

Turning, she walked up the steps and to the door. After its final click came absolute silence.

***

Far beneath the window, the streets were packed with traffic. The steady fall of snow increased the confusion. Beneath the overhang of the department store across the street, a red-cheeked Santa rang his bell, ho-hoing when someone dropped a coin into his bucket. The scene below was played in pantomime. The thick glass of the window and well-constructed walls allowed no street sounds to intrude. Vance kept his back to his plush, spacious office and continued to watch.

He'd made his obligatory appearance at the company Christmas party. It was still going on, with enthusiasm, in a large conference room on the third floor. When it broke up, everyone would go home to spend Christmas Eve with their families or friends. He'd refused more than a dozen invitations for the evening since his return to Washington. It was one thing to do his duty as the head of the company, and another to put himself through hours of small talk and celebrating.
She wouldn't be there,
he thought, staring down at the snowy sidewalk.

Two weeks. In two weeks, Vance had managed to straighten out a few annoying contractual tangles, plot out a bid for a new wing to a hospital in Virginia and head a heated board meeting. He'd dealt with paperwork and some minor corporate intrigue he might have found amusing if he'd been sleeping properly. But he wasn't sleeping properly any more than he was forgetting. Work wasn't an elixir this time. As she had from the very first moment, Shane haunted him.

Turning from the window, Vance took his place behind the massive oak desk. It was clear of papers. In a fury of frustrated energy, he'd taken care of every letter, memo and contract, putting his secretary and assistants through an orgy of work over the last two weeks. Now, he had nothing but an empty desk and a clear calendar. He considered the possibility of flying to Des Moines to supervise the progress of a condominium development. That would throw the Iowa branch into a panic, he thought with a quick laugh. Hardly fair to upset their applecart because he was restless. He brooded at the far wall, wondering what Shane was doing.

He hadn't left in anger. It would have been easier for Vance if that had been the case. He had left because Shane had wanted it. He didn't blame her, and that too made it impossibly frustrating. Why should she listen to him or understand? There had been enough truth in what she had flung at him to make the rest difficult to overturn. He had lied, or at the very least, he hadn't been honest. To Shane, one was the same as the other.

He'd hurt her. He had put that look of helpless despair on her face. That was unforgivable. Vance pushed away from the desk to pace over the thick stone-colored carpet. But damn it, if she'd just listened to him! If she'd only given him a moment. Going to the window again, he scowled out. Laughed at her? Made fun of her? No, he thought with the first true fury he'd felt in two weeks. No, by God, he'd be damned if he'd stand quietly aside while she turned the most important thing in his life into a joke.

She'd had her say, Vance told himself as he headed for the door. Now he was going to have his.

***

“Shane, don't be stubborn.” Donna followed her through the doorway from the museum into the shop.

“I'm not being stubborn, Donna, I really have a lot to do.” To prove her point, Shane leafed through a catalog to price and date her latest stock. “With the Christmas rush, I've really fallen behind on the paperwork. I've got invoices to file, and if I don't get the books caught up before the quarter, I'm going to be in a jam.”

“Baloney,” Donna said precisely, flipping the catalog closed.

“Donna, please.”

“No, I don't please.” She stuck her hands on her hips. “And it's two against one,” she added, indicating Pat with a jerk of her head. “We're not having you spend Christmas Eve alone in this house, and that's all there is to it.”

“Come on, Shane.” Pat joined ranks with her sister-in-law. “You should see Donna and Dave chase after Benji when he heads for the tree. And as Donna's putting on a little weight,” she added, grinning at the expectant mother, “she isn't as fast as she used to be.”

Shane laughed, but shook her head. “I promise I'll come by tomorrow. I've got a very noisy present for Benji. You'll probably never speak to me again.”

“Shane.” Firmly, Donna took her by the shoulders. “Pat's told me how you've been moping around. And,” she continued, ignoring the annoyed glance Shane shot over her shoulder at the informant, “anyone can take one look at you and see you're worn-out and miserable.”

“I'm not worn-out,” Shane corrected.

“Just miserable?”

“I didn't say—”

Donna gave her a quick affectionate shake. “Look, I don't know what happened between you and Vance—”

“Donna . . .”

“And I'm not asking,” she added. “But you can't expect me to stand by while my best friend is unhappy. How much fun can I have, thinking about you here all alone?”

“Donna.” Shane gave her a fierce hug then drew away. “I appreciate it, really I do, but I'm lousy company now.”

“I know,” Donna agreed mercilessly.

That made Shane laugh and hug her again. “Please, take Pat and go back to your family.”

“So speaks the martyr.”

“I'm not—” Shane began furiously, then broke off, seeing the gleam in Donna's eyes. “That won't work,” she told her. “If you think you can make me mad so I'll come just to prove you wrong—”

“All right.” Donna settled herself in a rocker. “Then I'll just sit here. Of course, poor Dave will spend Christmas Eve without me, and my little boy won't understand where his mother could be, but . . .” She sighed and folded her hands.

“Oh, Donna, really.” Shane dragged her hand through her hair, caught between laughter and tears. “Talk about martyrs.”

“I'm not complaining for myself,” she said in a long-suffering tone. “Pat, run along and tell Dave I won't be home. Dry little Benji's tears for me.”

Pat gave a snort of laughter, but Shane rolled her eyes. “I'll be sick in a minute,” she promised. “Donna, go home!” she insisted. “I'm closing the shop.”

“Good, go get your coat. I'll drive.”

“Donna, I'm not . . .” She trailed off as the shop door opened. Seeing her friend pale, Donna turned her head to watch Vance walk in.

“Well, we have to run,” she stated, springing quickly to her feet. “Come on, Pat, Dave's probably at his wit's end keeping Benji from pulling over the tree. Merry Christmas, Shane.” She gave Shane a quick kiss before grabbing her coat.

“Donna, wait . . .”

“No, we just can't stay,” she claimed, making the reversal without blinking an eye. “I've got a million things to do. Hi, Vance, nice to see you. Let's go, Pat.” They were out the door before Shane could fit in another word.

Vance lifted a brow at the hasty exit but made no comment. Instead, he studied Shane as the silence grew long and thick. The anger that had driven him there melted. “Shane,” he murmured.

“I—I'm closing.”

“Fine.” Vance turned and flicked the lock on the door. “Then we won't be disturbed.”

“I'm busy, Vance. I have . . .” She searched desperately for something important. “Things to do,” she finished lamely. When he neither spoke nor moved, she sent him a look of entreaty. “Please go away.”

Vance shook his head. “I tried that, Shane. I can't.” He slipped off his coat and dropped it on the chair Donna had vacated. Shane stared at him, thrown off-balance by his appearance in a trimly tailored suit and silk tie. It brought it home to her again that she didn't know him. And, God help her, she loved him anyway. Turning, she began to fiddle with an arrangement of cut glass.

“I'm sorry, Vance, but I have a few things to finish up here before I leave. I'm supposed to go to Donna's tonight.”

“She didn't seem to expect you,” he commented as he walked to her. Gently, he laid his hands on her shoulders. “Shane—”

She stiffened immediately. “Don't!”

Very slowly, he took his hands from her, then dropped them to his sides. “All right, damn it, I won't touch you.” The words came out savagely as he whirled away.

“Vance, I told you I'm busy.”

“You said that you loved me.”

Shane spun around, white with anger. “How can you throw that in my face?”

“Was it a lie?” he demanded.

She opened her mouth but closed it again before any impetuous words could be spoken. Lifting her chin, she looked at him steadily. “I loved the man you pretended to be.”

He winced, but he didn't back away. “Direct hit, Shane,” he said quietly. “You surprise me.”

“Why, because I'm not as stupid as you thought I was?”

Anger flashed into his eyes, then dulled. “Don't.”

Shaken by the pain in the single word, she turned away. “I'm sorry, Vance. I don't want to say spiteful things. It would be better for both of us if you just went away.”

“The hell it would, if you've been half as miserable as I've been. Have you been able to sleep, Shane? I haven't.”

“Please,” she whispered.

He took a deep breath as his hands clenched into fists. He'd come prepared to fight with her, to bully her, to plead with her. Now, it seemed he could do nothing but try to fumble through an explanation. “All right, I'll go, but only if you listen to me first.”

“Vance,” she said wearily, “what difference will it make?”

The finality of her tone had fear twisting in his stomach. With a strong effort, he kept his voice calm. “If that's true, it won't hurt you to listen.”

“All right.” Shane turned back to face him. “All right, I'll listen.”

He was quiet for a moment, then began to pace as though whatever ran through him wouldn't allow him to keep still. “I came here because I had to get away, maybe even hide. I'm not sure anymore. I was still very young when I took over the company. It wasn't what I wanted.” He stopped for a moment to send her a direct look. “I'm a carpenter, Shane, that was the truth. I'm president of Riverton because I have to be.
Why
doesn't really matter at this point, but a title, a position, doesn't change who I am.” When she said nothing, he began to pace again.

“I was married to a woman you'd recognize very quickly. She was beautiful, charming and pure plastic. She was totally self-consumed, emotionless, even vicious.” Shane's brows drew together as she thought of Anne. “Unfortunately, I didn't recognize the last of those qualities until it was too late.” He stopped because the next words were difficult. “I married the woman she pretended to be.” Because his back was to her, Vance didn't see the sudden change in Shane's expression. Pain rushed into her eyes, but it wasn't for herself. It was all for him.

“For all intents and purposes, the marriage was over very soon after it had begun. I couldn't make a legal break at first because too many things were involved. So, we lived together in mutual distaste for several years. I involved myself in the company to the point of obsession, while she began to take lovers. I wanted her out of my life more than I wanted anything. Then, when she was dead, I had to live with the knowledge that I'd wished her dead countless times.”

“Oh, Vance,” Shane murmured.

“That was over two years ago,” he continued. “I buried myself in work . . . and bitterness. I'd come to a point where I didn't even recognize myself anymore. That's why I bought the house and took a leave of absence. I needed to separate myself from what I'd become, try to find out if that was all there was to me.” He dragged an agitated hand through his hair. “I brought the bitterness with me, so that when you popped up and started haunting my mind, I wanted nothing more than to be rid of you. I looked . . . I searched,” he corrected, turning to her again, “for flaws in you. I was afraid to believe you could really be so . . . generous. The truth was, I didn't want you to be because I'd never be able to resist the woman you are.” His eyes were suddenly very dark and very direct on hers. “I didn't want you, Shane, and I wanted you so badly I ached. I loved you, I think, from the very first minute.”