Heartbreak, Tennessee (13 page)

But he shouldn’t have
said all those things, he chided himself. Stupid. How stupid could a guy get? The
fates had delivered the one dream he’d held onto, and he’d been foolish enough
to hope for more.
It felt so right
...hah.
He sounded like a Hallmark card. Couldn’t he have come up with something more
original?

Or better yet, just
kept his damn mouth shut?

She hadn’t said
anything in reply, probably not wanting to embarrass him for sounding like a
love-struck teenage dolt.

Now she was sleeping
peacefully, her long legs twined with his, her graceful arms draped across his
chest. He could feel the beat of her heart, smell the perfume of her hair,
faintly spicy and flowery at the same time.

If only he could
preserve this moment. But soon she’d wake up, and then what?

The impossibility of
the situation frustrated him so deeply that he wanted to curse, to pound his
fists against something. He felt powerless to do the one thing he longed for
more than anything in the world.

To keep her with him. To
hold her tightly, forever, so that she would never again run.

But even as he held
her, he knew she soon would slip away. There was too much between them, a chasm
he couldn’t even begin to understand. And she wouldn’t—couldn’t—explain
it. For the thousandth time he racked his memory, searching for the one clue he’d
overlooked that might explain why she’d gone.

Amber stirred gently
in his arms. He held his breath until she relaxed, then pulled the blanket up a
little further on her shoulders. The heat of the day had been quelled by the
rain showers, and now it was almost chilly, the breeze teasing, deceiving. In
the morning a scorching sun would rise and burn it away and the mist would be a
memory.

As would their night
together.

Amber stirred again,
and a small whimper escaped her lips. She was dreaming, troubled. Mac stilled
himself, praying that she’d slip back into sleep and rest against him a little
longer.

But she slowly woke. He
could tell because her breathing changed, and her limbs tensed, the release of
their lovemaking and deep sleep ebbing away. He wondered what she was thinking,
as she remembered whose bed she shared, how she’d spent the last few hours.

Her face, as she
rolled away from him and deftly covered her body with the blanket, offered no
clue.

“Mac,” she said
softly, her eyes clouded with an emotion he couldn’t read. “I have to go.”

“No,” he said, “Stay
with me. Morning’s just a few hours away. What difference can it make?” He
longed to reach for her, pull her back to him, but something told him to hold
back.

Amber shook her head
and swung her feet to the floor, her back to him. He gazed at the pale stretch
of flawless skin, the graceful nape of her neck, the red hair cascading in a
disarray he found even more becoming than her sleek new style. She ran her
fingers through it before rising and dressing in the faint glow from the porch
lights he’d left on below the window.

“I just have to go,
that’s all. I need to get a little sleep and wake up in my own room and be
fresh for tomorrow. Sheryn’s husband was coming in tonight, and he’ll want to
get together first thing in the morning. He’ll want to go over a million things
that Sheryn hasn’t even thought about yet. There’s zoning issues, city council,
chamber of commerce...”

As Amber kept up a
steady stream of talk, she dressed quickly, shrugging into the red dress that
lay puddled on the floor. She smoothed the wrinkles with a few distracted
motions, easing the fabric over her hips. Mac sat up on his elbows, watching
her dress, aching to keep her with him. The night, without her, stretched long
and empty before him.

Suddenly she stopped,
jammed her fingers through her hair and bit her lip, looking around her.

“Shoes,” she said. “Where
are my shoes?”

“I think...you might
find them somewhere on the stairs. Between here and the couch, at any rate.” Mac
spoke as delicately as possible. He remembered one of the leather flats sliding
off her arched foot as he lifted her from the couch, another thudding down the
stairs as he carried her to his bedroom. Memories of the night before crowded
his thoughts, and he didn’t trust his voice not to quake if he elaborated.

Nor did he trust his
body not to respond if he got up to see her go. Feeling helpless, he waited as
a long, emotion-laden moment hung between them.

“Oh.” Amber studied
the floor, her hands twisting together in anxiety. “Well, look, Mac, I suppose
at some point we have to talk about last night—”

Mac winced as the
words sliced through him.

“—but I just can’t
do it now, so can we wait until things settle down with my job?”

“Tomorrow,” Mac said
quickly. “I mean, today. Whatever. Have lunch with me later.”

Amber hugged one arm
tightly to her waist and shifted her feet. “Lunch...I’m sure I’ll need to spend
it with Gray and Sheryn. I was supposed to have contacted the city council by
now and—”

“For God’s sake,
Amber,” Mac said, his voice betraying the anguish he felt. “Just lunch, okay? We
can eat in town. In public. I promise, I won’t seduce you or even lay a hand on
you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No...no. It’s not
that. I’m sorry.” She stepped to his bedside, offering a hand. He caught and
held it, feeling as though he were clutching a lifeline.

And then he forced
himself to release her.

“I’m sorry,” she said
again. “I’ll call you later.”

And she disappeared to
the hall, the sound of her bare feet on the stairs muffled. He could hear
Heather and Randy’s toes clicking on the floor as they dashed to besiege her
with affection, and a few murmured words from Amber before he heard the front
door open and then latch shut. A moment later the car started and sped away.

The luminous dial of
his bedside clock glowed 3:20. Mac went to the sink for a glass of water, drinking
deeply to soothe his parched throat. The dogs, who were not permitted on the
second floor, whined below as they heard him moving around.

For a couple more
hours, he tried to sleep, fragmented memories of times with Amber jolting him
back to consciousness whenever he was about to drift off. When the early light
began to glow outside, he rose and dressed in an old T-shirt and shorts and
went downstairs.

He picked up his novel
and turned to the page he’d been trying to read for the last week. Stretched
out long on the couch with the dogs thumping their tails on the floor below, it
was only minutes before he sank into a deep, dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

“Aw, hell,” Mac
muttered under his breath as he pulled a few more leaves off the stems he held
in his hand. Picking wildflowers had seemed like a pretty good idea earlier in
the morning as he drank a second cup of coffee strong enough to peel paint and
let the memories of the night before wash over him, his skin warming when some
of the finer details came to mind.

The Black-eyed Susans
looked so pretty in the clearing out past the wood pile. Somehow, though, they
weren’t quite coming together into the bouquet he had in mind. With a final
oath Mac tossed the rough stems into the sink and swiped his car keys off the
counter, glancing at the clock as he strode for the door.

Eleven o’clock.

They hadn’t exactly
set a time, or a place, for lunch. For that matter, Amber hadn’t exactly agreed
to meet him, either.

But there was nothing
Mac could do about that. He could try to track Amber down and collect on the
lunch date, or he could head on in to work as though it was just another day,
as though he hadn’t just spent one of the most amazing nights of his life.

Besides, if he didn’t
seek her out on his own terms, the next time they met might be over this crazy
plan of Sheryn’s. He didn’t doubt his ability to squash the development, but he
was pretty sure it wouldn’t raise his stock any in her eyes. Given the
alternatives, he’d just as soon give it his best shot now.

“Take care of the
place,” Mac called in the direction of the kitchen. In response, twin tails
thumped from under the table. Mac had barely touched his omelet and toast,
sliding the contents of his plate into the dog bowls after a few bites, so the
beagles were well fed and happy.

Too bad people weren’t
as easy to please as dogs, Mac brooded as he started up the truck. A good meal,
a warm place to lie down at night - those were things he took for granted. And
Mac had been further blessed with an honest living, his health, friends, plenty
of women who’d be glad to keep him company.

“That ought to be
enough, damn it!” Mac swore to no one in particular, slamming his free hand on
the dash as he drove down the familiar roads.

It had been enough for
his father. Mac was sure that any love that had graced his parents’ marriage
had long since slipped away. He had always assumed that Fran and Pete had sex
just once, since he was born nine months after their honeymoon. They never
touched, never exchanged a covert kiss or even a cursory peck on the cheek as
his father left for the shop early every morning.

No, there was very
little pleasure in his parents’ union. Better for his father if they’d never
met, Mac thought. Marrying Fran was the biggest mistake of Pete’s life, an
admission ticket to a forty-year harangue.

There were worse
things than solitude, and besides, McBaines were self-reliant creatures, plenty
capable of shouldering life’s burdens alone.

Mac was proof of that.

But what if his father
had had a chance to love someone the way Mac loved Amber...

Their lovemaking the
night before had stirred long-buried memories, setting them in motion. He and
Amber should have been celebrating nearly a decade and a half of marriage by
now. They might have had kids, shared a house, a pot of coffee in the mornings,
a tired caress at the end of a long day.

Much as he tried to
convince himself otherwise, Mac knew that if Amber had stayed and become his
wife, their life together would have been nothing like his parents’.

But instead she had
left, shutting down his dreams without a word of explanation.

But today he was going
to see her again. Today he might learn a little more, ask the right questions,
touch the vulnerable part of her that he knew was still there. Somewhere.

Mac grabbed his phone
and stabbed at the buttons as he drove.

“Junior,” he growled. “Can
you guys get by without me for a few more hours?”

The note jammed into
the door frame was written on a page torn from a yellow pad like the ones Amber
seemed never to be without these days. “Dear Mac, Something came up,” it read
in her familiar hand. “Sorry.”

Mac yanked it from the
door and crumpled it tightly in one fist, trying to quell his rising
frustration. What he really felt like doing was sending his fist through the
flimsy motel room door, but he wasn’t about to pull a stunt like the other day.
Leaving this same room in a fury had gotten him exactly nowhere.

A couple deep breaths.
Then Mac turned and leaned his elbows on the iron railing overlooking the parking
lot, letting the sun warm his face as he tried to decide what to do next.

“Hello, friend,” a
deep, unfamiliar voice said at his side. Mac turned slowly. A big man in his
fifties stood smiling with his hand extended. Mac hesitated only a moment before
shaking it, the powerful grip warm and sincere.

“Don’t think I know
you,” Mac said. The man’s chambray shirt and jeans didn’t stand out in
Heartbreak, but the boots were clearly handmade, their workmanship splendid and
obviously expensive. And clean. This gentleman hadn’t been walking through any
dusty fields lately.

“Gray Sawyer,” the man
said amiably. “And I bet you’re Mac.”

“Yeah, I’ll admit to
that, I guess. Lawrence McBaine, actually, but nobody calls me that.”

“And, you’re looking
for Amber.”

“Two for two.” Mac
kept his voice steady, but felt his jaw harden. How was it that his business
was making itself known to strangers who just got into town?

“Aw, don’t mind me,”
Gray said, tossing an arm casually over Mac’s shoulder as the two resumed
staring out at the parking lot. “I’m just trying to help. Sometimes where the
ladies are concerned, I think we’d do well to stick together. Am I right?”

“Hmm.”

“Anyway, you ever hear
of something called the Bear Creek Trail?”

Mac said nothing for a
moment. But yeah, he’d heard of it. Walked it a thousand times. At least a
hundred of them with Amber, carrying a cooler and a blanket, making their way
carefully up the stony trail, high above the small valley carved by the nearly
dry creek, until they found a patch of grass in the trees near the top of the
ridge.