Back in His Bed: Boardroom Rivals, Bedroom Fireworks! / Unfinished Business with the Duke / How to Win the Dating War. Heidi RiceЧитать онлайн книгу.
any reason, she told herself.
In the meantime, sitting around moping in frustration wasn’t going to change anything—at least she knew that much. She also had a to-do list a mile long, and she wouldn’t accomplish any of it hiding out in her lab.
Her first stop was the storeroom, where the banal task of inventory was waiting for her. Before she could get started, though, her cellphone rang. Fishing it out of her back pocket, she checked the number. What could Di want?
“Where’s Jack?”
She eyeballed the boxes containing bottles, mentally calculating. “At the main house, I assume.”
“No, because I’m at the main house. His car’s gone.”
Brenna’s heart jumped in her chest, then sank. Which is it? she asked herself. Am I happy or not? “Gone?”
Di sounded exasperated. “I can’t believe he’d take off without telling anyone. That’s just plain rude. And after what you said about last night…”
It was a bit of a slap in the face. “Jack can come and go as he pleases. He doesn’t owe anyone any kind of explanation.”
“Maybe he just went into town for something. Want me to check his room and see if his stuff’s gone? It would give us a clue if he’s planning on coming back or not.”
“Di, no. If he’s not coming back he’ll call. Or have his lawyer call. It’s not like anything is settled. We should enjoy the break while we can.”
Then why didn’t she feel any relief? She still felt the tightness around her chest that hurt when she breathed. Good thing I didn’t sleep with him.
“But Brenna…”
“Don’t you have something you need to do? Something useful?”
“Fine.” Dianne grumbled. “But I wonder where he went? And why?”
Me, too. “It’s not our business.”
She wasn’t naïve enough to believe Jack had simply given up and gone home, and the knots in her stomach tightened. No, Jack had something cooking, and she wasn’t going to like it.
“You’re off your game. That’s the closest I’ve come to beating you in five years.” Roger bounced the blue ball in his direction and Jack caught it easily. “Whatever it is, keep it up. I could get used to not having my ass handed to me twice a week.”
Roger’s words echoed in the enclosed court as he wiped a towel across his sweaty face. Jack took aim, then sent the ball flying down the court to bounce off the wall and hit Roger in the leg. “I’ll never be that off my game.”
But Roger was right. He was distracted. Two days of dealing with Brenna and he couldn’t even keep his mind on a racquetball game. He couldn’t decide which was more of a distraction, though: remembering the feel of her skin and the way she’d reacted to his touch, or the look on her face when she accused him of breaking her heart.
“I have three ex-wives, remember?” Roger continued as he packed up his gear. “As your attorney and your friend, I can tell you it never gets any better. The path of least resistance is your best bet. Expensive, but expedient. If you want to stay sane, that is.”
“I think I’ve figured that out for myself.” Jack opened the door and stepped out into the cool air of the gym. Brenna had been up and gone before he’d left the house this morning, so he had no idea how she was handling everything that had happened last night.
He’d finally figured out what he wanted around three o’clock this morning, and having a plan had allowed him to finally sleep a little. The erotic dreams of Bren awaiting him had been nice, but the memory of those dreams was definitely a distraction this morning.
“That’s a shame. I was looking forward to stomping on you in the near future.”
Jack shrugged as Roger fell into step beside him and they headed for the locker room. He had a three o’clock meeting, and he needed to put in a couple of hours at the office before he headed back to Sonoma.
“You know, investing in a winery sounds interesting.”
Jack stopped. “Good Lord, not you, too? It’s like an epidemic. Everywhere I turn, someone wants to own a winery.”
Roger grinned. “Except you, for some reason.”
“Because I have no romantic notions about wine-making.” Jack returned the greetings of the socialites at the juice bar, and got moving again before any of them decided to come over and say hello in person. He didn’t have time—or the inclination at the moment—to deal with that.
Roger trotted to catch up. “Come on, how difficult could it be? Stomp a few grapes, mingle with the tourists, drink a lot. Sounds like a sweet job to me.”
Jack spared a glance to see if Roger was kidding. Shockingly, Jack didn’t think he was. “When was the last time you were in a vineyard?”
“I took the tour a couple of years ago, when the last set of in-laws visited.”
Maybe Bren was right about not selling to just anyone. “And that makes you an expert, of course. Trust me, Brenna would cheerfully and painfully remove your feet if you put them anywhere near her precious grapes.”
Roger spun the dial on his locker casually. “I’m surprised you’re being so generous. Brenna Walsh must really love you.”
That stopped him in his tracks. “What?”
Backtracking, Roger sputtered. “I mean, you’re the best ex-husband a woman could ask for. She can’t be cursing your name too often.”
He doubted that. Brenna was probably burning him in effigy right now.
“You’re setting a bad precedent for the rest of us,” Roger continued.
Jack closed his locker with a satisfying bang. “Tell you what. You deal with your ex-wives, and I’ll deal with mine.”
Roger put his hands up and backed away. “Fine. I’ll have the papers on your desk this afternoon.”
Good. He’d have them in hand when he went back to Amante Verano tonight. He’d use the weekend to go through the rest of Max’s things and get Brenna on board with the new plan. By Monday this whole situation would be off his plate and his life could go back to normal.
As the hot water of the shower kneaded his muscles, he realized there was still one last possible problem with his plan. Was Brenna over last night’s debacle yet, or was she nursing her anger today, building steam to go another round or two? The fight, the rehashing of the past—it all left a bad taste in his mouth, but it didn’t dampen the fire in his blood. Remembering Brenna’s physical response only fanned it. He’d reacquainted himself with the way she smelled and the feel of her skin. If he’d just kept his big mouth shut…
Grimacing, he turned the water to cold and pushed the image of Brenna—deliciously wet and covered only in a scrap of fabric—from his mind. He had a lot of real work to do today, and a raging erection wasn’t going to help.
Concentrating on the zoning issues for the new property in Sacramento did help, and while he might have been slightly distracted during the endless meetings, he managed to keep Brenna off his mind for the better part of the afternoon.
As promised, Roger’s courier had the documents on his desk before the end of the business day, and Brenna was once again front and center in his thoughts. Only this time it was the image of Brenna, teary-eyed and trying to hold it together, that kept appearing.
Brenna had said she was finished crying for him. And she’d said it so candidly, without any other pretense; he was leaning toward believing it. Had she cried alone? Without him knowing?
That would make him a first-class bastard who deserved to have her walk out on him.
Yet