Five Days in Skye: A Novel (22 page)

“Jamie! Andrea! You made it!”

Andrea jerked her head up and found Bree standing at the edge of the table, looking down at them. She had squeezed her voluptuous figure into a short, tight black dress that left little to the imagination, and she held a sequined clutch under one arm.

James tone remained calm and impeccably polite. “Hello, Bree.”

She waited, clearly expecting to be invited to sit down, but nobody said a word. They just looked back at her. She tried again. “This is such a nice little reunion. Why don’t we get a picture?” She dug a digital camera from her purse and held it up to view the screen.

Andrea became uncomfortably aware of James’s arm around her, the press of his body alongside hers. She nudged him aside so she could slide from the booth. “Since this is a Skye reunion, I’ll excuse myself. Lila, where’s the ladies’ room?”

“Back behind the bar to the right. Do you want me to show you?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” Andrea felt a little wobbly as she stood, and she saw a few concerned glances fly her direction. She must be pale, if her dizziness was any indication.

“She doesn’t like having her picture taken,” James explained.

Andrea hurried away from the table, but not before she heard Cam’s incredulous reply. “I can’t imagine why when she looks like that. Nicely done, Jamie.”

She pressed her hands to her face as she pushed her way through the crowd. Her heart beat too fast in her chest, though she didn’t know which made her feel more panicky—the threat of being photographed with James or the thoughts Bree had interrupted.

The ladies’ room was crowded, but most of the activity was pressed around the mirror, so Andrea slipped into an unoccupied cubicle and shut the door. She was too practical to let her feelings get this out of control. She was making far too much of the situation. James hadn’t said anything about any future intentions, and what she felt now was merely infatuation. He was a good-looking, charismatic man, and she’d allowed herself to fall a little too deeply under his spell. When she went back to New York, he would pick up where he left off with some twenty-year-old actress, and Andrea would be forgotten as a temporary distraction. Hadn’t Ian warned her as much?

She was a grown woman with a successful career and a satisfying, well-ordered life. She would be fine. She gathered herself, breathing deeply until she felt some semblance of calm returning. Just as she was about to open the door, she heard an unfamiliar voice outside.

“Did you see the woman with Jamie MacDonald tonight?”

A second woman answered, her tone knowing. “Just his type. Thin, gorgeous, disposable …”

The first woman laughed maliciously. “She’s pulling out all the stops, isn’t she?”

“You know Jamie. He’s always had a weakness for a pretty face. Too bad he never keeps them around long.”

“Mmm. This one is American. Convenient, that.”

Humiliation flooded through Andrea. James’s conquests, real or not, were well known. They probably thought she’d been spending the last week in his bed, even though he’d been scrupulously careful not to cross any boundaries.

“Well,” the other girl said, “I suppose she’s getting what she wants out of the deal, isn’t she?”

Anger snuffed out humiliation in an instant. Andrea threw open the door and strode out of the stall toward the two women standing in front of the mirror. To her shock, one of them was Gail, the hostess from the seafood restaurant on Skye. The woman’s eyes widened.

Andrea stepped up beside her, pleased she towered over the other woman in her heels. She took her lipstick from her purse and applied a light coat, then winked at Gail in the mirror. “I admit, there are perks to my job. Have a nice evening, ladies.”

She managed to smile as she left the restroom, strutting back toward the stage. At least she hadn’t let them see how their words had shaken her. Halfway there, she stopped. She couldn’t face the scrutiny of James’s friends, couldn’t pretend as though everything was fine. No matter what she told herself, fine felt far out of reach.

Chapter Thirty

James glanced at his watch as the lights lowered in preparation for the band’s return to the stage. Andrea had been gone at least ten minutes. Surely the ladies’ room wasn’t as crowded as that? He excused himself from the table and made his way back through the throng, scanning the room as he went. He peeked down the hallway where the restrooms lay, but there wasn’t a line outside the door. Frowning, he pushed down the packed corridor and out the front door.

Andrea stood by the entrance, arms wrapped around herself, staring into the dark.

“Andrea, what are you doing out here? What’s wrong?”

She started at his voice. “I just needed to escape the crowd.”

“I thought you were having a good time.”

“I was,” she said brightly. “But now I’d just like to go back to the hotel if that’s okay.”

“Of course.”

She thrust her hands in her coat pockets, a sure sign she didn’t want him to touch her, so he kept his distance as they walked back toward the car park. Just a few minutes ago, she had been relaxing in his arms, enjoying the show, charming his friends. Then Bree came along with her camera, and Andrea panicked. He supposed he couldn’t blame her. After what she’d been through with Logan, exposing herself to scrutiny here was already a challenge.

“We should talk.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay, James. You don’t have to say anything.”

The use of his given name hit him like a punch in the gut. She was pulling back from him, distancing herself. “I don’t think you understand.”

She favored him with a small, chilly smile. “I understand just fine. Don’t worry. I’m a big girl. This was fun.”

“Fun? You think I was just passing the time?”

“Weren’t you? You didn’t want me here in the first place. You thought it would be amusing to seduce the consultant Ian foisted on you.”

He grabbed her arm and jerked her to a stop. “When have I ever given you any reason to believe my intentions were less than honorable? When have I ever treated you with anything but respect?”

She glared at him. “Let go of me.”

He released her arm, and she picked up her pace again, hurrying toward the car. She yanked the door handle, but James reached around her and held the door shut. “Andrea, I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes flew to his face, shocked. His heart rose into his throat. This was not how he’d imagined this happening. He’d wanted to tell her in some romantic way, not in the middle of a car park.

“That’s impossible. You can’t be. We’ve known each other for five days.”

“Possible or not, it’s how I feel.”

“I can’t do this. I can’t.… I won’t.”

James had no choice but to press forward. “You won’t what? You won’t take a chance? You won’t let yourself feel something?”

“I won’t let you make me forget everything I’ve worked for. I’ve made a life for myself. I’ve sacrificed for it.”

“And exactly what did you have to sacrifice?”

Her eyes flashed. “What are you implying?”

“Not what you’re inferring, I’m sure. Tell me, what are you going to do when you get home tomorrow?”

She frowned. “Pack for my trip to Toronto. It’s been planned for weeks. What are you getting at?”

“It’s easy to sacrifice when there’s nothing to give up, when you live your life in one-week increments so you don’t have to get attached to anyone or anything. That’s not living, Andrea; that’s existing. There’s a difference.”

“You fly all over the UK to check on your restaurants and your business deals. How is that any different?”

“It’s different because I take chances. They may not work out, but at least I don’t live my life by the lowest common denominator. Take a risk, actually feel something for a change.”

Before she could react, he slid his hand behind her back and pulled her to him. In the past, he had kissed her playfully or seductively; now his mouth came down hard and insistent on hers, his body pressing her back against the car. She resisted for a moment and then softened against him, her arms going around his neck, her fingers sliding into his hair. He felt a flash of triumph as she pulled him more tightly against her, returning his kiss with a passion he hadn’t dared to imagine.

“Say
cheese
,” a saccharine voice called just before the flash of a camera cut through the dark.

Andrea jerked away from James, too stunned by the kiss to understand what had happened. Then she saw Bree holding her digital camera, a brilliant, malicious smile on her face.

A wave of panic crashed over Andrea. There could be no denying the situation. She was still pinned between James and his car, every inch of their bodies touching, her hands in his hair. She struggled away from him, sparks bursting in her vision. She was only a breath away from passing out.

James swore. “I’ve thought you were a lot of things, Bree, but spiteful was never one of them.”

Bree smirked. “I’m not the one snogging his newest conquest in public. Good night, Jamie. Good night, Andrea. Enjoy your evening.”

Her poisonous tone only increased Andrea’s dread. “Let’s go before we draw any more attention to ourselves,” she pleaded in a low voice.

He opened the door for her, and she slid in, happy to be enveloped in the dark, away from Bree’s malicious gaze. The woman couldn’t possibly do anything with the photo, could she? Surely she was just trying to get a rise out of them.

She pressed her fingertips to her eyes. Somehow, Bree seemed like the least of her worries. James wasn’t playing fair. He knew the effect he had on her, and he was using it against her. She had been here before, though. She had refused to recognize lust masquerading as love when it had come to Logan. She had been seduced into a relationship that was completely wrong, and she’d paid the price.

Never mind the fact James had gone to great lengths to be sure they wouldn’t be tempted into doing something they’d regret. It was not his motivations that worried her. It was hers. She could not deny the powerful attraction between them, how she lost the will to resist any time he touched her. But that was not love. Maybe she couldn’t feel love.

What could she offer him anyway? He might think she was enough right now, but she saw the way he loved his niece and nephew, how he doted on his aunt. He knew how to fill a home with warmth. He deserved a woman who could give him children of his own, who wouldn’t always regret how her past decisions had robbed them of their own family.

“Andrea.” James reached for her hand, but she shook it off. This had to end now. If she let him touch her again, her resolve would weaken. She would let him convince her that what she offered was enough, and then she would spend the rest of her life making him unhappy. That was something she couldn’t do to him.

The silence during the short ride back to the hotel lay thick with tension. After they parked, he opened her car door as he always did, but he didn’t try to touch her. They walked side by side up the front steps and across the foyer, but they may as well have been miles apart.

When they stopped in front of her room, James reached for her.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He dropped his hands. “If you need time, I’ll give you time. Go home, take your trip to Toronto. I’ll clear my schedule. You can show me around New York.”

“We both know that can’t happen, James.” She recoiled at the look of anguish in his eyes, but she forced herself to kiss him softly on the cheek. “Good-bye.”

Then she put the key in the door and stepped inside, trying not to see the look of hurt on his face as she shut the door.

James stared at the brass number plate on Andrea’s door, unable to draw a breath beneath the iron band that constricted his chest. He could barely pull his thoughts together enough to turn away and return to his own room down the hall.

He had lost her.

He only had himself to blame. She wasn’t ready to be truthful about her feelings for him, let alone accept that he loved her. He’d thought their mutual attraction was the way to break through her defenses, to get her to open up the possibility of more, but maybe it went no further than that.

He let himself into his room with numb efficiency. How could he have messed this up so badly? Just today, they had been planning his trip to New York, thinking about the future, and now she wouldn’t speak to him.

He pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the bed. Then he sank down onto the edge and put his head in his hands.

I don’t understand, Lord. Was I wrong about her? Was I wrong about this?

He’d loved Cassandra, but his trust had been misplaced. She had never been content to just be with him and enjoy his company. It had all been about leveraging their combined celebrity to further their careers. Their relationship had just been a slight of hand, smoke and mirrors. He’d even begun to doubt his judgment, his own heart, when it came to women.

Yet everything in him told him Andrea and the feelings she stirred were real.

James exhaled heavily and fell back on the bed. Maybe once she slept on the matter, he could get through to her. He couldn’t let her go with things standing like this between them.

Andrea marked the passing of the night by the change of the glowing red numbers on the hotel room’s clock. Every time she shut her eyes, she could see the shock and hurt on James’s face as she’d closed the door. He had meant it when he said he was in love with her.

He hadn’t actually said, “I love you.” That was different, wasn’t it? She would leave, and he would move on, and it would be like she had never come.

That was splitting hairs, and she knew it.

She lifted the receiver of the hotel phone, then glanced at the clock. 4:00 a.m. She put it back in the cradle. She wouldn’t wake him yet.

When 6:00 a.m. rolled by without a single minute of sleep, she wandered into the bathroom and splashed water on her face. When she came back out, she picked up her cell phone from habit and saw she had an email waiting. What could be coming through at this time on a Saturday morning?

Andrea opened her email app. It was an Internet alert. What scandal had one of her clients gotten himself involved in this time? Rich men seemed to spend as much time in the tabloids and gossip columns for their escapades with women, controlled substances, and law enforcement as for their business deals. She tapped the screen to follow the link to a popular UK gossip site.

The browser opened to a photo, and the air whooshed out of her lungs. Front and center was a photo of her and James kissing in the parking lot, their arms wrapped around each other. She sank to the bed on unsteady legs. It had been a private moment never meant for public consumption, and now it was posted on the Internet for all to see.

Her face burned with humiliation and fury as she read the headline: “Who Is Jamie’s Tasty New Dish?” She couldn’t even read the short blurb below it—her hands trembled too hard to steady the screen.

She wrapped her arms around herself, swallowing bile.
This can’t be happening. Thousands of people will see that. Hundreds of thousands. My sister. My colleagues. Michael.

She dropped the phone and fled to the bathroom in time to empty her stomach into the toilet. She wiped her mouth with the back of a shaky hand and gripped the porcelain until the nausea subsided and she was sure she could stand under her own power.