Heartbreak, Tennessee (7 page)

His hand settled on
her wrist, gripping it tightly. When she jerked away, his hold grew even
firmer. Changing her wistful sadness to anger.

“Let go,” she hissed. “I
don’t owe you anything. You seem to have forgotten that the last time we were
together you were the one who told me to get out of your sight.”

“I was angry -”


“You called me a liar.”

“There had to be some
mistake. I shouldn’t have turned on you that way, I know, but what you were
telling me was...well, it wasn’t right, it wasn’t possible. I needed some time.”

“Well, then you should
be happy. I gave you all the time in the world.”

“Yes, you did.” Mac
released her wrist then, and pulled back to regard her, anger flashing in his
eyes.

Amber steadied her
breathing with sheer determination. “You know, I called you,” she said, once it
was under control. “When my mother died.”

“I didn’t get any
message.”

“I didn’t leave one. I—I
would have known Candace Copeland’s voice anywhere. A
cheerleader
, Mac? Homecoming queen? I never would have guessed her
to be your type.” Amber was surprised at the bitterness in her own voice.

A flash of irritation
passed in Mac’s eyes. “Candace was nothing, Amber. A brief interlude.”

“She was obviously
living with you. Answering your phone late at night. I sure wouldn’t call that
nothing.”

Mac sighed. “You were
gone. Remember? You’d been gone a year, and I’d heard nothing from you. Candace
and I...well, we spent some time together. I suppose I should have been clearer
with her from the start, because as it turns out we had different expectations
of where the relationship was going. But don’t feel too sorry for her. She did
real well. Married a doctor over in Kingsport.”

“Good for her,” Amber
said sarcastically, only slightly mollified.

“
This...isn’t...about her
,” Mac said, drawing closer to her, never
releasing his grip on her. His hand was dry and warm, the rough planes of his
palm and fingers cradling her wrist more gently now. Despite herself, Amber
felt small twinges of sensation traveling up her arm and into the rest of her
body, which responded of its own volition.

“Why didn’t you come
back when your mother died?” he pressed, locking his gaze on hers. Though she
tried to look away, there was something in the sea of his blue eyes that
compelled her to meet him in the space between them.

“I—I thought
about it,” she said. “But there wasn’t anything left. The fire was so bad—they
said there was nothing they could save, nothing for me to bury. They were still
picking up pieces of the car at the bottom of that cliff when they got a hold
of me.”

“I’m sorry,” Mac said,
the change of his tone immediate and complete. “I never had the chance to tell
you that—how sorry I am.”

He spoke as one who
knew the pain of loss.

Amber shook her head. His
anger she could handle. She wasn’t prepared for his compassion. “It was a long
time ago.”

She drew her hand
back, taking advantage of him relaxing his grip. She looked at her watch, not
even seeing the numbers on the dial. “I have to go, Mac,” she said, avoiding
his eyes. “Thanks for the tea. Maybe I’ll see you around.” She laughed
mirthlessly. “Who am I kidding? In this place, I’m sure to see you around town,
all half dozen blocks of it.”

“You think you’ve
really changed, don’t you?” Mac said softly, standing with her. She knew she
should turn and go, but she stood rooted to the spot. “You think you’ve erased
everything—” his broad hands swept an arc through the air “—this
town, these people, this place that was your home for eighteen years. And me
too. You’ve just banished me from your memory, is that it? As though it never
happened.”

Without realizing what
she was doing, Amber stepped closer, her mouth poised to protest, eyebrows knit
together in distress. He didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. Yes, he was
right about her wanting to forget, trying and working so hard to forget.

He didn’t understand
that most nights when she drew the covers up and turned out the lamp, her last
thought before sleep was of him, even as she hated herself for her weakness. That
she’d surrounded herself with people and things that were as different as
possible from her past, so she wouldn’t have to remember. That the men in her
life, the few that had come and gone, had been nothing like Mac.

“Well, Amber, I can’t
forget.” Mac’s gaze, clouded now with anxiety, was fixed on her, but rather
than pull away from the scrutiny, Amber found herself drawn closer still.

It was meant to be a
gesture of dismissal, a good-bye; when Amber lifted her hand to touch Mac’s
face—softly, just once—she moved without forethought. Her fingers
sought to communicate the regret, apology, pain that her words could not.

When he caught her
wrist, his hand moving with lightning speed, it shocked her into awareness. She
pulled back, but his grip was strong.

“Don’t,” he commanded,
his voice low and threatening. “Don’t ever touch me again unless...unless you
intend to finish what you started back then.”

A challenge mixed with
the anguish in his eyes. Amber flushed, but the sensation that filled her mind
was not shame but arousal. The warmth of his touch mingled with his smells—soap,
the old familiar smell of motor oil, and his own scent, something she could not
describe but would know anywhere. The warmth of his hand reminded her that his
body had always been so warm; even in the dead of winter he emanated heat, his
blood pulsing hot even at rest.

“Let go,” she pleaded,
weakly.

“Fine,” Mac said,
releasing her and stepping back. “So, I suppose we’ve settled what’s off
limits. The boundaries don’t appear to have shifted much.”

“It—it doesn’t
matter. I’m here for a few days, then I’m gone. Let’s both just try to keep out
of each other’s way.”

“Well, avoiding each
other might be a little tough to do,” Mac said.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a couple of
things I may have forgotten to mention before,” Mac said. “I happen to head up
the Preservation Society here in town. Somewhere along the way I picked up an
interest in keeping this old crossroads just the way it is.”

“Oh, no,” Amber
breathed.

“And...what was the
other thing? Oh yeah - I’m the mayor.”

“Thank God you’re
home,” Amber said, wrapping the phone cord around her hand nervously.

“The old gal have you
on the run, eh?” Gray Sawyer’s chuckle was so warm and familiar that Amber felt
tears spring to her eyes. She was alone in her hotel room, but had promised to
take Sheryn over to the beauty shop for a facial in fifteen minutes so tears
were out of the question. There was no time to re-do her makeup. She cleared
her throat.

“No, Sheryn’s fine. In
fact I think she’s having a good time here, much to my surprise. It’s just—something’s
come up. Something personal. I’ll tell you about it later. I just was
wondering...”

She hesitated. Gray
was big brother, father, mentor, all rolled into one, and she knew he wouldn’t
refuse, no matter what she asked him. At the same time she hated to take
advantage of his kindness.

Mac was a problem, a
problem that just required a little time to solve once and for all. He shouldn’t
be reducing her to jelly this way.

“I’ll be there by tomorrow
night,” Gray said when she didn’t continue. “There’s nothing going on here that
can’t wait a few days.”

“Thanks,” Amber felt
the tears coming dangerously close to spilling. He hadn’t even asked why—just
knowing that she needed help was enough. And contrary to his reassurance, Amber
knew full well that Gray was swamped with work. For the thousandth time, she
said a prayer of thanks for bringing the Sawyers into her life.

“I kind of miss
Sheryn, to tell you the truth,” Gray continued. “Life sure is quiet around here
without her. But...Amber? Do you want to talk about it now?”

“Well...there’s just a
few loose ends from...the past, that I need to tie up.”

“Do these loose ends
involve a man, by any chance?”

Amber grinned despite
herself. Leave it to Gray to see right through her. “You might say that.”

“Okay, honey, you can
catch me up on it tomorrow night. I’ll be glad to take over for you. After all,
what chance do a handful of local yokels stand against me? I’ll have ‘em eating
out of my hand in no time, begging us to break ground on the damn park. Sheryn’s
World, for better or worse, is on its way to Heartbreak.”

“You’re right about
that—better or worse,” Amber said, glad for a change in subject away from
her personal problems. “The word is that some folks here won’t be too happy
about sharing their little corner of paradise with thousands of tourists. And—”
Amber swallowed hard before continuing. “The mayor is unsympathetic to outside
development. I think we might have something of a battle there.”

After a few more
minutes of talk, she hung up the phone slowly. The feeling of relief that had
washed over her when Gray agreed to come and help out had been replaced by
anxiety. Sleep would not come easy tonight.

She really ought to
call Dean. She’d told him she needed “time to think,” but they both knew that
was the beginning of the end. All that remained when she got back to Nashville
was to sever the last fragile strands that kept their relationship together.

He’d be fine—of
that Amber was confident. His rapid rise to country music semi-stardom, and his
perfect good looks, ensured that women went out of their way to catch his
attention.

She’d met Dean while
he’d been opening for Sheryn during her last tour, and she’d been drawn to his
determination to succeed, seeing something of her own struggle reflected in
his. Lately, though, she was beginning to wonder if he would ever be satisfied.
He couldn’t pass a mirror without looking into it, searching his handsome face
for the reassurance that he was still the best-looking man in the room. He got
to bed when the sun was rising, unable to refuse any fan an autograph after an
appearance, soaking up their admiration like a plant absorbs the sun.

And he’d begun to
pressure her to change, too, pouting if she missed one of his shows, demanding
they go to the hottest new restaurants and nightclubs rather than the cozier
spots she favored, pointing out sexy outfits he thought she should try on. His
intentions were thinly veiled. To Amber it was clear that he thought that more
public appearances, more glad-handing, a flashier look would all reflect well
on him.

Amber looked down at
her hands, suddenly aware she had clenched them into fists and was digging her
nails into the soft flesh of her palms. She unfolded them slowly, exhaling as
she saw the angry red marks left by the nails.

No one was going to
force her to change. Not Dean, who wanted a showpiece on his arm, a complement
to his own charismatic presence. She’d worked too hard, too long, to remake
herself into what she was now. And she would find success on her own terms.

The question, she
realized, was—now that she’d shaped herself so carefully, like an
architect working from a detailed plan, what was left? What had she lost in the
process? Who was the real Amber?

CHAPTER
FOUR

“Polk’s Hardware rents
bicycles,” Amber said, glancing at the notes she’d taken that morning as she
waited for Sheryn to finish getting ready. “We could bike out to the reservoir
and have a picnic.”

Sheryn turned from the
mirror, where she was carefully applying mascara, and grimaced. Today’s outfit
featured an orange tank top, orange stretch denim jeans, and a matching vest on
which hundreds of yellow and orange bugle beads had been sewn in ornate swirls.
The up-do had been replaced by a sportier look, a ponytail secured by a fluffy
yellow chiffon ribbon.

“Bicycles?” Sheryn
said dubiously. “I don’t know—isn’t it supposed to get kind of hot today?”

Amber sighed in
exasperation. In fact, the mercury was already creeping above eighty-five though
it was barely ten in the morning. Still, she was running out of ideas. As
charmed as Sheryn initially seemed by the slow pace of Heartbreak, she was
showing signs of boredom. Amber had found her staring dispiritedly at a talk
show when she walked in the door to Sheryn’s room half an hour earlier. The
rooms opened onto a walkway overlooking the parking lot below, and the door was
propped open with a chair to let air in, since the ancient cooling system was
unreliable at best. Only a faint breeze circulated in the room.

“Yes, it’s hot,” Amber
said, as patiently as she could manage. “But I’m running out of ideas. Besides,
you can always squeeze in another shower before Gray gets here.”

Sheryn grimaced,
peering at her lashes, wand poised in mid-air. “Hmmm. I don’t know...what else
do you have there?”