Seduced: The Unexpected Virgin (14 page)

“I don’t know what you mean.” The anger that had been so close to the surface just a second ago faded.

She continued talking, almost as if she hadn’t heard him. “Everything always comes back to her. Cara’s right there under the surface. No matter what else is going on in your life. You won’t push Rafe to trot out his grief in public, because you’ve never gotten over having grieved for her that way.” Ana sucked in a deep breath, like she need strength to continue. “You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a spouse to cancer. I hope I never know what that’s like. But I can’t be in a relationship
with someone whose entire existence is centered around that one experience.”

“That’s not true,” he said, trying to deny it.

“Then why haven’t you sold the house? Why haven’t you gotten rid of her sunglasses? Or her art collections? Why don’t you play the Alvarez?” She met his gaze, her own eyes wide and tearful. “I can’t do this anymore. I think you should leave.”

What could he say to that? He could hardly beg her to reconsider. Not when he knew she was making the right decision for herself. All he could do was nod and say, “Fair enough.”

“Ward, I’m—”

He abruptly let her go and turned away.

“—sorry.”

And with that, he stormed out, before his anger really got the better of him. He didn’t take any comfort in knowing that he’d done right by Hannah’s Hope. In knowing that even if he’d hurt her, he’d done right by her, too. He’d seen the flash of pain in her eyes. Heard the anguish in her voice.

He’d pushed her away. Maybe that’s what he’d been trying to do all along. Either way, he was pretty sure he’d just done a bang up job of crushing the rose.

The day after the barbecue at Ana’s uncle’s home, Ward found Ricky’s house about three blocks away. The tiny bungalow where Ricky lived with his mother sat on a scorched swath of dead grass with a rusting bike in the front yard and an even rustier late-model compact car at the curb.

Though Ward had been up since his dawn run on the beach, he waited until after ten to drop by Ricky’s house. There were some things even stardom couldn’t excuse and Ward knew from experience that waking up a night owl too early was one of them.

Ricky answered the door after the first knock, dressed in his standard baggy jeans and sweatshirt. He appeared to have just woken up, despite the fact that it was a school day. Ricky made a shushing gesture as he nodded toward what was obviously a
back bedroom, then led him back to the kitchen where a box of cereal sat open beside an empty bowl.

Ricky slid the kitchen door closed and said, “
Mi mamá
is still sleeping. She got a job on the cleaning crew at the plant.”

“That’s great.”

Ricky gave a defeated shrug. “As long as the plant stays open.”

Ward didn’t want to say how unlikely he feared that would be. Instead, he asked, “Why aren’t you in school? I thought you said you wouldn’t skip anymore.”

“It’s a teacher work day.” Ricky held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I swear!” He poured some cereal into his bowl and shoveled a spoonful into his mouth. As an afterthought, he raised the box up in silent offer.

“No, thanks.” The sugar-coated, neon puffs barely resembled food.

“Why’re you slumming?” Ricky asked through a mouthful.

“I…” Now that it was time to explain, Ward choked. With a sigh, he turned around one of the kitchen chairs and sat on it with his arms braced over the back. “Next week, after the street fair, I’m leaving Vista del Mar for a while. I wanted to tell you myself.”

Ricky’s gaze dropped to his bowl. He shoveled in another spoonful of neon puffs, his face as expressionless as a placid cow as he chewed. Then he ate another bite before shrugging. “Okay.”

The boy’s studied lack of response said more about his emotional state than he probably knew.

“Ricky, I need you to know that this has nothing to do with you. I’ll make sure Ana finds you a great mentor to replace me. I’m sorry we only met a couple of times.”

“Naw, man.” He waved a negligent hand. “It’s okay. No big deal, right?”

“I wish I could stay, but I just can’t.”

“No, I get it.” In went another bite of food. “Who wants to hang around here and mentor some stupid kid, right? I mean, you probably have, like, concerts to plan and stuff.”

“It’s not that. You’re a great kid.” Ward reached out a hand and laid it on Ricky’s arm. “You’re smart and—”

“Stop it.” Ricky shook off Ward’s hand with annoyance.

“I mean it. I’ve enjoyed knowing you. You’re—”

“You don’t have to kiss my ass, okay? You can go back to your real life without feeling guilty.”

“I wasn’t trying to do that,” Ward explained, trying to keep his own frustration from his voice. “I was being honest.”

“Well, you sound like a sleazebag.”

Great. And now he was being criticized by a teenager. Just barely a teenager. “I was going for honest, but if that’s sleazy to you, so be it. You want the truth? We broke up. Ana dumped me. So I decided to leave. To make it easier on her. I’m—”

Ricky burst out laughing. “She dumped you?”

“Yes. She dumped me.” Ward waited for Ricky’s peals of laughter to die down. “But I’m glad you find my broken heart funny.”

Ricky just shook his head, clearly still amused, even though he was no longer laughing. “I just didn’t think you were the kind of guy to get dumped. I mean, dude, you’re rich.”

“Yeah, well, rich guys get dumped, too.”

“Did you really dig her?” Ricky asked quietly.

“Yeah, I did,” Ward said after a thoughtful moment. What would have been the point in lying?

“I saw you two at the party. She was into you. So why are you leaving?”

“She saw through all the smoke and mirrors.” Ricky just looked at him blankly. “You know, smoke and mirrors. From
The Wizard of Oz?
No?”

Ricky ignored the reference and asked, “You’re not even going to fight for her. What’s up with that?”

“She was pretty clear. She doesn’t want me.” And then, for reasons he didn’t quite understand, he found himself opening up to Ricky. “I can’t make her fall in love with me.”

Ricky smirked. “Can’t you just tell her how you feel? Write her a song or something.”

Ward sighed. If only it was that easy. ’Cause, sure. He could
write her a song. He could pull out all the stops and charm the pants off her. But then he’d never really know if he’d won her back or if she’d just fallen in love with the musician.

That wasn’t something a kid like Ricky could understand.

Before he could attempt to explain it, Ricky finished chewing his bite and added, “Just make it a good one. Not a cheesy one like your others.”

“First I sound like a sleazebag, and now my songs are cheesy?” Why was he even talking to this kid? “Wait a second. I thought you hadn’t heard any of my music.”

Ricky shrugged. “I downloaded some of your songs.”

“You didn’t even pay for them? You’re insulting my music and you didn’t even—”

“Hey, I paid for them. My grandparents gave me an iTunes gift card for Christmas. I’m poor. I’m not a thief.”

Mollified—just slightly—Ward pressed, “But you thought they were cheesy.”

“I guess you play guitar pretty good.”

“Yeah,” he said drily. “I guess.”

It was a good thing he had those multiple walls full of platinum albums to fall back on, because this kid was kicking his ego’s butt.

“I just thought your lyrics were… I don’t know. Sappy.” Ricky studied him with his head tilted to the side. “Do chicks usually dig that?”

“Yes. They usually do.”

“Maybe you’ve been dating the wrong kind of girl.”

Ward blew out a long breath. The kid had sure said a mouthful there. “This is crazy. I’m not going to take romantic advice from a kid.”

“Whatever.” Ricky gave another little shrug. “But I’ve known her longer.”

“Okay, then. What’s your point?”

Ricky leaned forward, gesturing sharply. “A woman like Ana, she’s tough, man. She’s not gonna fall for some guy just ’cause he’s smooth. She’s too smart for that.”

“Okay, mister fourteen-year-old-expert-on-women, what do you suggest?”

Ricky held up his palms in a sign of innocence. “Hey, I’ve lived with a single mother my whole life. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve seen
The Notebook?
”

That was actually a good point. Ward lowered himself into the chair opposite Ricky. “So what do you suggest?” he asked seriously. And then mentally kicked himself. Because if he was legitimately going to follow the advice of a fourteen-year-old boy, the situation was truly desperate. And then he realized, desperate or not, he loved Ana and she was worth fighting for.

“All I know is that at the end of the movie, Rachel McAdams doesn’t end up with the rich, charming guy. She ends up with the guy who really loves her.”

Well, that was the kicker, wasn’t it? Ward sat back in his chair.

“I do really love her,” Ward mused aloud. “But she sees through all my tricks.”

Ricky gave him a
well-duh
look. “You don’t use a trick.”

The most obvious solution, but also the most painful. And still a long shot.

P
art of her expected Ward to show up again on her doorstep. Or at least come into the office. But when one hour passed and then another, she realized she had to accept a grim reality. She’d asked him to leave and he’d taken her at her word.

It didn’t matter that she knew she’d made the smart choice. It didn’t matter that she knew their relationship had come to its logical end. Her heart still ached for what might have been.

No. Not even that. Her heart ached for what she imagined might be possible.

The honest truth was, she’d known going into it that they had no future. She’d known he still loved Cara. She’d simply let herself ignore the obvious. For a little while.

Of course she couldn’t bring herself to regret anything she’d done. She’d gained too much by knowing him. Obviously, there was the mind-blowing passion to consider. But even more, there was the insight into herself.

She felt as though she’d barely known herself until now.

Ward, for all his flaws—if loving his wife could truly be
a flaw—had seen her more truly than she’d ever seen herself. He’d pointed out the lies she’d told herself to hide her deepest fears. And if she loved him at all, then the least she could do was respect the memory of their relationship enough to honor that.

Which was how she ended up parked on the street outside of Lena’s house just before noon. Just in time to see Ward leaving. She’d recognized his Lexus parked on the curb and so had parked her own sedan a few doors down, crouched low in her seat and waited.

Biting down on her lower lip and cupping her hand beside her sunglasses, she watched as Ward shook hands with Ricky. He gave the boy an
attaboy
slap to the arm. Then Ward walked out to his car, climbed in and drove away without even glancing in her direction. Which she supposed was to be expected. It was a miracle he’d ever glanced in her direction to begin with.

She waited five minutes to make sure he wasn’t going to turn around and come back, having forgotten his sunglasses or something. And then she waited another five for the knot in her throat to loosen. Then she climbed out of her car and walked up to Lena’s door, cursing the way fate had put her and Ward in the same place at the same time. It was bad enough that she’d still have to work with him occasionally for Hannah’s Hope. Why did she have to see him today, when she was already feeling so emotionally vulnerable?

When she knocked on the door, Ricky answered right away. His gaze widened in surprise and he gave a nervous little glance down the block as if to verify that Ward was truly gone.

“Ana. ¿Cómo estás?”

“I’m good. Is your mom here?”

“Ward just left,” Ricky said, instead of answering. His posture was belligerent. Protective almost.

“I saw that,” she answered.

Apparently, Ricky was hoping she’d press him for more information, because his expression soured into a snarl. “Don’t you want to know why he was here?”

She really didn’t. The less time Ward spent in her brain, the faster she’d recover. But Ricky obviously had no interest in protecting her. “Fine. Why was he here?”

“He was saying goodbye. He’s going back to Charleston.”

That defensive challenge was so strong in Ricky’s gaze, she couldn’t say anything.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know you really liked him.”

“He’s leaving because you broke his heart,” Ricky accused.

“He told you that?”

“He didn’t have to. I’m not an idiot.”

“Right.” And now she felt like that bad guy. What a fantastic day this was turning into. “Is your mom here or not?”

As if on cue, the door to one of the bedrooms opened and Lena propped her shoulder against the doorjamb. She was dressed in a robe, her hair mussed from sleep, her scowl already in place.

“What do you want?” she asked, her unspoken message—you don’t belong here—just as clear as her spoken one.

“I just wanted to talk,” Ana offered. She gave Ricky a pointed look and he was smart enough to excuse himself.

“I’ll be in my room,
Mamá,
” he said. As if she might need him to protect her from the big, bad Ana, when the reverse was probably far closer to the truth.

Once Ricky left, Lena’s scowl deepened. “You don’t have to look at me like that. I got a job working on the cleaning crew at the factory. That’s why I’m just getting up. Not ’cause I was out all night partying.”

Ana held up her palms. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it,” Lena accused.

“Honestly, Lena—” Then Ana forced out a sigh. No need to make things worse. “Look, I know you don’t like me. I know you think I’m spoiled.”

“And?” Lena asked with an arched brow.

Well. There she had it. It sure would have been nice if Lena had denied it. But since she hadn’t… “But I need a favor.”

“Why would I do you a favor?”

“Because the favor is I want you to accept a job at Hannah’s Hope.”

Lena’s gaze turned even more suspicious. If that was possible.

Ana could see the sneering anger ready to burst forth, so she jumped in before Lena’s indignation could overwhelm her pride.

“Just hear me out.” Lena studied her for a second before giving a little nod. “It’s come to my attention that I’m not reaching out to the community the way I need to.” She sighed, finding this harder than she expected. “Ward pointed it out actually. He thinks I’m afraid of being rejected. I don’t know. Maybe he’s right. I don’t know what it’s like to be poor. I know what it’s like to be unlucky, but I don’t know what it’s like to be down on my luck. But you do.”

Lena sneered. “So what? You want me to teach you what it’s like to be poor? Isn’t that backward?”

“No. I don’t need anyone to teach me. I just need someone who’s been there. Someone people will trust.”

Lena’s lower lip jutted out. “I’m not the kind of person people trust.”

“Well, you will be.”

For just a second, the suspicion faded from Lena’s gaze to reveal a flicker of hope. Seeing her chance, Ana started talking fast. “I can’t pay you much, but I can beat the cleaning crew at the plant. And the hours will be better. But you’ll have to work on your getting your GED in your off-hours. We’ll need to get you fully qualified within a year, I’d think.”

“What makes you so sure I’d want to work for you?”

“Because you believe in Hannah’s Hope. I know you do or you wouldn’t let Ricky go there. And I honestly don’t know if we can be successful without you.”

Ana could see Lena wavering. And she knew she’d win her over. She had to. She didn’t think she could take any more disappointment.

Before Ana could think of anything else with which to entice
Lena, Ricky stuck his head through the door and yelled, “Come on,
Mamá,
just take the job!”

Lena’s expression softened. Then she smiled. “Well. I guess that settles it.”

Three days before the street fair, and her personal life in apparent shambles, Ana could think of about ten thousand things she’d rather do besides talk to a reporter. But when Gillian Mitchell from the
Seaside Gazette
called, Ana had little choice but to take her call. After all, Christi—who had dated the editor years ago—had called the guy several times hoping the
Gazette
would run a story about the street fair on the front page that Saturday.

The street fair seemed a pretty fluffy piece compared to the kinds of things Gillian covered, but if they wanted to put their ace reporter on it, who was Ana to complain?

However, she was not prepared for Gillian’s questions.

“Rumor has it that Ward Miller is planning on performing at the open house. This would be his first public performance in over three years. And the first single on the new album he’s been working on.”

For a second, Ana nearly laughed. As her surprise subsided, she weighed her options. Disappoint the reporter too much and she might not get the good placement they needed. But she didn’t want to toy with her, either. Finally, she hedged, “Ward is involved in a lot of charities. I’m sure they’d all love to claim his first public performance in three years.”

On the other end of the line, Gillian hesitated. Finally, in a tone that hinted at frustration, she said, “He may be involved in a lot of charities, but he hasn’t been involved with a lot of charity directors. I’d say his personal attachment to you changes things.”

Ana rocked back in her chair. “Oh.”

“I’ve surprised you.” Again, Gillian’s tone shifted. “I’m sorry I was so blunt. I thought you were blowing me off.”

“I wasn’t,” Ana said honestly. “Despite what you may have
heard about my relationship with Ward—there’s no way he’s playing a song—new or otherwise—at the street fair.”

Gillian didn’t respond right away, so Ana continued.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure that’s not the big story you were hoping for. But Ward’s involvement with Hannah’s Hope is strictly as a board member and supporter. He’ll be attending the street fair in that capacity.”

At least she hoped he would. Since she hadn’t spoken to him since Sunday evening, for all she knew, he’d changed his plans and was on his way back to Charleston already.

“You sound really sure,” Gillian said, confusion in her voice.

Ana thought of Cara’s sunglasses sitting on the console by the door. Thought of the empty house he didn’t live in and the tiny carriage house to which he’d exiled himself. She thought of the Alvarez sitting in a glass display case at CMF, forever, eternally unplayed.

And then, thinking of the big fight they’d had, she figured the chances of him even showing up at the street festival were pretty slim. Forget playing at it.

“Yes. I’m very sure.” Then she thought of the annoyance in Gillian’s tone just a moment ago when the other woman had thought Ana was lying to her. “Wait a second. You sound pretty sure yourself.”

“I… You know,” Gillian said with sudden cheer. “I must have been mistaken. Thanks for your help.”

A second later, the line went dead.

Ana pulled the handset away from her head and stared at it suspiciously. She replaced the handset in the cradle, turned back to her computer and drummed her fingers mindlessly on her keyboard. Then looked up the number for the
Gazette
on Google, called it and a moment later had the front desk connect her to Gillian’s phone.

“You sounded really sure,” Ana repeated.

“I didn’t,” Gillian protested.

“No. You did. You were actually annoyed when you thought I was putting you off. What’s up?”

“There’s nothing up!” But Gillian’s voice sounded high and strained. She may be used to asking tough questions, but she wasn’t used to being in the hot seat herself.

“Who did you talk to that made you think he’d be performing at the open house?” Because God help her, if Christi had out-and-out lied to the editor to get him to run the story…

“A reporter never gives up her sources,” Gillian said sternly.

“Right,” Ana quipped. “This isn’t exactly high political intrigue we’re talking about. It’s entertainment gossip. Who is this source of yours?”

“Look, I just…” Gillian stammered. Then she released a sigh. “If he’s planning some big romantic gesture, I don’t want to be the one to ruin it.”

“If who is planning some big romantic gesture?”

“Ward.”

Ana’s heart stuttered in her chest. Ward? Planning a big romantic gesture? For her?

A bark of bitter laughter bubbled out. Gillian seemed not to notice it.

“My big source,” Gillian continued, “is his assistant. He called to schedule an interview with me for immediately after the street fair. He’s the one who told me about the song and new album.”

Ana’s heart started thudding dully again in her chest. “You mean Ryan. His new public relations manager.”

“No, that wasn’t his name.” On the other end of the phone, Ana heard Gillian clicking away on her computer as if pulling up a file. “Jess was his name. And he said he was Ward’s assistant.”

Ana frowned, rocking slowly back and forth in her chair. Ryan, she totally would have expected this of him. He wouldn’t have any trouble misleading a reporter to get better press coverage. But it wasn’t like Jess at all. “And it was Jess who told you about the performance?” Ana asked, still trying to wrap her mind around it.

“Yes. He said Ward was going to perform. That it was the first new song he’d written in years and that it was off the new album he just started recording this week.” There was a long moment—during which Ana could do little more than frown and rock. And then Gillian asked, “You didn’t know?”

The hint of pity—or maybe blatant curiosity in Gillian’s voice snapped Ana out of it.

“I knew he was in the studio.” That was strictly true. Throughout his time in Vista Del Mar, Ward had spent significant time at a recording studio in L.A. “He produces albums. He’s working on an album for some kid he heard in a club a few months ago.”

“Yeah,” Gillian said. “Dave Summers. He
was
working on his album. But they finished in the studio two weeks ago. Ward still had studio time and he’s been using it himself.”

Still not quite believing what she was hearing, she said, “You just called the studio and asked? And they told you?”

“I can be very persuasive.” Gillian’s voice was smugly pleased.

“Apparently,” Ana grumbled.

“Look,” Gillian began. “I’m sorry if I put my foot in it. If he’s planning some big romantic gesture…” She let her voice trail off.

Yeah. Right. If Ward was planning some big romantic gesture, Ana would be arriving at the street festival in a chariot pulled by exotic long-haired llamas.

Still, Ana found herself offering up reassurances. “If he is planning something, I’ll act surprised.”

Which would not be hard to fake.

Whatever Ward was planning, it wasn’t a gesture. Romantic, big or otherwise. They hadn’t spoken since the fight at her uncle’s house. All her life, she’d told herself she was putting off romance because the time wasn’t right or because she hadn’t yet met the right man. But maybe it was none of those things. Maybe she just sucked at love.

By the time Saturday rolled around, she no longer knew what to expect from the festival. Lena had showed up for work, on
time, appropriately dressed and brimming with energy every day. She seemed not just determined to succeed, but to trample into the dust any doubts Ana might have had about her capabilities. She was even respectful. Mostly. She refrained from making snide comments about Ana unless they were alone. Christi and Omar were happy for the extra help in preparing for the street fair and agreed hiring Lena was a stroke of brilliance. Plus, the extra help had freed up Ana’s time and allowed her to make progress on all the paperwork that had been bearing down on her.