Sunset Rivalry: The Caliendo Resort (By The Lake: The Caliendo Resort Book 2) (12 page)

“It wasn’t alright. Discovering you was like discovering myself again. I was broken before you. I didn’t think there could be any repairing to the damage of my life. I lost my dad and I was on a mission to find this file...” He paused, not allowing the memories of his dad to overwhelm him this time. “I hadn’t expected to smile and laugh the way I did when I was with you. I thought I was manipulating a cold-hearted woman, but instead, your warmth melted the interior wall I had built around my heart.”

He hoped his honesty about his past feelings, while making it clear there was no possibility of a future together, would give her the closure she needed to move on. As much as it hurt him to push her away again, he wanted her smile to return and her laughter to echo. Anya could have those things without him.

The complications were mounting between them, he could see it in her eyes. He needed to clarify quickly and mislead her.

“I never meant to hurt you. I thought if I told you that you meant nothing more than a fling it would give you the opportunity to move on and be happy. My life is complicated. You started out as a piece in a game that I can’t explain to you. A game I haven’t finished yet. Anya, I might never have the answers or the closure to finish game.” He took a deep breath. “It was always more than sex with you. But we will never be more than sex. There’s no room for you in my life.”

Anya absorbed the words, only this time her face became unreadable. No narrowing eyes of anger or open-mouthed shock. No tears welled in her eyes...nothing. This was a first. Quinn shifted uncomfortably, waiting and wondering what she was thinking.

When she finally spoke it had nothing to do with their relationship like he’d assumed it would...hoped it would.
Had he?
No, the less fight she put up, the better chances they both had of walking away from this with their sanity.

“Whose file are
you
after?” she asked instead.

Quinn felt his guard return and almost retracted his hand.

He said nothing.

“Quinn?”

“Whose file are you after?” he asked.

Anya pulled her hands away from his and immediately he missed the areas her touch soothed.

Her demeanor hardened. “I guess I’m still that game piece that you keep moving around to your advantage.”

“You’re not a game piece.”

Anya rolled her eyes and slipped off of the chair. “Let’s go get groceries, because I have a supper to cook and a mask to prepare in order to trick my family so you can sweep my mother’s suite in search of a confidential file that rules
your
life.”

That wasn’t fair. She was after a file too. She benefited from this dinner. But she was hurting so he let every comment slide.

“Is it your file? What did you do? Commit murder? Are you a murderer? Fraud? Possible life in prison?
What?
”

Quinn glanced around as her voice rose.

“Don’t worry. I don’t really want to know.” She stepped back to the table and whispered, “But thank you. Knowing the truth is better than the bullshit lies you’ve told me. It’s all I needed to make sure I don’t stick around until your last move...if you ever lay that last move down.”

She walked away, leaving Quinn feeling like shit, but giving her the tools she needed to move on when this was finished.

AFTER AIMLESSLY WALKING around the grocery store, Anya had managed to dig into the memorized cookbook in her head and decide on a meal. She’d taken her time shopping while Quinn waited in the truck. She used the extra wandering moments alone to give her an opportunity to figure out what was going on in her head.

It hadn’t helped.

She was left with the reassurance that her relationship with Quinn hadn’t been the charade he’d led her to believe. The realization healed parts of her that had replayed their relationship, wondering how she’d missed the signs of being used. But still, she’d missed the bigger picture. No matter how significant his time with her meant to him, it in no way compared to the importance of the file he wanted. Whatever information was in that file trumped the connection between them. He still didn’t even trust her enough to tell her what was in the file.

But did she trust him?

If he’d asked first, she might have considered telling him about Rebecca, especially after he’d confided his real feelings. Yes, she would have told him everything. But he didn’t trust her. She was still the pawn he could so easily knock over.

After a silent drive back to her suite, they unpacked the groceries and Anya went into her bedroom, pulling her cell phone out.

Life back at the Caliendo Resort with her family and with Quinn was making it hard for her to remember her goal. Quinn wasn’t having a difficult time keeping on track with his file and yet she kept losing herself. Losing herself to her mother’s embrace and the pull Quinn had on her heart.

Anya dialed the number at the beach house four provinces away. After talking with an employee Anya had left to attend to Rebecca, her shy, quiet voice reminded Anya of her duty: find Rebecca answers. In a way it felt good. A moment that she could use to block out her family...and Quinn, reminding her that Rebecca was the main goal.

Learning there was no improvement with Rebecca’s memory was disappointing, but relieving at the same time. If Rebecca remembered who Anya was before she found her family, the woman might flee as she’d tried to do two years ago. Anya had to fix this. Rebecca was more alone than Anya.

The conversation was short, but to the point, and Anya promised to be home in a week. If she couldn’t find the file by then she wasn’t so certain there was a file to find.

Anya sat by the pool the rest of the afternoon, neither unaware nor caring where Quinn was. She feigned reading while not doubting that Quinn was hovering by her window making sure she didn’t duck out.

When it was almost time to head over to her mom’s to start preparing dinner, Anya had a quick shower and changed into a fancy black, strapless dress. It was a little more than casual.

She met Quinn in the living room. From his clean-shaved face and new change of clothes, it was obvious that he’d done the same. She’d also smelled his body wash in her shower. It was intoxicating and distracting. She’d wondered briefly, while rubbing down her body in the shower, if he’d felt the same way with her body wash lingering from that morning. Probably not.

He was efficiently attentive. Thinking back, each time they were in each other arms the last couple of days it had been because of her weakness. She had been the pursuer, not him.

How sad.

Just as sad as noticing how handsome he looked in the formal attire he’d chosen to wear. He’d tucked a pinstriped matte and satin black shirt into slacks that were tailored to fit him perfectly. They didn’t grab his tight ass the way his jeans did, but darn they were hot.

Just sad.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

Anya held her breath, trying not to let his words touch her heart.

“Thank you.” She would have told him he looked handsome, but the compliment wouldn’t come out. Instead, she walked toward the kitchen to gather the supper supplies. She had to find her apron, plus she should take over her knife set. Who knew how sharp her mother’s were.

“Your mom stopped by and cancelled supper,” he said as her fingers touched the counter.

Anya turned to him. “Why?”

Quinn made his way to the far end of the island, opposite her. “She said some things came up with the gala and she wasn’t going to be able to make it. Since the gala is tomorrow, she asked if the next night would be fine. I agreed to it.”

Two nights?
Quinn was not as good at this as he thought. She wanted to scream.

What were they going to do now? Anya could think of plenty of ideas and all of them started with removing both of their clean, crisp outfits.

“Will you have dinner with me?” Quinn asked as if reading her mind...well part of her mind. He wouldn’t have asked if he knew she was envisioning them in her bedroom.

“We are all dressed up and hungry,” he said.

Hungry for him.

Anya sent him a skeptical look. Going out on what could be considered a date wasn’t a good idea, even if he wasn’t asking her like it was a date.

He pressed the proposal, probably reading her facial expressions, since he’d decided she was so readable. Why when so much about him irritated her, made her almost hate him, did everything about him make her want him more?

“At one of the on-site restaurants. The Locket maybe?”

Just the name of the restaurant she’d poured her sweat and heart into brought her mood even further down. Can’t have Quinn. Can’t have The Locket. Can’t ever have a normal life.

Quinn must have sensed her reluctance. “We will eat in.” It wasn’t a question this time. He followed his statement by opening the fridge and pulling out the ingredients they’d purchased for supper with Eliza and Carl. “What was on the menu today? We will cook up the meal you arranged and head into town for more ingredients for tomorrow’s supper.”

Another supper? Another trip into town? Another day no closer to the files but closer to Quinn?

Anya slowly walked around the island watching him. His bubbly mood was attempting to lighten the tension between them. He was making the best of a bad situation but Anya wasn’t so sure she wanted to smile with him. Why did he want to smile after their conversation at Mrs. Calvert’s bakery? Anya wanted to cry.

Quinn lowered his voice. “Most women would jump at the opportunity to eat out.” His golden eyes shaded to a dark amber. “But not you. You would rather stay in and cook the meal yourself.”

His high spirits faltered the closer she walked. She could see the lust he was fighting burning in his eyes, and she wondered how she’d ever thought it wasn’t real.

Anya stopped a couple feet away. She could have easily smiled and given him the encouragement to continue this facade, but her spirits were lacking.

“Doesn’t that go against my spoiled princess image?” There was no humor in her tone and she didn’t want to fight. She was simply pointing out what he’d accused her of. And she was keeping them platonic. Like he wanted.

“I didn’t mean that.”

Anya chewed on the inside of her mouth, wondering why she’d needed to hear him say it.

He stepped closer to her. “I’m sorry.”

Anya took a deep breath. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. It’s the truth.”

“It’s not that black and white.”

“So you keep saying.” She wasn’t talking about his current comment anymore and she watched him understand it was about them, the file and their non-existent future.

Not wanting to dive into that conversation again, Anya turned her attention to the vegetables he’d pulled from the refrigerator.

“I wasn’t preparing anything fancy for supper tonight. Fettuccine alfredo with homemade garlic sauce and a salad.”

“I can make salad,” Quinn offered.

Anya nodded.

Preparing supper was better than sitting in a restaurant awkwardly staring across the table at one another while waiting for their food to arrive.

But when they remained unmoved, staring at each other, she knew she had to make the first move.

Not toward him, as much as she wanted. Quinn had the strength to keep from touching her, but she knew if she touched him he would lose his control. He offered nothing. She didn’t want
nothing
.

Anya separated the vegetables for him, setting him up with a knife and cutting board before moving around the kitchen, acutely aware of his presence.

She paused when her fingers wrapped round the handle of the pot she planned to boil water in for the pasta. Spoiled princess wasn’t that farfetched.

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked over her shoulder.

She felt the heat of his presence, a confusing mixture as she tried to tame the heat radiating through her body from the simple touch of the cold metal.

Anya stared at the pot, her fingers so tightly wrapped around it they ached. Her white knuckles stared back at her.

“I haven’t cooked in two years,” she whispered. She wasn’t even sure that he heard her or that it had even come out. Maybe she had only thought it.

Anya hired a lady to cook the meals, so she wouldn’t have to. Not that Anya always ate what was set in front of her. Plain meals was what she required but whenever Lydia set a plate in front of her it reminded her of home, The Locket, Quinn...Suddenly, Anya lost her appetite. Cooking was an escape of life and she hadn’t−didn’t−deserve an escape.

“Do you forget how to?”

Anya flinched.

Blinking her eyes, she was dragged back to the present.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and found that he was grinning. Was it even possible to forget how to cook?

Anya laughed. “No.”

Quinn winked at her. “Good. I can cook, but in no way will it compare to Chef Anya. It will be like riding a bike.”

“I was never good at riding a bike.”

Quinn flashed her a roguish grin that he masked quickly by clearing his throat. “Right. Well, whatever you’re superior at riding, it will come back to you like that.” He snapped his fingers for effect.

Anya swallowed hard.

He was talking about them last night. Her riding him. Cowboy, western, Yee-haw, take him on the desk...and all that. Oh Lord, how were they supposed to keep it platonic when he kept bringing up those memories?

“Look I’ve just distracted you from your fear of cooking,” he said, but the comment lacked humor and his eyes went dark with desire.

“If your diversion includes me envisioning your naked, hard body underneath mine, then the victory is yours.”

He sucked in a breath and a sinister grin crossed his luscious lips. “And I thought you didn’t know how to dirty talk.”

Anya turned to face him and brought the pot with her. She held it between them.

Quinn glanced down at it. “I hope you intend to use that strictly for cooking,” he teased.

Hitting him over the head would be easier than resisting him.

“I will kiss you,” she said, knowing it was true. “I will make love to you. I will sleep in your arms all night, Quinn. But it will be because I have a place for you in my heart. You don’t have space for me in yours.”

Shadows lurked behind his eyes, a depressing darkness that he wouldn’t share with her.

“You’re right.” The corners of his lips curved a bit. “I will make the salad and you keep the dirty talk to yourself.”

He moved to the opposite side of the counter, lifting a stool out of his way and dragging the vegetables in front of him.

Anya turned to him, a counter between them. “I did not start that,” she clarified.

“I didn’t say you did.” He winked at her, before turning his full attention to his task.

“I ended it.”

“Of course you did.”

Anya glared at him.

He looked up. “You will always have a place in my heart and I would rather cook with you then not spend any time with you. I’m sorry that’s all it can be. I’m sorry I keep putting us into situations where it seems like I’m offering more. Friends. That’s what we can be.”

Friends? Friends! Was he serious?

The sombre look he sent her answered that question.

“Well,
friend,
don’t forget to wash those vegetables before you slice them.”

He smiled. “Okay.”

“With hot water, in a strainer and make sure to scrub them.”

He unbuttoned the wrists of his shirt and rolled the sleeves up his muscular arms, flexing with the movement. “Okay.”

So Mr. Barker did know how to take orders...this was a first.

Anya filled her pot with water, wondering if she felt the same way as him? Would being friends be better than being nothing? It sounded like a lot of resisting. But now that they’d laid down the terms and knew the boundaries, maybe the next day or two wouldn’t be as difficult. After that, Anya had no idea.

As Anya measured ingredients from memory and not with measuring tools, she noticed her own mood lighten. Her shoulders relaxed as she sliced through raw vegetables. Her smile appeared as she watched Quinn make preparing a salad look like the most difficult task in the kitchen.

The moment his knife touched the romaine lettuce, she couldn’t stand back any longer. Teaching him to tear the lettuce with his hands and not throw out the crispy leaves lessened the strain between them.