“Don’t even try to argue,” she interrupted him before he could.
“I won’t.” He fisted his hands on the desktop, then carefully, deliberately, released them again. “I can’t explain it to myself, so how could I explain it to you or anyone else? Yeah, I left and maybe that was wrong.”
“Maybe?”
“But I’m back now.”
Lacy shook her head and swallowed the rest of her temper. Clashing with him was no way to prove to Sam that she was over him. She would not get pulled into a Wyatt family drama. She wasn’t one of them anymore. Sam returning had nothing to do with her. In spite of the heat inside her, the yearning gnawing at her, she knew she had to protect herself.
“You didn’t come back for me, Sam. So let’s not pretend different, okay?”
“What if I had?” he whispered, gaze locked with hers.
“It wouldn’t matter,” she told him, and hoped to heaven he believed her. “What we had is done and gone.”
He studied her for a long minute. Seconds ticked past, counting off with every heartbeat. Tension coiled and bristled in the air between them.
“I think,” he said at last, “we just proved that what we had isn’t completely gone.”
“That doesn’t count.”
Surprised, he snorted, and laughter glinted in his eyes for a split second. “Oh, it counts. But we’ll let it go for now.”
She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Ridiculous to feel both relieved and irritated all at once. How easily he turned what he was feeling on and off. How easily he had walked away from his life. From her.
“Back to business, then,” he said, voice cool, dispassionate, as if that soul-shaking kiss hadn’t happened. “Yesterday, you and Kristi were talking about the End of Season party.”
“Yes. The plans are finalized.”
Fine. Business she could do. She had been running the Wyatt resort for the past year and she’d done a damn good job. Let him go over the records and he would see for himself that she hadn’t curled up and died just because he left. Lacy had a life she loved, a job she was good at. She was happy, damn it.
Coming around the desk, she ignored him and hit a few keys on the computer to pull up the file. “You can see for yourself, everything’s in motion and right on schedule.”
She moved out of the way as he stepped in to glance at the monitor. Scrolling down, he gave the figures there a quick look, then shifted his gaze to hers. “Looks fine. But end of season’s usually not until March. Why are we closing the slopes early?”
Lacy was on familiar ground here and she relaxed a little as she explained, “There hasn’t been any significant snowfall since early January. Weather’s been cold enough to keep the snowpack in good shape, but we’re getting icy now. Our guests expect the best powder in the world—”
“Yeah,” he said wryly, “I know.”
Of course he knew. He had, just like Lacy, grown up skiing the very slopes they were discussing now. He’d built a life, a profession, a reputation on skiing.
“Right. Then you should appreciate why we’re doing the official closing early.” Lacy walked around the desk until it stood between them again. She sighed and said, “Numbers have been falling off lately. People know there’s no fresh snow, so they’re not in a rush to come up the mountain.
“Throwing the End of Season party early will bring them up here. The hotel’s already booked and we just have two of the cabins left empty...”
“One,” he said, interrupting the flow of words while he continued to scan the plans for the party.
“One what?”
“One cabin’s empty.” He shrugged. “I moved my stuff into Cabin 6.”
A sinking sensation opened up in the pit of her stomach. Cabin 6 was close to her house. Way too close. And he knew that. So had he chosen that cabin purposely? “I thought you’d be staying in the family quarters at the lodge.”
He shook his head. “No. The cabin will suit me. I need the space.”
“Fine,” she said shortly, determined not to let it matter where he stayed. “Anyway, locals will still come ski whether we’re ‘officially’ closed or not. We’ll keep the lifts running and if we get more snow, then others will come, too. But holding the party early gives us publicity that could keep tourists coming in until the snow melts.”
“It’s a good idea.”
He said it grudgingly and Lacy scowled at him. “You sound surprised.”
“I’m not,” he said, then dropped into the desk chair. “You know this place as well as I do. You were a good choice to run the resort. Why would I be surprised that you’re good at your job?”
Was there a compliment in there?
“I want to go over the rest of the records, then, since you’re the manager now, I’ll want to talk tomorrow about the plans for the resort.”
“Fine,” she said, headed for the door. “I’ll see you here tomorrow, then.”
“That’ll work.”
She opened the door and stopped when he spoke again.
“And Lacy...”
She looked over her shoulder at him. His eyes met hers. “We’re not done. We’ll never be done.”
There was nothing she could say to that, so she left, closing the door softly behind her.
* * *
That kiss stayed with him for hours.
For two years, he’d lived without her. It hadn’t been easy, especially at first. But the grief and rage and guilt had colored everything then and he’d buried her memory in the swamp of other emotions. He’d convinced himself she was fine because the reality was too brutal. She’d come to haunt him at night of course. His sleep was crowded with her image, with her scent, with her taste.
And now he’d had a taste of her again and his system was on fire.
Need crouched inside him, clawing at his guts, tearing at what was left of his heart. He’d loved her back then. But love hadn’t been enough to survive his own pain. Now there was desire, rich and thick and tormenting him in ways he hadn’t felt since the last time he’d seen Lacy Sills.
She’d said she had a new man. Who the hell was touching her? Who heard her whisper of breath when she climaxed? Who felt her small, strong hands sliding up and down his skin? It was making Sam crazy just thinking about it. And yet, he couldn’t seem to stop, either.
Yeah, none of it was rational. He didn’t care.
When
