Her eyebrows pinched together, her gaze never wavering to watch the display. “You really don’t know about my grandmother’s plan for us?”
Gently, he gripped her shoulders and turned her so she could see the bright red heart before it faded. While she watched, he leaned closer to speak into her ear.
“I have no reason to lie to you.” In fact, he just wanted to open a dialogue with her so they could figure out how to work together—or resume the affair. He couldn’t help but wonder if part of the reason they kept sparking off each other was that they hadn’t let all that attraction run its course. “It’s been tough breaking through your walls these past two months, but I wouldn’t go to someone else to take care of that problem for me. And I certainly wouldn’t worry a terminally ill person with my concerns.”
She turned to face him again, giving him a clipped nod, some of the tension easing from her while the orchestra played a Mozart piece timed to coordinate with the explosions in the air.
He leaned back against the tree trunk and jammed his hands into his pockets and away from temptation. “Now catch me up to speed about what’s going on with this business trip, since it appears to involve us both and Diamonds in the Rough.”
“My grandmother has insisted that I accompany you for the unveiling of the new line to reassure the stockholders that the McNairs fully endorse your leadership.” Sighing, she perched a hand on her hip.
Preston’s gaze fell to her waist, the dips and curves of her so damn alluring his mouth watered. “That’s a sound business decision on her part. What’s the problem?”
He didn’t understand why she was so upset. She’d worked hard on the new line, had invested a lot of time and creative energy toward putting it together. She deserved to see the first public reactions to her work.
But she shook her head. Visibly upset.
“The problem is... She’s an amazing woman and I just want to do what she needs.” She blinked back tears, making her blue eyes shine in the reflected light from the soaring roman candles in a multicolored display. That sheen in her gaze made him want to hold her.
“Amie?” He resisted the urge to reach for her, half certain she would bolt. “Losing someone you love is not easy. I’m sorry about your grandmother’s illness.”
“Me, too.” She swiped her wrist over her eyes, smudging mascara. “So we’re traveling together this week for the unveiling tour. Just the two of us.”
“Apparently so.” He wondered what her grandmother was up to with this last-minute idea and why she hadn’t discussed it with him first. “To Los Angeles, New York City and Atlanta. It may be for the best. We have to figure out how to work together without all this tension.”
He had sensed that Amie was working on a private project these last few weeks and he wondered why she hadn’t shared any details. That kind of closed-off creativity didn’t benefit the larger company. He needed her communicating more.
Had that been Mariah McNair’s intent, to smooth the business waters before she passed away? It wasn’t such an odd wish. The woman did live, eat and breathe the business, even from her sickbed.
Amie crossed her arms over her chest, her breasts pushing even harder against the fabric. “We’ve been doing fine so far at the office.”
“Are you serious?” These had been some of the most tense workweeks in his life. He’d never had personnel problems—until now. Until her.
“Has my work performance been in any way substandard?”
“Of course not,” he admitted, not mentioning the way she’d retreated to her office for long periods at a time with her door closed. “But it would help workplace morale if you didn’t act like you want me dead.”
Her shoulders sagged, her eyes softening. “I do not want you dead.”
“Then how exactly do you want me?” He stepped closer, his eyes falling to her mouth, to her full lips. Amie McNair had a way of knocking the props out from under him by just walking into a room, and he was damn tired of tap dancing around the subject. He was too old for games.
The fireworks on the lawn churned faster, shot after shot popping and exploding, sending showers of sparks into the night sky. The fireworks reflected in Amie’s eyes as she stepped back, expression iced over again. “If we’re going to be away for a week, I should start packing.”
Turning, she marched across the grass, her beautiful body illuminated by white lights in the sky that turned on and off, on and off.
Just like Amie herself.
* * *
Amie was exhausted to her toes. Not just from the wedding but from the shocking talk with her grandmother to the confrontation with Preston.
She was truly going to spend a week alone with him.
Closing her bedroom door, she finally let her guard down. Kneeling, she held out her hands for her cats, a gray tabby in her lap, a Siamese at her feet, both hers, and Mariah’s two Persians as well. Yes, she was just shy of a crazy-cat-lady starter kit, but her furbabies brought her comfort. With a final stroke along each feline’s arched back, she stood. She’d loved growing up on a farm with animals all around, even if her room was far from rustic, a jewel box of a space, from the strands of multicolored glass beads around her bed, to the stained-glass insets in the high windows above her reading area.
Walking out of her shoes, she reached behind her to unzip the bridesmaid’s dress. She shimmied it down and kicked it aside. She sagged to sit on the edge of her bed. She flopped back on the bed, the silk of her camisole and tap pants soft against her skin still tingling from Preston’s touch. Damn it, she hated losing her composure. And to lose it twice in one night?
Her hand slid over her stomach. No baby bump yet, but soon more than just her breasts would be swelling. And her hormones were out of control, leaving her tearful most of the time and nauseated the rest of the time. Her figure would soon be evident to everyone. No more pageant jokes about her size.
She’d been the first runner-up in the Miss Texas pageant over a decade ago, reportedly the first beauty competition she’d lost since her mother had teased up her hair and sent Amie tap-dancing out on the stage at four years old. She’d “Good Ship Lollipopped” her way through puberty into bikinis and spray tans. Her mama had lived for her daughter’s wins.
She didn’t even want to think about her parents’ reaction to her pregnancy.
There wasn’t anything she could do about it tonight and she truly was exhausted. No matter how much she slept, her body demanded more. She reached on the bedside table for her mouth guard by the phone. Tension had made her grind her teeth at night since she was seventeen and entered higher-stakes pageants.
She’d already seen a doctor to confirm and start prenatal vitamins. The appointment had been scary and exciting at the same time. Preston deserved the opportunity to be a part of his child’s life from the start—if he wanted. She would have to tell him about the baby this week. It wasn’t fair to wait any longer. This was his child too. She would just have to find the right time. His reaction would also have a lot to do with how she presented the news to the rest of her family.
If only she knew him
