Dreaming of You, page 8
“Oh.” Aria seemed surprised again. “Did I not mention that? Sorry, pregnancy brain. Sometimes things escape me. Do you listen to it?”
“Yes, every week. He knows his stuff.”
“He’s sharp,” Aria said. “And a nice guy. Just a little overzealous at times.”
Clarissa had seen no evidence of that, except perhaps for when he’d made it clear how much Rose’s wedding meant to him, but that had been totally understandable, and more than a little sexy. So, too, had been the way he’d asked if he could call her that night. He’d taken her rejection in stride and been nothing but the perfect gentleman since. There were few men she could say that about.
“He’s knowledgeable, and he has a way about him. He’s never condescending. I like him.”
“Oh my God.” Aria’s eyes narrowed, then widened, as if she’d had an epiphany. “You like him.”
Clarissa shushed her and glanced around to make sure no one had overheard. “Shh, we’re not in high school anymore. No one talks like that.”
Aria giggled and didn’t pay her any heed. “You and Mark. Wow.”
“Nothing has happened,” Clarissa hissed.
“But you’d like it to.”
She didn’t refute the statement. If she were going to be involved with a man, she would like it to be Mark. He was the only one who’d captured her interest since Heath Shaw, but she wasn’t in a good place to be having a relationship, and no matter how much she liked him, she wasn’t sure if she could trust him—not with the truth about everything.
“Riss….” Aria’s smile slowly transformed into concern. “Be careful. Mark’s a fun guy, but from what Eli has told me, he can be a bit of a flirt.”
Clarissa shook her head. “I don’t buy it. That’s not the kind of man he is with me.”
Do you really know what kind of man he is? A little voice in the back of her mind whispered. You thought you knew what kind of guy Heath was. You thought you knew better than everyone else, and look where that got you.
“Okay, just make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into. I worry about you, all alone in Dunedin. You deserve someone in your life who makes you happy, but don’t jump into something blind.”
Clarissa swallowed her irritation. She knew how to look after herself; she’d been doing it for long enough. Besides, she wasn’t about to throw herself at a man. Any man. But Aria meant well. She was a mother hen, that was all.
“I’ll be careful.” She smiled to lighten the mood. “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow. Make sure you get your beauty sleep.”
“If there’s one thing I’m not going to do, it’s sleep,” Aria replied, rubbing her swollen belly. “This baby makes it really hard to get comfortable, but the makeup artist can layer the foundation on so thick no one will be able to tell.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“Are you sure you’re happy at the hotel?” It was the millionth time she’d asked.
“Yes, it suits me well.” She didn’t mind moving out for the last night before the wedding. She was used to hotel rooms, and she didn’t want to add to Aria’s stress level when what her friend really needed was a quiet night to herself. “Besides, it’s Eli’s hotel. I’m sure it’ll be great.”
“Not as great as staying with a friend,” Aria muttered.
Clarissa ignored her. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Bright and early. Ugh, I’m so nervous.”
“Everything will be perfect.” She tugged on a light coat to ward off the nippy spring air, shoved the restaurant exit open, and started toward her car. She’d barely made it five steps when a shadow separated from the building and rushed toward her.
Instinctively, she ducked and spun away. Then she ran, her two-inch heels wobbling dangerously beneath her as she scrambled toward her car.
“Clary, wait!” someone called. A female. One who knew her old nickname.
Clarissa hesitated. “Who is it?” Her voice wavered, but she tried not to show fear.
“Stop running,” the woman puffed, picking her way across the parking lot, coming into the light cast by an overhead lamp that reflected off her gold-blonde hair. “It’s just me. Jen.”
Just Jen.
There was no “just” about Jen.
Clarissa squeezed her eyes shut and heard a pathetic whimper. Had that been her?
It will be okay, she told herself. Everything will be okay. You’re a strong woman. Your family can’t hurt you anymore.
She forced her eyes open and reinforced her spine with steel. She glared at Jen the way she did a particularly determined suitor who wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. It was usually enough to deter all but the densest of men, and her sister halted a few yards away. When the outside lights illuminated Jen’s delicate features, Clarissa was tempted to bolt even though she posed no physical threat.
The sisters hadn’t spoken in nearly ten years. After their parents cast her out like a stray dog, Jen had wanted nothing to do with her. Why was she here now?
“I have nothing to say to you,” Clarissa hissed, backing away.
Jen crossed the space between them and grabbed her by the elbow, preventing her from escaping. “Wait,” she repeated. “Just give me a minute of your time.”
Jerking her elbow free, Clarissa stalked over to her car and got in. Jen was hot on her heels and tried to tug the door open, but she’d locked it. Safe in the car, Clarissa sighed. Tempted as she was to drive away and pretend this had never happened, she had a heart, and Jen looked ready to cry. Her sister knocked on the window, then pressed a palm to it.
“Please don’t go,” she said, loud enough to be heard through the glass. “Not like this. Not after all this time.”
Cursing her own weakness, Clarissa opened the window. “How did you find me?”
She didn’t like the thought that she’d been spied upon. It gave her the chills.
“Davy knew when and where the rehearsal was happening. He told me.”
Bloody men. Clarissa gritted her teeth. They couldn’t be trusted.
“Don’t be angry at him,” Jen said, reading her mind. “I practically had to torture it from him.”
She doubted it. The friendly bartender was always up for a gossip. “What do you want?”
“A minute of your time. To talk to you. That’s all. Please.”
Clarissa shivered. She was freezing, and her fingers and toes were tingly and numb. She wound the window back up, opened the door and stepped out. Much as she’d have liked to blast the heater and stay in the warmth of her car, she didn’t want to invite Jen inside. Doing so would make it that much more difficult to get away from her.
“Fine. You’ve got a minute. Talk.”
Now that she had Clarissa’s attention, Jen dithered, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Clarissa crossed her arms over her chest and stared at her sister. Jen had aged well. She’d been a gangly fourteen-year-old when Clarissa had last spoken to her, but she must be twenty-three now, give or take. She’d filled out, and her skin had cleared up, but there were stress brackets around her mouth and dark circles under her eyes.
For the first time since she’d been accosted, Clarissa felt a twinge of sympathy. Living with the weight of their parents’ expectations couldn’t be easy. Especially when Clarissa had borne the brunt of it up until she hadn’t been around any longer.
She tapped her foot, and Jen wrung her hands, less sure of herself than she’d been charging across the parking lot thirty seconds ago. She’d always been better at actions than words.
“I know you hate me,” she blurted, taking Clarissa by surprise. “I don’t blame you. Sometimes, I hate me too. But I miss you. So fucking much.”
At the swear word, Clarissa’s arms dropped to her side, where they hung, heavy. The Jennifer Mitchell she’d known would never have sworn.
Jen caught her look and said, “Yeah, Mum and Dad would cut my tongue out, right? I don’t give a shit. I don’t live with them anymore, and they don’t control me.”
Clarissa nodded slowly. Jen was a grown woman. Of course she didn’t live with their parents, but that didn’t mean she was free of their influence. Emotional abuse and manipulation could be so insidious that you didn’t even notice it was happening until suddenly everything turned upside down and inside out and you didn’t know which way was up anymore, or whether your inner compass pointed due north.
Jen let out a long, rattling breath. “You don’t believe me.” Her lower lip quivered. “I can’t blame you for that either.”
Clarissa fished for something to say. Anything. But her chest was so tight she didn’t think she could squeeze words from it without passing out.
“Clary, talk to me.”
It was the nickname that prompted her to respond. She hadn’t been called “Clary” since she was seventeen.
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “You can call me Clarissa or Rissa, but not Clary. Clary was a weak girl, and that’s not who I am anymore.”
Jen looked stricken. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Clarissa sucked in a breath. Of course she didn’t. How could she? Clarissa was being cold and unreasonable, but she couldn’t help it. Jen’s betrayal had hurt so much more than her parents’ because they’d been friends. She’d never even given Clarissa a chance to explain.
“That’s okay,” she said slowly. “But I’ve got to go now.” In truth, she did need to check into the hotel before reception closed for the night, but she felt a pang when a tear rolled down her baby sister’s cheek.
Jen shoved a piece of paper into her hand. “I understand. This is my number. Please call me. I don’t care how long it takes.”
Clarissa nodded. Her ears had fogged over, and it sounded like she was speaking through water when she said, “I’ll think about it.”
Jen’s lips curved up, ever so slightly, into a hopeful smile. “Thank you.”
The gratitude in her voice made Clarissa uncomfortable. She lifted one shoulder nonchalantly, as if to say it meant nothing. A lie, and they both knew it.
“Goodbye,” Jen whispered. “We’ll talk later.”
“See you.” Clarissa didn’t add “later.” She didn’t want to make a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep. She climbed back inside the car, shut the door, and watched Jen in her rearview mirror until she disappeared out of sight.
Mark and Sterling sat in Sterling’s room on the ground floor of their company’s hotel, atop a hill overlooking Lake Itirangi. A set of French doors at the end of the room opened onto a manicured lawn shared by all of the guests. The curtains were open, and they occupied armchairs, looking out into the growing darkness. Mark clasped a low-carbohydrate beer, fresh from the chiller, and Sterling drank from a similar bottle with a slice of lemon wedged inside the top.
"This place turned out pretty well, didn't it?" Mark remarked, for the sake of conversation. Sterling could withdraw into his mind and happily remain there for hours if no one else took the initiative.
"It did," Sterling agreed. "And it brings in good money."
Trust him to think about the bottom line. Mark simply enjoyed the beauty of the location. He'd rarely stayed anywhere so peaceful. Truth be told, he rarely left Auckland. Perhaps he should change that. From what he’d seen of the South Island over the last few months, it was wild and gorgeous.
He glanced over at Sterling. His friend seemed reflective, perhaps more so than usual. "Did you enjoy your company at dinner?" he asked, wanting to gauge Sterling's opinion of Clarissa.
"Very much." A smile touched his stern lips. "Clarissa and I had an excellent conversation about different business and management styles. She's an extremely intelligent woman. Has some brilliant theories."
"She is,” Mark agreed. “She's beautiful too."
"Yes, she’s conventionally pretty, but I'm more interested in her brain. It's not often I find someone whose passion for work rivals mine.” He glanced at Mark. “Does that ease your mind?"
Mark laughed. “Am I that transparent?”
Sterling rolled his eyes and didn’t deign to answer. Mark considered his friend’s choice of words. Passion. He’d certainly like to see Clarissa’s passionate side. Would she channel that same passion for business and design into the other aspects of her life? He pictured her pink lips, ready to be kissed. Imagined how it would feel to embrace her and have her rest her head on his chest, over his pounding heart. God, he longed for that. How was it possible to be so crazy about a woman he’d only met a handful of times?
"Mark, are you okay?"
He twitched in surprise. He'd zoned out. "Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
Sterling studied him suspiciously. "You went for a good couple of minutes without talking. I'm concerned."
Mark grumbled and shook the cobwebs from his brain. "I'm fine. Sometimes I need a moment to think, the same as anyone else. You're right, Clarissa is an intriguing woman, and I’m interested in her."
Sterling nodded. "She'd make a good life partner."
Mark stared out the glass doors into the dark. Sterling was 100 percent right, despite his unromantic way of thinking. The man who ended up waking beside Clarissa every morning would be a lucky one indeed.
“I’ve never seen you hesitant around a woman,” Sterling said. “I have to say, I like it. The unflappable Mark Talbot, uncertain about how to proceed.”
“What would you do?” Mark asked, not expecting him to have an answer since, as far as he knew, Sterling rarely—if ever—dated.
But his friend surprised him, saying, “If I found a woman like her, and if I thought I had a chance, I’d do everything in my power to spend more time with her and make sure she knew exactly how I felt. That’s not the kind of thing you want to have any ambiguity over.”
“You’re right,” Mark said, stunned to find he was buoyed by the pep talk. “I shouldn’t waste my time mulling it over.” With renewed energy, he leapt from his chair and shrugged into a sweater. “I know she’s staying here, and I’m going to go find her.”
“Wait,” Sterling called after him. “It’s getting dark out.”
But Mark didn’t listen. He had other things on his mind.
10
The lake shimmered in the moonlight, the reflections changing in intensity as clouds drifted across the moon. A breeze ruffled Clarissa's hair, curving it around the side of her face. She tucked a lock of it into her jacket to keep it out of her eyes, adjusted her scarf, and inhaled deeply, relishing the perfume of spring blooms that was carried on the wind. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she inhaled again, savoring the scent.
You don't get this in the city.
Being in Itirangi stirred a host of unpleasant memories—sharp fear, shame, the memory of angry words exchanged, and finally, a loneliness like she'd never known before—but despite that, the town was beautiful. Even with her history, she believed it to be the most beautiful place in the world. And, yeah, she'd experienced her lowest moments here, but she'd also learned the strength of her friendships and the mettle of her spirit.
She sniffed the air again. It smelled like home.
A heaviness settled over her heart. Home or not, she couldn't stay here long. Too many ghosts roamed the streets. Her hands trembled, and the dim light cast by her e-reader wobbled. She crossed her legs and propped the e-reader on her knee, so she didn’t run the risk of dropping it.
"Penny for your thoughts."
She squeaked. Her heart leaped to her mouth, and she jerked in response to the voice, then thanked the stars she'd had the forethought to put her e-reader in a secure spot.
"You scared the living daylights out of me," she said to Mark, who’d emerged from the shadowed lawn to her right. Technically, the spot where she was sitting, just outside her room, was a communal area, open to all guests on the ground floor, but she hadn’t seen anyone since she came outside and hadn’t expected to.
“Sorry, that wasn’t my intention.”
“What are you doing out here?” Her lips wanted to form a smile at the sight of him, with his tousled hair and faded sweater that may have been red once but now could be more accurately described as dusky pink. She liked that he wasn’t afraid to wear it anyway.
He shrugged one pink-clad shoulder. “To tell the truth, I was hoping to run into you.”
“Oh.” She was grateful for the darkness, which hid the blush she was certain stained her cheeks. What was she supposed to do with a statement like that? Most men, in her experience, would have invented a reason for being in the area, then tried to press their company upon her. She wet her lips. “Why did you want to see me?”
His head dipped forward, his dark hair falling over his forehead and casting his eyes into shadow. “Because I like spending time with you.”
Again, his honesty disarmed her. She studied the lower half of his face, all that she could see from this angle. Was it her company he liked, or did he hope she’d fall into bed with him? No matter how much she’d fantasized about him over the last few months, that would never happen.
“I’m actually quite tired. It’s been a long few days. I’m enjoying spending some quality time with a good book.”
He glanced at her e-reader. “I can relate. It’s been full-on. Do you mind if I join you?”
“As long as you don’t mind that I’ll be reading,” she said, waiting for him to realize there was no hope of getting her naked, but also crossing her fingers that he wouldn’t prove himself to be a one-track-mind kind of guy.
He disappeared into the darkness, and her stomach sank, but then she heard a scraping sound, and he returned, dragging a chair. "Don't worry, I won't disturb you. I'll be quiet as a mouse."
She snuffled and hid her smile behind her hand. Something in the vicinity of her chest fluttered. However much Mark might try to fade into the background, she didn’t think it was possible to not be aware of him on a molecular level. He had one of those presences that demanded attention.
"Was that a laugh I just heard?" he asked, a dimple popping in his left cheek as his mouth hitched up. The hollow in her chest filled with fizzy warmth because of that dimple. One man shouldn't be so endearing. It wasn't fair to the female gender.
