LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

him, money, power and influence were the important things.

      He was like her parents. Which was why they got along so well.

      He made a conciliatory gesture. “This is a pointless conversation. We need to move on.”

      “My work is not ‘pointless,’ and by ‘move on’ I assume you’re saying that your ambitions take precedence over mine.”

      He frowned. “No, but you can’t argue with the fact that I’m serving a lot of people.”

      “Are you? Or are you serving yourself? Because sometimes, Richard, I wonder if your career is about your ambition, not a selfless desire to dedicate your life to public service.”

      His features hardened. “You want to talk about being selfish? What do you think your actions are doing to your parents? It’s time you stopped thinking of yourself and made them proud.”

      “Since when do my parents have anything to do with our relationship?” A disturbing thought slid into her brain. “Why did you call my father?”

      “I told him I was going to ask you to marry me. He and your mother were thrilled and they’re looking forward to celebrating when we join them on Christmas Eve.”

      Was it really all about her parents?

      Desperately wanting to be wrong about that, she took a step forward. “What if I said that this year I don’t want to spend Christmas with my parents? We could have Christmas by ourselves, just the two of us. Rent a little cottage on Puffin Island and spend our time playing games and chatting. Log fire, a real fir tree from the forest, walks in the snow, making love in the warm.” She’d said it to test him, but the more she thought about it, the more she wanted it. “Let’s do it, Richard. Forget proposals, forget goals and careers—for once let it be the two of us and our friends. We’ll make a pact not to talk about work. Emily and Ryan are hosting Christmas at Harbor House and making it extra special for little Lizzy. Zach and Brittany will be there, too, and I’d love for us to spend more time with them. It will be perfect.”

      “Perfect?” He looked appalled. “I can’t think of anything worse than Christmas on Puffin Island. What would be the point? Your parents have invited people who will be useful.”

      “The point is it’s Christmas, Richard. It isn’t a business opportunity or an excuse to network, it’s Christmas.” How could she have been so deluded? They’d spent over a year together. She’d believed they had a future. “If not Puffin Island, how about Europe? We’ve always talked about going to Paris or Florence. Let’s do it!”

      “This isn’t a good time.”

      “It’s never a good time.” And she realized in a flash of painful clarity that she really had been fooling herself. When she cleared away the creative clouds of her imagination, the truth was right there, forming a stark picture. “When we first met I couldn’t believe how much we had in common. That first night—we stayed up until four in the morning planning a trip to Florence. Do you remember?”

      He shifted. “Sky—”

      “It seemed almost too good to be true, to meet someone who shared your dreams so exactly. There were so many things we were going to do, and we never did any of them. It seemed too good to be true, because it was.” She swallowed, finding it hard to look the truth in the eye because the truth made a fool of her. “My parents told you about me, didn’t they? You studied my interests so that you’d know exactly how to gain my attention.”

      “There is nothing wrong with wanting to know someone.”

      “What’s wrong,” she said slowly, “is that it wasn’t genuine. Love isn’t a business deal, Richard, it’s an emotion. It isn’t about convenience or ambition, it’s about feeling. Genuine feeling, not something manufactured for the purposes of manipulation.”

      “There you go again. You expect a fairy tale and when you get reality, you’re disappointed. It’s the same with your attitude toward Christmas. You’ve always romanticized Christmas and it’s just one day.”

      They were the same words her mother had used, and she knew it wasn’t coincidence.

      The thought that they’d discussed her was horrible.

      Almost as horrible as realizing what a mistake she’d made.

      She felt humiliated and betrayed, foolish and a little embarrassed, but at least she had her answer.

      She wasn’t the sun, moon and stars to him. She wasn’t even a speck of cosmic dust on the bottom of his shoe.

      “Maybe it is just one day, but it’s an important day and this year I’d like to spend it with my friends.”

      “Precisely, they’re your friends. They’re no use to me.”

      “Friends aren’t supposed to be of use.” She heard her voice rise and tried to control it. “That isn’t what friendship is. It’s about giving, not taking.”

      “What can they possibly give you? Your situation is nothing like theirs. You have family, they don’t. Emily had an alcoholic mother, Brittany’s mother clearly knew nothing about responsibility and don’t even get me started on Zachary Flynn. I don’t want to risk my reputation by being in the same place as him. Can you imagine what the media could do with that story?”

      It was like looking at a stranger and she realized that up until now, he’d carefully shown the side of himself he’d wanted her to see. Even with her, he’d controlled his image. The only times it had slipped were the occasions when he’d lost his temper.

      “If you’re forcing me to make a choice between you and my friends, there’s no contest.”

      He relaxed slightly. “That’s good to know. Obviously you’d pick me.”

      “No! I’d pick them. I love my friends.” And she was incensed by what he’d said. Incensed, deeply hurt and furious with herself for being so deluded. “And a friend would never do what you just did.”

      She knew now there was no going back. No fixing.

      “I know you love your friends, and that love makes you blind. It’s thanks to them you’ve lost sight of what’s important in life. We’re going to your parents’ for Christmas. They want the best for you. And so do I.”

      She felt numb. Disconnected.

      How could she have possibly thought this might be love? “I’m the one who will decide what’s best for me.”

      “That’s the theory, but you always make the wrong choices.”

      Anger flickered to life inside her. “Thank you for making it easy for me to say no to the question you didn’t ask.”

      “Oh, for—” He bit off the word and inhaled deeply. “Skylar Tempest, will you marry me?”

      “Again, no!” Her voice sounded strangely flat. “And I can’t believe you’re still asking after the conversation we’ve just had. You wanted me to choose. I’ve chosen. Now get out.”

      He swore under his breath. “My flight leaves tomorrow and I have to be back in DC on Monday. I don’t have time to play games. I want to spend the next few hours celebrating, not fighting. All I want to hear is two words, that’s all. Yes, Richard.”

      “I’m not playing games. We don’t want the same things. Apparently we never did, but I’m only now realizing that. And even if we did have a single thing in common, I can’t be with someone who is so rude about the friends I love. They’re too important to me. It’s over, Richard.”

      Her words fell into a simmering silence.

      She saw the change in him and her heart kicked hard against her chest. She’d been with him long enough to be familiar with every shift in his mood. It was like watching the sky darken over Puffin Island, heralding an approaching

Скачать книгу