“She left through the side door,” Annette said, pointing to the opposite end of the plant floor. “Probably on her way back to her office.”
“Thanks.”
He arrived in Wendy’s office, smiling. After his encounter with the ladies in packing, he now understood that most of the people in this town were happy-go-lucky and generous with their time and attention. He didn’t have to worry about Wendy. She wasn’t falling for him. She was simply being nice to him because that’s the way people in this town were.
Walking into her office, he displayed his box of chocolates. “Look what I got.”
She didn’t look up from her work. “That’s nice.”
“How can you say that’s nice when you didn’t even see what I have?”
“You have a box of chocolates.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw you talking with the ladies in packing.”
He thought about that for a second. She should be dancing for joy that he was doing as she asked, mingling, making himself seem normal, putting everybody’s mind at ease that he and his father had no intention of closing the factory.
Yet she was angry. Why would she be angry that he talked with the packing ladies?
His eyes narrowed. Unless she was jealous?
A sweet pang of self-satisfaction danced in his belly. But he stopped it. That was ridiculous. First, she didn’t seem like the kind of woman to be jealous. Second, he didn’t want her to be jealous. Now that he understood what a bad idea it would be for them to have an affair, he wanted their relationship to be strictly professional.
“They’re all very nice,” he said softly, not quite sure what else to say.
She rose from her desk and walked with the safety binder to the filing cabinet. Sliding it into position with the other binders, she said, “Wasn’t I the one who told you that?”
Her clipped tone made him sigh. “All right. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I have work to do.”
The sharp tone was a downgrade from the clipped tone. Whatever had her angry, it was getting worse. “Why are you angry?”
She spun to face him. “I’m not angry.”
He took a step closer, set his candy on top of the filing cabinets and touched his index finger to the red spots flaring on her cheeks. “These say otherwise.”
But as the words came out of his mouth, he realized she wasn’t angry. She really was upset.
His index finger hovered above her soft cheeks, so it was a natural movement when his hand shifted to cup her jaw.
Her big green eyes blinked up at him and his pulse scrambled. He didn’t take the time to evaluate the situation. Didn’t give himself an opportunity to issue the three thousand warnings that were ringing like bells in his brain. The sweet syrupy feeling tightening his chest had him under its spell. It urged him to shift forward, just brush his lips across hers.
He did and wasn’t sorry. Her taste was sweeter than a thousand candies. Her soft mouth responded to his, naturally, honestly, sending another pang of need through him.
His hands fell to her waist, nudging her closer, and she melted in his arms.
But it was the way she melted with total trust that brought him to his senses. If they got involved, one way or another he would let her down. Even if things worked out the way she wanted and they fell in love, he knew love didn’t last. His parents had sniped at each other for nearly forty years. When his mother had died, Cullen had actually struggled with the worry that his father had been relieved. Though he’d cried at her funeral, the next day he’d been off on his boat and soon he was out at parties with friends. In a week, it seemed that Cullen’s mom had been forgotten by everybody but Cullen. There was no way he wanted that for himself. But more than that, there was no way he wanted that for Wendy.
He pulled away. She blinked up at him, her pretty green eyes bright. Her lips were glistening from his kiss.
He squeezed his eyes shut in misery. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. But most of all I don’t want to hurt you.”
STANDING by the filing cabinet with her lips still tingling from his kiss, Wendy watched Cullen race into his office. She noticed that he’d forgotten his candy but wasn’t about to take it in to him. She was too stunned.
Not because he’d kissed her, but because he couldn’t help himself. She hadn’t made a fool of herself. He liked her, but he didn’t want to hurt her.
She should feel that he was noble. She should even appreciate it. But part of her was annoyed. Maybe she and Cullen weren’t meant to be together forever, but she needed this. She needed a few days or weeks with a man who truly couldn’t resist her to make her feel strong and sexy again. He was leaving on Thursday of the following week. They didn’t have enough time left together that she’d be paralyzed with pain when he left. So everything could be okay.
But she wouldn’t be the one to pursue him. She refused to make a fool of herself. The embarrassment of the past few days had burned that lesson onto her brain.
She went back to work.
He went back to work.
And they didn’t speak for the rest of the week, except when he needed something.
Friday at lunch the employee cafeteria was abuzz with the news that Cullen intended to attend the Christmas party. Sitting at her desk that afternoon, Wendy watched him, saddened that a wonderful opportunity was slipping through her fingers. Still, she couldn’t be the one to make the first move. Especially not at the Christmas party. Too many people would be watching. Too much chance that her coworkers would see her embarrassment if he rejected her.
At five o’clock she dashed home, thinking she’d have to remind Mrs. Brennon that she was cooking dinner and babysitting that night. She found the plump older woman humming at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled like beef stew.
“You remembered!”
Mrs. Brennon nodded. “How could I forget dinner with such a handsome young man?”
Sitting at the table crayoning the pictures in a thick coloring book, Harry peered at Wendy over his glasses. “She means me.”
Wendy walked over and hugged him. “Of course she means you.”
“You scoot now,” Mrs. Brennon said, waving her arms at Wendy. “You have a party to go to.”
Wendy raced to her bedroom. The party began at seven. She needed an hour to dress. And there was the matter of the thirty-minute drive to the hotel. She didn’t have a second to waste.
She quickly stripped and showered but spent far too long twisting her long hair into bouncy curls with the curling iron.
Realizing she had about ten minutes to get on the road or dinner would already be started, she raced to her closet. And stood staring at the dress she’d purchased the week before with Emma and Patty’s guidance.
She pulled out the simple sleeveless red sheath and examined it, wondering if she should wear it. They’d picked it knowing it would attract Cullen’s attention. Short enough to reveal a bit of leg, but not embarrassingly short. Snug enough to cruise her curves but not too tight.
Would it be enough to attract his attention?
And if it wasn’t, would she lose her patience and ask him to dance?