"But only as long as we're in the sack, apparently. Or—what? Were you thinking that when you've had your fill of me sexually, we oughtta get together every now and then for a beer?" Her voice wobbled embarrassingly on the last word and, feeling tears rising perilously near the surface, she shoved back from the table and snatched up her purse. "Excuse me. I've got to use the restroom."
He was hot on her heels when she pushed open the door of the ladies' room a moment later, but she turned with her hand on the knob to stare up at him. "Do you mind?" she asked. "If you're truly my friend , you'll give me a moment of privacy."
Dark brows gathering like thunderclouds over his nose, he stared down at her as if he had X-ray vision that would get to the truth of her emotions. But she refused him access to her thoughts, and with a sound of frustration he turned on his heel and stalked back to the hotel dining room.
She rushed to the restroom sink. Her dinner stayed down, but barely, and every time she thought of the way he'd said they were friends when he obviously believed their only real compatibility was in bed, the gorge rose anew. Standing with her hands braced on the counter-top, and her head hanging low, she drew deep, steadying breaths and fought it down.
Finally, she raised her head and looked at her reflection in the mirror. When they'd arrived here this evening, she'd felt treasured and pretty. Now she thought she looked like a woman men only wanted for one thing, and she turned away from the sight. How on earth had she gone from Princess of the Night to Queen Slut in the space of so few heartbeats?
When she felt her composure was about as good as it was going to get, she walked out of the restroom and looked toward the dining room. Then she turned in the opposite direction and headed for the resort's front door.
The air was soft when she stepped outside and, had she not been wearing shoes so impractical as to make the notion laughable, she might have been tempted simply to start walking back to the Beaumonts'. Alternately, she wished for a moment, as she stared out over the parking lot, that her skills ran to hot-wiring cars. It would serve Zach right if she took the Jeep and left him high and dry.
But, no. Vindictiveness was all very warming to contemplate, but more often than not it only ended up biting the butt of the person who harbored it. Besides, running away was immature and ultimately wouldn't solve a darn thing. So she'd take a loop or two around the hotel to get her emotions in check. Then she might as well resign herself to heading back inside to face Zach like an adult.
Sometimes, though, being a grown-up bit.
She picked her way down the steps and once on the walkway, headed for the point side of the venerable old resort grounds. Tears kept rising to blur her vision, and between those, her skyscraper heels, and the occasional pine cone out to trip her, she had to be extra vigilant about where she placed her feet. The sun had gone below the trees, and as she rounded a curve, the twilit path became a stretch of deep shadow. She paused for a second to let her eyes adjust.
When she heard footsteps behind her, her first thought was that it must be Zach. Before she could decide whether she hoped for or feared the possibility, however, someone grabbed her by the arm, and she didn't need to see the person's face to know it wasn't him. Instinctively, she tried to pull away, but she stilled when something hard was jammed into the small of her back.
"I have a gun," a masculine voice said in her ear. "Make one peep, and I'll shoot you where you stand."
Well, that went just fucking swell. Zach sat rigidly upright in his chair, draining his beer, then reached for his coffee and knocked that back too while he waited for Lily to return. Hard to believe you're actually supposed to be pretty good at negotiating your way out of tough situations . The dinner he'd just consumed sat like gravel in his stomach.
His only excuse was that Lily had caught him off guard. But who the hell could have predicted she'd fancy herself in love with him? Or that she'd look so betrayed when he'd insisted she wasn't?
Who could have predicted that hearing him say they were friends would make her look as if she were about to throw up? Jesus. He found himself feeling pretty hollow-stomached himself.
His back grew even stiffen Dammit, he would not feel guilty. He could have handled the situation much better, plainly, but he'd rectify the damage as soon as she came back. He'd make it clear it wasn't her—that he was the one destined to fail at the relationship game. No matter whose fault it was, though, the fact remained that ultimately it would never work, and it was better to clear up these misunderstandings from the start. It might not make either of them happy, but it sure as hell beat the complete mess matters would be in if he allowed them— her —to get in too deep.
What the Sam Hill was taking her so long, anyway? He wanted to go get her so he could begin making her understand it wasn't really love she was feeling. But he remained obstinately in his chair, refusing to chase after her. He'd done that already—damned if he planned to do so again.
When she still hadn't returned fifteen minutes later, however, he conceded that her stubbornness far outshone his own tonight. He paid the bill and went in search of her.
It took another fifteen minutes to figure out she'd left. He sent a waitress into the ladies' room and searched the resort's public rooms himself. The bell captain remembered seeing Lily go outside, and Zach went over the grounds with methodical precision. Finally, furious, he headed for his Jeep. Clearly she had called Jessica to come pick her up. Of all the childish, vindictive, bitchy little stunts…
The first person he saw when he slammed through the front door of the Beaumont mansion a short while later was Jessica, who was descending the staircase.
"Well, hey there," she said with a smile. "How was din—"
"Where the hell is she?"
"Where is who?" Jessica's befuddlement was obvious, but even as it registered, Zach watched it segue into irritation. She loped down the last steps and strode straight up to him. Hands on her hips, she drew herself to her loftiest posture and thrust her narrow nose up at him. "What do you mean, where is she?" she demanded. "She was supposed to be with you."
"She was. but we had a… disagreement… and she took off. I figured she called you to come pick her up."
She stepped back. "Well, you figured wrong. And how dare you wreck her big night out, anyhow?"
A guilty sense of having done exactly that made him testy. "What the hell makes you assume it was something I did? Maybe she wrecked my big night out."
She just looked at him, and he rolled his shoulders uneasily. "Okay, I didn't handle something she told me very well." Then he snapped erect. "But that's no excuse to run away like some irresponsible little teeny-bopper, and if you didn't pick her up, then someone else must have. I want to talk to everyone."
Jessica shrugged. "Knock yourself out." She started to turn away, but then hesitated, a vestige of unease coloring her expression when she turned back to him. "Lily isn't exactly the irresponsible type."
"I know. But she was pretty upset." He heard Jessica mutter something beneath her breath, but since he was pretty sure he didn't want to know what it was, he ignored it and headed for the house phone in the parlor.
When he hung up several minutes later, he, too, was beginning to feel uneasy. Everyone was accounted for and no one would even admit to having spoken to Lily, let alone to having collected her from the resort. Jessica had followed him into the parlor, and he vaguely registered the weight of her stare as he pulled out a telephone book and flipped through its pages. Finding the number he sought, he punched it out on the telephone keypad. A moment later he was connected to Rosario's bell captain.