Of course, she had been a little distracted-okay, a lot distracted by a sexy cowboy who was quickly making her forget there was a world outside the Ryder Ranch.
She’d half expected him to kiss her last night.
He’d stared down at her with those intense blue eyes, nostrils slightly flared, hands bunched into fists, and the muscles in his neck bulging in relief against his skin. She’d imagined him leaning down, planting his lips against hers, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into paradise all over again.
But then he’d backed off, and she hadn’t been brave enough to protest.
Now she sighed with regret as she clicked the mouse, bringing up a live news broadcast from a Chicago network. The buffer loaded, and the announcer carried on with a story about a local bridge repair.
She turned back to the desk, lifting the stack that was the day’s mail. Barry Brewster hadn’t arrived to confirm the bank balance yet, so she couldn’t make any progress paying the backlog of bills.
Truth was, she was dreading the man’s arrival. No matter what he said or did, it was going to be embarrassing all around. Royce might think she needed an apology, but Amber had spent most of her life with people being polite to her because they either admired or were afraid of her father or Hargrove. She didn’t need the same thing from Barry today.
“The Governor’s Office can no longer get away with dodging the issue of Chicago’s competitiveness.” The familiar voice startled Amber. She whirled to stare at the computer screen, where a news clip showed Hargrove posed in front of the Greenwood Financial Tower with several microphones picking up his words.
“His performance at the conference was shameful,” Hargrove continued. “If our own governor won’t stand up for the citizens of Chicago, I’d like to know who will.”
Guilt percolated through Amber, and she quickly shut off the sound. She watched his face a few seconds longer, telling herself her actions had been defensible. If she’d stayed, she’d probably be standing right next him, holding his hand, the stalwart little fiancée struggling to come to terms with her role in his life.
He looked good on camera. Then, he’d always had a way with reporters, dodging their pointed questions without appearing rude, making a little information sound like a detailed dissertation. It was the reason the party was grooming him for the election.
A child shouted from outside the window, and Amber concentrated on the sound, forcing her mind from the worry about Hargrove to the seclusion of the ranch. Then another child shouted, and a chorus of cheers went up. Curious, she wandered to the window to look out.
Off to the left, on a flat expanse of lawn, a baseball game was underway. It was mostly kids of the ranch staff, but there were a few adults in the field. And there in the center, pitching the baseball, was Royce. She smiled when he took a few paces forward, lobbing a soft one to a girl who couldn’t have been more than eight.
The girl swung and missed, but then she screwed her face up in defiance and positioned herself at the plate, tapping the bat on the white square in front of her. Royce took another step forward.
Amber smiled, then she glanced one more time at Hargrove on the computer screen-her old life.
As the days and hours had slipped by, she’d become more convinced that her decision was right. She had no intention of going back to her old life. And she owed it to Hargrove to make that clear.
She searched for her cell phone on the desktop, powered it up and dialed his number.
“Hargrove Alston,” he answered.
“Hargrove? It’s Amber.”
Silence.
“I wanted to make sure you weren’t worried about me,” she began.
“I wasn’t worried.” His tone was crisp.
“Oh. Well, that’s good. I’m glad.”
“Your parents told me you were fine, and that you’d taken the trouble to contact them.”
Amber clearly heard the “while you didn’t bother to contact me” message underlying his words.
“Are you over your tantrum, then?” he asked.
She couldn’t help but bristle. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“I think you’re behaving like a child.”
She gritted her teeth.
“You missed the Chamber of Commerce speech,” he accused.
“I hear you didn’t,” she snarked in return.
Another silence. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Honestly, Amber.”
“Forget it. Of course you gave the speech. It was an important speech.”
Her words seemed to mollify him. “Will you be ready in time for dinner, then? Flannigan’s at eight with the Myers.”
Amber blinked in amazement at the question. She’d been gone for three days. She’d broken off their engagement.
“I’m not coming to dinner,” she told him carefully.
He gave a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “Is this about the Switzerland trip?”
“Of course not.”
“I explained why I had to go alone.”
“This is about a fundamental concern with our compatibility as a couple.”
“You sound like a self-help book.”
Amber closed her eyes and counted to three. “I’m breaking our engagement, Hargrove. I’m truly sorry if I hurt you.”
A flare of anger crept into his tone. “I wish you’d get over this mood.”
“This isn’t something I’m going to get over.”
“Do you have any idea how embarrassing this could get?”
“I’m sorry about that, too. But we can’t get married to keep from being embarrassed.” She flicked a gaze to the baseball game, watching two colorful young figures dash around the bases.
“Are you trying to punish me?” asked Hargrove, frustration mounting in his tone. “Do you want me to apologize for…” He paused. “I don’t know. Tell me what you think I’ve done?”
“You haven’t done anything.”
“Then get ready for dinner,” he practically shouted.
“I’m not in Chicago.”
He paused. “Where are you?”
“It doesn’t-”
“Seriously, Amber. This is getting out of hand. I don’t have time to play-”
“Goodbye, Hargrove.”
“Don’t you dare-”
She quickly tapped the end button then shut down the power on her phone. Talking around in circles wasn’t going to get them anywhere.
She defiantly stuffed the phone into her pocket and drew a deep breath. After the tense conversation, the carefree baseball game was like a siren’s call. Besides, it was nearly lunchtime, and she was tired of looking at numbers.
Determinedly shaking off her emotional reaction to the fight with Hargrove, she headed outside to watch.
Stephanie was standing at the sidelines.
“Looks like fun,” said Amber, drawing alongside and opening the conversation. She inhaled the fresh air and let the cheerfulness of the crowd seep into her psyche.
“Usually it’s just the kids,” Stephanie told her. “But a lot of the hands are down from the range today, and Royce can’t resist a game. And once he joined in, well…” She shrugged at the mixed-age crowd playing and watching.
A little girl made it to first, and a cocky, teenage boy swaggered up to the plate, reversing his baseball cap and pointing far out to right field with the tip of his bat.
Royce gave the kid an amused shake of his head, walked back to the mound and smacked the ball into the pocket of his worn glove. Then he shook his head in response to the catcher’s hand signals. Royce waited, then smiled, and nodded his agreement to the next signal.
He drew back, bent his leg and delivered a sizzling fastball waist high and over the plate. The batter swung hard but missed. Royce chuckled, and the kid stepped out of the batter’s box, adjusting his cap then scuffing his runners over the dirt at home plate.