Stormy Passion Page 22

  “Brenna?” Lisa walked over and picked up a bright red apple. “Can I spend the night with Joyce? She's having a sleep over and all our friends will be there.”

  Brenna took a deep breath and smiled at her sister, thinking about the delightful, bubbly child she'd become. The first two years after their parents' deaths, Lisa had had terrible nightmares. They had both cried and clung to each other until finally the sharp pain had lessened and became dull. And somehow Lisa had managed to block out the tragedy. Thank goodness, that awful time was behind them. “Did you do everything I asked you to do?”

  “Yes. And I folded the clothes, too.”

  “In that case, I guess you can. Providing you come home bright and early,” Brenna added. “I think I'm going to need some help this weekend.”

  Just then the back door rattled, and Geraldine stepped inside, stomping the snow from her boots. “Who hit ya car?”

  “Don't ask.” Brenna waited for Geraldine to get to the sink before handing her the dishtowel. “The kitchen is all yours. I'm going to check the tables.”

  Brenna wandered around the dining room. She arranged fresh flowers for each table and made sure everything was ready for tonight.

  She was about to go upstairs and take a much deserved bath when Geraldine came out of the kitchen. “Paula called. She said she has the flu. Afraid it'll be just you and Nell tonight.”

  “That's all I needed to make this a rotten day. At least it can't get any worse.” Brenna massaged her temples, wishing she hadn't told Lisa she could spend the night with Joyce. “Well, there's nothing we can do. We'll just handle it and take turns seating the guests.” Brenna turned and started up the stairs. “I'm going to drown myself in the tub.”

  “Where's that spunk?” Geraldine called from the bottom of the stairs.

  “I don't know. Maybe I'll find it up here.”

  ***

  Taylor and Carol sat at a corner table that overlooked the snow-covered lawn. Lights flickered across the white expanse, making it shimmer like diamonds.

  “This candlelight is the perfect touch,” Carol commented as she glanced around the room. “And you have to admit it's better than having a phone stuck to your ear,” she said, then pointed. “What a fireplace. Can you believe it has a real fire? At home we'd just have rain and gas logs.”

  “I'm beginning to like this place myself,” Taylor agreed before taking a sip of wine. He decided now was a perfect opportunity. He had planned on giving Carol the ring tomorrow night in Asheville, but all his plans had fallen through. Maybe Carol was right; something had drawn them to this quaint town.

  He reached into his pocket for the velvet ring box. After all, it was about time he settled down with a wife and had children. He'd dated a variety of women since Brenna had left town, but they all made him feel empty. He wanted to experience the magic he'd felt every time Brenna looked his way. He wanted to laugh and cry and dream. Last week he'd realized that perhaps what he searched for wasn't out there, so he decided to quit looking. He knew he'd become a corporate machine, but it had been the only thing that had gotten him through the last three years.

  It was time to think of a future. Carol was pretty, good company, and everything he wanted in a wife. Wasn't she? If only he could chase away these nagging doubts. It was common for everyone to have uncertainties, he finally convinced himself.

  “Carol.” Taylor took her hand in his, noting her long, slim fingers and perfectly polished nails. “We've only known each other for a few months,” he cleared his throat. “But I've come to realize that you're just the person I need in my life.” He smiled. “Will you consider being my wife?”

  Her eyes grew wide in surprise. “I--I don't know ... Yes ... yes ... yes!” She squeezed his hand.

  “In that case ...” Taylor grinned. “I think you'll be needing this.” He handed her a gray velvet ring box. Casanova he wasn't, but at least the deed was done and he felt relieved. Leaning over, he slid the ring on her finger, then placed a tender kiss on her lips.

  Brenna raced around in high gear. She'd decided to wear dress slacks and tennis shoes for comfort since they were booked solid for dinner. However, it would be nicer if she could multiply herself, then she could be everywhere she needed to be.

  She swung by the kitchen to pick up one of the orders that Nell had taken. Leaning against the bar, she propped her chin on her hand, as she watched Geraldine fill her order.

  Brenna started laughing. “Look at you. Your hair is slipping out of its always-perfectly-shaped bun. I don't think I've ever seen you so frazzled.”

  Geraldine put one hand on her hip, turned, and waved a spoon toward Brenna. “Unless ya like to take my place over these hot pots, I suggest ya get your skinny rump out to those tables and make yourself useful.”

  Brenna laughed again as she swung the tray up to her shoulder. She had two more tables, and then she'd take a breather. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. No wonder this tray of turkey and stuffing smelled so good.

  Rounding the corner, she saw her table to the right, then as was her usual custom, she scanned the rest of the room.

  That was her biggest mistake of the day.

  Brenna stopped.

  She couldn't move.

  No. She wanted to scream. It couldn't be.

  The chatter of the dining room faded and was replaced by the sound of her heart thumping wildly in her chest. It couldn't be Taylor Rothschild, her former fiancé ... here in Hollow Ridge ... eating in her dining room. Impossible. Fate couldn't be so cruel.

  Yet, there he sat, smiling--not at her--but at another woman. At first glance, Taylor hadn't changed. His thick, light brown hair streaked with blonde curled under his ears. He wore a cream-colored fisherman's sweater beneath a brown tweed sport coat. The turtleneck sweater brushed his square, stubborn jaw, which was propped upon his hand as he watched the lady who smiled at him so sweetly. Unfortunately, she was cute with short brown hair that just barely reached her chin. He laughed at something she said, then leaned over and kissed her and held up her hand to look at--at an engagement ring.

  Brenna's stomach twisted in knots before her senses returned, and she remembered her location and why she was there. Thank goodness, he hadn't seen her. Quickly, she turned her back to Taylor and began to wait on her table. She'd just get these plates served and get the hell out of this room without him ever noticing her.

  Why did he have to show up here for dinner? It had taken her forever to learn to live without him, and now he was here. And with a beautiful woman. As Brenna reached to place the last plate, she realized someone was saying something to her.

  “I'm sorry, what did you say?” She turned to the gentleman and, in doing so, knocked over a glass of tea. “Damn!” Her elbow managed to catch a second glass, and it was all she could do not to scream. She wanted to cry. Better yet, disappear in a puff of smoke. Brenna grabbed a napkin and began to mop up the liquid. “I'm sorry. I--I seem to be a real klutz tonight.”

  The woman to Brenna's left politely nodded. “Don't worry, dear, we all get that way from time to time.”

  “Thanks for your patience, folks.” She smiled sheepishly, thinking they all had been very nice, considering their tablecloth was half-soaked in tea. “I'll tell you what, dessert is on the house. And I'll have someone change this linen in a moment.” She moved away from the table with a sigh of relief, then headed for the door, but a voice stopped her in mid-stride.

  “Miss.”

  That wasn't just any voice ... it was the voice that haunted her dreams. Just let me get out of this room. She took another step. She couldn't face him; she just couldn't. Perhaps, if she simply kept walking ...

  “Miss!”

  She heard the impatience in the deep masculine voice. It was no use, she couldn't escape now. Brenna started to turn. Everything around her moved in slow motion. She saw couples talking and smiling, and still she turned.

  She was nearly around.

  Sh
e could almost see him.

  Her stomach tightened.

  Her heart beat a frantic rhythm.

  Finally, her eyes rested on the man from her past. The man she’d sworn she would love forever.

  Taylor's vivid blue eyes registered surprise as they met hers, and then the surprise was replaced with something she didn't care for. Brenna's heavy feet wouldn't cooperate and her legs wobbled like Jell-O. It took all her strength to take each step as she moved closer, inch by inch, until at last she stood in front of his table.

  Taylor stared at her, his astonishment evident. At first, she didn't think he was going to speak ... but she was dead wrong.

  Chapter Two

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Taylor demanded.

  Brenna wasn't sure what she'd expected. Perhaps she'd hoped Taylor had missed her, maybe even forgiven her, but whatever she had expected it hadn't been this obvious hatred.

  “How can you be so rude?” his companion said, looking at Taylor, doubt in her eyes.

  Brenna tried to ignore the dizziness that swept over her from head to toe. Slipping her shaky hands into her apron pocket, she found an ink pen and clutched the metal tightly. She couldn't draw her gaze away from the coldness in Taylor's eyes. “Hello, Taylor.”

  The woman glanced from one to the other. “You two know each other?”

  Evidently, this was the new woman in Taylor's life, Brenna thought. Her replacement. Will he admit he knows me? She doubted it by the look on his face.

  She watched as Taylor fought for control. His brow wrinkled with a frown, then eased. He appeared tired, she thought, probably from working too much. And there used to be a gentleness about him, but that was gone, too replaced by a hardness she didn't care for. He swallowed and the muscle in his cheek twitched, drawing her eyes to the dimple in his strong chin.

  “Yes, I know her,” Taylor said with an ironic drawl.

  “And--?” His companion persisted.

  Brenna couldn't take her eyes off Taylor. Had he told his companion about his old girlfriend? It was evident he wasn't going to explain anything at the moment.

  “You didn't answer my earlier question.” Taylor reminded Brenna.

  “That's right, I didn't.” Brenna couldn't let him see how his sudden appearance had almost knocked her over. She knew she needed to put on the performance of her life, so she looked him straight in the eyes. “Welcome to Sleepy Hollow Inn.” She swept her hands in a welcome gesture. “I happen to own this place.”

  The shocked look on his face pleased Brenna very much.

  “It's nice to meet you. I'm Carol Holland. I think you must have surprised Taylor by the look on his face.” She extended her hand. “I take it you two know each other?”

  “My name is Brenna Fox, an old friend. I think that Taylor is just a little surprised to see me here.” Brenna managed a feeble smile as she took Carol's smooth hand, reluctantly conceding to herself the woman would be easy to like. “Is there something I can get you?”

  “We'd like a bottle of champagne to celebrate,” Carol told her. And the radiant smile she displayed told Brenna she was very happy.

  “Celebrate?”

  “Taylor asked me to marry him not more than ten minutes ago.” Carol held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers, displaying a dazzling, enormous diamond. “We're engaged.”

  Brenna's throat tightened, but she managed not to show her churning emotions as she pasted a smile on her face and said, “Congratulations. I'll have a bottle sent out to you immediately. Compliments of the house.” Then, continuing with her charade, she glanced again at Taylor. If anything, his eyes were bluer than she remembered and his hair a little blonder. But suddenly he seemed like a stranger to her.

  She went cold inside.

  It really was over between them. “I'm glad to see you're happy,” she managed to say.

  How she made it out of the room under her own power, Brenna didn't know, but once outside, she leaned against the wall until her breathing returned to normal. Hearing a noise, she turned to her right and saw Nell coming down the hallway toward her.

  “Look!” Brenna grabbed Nell's arm. “There's a man and woman sitting in there.” Brenna pointed behind her to Taylor's table.

  Nell frowned. “There are a lot of men and women in that room.”

  “I mean over there.” Brenna motioned to the corner table.

  “Yeah, I see them.”

  “Please get them a bottle of champagne and take it over to the table for me.”

  “Why?” Nell looked at Brenna with concern in her eyes.

  “Are you feeling sick? You're awful pale, honey.”

  “You could say that,” Brenna mumbled. “Don't ask any questions, and I'll double your salary for tonight.”

  Nell smiled brightly. “Far be it from me to ask anything.”

  Brenna sought the safety of the kitchen. “He's here!” She heard her voice squeak as she rushed through the door.

  Geraldine jumped at Brenna's outburst, then she turned and frowned. “Who's here?”

  “I--I never thought I--I'd see him again,” Brenna babbled as she started to pace. “Never in a million years. But h--he's here!”

  Geraldine folded her arms across her ample chest. “Would ya like to tell me who?”

  “Taylor!”

  Geraldine's eyebrows shot up. “Really,” she replied before turning back to the pot she had been stirring.

  “That's all you have to say?” Brenna stopped and gaped at her.

  “Nope.” Geraldine shook her head slowly. “It took the man long enough to look ya up.”

  “You don't understand,” Brenna said, feeling the hurt and anger she'd tried hard to ignore bubble to the surface. “He didn't come here to see me. He never even bothered to find out what happened to me. By some twist of fate he chose Sleepy Hollow to spend the night. And, get this ... propose to his girlfriend.”

  Geraldine finally put down the spoon and turned back to Brenna. “So, he ain't married?”

  “I just told you, he's engaged.”

  “But, he ain't married.”

  “Don't you go gawking at me like that. You should see the way he looks at me. Like I'm something he needs to wipe off his shoe.” Brenna grew quiet, and then added in a dejected whisper. “He hates me, Geraldine. Taylor actually hates me.” Brenna leaned against the counter and hung her head. She had never felt more miserable in her life.

  Geraldine furrowed her brow. “Look. Ya walked out on him so I’m sure that he’s angry, but hate -- I ain't too sure about that 'cause sometimes things look one way and turn out the other. Whatcha goin' to do?”

  Brenna shook her head and shrugged. “Stay as far away from him as I can.”

  “That might be hard to do with ya livin' under the same roof and all.”

  “Somehow, I'll find a way,” Brenna said as she walked out of the kitchen and headed for her office. Moving over to her desk, she ran her finger down the register. “Great,” she whispered, tracing Taylor's signature, which was as bold as the man she'd loved. He was staying in the Granny room--the room next to hers. And, he would be there until Tuesday.

  She had the feeling these next few days would be the longest of her life.

  Brenna managed to avoid Taylor the rest of the night by busying herself with work. When the dining room cleared, she helped Nell clean off the tables. Brenna wondered what Taylor had thought when Nell appeared at their table. Brenna smiled grimly. He was probably as relieved as she was.

  Back in their room, Taylor sat in an overstuffed, navy blue leather chair, staring at the pages of the book he held, but not seeing the words. Carol was unpacking and chatting; however, his mind was elsewhere.

  He still couldn't believe he'd proposed to two women in his life and now they were both under this roof. He'd always wanted to find Brenna and get her out of his system once and for all. All the searches had only led to dead ends, and he'd finally had to give up, convincing himself it was for the best. But now his churnin
g emotions settled in a large lump in the pit of his stomach.

  “Taylor, I've heard you grunt for the fifth time instead of answering me.” Carol looked at him in the dressing table mirror. He glanced down and frowned at his book. “That must be a darn good book because you've not taken your eyes off the thing. You sure don't look like a man who's blissfully happy,” she pointed out. “Unhappy would be the word to best describe your features. Your mind is definitely not on me.” She turned and looked at him. “Come to think of it, you've been distant and withdrawn all evening. Do you want to tell me who that woman is since you never bothered to answer my question? And why were you so rude to her?”

  “Brenna and I went to college together and I guess you could say we had a disagreement. I’m a little tired tonight and seeing her reminded me of what she did to a friend of mine,” he lied.

  “But that was in the past. You should let it go. She seems like a nice lady,” Carol said then continued to brush her hair. After a few minutes she asked, “Is something else wrong?”

  Taylor laid his book down on the small oak table beside him. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because you've been reading that same page for the last hour.”

  “Guess I'm a slow reader.” Taylor laughed uncomfortably and Carol's expression softened as she laughed, too. “Just having a little trouble relaxing. I'll try and do better.”

  “Maybe you’ll feel better after a good night sleep,” Carol said as she stood and stretched. “I’m tied myself.”

  When everything had been prepared for the next day, Brenna wearily climbed the stairs. She was dog-tired as she made her way to the top of the landing then proceeded down the hall. As she neared her room, she heard laughter from behind the Granny Room door. Her chest ached with the familiar longing she'd thought she'd buried some time ago. She could pick out Taylor's voice from a million people.

  At least he was happy.