Steel Resolve. B.J. Daniels
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When he’d looked into her green eyes, she hadn’t needed him to tell her that he loved her. She had seen it.
The memory made her smile. And he’d enjoyed what she had waiting for him underneath that suit—just as she knew he would. They’d both been a little drunk that night. She’d had to make all the moves, but she hadn’t minded.
Not that she would ever admit it to him, but she’d set her sights on him the moment she’d seen him at the party. There was something about him that had drawn her. A vulnerability she recognized. He’d been hurt before. So had she, too many times to count. She’d told herself that the handsome cowboy didn’t know just how perfect he was, perfect for her.
Fiona hadn’t exactly thrown herself at him. She’d just been determined to make him forget that other woman by making herself indispensable. She’d brought over dinner the next night. He’d been too polite to turn her away. She’d come up with things they could do together: baseball games, picnics, movies. But the harder she’d tried, the more he’d made excuses for why he couldn’t go with her.
She stared down at the letter still in her hands, wanting to rip it to shreds, to tear this woman’s eyes out, to—
Suddenly she froze. Was that the door of the apartment opening? It was. Just as she’d feared, Chase had come home early.
At the sound of the door closing and locking, she hurriedly refolded the letter, slipped it back into the envelope and shoved it under his socks. She was trapped. There was no way to get out of the apartment without him seeing her. He was going to be upset with her. But the one thing she couldn’t let Chase know was that she’d found and read the letter. She couldn’t give him an excuse to break things off indefinitely, even though she knew he’d been trying to do just that for the past couple of weeks—ever since he’d gotten that letter.
She hurried to the bedroom door, but hesitated. Maybe she should get naked and let him find her lying on his bed. She wasn’t sure she could pull that off right now. Standing there, she tried to swallow back the anger, the hurt, the fear. She couldn’t let him know what she was feeling—let alone how desperate she felt. But as she heard him coming up the stairs, she had a terrifying thought.
What if she’d put the letter back in the drawer wrong? Had she seen the woman’s handwriting on the envelope? Wasn’t that why she’d felt such a jolt? Or was it just seeing the pale lavender paper of the envelope in his sock drawer that had made her realize what it was?
She couldn’t remember.
But would Chase remember how he’d left it and know that she’d seen it? Know that if she’d found it, she would read it?
She glanced back and saw that she hadn’t closed the top dresser drawer all the way. Hurrying back over to it, she shut the drawer as quietly as possible and was about to turn when she heard him in the doorway.
“Fiona? What the hell?” He looked startled at first when he saw her, and then shock quickly turned to anger.
She could see that she’d scared him. He’d scared her too. Her heart was a drum in her chest. She was clearly rattled. She could feel the fine mist of perspiration on her upper lip. With one look, he would know something was wrong.
But how could she not be upset? The man she’d planned to marry had kept a letter from his ex a secret from her. Worse, the woman he’d been pining over when Fiona had met him was still in love with him—and now he knew it. Hiding the letter proved that he was at least thinking about Mary Cardwell Savage.
“What are you doing here?” Chase demanded, glancing around as if the answer was in the room. “How the hell did you get in this time?”
She tried to cover, letting out an embarrassed laugh. “You startled me. I was looking for my favorite lipstick. I thought I might have left it here.”
He shook his head, raking a hand through his hair. “You have to stop this. I told you last time. Fiona—” His blue gaze swept past her to light on the chest of drawers.
Any question as to how he felt about the letter was quickly answered by his protective glance toward the top bureau drawer and the letter from his first love, the young woman who’d broken his tender heart, the woman he was still in love with.
Her own heart broke, shattering like a glass thrown against a wall. She wanted to kill Mary Cardwell Savage.
“Your lipstick?” He shook his head. “Again, how did you get in here?”
“You forgot to lock your door. I came by hoping to catch your building manager so he could let me in again—”
“Fiona, stop lying. I talked to him after the last time. He didn’t let you in.” The big cowboy held out his hand. “Give it to me.”
She pretended not to know what he was talking about, blinking her big green eyes at him in the best innocent look she could muster. She couldn’t lose this man. She wouldn’t. She did the only thing she could. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the key. “I can explain.”
“No need,” he said as he took the key.
She felt real tears of remorse fill her eyes. But she saw that he was no longer affected by her tears. She stepped to him to put her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Maybe if she could draw him toward the bed...
“Fiona, stop.” He grabbed her wrists and pulled them from around his neck. “Stop!”
She stared at him, feeling the happy life she’d planned crumbling under her feet.
He groaned and shook his head. “You need to leave.”
“Sure,” she said and, trying to get control of her emotions, started to step past him. “Just let me look in one more place for my lipstick. I know I had it—”
“No,” he said, blocking her way. “Your lipstick isn’t here and we both know it. Just like your phone wasn’t here the last time you stopped by. This has to stop. I don’t want to see you again.”
“You don’t mean that.” Her voice broke. “Is this about the letter from that bitch who dumped you?”
His gaze shot to the bureau again. She watched his expression change from frustrated to furious. “You’ve been going through my things?”
“I told you, I was looking for my lipstick. I’m sorry I found the letter. You hadn’t called, and I thought maybe it was because of the letter.”
He sighed, and when he spoke it was as if he was talking to a small unruly child. “Fiona, I told you from the first night we met that I wasn’t ready for another relationship. You caught me at a weak moment, otherwise nothing would have happened between the two of us. I’d had too much to drink, and my boss’s wife insisted that I let you drive me back to my apartment.” He groaned. “I’m not trying to make excuses for what happened. We are both adults. But I was honest with you.” He looked pained, his blue eyes dark. “I’m sorry if you thought that that night was more than it was. But now you have to leave and not come back.”
“We can’t be over! You have to give me another chance.” She’d heard the words before from other men, more times than she wanted to remember. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to come here when you weren’t home. I won’t do anything like this again. I promise.”
“Stop!” he snapped. “You’re not listening. Look,” he said, lowering his voice. “You might as well know that I’m leaving at the end of the week. My job here is over.”
“Leaving?” This couldn’t be happening. “Where are you going?” she cried, and felt her eyes widen in alarm. “You’re going back to Montana. Back to her. Mary Cardwell Savage.” She spit out the words as if they were stones that had been lodged in her throat.
He shook his head. “I told you the night we met that there was no chance of me falling for another woman because I was still in love with someone else.”
She