New Way to Fly (18 page)

“If you say so.”

Amanda struggled to control another irrational surge of annoyance, knowing that she wasn't being fair.

None of her problem was Edward's fault. After all, he hadn't done anything to hurt her or to damage their relationship. He'd just gone off to Dallas on a business trip, secure in the understanding that Amanda wanted to go to New York with him and was happily waiting for him to come back so they could plan their future.

But when he returned, everything had changed. Amanda was preoccupied and uncertain, beset by doubts and unable to make any kind of physical or emotional commitment to her former lover.

In spite of his obvious surprise at this turn of events, Edward had shown admirable patience. He
was careful not to push or annoy her. In fact, he was unusually sensitive to Amanda's strange new mood.

Amanda glanced at him critically. Just how much did her behavior matter to him? Did anything really affect him?

What if she told him she'd changed her mind, she wasn't going to New York and didn't even want to see him again? How would he feel? Would he be crushed? Would he cry himself to sleep in the privacy of his hotel room?

Amanda shook her head, trying to imagine Edward shedding tears over her or anybody else.

“What?” he asked.

Amanda looked up at him blankly, about to take another bite of her fajita.

“You're shaking your head. What are you thinking about, Angel? You're such a mystery these days.”

“Edward…” Amanda paused, took a sip of water to cool the flame in her throat, then gave him another questioning glance.

“Yes, darling? God, these beans taste awful. When they say ‘refried,' they're being quite literal, aren't they? These things are nothing but warmed-up leftovers. Sorry, Angel,” he added hastily. “You were about to ask me something?”

“Do you ever cry, Edward? Does anything ever make you cry?”

He gazed at her for a moment in appalled silence. “Well, I should hope not,” he said at last. “Why would I allow myself to be in a position where something could reduce me to tears? That wouldn't be too smart, would it, Angel? After all,” he added, moving the soft mass of beans to the side of his plate with a grimace, “a man is required to have some strength, isn't he? Society seems to expect it.”

Amanda nodded, her mind warming with a sudden memory of Brock Munroe, of his lean naked body and his strong steel-hard arms around her as he lay holding her in the afternoon sunlight. She remembered how his voice had broken as he tried to tell her how she'd made him feel…

She shuddered and plunged back into her food, struggling to put a wall of reality between herself and the memories.

Those stolen moments in the sunlight had been the sweetest she'd ever known, absolutely the most exciting and sexually fulfilling experience of her life. But when it was over, when she'd finally managed to pull herself out of Brock's arms, she'd dressed with blind haste and ridden in silence back to her car, grabbed her keys and rushed away from the man with hardly a word or a backward glance.

Amanda hadn't spoken with Brock Munroe since that day, though he called regularly and left messages on her machine. She was still reluctant to deal with
what had happened, but she knew that the matter couldn't be put off any longer. Amanda had to question why she had yielded so readily to a passing sexual impulse, and what that yielding said about her relationship with the man who sat across the table from her.

Was her astonishing seduction of Brock Munroe an expression of dissatisfaction with Edward? Or was it just a rebellion against Edward's placid calm, his unruffled composure and self-absorbed ambition? Was she being unwise, committing herself to a man who made her feel so restless and irritated?

But then, maybe the restlessness and irritation sprang from her own reluctance to commit. Maybe when she finally gave in, delivered her life wholly into Edward's hands and let him guide their future, she would no longer be vulnerable to the sexual charm of a man like Brock Munroe.

Amanda shook her head to dispel the thoughts. She smiled wryly, thinking about Mary Gibson, who believed that Amanda was so strong and decisive, such a sterling example of the New Woman.

If she only knew, Amanda thought. If Mary could look inside Amanda's head and see the confusion and bewilderment that crowded there, the lonely misery and the childlike longing for somebody to come along and somehow magically make everything all right…

“You're doing it again,” Edward commented.

“Doing what?”

“Shaking your head and grimacing. Could it be that you secretly share my opinion of this food, but real Texans aren't allowed to say such a thing out loud?”

“I love Mexican food,” Amanda said staunchly. “I'm just…I have a lot on my mind, Edward.”

“Well,” he said mildly, “I hope some of it pertains to me.”

“Oh, yes,” Amanda told him fervently. “Oh, yes, Edward, you can be sure that you're very much in my thoughts these days.”

“Good,” he said. “Because we do have some decisions to make, Angel. I'm sure you're aware of that.”

“Oh, I'm aware of it, all right,” Amanda told him gloomily. “I'm definitely aware that decisions need to be made.”

“That's excellent. So how's this for a beginning, my love?”

He took a sip of water and paused. Amanda glanced up at him, surprised by the sudden crispness in his tone.

“I'm leaving tonight for a couple of days. I have some business in Dallas, Amanda. There was a terrific young designer there who's possibly interested
in moving to New York, and I'm going to see if she can be wooed by charm and money.”

“She?” Amanda echoed, giving him a quick glance.

Edward grinned. “Jealous, Angel?”

“Of course not,” Amanda said firmly.

“Good. Now, I'll be back here on Sunday to see you before I leave, and then—”

“Leave? You mean after Dallas?”

“I
do
have a business in New York, darling. I can't stay here forever, socializing with all your cowboy friends, no matter how delightful they are.”

Amanda shuddered at the words
cowboy friends,
and gripped her napkin tightly in her lap.

“So what I propose is this.” Edward paused to sip his wine and gazed at her with the commanding look that always made her heart stand still.

“Yes?”

“Two weeks, Angel,” he told her serenely. “I'll give you two weeks after I get back to New York to make your final decision. You'll have to decide within that time how to dispose of your business, when you want to move and just how you intend, generally speaking, to make this transition.”

Amanda swallowed hard, her mind a blur of confused thoughts. “Two weeks isn't…it's not a very long time, Edward.”

“Angel,” he said gently, “I have an opening that
needs to be filled. I can't wait indefinitely. If you don't want to be my buyer, there are a number of highly qualified people who've already indicated they'd be delighted to take the job.”

“I know, Edward,” Amanda said in a small voice. “And you're being more than fair with me. I appreciate your patience, I really do. It's just such a big decision. I don't know if two weeks is—”

“Two weeks is all I can give you, dear. I have to have your final decision by then.” Edward paused, letting his eyes rest on her with significant warmth, reaching across the table to grip her hand. “And I hope you decide to come with me, Angel,” he whispered. “You have no idea how very much I want you. And how much I need you.”

Amanda gazed at him, wide-eyed, trying to recall if he'd ever said those words to her before.

I need you…

His handsome face blurred and shimmered, turned slowly tanned and hard with a humorous lopsided grin and keen dark eyes. Amanda blinked, genuinely wondering if she might be losing her mind.

“Oh, look,” Edward was saying. “There's your jockey friend.”

Amanda turned and waved at Lynn McKinney, who was walking across the room with Ken Slattery and Nora Jones, heading for Jeff and Beverly's table.

“Pretty little thing, isn't she?” Edward com
mented with warm approval. “You'd never think, seeing her in that dress, that she can ride the way she does.”

“She's deceptive, all right.” Amanda smiled wistfully at the group of them. They were all laughing and happy. Ken, tall and craggy, quietly handsome, had his arm protectively around Nora. He leaned over to whisper something teasing in her ear while the others laughed again.

They all turned toward the main entry, calling and waving. Amanda looked in that direction, too, expecting to see Sam Russell join the group.

Suddenly her heart stood still, then began to thunder in her chest, almost choking her. Her hands shook and her mouth went dry, while Edward glanced at her curiously.

Brock Munroe was striding into the room, smiling a greeting at the group around Beverly's table, his big body lithe and easy in clean jeans and a casual plaid shirt.

“My goodness,” Edward murmured. “A real, genuine cowboy. I assume that's the jockey's partner in life?”

Amanda cast her escort a quick distracted glance, barely taking in his words, then turned to gaze once again at Brock, who was now seating himself next to Lynn.

This was the first time she'd seen Brock Munroe
since those wondrous moments in the sunshine. But there was no doubt the man had cast some kind of spell on her. She, Amanda Walker, who had always been so dainty and fastidious and sophisticated, was now consumed with a raw hunger for the touch of those large yet so-gentle hands, an aching need to feel his lips on hers.

Amanda felt suddenly, violently jealous of Lynn, who sat beside him, leaning toward him, smiling at something he'd just said….

This is crazy,
Amanda told herself.
This is just crazy. Nothing like this has ever happened to me in my whole life….

Edward, too, was gazing at Brock Munroe in mild fascination. “I didn't know there were still types like that in the world,” he commented cheerfully. “Did they make him check his six-guns at the door, d'you suppose, Angel? Is his horse double-parked outside?”

Amanda's cheeks burned in embarrassment. From Edward's sophisticated New York point of view, Brock did seem like a visitor from another planet, a quaint anachronism that had no place in the modern-day world. If she were to tell Edward what had happened, that this cowboy in the blue jeans had been her lover just a few days ago, he would laugh and think she was joking.

Maybe it
was
all just a joke, Amanda told herself
frantically. Maybe it was just some cruel cosmic jest of fate, one that she needed to fight with everything at her disposal. And maybe the only way to dispel Brock Munroe's hold over her was to look at him through Edward's eyes.

Suddenly she pushed her chair back with an abrupt decisive gesture and got up, meeting Edward's surprised glance with a small awkward smile. “Excuse me for a moment, Edward,” she murmured. “I have to…to talk with some people.”

Conscious of his startled gaze resting on her back, Amanda crossed the room with her chin high and her face calm, though her heart pounded so loudly that she was afraid it might be audible.

She murmured a greeting to J.T. McKinney and his wife, and to Vern and Carolyn Trent. Then she paused by the table where the younger couples were seated, her resolve almost vanishing when Brock finally caught sight of her.

His dark eyes flared with emotion, then grew cautious and guarded as she looked away from him, greeting the others with a bright forced smile.

“Hi, Mandy,” Beverly said cheerfully. “Why don't y'all come and join us? Are we too crude for Prince Edward's taste?”

“Thanks, but we're almost finished our meal and Edward's leaving for Dallas in a couple of hours,”
Amanda said. “I just didn't want to miss this opportunity, since you're all together here.”

She cleared her throat and hesitated, wondering what on earth she was doing, wishing she could sink through the floor and die, but knowing with desperate unhappiness that this action was completely necessary if she was ever to free her mind of doubts and conflict and make a rational decision.

“Well, nobody should ever miss an opportunity if they can help it,” Ken Slattery said quietly, smiling at Amanda in an obvious attempt to set her at ease.

She returned his smile gratefully. “That's right, Ken. And I just wanted to invite all of you over to my place for dinner on Sunday night. Edward is…”

She paused, painfully conscious of Brock's blazing dark eyes that seemed to look into her very soul.

“Edward is leaving on Monday for New York,” she said. “Temporarily, at least,” she added, when Brock's eyes widened with interest. “And I thought I'd have a little farewell dinner for him. You two,” she said to Beverly and Jeff, “and Ken and Nora, and Lynn, you can bring Sam if he's free, and Brock, I'd like you to come, too,” she added casually, as if the man was no more than an afterthought.