At three forty-five, she called the
Sentinel
and canceled the interview with Sandy Bishoff.
“What’s up?” Sandy asked. “Is McNeil such a slave driver, he won’t let you come?”
She sniffed. “No. I’m finished with that job. I don’t feel well.”
“Do you think you’ll be better by tomorrow? We want to get the article in the paper right away. It’s not every day a hometown girl wins the grand prize in the Pillsbury Bake-Off.”
Despite her misery, she chuckled, remembering her original exhilaration when Sandy had informed her she’d won the ten thousand dollar prize. “Tomorrow will be fine.”
“Okay. Ten o’clock. And congratulations again, Haley.”
Ten minutes after hanging up with the reporter, her phone rang again. If it was Rand, she was in no shape to talk to him. Deciding to let the machine answer, she recognized a sharp twist of disappointment as Terry’s voice echoed through her apartment.
“Haley, McNeil just called to tell me the job was over. So I was wondering when you’d be available to go out again. Someone at Hewlett Packard needs an executive secretary for a few weeks. Call me.”
When the machine clicked off, Haley huddled in the middle of her bed, arms crossed over her chest, wiping the tears still sliding down her cheeks. Her apartment seemed more quiet and lonely than it had before Terry’s call. Rand had already canceled the contract. She didn’t think she could hurt more than she was already hurting, but new pain layered over the old creating an enormous weight in the region of her heart.
Through the remainder of the evening, she prowled the tiny confines of the apartment with restless energy. Depression settled over her like a heavy quilt. She stared at the phone until she realized she was waiting for him to call. A faint stirring of anger began to mushroom inside her. She nurtured it, fueled it, until it burned a trail straight through her. Rand McNeil was a jerk, jumping to the nastiest conclusions after eavesdropping on a few seconds of conversation. He hadn’t trusted her enough to listen to her explanation. She was glad she hadn’t told him she loved him. It couldn’t have been love anyway. Infatuation, lust, whatever. It was over. She didn’t need him in her life. She was fine before she met him, she’d be fine again.
The anger felt good, bracing. She glared at the phone, daring it to ring. She’d rip him a good one and then tell him to buzz off. She was pretty sure she was whistling in the dark, but healthy anger was a lot more productive than the pain she had experienced earlier. At nine-thirty, she fixed a tuna sandwich, showered, and fell exhausted into bed.
****
Rand sat on his patio, staring at the reflection of the moon in the pool. He’d been there pretty much all day. At one point he swam for more than an hour, pushing through the water at a punishing rate, trying to erase the twin demons of fury and desire that racked his body every time he looked at the shallow end of the pool where they had made love.
“Forget her!” he said out loud, his voice harsh in the stillness. He didn’t need her. Was tired of thinking about her. He’d had it with women. All women. He’d been so sure Haley was different. He’d been ready to lay his heart and his world at her feet. He was grateful he hadn’t uttered any words she could possibly construe as real involvement. He vowed to cut all memory of her out of his life, like a surgeon excising a cancer.
Chapter Fourteen
He wasn’t getting a damn thing done. Rand plunged his fingers through his hair, then rested his elbows on the stack of papers on his desk. The merger-acquisition moved forward like a ship in full sail. Most of the major decisions were behind him. He had built his reputation on his relentless attention to detail, yet he found himself delegating many of the decisions that still needed to be made. He refused to think about Haley. In the two days since she’d left, he had refused to think about her nearly every hour.
He had returned to his office intending to bury himself in work, and resented the constant pep talks he had to give his psyche every time her face appeared before him. He was better off without her. She meant nothing to him. She was a deceitful bitch. The words were starting to ring hollow as small tendrils of apprehension twisted his intestines. What if he was wrong about her? He grimaced, reliving the moment when he heard her agree to the interview with the reporter from the
Boise Sentinel
. No. He wasn’t wrong, just incredibly stupid.
If Haley had kept the interview with Bishoff, it would be in tonight’s paper. He actually looked forward to it. He didn’t care if she spilled her guts. In fact, he hoped she did. It was all he needed to get her totally out of his system. Rand stood and walked to the large bank of windows overlooking downtown Boise. Off to the west, gray clouds massed above the mountains, casting a pall over the city that reflected his mood.
The intercom buzzed, and the secretary he had borrowed from the training department informed him he had a phone call.
“Who is it?” The tension knotted into a fist size ball in his stomach. What if it was Haley, begging forgiveness.
“She says she’s your sister.”
The relief was coupled with a vague disappointment as he picked up the receiver. “Hello, Elizabeth.’’
“Rand. Where’s Haley?” Elizabeth sounded excited. “I called your house and the housekeeper said you’d gone back to work. Is Haley there?”
“She’s not here.”
“Where is she? I want to congratulate her. If you guys are going to celebrate, Craig and I want to go with you.”
“Look, Sis, I’m really busy, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
There was a long pause. Then Elizabeth asked quietly, “What’s wrong?”
He laughed harshly. “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. Haley and I aren’t... We’re not... Hell, she was only a temporary employee, and I didn’t need her anymore. She’s probably working for someone else by now.”
“She’s not working for someone else. The article says she’s starting her own catering business.”
Rand held his breath. “What article?”
“The one in today’s paper. It says Haley will use the money to begin a business.”
“Elizabeth,” Rand said impatiently. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about. Did Haley get money for doing an article?” This was it. The confirmation. He wondered how long it would be before the tabloids picked it up.
“What’s going on?” Elizabeth demanded. “Four days ago, you guys couldn’t keep your hands off each other, and now you don’t know anything about her? She’s my friend. What did you do?”
Incensed that his sister would accuse him of doing something to Haley, he flared. “It’s none of your damn business what happened between us, but I’m telling you Haley is not the friend you seem to think she is. She’s a mercenary, greedy...” His voice had risen with each word and he finally clamped his mouth shut before he really lost control. He was shaken to realize how near the edge he was.
“Okay. Okay. Calm down.” Elizabeth soothed. “Obviously something is terribly wrong between the two of you. I’m sorry. I really like Haley, but you’re my brother. Maybe I’ll just send a card rather than call her.”
Curiosity forced him to ask. “Why would you send her a card?”
“Because she won all that money,” she said, sounding surprised.
“What money?” His heart beat a nervous tattoo in his chest as he unconsciously braced for the answer.
“Rand, Haley is the grand prizewinner for the Pillsbury Bakeoff recipe contest. She won ten thousand dollars.”
Rand’s knees gave out, and he sank into the rolling chair at his desk. His voice was shaking when he asked, “Is the article in today’s paper?”
“Yes. With a cute picture of her and the Dough Boy. I guess the Pillsbury people flew in to give her the award. Anyway in the article, she says she’ll use the money to open her own catering business someplace downtown.”
Waves of nausea rolled over him. “Who wrote the article?”
“That Bishoff guy. The one you can’t stand.”
Rand swore so viciously, his sister gasped on the other end of the line. “Rand, why are you angry with her? What did she do?”
The memory of his brutal accusations and Haley’s stricken face rolled over him like an avalanche, churning his gut and making him physically ill. He’d been wrong.
“God. She’ll never forgive me.”
“Rand?” Elizabeth’s voice broke in. “Tell me right now what you did that she won’t forgive you for? Maybe I can help.”
“No one can help me, Sis. I made a terrible mistake and said some things to Haley that most women would never forgive.”
“Haley’s not like most women. Call her. Explain what happened. I know she cares about you.” She hesitated. “Would you like me to call her for you?”
Despite his misery, he almost grinned. “No. I can do my own repair work.”
He hoped he was right.
After hanging up the phone, he sent his new secretary out to buy a newspaper. When she returned, he spread the pages on his desk, avidly staring at the picture of Haley smiling up at the rotund figure of the Pillsbury Doughboy, their hands curled around a large replica of a ten thousand-dollar check. He stared at the grainy picture as if he could will her to look up from the page and recognize him. The past few days were the most hellish of his existence, and he knew he couldn’t live without her. Whatever it took, he’d convince her they were meant to be together.
This was a simple misunderstanding—they’d talk. He’d have to apologize. He was ready to get on his knees and grovel, admit he’d been an ass. She might be cool at first. He’d hurt her, and he’d hurt himself. He counted on Haley’s sense of fair play to at least listen to him.
Although no address was listed, her cell number was in the contract she signed when he hired the WorkForce Agency. Dialing the number almost sent him into cardiac arrest. It rang four times before it went to her voice mail:
This is Haley. Please leave a message, and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.
He slammed down the receiver, unable to think of a damn thing to say that wouldn’t sound asinine. He didn’t want to leave a message. He needed to talk to her face to face.
He dialed the number of WorkForce Services and asked to speak to Terry Engles.
“What can I do for you, McNeil?” The employment agency owner’s voice was cool.
“I need to speak with Haley Marchand.”
“She’s not here.”
This certainly wasn’t the response Rand usually received from the gregarious Engles.
“Well, I uh, I need to ask her some questions. It’s, ah…it’s very important,” he stumbled, frantically trying to come up with a good reason for discovering Haley’s whereabouts.
“Mr. McNeil, you’ve been a good client, and I would hate losing you.” Rand recognized the cold fury in Terry’s tone. “But Haley Marchand’s services are no longer available to you or your company, and if I ever find out what you did to make her so miserable, I will personally break your face.”
“I’d deserve it,” Rand said quietly. “But she’s not the only one who’s miserable. I need to find her, talk to her. To apologize. I’m…I’m very fond of her.”
“Sorry, man. I can’t help you.” Terry’s voice lost its hard edge. “I’m sure if you’re persistent, you’ll find a way to contact her.”
“At least tell me where she lives,” Rand asked desperately, but Engles hung up on him.
Now Rand was on a quest. He looked up Phyllis Riddick’s number. She picked up after the first ring.
“I believe it may be too late, Mr. McNeil.” she said as she answered the phone, and Rand again experienced the eerie other world vibes the dippy woman projected. Then he remembered caller I.D.
“I just need to talk to her, Phyllis. Do you know where she is?”
“I do. But I don’t think it’s wise for you to contact her right now.”
“I have to. I need to make things right between us. I said some terrible things to her. I have to apologize.”
Rand didn’t care if he was begging for help. He had a desperate feeling that if he didn’t find Haley immediately, he’d lose her permanently. “Please, help me.”
She sighed. “Young people never accept wise counsel. I am warning you, if you speak to her now, you will not appreciate the outcome.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Rand said optimistically. “I just need her address. I can clear up this mess if I can just speak to her face to face.”
Phyllis rattled off Haley’s Boise address. “I wish you well, Mr. McNeil. You and Haley are compatible and would deal nicely together. But you are not the only one she could be happy with. And you are the only one, so far, who has hurt her deeply. Do not expect an easy resolution to this problem.” She hung up abruptly.
Her warning sent a shiver of alarm through Rand. What if she was right? He had hurt Haley. Maybe it was too soon to make amends. Was his ego so large that he believed he could fix all things? He thought he’d fix the fiasco of his broken engagement to Angela Blakely by asking Haley to play a role he indicated she wasn’t suited for. What an arrogant bastard he’d been. He almost grinned remembering how she’d stood up to him. He stopped grinning as the recollection of her final words slammed into him.
Don’t come whining to me when you find out what an imbecile you’ve been.
Before he went to see Haley, perhaps he’d better smooth the way. He called a florist and ordered three dozen roses sent to her apartment. For good measure, he also had an extra dozen delivered to Phyllis Riddick. On the card to Haley, he wrote:
I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Rand.
By two p.m. he was pacing his office like a caged animal, Phyllis’ words ringing in his head with a doleful repetitiveness.
You are the only one, so far, who has hurt her so deeply.
He knew the flowers had been delivered hours ago. He’d called the florist to make sure. When he couldn’t stand the inactivity any longer, he buzzed the secretary. “Miss Tucker, I’m leaving for the day. If I get any personal phone calls, please forward them to my cell phone.”
“Okay,” the chirpy voice assured him. “Before you go, could you come out here and sign for a package? The messenger just walked in.”