Jennifer Greene - Can’t Say No

“Your vacation’s done you good, Bree,” Richard said quietly. “You’re brown, and you don’t look nearly so tired.”

“Thank you.” Bree carefully stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee and then stared down at it. She never took sugar. Taking a breath, she faced Richard’s soft brown eyes. “I wish you had told me ahead of time that you were coming-”

“I could have called,” he agreed. “But I was eager to see you. I don’t want to push you into anything, Bree, but I came to return something to you.” He took a small, square box from his pocket and set it gently on the table.

Bree recognized the ring box and remembered well the night he’d given it to her. He’d been so terribly nervous; Richard abhorred emotional scenes, and she’d tried to make it easier for him. He’d set it up with champagne and soft lights, and she’d felt like saying no such fuss was necessary. They’d both known where the relationship was going; both had cautiously tested the way for months. They’d discussed their favorite foods, their common interests, how many children they wanted, what kind of house they wanted to live in.

She remembered that strange instant of panic when she’d first opened the box to that diamond solitaire, all alone in its fourteen-karat-gold setting. She’d felt the crazy sensation that she was pinning herself down to a lifetime of being alone in a misleadingly safe and beautiful setting, but she’d pushed the sensation aside and kissed him.

But that was how she’d looked at things then. Safety had seemed so important. One didn’t make major decisions about one’s life based on crazy, wild, romantic, combustible feelings…

Dammit. What was Hart doing now?

“Darling?” Richard’s voice was coaxing, very gentle.

Bree felt like brushing back that shock of dark hair from his forehead as she would for a child. “I can’t take the ring back,” she said softly. “It’s not because I don’t care for you. I always did and I always will, and I wish you the absolute best. But it wouldn’t work, Richard, not the right way. I really can’t be the wife you truly want-”

“Of course you can.” Richard leaned forward, his dark eyes as soft as a spaniel’s. “Please, Bree. Listen to me. We have absolutely everything in common. I tried to understand your wanting a period of time alone down here-and I’ll still try to understand, if you want more time to yourself. I waited to come because I didn’t want to upset or push you, but if you want me to wait a little longer…”

No, Bree thought wretchedly. You dear man, you would never have pushed me.

Richard would have let her go on not talking; Richard would have agreed to a vacation in the Arctic if she’d asked; Richard would have let her hibernate for a year if she’d wanted to. Richard didn’t like arguments and had always had the endearing quality of wanting to please. So unlike Hart. Hart took hearts and shredded them up in his free time. And if she’d tried an itty-bitty hibernating nap with Hart, he’d have kicked her out of bed…well, maybe not bed …but he’d certainly have shouted at her to get on with her life. There was just no rest with Hart. He was unsettling and upsetting…

And she was in a terrible hurry to get back to him.

Bree gently pushed the ring box toward Richard, hating the hurt in his eyes, hating herself for being the cause of it. “Time won’t change things,” she said gently. “Please accept that. I can’t take it back, Richard, and I’m terribly sorry I’ve hurt you-”

“Now, Bree. Let’s talk about this,” he insisted.

One of Richard’s few faults was that he had such a thick skin. Helplessly, Bree watched the waitress serve a second cup of coffee and then a third. Richard started to talk computers, knowing from time-honored habit that shop talk inevitably calmed her down.

She tried to listen, feeling she owed him that much. She tried to smile, and her mind tried frantically to stop thinking about Hart. It didn’t work. The only thing in her head was how he’d walked off in such a final way. Maybe he was packing to leave now. It was like him, to sever a relationship as quickly as he’d established it. He wasn’t a patient man. He was an irrational man, with a thousand really maddening qualities. He expected people to change overnight. He had no tolerance at all for people who didn’t shout about what they wanted from life, who didn’t go after it, who didn’t run full speed after what made them happy…

“…I can understand your not wanting to work with Marie. I always thought she gave you the short end of the stick, Bree. There’s an opening in the company I work for. I know I could get you in, and-”

“Richard?” Bree interrupted quietly. She looked him square in the eye, stopped trying to smile and took a deep breath. Being nice was so much…nicer. It was just a pity that being nice didn’t always work. “No,” she said simply.

Silence echoed across the table for a good sixty seconds. Bree finally broke it by reaching down to pick up her purse.

As soon as Richard’s car left the driveway, Bree flew into the cabin and up the loft stairs, stripping off the yellow cotton frock she’d worn for dinner. She tossed on the bed, in rapid succession, her dress, stockings, slip and underpants. Stripped down to bare skin, she raced back downstairs, leaped gingerly onto the dry sink and started pumping in water. There was no time to take a bath in the pond. She was in too much of a hurry.

Maybe he was already gone. Or maybe he was just out. Or maybe he was picking up another woman somewhere. Or maybe…

Lowering her dripping feet to the floor, she rubbed her skin dry with a towel and flew back up the stairs again. Tugging open the wardrobe, she thumbed through the hangers impatiently, finding absolutely nothing with any seductive potential. She’d packed for solitary cottage living, not come-hither nonsense. And you shouldn’t be racing; you should be feeling thoroughly guilty over Richard, she told herself severely, as she lifted out a stark-white silk blouse, wrinkled her nose and let the blouse fall to the floor.

She did feel guilty, actually. She’d shared a great deal with Richard, and she cared for him and she was miserably sorry he’d traveled so far for nothing. But continuing to sit and listen to him wasn’t going to lessen his hurt and it wasn’t going to change her feelings. Besides, whether he knew it or not, she would have made him terribly unhappy. A good man deserved a good woman.

She just wasn’t that eternally good Bree anymore. She was a most imperfect Bree, a lady willing to throw away all common sense for the love of a most imperfect man. A man who made her feel terribly alive every second she was with him. A man who was a fibber and a fraud and a little bit of a bully and who regularly insulted her and who was far too attractive to other women…

Really, that she knew all his faults and didn’t care had to be either a sign of mental degeneration or an extreme case of a love worth shouting for.

Reaching for a mint-green camisole, she held it up to the mirror and decided Hart would like it…especially if she wore it braless. The straps were little more than satin ribbons, the bodice skimmed the tops of her breasts, and when she bought it, she hadn’t been absolutely positive whether it was a top or underwear.

Hart had to like it.

The mint-green short shorts weren’t exactly seductive, but she was limited by the wardrobe at hand. At least they showed off her brown legs…Bending close to the crooked mirror in the corner, she lavished on mascara, eye shadow and her most delectable perfume. On second thought, she brushed on a quick layer of blusher. On third thought, she added a little lip gloss. Her hair…her hair was a wreck, weaving every which way in determined auburn waves. One wave, when she worked with it, formed a seductive curl over one eye. Quitting while she was ahead, she raced downstairs.