“Talk to me, goddammit.”
“What do you want me to say? I went so far beyond my comfort zone tonight that I lost myself? But in some respects it only made me realize how different we are?”
“We’re not that different.”
“Really? I don’t live my personal or professional life in the shadow of expectations from others,” she shot back.
“And I do? That’s the type of man you think I am?”
Finally Keely looked at him. “That is the type of man you are, Jack. Instead of being who you are on the inside all the time, you change who you are to fit the circumstances.”
That stung. But it wasn’t the point. Why was Keely making this about him? She was the one who’d been ambushed by Martine. She was the one who’d bolted from the party. And not because she’d suddenly realized some startling truth about his business acumen—or lack thereof. She was focusing on him, his flaws, rather than the issue at hand. How badly she’d been hurt.
Clever. Sneaky. But he wouldn’t let it slide.
Jack stalked her. Her spine hit the tool bench; he curled his hands around her biceps. “I’m sorry. I’m a total and complete f**k up. A total and complete jackass. I will let you yell obscenities and scream insults at me to your heart’s content, but first I need you. I need this.” He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. He kept kissing her until she responded with the sweetness, goodness and heat that filled the empty part of his soul. He hadn’t understood the depth of the missing piece until she came into his life.
He whispered kisses along the elegant line of her neck. “Please. Come back with me, cowgirl.”
“I can’t.”
“Or won’t?”
“I won’t be paraded through the hotel like a naughty child who’s run away and is back to face the music. And it goes beyond me not wanting to run into Martine.”
“Does it go beyond you not wanting to be with me?”
“I don’t know.”
Another direct hit. “Well, buttercup, you can’t sleep in this barn, though I’m sure you’ll point out as a Wyoming tough girl you’ve done it more than once.”
“That would be true. And horses are better company than people. They don’t judge. They don’t talk back.”
“Yeah, but they smell like shit and try to throw you on your ass at every opportunity.” He saw her lips twitch. “Besides, I won’t let you drive back to Wyoming this time of night by yourself. Whatever you do, stay here, or go back to the hotel, I’ll be with you.”
Keely absentmindedly brushed tufts of hair from her cheek. “I’ll stay at your condo until I can leave tomorrow.”
“Keely—”
“Either I stay at your place or I hit the road. Choose.”
“My place it is.”
They’d crawled under the covers; a chasm yawned between them as wide as the bed. Close but not touching. Not sleeping. Keely faced away from him. He stared at the ceiling, a million thoughts raced in his head. None coherent.
Jack finally asked her the question that’d bugged him all night. Been bugging him for years, actually.
“Keely, do you think I’m shallow?”
She rolled over. “Sometimes. With some things. But I don’t think you’re as shallow as you pretend to be.”
Jack frowned. “Meaning what?”
“If you wear expensive suits, live in a swanky condo and drive a pricey car, people will think you’re successful.”
“That makes me shallow?”
“No. That makes them shallow because that’s all they see. Are you successful because you care about other people’s perceptions? Or are you successful because you want to be?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re successful because you love what you do, Jack. The money is just a bonus.”
He smiled in the darkness.
“But it’s easy to get trapped in that name brand mindset. To start to believe that what’s on the outside—what you wear, where you live, what you drive, where you’ve been—is more important than who you are inside those trappings.”
“So you saying appearances don’t matter at all?”
“Yes, appearances do matter, but it shouldn’t define you.”
“Does it define you?” he countered.
“No. What if I’d tracked you down in the banquet wearing my stable-cleaning clothes? If you’d pretended not to know me, that’s shallow. If you’d kissed my cheek and said, ‘Darlin’, next time leave the shitkickers at home,’ that’s caring less about appearances because you were happy to be with me.”
Jack seized the chance to turn the tables. “Would you be happy to be with me, Keely? If the reverse was true?”
“Meaning what?”
“Say I accept your dirty boots and western quirks. Say you accept I’m a suit-and-tie-wearing guy. Say I’m madly in love with you. You’re madly in love with me. Would you give up your way of life to be with me?”
“Way of life?” she repeated.
“Would you move away from your home in Wyoming to live with me in this condo in Colorado? Or are you so set in your ways that you wouldn’t consider it?”
“What does that have to do with being shallow?” she demanded.
“Don’t you think it’s shallow that you won’t consider living anywhere besides Wyoming?”
“Not the same. Not at all.”
“Really? You don’t look at me with pity because I live in a high rise and wear a monkey suit? The same way those women pitied you for what you wore and where you lived?”
Sticky silence.
Jack wanted to tell her he wasn’t just hypothesizing. Would any kind of long term, real relationship have to be solely on her terms?
“Maybe I am shallow,” she said in a small voice. “I never thought of it that way. You definitely gave me something to think about.”
“Keely. You misunderstood.”
“The hell I did. I’m happy in my own skin. I could be happy anywhere if I was with the person I loved. But it’s a moot point anyway.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t love me. And I don’t pity you for the way you live as much as you pity yourself.”
“Hey, that’s not fair.”
“Nothin’ ever is. Good night, Jack.”
She jerked the covers so tightly around herself he only saw a lump on the other side of the bed.