"Man. You just can't catch a break, can you?"
Actually she did catch a small break.
Another storm was rushing toward the city, so to avoid having to drive in a blizzard Rachel made her excuses and left her parents' house early.
Not nearly early enough, though.
She flipped on the rental car radio and tuned it to a soft rock station. The windshield wipers slapped against the glass, keeping time with the rhythm of the song. Nearly hypnotized, Rachel started talking to herself, more to stay alert than anything else.
"A podiatrist. This is the dream doctor Mom wants me to hook up with?" Okay, he was a perfectly nice man and not too bad looking in that "probably has back hair" kind of way. But could the man be more boring?
"Feet. That's all he talked about all night-feet." Rachel was willing to admit that in the grand scheme of things, feet were a fairly important body part.
After all, they made walking a lot easier. But she now knew way more than she'd ever wanted to know about corns, blisters, calluses and warts.
"That's it, Mom," she swore and slapped one hand against the steering wheel. "No more fix-ups. I absolutely refuse."
Her cell phone rang and she reached one handed into her purse, on the passenger seat. Keeping her eyes on the road, she didn't even look at the screen, just opened the phone and said, "Hello?"
"Rachel."
Chills swept up and down her spine, ran along her arms, across her knuckles and back up to swirl in a happy little clog dance in the middle of her chest. God, would the sound of his voice always have that effect on her? "Hello, Shane."
He smiled at the sound of her voice, even though it was less than welcoming.
Ever since leaving his parents' house, Shane'd been thinking about Rachel. Hell, he hadn't been able to get his mind off of her all week. Every time he passed her empty desk, he was reminded again of what an idiot he was.
The nights were the worst, though. He glanced around his apartment and found no pleasure in the stark, designer furnishings. White couches, hardwood floors and a lot of glass and chrome, much like the offices at The Buzz. His home had all the warmth of a dentist's office. And, at the moment, about the same appeal.
He kept remembering being at Rachel's place. A small, cozy place that she'd made warm and friendly. He could see her, all curled up in one corner of the couch, her blond hair lying loose in soft waves. He heard her laughter and remembered the passion in her eyes.
He couldn't stop thinking about carrying her into her bedroom and how she'd looked in the pale glow of the streetlight shining through the window. He couldn't seem to sleep without tasting her again, reaching for her, like a blind man fumbling for a life rope he knows is there, but can't find.
During the last week, he'd been forced to admit to himself just how important Rachel really was to him. And the question Gannon had asked him a couple of weeks ago kept replaying over and over again in his mind.
Do you love Rachel? He'd spent so many years avoiding that particular word that now a part of him recoiled even at the thought of it. But the more he missed Rachel, the more he was forced to acknowledge that maybe love had sneaked up on him.
Maybe.
But how was a man supposed to know?
The only way he could think of was to get Rachel to come back to work at The Buzz, so that they could spend more time together. And then maybe what he was feeling would start to make sense to him.
He walked across the living room of his spacious apartment overlooking Central Park and stopped opposite the terrace doors. Behind him, a fire roared in the hearth, in front of him, a storm was blowing in off the Atlantic, threatening to shut the city down this time.
And he was oblivious to everything but the woman on the other end of the line.
He held the phone to his ear in a white-knuckled grip and asked, "Is this a bad time, Rachel?"
"Actually … "
He'd only said that to be polite, so he spoke up fast. Couldn't risk her hanging up on him. He figured it was best if he went straight to the point. "Rachel, you've gotta come back to work."
"What?"
"I mean it. The place is falling apart, nothing's getting done."
What he didn't say was that it wasn't just work that concerned him. The real problem was him. He couldn't think anymore. Without seeing Rachel every damn day, it was like part of his life-the most important part-was gone.
"Not my problem anymore."
He slapped one hand on the icy glass of the French doors and tried to keep his voice calm, steady, without betraying any of the panic he was beginning to feel.
It wasn't easy. "Damn it, Rachel, without you there, nothing works right.
Nothing is what it should be. I need you, Rachel."
For some reason, something his father had said to him just a couple of weeks ago came flying back into his brain. Winning doesn't mean a damn thing if you've got nothing to show for it but the victory.
The old man was right, he thought. Without Rachel to share things with, the victory he'd won over his brothers and sister was an empty one.
There was a long pause where all he heard was a radio playing softly. He stared out at the swirling snow and noted the lamps and the blazing fire behind him reflected in the glass. He waited what seemed like forever for her answer and when it finally came, it wasn't what he wanted to hear.
"You don't need me, Shane," she said, her voice sounding sad and weary. "I really wish you did. But what you need is a good admin. There are plenty of them in New York. Find one."
"Rachel, wait-"
"Goodbye, Shane."
Chapter 12
She wasn't coming back.
Shane scrubbed both hands across his face and blew out a shaky breath. He looked around his office and tried to find the excitement, the old sense of pride being here used to give him. But there was nothing.
Nothing at all.
The work went on.
The world went on.
But nothing was the same.
Rachel was gone.
And he didn't know how to fix it.
When the phone rang, he almost ignored it. God knew he was in no mood to talk to anyone. But the shrill rings sliced into his head, accentuating the headache already pounding behind his eyes. So he grabbed it and snarled a greeting.
"Well, Merry Christmas to you, too," a familiar female voice said.
"Fin." He sighed, plopped down into his desk chair and spun around so that he was facing the windows and the cold, dark world beyond the glass. Outside, the sky was gray and heavy. New York had been getting quite the winter this year and it looked as if it was going to keep right on snowing through Christmas.
Christmas. Only about ten days away and he still didn't have any shopping done.
Another example of just how much he missed Rachel. She'd have made damn sure he got out to the stores.
Pitiful, he thought. He couldn't even Christmas shop without Rachel in his life.
Just pitiful.
"So," he said, "you coming home for Christmas?"
"I don't think so," Fin answered. "I sort of want to start our own traditions this year. But I'll definitely be there for the New Year's party."
Disappointment flared briefly to life inside him. He hadn't realized how much he'd been looking forward to seeing his sister again.
Shaking his head, he forced a smile into his voice and asked, "So how's life in the Wild, Wild West?"
Fin laughed again and Shane saw her in his mind. His twin. His best friend. Like a younger version of their mother, Fin was short and slender with auburn hair, green eyes and a few gold freckles across her nose. Her smile could light up a room and he was grateful that lately, his twin had had so much to smile about.
Fin might be living on a ranch in Colorado these days, but clearly their connection was still strong. She'd chosen just the right time to call him.
"You really need to get out of Manhattan more often, Shane," she said, still chuckling. "You know, we really don't have gunfights in the center of town and desperadoes hardly ever hold up the stagecoach anymore."
"Cute," he said, nodding, "and the ranch was a great place to visit but I think the West Village is about as west as I really want to go."
His sister sighed a little. "I know you're not the outdoorsy type, Shane, but I know you enjoyed yourself."
The Silver Moon ranch, just outside Colorado Springs, was mainly a cattle ranch, but according to Fin, her new husband ran quite a few horses, too. Enough to make her happy anyway.
And it wasn't as if his city born and bred sister was roughing it. She and her husband, Travis Clayton, lived in a huge, two-story log home, surrounded by tall pines and open spaces. Shane had seen for himself how happy she was there. And that was good enough for him.