Under the Millionaire's Mistletoe(11)

The older man frowned at him. "Meaning, I know you've been seeing my daughter just as you know my company's in trouble."

"Dave … " What the hell was he supposed to say? He knew Dave Cameron was a proud man.

He lifted one hand in a bid for silence. "Whatever's between you and  Anna is your business. You're both adults. What I'm here to tell you is,  contrary to what everyone in town is thinking, I won't use my daughter  as a bargaining chip for business."

Scowling himself now, Sam took a deep breath. "And I wouldn't use her either."

Dave studied him for a long minute. "Then we understand each other?"

"I think so," Sam said, bristling a little under the man's close scrutiny.

"Fine, then. I'll wish you a good day and be on my way." Dave started  for the door, then stopped and looked back. "One more thing. You hurt my  little girl and we'll be having another talk."

The man was gone before Sam could respond. But then, what could he  possibly have said? He felt like a damn teenager after a dressing-down.  The hell of it was, he had the feeling he'd deserved it.                       
       
           



       



Christmas was just a few days away when Anna finally finished the mural  in Sam's home office. She could admit to herself that when she'd begun  this job, she'd actually considered giving him some ghastly painting. A  horrific view out an artificial window. But that idea hadn't lasted more  than a moment or two. Her own professionalism prevented her doing  anything less than her absolute best.

And now that she stood back to get the full effect of her work, she had to admit that she'd really outdone herself this time.

She was glad of it, too. Now every time Sam looked at this wall, he  would think of her. It was the perfect goodbye. Because she'd come to  the conclusion only the night before that what was between them had to  end. There was no future in it. And she was only hurting herself.  Falling for Sam Hale had been inevitable. But she wouldn't stay with  him, knowing what she did about how he really felt about her.

Sex between them was incredible. She knew he felt the same way. But  desire was a long way from any kind of real feeling. She'd been deluding  herself into thinking that something could come of this, when the truth  was, he would never allow himself to care for her because when it came  right down to it, he didn't trust her.

Well, she couldn't keep fooling herself. It was better to get out now,  while the pain was still livable. If she waited any longer, she knew the  loss of him would kill her.

Pasting a bright smile on her face, she closed up the last of her paint  jars, tucked them away in the carrier, then took a breath. Steadied as  much as she was going to be, she opened the office door and called out,  "Sam? I'm finished. You can see it now."

He looked up from the car he was bent over and smiled at her. Anna's heart jolted and she knew she would miss that smile of his.

"The big secret revealed, huh?" He wiped his hands on a towel, tossed it across the car fender and headed her way. "Can't wait."

She stepped back so he could enter and shifted her gaze to his face as  he saw the finished painting for the first time. His eyes widened and  his jaw dropped. He couldn't have had a more perfect reaction.

"That's incredible," he said, walking closer to it.

"The ocean's still wet, so don't touch," she warned.

"The ocean's always wet, babe."

"Very funny."

Still shaking his head, he leaned in closer to the wall. "That's really  amazing, Anna." He shot her a look over his shoulder. "I'm impressed."

"Thanks."

It had turned out well, she thought, studying her own work objectively. A  gracefully arched window, shadowed from an unseen sun, opened up to a  seascape that looked as vivid as life. Blue-gray sky, storm clouds on  the horizon. Waves crashing against rocks, sending spray so high that it  dotted the painted-on glass of the open window. A tumble of flowers and  vines spread across the window sill, dripping color and motion onto a  still life that made it seem all the more alive and real. "What's this?"

"Hmm?" She glanced to where he was pointing. With a shrug and a smile,  she admitted, "I was a little angry with you when I painted that part."

"Yeah, I can see that."

He grinned anyway, though, so Anna was glad she'd left in the snake with  Sam Hale's features peeping out from the vines on the windowsill.

"You," he said as he walked toward her with a familiar glint in his eyes, "are a very talented woman."

"Thank you," she answered, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

He pulled her into his arms, dipped his head to kiss her and then seemed to notice her hesitation. "What is it?"

She should tell him now, Anna thought. Tell him that whatever was  between them was over. But damn it, she wanted one more time in his  arms. One more glimpse of the magic before she turned her back on it  forever.

"Nothing," she said and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. "It's nothing."

Then he kissed her and she forgot everything but what he made her feel.



Her body blissfully humming with remnants of pleasure, Anna turned her  head on the pillow and looked at the man beside her. How had she come to  feel so much for him in such a short amount of time? And did that  really matter? The simple truth was, she loved him and every moment she  spent with him was only setting herself up for disaster and pain.                       
       
           



       

She had to end this while she still could.

"Sam," she said abruptly into the quiet, "this isn't going to work out."

He grinned, rolled to his side and slid one hand down the length of her  naked body, making her shiver even as new fires erupted inside.

"Seems to be working just fine."

"No," she insisted, rolling out from under his touch. If she didn't say  something now, she never would. Scrambling off the bed, she stood up and  reached for her clothes. "It's really not."

"What are you talking about?"

She had his attention now, she thought, looking down into beautiful blue eyes that were narrowed in suspicion.

"Just that we can't do this anymore," she blurted.

"Why the hell not?"

She tugged her shirt over her head and shook back her hair. "I can't  keep being with you when I know exactly what you really think of me."

He pushed off the bed and stood naked, facing her. He was  amazing-looking and Anna had to fight hard not to be distracted. "What?  What do you mean what I think of you?"

This was harder than she had expected it to be, but Anna kept going. She  told herself that pain now would save her misery later, so it was best  to just get this done so they could both move on with their lives. "I  mean," she told him, "Garret told me exactly what you said about me. Not  only do you think I'm after him for money, but that you consider me  flaky and immature and-why are you laughing?"

He shook his head, grabbed up his jeans and tugged them on. "Because this is so stupid."

"Oh, thanks very much."

"I didn't say you were stupid," he muttered, then spoke up more loudly.  "Why is arguing with women so frustrating? The flaky and immature thing?  That's not what I think of you. It's what I think of Garret. He refuses  to grow up and I'm starting to wonder if he's even capable of it."

Only slightly mollified, Anna said, "But you did think I was after your money."

He didn't deny it. What would be the point? They both knew the truth.  After a second or two, he said, "Okay, yeah. I did. Why the hell else  would a woman like you be dating Garret?"

"You really believe I could do something like that? Use someone? Barter myself?"

He scowled and folded his arms over the chest she'd been draped across  only moments ago. "I don't have to remind you that your father's company  is failing-or that I've got more than enough money to save it."

"No," she assured him haughtily, "you really don't."

"Stop being so damn insulted. You wouldn't have been the first woman to use sex to get what you wanted."

She fisted her hands at her hips. "And is that what I'm doing now? With you?"

He glared at her. "How the hell am I supposed to know? You tell me."

Stung to the heart of her, Anna's unshed tears nearly blinded her. She  stepped into her shoes and lifted her chin to match him glare for glare.  "If you really do think so little of me, then I was wrong about you  from the beginning."

He didn't say a word, just stood there, watching her. With every pulse  beat, another tiny piece of Anna's heart broke away and shattered.  Gathering up what dignity she had left, she said quietly, "I never want  to see you again. You can mail me a check for my work."