Page 44 of Two of a Kind
Her mother made a sound of protest. “Bullshit. I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, you know.”
The turnip truck? Every now and then, her mother’s blue-collar, wrong-side-of-the-tracks origins showed through the polished veneer she had worked so many years to perfect. In any event, Kayla had no wish to discuss Spencer or whatever this bizarre connection was between them. Indulging in self-pity and kicking her own ass for being stupid was something best done alone.
“Let it go, Mom.” Hadn’t she just said those same words to Spencer only a short time ago? Maybe she should take her own advice.
“Let it go? I saw the way he looked at you.”
How exactly had he looked at her? Then she realized it didn’t matter. Her mother would see whatever she wanted to see, namely dollar signs.
“He’s engaged.”
“So?” Patricia laughed. “Do you honestly believe thatmeanssomething? You of all people should know men like that don’t marry for something as trite as love. They marry to increase their wealth, power, and influence.”
And there it was, the confirmation she hadn’t really wanted to hear.
Kayla clamped her lips together and headed for the kitchen. Her mother wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know, but some part of her—some tiny, stupid part—hoped that maybe sometimes love did play a part. That maybe sometimes love was just as important, if not more so, than the bottom line.
“Don’t walk away from me. This is a golden opportunity, Kayla Rose. He can give you everything you ever wanted.”
Kayla poured herself a glass of water from the tap, then used it to wash down a couple of over-the-counter migraine tablets.
No, she silently countered.Not everything.
Aloud, she said, “I’m not discussing this with you anymore. I’m going to bed. And if you even think about continuing this conversation in the morning, you can find yourself another place to stay until you and Charles work things out. Goodnight, Mom.”
Kayla left her mother gaping in disbelief, shutting the door to her bedroom behind her. She slipped her phone in the dock and tapped a few keys, letting the stream of soft classic rock fill the room. Feeling both mentally and physically exhausted, Kayla stripped off her clothes, took a quick shower, and then slid between the cool, welcoming sheets. Naturally, her mind went right back to Spencer Dumas, just as it had every other night since her return.
Why had he come back? Had it really been just to apologize? Or had he been hoping to convince her to be his dirty little secret on the side?
Despite what she had told him about drawing a line, shehadthought about it. Would it be so bad, being his lover? She would get to enjoy his mad skills behind closed doors. And beyond the bedroom, she would probably want for nothing. In-between trysts, she could continue to live her life the way she wanted, alone and without apology, out of the spotlight and without commitments.
Then, why was she so willing to walk away?
There was a time when something like that would have appealed to her, but that was before Spencer Dumas and his inexplicable ability to flip every one of her switches. Before her heart got involved—totally without her permission and against her better judgment.
She blamed him. If he had just left things alone, she could have continued to believe it was nothing more than a vacation fling. Something briefly possible in a fantasyland like Sate, yet impossible and unsustainable in the real world.
But no. He just had to cross those boundaries. He had to come toherhouse and lick ice cream offherspoon. Meet her goddamnmother. And, if that wasn’t enough, drive to some romantic scenic overlook and do something as incredibly sweet and commonplace as buying ice cream for them to share.
He wasn’t supposed to be romantic, or sweet, or care enough to find her. He wasn’t supposed to plant seeds in her psyche that suggested she was something more than a quick hook-up.
How was she supposed to keep her heart from getting involved when he did stuff like that?
Her inner diva, tired of the pity party, had had enough.Stop kidding yourself,it said. He doesn’t care about you. His ego can’t handle that you told him no. You are what you have always been—someone to play with on the side, not to have standing beside him. Jake Callaghan knew it. So did Ian. You thought they cared, and look what happened. They showed you the door the moment someone they consideredworthycame along.
I am worthy, a much smaller, quieter voice said.
Yes, you are, her inner diva agreed.Which is why you’re better off alone instead of looking to a man for your happiness. You can’t depend on anyone except yourself, you know that. Shake it off, shakehimoff, and move on.
Her last thought before sleep overtook her:tomorrow has to be better. Doesn’t it?
