Page 115 of Merging Wright

Quickly, I dismiss the thought.

“I needed a break.” The admission is difficult to say. I’ve never walked away from a project.

“No, I mean you quit Impact.”

I close my eyes. Of course. His top account executive. The one he’s been over and under and entered. “I couldn’t keep working for you.”

“But you’re here.” He steps closer to me.

I take a step back, bumping into the dining table behind me. “I’m here for Wrightwood.”

Mach’s head turns so quickly, it’s as if I slapped him. With his cheek toward me, he stares out the front window while his hands come to his hips. “Right. Wrightwood.” His tone is rough and bitter.

“I shouldn’t have run away like that, Mr. Wright.” I straighten, grip the hem of my shirt and pull it tight, steeling myself to face him. “But it won’t happen again. I finish what I start.”

“So, our marriage?” Mach turns back to me.

“Camilla told me about Frank.”

“I don’t care about fucking Frank.” His voice rises in frustration, and he scratches under his chin. A fact I’ve learned he does when he’s trying to calm down.

“Our marriage can end as soon as we restore the town. If we push, three weeks will be over in a flash and then you can go back to how life used to be.”

Mach narrows his eyes. His beautiful eyes. “Jane.”

“We can keep up the ruse a few more weeks. It was only a charade. We both know how to play the game.”

“Do we?” He steps closer to me, and I’m trapped by the table at my back. “What I know is I was ready to chase my wife. To apologize to her, maybe even grovel a little bit. And then I found she quit her job and disappeared.” His voice rises once more. “She quit me.”

“Even the best employees are—”

“Stop talking.” The directive reminds me of the thousands of times I’ve said the same thing to him. The moments I needed him to cool down so the rising flame inside me could be doused. Sometimes that flame was annoyance. Other times arousal. The tension between us could be so thick at times I’d need a moment to ring out my panties. Deep breaths. Cold water on my face. Frantic orgasms alone at night.

I’m alone again.

And Mach is breathing heavy like a bull about to charge the red cape.

“You were not just my employee. You are not some charade. You are—” He swallows hard, not having an explanation for who I really am to him.

You are a convenient arrangement.

He exhales, reaching for the hair at the side of my face. I close my eyes, struggling with his nearness, with the sharp scent of man and mountains on him. He asks, “Was it only about a partnership?”

My eyes open, but I quickly look away from him. “I already told you it wasn’t.”

“Jane,” he whispers, almost pleading. “Talk to me.”

“You know, Mr. Wright, the funny thing is I would have come here if you simply asked. Even without tossing in the damn partnership, I would have said yes.” Without the partnership. Without a proposal. I would have said yes to him because my heart is weak for him.

Tears prickle my eyes once again. Dammit. I will not cry in front of this man. For all the years of strength I’ve had to keep my emotions tight and locked inside me, I don’t want to break now. But the struggle is real.

“If you had only told me the truth,” I whisper as Mach’s hand settles on my neck.

Five facts. Number one. I hate liars and cheaters.

In some ways, I was no better than Mach, though. I’d lied to the town. We married, but it wasn’t real. It was a means to an end. I did wrong to do right by Wrightwood.

And I did it for Mach, and his mother, his brother, and sweet Willow.