Kara Lennox - One Stubborn Texan

“While you were in the shower I programmed all three of my numbers-home, office and cell-into your phone.” He handed her the phone, which she’d left on the sofa.

“Perfect. Walk me out?”

He’d like to walk her out, get into her car and go with her back to New York. “I’ve never been to New York,” he said. “I should go some time.”

She smiled. “I can guarantee you’ll have a place to stay.”

While Sydney threw her things in the BMW’s backseat, Russ opened the garage door-and was greeted with a camera flash.

A man strode into the garage and shoved a microphone into Russ’s face. “Russ Klein, how does it feel to be Texas’s newest millionaire?”

Russ just stood there, too stunned to say anything. In his driveway was one TV news van, several other vehicles and a half-dozen strangers with cameras, microphones and lights, all of them focused on him.

He glanced over his shoulder at Sydney, who stood next to her car with her hand over her mouth, doing a pretty good imitation of shock.

Russ finally found his voice. “I have no comment,” he said, “and please get off my property.” With that he retreated into the garage and pushed the button to close the garage door. He didn’t chance another look at Sydney until they were safely blocked from view.

She looked utterly befuddled.

“That didn’t take you long,” he said. “Did you call them from the phone in the bedroom while I was making breakfast?”

“Russ! I didn’t call anyone.”

“Well, I didn’t tell anyone, so that leaves you.”

“But I didn’t-”

“Or maybe you planned this days ago, before I ever agreed to sign the contract. Maybe you thought if word got out, my mother would already know about the money, so I would no longer have any reason not to accept the money and give you your cut.”

“I would never-”

“Is your father really near bankruptcy, or was that your last-ditch effort to appeal to my sympathy?” He knew he was being harsh, but the sense of betrayal he felt was overwhelming. He’d trusted Sydney. God help him, he’d fallen in love with her-or the woman he thought she was. But now he was beginning to see it was all a carefully orchestrated image designed to manipulate him where she wanted him to go.

“Do you really have any feelings for me?” he continued relentlessly. “Or was that all a lie, too? I notice you didn’t mention anything about wanting to continue our relationship until I’d agreed to accept the money. Why settle for a measly ten percent when you could have access to all of it, if you played your cards right?”

She wasn’t saying anything, he noticed. A moment ago she’d had denials ready to fling, but suddenly she’d gone quiet as a crypt. It was hard to tell, but her eyes looked suspiciously shiny as she eyed him, reminding him uncomfortably of a dog who’d been kicked and expected to be kicked again.

Without a word she turned back to her car, opened the passenger door and leaned inside, rummaging around in the backseat. What was she doing?

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

She straightened and handed him a sheaf of papers. “Here’s the contract. We can pretend you never signed it. You can tell the reporters they’ve made a mistake.”

“No, I gave my word and I never go back on a promise.” Unlike some people.

“Fine.” She ripped the contract in half, then into quarters, then once again, letting the pieces flutter to his garage floor like confetti. “I wouldn’t take this commission even if I were homeless and starving.” She marched around to the front of the car, still limping slightly, he couldn’t help noticing.

Now it was his turn to stare, speechless, as she climbed into the BMW and slammed the door. She started the engine, immediately filling the closed space with exhaust. He had to open the door or asphyxiate them both.

Suddenly he didn’t want to let her go. Why had she torn up the contract? It made no sense. Unless…

“Would you open the damn door?” she shouted through her open window.

He walked to the button and pushed it. The garage door roared open. The reporters had moved, but only as far as the street. They were still waiting for him like a pack of coyotes.

“Sydney, wait,” he called to her. “Maybe we need to talk.”

“You did enough talking for both of us,” she yelled out the window, backing out like a contender in the demolition derby. “You already have all the answers. Hope your self-righteousness keeps you warm at night.” Her window slid up and she hit the gas and flew down the driveway, gravel flying.

No, no, this wasn’t right. Was it some new game she was playing? Why had she torn up the contract? But he didn’t get the opportunity to find out, because she was heading down the driveway like a greased bullet. A couple of the media types tried to stop her, but they had to jump out of her way to avoid being run over because she wasn’t stopping for anything.

Russ was left standing in his garage with a ripped-up contract, staring after her, wondering who’d been driving the freight train that had just wrecked his life. He suspected it might be himself.

Sydney found her way to the main highway only by chance. She was so upset, so furious, she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t remember the twists and turns they’d taken last night to reach Russ’s house. And even if she’d remembered the way, her eyes were so full of tears she couldn’t read the street signs.

But instinct must have guided her, because she blundered onto Highway 350, which she knew would take her to Austin.

With one unfounded accusation, Russ had yanked off the wings she’d been soaring with, causing her to crash with a pain much worse than a sprained ankle. Had those days they spent together meant nothing to him? She’d have trusted him with her life and she had trusted him with feelings and secrets she’d never confessed to anyone.

Apparently he hadn’t felt the same about her, because he didn’t give it two seconds’ thought. He’d seen those cameras and immediately assumed the woman he’d held in his arms all night long was a greedy liar with no conscience.

She had no idea how the media had found out about the story, but it sure as hell hadn’t come from her.

She cried all the way to Austin, though she didn’t want to waste tears on someone who obviously thought so little of her, she couldn’t seem to stop. She’d been so happy. For the first time since her mother’s death she’d been hopeful about the future-her father’s and her own.

When she pulled into her aunt Carol’s covered parking space at her retirement villa, she used the visor mirror to try to repair the damage caused by her crying. But as soon as Aunt Carol opened the door to her apartment, she knew something was wrong.

“What in the world happened?” Carol said as she greeted Sydney with a warm hug that smelled of Cashmere Bouquet bath powder. The scent was comforting, almost maternal. Carol wore one of her signature silk pantsuits-she had them in every color under the sun-her makeup perfect, her bright red hair salon fresh.

“It’s a man, of course,” Sydney said. “What else?” Aunt Carol was twice divorced, so that was a sentiment she could relate to.

“Ooooh, men. It’s too bad we need them to procreate, otherwise I’d say let’s do away with the entire gender. Come in and tell me about it, sweetheart. I’ll fix you some hot tea and toast with marmalade.”

Sydney smiled. Carol had been offering her special brand of comfort for as long as Sydney could remember. Though they didn’t see each other more than once or twice a year, Aunt Carol, herself childless, had always made her only niece feel special.

“I really need to get to the airport,” Sydney said. “I’ve got a flight out at ten-thirty-something.”

“I’ll drive you,” Carol offered. “You can tell me about it on the way.”

Sydney didn’t really want to talk about this yet. It was too raw, like a freshly skinned knee. But Aunt Carol insisted, so she told the whole story, beginning to end.

“If you didn’t alert the media, who did?” Carol asked.

Sydney shook her head. “Unless some other investigator was following my tracks. You don’t suppose Dad…”

“No, I talked to him this morning. He doesn’t know anything.”

“He will-probably by the time I get back to New York he’ll have heard. And I’ll have to confess to him that I tore up the contract.”

Carol clicked her tongue. “You shouldn’t have done that. A million dollars could make up for a lot of heartbreak.” Carol would know, since both of her ex-husbands had left her pretty well-set.

“I couldn’t have Russ Klein believing I would sell him out like that!”

“Do you think your gesture did the job? Do you think he believes you didn’t sic the reporters on him?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t care. He could crawl back to me on hands and knees begging forgiveness, and I wouldn’t even consider it. Who wants a man who would jump to conclusions based on such flimsy evidence?”

“What else was he supposed to think?”

That stopped Sydney cold. “You’re taking his side?”

“Granted, he shouldn’t have accused you without giving you a chance to explain or plead your case, but-”

“I can’t believe you think he has a leg to stand on! He was horrid.”

“Men are horrid in general,” Carol agreed. “Anyone who claims women are the emotional ones have never seen a man jumping to conclusions and defending his reasons for doing so. But sooner or later he’s going to realize he made a mistake. Then you’ll know whether he has real character or not. If he can admit he was wrong, if he can apologize, if he can learn from his mistakes, he might be worth a second look.”

“Hmph,” Sydney sniffed. “Not in a million years. He had his chance. We had real potential and he blew it.”