“Because she frog-marched you out of her office the first time she met you.” Jackson’s expressionless tone and features masked his reaction to what Darius had thought was a little-known incident.
His skin warmed. “Quincy has a big mouth.”
“He also has a point. Women usually try to hold on to you. Peyton literally threw you out.” Jackson laughed at his own joke.
“I’m glad I can amuse you.”
Jackson sobered. “Peyton is intelligent, attractive, kind, and employed. Why aren’t you interested in her?”
“She’s not interested in me, either, so you might was well stop trying to get us together.”
Darius strode out of Jackson’s office door and set a course for his cubicle. He was running away, this time from Jackson’s comments and questions. What good would they do? He’d spent so much time running and hiding from his emotions, he didn’t think he could feel anymore. He was like the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz, searching for a heart.
CHAPTER 6
Peyton stared at her ringing cell phone Monday morning. It was Bruce. Again. He’d called twice today. Each time, he’d left the same message: Peyton, it’s Bruce. Call me.
But she hadn’t. She knew what he wanted. Undoubtedly, her mother had called him to invite him to spend Christmas in Aruba with the Harris family. In turn, Bruce wanted to know why Peyton hadn’t extended the invitation to him first. Imagining their pending conversation was giving her a headache.
Her cell phone finally stopped ringing, but her relief was short-lived. Bruce didn’t leave a message this time, which meant he’d run out of patience—and she’d run out of time.
Peyton checked her wristwatch. It was just after ten o’clock in the morning. Her next appointment wasn’t for another four hours, when Darius would arrive to interview her for his article on Dr. Hartford’s retirement.
No more excuses, Peyton. Return Bruce’s call.
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and touched the CALL button next to Bruce’s number. He answered on the second ring.
“Where have you been? I’ve called you three times.” He barked his greeting.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been in classes.” Her initial impulse was to snap back at him. Why hadn’t she?
“Never mind.” He exhaled a short, irritated breath. In the background, Bruce’s keyboard clacked in time with his hunt-and-peck rhythm. “Irene told me she and Carlson plan to spend Christmas in Aruba, and they want us to join them. Why did I have to hear this from Irene? You should have told me. I felt like a fool.”
“I’m sorry.” Again she bit her tongue even as she fantasized about wrapping his around his throat.
Peyton rotated her chair to face the window. In the distance, the little pond the university community called Wishing Lake reflected the late-morning sun. The kidney-shaped body of water lay near the edge of the campus. A wandering cement walkway framed the lake. In the center, a fountain kept the water in constant motion.
Wishing Lake . . . How many coins would it take to wish away my engagement?
“Don’t do it again. You know I hate being caught off guard. Hold on.” Bruce moved his telephone receiver away from his mouth. Still Peyton heard him tell his secretary, Leila, to make fifteen copies of the report he’d just approved. His voice was pleasant when he spoke to Leila. As pleasant as he’d been with Peyton before he’d proposed. Peyton glanced at her naked ring finger. Since leaving New York, she’d kept the four-carat, princess-cut diamond ring in its box in her suitcase.
Bruce returned to the line. “All right. Where were we? I told Irene we’d join them in Aruba.”
Peyton grew cold, as though the autumn temperature had seeped into her skin. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”
“Hold on.” Bruce called to Leila again, asking her to send a fax. His request was as sweet as sugar. “Of course we’re going to Aruba with Irene and Carlson. It’s what they want.”
What about what I want? When was the last time someone had respected my wishes?
Her knitted brow cleared with realization. Five months ago. That was when Darius had agreed not to do an article about her for the Monitor. She’d been so afraid her parents and Bruce would come across the interview on the Internet and learn that Trinity Falls University wasn’t a temporary aberration in her otherwise dutiful life. At first, the reporter had tried to pressure her into granting him an interview. But he’d eventually accepted her decision. He’d even bought her a dozen yellow roses to apologize for being a jerk. The memory made her smile.
“Did you hear me?” Bruce’s sharp question burst Peyton’s warm bubble.
“Excuse me?”
Another sigh. “I said we leave the morning of December thirteenth. Irene and I will give you the rest of the itinerary while you’re in New York for Thanksgiving.”
Peyton’s beautiful view of vibrant autumn leaves and sunlight bouncing like diamonds on the surface of Wishing Lake darkened to a vision of a lifetime spent with other people ordering her around. “I can’t leave December thirteenth. That’s the day of the university’s winter commencement.”