There would be no
fun.
Luke pushed away from the bar and headed for the front doors of the museum, calling his town car driver on the way. Damned if he had any idea what to say to Polly, but he couldn’t leave things as they were. Minutes later, the car was heading toward Rainsville and Wild Child.
His heart beat faster the closer he got to Polly. He almost ran up the stairs to her apartment, knocking once before the locks clicked.
Then she was opening the door, all sweet and rumpled in a T-shirt and pajama pants with her hair damp and curly—just the way he liked it—and he fought the urge to haul her into his arms, right where she belonged. He wanted to cover her mouth with his, to drink in the taste of sugar and peaches, to feel her warm body pressing against his chest.
Then he wanted to take her home and strip off her clothes so he could—
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice chilly.
“To see you.” He took a breath, willing his heartbeat to slow. “And to apologize.”
She studied him for a moment, then stepped aside so he could enter. He caught the scent of her—oranges and cloves, a spicy sweetness that shot straight to his blood. His fingers flexed with the urge to touch her.
“All right, then.” She eyed him warily. “I’m listening.”
“I . . . I treated you badly,” he said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what . . . I didn’t mean to ignore you.”
“You did more than just ignore me,” Polly replied stiffly. “You belittled me.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Your apology is not going well.”
Luke expelled his breath in a frustrated sigh, hating the tangle of emotions he didn’t know what to do with. He dragged his hands down his face and rubbed his jaw.
“I was an asshole,” he admitted. “I wasn’t used to seeing you look like that, and then when you fit right into the party I didn’t know how to handle it.”
Disappointment flashed in her expression.
“You didn’t think I’d
fit in
there, did you?” she asked. “You thought I’d be totally out of place among your fancy crowd and that you could pass me off as cute little Polly from the bakery like I was your freaking mascot or something.”
“No, I—”
“Yes, that’s what you thought.” She marched over to poke him in the chest. “And here I thought you’d asked me to go with you because we always have a good time together. I thought it would be
fun
to be part of your world for a few hours. And I got all dressed up for you, dammit. I was waxed, plucked, and exfoliated for
you
! But apparently China and your new factory in Switzerland, not to mention the Jessica Rabbit you were canoodling with, were all much more important than a hippie girl who thought she could have one night of a fairytale.”
Dammit, he’d known she believed in fairytales, just as he knew he couldn’t give her one. He lived in a world of hard work, ambition, and an iron-clad intent to protect Sugar Rush. A world of
no promises.
What would happen if he changed? He’d spent so much of his life being like this that he didn’t know if he was even capable of change. He was old and hardened. Burned. And suddenly scared that he couldn’t offer Polly everything she deserved.
He stared at her, shoving his hands into his pockets to prevent himself from touching her. But he drank in the sight of her flushed, pale skin, her thick-lashed eyes, her curly hair that somehow escaped whatever knot or ponytail she used to contain it, the way her T-shirt molded to the curves of her breasts and hips . . .
“Look, maybe it’s best if we end this right here and now,” Polly said. “There’s always been a deadline, right? This must be it.”
“Deadline?” He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“This.” She gestured between them. “Our affair has a deadline.”
Irritation speared through him. “Who said it has a deadline?”
“You did.”
“I never said that.”
“You said your relationships have
parameters and deadlines
,” she snapped.
“I meant my relationships with other women,” Luke retorted. “Not with
you.
”
Silence fell, except for the sound of their breath.
Polly bit her lip, her gaze wary. “So what does that mean?”
“It means you’ve got me all screwed up.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re in my head all the fucking time. I’m sitting in the boardroom looking at the clock and wondering if I can leave work early to come see you. I never leave work early, dammit.
Ever.
I’d go to a dozen ridiculous, overcrowded clubs and music festivals, as long as I could go with you. And when I saw you looking like you’d stepped out of the pages of a magazine and then talking and dancing like you
belonged
there, it hit me like a ton of bricks.”
“What did?”
He turned to face her, feeling as if his chest were about to crack with all the emotions he was trying to contain.
“That you do belong there,” he snapped. “You belong with me. Whether we’re at a museum dinner or in a tent, you belong with me and
to me
. There’s no fucking deadline, Peach. And the only parameter is that you forgive me for treating you like you were nothing. Because the exact opposite is the truth. You’re
everything.
”
She stared at him, her hand going to her chest. “If I’m everything, then how could you not even tell me you’re going to Switzerland on Monday?”
“I don’t know.” Luke paced back across the living room. “The plans were made months ago, and travel is just part of business for me, so I didn’t think it was a big deal. I’m just going to work. I didn’t think you’d care.”
“Of course I care,” Polly said in exasperation. “I care about you too much. Don’t you know that by now? I’ve loved every minute . . . well,
almost
every minute we’ve spent together. And I couldn’t be more grateful for your help with Wild Child. But I know we both made it clear from the beginning that this was supposed to be casual and fun, and I don’t think I can do that anymore.”
Tension gripped him at the resigned note in her voice. He’d fixed his family’s whole damned company, for God’s sake. Surely he could fix whatever had gone wrong between him and Polly. He just had to prove he’d give her anything she wanted. He’d give her the whole goddamned world, if that’s what it took.
“I can’t spend our time together
wondering
,” Polly continued, “if one day you’ll decide there’s a deadline after all.”
Inspiration hit him like a lightning bolt. He turned back to her.
“Come with me,” he said.
“What?”
“To Switzerland.” He spread his arms out, relief flooding him as he realized he was making her an offer she couldn’t refuse. “You told me you’d wanted to travel, right? So come with me. Yeah, I have to work, but I can take the time to show you around, and we could take a couple of days and go to Paris. I know you’ve always wanted to go there, and there’s a train that leaves from—”
“Luke.” Polly’s voice sliced through his speech with quiet determination.
He stopped. “What?”
She approached him. For the first time ever he couldn’t read her expression, couldn’t see past the invisible veil that had descended over her eyes.
“Do you remember when I told you I’d once wanted to go to a pastry school in Paris?” she asked.
He nodded, sudden apprehension clouding his relief.
“The day after my birthday, I found out there’s a special pastry-making course being offered in Paris,” Polly continued. “It’s being taught by several renowned chefs, including Pierre Lacroix. I applied for the course on kind of a whim, not thinking I stood a chance, but I got an email a few days ago telling me I’d been accepted. Part of the reason was that they liked the innovation I showed in the creation of the Declairs.”
Luke heard what she’d said but for a second, he couldn’t process it.
“The course starts in September.” A faint wariness appeared in her eyes. “It’s a six-month series of classes followed by a three-month internship.”
“That’s . . .” He swallowed past the tightness in his throat. He should congratulate her, but he couldn’t get the words out.
“That’s great,” he finally said. “So what . . . what did you tell them?”
“Nothing yet. I wanted to tell you first. I have until the end of the month to send in my response.”
“Who else knows?”
“Just Hannah.”
“And what did she say?”
“She thinks I should go.”
“You mean Hannah, the sister you yourself said was irresponsible?” Luke said, his voice tightening. “Now you’re taking advice from her?”
“She’s still my sister.” Polly’s expression flashed with irritation. “And I also said she was brave, so maybe her advice is worth taking.”
“And has she given you advice about what you would do with Wild Child?”
“No.” She stepped away from him and bent to straighten the books on the coffee table. “She did say she couldn’t stay and run the bakery, though, so I don’t see how I could leave.”
“Of course you can’t leave.” The statement came out harsher than he’d intended.
Polly looked up. “What?”
“Things are just starting to take off for you.” Luke’s chest was knotting like an old fishing line. “A responsible business owner doesn’t walk out on her business right when it’s finally turning a profit.”
“I didn’t say I was walking out on it,” she said. “I wouldn’t shut the whole thing down, especially now.”
“But you’d abandon it?”
“No! I’d never abandon Wild Child. You know that. I’d hire a manager and try to oversee things from afar.”
“Yeah, that works,” he snapped. “What do you think would have happened to Sugar Rush if I’d left it to someone else and tried running it from Shanghai? You think it would be the company that it is now?”
“No, but we’re talking about two totally different businesses.”
“Business is business,” Luke replied. “And a responsible business owner doesn’t jump ship just to run off and pursue a pipe dream.”
Regret speared through him the instant the words flew out of his mouth. Polly stared at him, her eyes widening with shock and dawning anger.
“I didn’t say I’d decided to go,” she said tightly. “But it’s nice to know you always thought of my going to school in Paris as a silly
pipe dream
.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“That’s what you said.” She glared at him, her jaw hardening. “And I wanted to talk to you about it because I was hoping you might be able to give me some perspective on whether or not it’s something that would be worthwhile and
doable
. But I can see you already have an opinion, so never mind.”
“Why would I ever think that your running off to Paris is worthwhile?” Luke retorted, and now the knots in his chest were starting to hurt and burn with fear.
Christ, I could lose her for good.
“After all the work we’ve put into Wild Child, and the results you’re finally seeing, what makes you think taking a pastry course in Paris would be any help?”
“Because it’s a once in a lifetime chance.” Polly fisted her hands on her hips. “I’d be learning from famous chefs. You don’t think studying with them would improve my expertise and reputation?”
Of course it would.
It would also mean she was on the other side of the damned Atlantic Ocean.
“Improve your reputation at what expense?” he asked. “You leave Wild Child for Paris, and what happens to your business? What about quality control and staying on course? What about following through with your business plan? What about . . .”
Us?
Again the word stuck in his throat. He couldn’t voice it because he knew exactly what her response would be. After all, he’d been the one to tell her he couldn’t give her anything long-lasting. He couldn’t make promises to her. So why the hell wouldn’t she think it was okay to head off to Paris and leave him behind? To have a life without him?
Shit.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He had no idea how it was supposed to happen, or even what
it
was, but Polly heading off to live in Paris while he stayed here and immersed himself again in the cold business of Sugar Rush without her warm presence to give him everything he didn’t have . . .
No. That wasn’t
it
at all.
He took a breath and tried to think logically, but all he could see was a Polly-shaped hole in his life that would never be filled by another woman. Ever.
And yet he couldn’t ask her to stay. Because despite his remark about Paris being a pipe dream, he knew what this kind of opportunity meant to her. He knew what it would mean for her career, for her
life.
He’d once had the same kind of dream about one day making it to the big leagues, and though it was far too late for him, her dream—the one she’d put on hold four years ago—was now right in front of her. Waiting.
His shoulders felt tense enough to break.
“If that’s what you want to do, then go ahead,” he said, stepping back toward the door. “Good luck.”
She turned, the color draining from her face. “That’s it? Good luck and goodbye?”
“What else do you want? We both knew this would end soon. Hell, it sounded like you were ready to end it ten minutes ago because I didn’t tell you about Switzerland.”
“Oh, you mean your three-week long business trip?” Polly asked sharply. “Is that the Switzerland you’re talking about? It’s okay for you to leave like that but it’s not okay for me to want the same thing?”
“Three weeks is not almost a year,” Luke said, his voice unnaturally cold and tight to his ears. “But considering the number of times you’ve bailed on me, it comes as no surprise that you’d leave your business without warning.”
She stared at him. Jesus God, he hoped that glint in her eyes was a trick of the light and not tears. It took everything he had to take another step toward the door instead of hauling her into his arms and begging her to stay.
Because what if she did stay? Then he’d hate himself for having taken Paris away from her.
“I wanted your opinion as a friend,” she said. “As the man who helped me learn how to run a business efficiently and well. And frankly, if you’d given me a good reason to stay, I might have listened. But I want to go. I would have been a fool to turn down your help with Wild Child, and even though there’s a lot to be scared of, I’d be a bigger fool to turn down a chance like this.”