Conflicted (Everlasting Love)(27)
Rio was right. Jesse was right. Somewhere, somehow, things had gone so terribly wrong. But she could still remember the day everything had first been set right.
Things have always come easy to me—some say I’ve been blessed while others claim I’ve lived a charmed life. In some ways, I guess they’re right. Everything I’ve ever wanted, I’ve gotten—either from my parents or through my own sheer, stubborn determination. There’s never been an obstacle I couldn’t go over or around, never been one that I couldn’t knock down.
Until Jesse. After Mama’s death, I expected things to change for us, expected our relationship to be different. It was different, all right. While my role remained the same—I still sought out Jesse at every opportunity—his role had changed. Suddenly he wanted nothing to do with me—the casual hugs disappeared, as did the late-night chats in the stables and the smiles that lit me up from the inside.
Oh, he stuck by me through Mama’s funeral, let me lean on him, let me take comfort and strength from him. But by the time I left for school—a few days after Mama’s funeral—he was nowhere to be seen. I couldn’t even find him to say goodbye.
This pattern continued for the next two and a half years—as I finished my sophomore, junior and senior years in college. When I went home on school vacations, I rarely saw him—he always managed to be somewhere other than where I expected him to be. Somewhere away from me. That first year after Mama died was probably the worst of my life—not only had I lost my mother, but I’d lost my best friend as well. And I didn’t even know why.
As the months passed, I spent hours analyzing my last moments alone with Jesse. Spent hours wondering what I’d done wrong. Had I been too needy? Too inexperienced? Too forward? Too desperate? Too what? The questions haunted me, coloring my experiences with other men.
Not that I wanted another man. Jesse had been the only man I’d ever noticed from the time I was sixteen, and nothing had changed, despite his obvious discouragement. But I was determined. His rejection was merely one more challenge, one more obstacle on the road my life was supposed to follow. And as soon as I figured out what I had done to turn him away, I could fix it. Fix me. Until he couldn’t help but see me, want me, need me as much as I wanted and needed him.
Big John brought me home the day after my college graduation—he was the only one who came to the ceremony, as Jesse sent a very polite note declining my invitation to attend. A note that I ripped to pieces as I stormed around my one-bedroom apartment.
Daddy wanted to send me to Europe for a month as a graduation present—a present I declined. I’d already been away from the Triple H for far too long and I was desperate to be back. Desperate to work with the horses again and desperate to see Jesse, though I was deathly afraid he didn’t feel the same way about me.
But I was twenty-two, optimistic and reasonably attractive—I was what you might call a late-bloomer. I’d finally grown into my long limbs and big feet, had finally developed the confidence to wear my bright-red hair with pride rather than apology. More than that, I was determined. I’d never given up on anything I’d wanted in my whole life and I wasn’t about to start now—not with Jesse, who was more important to me than anyone on earth.
So I plotted and planned, using the time that Jesse was at races as a chance to get myself ready for the battle to come. It was my last stand, my final attack, and I refused to even imagine what life would be like if it didn’t work.
DESIREE STEPPED BACK and surveyed the apartment, excitement and nervousness warring within her as she put her plan into action. The changes she’d made to Jesse’s place were subtle but important. The lights were dimmed—she’d had to change the bulbs to get the desired effect—and her homemade Alfredo sauce simmered in the kitchen, filling the apartment with the tantalizing smells of garlic and cream. The salad was tossed, the pasta boiling and dessert was in the fridge, where a couple of bottles of truly excellent Chianti waited.
Music played in the background—Van Morrison crooning about his brown-eyed girl. Desiree had set the table for two, using dishes and a tablecloth she’d bought in college. Though the urge had been strong to decorate with flowers and candles, she’d fought against it. They were obvious, too obvious when she was hoping to sneak up on his blind side.
She smiled with satisfaction as she caught sight of herself in the mirror on the far wall. While she’d kept everything in the apartment understated, relaxed, she’d dressed with anything but subtlety in mind.
Her dress was red—bright, fire-engine red—as were the bra and panties beneath it. And while it had long sleeves and a modest neckline, it clung lovingly to her every curve. Her shoes were stilettos—impractical and sexy, they showed off her rider’s legs to great advantage.
She checked to make sure her hair and makeup were as close to perfection as she could get them. It was after eight o’clock and Jesse should be here any minute. He usually stopped working about this time every night, or at least took a break before heading back out. But if things went according to plan tonight, Jesse wouldn’t leave the apartment before morning. And neither would she.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs outside and panic crawled sickly through her stomach. This was it, her last chance. If he rejected her now…
Forcing any negative thoughts to the back of her mind, Desiree flew to the kitchen and stirred the sauce, trying desperately to look as normal as possible under the circumstances. As if it was normal for her to be cooking in Jesse’s house, dressed to the nines.