Sleeping with the Boss (Anderson Brothers, #1)(31)
Yeah, that was the original plan and where he’d intended to stay until Michael got back, but he was done now. She didn’t need to worry about him lurking when she came in to clear her office, and he didn’t need to be hiding, either. It was better for both if he stayed away for a day or so. Even if it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do.
“No. I’m going home.”
Less than an hour later, Will wandered from room to room like a zombie. Hell, he pretty much was one. He ran his hand over the polished wood of the kitchen table and fought the urge to slam his fist into something.
Beth had wanted to live in the city and this house had been his compromise. It was a restored historic home in an upscale Long Island neighborhood that backed up to a small lake and gave him the nature and open space he sought with the proximity to Beth’s social scene she had demanded.
Like a sentimental fool, he bought this place before his first deployment and had imagined raising kids here. During that first tour of duty, he had it restored by an old college buddy who owned a remodeling company and then worked side by side with the contractor when he returned in order to complete the job before he was deployed the second time.
Beth had hated it. When he brought her here as a surprise, she made no effort to hide the fact that she would not live here. Her ugly words echoed in his head as if it had happened yesterday, instead of three years ago. For his remaining two and a half weeks in the country, she made him tour every overpriced, sleek, modern apartment in the city. Thank God he hadn’t put money down on one.
“Kung Fu Fighting” chimed from his phone. He pulled it from his back pocket and hit ignore. He didn’t need to talk to Chance right now. For a moment, his finger hovered over Claire’s contact in his recent calls list.
“Dammit!” he shouted. He needed to leave her alone. She’d trusted him. She’d been open and genuine with no artifice and he’d unwittingly hurt her.
He shoved his phone back into his pocket.
That was the key to the attraction, he realized. Beth was always worried about what people would think based on how she looked or what she had, so she cloaked herself in the trappings of success and status. Claire was never anyone but who she was. Genuine and giving.
And now she was gone.
He opened the cabinet above the refrigerator and pulled out the unopened bottle of scotch his now-ex future father-in-law had given him at the engagement party. Will hadn’t gotten shitfaced since he had returned to the States eight months ago and read in the paper that his fiancée had jilted him. After that, he had promised his brothers that he would never drink alone again. His promises used to mean something. But then, so did the words, “I love you,” until Beth had twisted them.
Will pulled the cap off the bottle. Eight months was long enough.
…
Claire rolled over and switched on her bedside lamp. There was no way she was going to be able to sleep, and that really pissed her off. She needed to escape from the jumble of mixed thoughts and feelings duking it out for dominance in her brain. At the moment, her desire to be with Will pummeled her common sense.
She stepped into her slippers, shuffled to her desk, and flicked the mouse to wake her computer. Maybe working on her itinerary would put her to sleep.
After a few minutes of staring blankly at the calendar while images of Will filled her head, she decided if she were going to agonize and obsesses over the guy, she might as well go all the way.
Pages of links to articles from local news sources, as well as tabloids, loaded simply from searching his name and city. Seeing his picture made her heart race faster. So tall and handsome, whether in a tux at an opera debut or in his fatigues for a military shot, William Anderson took her breath away.
And it made her ache all over. She had totally fallen for him and he’d only been using her. Her breath caught in her throat. She was so confused. Deep down, below the layers and layers of hurt and anger, she still believed they really had something special—that he cared for her.
The facts as she knew them and his explanation on the ride home had parried back and forth in her brain ever since he had dropped her off. And honestly, it was a dead heat. She got why she would be a suspect, for sure.
But Will had said he believed her innocent, even in the face of all the strange coincidences and circumstantial evidence.
She scrolled down and read the name she’d seen in several articles and photo captions out loud. “Bethanne Carmichael.”
Then she clicked on the next article. Local Socialite to Marry War Hero. Will and Beth made a fantastic couple. Both perfect as they smiled at her from her screen.
Skimming through the articles, it seemed like they were everywhere all the time: premieres, restaurants, parties, charity events, even a dedication at the zoo. She flicked through the entries, but stopped short at the bottom of the third page of links. Carmichael-Anderson Wedding Canceled.
Claire expected to find a dry article announcing the end of the engagement, but instead found a horror story. The press had had a field day. By the end of the first paragraph, she’d covered her mouth; by the third, she was holding her breath; and by the end of the article, she was fighting back tears. “That bitch!” Claire stammered in disbelief. It was a wonder the guy didn’t hate every female on the planet. She’d dumped him in the tabloids, and they’d covered his return by posting a photo of him on crutches and wearing a cast fielding questions about the breakup, rather than what he’d accomplished in service to his country. Beth had totally stolen his spotlight. “Give ’em what they want,” Claire whispered. Obviously, a celebrity breakup would sell better than a simple “hero returns” story. Best of both worlds.