Page 166 of Confessions

Ben had been right. She should never have accepted anything that seemed to remotely resemble a date with Fitzpatrick. She stared out the window, listening to the radio and was thankful Thomas didn’t want to make small talk. All she wanted was to get home.

Home. How would she feel when the old house where she lived was owned by Thomas Fitzpatrick? One more way to be indebted to the man. Would she ever feel safe, knowing that he had a key to the house as well as her apartment?

She slid a glance in his direction. She wasn’t afraid of him, at least not physically. But powerful men could exert their force in other, more subtle ways. Her father’s job had already become an issue. Her work, now that she’d done a photographic layout for him, if he didn’t like it, could suffer. He had the means and the power in a town the size of Gold Creek to ruin her reputation and to make her work dry up.

There was still the studio, of course. Loyal customers wouldn’t be aware that Fitzpatrick was unhappy with her work, but the larger clients, the CEOs of corporations who might want a photographer could be swayed if the word was out that Fitzpatrick, Incorporated was unhappy with her work.

Too bad. She wasn’t going to back down or be afraid of anyone, including Thomas Fitzpatrick. If she had to, she could call Constance about that modeling assignment with Cosmos Jeans.

At her apartment, he started to get out of the car, but Carlie said, “Don’t bother. I’ve been thinking, and I’ve decided that it’s probably not a good idea to work with you.”

“But—”

“This evening proved one thing to me. I don’t need you, Mr. Fitzpatrick, and I won’t be manipulated into doing everything you want.”

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

“You did. You have, since I returned. I’m sorry your personal life is a mess, but there’s nothing I can do about it and I’m tired of veiled threats or promises or whatever you want to call them, about my dad. Do what you have to do. Take it up with him. As for me, I’m through with you. This wasn’t a business dinner tonight, it was a planned seduction.”

She thought he’d argue, but he didn’t. “If you’re offended—”

“I am, Mr. Fitzpatrick, but if you want to know the truth, I’m more disgusted with myself than with you. I should have known better. Good night!” Before he could say anything, she slid out of the car, slammed the door and marched up the steps to her house. As far as she was concerned, Thomas Fitzpatrick was out of her life.

She’d call Constance in the morning and take the Cosmos job, and maybe she’d move back to New York once her father was well.

You’d be running away. From your family. From Fitzpatrick. From Ben. So what? It was her life. She wasn’t forced to spend the rest of her years in Gold Creek.

As for Ben. He was better off without her! Her heart squeezed painfully, but she fought the urge to break down and cry. No more tears. She was in charge of her

life now and she didn’t have time for any more pain and broken promises.

* * *

BEN WAS WAITING for her. Shoulder propped against the window, arms folded over his chest, eyes narrowed suspiciously, he waited, like a tiger ready to spring as she stepped into her apartment.

“What’re you—”

“Close the door, Carlie,” he commanded, his voice firm.

She kicked the door shut but didn’t move. “What’s this all about?”

“First of all, you just got a call.”

She glanced to the answering machine and saw the red light blinking.

“Your friend Constance. Seems she thinks you might be going back to New York for a commercial.”

So this was how it was going to be. She noticed his jaded gaze and the cynicism etched in the lines of his face. So he’d come spoiling for a fight. “You aren’t here because you decided to be my answering service.”

“No.” He studied her face for a long moment. “Running back to the big city?”

“It’s business. That’s all.”

His lips curved into a smile that was as cold as the bottom of the lake.

“What is it, Ben? What happened that made you think you should let yourself into my house and start making insinuations again? For your information—I don’t need it. Not tonight. Not ever.”

“There is another reason.” The light in his eyes was deadly.