Shaking her head, she stepped closer to smooth both hands across the front of his light beige suit coat. “Simon, calm yourself. Now, what you’ve said is very true and I do realize that too much has happened on that side of town. I also know why so much has happened
Simon’s dark eyes searched her face. “Why?” he parroted.
“The owners left on the block have just realized how ‘special’ our land is. I don’t think any of us want to let go of it in spite of the fact—”
“What do you mean—none of you wants to let go of it?”
“Simon—”
“After all the crap you’ve gone through, you still haven’t had enough?”
“Simon?” Topaz treaded softly, backing away from her former fiancé’s advancing figure.
“People have been seriously hurt over there and y’all still aren’t convinced. You keep playin’ on the edge and nobody’ll be able to help you. Any of you.”
Topaz stopped retreating, her mouth opening in surprise and discovery. As Simon ranted, she finally acknowledged what had been right before her eyes. She thought back to a conversation with Casey Williams when she denied ever hearing the name Weston Enterprises. She had heard it, though. Once when Simon obtained his new position, once at a DeAndra Rice party, and again at Clifton Knowles’s get-together the evening before.
“Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you, Topaz? Topaz?”
“Yes, yes, yes, Simon, I understand,” she gasped, desperate to remain calm. “I understand and—I agree.”
Simon’s glare appeared to fade. “You agree?”
“It’s what I was trying to tell you before you exploded,” she explained, walking away as she spoke. “We’ve started to reconsider our adversity and, um, we’re planning to contact the interested buyers this week.”
Simon’s relief was now more evident. He seemed to utter a relieved sigh before approaching Topaz and placing a sweet kiss against her forehead.
“I’ll call you later,” he decided and brushed past her on his way to the door.
Topaz quietly yet quickly slid the dead bolt in place when he exited. Leaning against the cool oak door, she eased down its length, her hands covering her face. Her mind reeled from the discovery. So many things—events came to mind, coincidences she’d dismissed as nothing more. Her heart raced, threatening to impede the steadiness of her breathing.
She’d been huddled next to the door for quite a while when a harsh pounding threatened to knock it from its hinges. Topaz jumped and flinched away. Crouching on the floor, she looked at the door—hoping that her silence would prompt the unwanted visitor to leave.
“Topaz? Topaz, it’s Alex! Topaz!”
“Alex,” she whispered, moving to her feet and whipping open the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Are you all right?” he counterquestioned, bending a little to look directly into her eyes.
“All right? Why? Why would you ask something like that?”
“Have you seen Simon?”
Topaz tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You know, don’t you?”
“That he works for Weston?”
Topaz felt her legs weakening and turned away. “He came here. I thought he wanted to talk about how things were going with the shop. Then he—he just got so angry when I told him everyone on the block was still unsure about selling. I never saw him so angry,” she whispered, then turned quickly. “Oh, Alex, do you think he could’ve had anything to do with the others being forced to sell?”
“I can’t be sure,” he admitted, slowly shortening the distance between them. “I’d be willing to say it was a safe bet, though.”
Topaz hugged herself, feeling chilled beneath the folds of her cozy pink terry cloth robe. Alex could hear her breathing become labored and he knew she was weeping.
“Shh ...” he soothed, enveloping her in his strong arms. “Don’t do this, Topaz ... it’s gonna be fine,” he promised, brushing his mouth across her temple. “Shh ...” he continued, his soft kiss falling to her jaw, earlobe, and neck.
Topaz turned then and they shared a hug.
“Alex, do you think Simon could’ve had anything to do with the fire at my garage?” she asked, her voice sounding muffled against his chest.
“Shh ... don’t think about it.”
“You do, don’t you?”
“Topaz ...” he sighed, wanting to ease her mind but unable to deny that Simon Whitley might have been involved with the blaze. He felt her shudder against him and knew her tears had returned.
“Honey, don’t do this to yourself,” he urged, holding her impossibly tight as he kissed away the tears sprinkling her lashes and cheeks.
Slowly, the feathery kisses caressed the tip of her nose and the corner of her mouth. Topaz nuzzled into the softness, her lips pressing against his, until their tongues were engaged in a sweet duel. Alex massaged her back as he moaned his appreciation. It was some time before he realized she was pushing him away.
“What?” he asked.
Topaz wouldn’t meet his gaze. “You should go.”
“Why?” he whispered, tilting his head to obtain a better view of her face. “Topaz?”
“Alex, I can’t handle you—this right now.”
He straightened, reluctantly admitting that it was best that he did leave. He cleared his throat to quell the rise of emotion in his chest, then nodded and left the house.
