Her stomach contracted, tightening into a knot as she acknowledged what awaited her. An annoyed and humiliated fiancé, a betrayed parent and the unemployment line. Because once she ended her engagement, Sam had no doubt Tom, in his position as her boss, would terminate her immediately. And then?

Tom would move on, find another trophy to dangle on his arm and a competent financial planner to replace her. As for her father, she'd talk to his doctors and figure out whether he was capable of working again. Relocating seemed like a possibility for them both and would spare him Tom's wrath and the loss of status and dignity. One thing she knew. Her only parent would forgive. She had to believe that. After all, her mother and father had adored one another. Didn't she deserve the same? She'd agreed to this marriage because of a promise to her mother. A promise that had given her the sense of belonging she'd desired from parents who had loved, but hadn't known how to give in the ways a child needed.

But she was a woman now. One who'd been shown all she wanted out of life. She would never love anyone the way she loved Mac, and if he didn't want her forever, she'd rather be alone than settle for less. To do otherwise would demean them both. As she walked away from the balcony and back into the room, she laced her fingers over her stomach, trying without success to still the churning inside.

Why did doing the right thing have to hurt so much? Though she planned on coming back, she didn't know what awaited her upon her return. In silence, she packed her bag and paused by the bed one last time. She glanced down at the man sprawled on top of the covers and tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

She hated to leave him this way. She hated to leave him any way, but she had no choice. Too many unresolved issues remained in her life. If she stayed, she'd be tempted to throw herself into his arms, declare her undying love and refuse to face the outside world. If she stayed, she'd have to listen.

A part of her didn't want to hear him say he'd wanted their fantasy week and nothing more, though she knew she might have to face that eventually. But there was the other possibility. That he'd want her forever. Her heart beat more rapidly at the mere thought.

Sam wouldn't know what Mac desired until she confronted him. And until she freed herself from the engagement that bound her, she had no right to ask.

Leaning down, she brushed one last kiss over his lips. "I love you," she whispered softly.

Rolling over, he threw one arm above his head, but he didn't stir. Would he understand or would he hate her for slipping away before he awoke? The most she could do was hope. A tear trickled onto her cheek and she wiped the moisture onto her arm. Then she forced herself to pick up her bag and head down to the bar, closing the door behind her. At least she knew where to find him when she was ready.


* * *

Seems he'd underestimated his Samantha. Mac knew the instant she left the room, and less than ten minutes later, he heard the slam of a door and the sound of an engine. He didn't need to glance out the window to know he'd see the red taillights of her replacement rental car peeling out of The Hungry Bear parking lot.

Letting her go was the hardest thing he'd ever done. But he had no right to hold her when she so obviously wanted to be gone. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and groaned. He'd banked on a couple of extra hours together. She'd bailed out early without saying goodbye. She was conflicted and confused, that much he understood.

He had only her parting whisper, words he wasn't meant to hear, to reassure him. "I love you, too, sweetheart." Mac said the words aloud for the first time.

He'd always thought the words would be the hard part. Never had he imagined the woman he wanted in his life would be elusive and hard to tie down. Whatever her reasons, Samantha deserved to do things on her own terms. Just as he'd decided to handle telling her the truth about him on his. Mac leaned over and reached for the phone.


* * *

An open-air lobby greeted Sam as she walked into The Resort. Plant life surrounded her, as did plush chairs and glass-top tables with Indian-drum-style bases. She placed her luggage down on the terra-cotta floor, allowing a bellman to take her bags. The hotel exuded warmth, tasteful decor, and as her fiancé had reminded her more than once, it came with a five-star rating.

"Can I help you?" A young clerk, a nice-looking man who couldn't have been more than twenty, greeted her with a smile. The eager look on his face reminded her of her own early days at her first job.

"My name's Samantha Reed. I'm with the financial conference that starts tomorrow morning." She glanced at her watch and cringed. "I realize my room probably won't be ready until much later, but I was hoping to at least store my things." She'd been in such a hurry to leave before Mac woke up that she'd forgotten she'd be temporarily homeless until a room became available.

Ignoring the pain in her chest that accompanied the mere thought of Mac, she focused on her empty stomach instead. "And I'm starving. Is there a restaurant where I could have breakfast and sit for a while?"

The young man glanced up from the computer and shot her a beaming smile. "Actually, we're all set up for you Miss Reed. Your room is ready."

She blinked in surprise. "Must have been a slow week for you to have rooms ready this early."

"I, uh, yes. We had some early checkouts." He busied himself typing information into the computer.

She glanced around while she waited. The hotel sported a comfortable atmosphere in the beige, cocoa and white color scheme she'd described to Mac in her fantasy home. Their fantasy home, she thought, feeling the onset of tears.

Obviously she couldn't put her bartender behind her. Even this luxurious hotel reminded her of Mac.

"Miss Reed?" The clerk's voice grounded her thoughts. "If you'll just sign here…"

Sam scrawled her name and accepted her white coded key.

"Room 315A. Take those elevators in the corner and someone will be around shortly with your luggage." He pointed toward an alcove nestled between several shops. "The restaurant is down one level and is already open for business. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks again…" She leaned over the counter to read the name on his tag. "Joe. There is one more thing." She hated to ask, but she needed to know. "Has a Mr. Tom Webber checked in yet? Same conference."

The clerk tapped in a few computer keys. "Why, yes. Late last night. As a matter of fact, he left this for you."

A nervous fluttering arose in her stomach. "Thank you." She looked down to see an invitation to a firm cocktail party late this afternoon and a handwritten note informing her he'd be by to pick her up fifteen minutes before. So they could arrive together, arm in arm. A command performance, part of her obligation as his soon-to-be wife. She'd have to get to Tom before the party or perform as planned and wait until afterward to talk to him. The thought made her ill.

She glanced at her watch. It was too early to awaken her fiancé no matter how much she wanted this trauma behind her. Well, she could take care of other things in the meantime. At least her father was an early riser, and he deserved to hear her decision before Tom called him, raving about broken deals and dire consequences.

As she headed for the bank of elevators in the corner, she wondered if Tom might accept things better than she anticipated. Perhaps he'd made idle threats to her father, ones he'd never meant to carry out. He'd seen a man weaker than himself and preyed on that weakness. It didn't mean he'd follow through.

Tom was a nice-looking man, more than capable of attracting women. This wasn't a love match, and there were plenty of women more beautiful than she was, women more willing and better suited to play the role of a rich man's wife. Not that she believed anything could salvage her position in Tom's company. He was ruthless in business, and his personal life would be no different. To save his ego, Tom would never keep her around. To save her sanity and find the life that suited her best, Sam would give her notice regardless.

Her room was at the end of a very long, elegant corridor. Light wooden hand-carved sconces lined the walls and lit the way. If she understood the signs correctly, this floor would be on the pool level, but her room was in the opposite direction.

Without warning, the rooms became farther apart until there were no consecutive doors anymore. When she reached room 315A, she discovered there was also a 315B. Connecting rooms, she assumed, and her stomach cramped in a tight knot.

She hoped Tom hadn't gotten any crazy ideas about spending any intimate time with his fiancée. Until now he'd been content with holding hands in public for appearance's sake. She hoped that hadn't changed. It would only complicate what had to be done.

She inserted the card key and opened the door to her room. Suite, she mentally corrected herself as she took in the spacious area that defined the word luxury. Not one amenity was missing. She stood in an oversize room with a kitchen in one corner and living area in another. Her sweeping gaze caught a plush couch, tables, telephone, VCR and large-screen television. A person could live here well beyond one weekend and never want for a thing. There had to be a mistake. She should have realized it the minute the clerk told her there was a room available on an early weekday morning.

Curiosity took over, and she decided to explore before reporting the error. One partially open door led to a bathroom. She peeked inside. Taupe-and-cream marble, not the standard ceramic usually found in hotels, covered the floors, vanities and Jacuzzi tub. She glanced upward, seeing the full-service shower massage with nozzles everywhere, even in the marble walls.

Wow. She and Mac would have a blast in a place like this. Imagine all the uses he would find for the myriad jets in the Jacuzzi and stall shower. Heat blasted her body as she recalled their first time together in the old tub over the bar. She wrapped her arms around her, but it wasn't the same. She missed him already.

The extravagance here was impressive, but she'd been happier at Bear's. Because Mac had been with her. This suite and its luxuries meant nothing to her without him.

Finishing her brief tour, she noticed two more unopened doors. One she assumed would lead to a bedroom, the other possibly to her fiancé. She shivered at the thought. No noises sounded from either room. If Tom was inside, at least he was still asleep.

Sam quietly picked up the phone and called the front desk, explaining her predicament to Joe.

"I assure you there's been no error, Miss Reed."

"I've been to many conferences, Joe, and I can assure you my company doesn't splurge on suites for its employees." A standard room would be more likely.

"Let me check." Sam heard the clicking of computer keys before the clerk came back on the line. "Well, you're right."

"I knew it."

"You've been upgraded."

"Courtesy of?" she asked, but she already knew the answer. And she refused to remain here and be obligated to Tom when she knew she was about to break off their engagement.

"Hang on a minute, let me check."

Sam drummed her fingernails against the glass tabletop. As things stood now, she'd have to pay for her expenses out of her own pocket, and she certainly couldn't afford to splurge on a suite. She'd have to budget carefully until she found a new job, and she didn't want to dip into her small savings unless absolutely necessary.

What kind of financial planner would she be if she didn't heed the advice she gave her own clients? Save and prepare for the future had always been her mantra. Too bad her dad hadn't listened. Then she wouldn't be in this predicament now.

Wrong. If she'd asserted herself from the beginning, if she'd taken control of the situation another way, she wouldn't be in this predicament now. She refused to blame her parent because she'd succumbed to old habits, agreeing to play the dutiful daughter out of a sense of misplaced need. Part of her new outlook meant taking responsibility for her role in this mess.

"Miss Reed? This upgrade's on the house," Joe informed her.

"Are you sure? But why…"

"I'm sorry, but I've got to run. An emergency, you understand. If you have any questions, just stop by the front desk later." A click was followed by a dial tone.

She'd been disconnected. "Five-star service my…" At least she knew Tom wasn't lurking in the next room. She slammed down the receiver. Loud.