Even though that made her a hypocrite, because she'd done some omitting of her own during this week's retreat. She couldn't hold his lies against him, considering she'd wanted him to forgive hers. But she'd wanted him forever, while he'd wanted nothing of the sort.

His mistruths had a purpose, one that was now glaring and clear. This week had been a fantasy, nothing more. While she was giving herself to him, revealing a part of her nature she'd never shown another soul, a part she'd never known existed, he was withholding his true self.

While she was hoping and praying for a future, he was enjoying her newfound sexual freedom. The irony wasn't lost on her. Mac had gotten from this week everything she thought she'd wanted when she'd arrived.

And now? To Mac, the conference and her convenient stay at his hotel was probably a way to keep her around until she left for home. So he could continue enjoying their sexual exploits. She didn't want to believe it, but what else had this week been, but a festival of sex and sin?

Her heart begged her to be fair as a barrage of questions assaulted her. The emotions and feelings, could they really be all one sided? And what about the ring, Sammy Jo? It figures that little voice would return now. Oh, Mac must have had a good laugh over the silver trinket she was afraid would bankrupt him. She'd been a cheap date, Sam thought wryly.

And what about his dreams and his revelations? The desire to build a house, the fantasy about children? "You said it yourself, Sammy Jo." He'd told her from the beginning they were indulging in their fantasies, and fantasies had a definite end.

When she left, he'd probably wave goodbye and say thanks for a good time. Why not? She'd provided one willingly.

Sam didn't know what hurt more, her stomach or her heart. Looks like she'd be ending her engagement but winding up alone after all.

She buried her face in her hands as the realization washed over her. She'd gotten everything she came for. And not a damn thing more.


* * *

Mac strode through the lobby of his hotel. Knowing he couldn't risk running into Samantha, he'd showered, shaved and changed before leaving Bear's. Upon his arrival at The Resort, he tucked his bag away in his office closet, checked on his employees and made himself as scarce as possible.

Now a little before four in the afternoon, he needed to make sure things were on schedule. "Everything all set, Joe?" Mac leaned against the front desk in full view of the side elevators, so he could catch sight of Samantha before she could view him.

"Just like you instructed on the phone, Mr. Mackenzie."

After a week of being just Mac, he resisted the urge to look over his shoulder and see who else the young clerk could be referring to.

The name wasn't the only thing that felt strange. His clothes, a pair of black trousers, a white linen shirt and a sport jacket, standard for Resort clientele-hell, it was standard attire for him-felt stiff and awkward on his body.

Mac envied Bear and the relaxed comfort of his life. He never had before. Was it because his closest friend had found himself a soul mate, a woman who was willing to readjust her life and priorities in order to fit into his? Or was it because the time had come for Mac to stop living out of a hotel and move into a real home? A little of both, he assumed. He just couldn't be sure he'd end up with either.

But his friend had. Like Samantha, Bear's woman had merely been passing through his part of the world.

Impossibilities.

Improbabilities.

Bear would never desert Zee, just as Zee for all his zest and zeal, would never enjoy life outside of the Southwest. Which was why the old man didn't know all the details yet. It had taken some time, but Bear's lady, now his fiancée, understood that one of them had to sacrifice if they were to have a life together. Mac understood the same thing.

But with a hotel this size, his sister two hours away and his mother aging and incapable of handling responsibilities this huge, he couldn't be the one to give. That left Samantha, a woman with an older father and responsibilities of her own. Compromise, he reminded himself.

He turned to Joe. The guy had worked an extra shift and would be clocking out soon. "The flowers?" Mac asked.

"All set, sir."

Although he understood the necessity, the formality grated.

"The room will be filled as soon as she leaves for her cocktail hour," Joe said.

"The dinner?"

"Taken care of." If the clerk's smile grew any wider, his face would crack. Apparently pleasing the boss was high on his list.

" Champagne?"

"Done."

Mac had never been a hearts-and-flowers, romantic kind of guy. He still wasn't, and based on what he knew of Samantha, all he needed to do was explain why he'd neglected to tell her the truth. He didn't need to impress her with his wealth and surround her with luxury.

He might not need to do those things, but he wanted to. More than anything, he wanted to take care of her, to know she was safe in his suite of rooms and that she was his to come home to every night. He wanted her to know she was loved.

Because she didn't expect anything from him, he wanted to give her all that he had. And if he had to be honest with himself, he couldn't help think, courtesy of Zee, that some honest-to-goodness romance would smooth the way for the truth.

And a future. "The ring. Was it delivered?" Mac asked. He'd called in a favor and asked a good friend, a jeweler in town, to help him out.

"It's gorgeous. Fits her like she was born to wear it. If I do say so myself, you have exquisite taste, Mr. Mackenzie."

He'd been referring to the one he expected to be delivered, not the one currently on Samantha's finger. "Maybe the extra shift was one too many, Joe." Or the kid was a bigger kiss-up than Mac had originally thought. Although his enthusiasm and hard work were commendable, he often went overboard. If Joe thought he could butter Mac up by gushing over the turquoise-and-silver ring, he had a lot more to learn.

Not that Mac didn't love Sam's ring and all it represented. He did. But this kid wouldn't know that. "I'll check in with Jim myself," Mac muttered. If his friend said the package would be here, it would. Still it couldn't hurt to check.

After all, what was a marriage proposal without a diamond ring?

"Uh, Mr. Mackenzie?"

"Yes?"

"Miss Reed at one o'clock," The kid nodded toward the front desk. He'd been watching too many James Bond movies, Mac thought, but at least one of them had remained alert.

Mac had nearly been caught unaware, and he moved to the side of check-in behind a marble pillar. Too much hinged on tonight's surprise to blow things now. His location hid him well. He had a clear view of the front desk and of Samantha as she approached.

His first look stunned him. He should have been prepared. He'd known, or at least sensed, what kind of world she came from. Even so, the woman approaching the desk didn't resemble his Samantha. After a week of seeing her, sometimes in short skirts, other times in a casual dress that hugged her curves, and more often than not, stark naked, her outfit now was something of a shock.

Sure, the silk dress clung to her breasts and accentuated her hips and curves, but it covered much more than it revealed with its high collar and long sleeves. Her dark hair, in stark contrast to the cream-colored silk, had been pulled on top of her head with a few stray strands brushing her shoulders.

She appeared regal, cool and aloof, all words he'd used regarding other women who frequented this hotel, but none he'd ever thought to use about the woman who'd spent the week in his bed. Until now. Mac would bet The Resort she wasn't wearing sexy lace underwear beneath that dress.

"Excuse me."

A deep male voice sounded from behind her as an older man came up by her side. Mac drew the line at eavesdropping and snooping even in his own hotel, but he couldn't leave without calling attention to himself, so he waited.

"Yes, sir?" Joe asked.

"My fiancée is expecting a call from her father. Please have her paged at the cocktail party in the Western Ballroom if the call comes through."

"My pleasure, sir."

Mac stifled a chuckle. At least Joe kissed up to the guests as well.

"And your fiancée's name?"

The man laughed, a rumble from deep in his throat. "Why, this young lady here," he said with pride.

Mac expected him to pull a woman from behind him. Instead he reached for Samantha's hand and rested their hands on the counter.

Mac's gut twisted painfully. He'd been in barroom fights in his youth, but this punch to his stomach was much more brutal and infinitely more severe.

"But… but…" Joe stuttered and shot his boss a confused look. Mac placed his fingers over his lips, indicating the clerk shouldn't give him away, and nodded that Joe should go along. After all, the older man knew what he was talking about.

His Samantha had an extremely large diamond on the third finger of her left hand. The same finger that had once held Mac's silver ring. The token of his affection. Token being the operative word.

What did she need with his tin ring when she had that huge bauble hidden away? For that matter, what did she need with a penniless worker when she had a rich man waiting? He now understood why she'd dodged personal questions and avoided his attempts to get closer.

Mac studied the other man, wishing he could criticize, but the guy was well-dressed and not the potbellied aging gigolo he often saw with the younger women here. The only thing Mac could jump on was age, which brought one of two choices to mind.

Had Samantha amused herself with Mac, the bartender, enjoying a fun-filled week of sex before settling down with the rich but older catch? Or had she pegged Ryan Mackenzie within minutes of entering The Hungry Bear and set her sights on his wealth immediately? Lord knows Zee had a big-enough mouth, and Mac hadn't exactly sworn the older man to secrecy.

He didn't know which possibility was worse.

They started to walk away when Samantha turned back to the desk. "Joe?"

"Yes, Miss Reed?"

"Has Mr. Mackenzie returned yet?"

The younger man opened and closed his mouth while Mac held his breath until Joe responded, "No, not yet." The kid just earned himself a raise, Mac thought.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Watching the couple walk away, he clenched his hands into tight fists. He had his answer.

The past week came back to him in flashes of truth. She'd come to him that first night in the storeroom and played up to him until he'd asked her to stay. She hadn't jumped right into his bed, but teased and flirted until his control hung by a thread. The sex had been incredible, beyond his wildest imaginings. Yet his every attempt at emotional intimacy was met by her turning his attention back to their physical relationship. Even on the day they'd shared their dreams, she'd tried to pull away. Yet she'd finally bared her soul. Or so he'd thought.

But a woman who knew all along she was engaged to another man wasn't capable of sharing anything. Least of all her heart. She'd merely seen Mac as a better prospect and had gone after it.

Why marry a staid, conservative… dull type if she had a raging inferno waiting for her instead? Hell, the passion and fire between them burned so strong it nearly consumed them both, Mac couldn't deny that truth. He doubted Samantha could, either. So she'd told him what he wanted to hear. "I love you," being the words he had in mind.

If she'd been after sex alone, she wouldn't have whispered those three little words before her abrupt departure. But a woman with an agenda, one who'd strung him along, who'd whetted his appetite and curiosity from day one, who'd fed him every fantasy he wanted to hear… That woman probably sensed he was awake and whispered sweet nothings in his ear, wanting him to react accordingly.

And he had.

He ignored his thudding heart. He ignored the warning words in his brain telling him something was wrong. That his Samantha didn't have it in her to lead him on, to hurt him on purpose. Because despite all he'd viewed in the years since opening The Resort, he'd fallen for the very act he'd tried so hard to avoid.

Samantha epitomized every woman who walked into this hotel. The only difference was her ability to fool him. He didn't want to believe, but he couldn't discount what he'd seen. Mac had twenty-twenty vision.

He also had no trouble hearing, and she'd asked for him by name. She knew. For how long?