Seduced The Unexpected Virgin

Thirteen


Part of her expected Ward to show up again on her doorstep. Or at least come into the office. But when one hour passed and then another, she realized she had to accept a grim reality. She’d asked him to leave and he’d taken her at her word.

It didn’t matter that she knew she’d made the smart choice. It didn’t matter that she knew their relationship had come to its logical end. Her heart still ached for what might have been.

No. Not even that. Her heart ached for what she imagined might be possible.

The honest truth was, she’d known going into it that they had no future. She’d known he still loved Cara. She’d simply let herself ignore the obvious. For a little while.

Of course she couldn’t bring herself to regret anything she’d done. She’d gained too much by knowing him. Obviously, there was the mind-blowing passion to consider. But even more, there was the insight into herself.

She felt as though she’d barely known herself until now.

Ward, for all his flaws—if loving his wife could truly be a flaw—had seen her more truly than she’d ever seen herself. He’d pointed out the lies she’d told herself to hide her deepest fears. And if she loved him at all, then the least she could do was respect the memory of their relationship enough to honor that.

Which was how she ended up parked on the street outside of Lena’s house just before noon. Just in time to see Ward leaving. She’d recognized his Lexus parked on the curb and so had parked her own sedan a few doors down, crouched low in her seat and waited.

Biting down on her lower lip and cupping her hand beside her sunglasses, she watched as Ward shook hands with Ricky. He gave the boy an attaboy slap to the arm. Then Ward walked out to his car, climbed in and drove away without even glancing in her direction. Which she supposed was to be expected. It was a miracle he’d ever glanced in her direction to begin with.

She waited five minutes to make sure he wasn’t going to turn around and come back, having forgotten his sunglasses or something. And then she waited another five for the knot in her throat to loosen. Then she climbed out of her car and walked up to Lena’s door, cursing the way fate had put her and Ward in the same place at the same time. It was bad enough that she’d still have to work with him occasionally for Hannah’s Hope. Why did she have to see him today, when she was already feeling so emotionally vulnerable?

When she knocked on the door, Ricky answered right away. His gaze widened in surprise and he gave a nervous little glance down the block as if to verify that Ward was truly gone.

“Ana. ¿Cómo estás?”

“I’m good. Is your mom here?”

“Ward just left,” Ricky said, instead of answering. His posture was belligerent. Protective almost.

“I saw that,” she answered.

Apparently, Ricky was hoping she’d press him for more information, because his expression soured into a snarl. “Don’t you want to know why he was here?”

She really didn’t. The less time Ward spent in her brain, the faster she’d recover. But Ricky obviously had no interest in protecting her. “Fine. Why was he here?”

“He was saying goodbye. He’s going back to Charleston.”

That defensive challenge was so strong in Ricky’s gaze, she couldn’t say anything.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know you really liked him.”

“He’s leaving because you broke his heart,” Ricky accused.

“He told you that?”

“He didn’t have to. I’m not an idiot.”

“Right.” And now she felt like that bad guy. What a fantastic day this was turning into. “Is your mom here or not?”

As if on cue, the door to one of the bedrooms opened and Lena propped her shoulder against the doorjamb. She was dressed in a robe, her hair mussed from sleep, her scowl already in place.

“What do you want?” she asked, her unspoken message—you don’t belong here—just as clear as her spoken one.

“I just wanted to talk,” Ana offered. She gave Ricky a pointed look and he was smart enough to excuse himself.

“I’ll be in my room, Mamá,” he said. As if she might need him to protect her from the big, bad Ana, when the reverse was probably far closer to the truth.

Once Ricky left, Lena’s scowl deepened. “You don’t have to look at me like that. I got a job working on the cleaning crew at the factory. That’s why I’m just getting up. Not ’cause I was out all night partying.”

Ana held up her palms. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it,” Lena accused.

“Honestly, Lena—” Then Ana forced out a sigh. No need to make things worse. “Look, I know you don’t like me. I know you think I’m spoiled.”

“And?” Lena asked with an arched brow.

Well. There she had it. It sure would have been nice if Lena had denied it. But since she hadn’t… “But I need a favor.”

“Why would I do you a favor?”

“Because the favor is I want you to accept a job at Hannah’s Hope.”

Lena’s gaze turned even more suspicious. If that was possible.

Ana could see the sneering anger ready to burst forth, so she jumped in before Lena’s indignation could overwhelm her pride.

“Just hear me out.” Lena studied her for a second before giving a little nod. “It’s come to my attention that I’m not reaching out to the community the way I need to.” She sighed, finding this harder than she expected. “Ward pointed it out actually. He thinks I’m afraid of being rejected. I don’t know. Maybe he’s right. I don’t know what it’s like to be poor. I know what it’s like to be unlucky, but I don’t know what it’s like to be down on my luck. But you do.”

Lena sneered. “So what? You want me to teach you what it’s like to be poor? Isn’t that backward?”

“No. I don’t need anyone to teach me. I just need someone who’s been there. Someone people will trust.”

Lena’s lower lip jutted out. “I’m not the kind of person people trust.”

“Well, you will be.”

For just a second, the suspicion faded from Lena’s gaze to reveal a flicker of hope. Seeing her chance, Ana started talking fast. “I can’t pay you much, but I can beat the cleaning crew at the plant. And the hours will be better. But you’ll have to work on your getting your GED in your off-hours. We’ll need to get you fully qualified within a year, I’d think.”

“What makes you so sure I’d want to work for you?”

“Because you believe in Hannah’s Hope. I know you do or you wouldn’t let Ricky go there. And I honestly don’t know if we can be successful without you.”

Ana could see Lena wavering. And she knew she’d win her over. She had to. She didn’t think she could take any more disappointment.

Before Ana could think of anything else with which to entice Lena, Ricky stuck his head through the door and yelled, “Come on, Mamá, just take the job!”

Lena’s expression softened. Then she smiled. “Well. I guess that settles it.”


Three days before the street fair, and her personal life in apparent shambles, Ana could think of about ten thousand things she’d rather do besides talk to a reporter. But when Gillian Mitchell from the Seaside Gazette called, Ana had little choice but to take her call. After all, Christi—who had dated the editor years ago—had called the guy several times hoping the Gazette would run a story about the street fair on the front page that Saturday.

The street fair seemed a pretty fluffy piece compared to the kinds of things Gillian covered, but if they wanted to put their ace reporter on it, who was Ana to complain?

However, she was not prepared for Gillian’s questions.

“Rumor has it that Ward Miller is planning on performing at the open house. This would be his first public performance in over three years. And the first single on the new album he’s been working on.”

For a second, Ana nearly laughed. As her surprise subsided, she weighed her options. Disappoint the reporter too much and she might not get the good placement they needed. But she didn’t want to toy with her, either. Finally, she hedged, “Ward is involved in a lot of charities. I’m sure they’d all love to claim his first public performance in three years.”

On the other end of the line, Gillian hesitated. Finally, in a tone that hinted at frustration, she said, “He may be involved in a lot of charities, but he hasn’t been involved with a lot of charity directors. I’d say his personal attachment to you changes things.”

Ana rocked back in her chair. “Oh.”

“I’ve surprised you.” Again, Gillian’s tone shifted. “I’m sorry I was so blunt. I thought you were blowing me off.”

“I wasn’t,” Ana said honestly. “Despite what you may have heard about my relationship with Ward—there’s no way he’s playing a song—new or otherwise—at the street fair.”

Gillian didn’t respond right away, so Ana continued.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure that’s not the big story you were hoping for. But Ward’s involvement with Hannah’s Hope is strictly as a board member and supporter. He’ll be attending the street fair in that capacity.”

At least she hoped he would. Since she hadn’t spoken to him since Sunday evening, for all she knew, he’d changed his plans and was on his way back to Charleston already.

“You sound really sure,” Gillian said, confusion in her voice.

Ana thought of Cara’s sunglasses sitting on the console by the door. Thought of the empty house he didn’t live in and the tiny carriage house to which he’d exiled himself. She thought of the Alvarez sitting in a glass display case at CMF, forever, eternally unplayed.

And then, thinking of the big fight they’d had, she figured the chances of him even showing up at the street festival were pretty slim. Forget playing at it.

“Yes. I’m very sure.” Then she thought of the annoyance in Gillian’s tone just a moment ago when the other woman had thought Ana was lying to her. “Wait a second. You sound pretty sure yourself.”

“I… You know,” Gillian said with sudden cheer. “I must have been mistaken. Thanks for your help.”

A second later, the line went dead.

Ana pulled the handset away from her head and stared at it suspiciously. She replaced the handset in the cradle, turned back to her computer and drummed her fingers mindlessly on her keyboard. Then looked up the number for the Gazette on Google, called it and a moment later had the front desk connect her to Gillian’s phone.

“You sounded really sure,” Ana repeated.

“I didn’t,” Gillian protested.

“No. You did. You were actually annoyed when you thought I was putting you off. What’s up?”

“There’s nothing up!” But Gillian’s voice sounded high and strained. She may be used to asking tough questions, but she wasn’t used to being in the hot seat herself.

“Who did you talk to that made you think he’d be performing at the open house?” Because God help her, if Christi had out-and-out lied to the editor to get him to run the story…

“A reporter never gives up her sources,” Gillian said sternly.

“Right,” Ana quipped. “This isn’t exactly high political intrigue we’re talking about. It’s entertainment gossip. Who is this source of yours?”

“Look, I just…” Gillian stammered. Then she released a sigh. “If he’s planning some big romantic gesture, I don’t want to be the one to ruin it.”

“If who is planning some big romantic gesture?”

“Ward.”

Ana’s heart stuttered in her chest. Ward? Planning a big romantic gesture? For her?

A bark of bitter laughter bubbled out. Gillian seemed not to notice it.

“My big source,” Gillian continued, “is his assistant. He called to schedule an interview with me for immediately after the street fair. He’s the one who told me about the song and new album.”

Ana’s heart started thudding dully again in her chest. “You mean Ryan. His new public relations manager.”

“No, that wasn’t his name.” On the other end of the phone, Ana heard Gillian clicking away on her computer as if pulling up a file. “Jess was his name. And he said he was Ward’s assistant.”

Ana frowned, rocking slowly back and forth in her chair. Ryan, she totally would have expected this of him. He wouldn’t have any trouble misleading a reporter to get better press coverage. But it wasn’t like Jess at all. “And it was Jess who told you about the performance?” Ana asked, still trying to wrap her mind around it.

“Yes. He said Ward was going to perform. That it was the first new song he’d written in years and that it was off the new album he just started recording this week.” There was a long moment—during which Ana could do little more than frown and rock. And then Gillian asked, “You didn’t know?”

The hint of pity—or maybe blatant curiosity in Gillian’s voice snapped Ana out of it.

“I knew he was in the studio.” That was strictly true. Throughout his time in Vista Del Mar, Ward had spent significant time at a recording studio in L.A. “He produces albums. He’s working on an album for some kid he heard in a club a few months ago.”

“Yeah,” Gillian said. “Dave Summers. He was working on his album. But they finished in the studio two weeks ago. Ward still had studio time and he’s been using it himself.”

Still not quite believing what she was hearing, she said, “You just called the studio and asked? And they told you?”

“I can be very persuasive.” Gillian’s voice was smugly pleased.

“Apparently,” Ana grumbled.

“Look,” Gillian began. “I’m sorry if I put my foot in it. If he’s planning some big romantic gesture…” She let her voice trail off.

Yeah. Right. If Ward was planning some big romantic gesture, Ana would be arriving at the street festival in a chariot pulled by exotic long-haired llamas.

Still, Ana found herself offering up reassurances. “If he is planning something, I’ll act surprised.”

Which would not be hard to fake.

Whatever Ward was planning, it wasn’t a gesture. Romantic, big or otherwise. They hadn’t spoken since the fight at her uncle’s house. All her life, she’d told herself she was putting off romance because the time wasn’t right or because she hadn’t yet met the right man. But maybe it was none of those things. Maybe she just sucked at love.


By the time Saturday rolled around, she no longer knew what to expect from the festival. Lena had showed up for work, on time, appropriately dressed and brimming with energy every day. She seemed not just determined to succeed, but to trample into the dust any doubts Ana might have had about her capabilities. She was even respectful. Mostly. She refrained from making snide comments about Ana unless they were alone. Christi and Omar were happy for the extra help in preparing for the street fair and agreed hiring Lena was a stroke of brilliance. Plus, the extra help had freed up Ana’s time and allowed her to make progress on all the paperwork that had been bearing down on her.

There were even several minutes of each day leading up to the festival during which Ana didn’t feel overwhelmed by the task ahead of her. Then she would remember the possibility that Ward would show up, and the panic would return.

But the night before she’d walked away from her job in L.A., her mother had reminded her that the things in life that most scared you were the only things worth doing. The street fair definitely felt like that. Terrifying, but worth the risk.

Midway through the schedule of events, Rafe was supposed to put in a brief appearance. Ana was glad of that. Before he left for Charleston, apparently Ward had done his best to convince Rafe to show up. Though Rafe’s secretary had confirmed he’d be there and even though Emma spoke to him the previous day, Ana knew she’d relax considerably once his appearance was done with.

Just knowing he’d be there ratcheted up her own tension. Which was already high enough that she could barely sit still and hadn’t eaten all day, despite the array of tempting treats the Bistro had provided.

Several local restaurants had set up booths on either side of the street where they were selling food. Naturally, all the proceeds would go to Hannah’s Hope. In addition to the food, there were half a dozen performers scattered up and down the street, all people Ana had known during her stint in Hollywood. A couple of jugglers and a clown. In front of the police station, a couple of stunt men were giving demonstrations on how to fake a barroom brawl.

Ana had also talked some of her friends who were makeup artists into doing face painting for the kids. Even Emma’s cousin, Becca Worth, had come down from Napa to offer up wine tastings. And all up and down the street, Christi, Omar and Lena were mingling, clipboards in hand, to recruit future volunteers and hand out pamphlets about the many resources Hannah’s Hope could provide.

Watching it all, Ana felt a deep sense of satisfaction that almost—almost—replaced her sorrow. She relaxed only margin ally when she saw Emma making her way through the crowd to her side. Chase was with her, a protective hand at her waist.

“This turnout is amazing!” Emma said loudly to be heard over the carnival atmosphere of the crowd. She leaned in to give Ana a hug of encouragement.

Ana returned it briefly and tried not to cling too long. “I know,” she agreed, pressing a hand to her belly to calm her nerves. “I don’t think I even knew there were this many people in town.”

Emma gave a little frown. “Well, I’m guessing not. Don’t you think a lot of people came in from San Diego? Even from L.A.”

Something about Emma’s tone sent Ana’s anxiety soaring. “Why would they?”

Emma blanched. “I thought you knew. Didn’t you see the paper today?”

“Which paper?” she asked, her dread tightening.

“All of them, I think.” Emma gave Chase a nudge in the belly. “Can you pull it up on your phone?”

A few seconds later, Chase handed over his cell phone. Ana turned the phone and the headline from the Gazette popped into view. Ward Miller’s Big Comeback, the headline read. She quickly scanned the article, which contained details about the new album he was recording. And about his appearance at the Hannah’s Hope street festival.

“It ran in the San Diego paper and the Los Angeles Times.”

After scanning the article, Ana carefully handed the phone back to Chase. She resisted the urge to hurl it across the street. She thought that was quite mature of her.

“He shouldn’t have misled that reporter.” She pressed her lips together, trying not to say nasty things about Ward in front of Chase, who was, after all, his friend. And then she considered how this would make Hannah’s Hope look and she cursed him out loud, despite her good intentions.

Emma frowned in concern and Chase raised his eyebrows.

“He didn’t even consider how bad this is going to make the rest of us look when he doesn’t show up.”

“What makes you think he isn’t going to show?” Chase asked.

Ana rolled her eyes. “He left town on Monday. I haven’t heard a word from him since. If he was going to show, he would have said something.”

“Are you sure he didn’t?” Chase prodded.

“Yes! I’m—” Then she broke off, suddenly unsure. Because the last they had talked about the street fair had been before their big blow up. She had asked him to leave, but had never said anything about not coming here. “I don’t know.”

Suddenly all her nerves about the street fair crystallized into a big knot of anxiety. She wasn’t entirely sure if she could face him again so soon.

But before she could rally her defenses…or even better, leave…she noticed a hush falling over the crowd. Heads started turning and a murmur of excitement flowed up the street toward a spot across from the makeshift stage at the edge of the park. A few feet away from her, she heard a man mention Ward’s name and point toward the stage. She strained onto her toes, but couldn’t see anything over the crowd. If Ward was out there somewhere, she wouldn’t know it until he was right on top of her.

Omar had worked all morning setting up the PA system for the remarks both she and Rafe would make just after noon. Since that was his milieu, she’d left it in his capable hands and hadn’t given it a second thought. Studying it now, she had no way of judging if it was just a normal PA system or something more devious. Like a sound system with which a famous musician might stage his comeback.

She had to stifle a growl of annoyance. How dare he show up here? After almost an entire week of silence? After breaking her heart?

But before the thought could even form in her mind, the frenzy of excitement in the crowd peaked. The masses parted and there he was walking toward her.

Not really walking toward her, of course, but rather toward the stage. Dressed casually in jeans and an untucked white linen shirt, he looked much the same as he had the first day they’d met. His sunglasses were up on his head. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal the tanned strength of his arms.

His progress through the crowd was slow because he stopped to talk to nearly everyone who greeted him. His smile was broad, his eyes crinkling with friendly laughter. There was an air of glamour and mystery about him, despite how casually he was dressed. Maybe it was the sheer magnetism of his personality. Maybe it was simply the way everyone he walked past responded to his presence. Whatever it was, she felt the tug of it herself, deep inside. Buried safe in her heart where no else would ever know it.

And she pushed that feeling even deeper, drawing on the nervous energy that had fueled her for the past week to muster up all the indignation she could.

She quickly excused herself from Emma and Chase and made her way through the crowd toward him. She was still too far away to overhear his words to the people who were stopping him—but she could all too easily imagine the fawning—when Jess stepped up beside him and spoke briefly into his ear. He nodded, then excused himself and made a beeline for the stage. She intercepted him at the steps.

When he spotted her, his expression shifted from the friendly, aren’t-I-a-nice-guy-even-though-I’m-a-star smile to something more reserved. More carefully contained.

She doubted anyone would even notice the subtle change, but it pierced her heart.

Well, two could play that game. She propped her hands on her hips and looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. She blocked his path and stood close enough to keep their conversation from interested ears. “What are you doing here?”

“I would have thought that was obvious. The article in the Gazette said I’d take the stage at eleven to say a few words and maybe play a song or two.”

She scowled. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

His lips curved in a smile that was gently chiding. “Apparently, you don’t read the papers.”