But no . . . that was part of her past now. And the present was calling her in the direction of the woods.
Hopefully, her future was, as well. As she followed the path to the stables, however, Alice was having some major doubts and misgiving about that.
The stable door was unlocked, which meant that Dylan was there already. Before her anxious anticipation had the chance to mount even higher, she immediately caught sight of him. She’d interrupted him as he lifted Kar Kalim’s heavy saddle. He looked around, saw her, and immediately dropped the saddle back onto its stand.
For several lung-burning seconds, they just stared at one another.
He wore jeans, riding gloves, boots, and a rust-colored T-shirt. His biceps still bulged with tension beneath the short sleeves, even though he’d released the heavy saddle. He’d grown a goatee since she’d last seen him, and his hair was a little longer. The dark facial hair was neatly trimmed and highlighted his hard, sensual mouth. His dark eyes were as compelling as she remembered. More so. Those lustrous gypsy eyes slowly moved over her now, making her intensely aware of every square inch of her body.
“What are you doing here, Alice?”
She wilted a little at his brusque tone. He was still mad at her. She wasn’t expecting anything different, really, but the evidence of his anger dented her waning courage.
“I came for the press conference, and . . .” She swallowed thickly. Her uncertainty swelled now that she stood here face-to-face with him. The bond she always felt with him remained, that electrical physical and sensual awareness of him. But his expression was so cold and forbidding. The combination of connection and distance pained her.
“And?” he asked, letting go of the saddle and unsnapping a glove. Her confidence faltered even more in the face of his cool reception. He glanced up after he’d pulled off both gloves and shoved them in his back pocket. His dark eyebrows quirked up in a gesture that seemed to say, Well?
“I walked through the camp. It seemed so empty,” she said with a fake smile, waving at the camp.
“So you came to see the camp?”
“I came to see you,” she blurted out. “I . . . I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“Dylan, why are you making this so hard?” she asked, her frustration and anxiety getting the best of her.
“Because I don’t know what you’re here to say,” he replied succinctly. Their stares held, and this time, she felt the edge of his emotional state. He wasn’t as cold to her arrival as he’d first seemed. She hesitated, overwhelmed by longing for him and her sense of frustration at expressing herself. She wasn’t good at this. His nostrils flared slightly as he watched her struggle.
“I can’t do everything, Alice,” he said roughly, his mouth hard. “Some steps, you’ve got to make on your own.”
She stood there, awash in helplessness, as he lifted the saddle with one sure movement, turned, and walked away.
*
HE’D arrived at the stables a little early that morning. It was going to be a long day. His nerves were frayed, for more reasons than one. The press conference was scheduled for eleven a.m. in the ballroom of a large local resort hotel. The Durand public relations department and his admin, Mrs. Davenport, had things running smoothly.
On his end, the waters were pretty choppy, though. It seemed that every Durand department head and manager, both national and international, wanted to talk to him, making for some hectic days and nights of late. There was an unsettled feeling in the large company, and people wanted reassurance. He’d told Mrs. Davenport when they made the press conference public, and rumors started to leak, that he would handle all the calls personally. If he could assuage any anxieties by talking to people one on one, he would.
Today would be the most hectic day of all. Charlie Towsen had diligently been keeping him apprised of his interactions with Alice, so he knew she’d agreed to the press conference. The fact that he’d see her later at the press conference had him pretty edgy. Not knowing what she was thinking about their meeting—what she was thinking about anything—was driving him crazy.
A vigorous ride on Kar Kalim would clear his head.
Maybe.
There wasn’t a chance in hell.
He reached for the saddle. He heard the stable door open and glanced around in surprise. It was only five thirty in the morning.