Free Hallie's Destiny (The Donovans of the Delta) by Peggy Webb Page B

forever,” he said.
    “We could. We’ve had lots of practice.”
    “On the other hand . . . I could tell you the truth.”
    “The truth? Josh Butler, owner of Silken Moments. One of the richest men in America.” Her voice was flat and toneless as she quoted from Fortune magazine.
    “I’m so sorry you saw that magazine. I didn’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”
    But he had, she thought. Whether he’d meant to or not, Josh Butler had dallied with her affections, betrayed her trust. She knew she would forgive him. His sins of omission could never outweigh the goodness she instinctively knew he possessed. But she had the very basic human need to lick her wounds, to vent her anger, to wallow in her pain, even to inflict some of her own before she allowed the healing power of forgiveness to restore her.
    “You must have found my offer to pay for the steak very amusing.”
    “You know that’s not true.”
    “And all my talk about the freedom of the open road. You secretly must have been chuckling at my gullibility.”
    He didn’t respond to her accusation, merely sat like a great golden jungle cat, with tense body and watchful eyes.
    “I called you my poetic trucking man . . . and you let me.”
    She balled her hand into a fist to stop its trembling. Quietly Josh reached over and loosened her fingers, one by one. “I’m so sorry, my gypsy angel.” Ever so gently he lifted her hand to his mouth. His breath was hot as he kissed her palm, a long, slow kiss that eloquently begged her forgiveness.
    Hallie melted. With her free hand she touched the bright golden hair that dipped across his forehead, smoothed it back tenderly.
    “Please tell me, Josh.” Slowly she took her hands away, folded them in her lap, and faced him. “Why did you deceive me?”
    He settled back into his side of the car and prepared to bare his soul, something he’d never done with a woman.
    “At first, Hallie, the deceit was unintentional. When you showed up in the lake, I could tell you didn’t recognize me. That meant you hadn’t read or didn’t remember any of the stories written about me.
    “You knew me, of course.”
    “Yes. Although I’d had nothing to do with hiring you for the ad campaign, I certainly was aware of it. While you were at Silken Moments, I walked by the studio where you were filming. I hadn’t come to see you. I had another matter of business on my mind.” He paused, smiling as he remembered. “The door to the studio was open. You were in that red dress, your head thrown back, laughing. You were stunning.”
    “Thank you. I always look good in red.”
    He chuckled at her lack of false modesty. Her admission was too charming and forthright to be based on conceit. “I’d meant to keep going, but Herb Williams turned the fan on under your skirt, and I was mesmerized. I actually forgot what my errand was as I watched you.”
    “Why didn’t you come in and introduce yourself?”
    “I started to, but Buford Ellis, my director of marketing, walked by and asked for a word with me. That was the last time I ever saw you . . . until I hooked your bra at the lake.”
    A shadow came across his face again. She waited quietly for him to continue.
    “I let you believe what you saw to protect myself.”
    “From what?”
    “I’ll get to that part later. First, you have to know that trucking is something I do to escape the pressures of my business . . . and of my life. When I’m on the open road, I enjoy the freedom of anonymity.”
    “You said you owned the truck.”
    “I do. My company owns a fleet of trucks. I find it more efficient and cost effective to deliver my own merchandise. When I feel the need—and can get away, which isn’t often—all I have to do is climb into one of the trucks and hit the road.”
    While they talked, the sun disappeared in the western sky and the air became cooler. Sounds of spring drifted in the open windows of the car— the song of the cicada, the whisper of a May