Dreams That Bind Us (Romancing The Keys #3)

Chapter 17

S ingapore, Two weeks later

James growled into the receiver as his call went to voicemail again. It was at least the tenth time he'd tried to reach Anna in the last two weeks, and she hadn't picked up once or returned his calls.

He stared at the Singapore skyline, not seeing anything, his eyes unfocused. Something was very off—he sensed it, knew it in his gut—but what, he couldn’t be sure.

Actually, that was wrong—he knew exactly what he’d done: treating Anna like a pariah, then leaving for New York, and cutting off all communication.

This was his fault, his fuck up.

Guilt tore through him, the pain sharp. He owed her a huge apology after behaving like an idiot. What had happened in his kitchen hadn’t been Anna's fault. His mother had a message for him and he understood now that she wouldn’t have quit until she’d gotten through to him.

Anna had only done what was natural for her and something she’d even described to him several times. She had been completely transparent about her abilities and trusted him with that part of herself.

And what had he done with that? Suddenly, it was as if the clouds faded and everything was clear again. And he really didn’t like what he saw.

When she’d shared what all those other guys had done, he’d promised he wouldn't do the same thing. And yet that was exactly what he did. Then he'd ran like a coward and didn’t come up for air for weeks.

Shit!

"Fuck, Fuck. Fuck," he muttered under his breath as he scrolled through the contacts on his phone. He found the number he needed and pressed the button, grinding his teeth as he listened to it ring.

"Come on. Pick up."

"Paradise West. This is Annette. How may I help you?"

"Annette! Thank god." James stood and began pacing across the office floor. "I've been trying to reach Anna but she's not answering."

"James?"

"Yes, it's James," he ground out, finding it difficult to hold onto his patience. "I need your help, Annette. Anna's not answering her phone. Have you seen her?"

Annette's bark of laughter was sharp and sarcastic, and distinctly unfunny. "You really screwed the pooch with this one, buddy. There's nothing I can do to help you. But to answer your question, yes, I ran into her yesterday at The Majestic when she was delivering part of your furniture order."

James could hear his heart pounding in his head. "What do you mean?"

"Don't be coy, James. You know exactly what I mean. Anna didn't share much with me, but I could tell from what I pried out of her that you took off after witnessing her psychic powers in play. And the only reason I got that out of her was because I noticed her red eyes. I could tell she had been crying. What the hell, James? I can’t believe I vouched for you."

"Fuck!" he shouted, his voice ringing against the walls. "She's not answering her phone. I need to talk to her, to apologize and tell her how sorry I am."

"Ah, that's easy to explain. One of those huge delivery trucks ran over her phone a couple weeks ago. Smashed it to bits. She said she'd decided not to replace it and just enjoy the silence for a while. She told Gus to email her if he needed to contact her. Oh, she also said she wouldn’t be taking any further orders for The Majestic."

"Damn it, Annette. I have to reach her. This is a misunderstanding. That's all."

"Then get your ass out here and tell her to her face."

"I'm in fucking Singapore. It's not like I can just be there in a couple of hours."

"Ha!" Annette's tone held a bitter edge. "James, you fly on private jets all over the world. You can be here in less than twenty-four hours if you wanted to and you know it. It’s simply a matter of time and priorities."

He didn't have an answer for that because she was right. He could be there by tomorrow. But this business deal was down to the wire and he had to stay until it was done.

His mind drifted back to the scene in his kitchen and the way Anna had slumped against the island. He hadn't even tried to help her or soothe her.

He'd just walked away.

His gut twisted at the way he'd left things between them, the way he'd run like a chicken when he'd heard his mother's words come out of Anna's mouth.

"She said you ended it," Annette added quietly.

"No," he choked out. "No, that's not true."

Annette sighed. "Well, I'm fond of both of you, James, so I'm not picking sides here. But I'm not going to lie. I'm really disappointed in you. Even if it's not true, you hurt her deeply and I won't be a party to that."

"Annette, please. I need your help. Could you just drive over there and ask her to call me?"

"Absolutely not! You are not getting me involved. And besides, she lost her phone, remember? Why don't you email her like everyone else?"

"I don't have her email," he snarled. It wasn’t technically true. He had her business card with her email address, but that was sitting on his desk in Key West.

"Do not give me that tone, James Armstrong. I'm not one of your damn minions," Annette snipped. "You could have her email address within minutes if you really wanted."

James stared at a large painting on the wall, not even seeing it. Annette was right.

"James?" Annette asked after a prolonged silence. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here." He felt deflated. He'd crushed the woman he loved and he'd done it because he'd been scared. Afraid of what else she might say.

"I fucked up, Annette. And I don't know what to do." He was being completely honest. He had been running from the fear, but he was done trying to escape it.

"Yes, you did." Annette's tone was definite. "But the good news is that you see it. And now you can get back here and fix it."

"Would you give me her email address, please? I won't tell her how I got it, I promise."

Annette released an annoyed sigh. "Fine." She rattled off the email. "I'd recommend you do some serious groveling at this point. Oh! I just remembered. Anna said something about taking a break after she was done with your order. And by the way, she's almost done with it. The girl has been working nonstop. I really don’t think she’s sleeping either. But anyway, she said she wanted to travel and get out of town for a while, something about Australia. It sounds like she intends to leave within the next few weeks."

"Shit! I knew I shouldn't have left but these damn deals were on the line and the buyers insisted on meeting me in person."

"Yeah well, those are just excuses, James. It’s not like any of these deals are make or break for you. We both know that most of your empire is on autopilot. Again, priorities. I don't think Anna will care about any of that. She seemed…I don't know. Robotic, maybe? She was definitely off. Oh, hold on a second, a guest needs my help."

James growled in frustration as he listened to Annette's muffled voice over the line. His situation with Anna was much worse than he’d thought, especially if she was planning for an extended leave.

He would track her down eventually, but by then there was no telling how much further she would have herself blocked away. He had to see her now before it was too late.

"Okay, sorry about that. James, I'd recommend you don't wait if you want my opinion. And other than the email, I don't think there's anything I can do to help you."

"No, you're right. I need to fix this now. Thanks for letting me know, Annette."

"God, I love it when a man actually listens to me," she snarked.

"Bye." James ended the call and pushed the button for Gwen, who sat at a desk down the hall.

"What do you need, boss?"

"Gwen, can you get the lawyers back in here right now? I need to be out of here and on a plane in the next few hours."

"Sure thing."

"And can you locate the best florist in Key West? I have some extensive groveling to do."

Key West

Anna rolled her tired shoulders as she plugged the numbers into the spreadsheet and saved it to the computer. The dull ache throbbed behind her eyes.

She hated this part of the business, but it was a necessity. According to her records, the vast majority of The Majestic's final order was finished and there were only three additional cabinets to complete. And those were already half done. She’d knock them out in the next few days.

She had cranked through this project like a woman possessed, and amazingly the quality of her work hadn't suffered. If anything, it was better than ever.

The work required focus and soothed her heart, for which she was grateful. Although she really had James to thank. He would certainly benefit from the excellence of the furniture. Without this mind-numbing work, she would be beside herself with heartache. As it was, she was barely eating and sleeping.

But Anna knew from experience that she just needed to get through this initial rough patch and continue to rebuild her walls. After a while, the pain would dull to an ache and eventually, she would feel nothing again. She longed for that day.

With a heavy sigh, she opened her email and winced at the number of new messages. She scanned the list, several from the gallery, a handful from her vendors, and a few delivery confirmations. When she tabbed to the next page, her eyes froze on a group of five emails. The sender was a James Armstrong.

Dammit! Is there no peace from this man?

Several loud raps echoed through her warehouse, making her jump. Swiveling in her chair, she glared at the large metal door, willing the intruder to go away.

There were no delivery pickups scheduled, and she hadn't ordered anything. No one should be here. They must have the wrong address.

She jolted again as a fist pounded on the door and she shoved away from her desk with a snarl.

"What?" Anna barked as she swung open the door, ready to rip into the intruder. She came to an abrupt halt and blinked several times as she tried to process the spectacle before her.

Seven oversized vases, nearly as big as she was, sat in a semicircle, overstuffed with masses of red and yellow roses.

Another shaft of pain shot through her head and for a moment, she wondered if she was having an aneurism. "What the hell is this?" she snapped, holding her hands to her temples. "I didn't order any flowers."

Parked behind the array of arrangements sat a gray delivery van with an elaborate pink and purple logo splayed across the side that read The Keys to Your Heart Floral Shop .

She glared at the head that popped up from the back of the delivery van.

"Got an order here for an Anna Kingsley." The man stepped around the open doors, his arms wrapped around another ridiculously tall vase full of an elaborate tropical bouquet as he awkwardly lumbered toward her.

He dropped it in place next to the others, chomping obnoxiously on a piece of gum, and handed her a clipboard and a pen. Then gave her a chin lift. "That's you. Would you sign at the bottom to confirm you received it? I got a couple more in the back for you."

"What? No!" She shook her head violently, making the ache even worse. "I'm not signing this. Take them back."

Damn. Maybe I'm having a stroke. Or I’m hallucinating due to overwork and lack of sleep.

"I don't want any of these. I didn't order anything." She stared at the packing list in horror. Ten deluxe arrangements had indeed been scheduled to deliver to her workshop.

Gah! This is my nightmare.

The man panted as he carried another vase over and placed it in front of her. "Whelp, ma'am. You'll have to take that up with the gentleman who sent you this." He held up a large white envelope. "Supposed to give you this after you sign." He tapped the envelope on the clipboard. "Right down there by the 'X'."

"I have a better idea. Why don't you load all this crap into your van and we'll pretend this never happened."

The man blew a large bubble and grinned after he sucked the gum back into his mouth. "No can do, ma'am. I'm getting a huge tip from your admirer once I confirm you received the order." He leaned forward as if he were sharing a top-secret message. "It's more than what the arrangements cost, so I ain't screwing this up. Now sign."

James is determined to screw up my life.

She moaned as she massaged the back of her neck, desperate to break the pain. Why wouldn’t he just leave her alone?

And why now? Was he determined to keep her hanging on? Was this some sick game of his? He made it clear with his reaction followed by his prolonged silence that it was over. Hell, he'd practically hung a neon sign on her neck that read ‘FREAK.’

She’d never forget the look on his face and the fear and distance in his eyes when he’d stared at her. Turning from her touch, making excuses mechanically, not even saying goodbye all while breaking her heart.

He had been cold and distant and it had cut her to the core, especially when she'd been so completely vulnerable. There was no way she could accept any of this.

"Look. I don't think I could even pick one of these up, much less carry them all into my warehouse. Plus, there's nowhere to put them. They'll just sit out here in the heat and wilt until the animals eat them. Why don't you take them to Old Town and set them out on the sidewalk, or hand them out to tourists or even set them up in one of the bars up Duval Street? They'd probably love that."

The man cackled as if she had cracked the best joke of the year. "I'll help you carry them into your warehouse. Don't you worry, ma'am. But hold on, there's one more in the van for you."

"Oh, for fuck’s sake!" This entire situation was ludicrous. Maybe if she went back to bed, she'd wake up and realize this was all just a bad dream. That's right—none of this was real.

Breaking her heart and ending things was bad enough, but she would never forgive James for this. To disappear and ignore her, then come barging back when it was convenient for him and destroying her sense of peace? Nope.

Not on your life, buddy.

"Okay, I'm ready," the man wheezed as he lugged the final arrangement over. "Can you hold the door open for me?"

Anna folded her arms across her chest, firmed her jaw, and delivered the iciest glare in her arsenal. There was no way this crap was going in her warehouse, her sanctuary. James, and anything to do with him, was no longer allowed there.

"Ma'am, come on." The man plunked the vase on the ground, water sloshing over the edge. "Please don't ruin this order and tip for me. I'm a small business owner and sales have been down all year. They also said if I took care of this for them, I'd get a contract to supply flowers to that new hotel they're about to open on the south side of the island. It’s a lifesaver for me and I'll be in the black by the end of this month."

Shit.

If there was anything Anna understood, it was the difficulty of running a small business. It wasn't this guy's fault that his customer was a massive asshole who liked to play with women's emotions.

"Okay, fine." She pulled her door wide and propped it open with a cinder block, then followed him inside. "But shove them against the walls. I don't want them in the way while I'm working."

"Not a problem."

Anna watched as the man placed all ten along the walls throughout the huge open space. It actually looked decent, not that she was about to admit it.

"There!" The man wiped his hands. "That should do it. They look great with this industrial backdrop. You should do a photo shoot in here. Did you sign that form?"

She grumbled under her breath as she grudgingly scribbled her name across the line, then shoved it at him. "Here. Now go. I have work to do."

Boy, did she ever. She’d finish those last three pieces and never have anything to do with the man ever again.

It was her only focus now: removing every last tie she had to James Armstrong from this warehouse and her life.

"Thank you." He scanned the form and gave her a nod. "Hey, don't forget this." He handed over the envelope, gave her a brisk nod and walked out the door. "Have a good day," he called out over his shoulder.

Anna scowled at the envelope, holding it between her thumb and forefinger as if it carried the plague. The last thing she wanted to do was read his Dear Jane letter.

It was better to leave things the way they were now rather than resurrect the pain. The odds were low that she'd run into him on the island. Besides, it seemed like he wouldn't be on Key West much anyway. If they did cross paths, she'd just pretend he didn't exist.

Yeah, it could work.

She closed the door and locked it, then stumbled to her desk and tossed the large envelope into the massive pile of unfiled paperwork on her filing cabinet.

Her first instinct was to throw it in the trash, but something held her back. Maybe she could read it a few years from now when it didn't hurt so much. Or when she got lonely, she could use it as a reminder of why relationships weren't for her.

If that day ever came.