Page 56 of Turning Up the Heat

“No? You always hated Tom. You hated that I was with him. You knew something like this would happen.”

“No, Gemma, neither of us agrees with your relationship, but we would never want you to be hurt.”

“I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Wait, Gemma,” Quin said, catching her before she left.

“What?”

“Did you have a chance to read the summer launch information packet that I left on your desk?”

“Not yet. I put it in my bag.”

“The team added some of our ideas for taking on Cain Rum.”

“You think the best time to bring this up is now?” she asked, incredulous.

“You would have seen them anyway,” he reasoned. “I was going to go over them with you today. It’s not my fault that the circumstances have changed.”

She had no idea what the circumstances were. She wouldn’t know until she talked to Tom—to ask him what the fuck had happened, to tell him to go to hell, to hear whatever his side of the story was. She sighed. “I’m going home,” she told them. “I’ll let Jose know. If you need anything from the floor, tell him. I’ll look over the information later.”

“Sure,” Reid said. “Call later, okay?”

“I will.”

She was halfway down the stairs before she dug out her phone and dialed Tom’s phone number. It rang once before his voice mail picked up. She huffed in frustration. And now he wasn’t taking her calls? She didn’t even bother to leave a message. She didn’t need an explanation. He’d completely screwed her over. He had to have known about the ad.

She went back to her office. Her head was spinning. She couldn’t stay there any longer. She went over to Jose, where he was watching over the bottlers. “I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to head home. You’ve got this under control, right?”

“Yeah, we’re good. You go home and feel better. We’ll be fine here.”

Gemma hated to leave the distillery when they were so busy filling orders, but there was no way she would be able to focus on any of it with the way she felt. She felt humiliated, betrayed. And whether Tom had seen the ads or okayed them, he still represented Cain Rum. She went to her office and tried calling him again. Voice mail. She huffed in frustration and threw her phone into her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, and she picked up her keys and left.

On the drive home, Gemma’s mind wandered. She mentally reviewed their entire relationship, looking for clues that he would betray her. And the more she thought about the blissful, fun, loving moments between them, her mind shifted to the questionable things. Like the questions he’d asked her about the distillery, his interest in her equipment. Was he just interested in her, or had he been digging for information? God, she’d been so stupid.

The closer she got to her home, the tighter she gripped the steering wheel. Her knuckles were white, and her hands cramped. She relaxed her grip as she slowly climbed the driveway. She would try to call Tom again, and if he refused to take her call, then that was the last time she would reach out to him.

She felt the tears form at the corners of her eyes. This was why she didn’t do relationships. She hated that she was letting herself get so emotional over some guy. She should have seen what was happening after his first visit to Miami. He’d transformed from a secret, illicit one-night stand to someone she’d cared for. Someone she’d somehow fallen in love with, and had been willing to sacrifice everything for.

When Gemma’s house came into view, she saw that there was another car in the driveway. “What the...?” There was a man sitting on her porch, and she sighed in relief and frustration, when she realized it was Tom. He was sitting with his forearms across his thighs, his head thrown back against her door. She had given him a key, but he hadn’t used it. He was waiting for her to come home before letting himself in. He noticed her and stood, but averted his eyes from her gaze. She was unsure which emotion he wore on his face. Shame? Remorse? He stood and jammed his hands in his pockets, the movement slumping his broad shoulders into a curve. He looked at her briefly before looking down at the ground.

Gemma grabbed her backpack from the passenger’s seat and slung it over her shoulder. She stepped out of her vehicle. “Why are you here?” she called to him.

“To explain.”

An explanation was all she wanted. But she didn’t know what he could say to make it better. With whatever he said, it would likely signal the end of their relationship. She walked past him, and her arm brushed his. “I’d love to hear it,” she muttered sarcastically. She unlocked the door and walked in. He followed behind her.

He closed the door. “You’ve seen the ad, then.”

Gemma tossed her open backpack to the floor and turned to face him. “Yeah, I have. The real question is though, when did you see it?”

“Yesterday.”

“You saw it yesterday. Funny, you never mentioned it when we spoke on the phone.”

“I thought I could stop it before it launched. But I was too late. I was just as blindsided as you are.”

“I highly doubt that. Nobody’s publicly embarrassed you.”

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