“No. The way you eat, you need a steak. You’re eating for two. I have to go to Reno tomorrow. I’ll answer Charlie’s emails to Mitch Hutchins from the hotel and see if I can set up a meeting with Sam.”
Cleo sighed. She missed Sam. There was a raw wound inside her that would never heal. She’d hoped not seeing him would make the pain bearable with time, but fate was conspiring against her. She moved her hand across her flat stomach. A baby! She was going to be a mother. She couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry.
Mitch walked over to her and hugged her. “Listen to me. I think you love that guy, and I think he cared for you. Maybe you two could try to make a go of it. So what if he’s a filthy rich? It’s not a capital offense. I’m sure they lied for a good reason—we lied too, Cleo. I know using fake names was my idea and I’ll accept the blame, but at the time it made sense. In my line of work, stalkers are a problem. Maybe they thought the same way.”
Cleo hugged Mitch. “What would I do without you? Contact Charlie and see if Sam will meet with me. I’ll make a decision from there. No matter what happens, I want this baby.”
Chapter Seventeen
I’ve found her.
Sam stared at the three-word email on the computer screen, the reason he’d left Wales so suddenly last night. He’d stayed at the job site longer than he’d needed to because he’d been unable to face returning home knowing Cleo was still in the wind. She hadn’t filed for divorce. Charlie had flagged the case.
Charlie had assured him the feelings he had for Cleo would disappear over time, but he’d been wrong. Sam had done his best to throw himself into the renovations and his business. He’d signed three more contracts in Europe: two in France and one in Austria. The renovations and upgrades to the chateaux converted into hotels would add to his corporate wealth. He’d create a branch of the company to specialize in these projects and staff it accordingly.
Yet every time Sam saw Walter, he remembered the Skywalk. Each time he met Matt at the airport, his day in the helicopter came back to him, and when he saw couples smiling and kissing, walking hand in hand, his heart ached for Cleo. None of the women who’d thrown themselves or been thrown at him by others affected him in any way. Hell, the only time he had a hard-on was when he dreamed of his wife.
He usually busied himself on these flights with paper work or drawing plans, but the only thing he’d drawn in the last two months had been pictures of Cleo. He looked down at the quick sketch he’d made of her. In her Orion slave girl costume, she looked at him with that Mona Lisa smile of hers. He slipped the drawing inside his jacket pocket. Soon, he’d see the real thing.
The plane taxied to the hangar. He shut the computer and stood, ready to disembark. Charlie was waiting for him with Roy. Sam couldn’t wait to find out what they’d discovered. He wanted his wife. He just prayed she’d want him too.
It was just before eight. He’d flown through the night to get here as fast as he could. He’d slept some, but his rest had been plagued by nightmares of Cleo refusing to see him, refusing to speak to him.
“How was the flight?”
“Long, Charlie, long. What did you discover? Where’s my wife? She is still my wife, right?”
“As far as we know. I’ve had a PI staking out the post office in Reno since my friend at the IRS gave me that PO Box for her. Mitch showed up there last week. She spent three days in town. She sent me an email asking for a meeting. I told her you were still out of the country, and I’d contact her as soon as you got back.
“I had the detective follow her. She lives in mobile home in Rachel, Nevada. Her name is Michele Trent. She runs an Internet store specializing in space rocks. I bought one of them last year. Once I had her name, I ran a background check and found your wife.” Charlie ran his hand nervously through his hair.
“Tell me the rest.”
“Cleo did, of course, use an alias. I figured a false name would invalidate your marriage.”
“I’m confused. You just said we were still married.”
“When I found out who she was, I had the handwriting expert look at the signature again. He’d been unable to give us anything definitive earlier, but when I gave him the name, it fell into place. She’d signed her real name: C. C. James. She signs it as one word. Catherine Cleopatra James.”
• • •
Cleo turned off the shower and stepped out into the steamy bathroom. Why was it she couldn’t wash herself without reliving the one and only shower she’d ever taken with Sam? Although she’d come out clean, she was always left aching for the man she couldn’t have. The dreams were bad enough.
She dried off and ran her hands through the rat’s nest of hair on her head. Maybe she should cut it short. Sam had liked it like this, but it was a real pain at times. With the baby, it would be a nightmare to get up, dressed, take care of the child, and roll out to work each day. The last thing she’d need would be a twenty-minute battle trying to tame her curls. I’ll do it. It’ll be my first step to moving on without Sam—as without him as I can get sharing a child. Mitch will approve. She’s all about signs.
She went into the bedroom, pulled her skinny jeans out of the closet, and discovered she couldn’t zip them. When had that happened? She realized she hadn’t worn them since she’d moved to Alamo. It looked like she’d need new clothes. She went to the cupboard and pulled out a skirt and peasant top, one of her favorite school outfits and put it on instead. She tried to cinch a belt at her waist, but that proved impossible, too.
Why hadn’t she seen the changes earlier? Because you didn’t want to.
She went downstairs to the kitchen, made herself breakfast, and took her vitamins. She brewed herself a cup of coffee at the single brew machine she’d purchased. As she could only have one cup a day, it had been a smart investment. She used it to make the herbal teas she consumed the rest of the time. She went through the fridge, made a list of what she needed for the week, and opened her laptop to catch up on the latest news. The laptop had been a housewarming present from Mitch. The doorbell rang, and Cleo frowned. Who could be at her door at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning? Mitch wasn’t due for a half an hour, and she was rarely early. Cup in hand, Cleo walked to the front door.
Probably some kid selling something. I hope it’s chocolate.
She opened the door, a friendly smile pasted on her face. She stopped breathing, the coffee cup fell to the floor, splattering Sam’s beige pants, and the room began to spin the way it did when the tornado struck and pulled Dorothy off to Oz.
“Sam!” Everything went black.
• • •
Sam caught Cleo as she slid to the floor.
Shit. He’d known seeing him would be a surprise. He hadn’t anticipated it would scare her to death and make her faint. He’d seen the shock, horror, and fear on her face before she’d passed out. What kind of monster did she think he was?
“Charlie, a little help here.”
Sam carried his wife over to the leather couch and laid her on it. He covered her with the plaid throw he’d found there. He knelt down beside her.
“Is she okay?” Charlie’s voice was filled with concern.
Sam scrutinized Cleo. She seemed different somehow. She was pale as if she’d been sick, or was that just the after effect of seeing him? He loved her blushes, but this ashen look, not so much. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, but there was something different about her, too. She’d felt lighter in his arms. Had she lost weight? Had he caused her that much unhappiness?
“I don’t know.”
The door burst open and Mitch entered. An enraged elephant bent on death and destruction couldn’t have made more noise or looked angrier. She glared from one man to the other and then zeroed in on the couch.
“You bastard! What the hell did you do to her?”
“Calm down, Mitch,” Sam tried to placate the irate woman. “I didn’t do or say anything. I rang the bell. She opened the door, said my name, and fainted. I knew I’d surpr
ise her …”
She turned on Charlie. “How did you find us? Son of a bitch. You stalked me. You said Sam was still out of the country. Don’t you get tired of lying, Mr. Chippendale?”
“It isn’t Charlie’s fault, Mitch—or should I say Michele?”
Mitch reddened. “Mitch is fine, and that wasn’t a lie. I am Mitch Hutchins. I’m the one who told Cleo not to give her real name. Let me get some water and a cold cloth, and I’ll wake her up.”
Sam watched her go into the kitchen area, noting the room as he did. He recognized the Skywalk montage on the far wall and some of the other Grand Canyon pictures she’d blown up. It seemed his wife was quite the photographer and decorator. The little house was gorgeous and suited her.
He reached down and pushed her hair off her face. There was an ethereal quality to her today, and it worried him. Was she eating enough?
Mitch came back with a cold cloth and some water.
“Go sit out on the deck. I don’t want her fainting again. Wait! Why are you here?”
Sam stood. He didn’t want to let Cleo out of his sight, but he knew Mitch was correct. Seeing him had caused this.
“She and I need to talk.”
“You’ve got that right,” Mitch answered cryptically. “Go.”
Charlie and Sam walked out the kitchen door to the small redwood deck. Sam looked out at the fields in the distance.
“Are those mine?”
“Probably. You own almost a thousand acres around here. Mitch is pretty angry. I suppose Cleo must be too. I should have asked her why they wanted to see us. From her response in there, it looks like they know the truth about us. Damn! I’d hope to be able to explain that it was your idea.”
“I know, and I’ve never regretted anything more in my entire life. God, she’s got to listen to me. When I saw the look on her face, I wanted to die. She hates me, Charlie. She hates me.”
• • •
Cleo heard Mitch’s voice calling her from what seemed to be miles away. She focused on the sound and opened her eyes.
“What happened?”
“Apparently you passed out—must be a side effect of your condition. You don’t handle surprises well.”
Cleo frowned and tried to remember what had happened. She’d had breakfast and someone had been at the door. Her eyes opened wide, and she sat up.
“Sam! I saw Sam at the door. I must be losing my mind.”
“You’re not, Cleo. He’s here. I sent him and Charlie out to the porch. Nice of him to bring his lawyer partner in crime with him. Well, at least you’ll get your papers and you can work something out about the baby. Sam says he wants to talk to you. I’ll give him one thing. He looked devastated when he was kneeling beside the couch.”
“He’s probably afraid I’m going to cause a scandal. Let me go upstairs and clean up. I knew I’d have to confront him. I just thought I’d have more time.”
She ran her hand across her stomach and felt the slight swell of their child.
In the bathroom she washed her face and tried to tidy her hair. She looked into the mirror at the stranger with the haunted eyes and pale face looking back at her. It wouldn’t do. With a surprisingly steady hand, she added blusher to her face and lip gloss. She didn’t dare add mascara. Brave as she might try to pretend to be, there was no way she’d get out of this without tears. The image in the mirror didn’t look as confident as she’d hoped. She opened the door to go into her bedroom and change, and there he stood.
“Hello, Cleo.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat that was probably her heart.
“Sam. Sorry for the strange welcome. I wasn’t expecting you.” That was an understatement. “How was Wales?”
“Cold, wet, lonely.”
Was this what they’d become? Polite strangers discussing the weather? Hell that was nothing different. They’d always been strangers. Sam looked down at his feet and ran his hand through his hair. He’d had a haircut. He looked nervous and uncomfortable.
He probably expects me to have a hissy fit of some sort.
“I thought it might be better if we talked alone.” Sam indicated her room, the only one furnished upstairs. “Can we talk in there?”
The last place she wanted him was in her bedroom, but she also didn’t want Charlie listening when she told him about their baby. She nodded and led the way to the sitting area at one end of the room. She sat in the rocker and indicated the chair next to it.
“How’s your dad? Did he move here too?”
“Dad’s good. He’s an archaeology professor. He’s on a dig in Peru. While I was in Vegas, he went to a bereavement counseling camp, and it helped him put things in perspective like I never could. He isn’t over Mom’s death—I doubt he ever will be—but he’s starting to live again.”
“That’s great. I know you were worried about him.”
“How did you find me?” The longer he stood here like this, the more likely she was to break down.
“Through Mitch. It wasn’t easy, but eventually Charlie found out she had a mailing address in Reno. He put a PI on it a few weeks ago. When she went and collected her mail, he followed her. Once he knew who she was, he found you. If I hadn’t been so distraught, I might have realized that scribble on our marriage license was your real name, and we could have had this conversation weeks ago.”
“You were in Wales. There wasn’t anything to talk about then … well there was but …”
“Why did you run away, Cleo? Mitch knows who I am by now, so you must know too.”
She tried to keep her eyes from tearing, but it was like trying to put the toothpaste back into the tube.
“I was scared. I thought you were a stripper. I’m an elementary school teacher. I couldn’t tell you who I was or where I lived. I was paranoid someone would take my picture, our picture, and post it online. Teachers live under a moral double standard. It doesn’t matter that whatever we do is legal, what matters is that someone else thinks it’s morally wrong. We know it’s there when we go into teaching. It’s not fair, and it does affect our lives. Guilt by association is enough to get my license to teach revoked. I was afraid I’d lose my job, a job I love. I knew Dad would be upset too. Sam, try to understand. I was half-drunk, hung over, and scared to death. I needed time to think. Running away seemed like the only thing to do. Then I discovered your lie. Why did you do it?”
“It was a stupid reason. I told you about my ex-fiancée. She was one in a long line of women who were more interested in my wallet than me. Hiding my identity seemed to be a way around that. I hadn’t planned to do it, but then Mitch jumped to the conclusion we were Chippendales. Once I got to know you, I realized my wealth might actually be a roadblock, so I put off telling you again. I was going to tell you Sunday afternoon, but you’d gone.”
She sighed. “It doesn’t matter now. We’re from different worlds. It can never work, and I’m not proud of agreeing to be a one-night stand.”
He stood and walked over to the wall where she’d mounted the pictures she’d taken of the canyon. She watched him examine each one carefully before he turned back to her.
Despite his tan, he was pale. His eyes shone with unshed tears. His forehead was creased as if he was in pain, and his lips were pressed tightly together. His face mirrored her own anguish. What she wouldn’t give to turn back the clock, but that was an impossible dream.
“Cleo, I have a lot of sins in my past, but you were never a one-night stand to me. That day we spent together was the most amazing day of my life. I’ll never be able to apologize for lying to you the way I did, but I’d like you to give me a chance to make it up to you.”
“That was the most incredible day of my life, and I don’t regret a single moment of it. You made me feel as if I were the most important person in the world. I understand the marriage was an accident, a moment of drunken exuberance that went too far. But I’m fine, really I am. My job pays well, and the house is mine, free and clear. I’m not going to sue you fo
r breach of promise or go after you for alimony. It’s not my style. I hope we can be friends though. It’ll make things easier.”
She watched the color drain from his face, and it was like a blow. He didn’t even want to be friends. The tears that brimmed her eyes started to fall and she turned away, hoping to hide them from him.
“You want a divorce, even after you know the truth about me?” His voice was hoarse.
“Don’t I already have one?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. “I was going to file, but I figured your lawyers would see to it, and as you didn’t know where to find me …” She tried to keep her tone even so he wouldn’t know she was on the verge of breaking down completely.
She felt his hands on her shoulders. Heat ran from his palms through her skin and pooled low in her belly. He stood so close behind her, if she turned she’d be in his arms, the place she wanted to be.
“You’re still my wife, Cleo. I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I’m asking you to give me one. I promise I’ll never lie to you again, and I’ll do anything in my power to make this up to you.”
Cleo turned and stepped back to look at him. She couldn’t think with his hands on her. “Why?”
“Why?” The word, filled with frustration, exploded from him, and she jumped back surprised by the passion in it.
“Because I love you, you crazy, wonderful, foolish, stubborn woman. Because you make me feel alive as no one else ever has. You make me a better person, and I can’t imagine another minute of my life without you. I haven’t been able to do anything since you left me. Look at this.” He opened his jacket and handed her a piece of paper.
Cleo unfolded the drawing and gasped. It was a sketch of her, but the woman in the picture was far lovelier than she was certain she was. She stared at the sketch, trying to understand what it meant.
“You’re on my mind all the time. I’ve drawn dozens of pictures like that, but I haven’t managed to finish a single design. We both had a lot to drink that night, but I didn’t marry you because I was drunk. I knew exactly what I was doing, and if you’d stayed around, I would have told you so. You don’t remember any of it, do you?”
Just for the Weekend Page 19
