True Colors

by Diana Palmer

  "Thechild," she gasped, her fingernails biting into Meredith's hand, her eyes tormented. "Thechild, Meredith!"

  "Try not to move around," Meredith said quietly. "You'll be all right."

  Tears blurred the older woman's eyes, making Meredith feel even worse than she already did. "I'msorry," she got out before her eyes closed again.

  "So am I," Meredith said dully, her face going hard as she confronted the result of her attempt to play God. Justifying her actions was going to be harder than she'd ever dreamed. If anything happened to Myrna, there would be no stopping Cy. What had seemed simple before was now a complicated, horrible mess.

  The ambulance seemed to take forever, and Cy paced and smoked when he wasn't accusing Meredith silently and verbally for his mother's incapacity. When it arrived he ushered the attendants in and stood guard over them while they loaded his mother into the ambulance. Then he climbed in beside her, leaving the directors and Meredith and all the threats behind.

  He held his mother's cold hand as they roared toward the hospital, his mind whirling with new knowledge. Meredith had certainly found her feet, he thought bitterly. Kip Tennison. Henry's wife. Henry Tennison's hidden treasure. And as his mother had said, probably the reason Tennison had tried so hard to bury him. He'd been carrying out Kip's revenge, Meredith's revenge, for the pain and anguish he'd caused her.

  He'd pushed her out of his life and sent her running apparently right into Henry Tennison's arms. So much for her profession of love, he thought bitterly. She'd loved him so much that she'd married another man almost immediately and given him a child. He hadn't known who Kip Tennison was, but he'd certainly heard about her. It was common knowledge in business circles that Henry Tennison's devotion to his business came a poor second after devotion to his pretty young wife. They said Henry had kept her hidden from all eyes but his own, he was so besotted with her. There were also rumors that his devotion was returned, that no one believed Kip had married him for any reason other than love.

  The gossip hadn't been of much interest to him at the time. Now it assumed paramount importance. Meredith had remarried, had been desperately in love, her husband had died. And there was, obviously, fruit of that love. He'd watched the little dark-haired boy running to her, heard him call her "Mommy." Something in him turned to ashes at the memory. He'd rarely ever thought of children, but when he had, they were always his and Meredith's. The pain almost doubled him over as he realized how complete her revenge was.

  A moan caught his attention. He lifted his mother's blue-veined hand in his and held tight. "Hello," he said gently, smiling down at her.

  She moaned again. Tears were staining her cheeks. "Cy, the child," she whispered. "Did you seethe child?"

  He scowled in concern. She must be rambling. "Mother, how do you feel?"

  "What?" She opened her eyes wider and looked at him. "I fainted."

  "Yes, you did," he said. "We're on the way to the hospital."

  "But it was just a faint."

  "We'll let the doctor tell us that," he told her firmly. "You just lie back and be still. You'll be all right now."

  She clenched her fingers around his. "Meredith," she began.

  "Quite a surprise, wasn't it?" he asked, his voice bitter. "I actually gave her a job waitressing. She could buy the restaurant out of her petty cash fund, if their last annual statement was any indication of the corporation's assets."

  Myrna was just beginning to realize that. Her bribe of twenty thousand dollars must have amused Meredith no end. She hadn't known, hadn't dreamed, who Meredith was. Now the surprise continued to echo through her frail body like a gunshot. The past had caught up with her. Not only had Meredith borne Cy's child, she still had him. Cy didn't know. He assumed that the little boy was Henry Tennison's, and if Myrna told him the truth, her own guilt would have to be revealed. It would mean destroying their tenuous relationship. Worse, it would lock the child into a custody battle the likes of which the Hardens and Tennisons had never seen.

  Could she do that, even to obtain her grandchild? Could she allow the little boy to become nothing more than a pawn, to satisfy her hunger for a grandchild, for Cy's son to carry on the Harden name?

  She put a hand over her face. So much deceit. So many lies. Meredith had said that it was finished, that her thirst for revenge was over. She obviously planned to take the child back home with her and forget about Cy and Myrna. But now Myrna couldn't forget. She had a grandson whom she would never know. Cy had a son whose very existence was unknown to him. That was Myrna's fault. He wouldn't forget, how could he? But by withholding the information, she would be damaging him even more than she already had.

  "Don't worry so," he chided, bending to kiss her forehead. Her consciousness gave him hope, relieving some of the strain of worry on his hard face. "I'm not going to sit back and let Meredith take our company away."

  "I never thought you would," Myrna whispered. Her eyes closed. "Even if it would be no less than I deserved"

  He frowned, but she was drifting in and out again, and he let it go. Her behavior worried him. It wasn't like his mother to let things get her down, but Meredith's revelation had affected her more than anything else in recent years. In fact, Meredith's very presence in Billings had upset her. He wondered what secret the two women shared that had driven Meredith to secrecy and plotting, that had reduced his mother to a frightened shell. But before he could worry the subject too much, they were pulling into the emergency room parking lot.

  In the car back to Mary's house, Meredith sat on the seat next to Blake.

  "That lady fainted, Mommy," he said. "Why did she faint? Did I scare her?"

  "No, darling, she'd just had a shock," Meredith said stiffly. "Now sit here like a good boy and listen to your new tape." She plugged the headphones in for him.

  "Didn't she know about Blake?" Don asked Meredith.

  "Not until tonight, not for sure, anyway," she said wearily. "I never meant for her to know at all. If it hadn't been for the flat tire, I was just going to pack up and leave town."

  "Tough break," he said.

  "Yes." She lifted her eyes to his. "Will the board go for our offer?"

  "I doubt it," he said, but with an odd uneasiness. He stretched. "They'll bulldoze Cy into those mineral leases, but I don't think they'll go along with new management or yield to a hostile takeover. Not even at the price we're offering." Not yet, anyway, he was thinking. He still had plans, and neither Meredith nor Cy could be allowed to know what they were until he was ready to spring his own surprise on both of them.

  "As long as something good comes out of this, I don't mind," she said.

  "You look drawn," he murmured, his expression faintly guilty. "This has been rough on you, hasn't it?"

  She didn't look at him. "Yes. Ididn't mean to upset Mrs. Harden that much. I didn't think"

  "She'll be all right."

  "Oh, Don, I do hope so," she said, remembering Cy's pained face. Even though things between them were strained and hostile, she didn't really want to cause him any more anguish.

  Later that night she phoned the hospital, to be told that Mrs. Harden was simply suffering from exhaustion and was doing very well. It was the only bright spot in a horrible day.

  At least she hadn't caused Cy's mother to have a heart attack. But now she had another problem. Myrna had seen Blake. Would she tell Cy the truth? And if she did, what then?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  » ^ «

  Meredith had tried to get Don to stay the night, but he was adamant about getting back to Chicago for an important meeting the next morning. Just as well, Meredith thought. McGee could watch him once he was back in Chicago. She wanted his companionship no more than he wanted hers. The gloves were finally off. He took the corporate jet out barely an hour after they left the Harden Properties building, leaving a subdued Meredith to deal with Blake.

  Mr. Smith left the limousine in the driveway. There was no longer any need to pretend, and if eyebrows were rais
ed at the rented limousine, it no longer mattered.

  Blake was still asleep when Meredith dragged herself out of bed late the next morning to cook breakfast.

  "You should get a maid," Mr. Smith remarked as he nibbled bacon while Meredith took biscuits out of the oven. "You look out of place in the kitchen."

  She glanced at him with a wan smile. He looked out of place in a kitchen himself, in his jeans and olive drab T-shirt. But he could cook better than she could.

  "We do what we must," she reminded him. She pushed back the untidy plat of her long blond hair and sat down at the table, like him in jeans and T-shirt. Except that now the jeans had a designer label, and the T-shirt was silk. "Have a biscuit."

  He reached for one just as an impatient hand pounded on the back door.

  "I'll get it," Mr. Smith said, ignoring her impulsive movement.

  He opened the door and Cy gave him a hard glare as he walked into the kitchen, tossed his Stetson onto the clean counter and sat down.

  Meredith was totally stunned. She couldn't even speak. She hadn't expected to see Cy again, and certainly not here, not after last night.

  "Make yourself at home," she said finally.

  "Haven't I always?" he asked carelessly. He scowled at Mr. Smith, who sat back down with his usual imperturbability and began to eat his breakfast. "Am I interrupting anything?" he added.

  "Just breakfast," she said. "Get a plate if you want some."

  He did, to Smith's irritation, and filled it.

  "How is your mother?" she asked.

  He lifted his dark eyes to hers. "She'll be all right. It wasn't a stroke, thank God."

  She pushed the eggs around on her plate. "I'm glad."

  "What the hell is going on between you two?" he asked flatly, watching her jerk in surprise. "I've never seen my mother faint, but she went white as a ghost last night after yourrevelation. What have you got on her that makes her so afraid of you?"

  "Nothing that should worry her," she told him. "I've given up vendettas. They're too wearing."

  "I'm sorry to hear that," he mused, watching her. "I've been looking forward to the fireworks when you try to pry my company out of my hands."

  "You don't think I can?" she asked with faint cynicism.

  "No. But you're welcome to try," he added.

  "Thank you so much for your permission." She put down her fork. "You withheld those mineral leases against the advice of your attorney and your directors. And you did it for less than business reasons."

  "Of course I did," he agreed. He lit a cigarette, ignoring the glares he got. "I didn't understand why Henry Tennison went out of his way to antagonize menot until last night—but handing over those leases went against the grain. I don't do favors for the enemy."

  "The enemy had you outflanked this time," Meredith said, smiling at him. "Caught you off guard, I daresay."

  He nodded, his eyes narrowing. "I was diverted."

  The way he said it brought color to her cheeks.

  "Mommy!"

  The laughing voice brought her head around as a pajama-clad Blake wandered in, dragging his stuffed rabbit by the ear and rubbing his eyes. "Mommy, I got woked up," he murmured, leaning against her.

  Her eyes grew tender as she lifted him onto her lap and cuddled him, smiling at the sleepy face.

  Cy had to bite down hard to keep his temper. Henry Tennison's child, and the love in her face was impossible to hide. She'd looked at him like that once, with that same soft wonder. He'd withdrawn from it, not trusting her, and pushed her out of his life. Now he was just beginning to realize what he'd thrown away. He didn't like feeling second best.

  Smith saw the expression on the younger man's face. Jealousy. He knew the look.

  Cy glanced in his direction, dark eyes glittering. He hated the idea of Smith more than he envied the child. It disturbed him to see the man sitting so comfortably with Meredith, living with her.

  "Tiny's in the washing machine, Mr. Smith," Blake murmured. "Does she want a bath?"

  "Let's go see. Up and at 'em, boy." He took Blake from Meredith, his face softening as the boy grinned at him. "I'll get him dressed."

  "Thank you," she said.

  Cy watched them go, gazing at the child with cold hunger. He and Meredith might have eventually had a child together if things had been different. He might have looked like that. He almost winced. He doubted if he'd ever have a child, because marriage wasn't in his vocabulary. God knew, none of the women he'd dated over the years had even wanted them. Only Meredith. Why hadn't she told him that she and Tennison had a child together? He felt betrayed, wounded to the bone.

  "Who's Tiny?" he asked stiffly.

  "Mr. Smith's iguana," she replied. "Why are you here?"

  He fingered his coffee cup and sighed. "I didn't have anywhere else to go," he said.

  She couldn't let him get to her. She didn't dare. Her eyes fell to his hands, long-fingered and dark-skinned. She remembered the feel of them so well.

  "I'm sorry about your mother."

  "She'll be all right." He finished his coffee and his cigarette and stared at her. "Did you love your husband?"

  "Yes," she said. "It's easy to love people who care about you. Henry treated me like fine china. He spoiled me, protected me, loved me with all his heart." She glanced down, feeling the grief all over again. "He was so alone."

  He drew in a sharp breath. "He hid you out, didn't he? That's why I couldn't find you."

  She nodded. "Looking back, I suppose he could quite easily have found out about any criminal charges and fixed them. He could have solved all my problems in an hour or so. But as my brother-in-law once said, Henry had ulterior motives for not wanting you to find me." She looked up at him. "He would have done anything to keep me."

  Cy didn't find that surprising. He could barely drag his eyes away from her face. "By then you were pregnant, weren't you?"

  This was shaky ground. She had to feel her way. "Yes," she replied. "Blake was Henry's whole world." If only he'd say something, anything, about Blake! But he couldn't know that Blake was his child. He seemed to be trying to pretend that the child wasn't even here.

  "And yours?"

  She smiled softly. "Oh, yes. And mine. He's the reason I get up in the morning."

  "Does your lifestyle leave you much time for him?" he asked. "Oh, yes" he nodded when he saw her surprise "I know what the demands are. Meetings, trips, conferences, snags in business deals, wining and dining clients, coaxing directors to vote your wayI do that every day of my life. But I don't have a child to neglect."

  "I don't neglect my son," she said hotly.

  "You've been here for over a month," he returned.

  "And I've talked to Blake every night on the telephone."

  "How nice for him."

  Her fingers clenched on the table. "This is just what I need," she flared. "A bachelor telling me how to raise my child!"

  "If I had one, I'd make damned sure he didn't grow up by himself."

  "You're insinuating"

  "What's the rabbit's name?"

  She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

  "His stuffed rabbit. What does he call it?"

  She knew, but he had her rattled and she couldn't immediately remember.

  He cocked an eyebrow at her flush. "Well, that says it all, doesn't it?" he asked.

  "My son is none of your business," she muttered.

  "I agree. Henry Tennison's son is the least of my worries right now," he added coldly. "My mother wants to see you."

  So that was why he'd come. She wouldn't admit to herself that she'd hoped it was for any other reason. "Why?" she asked.

  "I have no idea. But she's in for observation and tests for at least two more days, and she wants to talk to you. I told her I'd ask."

  She slid the coffee cup around on the table. "We don't have anything to say to each other," she said.

  "She says you do." He leaned forward to trace patterns on the back of her hand. "Meredith, tell me what's
going on."

  Her hand withdrew gently from the arousing touch. "It's nothing to do with you," she lied.

  He caught her fingers in his and held on, his eyes flashing. "You don't want me to touch you anymore, is that it?" he asked angrily. "Now that you think you've beaten me out of my mineral leases, you don't need to pretend you want me anymore?"

  She looked at him helplessly, her heart throbbing in her chest at the contact. "It wasn'tthat," she whispered, because she couldn't bear what he was thinkingthat she'd slept with him just to keep him in the dark about her takeover plans.

  His face seemed to lose some of its tautness, and the fingers gripping hers became caressing. He looked at them, his eyes on the engagement ring that still graced her third finger, the one Henry had given her. "You were mine long before you were his," he said. "I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I suppose you were entitled to any revenge you wanted." She might not know it, and he didn't say it, but giving Tennison a child had been her best revenge. Nothing hurt him more than that child.

  He let go of her hand all at once and stood up, and the fire in his eyes went out. "Go and see Mother, if you will, so she'll stop dwelling on whatever's between you. She's nobody's idea of congeniality, but there are reasons for her lack of it. She's all I've got left."

  Her eyes closed. It hurt to hear him say it, even though she realized it was true. She didn't want to have to confront Myrna Harden again. But she wasn't going to be able to get out of it without arousing his suspicions and, perhaps, pushing Myrna into doing something desperate.

  "All right," she said. "I'll go."

  His face was as bitter as hers was sad. He scooped up his Stetson and looked down at her with quiet intensity. "You'll be leaving Billings now, I gather."

  She nodded. "I have to get back to work." She smiled ruefully. "As you say, my life is one business meeting after another. It's been difficult running things from here, despite the fax machine and the phone."

  "And the airport?" he asked. "Yes, I heard about the corporate jet traffic we've been getting from Tennison International. Now it makes sense. You went to a lot of trouble to keep me in the dark."