by Tanya Stowe
“Exactly what has he done for you? Maybe you should ask yourself what he received in exchange for his kindness. You are the boss’s daughter.”
Anger filled her. “You have no right to insult him just because you’re looking for some action.”
He stiffened, and his gaze grew hard. “I’m going to let that insult pass because I know you’re confused and just a little afraid. Well, Lara, so am I.” Grasping her arms, he pulled her close and kissed her again.
Fire raced through her veins. A tingling started deep inside and she weakened, felt the need for more. She was just warming up, reaching for Alex when he broke the kiss.
“It’s real and it’s very powerful. Our hearts long to be together.” He looked into her eyes, and she was sure he could see her soul. “We’d both be crazy not to be frightened by it. But we’d also be crazy to walk away from it.” He ran his fingers over her moist lips. “Come fly with me, Lara. I promise you’ll never regret it.” His hand fell away. Then he walked from the room.
Lara closed her eyes and stood motionless until her heart stopped pounding. After a few minutes, she retrieved her towel from the floor and tucked it in her bag. Her hands still trembled. Looping the strap over her shoulder, she headed downstairs.
She and Brett had become friends instantly, almost from the day he started working for her father, before the accident. She’d had a schoolgirl crush on him. She told things to Brett she’d never even told her friends. Half the fun of coming home from school was seeing Brett and telling him all the news.
After the accident, he’d been a lifeline. He was the only bright light in her life, and she’d clung to him. To his credit, he hadn’t abandoned her. While other young men enjoyed New York’s social scene, Brett spent time with an invalid. Highly unusual. Maybe even suspect.
No. She wouldn’t allow Alex’s nasty little seed to take root. He was wrong. Brett hadn’t used her to gain influence with her father and access to her money. She refused to believe it. Lara’s musings brought her to the guesthouse. She paused as she opened the door and heard raised voices.
Across the room, Troy and Brett were faced off.
“I don’t care how you justify it,” Troy said. “We’ve missed the mark. Everything Summers said was true. We wanted to create a school for all artists. What we’ve done is create one that’s exclusive.”
Brett’s sigh was audible to Lara as she stood in the open door. “It’ll be the best school in the west…maybe even the world…for young, developing artists.”
“For young, affluent artists, Brett. Don’t you see the difference? We should have allotted the money for dormitories and consulted a specialist about curriculum. If Sara were alive this wouldn’t have happened.”
“You’re right. It wouldn’t. But she’s not alive and Daniel won’t give us any more money. What should we have sacrificed to hire an education consultant or to build more buildings? The equipment? The beautiful building which you considered so elemental to the artistic environment? Just what would you have changed?” Brett’s angry words echoed in the room.
Lara stood frozen to the spot, wishing for all the world she’d not stepped in at just that moment—and wishing even more that she’d left before Brett turned and saw her.
Immediately, the anger left his features.
Seeing his surprise, Troy turned.
Both men shuffled awkwardly as Lara stood within the open doorway.
After a moment, Troy cleared his throat. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have sacrificed anything. I would have wanted the best of everything. And that, my friend,” he said, slapping Brett’s shoulder, “is why you’re in charge of the money and I’m just the artist. I’ll go see if Eliza needs help for tonight.” Tugging his jacket together, he walked toward Lara and kissed her forehead.
“I’m sorry. This was bad timing,” she whispered.
“Don’t be. He’s right. I wouldn’t have compromised, and we wouldn’t even be this far in the process.” He smiled. But his sad little smile made her feel worse.
Suddenly, she hated compromises. Hated settling for second best…in business or in love. After he’d gone, she turned to Brett. “Surely there’s a way to find more funds.”
Brett shoved his hands in his pockets. “You don’t understand, Lara. I’m already out on a limb. I’ve committed funds your father didn’t approve.”
Surprise washed through Lara.
Her father was a perfectionist and a strict employer. He demanded total obedience. The Brett she knew would never make a financial move without her father’s explicit approval and consent. Why would he risk so much for this project?
Had Troy been so persuasive?
Did Brett believe in this project so much, he was willing to push her father’s envelope? Or was he simply that confident in his position at Fallon Enterprises? Alex’s insinuations echoed in her thoughts.
“Well,” she said, searching for another answer. “It can’t be so bad. Surely, there was money for your discretionary use. Dad trusts you.”
“Of course, he trusts me. That’s why I was able to wire New York and get the money without his signature. Now I have to tell him I spent it.”
Lara swallowed hard, thinking about the implications. Daniel Fallon was not an easy man to defy. To her knowledge, this was the first time Brett had ever questioned her father’s authority, let alone bucked it. Still, he was remarkably detached, almost as if he’d already discovered the solution to his problem.
“This week is all about sponsors,” she said, probing for the answer. “You can use the money coming in to replace what you took from the account.”
“I could have. That’s why I approved hiring Summers. I thought if he was as spectacular as everyone said, he’d be a hit and the good will would spill over into our sponsors’ donations. But after his little speech this morning, I doubt anyone will drop a dime.”
And just a few minutes ago, she had let the “hit of the event” kiss her. Guilt twisted inside her.
At the same time, something about Brett’s attitude caught her attention. Something in his tone when he spoke about Alex sounded bitter or sarcastic, not like Brett at all. But then, Brett had responded strangely to Alex from their first encounter this morning. Had they met before and not gotten along? Or worse, had he seen her and Alex together and witnessed the attraction exploding between them?
She waited for Brett to say something more…anything.
But he stood facing the window, almost as if he’d forgotten she was there. He was incredibly calm for a man whose career might be on the line…as if he really didn’t believe anything bad would happen. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he believed Daniel Fallon would never take punitive action against a man who was to be his son-in-law.
Suddenly, Lara was sick inside. Unable to face Brett with her doubts or her guilt, she mumbled something about a shower and headed toward her room.
7
Lara halted her pacing by the dance room window and glanced one more time at her watch. Nine thirty.
Christy was half an hour late.
Lara should have expected it, did expect it. But still, disappointment crept through her. Gripping her fingers, she stared out the window. She had to get hold of herself. If she were honest, she had to admit Christy wasn’t to blame for her heightened emotions. And it wasn’t disappointment. It was fear. Her carefully constructed world was falling apart around her.
Christy had changed.
Eliza and Troy were in serious financial trouble.
Brett, whom she’d always considered a rock of stability, had put his career in jeopardy and was making bad decisions.
All of their actions were so out of character, so unexpected.
Lara felt as if she’d stepped into a grim, fairy tale world. Everything was going off course, out of kilter, and she was desperate to get it back on track. Helping Christy had become so important, she was ready to jump down the girl’s throat for being late. It was too much to put on one lonely, frightened chil
d.
Lara was feeling lost and frightened, too. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath to calm herself.
Troy walked away from the house toward the thick brush of the forest at the back. Just as he reached the edge, he paused and looked back. He scanned the whole house, as if searching to see if anyone was watching. His actions were so furtive, so clandestine.
A whisper of unease brushed Lara’s senses. She eased back from the window just far enough not to be seen.
Troy stepped into the bush, moving toward the thicker pine trees. At the same time, a flash of white and movement within the bush caught Lara’s eye from another direction.
Troy was meeting someone in the trees…someone he didn’t want to be seen with, judging by his behavior.
Lara stepped forward, leaning into the window for a better view, but Troy and his partner disappeared out of her sight. She stalked toward her bag, determined to find out who Troy was meeting.
After stuffing the towels inside her bag, she rolled the two mats she’d stretched out on the floor—just in time to hear wheels moving over the tiles in the hallway.
The door opened, and Christy pushed her way into the room.
Lara rose to her feet. She needed to follow Troy, but his daughter sat slumped in her wheelchair, looking as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders.
Christy focused on her lap. “I had a hard time finding something comfortable to wear,” she muttered. Her tone wasn’t apologetic, but it wasn’t belligerent, either.
“I understand,” Lara said. “Are you comfortable?”
Christy shrugged.
Lara remembered feeling the same way. After so much pain, when one’s body found a comfortable place, it refused to move. Each step required sheer willpower.
With one last, regretful look toward the window, Lara unrolled the mats she’d put away only seconds earlier. “Can you get out of your chair?”
“Sure. I can do everything. I just get tired really easy.”
“Well, maybe that’s because you’re not using those muscles.”
“That’s what my mom says.” Christy locked the wheels, pushed the footrests back, and stood. Using the chair for support, she eased herself onto the floor.
Lara shoved the chair out of the way. “How long have you been using the chair?”
Christy shrugged. “A month. Maybe two.”
Scooting over, Lara gave the girl a warm smile. “I need to feel your arms and legs, so just relax.” She slid her hands up and down, gently pressing. Christy’s muscles did not appear to have atrophied in the time she’d been using the chair. A good sign. “We’re going to start out real easy, Christy. I’ll show you the exercise, you’ll practice, and then we’ll do it together for several counts. How does that sound?”
Another non-committal shrug.
Lara crossed her legs.
Christy had to use her hands to pull both legs close to her body and into place.
The child was stiffer than Lara had anticipated. Lara straightened, placed her hands on opposite sides of her legs and twisted her lower back.
Christy dutifully complied. Her face screwed into a tight frown and sweat popped on her brow. Emotional stress could cause the excruciating swelling and stiffening known to R.A. sufferers as flares.
Lara turned on the CD, but she couldn’t seem to distract Christy from her discomfort. After less than a half hour, Lara feared they’d have to call it quits.
A knock on the door caught both their attention.
Alex strode into the room, looking wonderful in a white T-shirt, blue jeans, and tennis shoes. He carried a beautiful, twelve-string guitar. He flashed his incredible grin, oozing vitality and strength.
Christy’s face brightened.
Lara was glad for the reprieve.
“I’ve a favor to ask,” he said, crouching down to their level. “I’ve been trying to work in another room but I’m not having much luck. Since we’re all trying something new and challenging, maybe it would help if we worked side by side.”
“You’re just playing your guitar.” Christy asked. “What’s so hard?”
“I’m writing a new song, and I can’t seem to get it right.”
“You mean you just sit down and play?” Christy’s eyes widened. “Just like that, you make a song?”
Alex nodded. “It’s how I do it.”
“But don’t you need a computer or maybe even a pen and paper to write it down?”
“Nope. I promise I won’t disturb you or interrupt your workout. I’ll just sit over there by the window and play.”
“I guess it’s OK,” she said.
“Thanks, ladies.” Alex rose. Scooping a chair out of a corner of the room, he placed it in the middle of the bright, sunny window. He tucked the guitar beneath one arm and bent over it. Sharp, discordant sounds came when he plucked at the strings. He continued to strum up and down in scales, and slowly but surely, clear notes wafted in the air. A melody flowed out, but was aborted. He started again, only to come to the same abrupt end. He paused, began with a different tune, a more familiar, popular tune. He cut it short and flowed into the same original melody, which stopped at the same place. He looked up, saw them watching him and leaned forward, resting his arm on the guitar. With a slight smile, he said, “I won’t disturb you, if you won’t disturb me.”
Lara turned her back to Alex and wiggled her eyebrows in an “Oh, brother” expression.
Christy giggled.
Lara launched into the workout routine.
As she worked, Christy stole glances over Lara’s shoulder. She relaxed with Alex’s music and her movements came easier. Soon she was flowing from one effort to the next without the winces of pain.
Lara noted it, but said nothing.
Leaning forward, Christy whispered, “Listen to the song.”
Lara listened.
Alex played low, pulsating chords with Lara’s movements and high pitched ones with Christy’s exercises. When they worked together, the tones blended into a rhythmic melody.
“It sounds like us, doesn’t it? Do you think he’s making a song about us?” Christy whispered.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Lara replied.
Awed, Christy unabashedly watched Alex. She slipped thoughtlessly from movement to movement, swaying to the tune. Intent on the song, Christy didn’t seem to realize what she was doing.
After a while, Lara called a halt to the workout.
“Already?” Christy asked, turning to Lara with obvious surprise.
“We’ve been doing this for an hour and a half. I don’t want to wear you out on our first day together.”
“I’ve been moving for an hour and a half?”
Lara nodded. “How do you feel? Are you tired?”
“I feel—” Christy stared at her blankly.
Lara rose to her feet and then pulled Christy up.
The younger girl looked at Lara. A slow smile crawled over her lips. “I did it, didn’t I?”
Lara returned the smile. “Yes, you did.”
Christy motioned toward Alex with her head. “Did you plan this with him?” she whispered.
“I didn’t want an audience anymore than you did.”
“You got that right. I think we were the entertainment,” Christy replied.
Lara placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “All I know is it worked.”
Christy burst into a brilliant smile. “Yeah, it worked.”
Alex had stopped playing.
Christy turned to him. “I think since we get along so well together when we work, we should relax together, too.”
He rose, stretching his long body as he stood. “I could use a little relaxation. What did you have in mind?”
“My nurse will make me spend at least an hour in the spa. You guys could come with me. It’s a part of the pool, and it looks down on the valley. It’s really cool.”
Alex smiled. “As cool as my music?”
Laughing, Christy shook her hea
d. “That’s way cool. The pool’s just neat.”
He lifted the guitar. “Let me put this away, and I’ll meet you in ten minutes.”
Christy turned to Lara. “How long will it take you?”
Lara dug in her bag. “I won’t be able to come, Christy. I’ve got some things I need to do.”
“Aw, come on, Lara. We have to celebrate. You can come for a half hour, can’t you?”
“I don’t have a swimsuit,” Lara said, barely above a whisper.
“Oh, is that all?” Christy grinned. “Don’t worry. Mom’s always got extras around in different sizes. She does it on purpose.” Christy’s exuberant expression faded. “Oh, Lara, I’m sorry. I forgot you don’t wear swimsuits because of the scars.”
Alex had crossed the room by now and stood beside Christy. “What scars?”
Lara didn’t answer, couldn’t meet his gaze. She fiddled with her towel, wrapping it around her neck.
“On her legs, from all of her surgeries.” Christy had no qualms about filling him in. “She says they’re everywhere and look really bad.”
“Ahhh,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’d forgotten.”
There was a short, stilted pause.
Lara didn’t dare look at Alex.
“But didn’t we already decide what’s on the inside is more important? What’s a few scars between friends?”
The last time she’d used a towel to brush off the perspiration, he’d taken it and tenderly wiped it across her skin. His gaze said he’d like to do it again.
At the memory of his touch, a slow burn kindled somewhere deep inside her. Her fingertips started to tingle, and her face flushed warm. She wanted to step into his embrace and let the fire consume her. Confused, she dropped the towel into the open bag and propped her hands on her hips. She needed a few seconds to regain control. Taking a breath, she turned to Christy. “The scars aren’t important.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. “And if I hadn’t already promised Brett I’d meet him at the school, I’d love to sit in the spa with you.”
“Brett can’t wait a little while?”
“Brett and I have been waiting quite a while to be together, don’t you think, Christy?”
