Moonstruck

by Julie Kenner

  He wrapped up, and MJ climbed onto the podium, and then before she could stop it, the bidding had begun.

  From a charitable point of view, the event was a success, as the number kept growing and growing.

  From the point of view of Claire’s nerves, nothing had ever been more horrible.

  As the bidding rose higher, his eyes searched the room, the steely purpose softening when his gaze landed on her. She felt that tug, a possessiveness. A claiming. And she couldn’t help the wave of pure, green jealousy that flowed through her.

  Get a grip, Claire. You’re not a couple. He’s leaving. Sooner or later, he’s going to be someone else’s anyway.

  That was an empirical fact. And yet at the moment, all Claire wanted was to change it. To make it not so.

  And when a date with Ty at that Friday’s grand opening of his club, Heaven, was won by a lanky blonde in a skintight black dress, Claire was the only one in the room who didn’t clap. Instead she stood there, her hands mere inches apart, and realized that she couldn’t do this.

  Not the auction—she could handle that.

  But this. The parting from Ty. The not being a couple.

  It wasn’t enough to say location was the problem. At the end of the day, life was about life, and love, and all that gooey stuff. She needed Ty beside her to feel alive. And as for her career—well, she wasn’t portable, but she could adjust.

  She simply needed to figure out how.

  TY HAD TO HEAD STRAIGHT to Decadent after the fund-raiser, so Claire didn’t see him after the auction other than from across the room. She’d waved goodbye, and tried to convey with her eyes that she was going to figure something out, but she doubted he got the message. Significant looks might work in movies and books, but in life they were most often missed altogether.

  Despite not seeing him, she was in a fabulous mood when she arrived at her office. She’d made a decision to figure out a way to work it out with Ty, and just knowing that she was aiming for that goal made her bounce and hum, and she entered the judge’s chamber, whistling whatever tune had been playing on the radio in her car. She’d expected Myrna, the judge’s secretary, to give her grief, but there was no one in the reception area. Frowning, she tapped on Judge Monroe’s office door, then entered when she heard her mentor’s crisp invitation.

  Myrna was in there, and they both looked at her as she stepped inside, their expressions grave.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Close the door, Myrna,” the judge said.

  “Judge Monroe…” Claire was starting to get nervous. In Judge Monroe’s chamber, a closed door was never good.

  “Have you checked your e-mails this morning? Any of the social sites you go to?”

  She shook her head, dread building. “Why?”

  “Come around here,” the judge said, pointing to the screen and moving away from the desk as if to give Claire privacy. Not a good sign, and it only got worse when she was actually able to see what was on the screen: Her and Ty, in full porn-star mode, making love against the wall of the elevator in the Starr Resort parking lot.

  She tried to speak and realized her hand was over her mouth. She forced it away. “How…Who…Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

  The judge’s brows lifted. “Sorry? Claire you haven’t a thing to be sorry about except for poor judgment. Beds and bedrooms were invented to avoid that kind of thing.”

  “It’s my fault,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to wait.”

  “Claire,” the judge said sharply. “It is not your fault. The culprit is Joe Powell, at least if a young woman named Bonita knows what she’s talking about.”

  Claire’s head snapped up. “How do you know?”

  “She called earlier. Myrna talked to her. Apparently she was hysterical. She said she’d broken up with him because of the way he fooled around and what he did to you. Naturally, Myrna asked what she meant by the last—”

  “And that’s how you learned about the picture.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Queasy, she glanced back at it, rage against Joe boiling inside her. She almost pulled her phone out. Almost called him. But she didn’t. There were a lot of Joe’s out there, and she couldn’t call every one of them every time something horrible showed up on the Internet. Basically, she needed to learn to deal.

  She drew in a breath. “Well, at least I don’t have cellulite.”

  “What do you need?” the judge asked, and despite everything—despite the horror, and the humiliation and the complete mortification—all she wanted right then was Ty.

  She hated that Joe had done such a horrible, cruel, embarrassing thing, but she did have to thank him for solidifying her feelings about Ty. Because right then, the stupid picture could go take a leap. All she cared about was the man.

  “I see,” the judge said, a grin pulling at her mouth. The woman always was too damn good at reading Claire’s expressions. “You’ll have to introduce me. I think this man may be even more remarkable in person than he is on paper.”

  “I will.” She gnawed on her lower lip, then gestured toward the screen. “I—I feel like I let you down.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” the judge said. “Because you haven’t. And the only way you could would be to hide under a rock and not confront it. To ignore it, and not learn from it.”

  Claire thought of Ty. Of getting to his side, fast and furious.

  And she thought of one thing else she had to do before that.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve learned a lot. I promise.”

  HE COULDN’T GET a hold of her. Her voice mail was full, dammit.

  Goddammed pornographic pictures and he couldn’t get a hold of Claire and tell her—what? That he was sorry? For the act itself, he wasn’t sorry at all. And Ty hadn’t had a thing to do with getting that picture up on the Internet, so what the hell did he have to be sorry about?

  Nothing.

  But he hated that Claire had to see it. Had to feel it. Had to know that people all over Dallas were now looking at her differently.

  They’d done nothing wrong, with the exception of not thinking about the damn security cameras in the elevators.

  No, there was a real culprit this time, and as he once again looked at the phone note Lucy had handed him, he felt his entire body clench with rage, a rage he was currently burning by shooting down the Stemmons freeway at a speed that was not only illegal but was probably rather idiotic.

  “Dammit.” He slapped the steering wheel and slowed the car, not willing to drag some innocent bystander into his personal glimpse of hell.

  Because that’s what this was. If photos of a kiss had almost made Claire bolt, then Penthouse quality photos were probably going to make her crawl into a cave.

  There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to make it better, but he knew what the hell he could do to at least make himself feel better, and he whipped off the highway, following Lucy’s explicit directions to a T.

  Within ten minutes, he was in the elevator on the way up to the Power Publicity offices. Within fifteen, he was being shown to Joe’s office.

  And by the twenty minute mark, he’d punched the bastard hard in the nose. “Stay out of my life,” he said. “Stay away from Claire. You pull another stunt like that, and I’ll really make it hurt. Trust me when I say that I know enough of your clients that I can ensure a significant drop in your business.”

  And then he left, the staff standing as he did, and Joe left behind, holding a bleeding nose.

  Might not be a perfect solution, but at least he felt better.

  With Claire, though, he didn’t think he could resolve his feelings quite so efficiently. With Claire, it was messy and hard, and he knew damn well she was going to try to lock him out. And that’s why he was doing the one thing she wouldn’t want him to do—he was heading straight toward her house to wait for her.

  FORTUNATELY, Malcolm Thatcher was in that day, because Claire wasn’t certain her courage would last. Bu
t she had a piece to say, and she was saying it right now even if she had to speak into his security system and have the guards play it back for him.

  “Claire,” Malcolm said, meeting her in the reception room. “Is everything all right?”

  “Have you seen today’s entry on the blog circuit?” she asked, and could tell the answer simply by the way his face clouded. “Yes, well, that’s why I’m here. Can we talk in your office?”

  “Of course.”

  He led her back to the pristine corner office, and offered her a seat. She declined, preferring to speak standing up. The trouble was, she hadn’t rehearsed what she wanted to say. She’d come straight over, her head filled with so many ideas of what to do, and now she had to sort through them all on the fly.

  “Yes, well, here’s the thing,” she began. “A very smart woman once told me that I had to make a choice. I had to figure out what’s important to me. And that’s something I already know. Always have. It’s appellate law. I’ve always loved it.”

  “Well, we’re very gratified to hear that,” Mr. Thatcher said. “But—”

  She held up a finger. “No, hear me out. I love it. And I will practice it. I’d like to do that here, but if that’s not possible, I can always find another firm. Let me be clear, too. This isn’t a question of you asking me to leave because of that stupid photo from this morning. It’s also a question of you asking me to leave because of any photos. I’ll grant you the one in an elevator was a doozy, and I’m taking full responsibility, but a photograph of Ty and me kissing? And you get all bent out of shape because he’s dated a lot? I’m sorry, but that has nothing to do with my skills as a lawyer. So unless you want to ask me to leave, please don’t ask me to avoid the papers and the blogs. Because I can’t. Not and still be around Ty. And I will be around him. Because even more than appellate law, he really is the one thing I want most in the world, and I’ll not have my behavior monitored and judged by people who really have no business addressing the subject.”

  Malcolm nodded. “Very well. Then I wish you two all the best.”

  Claire held her breath, trying not to show her disappointment at what was so clearly a brush-off.

  “Of course, I hope you feel comfortable enough with us to stay at the firm, and that you’ll allow us to rescind what was undoubtedly an ill-planned request for you to stop dating Mr. Coleman.”

  She shook her head, as if that would make the pieces fall into the proper places. “Here? Wait. What? You’re not rescinding my offer?”

  “On the contrary. You’ve only firmed in my mind the skills that attracted us to you in the first place. Passion. Persuasion.” He stood up and extended his hand. “Enjoy the rest of the term with the judge. This will blow over, Claire. These things tend to do that.”

  He was right, she thought. Scandal faded.

  Love, though—it lasted forever. And so did a life. A relationship. Or, at least it did if you nurtured it right.

  And that was something Claire intended to see to right then. Because she didn’t want to wait even one more moment to begin sharing her life with Ty.

  This time, though, she thought about what to say on the drive home. She’d call him up and invite him over, and as soon as he arrived she’d lay it all out for him. Because the truth was, she was willing to compromise. Willing to do almost anything, actually, if it meant that they could be together.

  She only hoped he was, too. Because it was that ‘almost’ that was key. And unless they each gave a little, they’d never end up together. And the fact that such a horrible possibility was looming out there scared her to death.

  She didn’t see his car when she pulled up, but that wasn’t unusual, since she’d given him access to the garage. And sure enough he was sitting at her kitchen table when she walked inside.

  “Claire,” he said, rushing to stand. “I’m so sorry. I—”

  She hushed him with a finger to his lips. “I’ve been thinking, and have something to say. I can live with my picture in the paper and on blogs. Maybe not like today—I’d like the pictures to be more G-rated—but so long as it’s clear who I am and where I stand in relation to you, then I’m okay. But it only works if we’re together. Really together. I’m not interested in enduring that kind of humiliation for a fling.”

  “You know I want more,” he said.

  “So you say, but what I can’t have is a relationship with a man who isn’t there.”

  His brow creased. “I’m here, Claire.”

  “Not when you’re in Dubai or Australia or Paris, you’re not. And the thing is, I can’t leave Dallas. I don’t want to. It’s home.” She sighed. “Actually, that’s not true. I could leave,” she said, then saw the pleased surprise pass over his face. “But only if I believed that we’d find a home together somewhere else. I won’t leave Dallas to wander like a nomad.”

  “I—”

  She shook her head. “No. Don’t answer. I’ve talked about all I can talk today, and now all I can really handle is a bath and a nap. Tomorrow,” she continued, taking his hand and walking him toward the door, then pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You think about what I’ve said, and I’ll see you at the grand opening tomorrow night.” She brushed his cheek, forcing herself not to cry, and praying that he wanted her even half as much as she wanted him. She opened the door, and stepped through it with him.

  “I love you, Ty,” she said. “And I’ll see you soon.” Then she stepped back inside, closed the door, and leaned against the heavy oak, hoping like hell she hadn’t made a mistake.

  CONSIDERING HOW much he’d managed to cram into the last twenty-four hours, Ty was amazed that he actually made it to Heaven’s grand opening in time. He’d had an obscene number of last-minute errands, not to mention an extraordinary amount of thinking to do.

  He’d even driven by his parents’ house in Plano. He hadn’t stopped, but neither had he wrecked his car or been overcome by a desire to flee the country, so he considered the journey a success.

  And, of course, he’d been making a few final, special arrangements. For one thing, he’d enlisted Matt’s help, after explaining the situation to his friend. “The ball’s in your court now,” Matt had said. “Don’t blow it.”

  When Ty had explained he was trying to not do exactly that, Matt had agreed to set himself up as stand-in bachelor material, subject to winner Alicia Barksley’s approval. Fortunately, Alicia was a romantic, who appreciated the story Ty told. More than that, though, she liked the limousine and the stand-in.

  So that, at least, had worked out well.

  But the rest? The part that involved Claire? Never once had it occurred to Ty that she wouldn’t be home, and now he felt like an idiot standing in front of a house with a limo behind him.

  “Idiot.” Of course, was what he was, and as soon as he saw Claire, he intended to make certain that she knew he realized it.

  In the meantime, he had to get to the opening, and after sticking a note for Claire between the frame and the door, he headed back to the limousine and poured himself a Scotch. Considering the crowd he would be speaking to tonight—considering what he was going to say—he needed all the help he could get.

  When he arrived, Heaven looked fabulous. His staff had done an amazing job, and the signage colors seemed to leap off the building and into the dark, giving the place a celestial glow.

  Beautiful, especially with the soft glow of the full moon shining down on them.

  He only wished Claire were there to see it with him.

  His eyes scanned the crowd waiting to enter the club, but he didn’t find her, and the weight of loneliness settled on him. How many of these had he done by himself? He didn’t know, but now, it felt like he couldn’t continue without her by his side.

  The podium, however, was set up, and it was almost showtime. He really had no choice.

  Slowly, the limo traveled up the narrow service driveway, and Ty emerged to a wild round of applause.

  He held up his hands, both in ack
nowledgment and to make them stop, and after a few minutes, the crowd calmed.

  “Don’t let the podium and the crowd fool you,” he said, as the press conference began. “I’m going to be brief, because I know that most of you are here for one reason, and one reason only—to get inside and dance.”

  A raucous cheer rose from the crowd, and he let his eyes survey the group once again. Still no Claire.

  “But first, I want to tell you about a very special woman. Some of you have probably already seen pictures of her—and if so, well, you know how beautiful she is,” he added wryly. “But what you may not know is who she is. Her name is Claire,” he said simply. “And she’s the woman I love.”

  This time, when he searched the crowd, he did find her. Her eyes were bright with surprise, and her mouth was slightly parted, as if she wanted to tell him something, and didn’t know how to put it into words. Around her, a small group stepped back, looking at her, rather than him.

  “Claire,” he said. “I’m sorry. And I love you.”

  I love you, she replied, mouthing the words and setting the nearby group to cheer.

  “Things change when you’re in love,” Ty continued. “Some of you may know that I’m in the process of developing a number of internationally based clubs. And that plan is still in effect, but I’m going to be delegating more to my team. Traveling less. It’s important to me that I stay home now. And this is home. Right here. Dallas.” He drew in a breath. “My hometown.”

  A hush had fallen over the crowd, but Claire could hear a faint throbbing noise. After a moment, she realized it was the beating of her own heart.

  “And in case any of you think I’m not serious,” he added, though his eyes were only on her, “I put a deposit down on a house today. That’s not to say I have to live there, or even that I have to buy it, but the wheels are in motion. Frankly, I think I already have a home in Dallas. But I guess I’ll have to wait and see on that.”