by Peggy Jaeger
Cole shook his head. She doesn’t know what real adult love is. She’d romanticized him because he was the only man she’d ever been close to, the only one she’d ever done anything with, who’d ever paid her any attention. She only imagined she loved him in that way. She doesn’t. Couldn’t.
But in the small recess of his brain, Cole felt some real doubts.
He spent the next hour sequestered in his room, unpacking and making phone calls. He’d come to realize sometime during the night he had to face Stepman and at least air his concerns about the anchor position. Luckily, the network producer had been able to pencil him in for a meeting at ten.
Then he called Sean at the Garden.
“I had a good look at that skate, lad. Tiffany was right. The blade was wobbly. I called the woman who makes ’em for us. She swears when she sent them the skates were in perfect condition. I’ve never had a problem with her before, and I don’t think this concerns her.”
“You think someone tampered with the skate?”
“Aye. I believe so. ’Twas expertly done. You can’t see any finagling from the outside. But something tells me this was done deliberately.”
“To harm Tiffany?” His heart froze.
The aging skater inhaled deeply on the other end of the line. “Maybe, aye,” he said at last. “Someone’s mad at her. Mad enough to cause her some harm, make her get an injury to pull her out of the show. Or it may just be that someone’s trying to deliberately sabotage the show. Getting the star out of the way would do it.”
“What about the Pavlov girl? The way she was spitting at Tiff would put her at the top of my list.”
“Now don’t go start making bold accusations, lad. Let me do a little pokin’ around. I’ll let you know if I come up with anything. You just take care of our girl, hear?”
Cole told him he would.
Would someone deliberately set out to hurt Tiffany? When he realized the answer was yes, his blood heated with anger.
With a glance at his watch, he saw it was time to leave.
The living room was empty and when he knocked on Tiffany’s bedroom door, the sound of the shower running met his ears. He dashed off a quick note, laid it on her pillow, and left for the studio.
Chapter Eight
When the tears finally stopped, Tiffany wiped her face clean.
She’d accidently laid bare her soul, something she’d never planned to do, but at least Cole knew now how she felt about him.
And she certainly knew how he felt about her. It was too much to ask for him to echo her words and admit his feelings for her were the same. He would only ever see her as he had that first day: a child with an innocent, needy heart.
Crushed beyond belief, and hurt more on the inside than any injury could compete with, she threw back her head and stared at herself in the mirror, recognizing the look on her face: defeat. She’d seen it there only one other time in her life, when she’d lost her first national championship to an older, more experienced skater.
He didn’t love her, couldn’t even see her for what she was, what she’d become. She’d waited all these years to hear him voice his feelings with the hope they mirrored her own. In one brief moment all the waiting was shown to be for nothing.
Defeat.
She wouldn’t let his knowing how she felt change things between them. She depended on him too much, loved him beyond measure, to allow it to change. No matter how he felt about her, Tiffany wanted him in her life. She simply couldn’t imagine a life without him.
She took another look at her herself, and a new expression reflected back at her. A strong, determined, resolute one. An expression as familiar as the back of her hand.
****
“Are you sure you’ll be okay by opening night?” Serena Cleary asked.
Tiffany rolled her eyes for the second time in as many minutes. “How many times are you going to ask me the same question, Aunt Rene?”
Serena winced. “Sorry, Sweetie. I’m a little preoccupied today.”
“Mom hates when we have three-day weekends,” thirteen-year-old Moira Cleary said.
“Especially when we all have them together,” her twin brother Padric put in.
Serena smiled at her two oldest children and then turned to her youngest. “Alistair Cleary, take that truck out of your mouth.”
The three-year-old wrenched the offending Matchbox from his lips and beamed up at his mother. “Sowwy, Mommy.”
“Dennis, I thought I told you to keep an eye on your brother.” Serena addressed the eight-year-old lolling on the couch flipping through a comic book.
“I am.”
Serena rolled her own eyes, and Tiffany laughed. “I love them all dearly, but I love them more when they’re in school. Have you had a chance to get over to the gallery yet?”
Tiffany shook her head. “But I will. Mom was telling us last night how great your new exhibit is. She especially likes the one of the kids at the lake.”
“That one’s my favorite. I’m secretly hoping no one wants to buy it so I can give it to Seamus for his birthday. You’re coming up for the party, aren’t you?”
“I already begged Sean for it off. Don’t worry.”
“Maybe now that Cole’s back he can come too.”
“Maybe,” Tiffany said, noncommittally, as she sipped her tea.
“Everything okay with Cole?”
Just as she was about to respond, Tiffany heard the key turning. “You can ask him yourself,” she said as he walked through the door.
The children descended upon him in seconds, all clamoring for hugs and kisses. He acknowledged every one, telling Padric he’d grown two feet; Dennis, he was as handsome as ever; Alistair, that his trucks were wonderful; and Moira, that she was turning out to be even lovelier than her mother, to which the adolescent blushed heatedly.
“And what about me?” Serena threw her arms around him.
“You, Serena, are a credit to your name. As always.”
Serena beamed and turned to Tiffany. “I love this boy.”
“You got my note?” He placed one hand across the back of Tiffany’s chair.
She nodded.
“How’s your leg?” he asked, pointing to where it was elevated on a chair.
“Feels much better. I don’t think it’s as swollen, either.”
“Are you using the crutches?”
“Yes, Nurse.”
He gave her ponytail a yank. “Good.”
“I hope you’ll be around longer this time, Cole, than you were the last time,” Serena said.
He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a soda. “It’s amazing how many people have said that to me over the past few days.”
“Well? Will you?” she persisted.
Cole took the seat closest to Tiffany. “Depends on a few things,” he said, his eyes focusing on her.
Tiffany snorted. “That’s his stock answer, Aunt Rene. Don’t feel slighted.”
“I don’t,” she replied. “What can I do to entice you to stay?”
Cole grinned. “Now, that’s the first response worth my while. How about dinner at your house with the whole Cleary clan Saturday night?”
“Tomorrow? In Carvan? Were you planning on coming up?”
“I was thinking about it. I haven’t seen Alaina yet, and the idea of some fresh, clean fall air sounds wonderful after being in the desert for two years. What do you say, Brat? Want to go up for the weekend?”
Tiffany stared at him. “Where did this come from?”
Cole shrugged. “Just an itch to get out of the city. I thought you might like to see your grandmother, ride your horse.” He smiled at Serena. “Have your aunt cook us one of her gourmet meals to die for.”
“Have I mentioned I love this boy?”
“Come on, Tiff,” Moira pleaded. “I never have any girls around to hang out with. I’m outnumbered between these three and Aunt Delilah and Uncle David’s three goons all the time. Please.”
Tiffany looke
d at her cousin and then at Cole.
“Come on, Brat. It’ll be fun. You know yourself how beautiful the farm is this time of year. Besides, it’ll do you good to get out of the city for a few days. Maybe it’ll even help your leg heal faster.”
“Okay,” she said, after a moment. Moira jumped up and gave her a ferocious hug.
“Now.” Serena took Cole’s hand and, batting her lashes flirtatiously, said, “Tell me what you want for dinner?”
****
Soon after Serena and her brood left, Cole told Tiffany to pack a bag.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Never mind. Just pack. I’ll be back in an hour and we can get on the road before rush hour.” He kissed her cheek and left.
Tiffany stared at the closed door in front of her, one hand lying over the area Cole had kissed. Where had this sudden urge to leave town come from?
He’d acted naturally when he’d come back from the studio. After this morning’s scene, she’d been worried he would be nervous and guarded around her. When he’d asked about her leg and then playfully pulled her hair, she’d neither seen nor felt anything worrisome in his demeanor. Being sequestered in the apartment for a few more days recuperating, with Cole acting as her nursemaid, was equal parts appealing and troublesome. Spending time alone with him, just talking and being together, was what she wanted. But she didn’t want the awkwardness that had surrounded them after she’d made her declaration that morning to hang like a black cloud over them.
Maybe Cole wanted this as well. It might explain his sudden desire to drive up to the farm and use Alaina and the Clearys as buffers.
When the confusion couldn’t be unraveled, she shook her head a few times, then hobbled into her bedroom to pack.
True to his word, an hour later Cole returned.
With her small suitcase plus his own in his hands, they walked out to the front curb of the apartment building.
“This is what you went out for?” she asked.
“Beauty, isn’t she?” He popped the hatch and tossed the suitcases in the back.
The SUV was a deep midnight blue, brand new, and spotless.
“I figured you needed something you could stretch out in, so I didn’t get my usual sport rental. She’s something, isn’t she? Drives like a dream.”
“You rented this so I’d be comfortable on the ride?”
Cole shut the hatch and came around to the passenger side to open her door. “Of course, Tiff. I knew you’d be cramped otherwise. Here, let me help you in. I put a pillow in the back seat for your leg.”
He took her arm and stopped short when she stood, rooted. “What? Don’t you like it?”
Tiffany was something she rarely was: speechless.
Her heart turned over ever so slightly. He’d done this for her, just so she’d be comfortable. To her mind, he couldn’t have done anything more thoughtful or loving.
Tiffany threw the crutches onto the floor behind the driver’s seat, reached up, and grabbed Cole’s neck. In one swift motion she pulled his head down and kissed him hard on the mouth. “I love it,” she said to his astonished face. Almost as much as I love you, she wanted to add. “Help me in.”
When he was settled in the front seat, he eyed her in the rearview mirror. “You okay?”
Tiffany smiled. “Fine. Let’s get going.”
Five minutes out of the city her eyes grew heavy. When they opened again, the car was in the driveway of the Carvan house.
“I can’t believe I slept the whole way up,” she said, stretching. “I missed all the colors.”
“Don’t worry,” Cole told her, as he reached in and helped her out. “We’ll go riding sometime this weekend, and you can see all the leaves your heart can stand.”
Tiffany held onto his arms while he pulled her crutches from the back seat. She turned toward the house when a familiar voice called out, “You two made great time.”
Using the crutches, Tiffany tottered over to a pair of outstretched arms and was immediately engulfed within them.
“Grandma. It’s so good to see you.”
Alaina MacQuire Nobel held her granddaughter at arm’s length. “Well, it’s plain to see you’re tired, but luckily you’re all in one piece. And you, young man,” she added, giving her attention to Cole. “It’s high time you came home.”
Cole smiled and took the older woman in his arms. “Just as beautiful as always, Alaina.”
A dry smile graced her face. “What did you expect? That I’d grown into a haggard old crone while you’ve been gone?”
“Never happen,” he said.
“Come into the house, then. Tiffany, can you manage the stairs with those crutches?”
“Sure, Grandma. I just have to take my time.”
Tiffany progressed slowly but surely up the porch steps, her grandmother following next to her. “You’ll do fine in a day or two, I imagine,” she said. “You’re strong as an ox and young. That’s a vital combination.”
“That’s what I keep telling some people,” Tiffany retorted, slanting her eyes at Cole. “But they think I lack judgment. I’m considered stubborn and uncooperative.”
“Nonsense. No one I know would ever think of you that way,” Alaina proclaimed.
In the foyer, she said, “Get unpacked, the two of you, and we’ll have an early supper. I understand we’re all going to Serena’s tomorrow for a feast.”
****
“Want to watch a movie?” Cole asked.
Dinner had been served and cleared, and Alaina had retired to her room.
Tiffany and Cole were in the den, her legs propped on the ottoman.
“Sure,” she answered. “What’s there?”
Cole opened the DVD cabinet and scanned the titles. One in particular caught his eye. With a grin, he said, “Here’s one of my favorites.” He plugged it in and joined her on the couch.
“What is it?”
“You’ll see.”
A second later the blue screen scanned to a wide arena shot with the audience packed to the ceiling.
“Oh God,” Tiffany groaned, putting her head in her hands.
Cole laughed.
“Do we have to?” She peeked at the television screen through her fingers.
“Yes.” Leisurely, he laid his arm on the back of the couch and around her shoulders. “Look. Now, who can that be?” he asked, theatrically.
A young, tiny, red-haired figure skated out to center ice amid the shouts and screams from the audience. Garbed in an Irish clogging costume, masses of curly, copper hair falling about her, a fourteen-year-old Tiffany stopped and posed, waiting for the music to begin.
“I look like a skinny leprechaun in that outfit. I remember fighting with Sean for weeks about it.”
Cole burst out laughing and squeezed her shoulder. “You looked like a fairy. Everyone thought so, Tiff. You looked great and you know it.”
“A leprechaun with braces.”
“Shut up and watch.”
Tiffany had a comment and critique for every aspect of the four-minute performance.
“I should have had more hang time on that double axel...that toe loop was off a beat...this is where my hair got caught in my mouth. All I remember tasting for hours after that was hair spray.”
The routine ended, and the video jumped to the medal ceremony. Tiffany was on the middle riser, the highest one, flanked by the bronze medalist from China and silver winner from England. The American flag was lowered, and the national anthem began.
“I look tired,” Tiffany said.
“I wonder why?” He poked her gently in the ribs. “I remember how excited everyone was when your scores were announced. I bet Mike a hundred bucks you’d be in the lead, and I was right. You skated beautifully that night. I never doubted you’d win.”
“I did. Especially when Amanda Cummings did the triple axel. I was always intimidated when I had to go up against her. She skated flawlessly.”
“So did you, Tiff,” he said.
“So do you, still. We were all so proud of you. Carly couldn’t stop crying, Chester and Alaina were beaming from ear to ear, clapping and shouting your name. Mike couldn’t even speak.”
“And what about you?” she asked, gazing up into his face.
Cole pulled his mouth into a cheeky grin. “Me? I knew you were going to win all along, so I wasn’t surprised. Proud, sure, but not surprised.”
One delicate auburn eyebrow rose almost to her hairline. “Cocky self assurance has always been one of your greatest assets,” she commented dryly.
Cole laughed again and pulled her down into a headlock.
“Snot nosed princess,” he said, knuckle-rubbing her head.
He’d been wrestling with her since she was a child. He’d taught her every subtle move to get the high ground, and in that moment she used the knowledge to her advantage. In one slick move, her arm came out across his neck, forcing his hold to loosen. When it did, she pulled her hand back and pushed forward, expertly flipping him in the seat.
To recover his balance, Cole leaned back into the couch, grabbed what he hoped were her upper arms, and shoved. In a heartbeat, she was lying backward along the length of the couch with him spread out on top of her.
Both were laughing and wriggling, each trying to get the upper hand.
Tiffany squealed, trying to twist her hips out from beneath him. “Let me go!”
“Not a chance. I know how your devious little mind works, and I taught you how to do this. The minute I loosen up, you’ll hip check me over the back of the couch. No, thanks.”
Tiffany burst out laughing. “You rat. That was exactly what I was going to do.”
“You know retreat and surrender are inevitable, Tiff. I outweigh you, and I’ve got the distinct advantage of your injury in my favor. Give?”
“Okay, you win.” She went limp beneath him.
The corners of his eyes narrowed as he smiled down at her. “You must be maturing,” he said. “You never used to give up so easily.”
When he removed one hand from her arm, she reached up to trace the outline of one of his eyes. Her finger moved from the outer canthus to his cheek, smoothing the skin she touched. “You didn’t have these little lines when you left.”
