True Colors

by Diana Palmer

  Cy didn't know what to say. He'd never felt quite so helpless. She really believed that he'd only used her to get to Blake, that he didn't care about her. Well, she was probably justified in thinking so. He'd been hostile since she came home, he'd thrown her out of his house, he'd accused her of selling him out without bothering to ask her side of it; he'd even told her that all he wanted from her was sex and that his company was worth more to him than she and his son were.

  He almost groaned out loud at his own stupidity. The absence from her had driven him mad. When she didn't come back, he was afraid that he couldn't offer her enough to keep her with him, and he'd panicked. He hadn't meant the things he'd said. He didn't even mind that much about the proxies, because he knew he could get them back if he worked at it. It was the thought that Meredith had beaten her own brother-in-law at the game, that she'd proved she was capable of fending off sharks and holding her position. His pride was hurting.

  He hesitated. "Meredith," he began, "maybe we could go for a drive. Talk this out."

  "You go and talk to yourself, Cy," she replied, sniffing as she sat up, taking the handkerchief Mr. Smith handed her. "I'm through talking to you. Tomorrow I'm taking my son and my friend back to Chicago. If you want to get a lawyer and drag us all through the courts trying to get Blake, go ahead. But you'd better have a good lawyer and plenty of time and money. Because you'll have to find us first!"

  His face contorted as he realized just how upset she was, how far he'd pushed her. She might run, and he'd never find her. It would really be the past all over again.

  "It's not like that," he said softly. "Meredith"

  Her lower lip trembled as she dabbed at tears and glared at him. "Go away."

  He threw up his hands. "Will you at least listen to me?"

  "No!" she said arrogantly.

  His lips compressed. "Look here"

  "Daddy!"

  Blake came running out of the backyard, through the house, and threw himself into Cy's arms, hugging him warmly. Cy's eyes closed as he savored that enveloping love. He put the child back down, smiling at him even through his turmoil. Blake was so much like himself.

  "Daddy, did you come to see me? Harry's in the backyard, and he can chase a stick! Want to watch?"

  "In a minute, son," he said, diverted.

  "Your daddy has to leave, Blake," Meredith said. "He's very busy."

  "Why are you sitting on Mr. Smith, Mommy?" Blake asked with wide-eyed curiosity.

  "Because he's more comfortable than the floor," she told him absently.

  Cy's lips tugged into a reluctant smile. He'd been ready to kill Smith, but it was getting through to him at last that Meredith's emotions were wildly out of kilter. That was his faultmaybe more his fault than he'd thought at first.

  He listened to Blake's monologue about his puppy unconsciously while his eyes went slowly to Meredith's stomach and lingered there with quiet, steady curiosity.

  Meredith was wiping her eyes and missed the look. Mr. Smith didn't.

  When Cy glanced at the older man Mr. Smith winked. Not another muscle of his face moved, only that one eye. And Cy's breath expelled in a harsh rush and his cheekbones turned ruddy with shock and delight.

  Mr. Smith gave Cy a short, sharp jerk of his head, cautioning the younger man not to give himself away. He knew Meredith. If Cy showed that he was aware of her condition, she'd cut and run. He didn't want that. She loved Harden. If that look was any indication, Harden was dying for her. It was a stupid misunderstanding, but he wasn't going to let them suffer another miserable six years because of this one.

  He wasn't quite sure what to do, but he had to think of something before Meredith made a truly disastrous decision out of hurt pride. She wasn't in any condition to think rationally, so he was going to do it for her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  » ^ «

  Cy didn't know how to cope. Even though he'd hoped there might be another child, the reality of it was overwhelming. Smith was silently warning him not to push Meredith. She was obviously out of control emotionally, and what he'd said to her the night she came back had made it all worse.

  They'd been so close during his recovery. Then he'd let his own doubts and insecurities warp his feelings for her. He'd pushed her out of his house and almost out of his life, because it had never occurred to him that he could lose that proxy fight. Even though his board of directors would side with Meredith and refuse the Tennison takeover bid, Meredith still held all the aces. She had controlling interest in his company, despite his plotting and scheming. She owned him. His pride had taken a hard blow with that knowledge, and it had gone straight to his head. He hadn't been thinking at all when he'd ordered her out of the house. He certainly hadn't dreamed that she was pregnant. He'd hurt her so much that he could hardly expect her to give in easily. Pregnant, and he'd turned her out. Again. He hadn't given her a chance. Again. Would he never learn from his own mistakes?

  "God, I'm a first-class heel," he said aloud. He let out a long sigh, watching the shock widen Meredith's red eyes. "Oh, you heard me all right," he said bitterly. "I never learn, do I? If anything goes wrong, it's always your fault, not mine. I lost the proxies to you, and my pride couldn't stand that, so I threw up everything we'd been building on and sent you packing. Even that wasn't enough. I told you the company meant more to me than you and Blake, and I threatened to take you to court to get custody of him. Oh, I'm a prince, Meredith." He laughed without humor, his hands rammed angrily in his pockets. "If I were you, I'd have Smith throw me through the damned window."

  Meredith didn't know how to handle such a head-on assault. She was expecting accusations, anger, even outrage. She certainly hadn't anticipated humor. She wiped her eye again and stared at him, birdlike, without speaking.

  "Better wait until you're properly healed," Mr. Smith suggested. "We wouldn't want to undo Dr. Danbury's hard work. Besides, we'd have to replace the window." He eyed the tall man. "You'd make a hell of a hole in it."

  "Good point," Cy agreed. "You can have a rain check."

  Blake had long since disappeared out the back door to play with his puppy, shaking his young head over the strange argument the adults were having.

  Mr. Smith glanced toward the back door with a rueful smile. "I'd better go out and make sure young Blake isn't making a snowman out of his puppy. He needs a thicker coat on, too."

  "You can't leave me here with him ," Meredith wailed, nodding toward a grim Cy.

  "Now, Kip," Mr. Smith said gently, rising to deposit her on the couch. "You can't run away forever."

  "You and Henry always built walls to make sure of that," she grumbled.

  "We knew you." He turned and looked at Cy. "She's already packing to leave here. If you want to do anything about it, you'd better make haste."

  "Traitor!" Meredith accused Mr. Smith.

  He just tugged a lock of her disheveled hair and grinned at her on his way out.

  The back door slammed, and they were alone. Meredith felt vulnerable with Cy, nervous and unusually shy. She couldn't quite meet his eyes, and he didn't say a word.

  He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it absently, fingering the lighter she'd given him so long ago and smiling at it. "You know, I've carried this thing around with me ever since you left Billings," he said. "You gave it to me, do you remember?"

  She nodded, dabbing at her eyes. "I didn't have much money, but it was the best one I could afford. Silver-plated," she murmured. "I thought you'd probably give it to one of your men or throw it away after I left. It was a shock to see you still using it when I came back."

  He didn't smile. His eyes searched her wan face. "It was all I had of you," he said huskily. "Every time I touched it, it was like touching you, triggering the memories all over again."

  "I thought that was the last thing you'd want."

  "Did you?" He eased closer and sat down on the armchair across from the sofa, leaning forward so that he could see her better over the coffee tab
le that separated them. "I said a lot of stupid things last week. I came this morning to apologize for them. I should have come sooner, but my pride has been pretty well dismembered, and I wasn't even sure I could get in the door here after the way I treated you. All the same, I'd like for you and Smith and Blake to come back home."

  Her lower lip trembled. "That isn't home."

  "Yes, it is, little one," he said in a tone so tender that tears spilled from her heavy eyelids again. "Home isn't a place. It's the people who live in it." He shifted on the chair and smiled ruefully. "I miss the green lizard. Place is empty without him. No claw marks on the curtains, no scales on the carpet, no fresh vegetables put out in the kitchen for him. My heart is breaking."

  "Mr. Smith might loan Tiny to you," she said, not giving an inch. "Or you could buy an iguana of your own."

  "I might have a relapse if you aren't around," he went on, watching her warily as her attention perked up. "I overdo."

  "Your mother was worried about that," she said involuntarily.

  "She's right. I've been pushing too hard." He pursed his firm lips and smiled, his dark eyes sliding over her possessively. "If you'd come home, I could slow down again. Blake could read me bedtime stories. Smith and I could fight over you."

  "Mr. Smith is my friend," she said in a hostile tone. "He's a better one than you've ever been, too."

  "I don't doubt that," he agreed without protest. "He looks after you with the ferocity of a rooster. Nothing will ever happen to you or Blake with Mr. Smith around. I've changed my mind about him. He'll have to stay with us. He can head up my internal security for the company in his spare time. Give him a challenge, shaping those boys up."

  "Mr. Smith goes with me," she said, "and I'm going back to Chicago."

  "You'll be alone," he replied, his dark eyes quiet and searching. "So will I. Even Blake and Smith won't make up for that."

  "I've been alone a long time, Cy," she said in a weary tone. She leaned back against the sofa and slumped, her eyes still meeting his. "I'm used to it now. The corporation is all I need."

  "No. I don't think so."

  "You did when you threw me out," she accused.

  He took a long draw from the cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. "I was an idiot," he said carelessly. "Men get that way when they feel threatened, didn't you know?"

  "If I hadn't laid claim to those proxies, Don would have taken you over without a qualm," she said suddenly. "He'd have fired your board of directors and put his own people in. You'd have been out on the street. He's Henry's brother. Henry taught him how to cut throats, and he's good at it. I don't have the killer instinct, but Don does."

  His eyebrows arched. "I thought you were getting control of my company to show Don he couldn't have yours."

  "I was saving your precious business for your son," she said flatly. "I assume you do intend to retire one day."

  He sat watching her, almost without breathing. So that was it. She'd been protecting his interests. And he'd thought He groaned inwardly at his own misassumptions.

  God, she was lovely. Long, tangled blond hair, soft gray eyes, radiant complexion. Meredith He sighed and his lips curved as he looked at her. It was like feeding his heart just to do that.

  "Somebody had to save you from Don," she was saying.

  "What?" he asked when she stopped speaking.

  "Cy, are you listening to me?"

  He nodded absently. "Your face has more color than it did last week. You look a little better." He scowled. "But you're still much too pale. Are you eating?"

  She nodded. "In between cursing you."

  He smiled, the forgotten cigarette firing up curls of smoke. "If you'll come home with me, I'll make love to you again," he said in a deep, coaxing tone. "We won't have to stop at one time, either, now that my back's mostly healed."

  She glared at him. "A few hours of pleasure in between the most important thing in your life?" she asked with biting sarcasm.

  "Ouch!" he murmured.

  "That's all I've ever meant to you," she said icily, "Somebody to roll in the hay."

  "We never did it in the hay," he mused. "There's a possibility."

  "I'm not sleeping with you!" she raged.

  He shrugged. "You'll get cold. The house is pretty drafty in winter, even with central heating."

  "I'm not living with you, either," she informed him.

  "Remember the night before you went back to Chicago?" he asked in a tone that made her toes curl.

  She flushed and sat up straight. "You stop that."

  "I can't forget," he murmured. "It was the most erotic thing we've ever done together, so slow and soft. Even the rhythm was bluesy."

  "I won't sit here and listen to you," she said angrily.

  "Sit on my lap and listen to me, then," he invited. His face hardened. "You sat on Smith's."

  "I was upset," she muttered. "He made me an appointment with Dr. Bryner that I didn't want."

  "Good for him. You don't look well."

  "Thanks so much," she said viciously. "I love you, too."

  "You do, don't you?" he said, his eyes steady and soft. "You told me so time and time again, and I don't suppose I listened well enough or I wouldn't have hurt you the way I did. I'm not sure of you," he added with a crooked smile. "It plays hell with my temper."

  She blinked. "Sure of me?" she asked hesitantly.

  He put out the cigarette with a long sigh. It was tell the truth time, he thought bleakly. "Meredith, you're worth millions," he said, staring at her. "You've been head of a corporate structure that makes mine look like Tinkertoys by comparison. You're used to making decisions, giving orders, taking command." He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. "I could have offered you marriage when you were a waitress in my restaurant and it would have felt comfortable. But to offer it to Henry Tennison's widow is a different proposition. What can I give you that you don't already have?" he asked with a faint smile. "How can I ask you to give up an empire to come out to Montana and just be my wife and Blake's mother?"

  She felt, and looked, shocked. "But you did offer me marriage," she reminded him.

  "Even when I said it, I knew I was dreaming." His jaw tautened as he looked at her. "I want you like hell. That's no lie. When I see you with Blake, I get goose bumps, thinking what it would be like to have you in my house all the time, to watch Blake grow up with you at my side. But it's just a daydream. It isn't even realistic. As you said when you went back to fight it out with Don, you've got obligations and responsibilities that you can't shirk. You're used to being a corporate executive. After that, sitting at home with a child wouldn't begin to satisfy you." He stared down at his hands, oblivious of her blank stare. He didn't want to say these things, but they were being dragged out of him. It was always what he wanted that took precedence, it was his comfort he thought about. For the first time he was looking at things from her vantage point. That was when he knew he couldn't force her back into his life. It was much too late for that. Now he had to give her freedom. If he did, she might come back to him one day.

  "Cy?" she prompted, because he was so quiet. This wasn't what she wanted. Didn't he know ?

  "If you want to go back to Chicago, I won't say anything. I'd like to see Blake occasionally. If you'll let me have him for a weekend now and then, or maybe for a few days in the summer"

  Her heart felt as if he'd put a knife in it. He couldn't have known how it hurt to see him so humble, totally without self-interest. Her throat felt thick and full of pins.

  He stood up abruptly. His face giving away nothing, but the pain in his eyes was so intense that he couldn't even disguise it. Her lips trembled with the depth of emotion she felt. He was going to do it. Actually going to walk out and let her go, because it was what he thought would make her happy. He wasn't going to try to change her mind or ask her to stay with him, because he didn't think he had anything to offer her.

  "What are you saying?" she whispered.

  "That I finally und
erstand what you've been trying to tell me all along. That you're not the teenaged girl I used to know." He drew in a slow breath. "Until today, I didn't realize how totally selfish I've been. But it's not too late to correct that mistake. Take Blake and Smith and go back to Chicago, if that's what will make you happy." He managed a faint smile, his eyes loving her. "God knows you'd be better off without me, little one. I knew that six years ago, even if you didn't." He didn't dare think about the child she was carrying or he'd go out of his mind. He had to put her needs first, for a change. Besides, she might not want the child. He was pretty sure she couldn't still want him, after what he'd done to her. She'd made that clear. "Good-bye, little one," he said softly, his eyes adoring her one last time. It was going to tear the heart out of him, but he had to give her time.

  He turned toward the door, and a sob tore out of her throat as she saw the past repeating itself. Her priorities sorted themselves in a fraction of a second.

  "No!" she almost screamed after him. "No! If I lose you again, I don't want to live!" she choked.

  He whirled on his heel, his face livid with emotion, his eyes blazing with it. "What did you say?"

  She held out her arms, trembling, her tear-wet face telling him all her secrets as she threw her pride to the wind. "I said I love you," she whispered. "I don't care what you have to offer. I just want to live with you! Oh, please. Don't go" Her voice broke.

  He reached her in two long strides, sinking to his knees in front of her, his hard arms folding around her as she clung to him. Her face pressed into his neck. She was trembling as he pressed her close to his chest.

  She moved then, turning her head so that she could search for his mouth. She found it, moaning when his warm lips returned the hungry pressure and then became suddenly insistent, devouring.