Bravo Unwrapped

by Christine Rimmer

  “Yeah?”

  “Spare me the details, okay? I get the point.”

  “Okay. But I mean it when I say it was…a truly bad moment.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ve always wondered…” Her throat clutched on her. So ridiculous, after all this time, how much a flash of ugly memory still had the power to stop her dead—the power to wound, and wound so deeply.

  “Ask,” he said, the sound low and rough, as if that moment had hurt—still hurt—him, as well.

  She looked right at him then. “That woman. Who was she?”

  He hung his head. “I don’t know.”

  “She really was a total stranger?”

  “I think she said her name was Sarah. I hooked up with her at that Irish bar around the corner from my place.” He’d lived in Chelsea then. In a studio walk-up with an efficiency kitchen along one wall, a bathtub that doubled as the base for the dinner table and a Pullman bed.

  That bed was opposite the door…B.J. shut her eyes to block out the memory of Buck’s betrayal. She tried to turn her mind to happier thoughts—and found herself remembering that the place had had waterbugs the size of Chihuahuas. In the good times, they used to joke about putting a leash on one and walking it over to Union Square.

  Back then, he could barely afford that tiny, tacky apartment. He worked two jobs—at Alpha and at night in a restaurant uptown—to keep up with his lease. They’d mostly lived at her apartment. It was bigger and cleaner, considerably so. Not as nice as her current coop, but a palace compared to that studio.

  She said, “You took me by surprise when you asked me to marry you. The last thing I thought you’d ever do was propose. All those times I asked you to move in with me, you never would.”

  “Too much pride,” he said. “I wanted you to move in with me. I wanted to have a place of my own that was…I don’t know, worthy of you, I guess. I wanted to take care of you.”

  She swallowed. “Take care of me?”

  “That’s right.” He came toward her then, hesitantly. She signaled her willingness to have him near by scooting sideways a little, making a place for him. He settled beside her on the edge of the bed. “Pretty damn pitiful, huh? Me, wanting to take care of you? Considering you were—and are—as self-reliant as they come. And I could barely take care of myself.”

  “Pitiful?” She met his eyes, couldn’t quite hold the connection, and looked away. “I wouldn’t say that. But I have to admit, it knocked me right over when you pulled that ring out of your pocket.” She stared out at the moonlit dark beyond the French doors, at the endless layers of stars.

  He grunted. “I got that ring at a pawn shop. All-Metro Pawn, it was called. The guy behind the counter swore the diamond was a full carat. Even from a pawnbroker, it cost two weeks’ worth of commission checks from Alpha. And then, after it was all over between us, I took it back where I got it. Guy gave me half what I paid for it.”

  She allowed herself a long, sorrowful sigh and looked at him again. “A bad business, all around.”

  He broke the eye contact that time. “Not all of it. There were a lot of good times, too.”

  She felt the ghost of a smile as it tugged at her mouth. “That place of yours was something.”

  “Something to get away from.”

  “What about those waterbugs?”

  “Never seen any that big, before or since.”

  There was a silence. Into it, she confessed, so softly, “I had turned you down. Much as I hate to admit it, I do realize you did have every right to go and be with someone else….”

  “Uh-uh.” He was shaking his head. “You were mine, then. Even if you wouldn’t say yes to my ring. You were mine and I was yours. I knew it.” He took her hand from her lap, pressed it to his chest. “I knew it here.”

  She felt the steady beating of his strong heart. “Oh, Buck…”

  “The whole time we were together, I felt about a thousand miles beneath you. You were so smart and on top of it, way out of my league. I knew what I was and it wasn’t much. And that just got clearer the more important you became to me. Every morning, when I looked in the mirror to shave, I saw a nobody from a small town, a hick with big dreams and no money.

  “I tried not to let it all get to me. For a while, I think I succeeded pretty well. But in the end, I couldn’t take it anymore, feeling so much less than you. I asked you to marry me when I knew you would say no—and then, when you did say no, I stomped off in a rage and betrayed you with someone else. I went out and found that other woman and I used her. Because I not only knew you were right to turn me down—I also needed a way to prove to myself that it was really over, that I had lost you. I didn’t dream you’d come back to try and work things out. But you did come back—which meant I got exactly what I’d been telling myself I needed. After that, there was no doubt about how over the two of us were.”

  “You wanted it to end, between us?”

  “No. Never. But I sure as hell hated feeling like I wasn’t man enough for you. I hated it so much, I went right out and proved that it was true—I wasn’t man enough for you.”

  He released her hand and dropped back across the bed. A few seconds later, she fell back beside him. They lay there, legs bent at the knees, feet still firmly planted on the floor, staring upward, not touching.

  He rolled his head to look at her. “You were so right, to say no to me. I was too young. And real stupid. I had too much to prove to the world—and to myself. But you know what?”

  “Tell me.”

  He gave her that grin, then, the one that made all the women go ga-ga. “I like to think that now, I’m not only older, I’m a hell of a lot smarter, too…”

  She teased, “Uh-oh. I’m getting worried…”

  “You should be.” He rolled and grabbed for her. She squirmed away. But he was fast. He’d always been fast. Damn him. “Gotcha,” he crowed when he caught her. His tempting lips were barely an inch from hers.

  She advised, “Don’t get all full of yourself. I let you catch me.”

  He gathered her closer and whispered, “Now, that’s what I like to hear.”

  And then he kissed her.

  Several hours later, B.J. woke in Buck’s bed with a burning desire for a glass of cold milk and an Oreo cookie—or five. Really, this food thing was getting out of hand.

  She checked the bedside clock. Past one in the morning. Then she rolled her head the other way to look at the sleeping man beside her.

  He lay face up. At some point after she dropped off, he must have gotten up and turned off the lamp. The room was thick with nighttime shadows. But she could see him clearly enough. His skin looked silvery in the starlight and the shadow of his morning beard already darkened his cheeks.

  He looked so peaceful when he was sleeping. Almost harmless.

  Hah.

  She thought of the things he’d done to her—and with her—before they fell asleep. No, she didn’t blush. When it came to sex, B. J. Carlyle never blushed.

  But she did have to hold back a long, melting sigh.

  And she still wanted that Oreo. Maybe Chastity would have some down in the kitchen.

  Guests weren’t allowed in the kitchen area—but B.J. wasn’t that kind of guest. Not really. She was Buck’s guest and that made her a family guest and…

  Oh, hell. Even if she wasn’t supposed to go in the kitchen, she didn’t care. She wanted those Oreos. She could taste the silky coldness of that tall glass of milk.

  And really, she had to get up anyway and get back to her own room. Until she got around to mentioning the fact that she was pregnant, there could be no waking up in the morning with Buck. Mornings were for bolting down the hall, late as usual for her regular appointment with the toilet bowl. Buck didn’t need to be a witness to that.

  Carefully, she inched over until she could ease out of the bed and onto her feet, one hand weighting the blankets, to keep any pesky draft from waking him. She tiptoed over to the chair where she’d thrown her
clothes and quickly began putting them on. She was almost dressed, sitting in the chair to pull on her socks, when he spoke sleepily from the bed.

  “Wha’s up?”

  She whispered, “Go back to sleep. I need an Oreo.”

  “Oreo?”

  “I’ll be back….” She wouldn’t. But he didn’t have to know until morning—hopefully after she’d done the daily hurl.

  “Wan’ me to come?”

  “No. Go back to sleep.”

  He made a muffled, sighing sound, turned over and lay still. Good. She finished putting on her socks and shoes, grabbed her coat and bag and got the heck outta there—on tiptoe, very quietly.

  In the hall, Chastity kept the lights in the wall sconces turned on low, so B.J. didn’t have stumble around in the dark. She stopped in at her own room first, to drop off her coat and bag, then she headed downstairs.

  In the lower hall, she turned for the back of the house. The kitchen door was right across from the one to Glory’s rooms. B.J. put her hand on the kitchen doorknob—and heard muffled sobbing coming from the other side.

  Poor Glory.

  B.J. turned the knob and pushed the door inward. “Hey,” she said softly, “Need a shoulder to…?”

  It wasn’t Glory.

  Buck’s mother sat at the table, clutching a waddedup tissue in one hand and the phone in the other. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Fifteen

  “Oops. Sorry.” B.J. started to duck back out the kitchen door.

  Chastity waved her soggy tissue and mouthed, “Wait.” She sniffed and spoke into the phone. “Caitlin. All right. I will think about it, I promise. Right now, I have to go… Yes. Buck’s girlfriend…”

  Buck’s girlfriend? Wait a minute…B.J. automatically opened her mouth to deliver a correction—and shut it before saying a word.

  After all, she’d just crawled out of Buck’s bed following a night of extremely satisfying lovemaking. And she fully expected to spend tomorrow night in his bed, too. This was more than a hook-up, a lot more. At least for the next several days, B.J. realized, if someone called her Buck’s girlfriend, she’d be in no position to argue the point.

  “Bye.” Chastity punched the off button, tossed her used tissue on the table atop a drifting white pile of them, yanked a fresh one from the box at her elbow—and set the phone down. “What’s up?” She dabbed at her eyes.

  “I, um, got a little hungry and I thought maybe…”

  Chastity signaled her forward. “Come on in. Shut the door. No need to wake the whole house.”

  B.J. stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind her. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

  “You didn’t, don’t worry.” Chastity honked into her tissue and then wiped her nose. “What can I get you?”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have some Oreos around here, would you?”

  Another tissue hit the pile. “You know, I just might.” Chastity pushed herself to her feet.

  B.J. protested, “You don’t have to wait on me. Let me—”

  “Sit. I’m happy to get you whatever you’d like.” So B.J. took a chair and watched as Chastity bustled about, washing her hands, pulling open a cupboard and producing a fresh, crisp bag of Oreos. She transferred several of the dark-chocolate goodies to a small plate and set them on the table in front of B.J. “Let me guess. A big glass of cold milk.”

  “You’re a mind-reader.”

  “That I am.” Chastity poured the milk and provided a napkin.

  B.J. dug in. “Um. Perfect.”

  Chastity retied the sash on her celadon-green chenille robe and took her chair again. She watched, wearing a tiny smile and a faraway look in her stillmoist eyes, as B.J. polished off three cookies in quick succession and drank half of her milk. “I like a woman with an appetite.”

  “I’ve got that, all right.” B.J. spoke around a mouthful of cookie. She ate another and another after that. By then, with the edge off her hunger, she found she couldn’t resist asking, “Was that Caitlin Bravo on the phone?”

  Chastity sat back. “Buck mentioned Caitlin?”

  “Yeah—her and her three sons. I think we’re leaving for Las Vegas tomorrow, where I’ll get to meet her oldest, Aaron.”

  “Well. In answer to your question, yes. That was Aaron’s mother on the phone just now. Caitlin’s my best friend.”

  “I see,” said B.J., kind of taking that in.

  Chastity sniffed. “You’re surprised—that I would be friends with one of Blake’s other wives?”

  “Well. Yeah. I guess I am…”

  “We met a couple of years ago, Caitlin and me—after the truth about Blake came out in the papers, along with the news that he was finally, truly dead. Caitlin raised her boys barely a hundred miles from here, in New Venice, Nevada.”

  Mind-boggling. “Blake Bravo must have had one giant pair of cojones on him, to keep two separate families that close together.”

  Chastity chuckled under her breath. “He certainly did. But he was careful, in his own diabolical way. He and Caitlin were together before he faked his own death. Once he supposedly died, she never saw him again. I met him later. I had no idea at first that he was the Blake Bravo—not for years, if you want the truth.” She began gathering up her pile of tissues.

  “I just don’t get it. What goes through the mind of a man like that?”

  “We’ll never know and, truthfully, I don’t think I want to know.”

  B.J. sipped her milk. “So. You and Caitlin finally met up…”

  “That’s right. When our sons found each other, she called me and said she’d like to meet me. I was nervous about that, about us getting together. But she was insistent. I ended up inviting her here. She stayed overnight.” Chastity rose and put the tissues in the trash under the sink. Firmly, she shut the sink cabinet door and straightened. “We talked that whole night, never even went to bed. It felt as though I’d known her my whole life. And you know, maybe that’s not so surprising. After all, we do have a lot in common. Blake Bravo took both of us for quite a ride—and gave each of us our beautiful boys.” She leaned back against the counter and patted her hair, though it looked painfully tidy already. “I never for a minute expected that we would get on so well. We are very different. Caitlin’s quite the seductive one. Men flock to her.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “She’s a fine person.” The twin lines between Chastity’s brows deepened even more with her warning frown.

  “That wasn’t a criticism. Honestly.” B.J. peeled apart an Oreo and licked the sweet, white center.

  Chastity pursed up her mouth. “Well, people do judge her. Her men friends come and go—and they tend to be much younger than she is.”

  “Are they all over eighteen?”

  “Of course. But some are as young as their middle twenties. Caitlin’s in her late fifties now.”

  “You should meet my father. He’s sixty. The current love of his life is twenty-three.”

  Chastity made a humphing sound. “It’s funny, isn’t it? When a man takes a lover young enough to be his daughter, people may talk, but it’s mostly about what a big stud the old guy is. Let a woman try that, though…”

  “Exactly. And as far as I’m concerned, what goes on between single consenting adults is just not my business.” B.J. licked off the rest of the white icing, then popped the cookie in her mouth.

  “More milk?”

  B.J. beamed Buck’s mom a grateful smile. “Please.” Chastity provided a refill and then returned to her seat. “Thanks.” B.J. gulped another sip, set down the glass and leaned across the table, pitching her voice to a level suitable for sharing secrets. “And speaking of things that are none of my business…”

  Chastity sighed, but it was a good-natured kind of sigh. “Yes?”

  “What made you cry just now?”

  Buck’s mom waved a hand. “Oh, well. I’m a little confused, that’s all.”

  “About?”

  “It’s�
��man trouble, I guess you could say.”

  Man trouble. Chastity? More intriguing by the minute. “And you called Caitlin for advice?”

  “I know it’s late, but Caitlin runs a combination restaurant, bar and gaming parlor over there in New Venice. She’s up at all hours—and, as I mentioned, she does know a lot about men.” Chastity tapped her fingertips on the table. “I think I’d like a nice cup of tea. How about you?”

  “I’ll pass.” B.J. chose another Oreo.

  Chastity rose and set the kettle on to boil, then got down a china teapot, a tea ball and a cozy. She took a canister of tea from a cupboard. B.J., enjoying herself immensely, watched the older woman as she bustled about. It was nice, sitting there in Chastity’s warm kitchen in the middle of the night, eating Oreos and getting more dirt on the notorious Blake Bravo and his wives.

  Plus, with a little more careful coaxing, B.J. just knew she could get Buck’s mom to come clean on that “man trouble” remark of a minute ago.

  “The truth is,” Chastity said with a quick, rueful glance over her shoulder at B.J., “I loved Blake Bravo. I loved him more than anyone will ever know. He was all I ever wanted—and I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Well. The man was a kidnapper, a murderer and a bigamist several times over.”

  Chastity spooned tea leaves into the tea ball. “I was so young when I met him, barely eighteen, starry-eyed and innocent. We ran off to Vegas together and got married the first weekend we met. Of course, I hadn’t a clue then that he already had more than one wife. If someone had dared to try and tell me he was already married—several times over—I would have cursed them for a liar and spit on their shoes. Never would I have believed that my darling Blake could betray me.”

  “Wow.”

  “Oh, yes. I was his, completely—and proud to be so.”

  “You met him here, in the Flat?”

  “Yes, I did. Right here, at the Sierra Star. This place belonged to my parents then.” Chastity screwed the two pieces of the tea ball together, hung it in the pot and carried the pot, her cup and the cozy back to the table. “To this day, I don’t know why he came to town.” She set down the tea stuff and claimed her chair again. “He never told me. And you know what? I really didn’t care.