It was just now starting to register that she’d used a different name. Tammy Vanguard had run away? Why?
He could break down and ask his father to explain—it would give his father pleasure, which was annoying, but his curiosity would be satisfied.
Or he could ask her himself.
Without pausing to think it through, he walked away from his father, out of his office, and went after his mystery woman…who was turning out to be more of a mystery with every passing minute.
* * * *
One of the perks of working at a movie theater was that Tamara could escape into an old movie whenever she needed to. For now, at least.
As she curled up in one of the seats, alone in the dark theater, she realized it might be the last time she could indulge herself with a private screening. She threw some M&Ms into her mouth to keep from crying.
She had a feeling there would be a lot of tears in the days to come; she could hold off for a little while. Let herself pretend she really did live in the black-and-white world where every story had a beginning, a middle, and an end. Where it all made sense and where it all came together in a satisfying conclusion.
The Ghost and Mrs. Muir may not have been the best pick. It was one of her favorites, but right now it was too romantic. She didn’t want to think about love or romance or fate. She should have gone with something far more cynical. Double Indemnity, maybe.
The door to the theater opened and closed behind her, and she braced herself for Marc’s line of questioning. She hadn’t responded to his handful of texts since leaving Cagney’s earlier that day, and he was the only one who knew where to find her when she wanted to be alone.
He didn’t seem to understand that being alone meant he was not welcome. Or rather, he did understand, but he ignored the silent message. Probably for the best. More often than not, his forced conversations made her feel better. Less lonely, at least.
“I’m more of a film noir guy myself.”
She sat upright with a start at the sound of Gregory’s voice in the row behind her. “What are you doing here?” Turning in her seat, she found him settling into a seat behind her and to her left, stretching his legs out in front of him.
“I own the place, remember?”
Right. Crap. So many emotions threatened to overwhelm her that she couldn’t speak. Humiliation seemed to be leading the pack. He knew who she was and had most likely heard all of the rumors. Anger, at herself mainly. She should never have tempted fate by flirting with Gregory or even contemplating going to work for him. But it was helplessness that had her hands shaking, and she clutched her candy tighter. What would she do now?
Gregory was staring at the screen as if he’d just dropped by to catch a film. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for such a romantic,” he said.
She looked from the screen and back to him. “I guess I’m just full of surprises.”
He looked at her and let out an appreciative laugh. “I guess you are. Tammy.”
Flinching at the sound of her own name, she turned back to look at the screen. “Look, I know I don’t technically work for you anymore, but I have to clean out my office, so I figured it would be all right if I watched one last film.”
He was silent for a moment. “Do you really believe I came here to get your keys from you?”
His voice, low and knowing, felt intimate in the theater’s darkness. She heard him move, and seconds later he was in her row, sitting next to her. Risking a glance at him, she inhaled sharply. He looked hot in everyday life, but the flickering light from the screen seemed to exacerbate the sharp angles of his face, and his eyes were unfathomably dark as he watched her.
“What do you want from me?” There, she’d asked the question nagging at her. Surely by now he knew who she was…and if he hadn’t heard all the rumors, he must at least know the most damning one. The rumor that had sent her running. She was unstable, crazy even. She flinched in the darkness. Crazy. She’d always hated that word. It was how Billy had described her, not how she’d felt. That was one thing she’d learned at the institution. She wasn’t crazy, and neither were any of the other patients. She and everyone else there just had issues they’d needed to address. Getting that kind of help had been the sanest thing she’d done in years. It was there that she’d figured out the truth and seen her relationship for what it had been—abusive.
Still, the gossips didn’t care about the reality. They just liked a juicy story, and labeling one of society’s preppy little debutantes “crazy” had apparently been too good to pass up.
“I’d like to know the truth.”
Ah, the truth. He made it sound so simple.
“I’m sure your father would be happy to fill you in.” She tried to keep her tone steady, but some of the age-old bitterness seeped in.
“The truth,” he repeated. “Not rumors.”
That distinction—the fact that he was actually willing to hear her version and not just believe whatever gossip still swirled about—that made her respect for Gregory skyrocket. Some pressure in her chest loosened—just slightly, but after so many years she suddenly felt like she could breathe.
“You don’t have to tell me, obviously,” he continued. And honest to God, he sounded bored by it all. Tamara bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing at that. Here she was so caught up in her old drama, it had never occurred to her that this man might not even take an interest.
They’d shared a couple of kisses and toyed with the idea of working together—not exactly a meaningful relationship. She didn’t mean enough to him for him to care about her sordid past.
That should be a relief. And it was. Sort of.
When she remained silent, he said, “I remember you, you know.”
She’d been staring at the screen, but those words had her looking over in disbelief. “Liar.”
He laughed. “I didn’t recognize you at first, obviously, but once my father jogged my memory, some of it came back. The quiet daughter of my parents’ friends. She would tag along at the beach sometimes but was too shy to play along.”
“Mmm,” she said. “That sounds like me.”
He continued softly, his voice hypnotic. “A dutiful daughter, if memory serves. I have a hazy memory of a little Goody Two-shoes. Good grades, perfect manners… A dancer, wasn’t she?”
“A ballerina,” she said softly. She was surprised to find the corners of her lips tugging up into a smile as the memory of dancing took hold. She hadn’t allowed herself to remember her dancing career in far too long. To hear her former self talked about like this—in the third person, like she was a distant memory—it was oddly cathartic. Because that girl was a distant memory. It all felt like a lifetime ago now that they were sitting here at The Ellen. They were two adults now.
The chemistry she’d felt between them at the party—that electric energy that made her frighteningly aware of his body next to hers—it was back. A physical presence that hung between them in the darkness of the theater.
Or maybe it was just her…. All she knew was her heart was pounding and she was achingly aware of his arm brushing hers. Of his quiet, steady breathing in the silence between the film’s dialogue.
Despite the fact that her worst fears had just come true—she’d been discovered and she’d lost her home at the theater—all she could think about was his kiss. Thank God for the dark of the theater, because her cheeks were on fire, along with the rest of her body.
As if reading her mind, he reached across the armrest and took hold of her hand. It wasn’t a sexual gesture, but try telling her body that. Aching awareness had heat pooling between her thighs, her body aching for his touch with a desperation she’d grown so accustomed to that it was the norm. But with one kiss, one touch, this man had made her realize how lonely she’d been all these years.
“You don’t need to tell me what happened back then,” he said agai
n. She forced herself to listen despite her fiercely racing heart. “But the woman I met the other night… It would be a shame if she walked away from this place she loves over rumors and scandals that happened a lifetime ago.”
“It was six years,” she whispered.
His laugh was deep and seductive. “That’s a lifetime in gossip years, trust me.”
She wanted to trust him. There was a part of her that wanted that to be the truth. Maybe no one cared anymore. And with that thought, a flood of other hopes reared their heads. Like maybe she wouldn’t have to leave The Ellen after all. And maybe she didn’t need to hide herself away in fear. And maybe the fact that Gregory’s father recognized her wouldn’t lead to yet another scandal.
She found herself asking the question again because as much as she wanted to hope, years of distrust were hard to shake. “What do you want from me?”
“Say you’ll work with me,” he said. Maybe it was her imagination, but the husky voice and the dark lighting made his words seductive, in more ways than one. They made her want to close the distance and continue that kiss. They also made her want to say yes—to being his partner and to being the face of The Ellen.
“Say you’ll put the past behind you and come work with me, for The Ellen. This theater needs your passion and your knowledge.”
She turned to look at him, but all she could catch was the outline of his profile as he stared up at the screen. His words were tempting. So tempting…
“Don’t let a bunch of nosy old gossips like my father come between you and your dream.”
Not my dream—my home. But she didn’t correct him. She’d walked away from her dreams of dancing professionally years ago. They’d done that to her. Her parents and their little world. But mainly her ex. They’d stolen her dream a long time ago. Or maybe she’d let it go too easily. Maybe she should have fought harder.
But now it was her home that they threatened to take away from her—if she let them.
She couldn’t let them have her home on top of everything else she’d lost.
Taking a deep breath, she squeezed his hand in the dark. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
Chapter 6
What had he done? Gregory blinked in the daylight, absurdly bright after the dark theater. He’d left Tamara there with her thoughts, but leaving had been torture. Her hand in his had been slight and cool, nearly impossible to release. And she’d been so close. Close enough for another kiss, surely.
But now she was off-limits.
He supposed he should feel proud of himself for talking her into staying. But the truth was, as glad as he was to have her working for The Ellen, he was pissed as hell to have her working for him.
There was no way he would abuse his position as her employer by kissing her again, much as he might like to.
Goddamn moral high ground.
Still, he should be glad he’d gotten through to her. And he was glad, he told himself. It would have been a shame if his father and his friends kept that remarkable woman from working for a cause she was clearly passionate about.
Passionate, that word described her to a T. She buried it beneath a well-constructed armor of quiet anonymity. Seeing her at the costume gala was like watching a swan fit in amongst a flock of ducks. Tamara was unique and vibrant…. When she chose to be. Or, more often than not, when her guard slipped and he caught a glimpse of the real woman. The mystery woman, as he still thought of her.
But despite his noble thoughts that afternoon, he couldn’t deny that curiosity still plagued him. He’d set out to ask her for the truth, but when push came to shove, he hadn’t been able to force the issue. She’d looked too vulnerable and had seemed too relieved when he’d let the topic drop.
Which was why, when he met his stepmother for their weekly dinner that evening at her favorite restaurant on the Upper East Side, he didn’t wait till the main course to dive into the subject he wanted to hear about.
“Ah,” she sang softly, her French accent barely there after so many years of living in the United States but adding a hint of the exotic to her speech. “I was wondering when you would bring up the lovely Ms. Vanguard.”
He sank back into his seat. “He already told you, didn’t he?”
Since Gregory had reached puberty, he and his father had been engaged in one battle or another. His stepmother, who’d married his father after his mother walked out on them when he was a toddler, somehow managed to be Switzerland throughout it all. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she nodded as she took a sip of her wine. “Of course, dear. It’s not every day your father walks in on you canoodling in the office.” Her brows arched over the rim of her glass. “And with the Vanguard girl, no less.”
He bit back the urge to badmouth his father. If his efforts to sway his stepmother to his side of their little war hadn’t worked thus far, no amount of whining about his father’s gloating about Tamara would sway her.
“Just tell me her story, Elena.”
Her smile was smug—she loved nothing more than to be in the know when it came to gossip. Even if that gossip was nearly a decade old. “It all started with that boyfriend of hers,” she said. “Little Tammy left her parents’ home in Boston to attend a ballet academy.” She set her glass down. “She was very talented, you know.”
Gregory struggled not to let his impatience show. “I’m sure ‘little Tammy’ was wonderful.”
His stepmother continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Tammy fell in love. That Braden boy. You remember him, don’t you?”
Yet again, the name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. His parents had far too many friends.
“He was in the grade below you,” his stepmother added.
Billy Braden. There it was. Recognition was followed by disgust. “She dated Billy?” Billy had been an asshole back in high school. A bully and a kiss-up, the worst possible combination, as far as he was concerned.
His stepmother made a noise of agreement. “He was never a gentleman,” she said with a sniff.
Gregory almost laughed out loud. “Never a gentleman” was putting it mildly. “So, she was dating Billy Braden.” He said the name with all the disgust he felt and gestured for her to continue.
His stepmother shrugged gracefully. “All I know is what I heard from her mother, you understand. But it seems Tammy couldn’t handle life in the city on her own. Billy tried to help, it seemed, but it was no use.”
The vagueness of her story was nearly as annoying as the idea of Billy being the one there to help Tamara when she was having a rough time. “That’s all? She had a tough time transitioning to living in the city? She was what…eighteen or so? That doesn’t seem all that outrageous.”
His stepmother’s eyes widened. “Oh, but it got so much worse. Her parents were rather vague on the details, understandably, but it seems Tammy spiraled dreadfully.”
“Spiraled how?” He was speaking through gritted teeth, partially because he hated imagining Tamara in such dire straits but also because the longer this conversation went on, the more he hated himself for participating in it. Hadn’t he told her he didn’t care about the rumors?
And he didn’t. Not really. But how could he defend her if he didn’t know the accusations?
Still, that line of reasoning didn’t altogether alleviate his guilt.
His stepmother raised her glass and resumed drinking. “They were rather stingy with the details, but I still say her family overreacted when they had her committed.”
He nearly spit out his whiskey. “They had her…what?”
Elena nodded with a sigh. “I adore her parents, you know that, but I have to say, her tragic downfall was most likely their fault as much as anything else. She was always so sheltered. They were overprotective to the extreme. Was it any wonder she couldn’t make it on her own?”
He’d stopped listening after the “committed” p
art. “Where was she committed? For how long?”
And there Elena grew intensely unhelpful. “I don’t know, dear. The Vanguards were awfully tight-lipped on the subject. It was embarrassing for them, as you can imagine.”
He bit his tongue at that. Yes, how terribly embarrassing to have a daughter in pain. “Then what happened? Did she get the help she needed?”
Elena sighed again, this time louder and more dramatic. “That’s what was so very sad. After she was released, she disappeared. Ran away.”
Hence the new name and the job at the theater. The pieces fell into place there, at least. But the rest of it… He hated himself more than ever for listening to rumors rather than letting her explain eventually, if she trusted him enough.
Until then, it was none of his business. He was just her employer.
His mind flashed on that kiss—the one that had turned his life upside down in the course of minutes. Hell, even that first chaste kiss at the theater had thrown him for a loop. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since. And then he’d had to go and kiss her again in his office—a true kiss this time. That had been the real kicker. For a man who’d kissed as many women as he had, that kiss might as well have been his first. Nothing else came close.
With one kiss he’d experienced the kind of all-consuming fire he’d only read about. The kind of passion people wrote poetry about, sang songs to honor.
And now he was just her employer.
Just her employer. Who did he think he was kidding?
The waiter refilling her wine glass briefly distracted Elena, but once he left, she returned to the topic with a shake of her head. “The whole thing was blown out of proportion, if you ask me. But you know how gossip works. One whiff of a scandal, especially within a family as spotless as the Vanguards, and a feeding frenzy begins.”
“Sounds like you have a soft spot for Tamara,” he said.
She nodded, but her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why do I get the sense that you need something from me?”
“Because you know me too well.” He grinned as she rolled her eyes.
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