She pulled her hand back as if he’d stung her. “That’s hardly fair.”
“I don’t know what’s going on with you.” He forced himself to gentle his tone. No need to make this any more unpleasant than it needed to be. “Maybe you’re lonely, or maybe you’re feeling nostalgic. But what you’re trying to do here—it’s not going to work.”
Vanessa pouted at him, but some of the artifice slipped from her demeanor, and he found himself talking to the woman he’d originally fallen for and not the tough bitch she liked to pretend she was.
“I’m happy, Vanessa.” The words came out without any thought, and he was nearly as stunned by the admission as she seemed to be. Holy shit. He was happy. Maybe for the first time in his life, he felt like he fit. Like he belonged. He was with someone who cared about him—not his money or his family name.
And he could be good for her. He’d gotten her to open up and was helping her face her fears. The swelling of pride was unexpected and unusual…but it felt good. He liked being needed, being a help to someone.
Once Vanessa recovered from her obvious surprise, those words made her smile—it was a sad smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Are you really?”
The doubt in her voice made him uneasy. “I am.” He hated how defensive he sounded.
Vanessa moved past him, patting his arm as she went. “If you say so, lover. But don’t come crying to me when you realize I’m right. You may think you’re happy now, but you’ll mess it up. You always do.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he muttered.
She stopped by the doorway and turned back to give him something close to a genuine smile. “I’m not being cruel. You can’t help it. You’ll never be able to commit to this woman, whoever she is.”
“You don’t know that.” The anger in his voice was unmistakable. “I’m so sick of everyone telling me I’m unable to commit. You and I lasted two years, didn’t we? That’s not nothing.”
Vanessa smirked. “We were more off than on for two years—not exactly a record to brag about. Besides, I’m the only reason we lasted as long as we did.”
He let out a mirthless bark of a laugh. “Oh really?”
She nodded in all seriousness. “Sweetie, you’ve always run away the moment things get difficult. Blame it on your mom leaving you at such a young age, or maybe it’s just in your genetics, but you’re wired to flee in the face of real emotions.”
If her intention had been to hurt him, she couldn’t have aimed her blow any better. It was exactly what his father had been pounding into him his whole life. He was just like his mother. He would hurt the ones he loved. He’d leave because he wasn’t strong enough to stay.
“You—that’s—” He tried to come up with words to argue and failed miserably. Because the truth was, he had fled before. But he wouldn’t now. It was different this time.
She came over and patted him on the arm. “Face it, Gregory, it was always me who came running back to you even if you were the one in the wrong.” Her smile turned bitter and self-deprecating. “Like tonight, for example.” She spread her arms wide. “Here I am, chasing after you. Again. For the millionth time.” Leaning in, she stroked his chest and lowered her voice. “Face it, it’s what we do. You run and I chase.”
He moved back, away from her wandering hands. “Not anymore, Vanessa. This time we’re over for good.”
But even as he spoke, her words lingered, stinging old wounds—and she wasn’t done. Though she wore a small smile, there was something frighteningly close to pity in her eyes. “You might have the best intentions, Gregory, but you and your new fling are doomed to fail. You’ll never be able to commit and be happy until you face the fact that doing so will make your father happy.”
Her words were a slap in the face. Exactly as she’d intended, no doubt.
It wasn’t true. He went to tell her that, but she was already walking out the door. Whatever box she’d come to pick up—if there really had been a box—was forgotten.
Chapter 9
Tamara critically eyed her reflection in the floor-length mirror for the tenth time as Marc paced the length of her bedroom. “Are you sure you didn’t like the black one better?”
Gregory had been in DC all week for business, and though they had texted and talked on the phone every day in the week he’d been gone, she was anxious to see him again. She turned to check out her profile. She wanted to look good. This party had started out as a business date—she’d be his plus one just to gain entry. But now that they’d slept together, was this a real date? She sucked in a deep breath to quell an entirely different set of butterflies in her stomach.
The idea of facing this crowd was still enough to make her want to bolt, but the thought of having her first real date made her want to squeal with excitement. Whether this was a business outing or a real date—or maybe both—either way she wanted to make him proud when she showed up on his arm.
Plus, she needed the confidence boost. If she was going to walk straight into the lion’s den, she sure as hell needed to look her best.
“You look hot in red,” Marc said matter-of-factly. “Now let’s get back to this dick of an ex.” He plopped down on her bed and leveled her with a glare. “I cannot believe it took you six years to tell me that you have been living a double life.”
She let out a snort of amusement. “Not a double life, Marc. I just didn’t tell you everything about my past.”
“You told me nothing!” The dreaded Billy conversation had come up again and again over the past few days. Marc dug for details, and Tamara found to her surprise that she didn’t mind. The more she talked about that period of her life, the easier it was to put it behind her. Marc, however, was hung up on the fact that she’d waited so long to tell him. Now that his initial pity had faded, he’d been giving her hell over that.
His arms were crossed, and he was giving her a pout that she knew well. It was the same one he gave her when she watched America’s Next Top Model without him. It meant he was pissed but not hurt. Thank God. She wouldn’t have been able to take it if her silence had cost her his friendship.
“I told you I was a ballerina when I was young,” she offered.
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, but not that you were this close to going pro. Oh yeah, and that your psycho ex went all Gaslight on your ass and nearly drove you insane.”
She gave him an appreciative smile. “Nice reference.”
He doffed an imaginary hat before going back on his rampage. “If you’d told me, I could have done something.”
“Like what?” she picked up her makeup brush and added one more sweep of blush for good measure.
He hesitated for one second before saying, “I could have beaten him up for you.”
She arched one eyebrow in disbelief—Marc was more of a “make love, not war” kind of guy. She couldn’t imagine him fighting anyone, let alone her burly ex.
“Okay, fine. Maybe not that. But I could have made you feel better. I could have been there for you!”
She turned to face him, her hands on her hips. “Are you kidding me? You have been there for me, from almost my first day in the city. From the moment you answered my Craigslist ad and moved in, you’ve been there for me. I couldn’t have moved on the way I have if it wasn’t for you.”
There was an awkward silence as he blinked at her in surprise, his eyes growing watery as hers started to spill over. But then he jumped off her bed and hurried over with a tissue. “Oh no you don’t. Your eye makeup is perfect; you will not ruin it with silly tears.”
She laughed and sniffled a bit as she dabbed away the wetness. “You’re right. I need to get my game face on if I’m going to face this crowd.”
He gave her his best pout. “I wish I could come with you.”
“Me too.” She sighed.
He patted her shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Your
sexy new boyfriend will make sure of it.”
She bit her lip as Marc rolled his eyes. “The guy has been calling you constantly and is taking you home for the holidays. I think it’s safe to say he’s your boyfriend.”
“This is business,” she argued automatically. But even as she said it, her heart threatened to leap out of her chest with happiness at Marc’s confidence that this was a real date. It was ridiculous that after everything they’d discussed, after being as intimate as two people could be…she still wasn’t quite sure where they stood. He certainly hadn’t brought up the topic—for all she knew, she was one of many women he was currently dating.
Besides, as excited as she was at the prospect of a real relationship with this man, the thought of being in another long-term commitment made her chest tighten with anxiety. She wasn’t ready. Maybe she’d never be ready. It had been so long since she’d been truly happy, and the feeling was mixed with terror.
Just enjoy it while it lasts. Stay in the moment, wasn’t that what the therapists always said? She could do that.
As if reading her mind, Marc slipped out of her bedroom and returned with a glass of wine. She modified her earlier thought. She could do that—with the help of wine.
“I cannot believe that my little Tam-Tam is sleeping with the city’s most eligible bachelor.”
She met his gaze and they both burst out laughing. It was ludicrous that she, of all people, was dating someone like him. Not only did they live in different worlds—now, at any rate—but she’d been swearing up and down to her friends that she didn’t date. Ever.
But that was before she’d met Gregory…again.
* * * *
Gregory came to the door bearing a bouquet of roses. He’d been waiting all week for this moment, and when the door opened—the moment was better than he could have imagined.
Her long hair was curled, and her figure was shown off to perfection by the short, long-sleeved red dress. But the best part of all was her smile: wide, open, and genuine. “You look incredible.”
She blushed at the praise, and it was all he could do not to draw her into his arms and carry her back to her bedroom to pick up where they’d left off before he’d headed out of town.
He might have done just that if her roommate hadn’t appeared behind her.
After exchanging pleasantries with Gregory, Marc handed Tamara her clutch purse before taking her shoulders in his hands. Ignoring Gregory, he bent down a bit so he could look Tamara in the eyes. “You’ve got this, girl. Your history is history and you are goddamn Ingrid Bergman.”
Gregory watched Tamara’s brows shoot up as she bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I’m Ingrid Bergman?”
Marc nodded sagely. “You are. And you are about to make those rich people your bitches.”
Now it was Gregory’s turn to smother a laugh. “I don’t need her to fight my parents’ guests, you know. We just need her to speak on the theater’s behalf.”
Marc waved him off with one hand while never taking his eyes off Tamara. “You call me if you need backup, okay?”
Tamara nodded, and Gregory took her by the elbow and led her down the stairs to the street where he’d parked his car. As he helped her in, he took the opportunity to lean over and inhale her scent, feeling the warmth from her skin. “You look amazing, have I told you that yet?”
“Not yet.” She smiled up at him and his heart stopped. God, she was perfect. Once he was behind the wheel he leaned over for the kiss he’d wanted to give her the moment she’d opened the door. Her lips were gratifyingly eager as they met his, and for a heartbeat he actually contemplated skipping the party altogether.
He pulled back slowly and took a deep breath, watching as she did the same.
But they couldn’t skip it—this was a great opportunity for her to make the right connections for the theater, which was imperative to the theater’s success.
And since the theater’s success was imperative to shoving it in his father’s face, it was a priority he couldn’t dismiss. He watched his gorgeous date tidy up her lipstick in the mirror above the passenger seat visor. “You ready for tonight?”
She glanced over, and her emotions were written clearly all over her face. Fear mixed with resolve.
“As I’ll ever be.” Her smile was tentative, but it was a smile nonetheless. He reached out to squeeze her hand.
“I’ve got some good news,” she said as he weaved the car through traffic to his parents’ place on the Upper East Side.
“What’s that?”
“I’ve booked an event at The Ellen.”
When he looked over in surprise again, he found her smiling broadly, excitement giving her eyes sparkle in the dim light of the car.
“That was quick. What’s the event?”
“It’s for one of Alice’s clients. She’s organizing a fundraiser for the hospital’s new children’s clinic. It’s a bachelor auction.” He didn’t comment, but she hurried on. “Before you say anything, I know how that sounds, but it will be classy, I swear. And Alice has invited all the biggest donors, so I figure—”
She stopped talking when he smiled at her. “That sounds perfect. Exactly the type of event we’re hoping to get.”
When she lit up at the praise, he added, “I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to get results so quickly.”
Even in the dark lighting, the pinkness of her cheeks stood out. “I didn’t really do anything. It was Alice’s idea. She came to me with it.”
“Still,” he said. “It’s a good omen, isn’t it? We’re off to a great start.”
She nodded, and her eyes were soft and tender, filled with a trust that made his heart hurt. “Maybe it’s a sign that we make a great team.”
He turned back to the road quickly. Something that sounded a bit like alarm bells went off in the back of his brain. That trust he’d heard—it made him tap the steering wheel, suddenly too antsy to focus on anything other than driving.
You’re going to hurt her. Vanessa’s words from the night before came back to him with utter clarity. You’re going to mess it up. It’s what you do.
It wasn’t true. She was messing with him; that’s what she did. And she did it well. She’d known exactly where to strike to bring about the most pain. Right now he couldn’t imagine anything worse than causing Tamara more pain in her life.
What if Vanessa was right? He shook his head. He was a grown man who made his own choices. He didn’t have to relive his mother’s mistakes or let his father’s low expectations define him.
But even as he told himself that, uncertainty had him shifting uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, keenly aware of the delicate hand she rested on her lap beside him. God, she was so small, so…breakable.
Not for the first time this week, he remembered how fragile and vulnerable this woman was. Hadn’t Ben told him she didn’t date? And she’d all but said it herself. But here she was, giving him a chance. Looking at him like he might be the answer to her prayers. Like he was the leading hero in one of those old black-and-white romances she loved so much.
Him. The guy who hadn’t been able to commit to anything, not for any length of time. Hell, his father had had to give away his pet fish because he’d forgotten to feed it one too many times. His father had given it to another family so he wouldn’t kill it. He’d loved that stupid fish, but that hadn’t stopped him from nearly killing it.
He was his mother’s son. But no, that was his father’s voice he heard, not his own. And the fish incident had happened when he was ten. He was a grown-up now. He could handle this.
He cleared his throat and focused on the car in front of them. “So, what was that Ingrid Bergman comment about? When Marc was saying goodbye?”
He heard her shifting beside him, and he glanced over to see that she was biting her lip.
“It’s stupid,” she said with a
roll of her eyes. “I told Marc what happened and he thought it sounded like the plot from Gaslight.”
“You told him,” Gregory repeated. The fact that she’d glossed over that detail didn’t fool him into thinking it had been a small deal for her.
She nodded. “I told him.”
He brought the car to a stop at a red light and turned to look at her. “And?”
She met his gaze, and the honesty he saw there nearly leveled him. “And it felt good to finally get it out there. I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to tell my best friend.”
“What was holding you back?”
She shrugged. “I guess I was worried that he’d pity me.”
“But he didn’t.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, because Marc’s tone had been anything but pitying. He’d sounded like a confident coach sending his best player out onto the field.
“He didn’t,” she confirmed.
Good. The last thing she needed was pity. She needed… She needed…ah hell, who was he to say what she needed? He parked a few blocks from his parents’ apartment and helped her out of the car. He just hoped bringing her to this party wasn’t an epic mistake. In theory, it should help her overcome her fears. His stepmother and her friends would be tactful, surely, and Tamara could overcome her paranoia that she was still the scandal of the high and mighty.
Still, as he offered her his arm and he felt her hand slip through, petite and dainty just like her—he hoped like hell he was right.
One of the hired help let them into the apartment, and Gregory patted Tamara’s hand, which had clenched his arm with enough force that he’d most likely bruise. She paused in the entryway, and with a quick glance, he could practically see her debating whether to run away.
“I promise I’ll be by your side as long as you need me.”
She responded with a grateful smile that had his chest swelling with pride.
His stepmother approached them, her face lit with a welcoming smile. “Ah, Gregory, I’m so glad you’re here.” She pulled him in tightly before giving him a kiss on both cheeks. When she released him, she turned her gaze to Tamara, who was still squeezing his arm so tightly he was just waiting for her to cut off the blood flow to his hand.
Her Leading Hero Page 13