by Rae Renzi
Eerie, because she had just seen it from the inside out.
Casey slowed her steps to watch the television as a familiar helicopter set down. Two figures, tall dark-haired men, ran across the tarmac to the chopper as the door slid open. Another figure stood in the doorway, looking toward the camera for a moment, then stepped back. She knew what happened next, but she wasn’t prepared for the emotional kick she felt when the camera zoomed in on Jack’s face. The banner displayed Dylan Raines rescued after 10 days in wilderness.
Her knees turned to jelly. She fell into a seat, her mouth slack and her face numb.
Dylan Raines? Her Jack was Dylan Raines?
A leaden feeling grew in the pit of her stomach as she watched the unfolding scenario, first with disbelief, then with despair. No amount of shifting the facts or altering viewpoint allowed for her, Casey Lord, budding social scientist, to have a future with Dylan Raines. Famous? Yes, he was famous, all right. Notorious? Yes, that too.
Jack jumped out of the helicopter. Tears welled up in her eyes. The two tall men clapped him on the shoulders. She now understood perfectly what he’d wanted to protect her from. He was protecting her from himself, his world.
A world so remote from hers that six—or sixteen—degrees of separation could not bridge the gap. Their worlds had intersected for the briefest of moments and only as a consequence of a cataclysmic event. He knew that. He knew, but had chosen to deny it, up to the last minute.
Except he’d said he needed her. That he couldn’t let her go. He said he’d find her. Her aching heart said otherwise—in no universe that she could imagine would she be paired with Dylan Raines. In no universe that she could imagine would she survive the notoriety, if she were.
The two men fell in beside him as he walked toward a long black car parked a short distance away. The door of the vehicle opened. A prickle of dread ran up Casey’s spine. A high-heeled sandal appeared, then another. A stunning dark-haired woman emerged from the car, walked over to Jack and possessively took his arm. There was no ambiguity in the gesture. Jack was hers.
Pain knifed through Casey’s heart. She didn’t want to believe her eyes, didn’t want to accept that Jack had lied when he’d told her she was the only one. Well, if that had been true at the river, it obviously was not in the real world. He’d lied to her, betrayed her, filled her with hope and joy, and then had walked away. It had all been a fantasy, a moment’s entertainment for him, a way to pass the time.
And she had bought it lock, stock and barrel.
She should have known. Her first impression of him, her distrust, was a clue she’d overlooked, almost willfully. An actor—his whole life was illusion, he lived and breathed for publicity. He was by definition everything she despised, wrapped up in a pretty package.
Her eyes were glued to the screen. She barely registered that Jack didn’t look at the woman clutching his arm, didn’t hug her or kiss her, did nothing, in fact, to indicate he was attached to her in any way. His attention was still on the car.
Suddenly, he dropped down on one knee and held out his arms. A little girl dashed out of the car and into his arms. Jack scooped her up, a radiant smile on his face. The little girl laughed and pulled his beard.
Ah. The complication. Casey looked away, not wanting to witness the purity of that scene.
“So, amid the tragedy of the flash flood, a ray of sunshine,” intoned the television announcer, “as superstar Dylan Raines was rescued today after surviving two weeks in the wilderness. Stay tuned for an in-depth report on the heartfelt reunion with his wife and child, coming up on the hour.”
Casey felt dizzy, and her face clammy. She made a break for the restroom, blindly pushing past people to get to a stall before she threw up.
Minutes later, she reached up to flush the toilet. The contents of her stomach were whisked away with a whoosh of water. She knelt on the floor of the stall over the toilet, her head in her hands, numbly watching concentric circles spread out on the surface as each of her tears hit the water. When her body had poured out all that it could and finally became still, she struggled to her feet and emerged from the stall.
Standing in front of the mirror, she gazed at herself in relentless appraisal. Her curls were coarse and gritty, her skin shiny with sweat, her eyes red and swollen. Not a trace of makeup softened her naked features. Skin flaked off her nose from sunburn, and her clothes, not even clean, looked like what they were—bargains from a thrift shop. She was as unlikely a lover of Dylan Raines—film star Dylan Raines—as could be found on the planet. The very idea of the two of them sharing anything, even the air they breathed, was laughable.
How could she have been so gullible? She should have seen what he was—someone used to taking what he wanted without a single thought for anyone else. A flush of heat reddened her neck, numbed her face. What fantasy had she nurtured that led her to choose someone like Jack, a self-centered user, an irresponsible jerk, over Reed? She had to have been out of her mind.
She rinsed her face with cold water and took a deep breath, tried to reorient her life. She should be thankful she’d seen the newscast, had seen Jack’s deception and her delusion fully exposed before she got home and spoke to Reed. Her stomach churned at the thought of how ready she’d been to hurt a good, decent man for a pipedream spun out of candyfloss and lies by an unfeeling opportunist. She’d been so stupid.
Reed was always there for her. He considered her his partner and was eager to make that arrangement permanent. She’d dragged her heels, seduced by too many romantic novels into believing she should be swept away with emotion, delirious with joy.
Well, she’d been swept away, all right. There was a reason flash floods were called natural disasters.
Casey left the sanctuary of the restroom and re-entered the waiting area for her flight. People around her sat and stood, talked on their phones, admonished their children. She saw them, heard them, but from a distance, like watching a television show through a neighbor’s open window. They were just so many disconnected people and incidents stuck together by the glue of time and place.
When her flight was called, she reached into her backpack and pulled out her cell phone. She stared at it for a moment before punching in the number.
Voicemail answered. She said, “Reed, it’s Casey. I’m on my way home.”
Jack braced himself as he jumped out of the aircraft and ducked under the rotors, surveying the unwelcome approach of a phalanx of reporters and cameras. From this second on, his every word, every move, every blink of the eye would be recorded. He lifted a weary hand to the crowd. He desperately wanted to turn around to see if Casey was watching, to see her face one more time before his world butted in, but that would be a dead giveaway. One of those predatory reporters would instinctively figure out there was someone of interest still in the helicopter. He wouldn’t do that to her. He’d done enough.
What was she thinking right now, seeing the throngs of people, the media circus—her version of hell—spread out before him? Was she horrified? Angry? Would she ever speak to him again?
The twins, tall and dark and welcome, appeared by his side, each clapping a hand onto a shoulder.
Justin wore his habitual grin and raised his voice above the sound of the helicopter. “You know, if you needed a break from us, all you had to do was say. Woulda been a helluva lot easier than surfing the Colorado River into nowhere, little brother.”
Nocona just smiled. “Glad you’re back. Sorry about the crowd. Ramona’s thing.”
“Figured.”
Jack kept the smile in place as the twins hustled him to the waiting limo. He watched the opening car door but it was only Ramona who gracefully stepped out. She hadn’t brought Emma. As her feet touched the tarmac, he heard the rotors of the ’copter spin up and felt the sting of flying sand. Unable to withstand the tug in his gut, he glanced back as the aircraft lifted off and whirled Casey away, ripping out his heart.
He watched for a second too long, waiting until
resolve covered his pain, like thick steel plates sliding into place. He would lose her now, he knew that. But he would get her back, he would free himself from the prison he’d created.
Ramona shimmied up next to him, taking his arm, playing the wife faint with relief. But he wouldn’t act out the lie of their relationship for the media, not for Ramona, not for anyone. He stopped short of thrusting her away, which, with the grip she had on his arm, would have been difficult, but he would not play the adoring husband to her devoted wife. His gut felt leaden and he wanted nothing more than to escape to a dark, quiet hole to plan his escape from this charade.
And then…redemption and defeat. A small figure bulleted out of the car and raced toward him, screaming, “Daddy!”
His world lit up. He dropped to his knees to receive his daughter, his captor, into his arms.
Chapter Twenty-One
Merely spotting Reed’s face in the waiting area was a relief to Casey. Seeing his rock-solid form, steady and sure in his suit and tie, his dark hair neatly combed, everything just as it should be, she could almost feel her feet attach more firmly to the ground.
Reed’s eyes landed on her and his face relaxed. In the reflection of his protective gaze, she recognized herself, her place in the world, for the first time in two weeks. He moved to intercept her, and then it started.
A blinding light went off in Casey’s face. “She’s over here! Casey! Miss Lord! How does it feel to be home? How did you survive? What did you eat?”
A microphone was shoved in her face. Her heart raced and her face sprouted a sheen of sweat. She stopped in her tracks, staring at the reporters advancing on her. The passengers behind her trying to disembark grumbled and bumped into her. But she was paralyzed. Her eyes darted around, looking for escape.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please give Ms. Lord some space. She’s been through an ordeal.” A commanding voice rose over the cacophony of questions and flashbulbs. Reed shouldered his way through the crowd, making good use of his imposing size and his former skill as an offensive linesman. In seconds he was beside Casey, his arm encircling her protectively. He tucked her into his side like a football and moved through the human barrier. The familiar smell of his aftershave was comforting, his arm around her stabilizing. Reed talked to the press, taking her part. “I’m sure she’d be happy to answer some questions later, but now she needs to recover.”
“We just want to ask some quick questions,” someone shouted.
“I understand, but later would be better,” Reed said. “I’m taking her home for much-needed rest.”
“And who are you?” a long-faced reporter asked, holding up a microphone.
“Reed Trabor. Her fiancé.”
This was news to Casey, but she wasn’t going to dispute it just then. She was too busy being grateful.
Reed steered her to a waiting taxi, ushered her inside and turned to the handful of reporters who’d followed them. “Here’s my card. Call if you want some information later.” He handed out cards and climbed into the taxi.
She looked over her shoulder at the receding melee as they pulled away from the curb.
“You okay?”
“Not great, but I’m okay. Thanks for dealing with them, Reed. I didn’t expect that kind of reception. I panicked a little, I guess.”
He leaned back and smiled. “Oh, I don’t mind—I know how you are about them.” He tapped the end of her nose playfully. “I can think of better ways to make the news—ways that don’t involve me being scared to death about you.”
“How did they find out? Besides Mom, you’re the only person I called.”
He dismissed her question with casual flip of his hand. “It’s the press. It’s what they do.” He planted a kiss on her forehead. “I thought you’d never get back. Literally, for a while there.”
Guilt trickled through her but, as emotions went, it had too much competition from pain. Reed had worried about her, but his concern was only for the physical. He’d never know that her bumps and bruises, the toll on her body, were the least of her torments. He’d never know that the trauma induced by the flash flood didn’t compare to the fathomless wound inflicted afterwards, when she was supposedly safe. He’d never know about Jack.
“Yeah, it took longer than I thought. I feel…tired. Just tired. But I’ll be fine.”
Reed took her hand. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you. It’s been a long couple of weeks.” He flashed a grin at her. “Good thing I’d already gotten a job by the time I heard about the flash flood, or I would have been way too distracted.”
“Did you? Reed, that’s great. Where? Is it one of the jobs you wanted?”
“It’s the job I wanted. Aide to Senator Patricia Carr, one of the premier movers and shakers on Capitol Hill.”
“An aide to… I thought you wanted an analyst job at the NSA…?”
“Yeah, well. That didn’t work out. But this job will be terrific experience, no matter which way I go.”
“Which way you go? I don’t—oh, never mind, you can tell me later. Anyway, congratulations. It’s something to celebrate.”
He squeezed her arm. “I think we’ll have more than one thing to celebrate.”
She should have seen it coming. Heaven knows he’d dropped enough hints. But, for some reason, after Reed had taken them to her apartment and waited patiently while she had a long, hot shower and dressed in something other than a T-shirt and shorts, she was completely floored when he pulled a jeweler’s box out of his suit pocket and showed her a diamond ring.
He looked down at her, his blue eyes shining with conviction. “Casey, I want you for my partner in life. The idea of losing you was horrible. I don’t want to take that chance again. I know you’ve had doubts…but you know I’ll be good to you, I’ll give you everything you need.”
She just stood there gawking at the ring, since no words came readily to mind. It was traditional, but not his grandmother’s heirloom ring, which Reed had previously hinted would be hers one day. The single solitaire diamond was impressive and eye-catching, a paean to wealth. So different from Jack’s ring, which hinted of twinkling stars in the sky.
Mentally dancing around the barriers her mind kept tossing up, she addressed the obvious hitch. “Your parents…?”
The muscle in his jaw tightened. “It’s my decision, not theirs. Anyway, they’ll be fine with it.”
“Uh, the same parents who referred to me as backwoods trailer trash? You think they’ll be fine with you marrying me?”
Reed glanced away. “That was just a…misunderstanding. In any case, I know you, they don’t. I want to marry you. We really could have a great partnership, you know.”
Casey’s mind skipped nimbly over her resistance. She and Reed did work well together. Despite differences in their family backgrounds, they’d both gone to the same university, knew the same people, talked about the same things, lived in the same intellectual world. There’d be no impulsive leaping off random cliffs with Reed. She found it touching that he was willing to defy his parents to marry her, for she held no illusion about the Trabors’ attitude, Reed’s assurances notwithstanding. His parents were already horrified that he’d even dated someone so far beneath his class, and they didn’t even know about her mother. Reed protected her mother’s secret shame as zealously as Casey did, because he understood the desperation behind it. He wouldn’t abandon them, not like her father.
Not like Jack.
Reed was everything she’d hoped for in a mate—solid and dependable and knowable. It was embarrassing that she’d even considered her interaction with Jack as a relationship—it hadn’t been a relationship, it had been a farce. He’d offered her nothing, because he had nothing to offer. It was all an illusion.
But it had felt real. Heady, dizzying, thrilling—it had snagged her like a barbed hook, embedded so deeply in her heart that all the emotional squirming, wriggling and writhing in the world wouldn’t free her. She knew it would be there forever, that she could
never excise it without ripping out her heart.
But she could cut the line.
She leaned her head on Reed’s sturdy shoulder. “Yes, I think we could, Reed.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
A month after her hurried wedding and abbreviated honeymoon—a long weekend in Barbados—Casey decided to fly to Tennessee to help her mom through a minor surgical procedure. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but when her mother mentioned it, Casey jumped at the chance. Her new life as a newlywed hadn’t gone exactly as she’d envisioned.
Maybe she’d expected too much of her new relationship with Reed. Maybe it was unreasonable to hope that the spurt of romance he’d displayed after her rescue would find its way into their bedroom and spark up their sex life. It hadn’t, and she’d had to struggle to not let her disappointment show—this was life, after all, not a well-scripted fantasy.
Reed was Reed. Competent, considerate and practical. Passion had never been his driving force. That hadn’t changed, and she shouldn’t expect it to. Still, it required a mental adjustment. She hoped that if she gave herself a few days to decompress and get back to reality, everything would be fine. Things had been hectic, after all.
She’d barely stepped off the plane when her mother raced up and hugged her. For the first time in forever, her mom felt pliant, like a human, not a collection of twigs tied together with too-tight strings.
“Oh, Casey, I’m so happy for you. Thank you so much for coming. I know I could manage by myself—it’s only a little procedure—but I’m so glad you’re here.” Her hazel eyes sparkled; the worry lines that time had etched between her eyebrows were smoothed by her smile. Dark hair, streaked with gray, was now short and stylish—the pulled-back ponytail she’d always worn had been a casualty of Reed’s mother’s enforcement of a supposed Trabor family tradition, a spa day for the bride and her mom at Mrs. Trabor’s expense.