by Desiree Holt
“Is this a bribe or what?” Sean walked into the kitchen, pulling on a T-shirt. “What are you softening me up for?”
“Sit down. I need a plan, and you need to help me.” He had to find a way to get Tara to at least listen to him. “I love my wife—god, have I ever even called her that? And I’ve screwed up to the max. I don’t deserve a second chance, but you have to help me get one.”
Sean just looked at him, waiting.
“You have to help me figure out what to do,” Cole insisted. “I just can’t think straight.”
They ate in silence, Cole wrapped in misery, Sean watching him. When they finished, Cole cleaned up in the kitchen and Sean went out on the balcony and called Jake.
“Tara’s much better,” Jake told him in answer to his question. “Not great but she’ll survive. What’s up?”
“He’s ready, and he wants me to help him figure out how to do this.”
“Tell the truth,” Jake said and hung up.
In the kitchen, Sean refilled his coffee mug and studied his brother. “All right. I think I have a plan, but there’s a catch. You have to tell Tara about Maggie and Molly.”
“I can’t.” Cole’s voice was agonized. “She’ll never want anything to do with me after that.”
“Cole, you’ve built this thing up in your mind until it’s far bigger than it needs to be. If you really want a relationship with Tara, you have to be honest. You have to tell her what the real problem with Molly is. Otherwise, you can forget about any second chance.”
Cole was silent for so long Sean wondered if he’d turned to stone.
“All right,” he said at last. “Now, tell me how I’m going to get my wife back.”
“Okay,” Sean poured himself more coffee. “Here’s the plan.”
And he told Cole in great detail what he was going to do and how he was going to do it.
* * * *
Tara was glad to be home, even if the house was filled with painful memories that kept prodding at her. She felt, if not refreshed by her stay at the ranch, at least released from the grip of emotional disaster. Regardless of the circumstances, she and Cole had taken a leap into intimacy. Somewhere in all this mess were real feelings propelling both of them. If they could just negotiate the obstacle course, maybe they could examine how they really felt about each other.
She wasn’t sure how she would ever sleep in her bed again without thinking about that night. She still had so many unresolved conflicts. Loving Cole was not enough if he didn’t love her back. Despite what Lindsey said, she needed him to tell her that himself. She would listen to whatever he had to say then decide what to do next.
She went to her room early, emotionally and physically spent from the previous days. She forced herself to crawl into her bed and, with an effort, banished the Thanksgiving night images from her mind. Unbelievably, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep and didn’t wake until the sun was bright and she heard Molly calling from her crib.
Taking advantage of the beautiful day, Tara decided to walk Molly in the stroller. The weather was gorgeous if you were celebrating the holidays. She wasn’t doing much of that, but she could at least enjoy the cool, crisp, sunshine-washed weather.
She remembered to take her cell phone in case Cole called, mindful of what happened the time she’d forgotten it. She actually heard from Jake first.
“Where are you?” he demanded. “I’m cooling my heels on your front steps.”
“I’m taking a walk with Molly.” She frowned at the phone. “What are you doing at my house?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here. How far away are you?”
“Just a few blocks. I’ll be right there.”
He was standing by the door when she got there, looking at his watch with impatience. He plucked Molly from her stroller and hugged her, planting a kiss on her cheek. “How’s my beautiful girl today? Do you know we’re hoping for one just like you? Do you think that’s possible?”
“Jake.” Tara tried to conceal her impatience. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”
“Inside the house. Then we’ll talk.”
She put Molly in her highchair with a cookie and turned to Jake. “All right, what’s going on?” she demanded.
“Go pack a bag for Molly,” he ordered. “She’s coming to the ranch to stay until tomorrow. Don’t argue. Luisa’s more excited about this than Lindsey. And where’s the car seat?”
“What? Not until you tell me what’s going on. Have you heard from Cole?”
“More than I ever want to.” He blew out a breath. “Tara, you are a wonderful woman and a special friend, but just this once, will you shut up and do as you’re told? Where’s the car seat?”
“In my car in the garage,” she said, dazed.
“I’ll get it. Go pack her things.”
Realizing she would get no more answers, she handed Molly to Jake and went up to the nursery to gather some of the little girl’s things. When she got back downstairs, Jake was standing in the kitchen still holding Molly, a huge gift-wrapped box sitting on the table.
He pointed to it. “This is from Lindsey. You’re not supposed to open it until after I leave. She said it’s not what she wanted, but I only had time to take her into Cibolo this morning so she had to settle for what she could find in town. And no questions, remember?” he said, as he saw her open her mouth.
“All right. Molly hasn’t had lunch yet. I was just going to feed her.”
“No problem,” Jake grinned. “Luisa is delighted to feed anybody she can.”
“Okay.” She stared at him. “Are you going to tell me what this is about now?”
“You have a date tonight, Mrs. Cassidy. With your husband. He’ll be here at seven, and all you have to do is be ready and waiting.” He picked up Molly to take her with him. “Cut him a little slack, will you? Hold onto the thought that he’s madly in love with you and shaking in his shoes about seeing you. Okay?”
“But…”
“Just call us in the morning and let us know if you’ve shot him to death and where we should come to pick up the pieces.”
“Wait, I…”
“No more questions.” Jake gave her a swift peck on the cheek, shifted Molly in his arms and was gone.
Tara closed the front door and leaned against it, forcing herself to breathe. Cole was coming to the house. He was coming to see her. She was filled both with dread and anticipation.
When she opened the package from Lindsey, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Inside were bottles of bath salts and bath oil, a gold and pearl clip for her hair and a long, silk gown in pale yellow. Cut temptingly low both front and back, the material was sensuous and luxuriant, and she knew it would cling to every curve of her body.
Lindsey had enclosed a note with the gown that said, “Knock him dead, Tara. And you can’t wear anything under this. It shows every line. If you decide to throw him out, at least, let him see what he’ll be missing.”
She dropped into one of the kitchen chairs, holding the silk gown and allowed herself one more crying jag. Then she took the box and went upstairs.
Chapter Eleven
A long bath was a luxury Tara didn’t indulge in much these days, so it was heaven just to sit in the scented water and close her mind to everything. Her muscles were loose and relaxed when she finally climbed out and turned on the shower to wash her hair. A brand new bottle of scented lotion stood on the vanity. Despite everything, her body tingled at the thought of seeing Cole again, and she felt wanton as she slowly massaged the lotion into every inch of her skin. Then she dried her hair, brushing it until it shone, and pulled it back with the clip Lindsey had sent. Carefully, she sprayed perfume on every one of her pulse points, even dusting some across her triangle of curls. She took extra pains with her makeup, redoing it twice because her hands shook so much.
She was nervous, afraid and aroused. A deadly combination. What if they couldn’t stand the sight of each other? What if she wanted
him, and he turned away from her? What if that terrible night was an impossible obstacle to climb? Deliberately she banished her morbid thoughts and went back to dressing.
When she slipped on the silk gown, she nearly took it off again. She hadn’t put on any lingerie, as Lindsey had instructed and she looked more naked with the gown on than off. She fastened her wedding earrings in place and took a last look at herself. Well, she’d come out firing on all guns.
She had no idea how long he would stay. She didn’t know if she should prepare food or if he wanted to go out or what. She’d just have to play it by ear.
In the living room, she noticed that logs and kindling were set in the fireplace. She assumed Emilio must have taken care of that the day he’d brought her home. She had just lit the fire when the doorbell rang. She looked at the mantel clock. Seven on the dot. Trembling like a teenager on a first date, she took a deep breath to steady herself and opened the door.
Cole was elegantly dressed in a gray suit, striped dress shirt and dark tie. Her heart skipped at the sight of him, but she didn’t know if it was desire or nervous anticipation of what they might say to each other. His face was so full of tension it accentuated the hard planes and angles. His arms were loaded with packages, and he looked scared to death. He started to say something then looked at her, and his jaw dropped.
“My god, you’re gorgeous. Why haven’t I told you that before?” He just stood there, gaping at her.
She was flustered by the compliment. “Thank you.” Looking over his shoulder, she saw his car in the driveway. “Why didn’t you park in the garage?” she asked, curious.
“I needed to be sure you wanted me to come in,” he told her. “I didn’t know if you’d just slam the door in my face.”
“Of course not.” She trembled. “Please come in. It’s cold out here.”
He plucked a huge florist box off the pile in his arms. “I have some flowers here that I think need water.”
“Some flowers?” she said, incredulous at what she saw as she lifted the cover. Four dozen perfect roses, pink, white, red and yellow glistened against the nest of soft green paper. She touched the petals gently, caressing their velvety softness and inhaling their rich fragrance. She felt as if she were standing in a flower garden.
“Are they all right?” he asked, sounding anxious. “I had no idea what your favorite color is so I took them all.”
“Cole, they’re beautiful.” She was overwhelmed. “You’re right. They should be in water. Come into the kitchen while I get a vase. Then we’ll bring them into the living room with us.”
Cole followed her and put his other packages on the kitchen table while she arranged the roses. “I gave the maitre d’ at Le Reve enough money to retire on if he’d squeeze in a reservation for us. I had no idea how tonight would turn out, but I wanted to have a nice place to take you if everything was okay. And if you wanted to go, that is.”
“Why don’t we just wait and see what happens?” she said.
He held up a long, thin shopping bag. “I brought some of the Merlot you order when we go out.” He pulled out a second bottle and grinned like a small boy offering an apple to the teacher. “And some champagne for later, just in case. I’ve sworn off the hard stuff, for sure. It only gets me into deep trouble. Shall I get out the wine glasses?”
“Yes. If you would.” She was afraid her hands were trembling too much to handle them.
He put the rest of his packages on the table. “I’ll leave these other things here for the moment.”
“Why don’t you take the wine and the glasses into the living room while I fix the flowers? I lit the fire, and it’s very comfortable in there.”
When she joined him, he was standing in front of the fireplace, the light from the flames playing across his face. As she walked, the gown moved over her body and she could see him staring at her, eyes glittering with barely concealed desire. Little jolts of electricity traveled along her nerve endings.
He handed her a filled wine glass and raised his own. “A toast. To the most magnificent woman in the world. And a prayer that you’ll have some understanding of what I’m going to tell you.”
Her stomach knotted. “Why don’t you sit down?” She gestured toward one of the wing chairs.
“I think I’ll stand for the moment. I can talk to you better this way. I want to get this all out right now before I lose my nerve.” He looked hard at her face, as if searching for some indication of her mood. “Tara, I’m so sorry about Thanksgiving night. There’s no justification for any of the things I said or did. You deserve much better than that.”
“Yes, I do.” She bit her lip, not knowing what else to say.
Cole raked his fingers though his hair. “I’ve been so terrified of losing you. The things I said that night? I wanted to take them back the minute they were out of my mouth, make them go away, but you were already up the stairs. I felt worse when I finally admitted to myself how much I love you, but I didn’t know how to fix things.”
“So you decided to get drunk instead.” She said the words flatly, watching him.
“No. I was just trying to blunt the pain and find some answers. By the time I realized they weren’t in the bottle, I was already wasted.”
“Why didn’t you let me know how you felt?” she asked. “What did you think would happen? That I’d run away?” She fiddled with her wine glass, forcing herself to be calm. “Surely you had to sense I had feelings for you, too.”
“Truthfully? I was afraid.”
She stared at him. “Afraid of what?”
“Of my own life, I think.” He took a healthy sip of wine. “And in the end, afraid of what you’d say if I came to you sober and gave you the whole story. And told you I loved you.”
“What story?” she cried. “What is it that’s so hard for you to get out? The real issue here, whether you want to see it or not, isn’t what happened the other night. The root of the problem is Molly. Everything leads back to her. If you can’t tell me the truth, if you won’t let me know what this is all about, then I don’t know what we have to talk about.”
He drew another deep breath, as if sucking courage from the air. “You’re right. I need to tell you things you should have known from the beginning. I was just so sure if I did, you’d turn me down. Then what would I do?” He sucked in a breath. “This is an ugly story that doesn’t make me look so good, but you deserve to know it all. Then I guess the rest is up to you.”
He turned toward the fireplace, leaned his arm on the mantel and with his head bowed, told her a tale that by turns shocked and saddened her. In short sentences, he told her about the death of his parents when he was still in college, his fight to hang on to Sean who was four years younger. The decision he and Jake made to open their own company.
In fourteen years, they’d built Alamo Construction into what it was now. But while Jake put a failed marriage behind him and now had Lindsey and a child, with another on the way, Cole had avoided all but the most casual relationships. He reminded her of his vacation two years ago, the first he’d ever taken. He told her about Maggie—voluptuous, exotic and predatory—who’d targeted him that first night. The heady tropical drinks, seductive and treacherous in their sweetness.
He had an inability to properly metabolize alcohol, which was why he seldom drank anything but a glass or two of wine. But he was thousands of miles from home where no one could see if he made a fool of himself. And a week of the basest kind of lust where he never remembered one sober minute. And his haste to get away from her when he finally stopped drinking.
Then the news of her pregnancy and her demand for marriage. He was adamantly opposed to abortion, and he realized he wanted a child very badly. He was able to keep Maggie off the booze while she was pregnant, frightened to death of fetal alcohol syndrome, but the baby wasn’t a week old before she was binging again.
And in a tortured voice, he told her how Molly had captured his heart at once, how she’d made it all worthwhile, giv
en his life new purpose. Then Maggie had destroyed it all. He was a rich prize, and she’d baited the trap with someone else’s child. He still felt disgust that he’d let himself be trapped by her. Since then, he could hardly bring himself to look at the little girl without being reminded of how he’d gotten himself in this position and how he’d been betrayed.
When he finished, Tara sat rooted to her seat, stunned. She didn’t know what she’d expected to hear, but it wasn’t this awful tale of greed, deception and betrayal. How could a woman be so uncaring with the lives of a wonderful man and a beautiful child?
“I acted like a fool,” he rasped. “Something I try not to do very often, you know. Just,” he shrugged, “it happened. I was drunk and thought I was the one taking advantage of her.”
Tara sat perfectly still, not saying a word.
He began pacing again. “I don’t think Maggie and I even liked each other. What we had was lust of the basest kind. She knew how to punch my buttons and get whatever she wanted. I let her do it. You can’t be any more disgusted with me than I am with myself. I deserved what I got.”
So here it was at last. She’d known it had to be something this bad to make him behave the way he had. She’d worked with this man for two years and been married to him all these months. She knew him underneath it all—a good, decent person whose only failing was he was human. So much was clear to her now.
“I know you must hate me for the way I’ve treated the child.” He shook his head. “It was very painful admitting to myself that a big part of this was my pride.”
He took the poker and stirred the logs in the fireplace, obviously giving himself something to do. “Please try to understand. I only married Maggie because she said she was pregnant with my child. And I wanted that child. When Maggie told me the baby wasn’t even mine, I was destroyed. I’d gone through the marriage from hell for nothing.”
Tara thought of Molly, the unknowing center of the turmoil, a constant reminder of everything. Her throat tightened with emotion.