Breathless (Players to Men)

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  “Tanner called, said you’d been in an accident—are you okay?”

  I recognized that voice. Leland Sinclair. Tensed. Worried. So unlike the cool, cultured tone I expected.

  “And it took you this long to get here?”

  “He just told me. I got in my car and raced over.”

  “It must be a big disappointment that it wasn’t me in the crash,” Max said, tone flat. “I remember…everything. Mom’s accident. Why it happened. Everything.”

  Oh, Max. My heart hurt for him, hearing the anguish in his voice.

  “How could you? How could you do that to Mom? She loved you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know. You cheated on her. She was leaving you. I was bringing her back home to talk to you, but she didn’t want that. I insisted. She pulled the steering wheel from me—that’s when the accident occurred. I wasn’t drunk…” His voice broke. “I did not kill her. And you let me believe I did.” His words were filled with such agony.

  “What?” His father sounded shaken. “I never said you killed your mother.”

  “Not according to Cecilia.”

  “What do you mean?” A dangerous edge scored Leland Sinclair’s tone.

  “She never came right out and said so, only that I should give you time and space to get over me crashing Mom’s car and killing her.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re just distraught over your girlfriend being hurt.”

  Silence. Knowing Max, he’d probably shut off from his father, it was the only way he knew how to protect himself.

  “Cecilia was concerned about your slide into drinking and fighting. She thought it was best to give you space so you could accept what had happened—”

  “I didn’t need space, I needed my father.” There was so much pain in his tone, I wondered if his father even heard what lay behind Max’s words.

  “You should thank Logan for me coming to the barbeque. She wanted me to give you a chance. Of course, you never saw that. All you thought was that she isn’t good enough for a Meade-Sinclair. But she’s perfect for me. You want to marry Cecilia, go ahead. I don’t care.”

  Footsteps. Then the door shut quietly behind him. He crossed to the bed.

  The witch. She played father against son. Probably did the same thing with his mother.

  “You okay?” I asked quietly.

  “Yeah…” He sat on the edge of the bed. Shoulders hunched, head bowed. “No…I’m not all right. But I’m damn glad I got that out.” His chest heaved as he pulled in a harsh breath. Then he glanced at me. “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I was.” I stroked his back with my good hand. “Come, lie down.”

  He lay beside me again, gently easing me back into the crook of his arm. I rested my throbbing hand on his chest. When he simply stared at the darkened ceiling, I said, “I heard, Max.”

  Silence.

  “Max—”

  “No. There’s nothing more to be said. He doesn’t give a shit about me.”

  “He came the moment he heard about the accident. That has to count for something?”

  “Drop it, Logan.” A tic worked his jaw. Clearly, he hated that I’d defend his father even a little. “I no longer care.”

  I just wanted them to give each other a chance, but I sighed and let it go. For now.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Max

  It was past noon when we arrived back at Logan’s apartment. I couldn’t wait to leave the damn hospital. No matter that I’d gotten my memories back, I hated the place.

  “How did the weekend go?” Ray asked, coming in from the kitchen, eating a bagel. Her gaze landed on Logan’s bruised face and bandaged wrist. She sprinted over. “What the hell happened?”

  “Just a small accident. I’m fine, really…” She smiled as if to reassure Ray then sent me a quick, worried glance. I didn’t say anything. This decision was hers.

  She heaved a deep breath. “I crashed Max’s Jeep.”

  “What?” Color drained from Ray’s face. “How the heck did that happen?”

  Logan gave me another wary look. I nodded. Hell, Ray knew almost everything about me.

  “Let me have something to drink, and I’ll tell you, ‘kay?”

  Ray whisked Logan away. I dropped the SUV keys on the sideboard. It had surprised the hell out of me when Tanner had offered his Range Rover since the Jeep was out of commission.

  I made my way to Logan’s studio and stopped at my keyboard. Absently, I ran my fingers over the keys, and Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata filled the quiet studio. My anger at the world at large had eased some now that I had closure over my mother’s death. My right hand hurt a little, but it didn’t stop me from continuing the melody. I had decisions to make about my life.

  Music helped me de-stress. It’s why I sought solace in it. In my pain, I was struggling to find a way to anchor myself so I didn’t finally take that one-way trip to silence everything.

  While I enjoyed playing the piano, it was more for my pleasure, not something I wanted to do long-term as work. I liked finances. Those several months I’d interned at Sinclair Investments Inc., I’d been caught up in the intense activities, the wheeling and dealing of handling projects, the excitement when major clients were signed. Yeah, that’s what I missed, the challenge. The harder it was to nail, the sweeter it tasted when the deal closed.

  Besides, I wanted something better to offer Logan.

  ***

  Weak sunlight seeped into the bedroom as I stirred awake the following morning, curled around Logan’s warm body… I had actually slept! It knocked me sideways for a few minutes.

  She’d fallen asleep early after taking her pain meds. I’d watched TV for a while, my mind on everything that had occurred so when I’d crawled in beside her, it had been past two…that made it five hours of solid sleep. Shit!

  I stroked her hips. She didn’t stir. Usually, I’d push her thighs apart and suck her into orgasmic wakefulness…but I had things to do. And she needed the rest.

  I rolled off the bed and headed for the shower.

  Ten minutes later, back in the bedroom, I pulled on boxer briefs then my jeans. Logan was still asleep. But knowing her, the moment she awoke, she’d be raring to go, trying to do jobs that would put more strain on her hurt wrist.

  My gaze drifted over her, my feelings overwhelming me. Thank God I had gone to Peru. If I’d stayed in the States, I would’ve self-destructed. Coming back and meeting Logan had toppled me off that deadly path and put me back on the straight and narrow.

  I crossed to her side and stroked her inky hair away from her face. I had no idea how it had happened, how she’d come to mean so much to me. I just knew that believing that I’d killed the one person I loved most in the world had been slowly destroying me.

  Her eyelids fluttered, and she peered at me with slumberous golden eyes. My breath caught. My heart expanded. Music might have been my escape during my dark days, but she was the song in my heart.

  “Hey.” She smiled, bringing out the tiny dimple near her mouth. I kissed the tantalizing thing.

  She turned, her lips gliding over mine briefly. “You’re up early?”

  “Yeah.” I helped her up and pushed another pillow behind her so she could lay back. “I have a few things I need to see to. So take it easy until I get back, okay?”

  “What exactly can I do with only one hand, huh? I’m not even sure if I can paint,” she grumbled.

  “Watch movies.” I headed for the closet I now shared with her. “You like that. I’ll join you when I get back.” I retrieved a black tee from the shelf.

  “Where are you going?” She raised her hand and swept back her hair in a languorous movement. It pushed her breasts forward and damn, I found it utterly sexy. My body hardened. Before my plans got laid to waste, I put the damn shirt on. Answered. “To the offices, to see my father. I’ve made a decision.”

  She eyed me for a moment
, then nodded.

  “Oh, by the way,” I said, sitting beside her and pulling on my socks and boots, “Mrs. Renner called last night, said something about her son coming back?”

  “Darn.”

  I glanced sideways at her. “What’s wrong?”

  Logan gently rubbed her bandaged wrist, lines creasing her smooth brow. “I was renting this apartment while her son worked overseas, but with him coming back, we’ll have to find a new place.”

  I kissed her brow and rose. “Don’t worry about that for now. Rest, I’ll be back in a few hours, and we can discuss it then.”

  “Max?”

  I picked up my cell from the nightstand, and at her wary tone, I looked at her. “Yeah?”

  “I spoke to your father…well, more like told him off—”

  “What?”

  She grimaced a little. “At the mansion. I overhead, Max—I wasn’t eavesdropping,” she hastily added, “but the study door hadn’t shut… I was really mad and hurt at what he’d said, and I told him exactly what I thought of his awful attitude toward you, and what he’d missed out by not giving you a chance…”

  As I listened to her, my chest tightened. After she was done, she eyed me warily.

  I dropped to the bed like a felled tree and hugged her tightly, unable to swallow past the lump in my throat. This girl. “You’re amazing, you know that? Most would run, not confront my father.”

  A wry smile tipped her mouth. “I was too furious to be scared.”

  “Thank you, baby, but you don’t have to fight my battles.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Maybe. But I love you, and no one gets to rag on you like that.”

  An hour later, I strode into the lobby of the steel and chrome skyscraper of Sinclair Investments Inc. As usual, heads turned when I crossed to the bank of elevators, their frowns of distaste evident. Clearly, with my biker appearance, I didn’t fit the mold for this place.

  Like I cared. I rode the elevator up to the top floor, still in daze. I couldn’t get over what Logan had done.

  Hell, it sure would have been something to see, the legendary Iceman slain by my girl.

  As I stepped out into the corridor, my cell beeped. Retrieving it from my pocket, I glanced at the truncated message and frowned at the name. Mr. E. S. Soames. He was one of the trustees of my mother’s estate. With my luck, it was probably to reiterate that I wasn’t getting a penny from the trust until I was on my deathbed. I opened it. And scanned the message…

  Seems my trust fund was mine now. I had to meet with him—

  “Mr. Meade-Sinclair?” I looked up at my father’s PA. Her fake smiles and barely concealed disapproval were starting to annoy. At my cold stare, the smile died. Cool, professional once more. Good.

  “I’ll let him know you’re here,” she said.

  I slid my cell back into my jeans pocket, cooled my heels, and waited while she put through the requisite call stating my presence.

  “He’ll see you now, Mr. Meade-Sinclair.”

  I walked into my father’s domain. Cool, gray eyes studied me, edged with curiosity as I strode across to an armchair and sat down. After the fracas at the hospital two nights ago, he probably didn’t expect to see me. I didn’t bother with pleasantries. If I could help it, I would never speak to him again, but I wanted to work here, so the devil had to be paid his dues.

  “My degree, I’ll finish it part-time.” I got straight to the point. “I want a job here. I don’t care if I start in the mail room.” I wasn’t sure if they had one of those anymore. I’d work my way up from janitor level if need be. As Logan was my heart, this was my heritage. And I’d damn well claim it.

  After a minute of silence that was starting to grate, my father rose and crossed to the sideboard. He poured a finger of bourbon, looked back at me. “You want anything?”

  Now that was a surprise. I shook my head. Heck, it was nine in the morning. Whatever.

  “You’re just like your mother,” he said, staring at the glass in his hand.

  I didn’t want to go over that again. “Look—”

  “In the end, the business is all we have, isn’t it?”

  I had no idea what the hell was going on with him, so I remained silent.

  “It’s better than being with a manipulative woman.”

  I narrowed my eyes. If this was about my mother or Logan…

  “Very well,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning. Since you did intern here and hopefully remember some of the ropes, report to Tanner.”

  I rose and headed for the door.

  “I saw you play that day.”

  Frowning, I turned. “What?”

  “At the music hall downtown. Jack called me, though I think it was more for media damage control.” A wry smile twisted his lips. “You’re very talented, no surprise there. You had L.A. Phil and San Francisco Symphony wanting you along with a few others despite your rather unorthodox entrance. Why did you turn down the offers?”

  Was this an olive branch? From the same man, who not so long ago, had said I’d be a penniless musician?

  “Because it’s not what I want,” I admitted. “While I like composing pieces and playing the piano, this”—I glanced around the office—“is my legacy. Besides, I like the competition, the fights with dealings in mergers and acquisitions far more.” Then added, “I only played at the music hall to make a point with those stuck-up assholes.”

  I wasn’t sure if there was a glimmer of a smile on his face or not. He set the glass on the sideboard. “It’s because of her? Logan?”

  Did he just call Ila, Logan? And how did I even begin to describe what she was to me?

  “If it weren’t for her, I doubt I would have found the strength to find my way back from what was happening to me. It was slowly killing me. She was the one who made me see that. She pulled me back.”

  A slow nod. “I’m sorry about what happened. I should have made more of an effort with you...” He paused as if drawn back to another time. “I fell in love with your mother the moment I saw her, but she was highly temperamental. I guess the artistic types generally are. She agreed to marry me as long as she could play, so I let her have her music. But as her popularity grew, she went on more and more tours…yet she wasn’t happy. It was like she was searching for herself, and I had to give her the freedom to do that. At times, she’d take you with her. I didn’t care for that, but it created peace at home, so I let her be.”

  “No, Dad, you shouldn’t have given in so easily. You should have fought for her. She was lost. You should have led her back home. One thing I’ve learned from loving Logan. It’s always about the other person.”

  His gaze flicked to me then he stared out the window at the high-rise building opposite. A long silence passed. “She never loved me, not the way I did her.”

  The words were so quiet, I wasn’t sure he’d meant to say them aloud.

  “For her, it was always her music. For me, it was all about her. No matter our problems, I never cheated on her with anyone.” He looked back to me. “As long as she was in my life, it was all that mattered. But I realized I couldn’t hold her attention for long. Even when she was with me, her mind was elsewhere. I later found out that she was in love with someone else—another musician. He’d died in a boating accident just before we met. It’s probably why she agreed to marry me. It didn’t change how I felt about her. I’d hoped one day she would love me…”

  He scrubbed a hand down his face. “It’s why I buried myself in my work during those difficult times. And after her death, it was the only way I could cope with losing her…”

  Damn Cecilia and her deceit. How long had she planted lies in my mother’s mind? Anger unfurled, but I tamped it down. Guess we’d never know. Unless my father had Cecilia strapped to a rack and tortured to get the truth out. But the damage was done. It wouldn’t bring Mom back.

  I was so damn grateful Logan loved me the same way I did her. I understood my father’s pain, but too much had happened in the last
four years for me to walk over and hug him, comfort him. At least the antagonism between us had eased.

  “You brought her joy,” he said after a moment. “As a pianist, you would have made great strides. But I didn’t want you on a path that would take over your life—you would have lost her.”

  Logan? My heart faltered at the thought. Something else struck me. With any orchestra I ended up with, I would have travelled. And if I became a household name like Mom had, there would be tours. Worldwide. Logan wouldn’t leave, not with her mother’s health on the line. Hell, she gave up her dream to travel.

  I nodded in acknowledgement.

  “I’m not marrying Cecilia.”

  Much as I disliked the woman, I put that aside. “Look, if you love her—”

  He shook his head. “I don’t. I was lonely…” A shrug. “Cecilia lied to your mother about us having an affair. I never cheated on her while she was alive, Max. I thought Claudia resented me for not being whom she wanted. It’s hard to compete with a dead love. It’s why I spent so much time here…”

  I had no idea what to tell my father to ease his grief, all that came out was, “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. I have this place. It’s better. Stressful at times, but more honest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  With a nod, I left and headed for Tanner’s office farther down the corridor. His secretary wasn’t at her desk, so I walked in.

  Tanner looked up, cocked an eyebrow at me, but held up a finger as he finished a call.

  My thumbs hooked in my front pockets, I strolled to the scenic windows overlooking the bay, the conversation with my father replaying in my head. Now that I’d learned the truth, I understood why he hid behind that cold facade. When the one you loved didn’t return your feelings, it had to be like a painful wound, one you could never heal when the person holding the remedy wasn’t interested.

  Most would cheat, look for solace in another’s arms, but my father hadn’t. Sadness filled my heart for my parents.