“This is a mistake,” she blurted, sliding across the bench to stand and shrug into her coat. “I shouldn’t have come here—”
“Vanessa, sit down,” Parker said, and something in his tone made her meet his gaze.
Her courage failed at what she saw there, and she dropped back into the seat, covering her face with both hands for a moment and sighing.
“Tell me, Parker. Stop playing games and say it.”
“He’s using you to repay me for something that happened a couple of years ago.”
The statement sounded so preposterous that Vanessa almost laughed out loud. Almost. “Like what?”
Parker sighed heavily and, for just a second or so, he looked honestly reluctant. “Did he mention Jenna—his ex-wife?”
Vanessa nodded. “Yes.”
The expression in Parker’s blue eyes was distant and vaguely arrogant. “What did he tell you about the divorce?”
Powerful forces battled within Vanessa, one faction wanting to stay and hear Parker out, the other clamoring for escape. “He said she had a problem with trusting him, and that she didn’t want to have children.”
Parker shook his head, as though marveling at some tacky wonder. Then, without further ado, he dropped the bomb. “She and I had an affair, Vanessa. Nick caught us together and he’s been out to get me ever since.”
For a moment the words just loomed between Vanessa and Parker, quivering with portent. Then they exploded in Vanessa’s spirit, and tears of pain filled her eyes. She put a hand to her throat and rose shakily to her feet.
“Tell me it’s a lie, Parker.”
He shrugged and, incredibly, reached for his sandwich. “I’d like to, babe, but I can’t. The truth will out, and all that.”
Vanessa turned and stumbled toward the door. The storm had come and rain was pounding on the sidewalk as she stood in the cold wind, heedless and broken. She walked slowly to the car, her hands trembling so that it took several attempts to get the key into the lock and open the door.
When she was inside, she let her forehead rest against the steering wheel and drew deep breaths until the desire to scream had abated a little. She was just fitting the key into the ignition when the door on the passenger side opened, and Parker flopped into the seat, sopping wet.
“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” he said somehow managing to look as though he really gave a damn.
“Get out,” Vanessa said. She was soaked to the skin, her hair was dripping rainwater and she knew her mascara was running down her face in dark streaks. She didn’t care about any of those things. She wanted to be alone; she needed it.
Parker actually had the gall to reach out and grip her hand. “It’s okay, Van—I’m going to take care of you. You’ll forget about DeAngelo in no time.”
Vanessa was cold and her teeth were beginning to chatter. “Get out,” she said again, and after a second’s hesitation Parker left the car, slamming the door behind him.
She drove home by rote, tears streaming down her face, and she hadn’t had time to pull herself together before Rodney appeared. He let himself in through the kitchen door, took Vanessa by the shoulders and pressed her into a chair.
“Good God,” he breathed, “you look awful! What happened? Did somebody die?”
Vanessa nodded. “Me,” she answered. “I died, Rodney—fifteen minutes ago in Toddy’s Bar and Grill.”
Rodney put a hand to her forehead and then went to the cupboard for a mug. He promptly filled it with water and shoved it into the microwave. While it was heating, he plundered the cabinets until he found Vanessa’s fruitcake brandy.
When he’d made a cup of instant coffee liberally laced with brandy, he set it on the table in front of Vanessa and sat down in the chair beside hers. “Talk to me,” he said quietly.
Vanessa reached for the mug, holding it in both hands, letting it warm her fingers. “I can’t,” she said. “Not yet.”
The door opened, and Gina slipped in. “Is everything okay?” she asked.
Vanessa averted her eyes, humiliated. She didn’t want Gina to go to her brother and report that he’d broken her. His plan of revenge had succeeded beyond his wildest expectations.
“It’s got to be about Nick,” Rodney mused.
A strangled sob escaped Vanessa.
Gina spoke softly to Rodney. “I’d better go. I’ll call you later.”
“Sure,” Rodney replied with affection, and he kissed Gina’s forehead before she left the house.
Vanessa took a steadying sip of the brandied coffee.
“So,” Rodney said, dropping back into his chair at the table, “tell me about the murder of Vanessa Lawrence back there at Toddy’s Bar and Grill.”
Vanessa shook her head. “Not now.”
“Okay,” her cousin said, “if you won’t talk, at least go upstairs and get out of those wet clothes before you catch pneumonia.”
Thinking of the important interview scheduled for Friday, Vanessa nodded woodenly. “Okay.” She got up and walked up the stairs, stiff and slow of movement, carrying her coffee with her. She took a brief hot shower, then put on flannel pajamas and collapsed on her bed.
“You love Nick that much, huh?” Rodney asked from the doorway. He’d brought another cup of coffee, probably doctored, and he proceeded toward Vanessa’s bedside.
She took the cup. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve only known him a few days.” And in that short length of time he had recreated her world.
Rodney sat down on the foot of the bed since Parker hadn’t left any of the chairs when he moved out. “Why do I get the feeling that your ex-husband had something to do with this?”
Vanessa set her coffee on the bedside table and wriggled under the covers. “Nick’s been using me,” she said, ignoring her cousin’s question. “God, Rodney, what an actor he is—you should have seen him!”
“What did Parker tell you?” Rodney persisted.
“That he had an affair with Jenna DeAngelo and Nick caught them together,” she said, and a new wave of pain washed over her as she said the words out loud.
“And you bought that?” Rodney bit off each word, clearly annoyed. “Van, you know Parker would rather climb the tallest tree and lie than stand flat-footed on the ground and tell the truth!”
Their grandfather had said those very words right after Van had introduced Parker to him. She wished she could be in Spokane now and be held in the old man’s strong, gentle arms. “What Parker said was true,” she said sadly. “I can’t explain how I know, but I do.”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Great. You’re not even going to give Nick a chance to tell his side of the story, are you?”
The mention of his name went through her like a lance. As soon as Rodney left, she would roll herself into a fetal ball and die. “He used me to get back at Parker,” she said miserably. “Now go away and leave me alone. I’m terminal.”
Rodney gave the telephone beside her bed a pointed glance. “I’ll be in my apartment if you need me,” he told her, and then he was gone.
Vanessa drank the rest of her coffee with brandy and slipped under the covers to wait for the hurting to stop. It followed her relentlessly, even into her sleep.
She awakened hours later, when the room was glowing with moonlight, to find Nick sitting on the side of the bed, looking down at her. She started to pull the covers over her head, but he caught her wrists in an inescapable grasp and held them on either side of the pillow.
“What are you doing in my house?” she spat, struggling, to no real avail, against the hands that imprisoned her with such gentle effectiveness. “Get out, and don’t ever come back!”
Even in the half darkness she saw the pain in Nick’s eyes. God, how calm and collected he was. He should have been the one to work in the broadcasting business, not her.
He spoke in a steady, though hoarse, voice. “I’m here because Gina called me and told me you were in pieces. Rodney filled me in on the rest.”
“It’s true, isn
’t it?” Vanessa ventured to ask, looking at him with wide eyes.
Nick sighed and released her hands. He shoved splayed fingers through his rain-dampened hair. “Part of it. I did come home one night and found Jenna and Parker together.”
Vanessa felt herself breaking apart inside. “And you swore revenge?”
“Hardly. I beat the hell out of him and left. He didn’t tell you that part of the story, though, did he?”
“You lied to me,” Vanessa accused. “You used me to get back at him!”
“I didn’t care enough about Jenna to do that, Vanessa,” Nick replied, still avoiding her eyes. “In one sense, I was actually relieved that it was finally over between us.”
“You’re glossing over the fact that you wanted revenge.”
“I told you,” Nick said with cold patience, “I had all the vengeance I wanted that night. Can you say you don’t remember a night when your devoted husband came home with a few cuts and bruises?”
Vanessa shuddered. She remembered all right. Parker had claimed he’d been mugged, but refused to report the incident to the police. He and Vanessa had been married a little over six months at the time. “My God,” she whispered.
Nick reached out to touch her face, and she slapped his hand away.
With a sigh, he got up and walked over to one of the windows that overlooked the street. “I think we’d better stop seeing each other for a while,” he said after a long time.
Vanessa was stunned and infuriated. If anybody was going to break off this relationship, it was going to be her. She was the one who had been wronged!
She threw back the covers and struggled out of bed. “Wait just a minute, Nick DeAngelo!” she shouted, waving her finger at him.
Instantly he was facing her, and his face was taut with fury. “Listen to me,” he ground out. “I won’t play these games, Vanessa. I’ll be damned if I’ll involve myself with another woman who refuses to trust me!”
Vanessa’s mouth dropped open.
“Goodbye,” Nick said bluntly, and then he walked out, leaving her standing there, in the middle of her bedroom, feeling even worse than she had before.
Throughout the rest of the week, Vanessa functioned like an automaton. She got up in the mornings, fed the cat, got dressed and went to work. When that was done, she went home, fed the cat again and crawled into bed, usually without supper.
By Friday, the day of her interview, she looked less than her best. Wearing some compound Margie had given her to cover the shadows under her eyes, she presented herself at WTBE-TV in her new raw silk suit.
The front she put on must have been effective because the interview went very well. Although the program wouldn’t actually go into production until after the first of the year, she was informed, the final decision would be made before Thanksgiving. Would she be able to leave Midas Network by the middle of December?
Vanessa answered yes, thanked the woman who had interviewed her and left. Some fundamental instinct told her she was going to get the job. She still wanted it very much, but the excitement was gone.
Since Nick had walked out of her bedroom three days before, so many things had stopped mattering.
She glanced at her watch and saw that it was three-fifteen. She’d promised to meet Janet Harmon for a drink, so she set out for the Olympic Four Seasons at a very reluctant pace.
Janet would probably grill her about the breakup with Nick, and Vanessa didn’t want to burst into tears in the bar of a swanky hotel.
Sure enough, her friend looked grimly determined when Vanessa met her in the elegant lobby.
“Paul and I stayed here on our wedding night,” she said to make conversation, but it was plain that Janet’s mind wasn’t on her own relationship. “How did the job interview go?”
“I think they’re going to hire me,” Vanessa answered dispiritedly as they entered the cocktail lounge and seated themselves.
“Paul will be beside himself,” Janet answered, “and not with joy, either.”
Vanessa sighed and averted her eyes for a moment. “Stop pretending you didn’t ask me here to find out what happened between Nick and me,” she said.
Janet, a pretty woman with shoulder-length dark hair and blue eyes, folded her arms on the table top and leaned forward slightly. “I don’t have to ask, Vanessa—I already know. Paul is Nick’s best friend, remember?”
A waitress came, took their orders and left again.
“I’d be very interested to hear Nick’s side of the story,” Vanessa said stiffly.
“Then why don’t you go over to DeAngelo’s after you leave here and ask him to tell it to you?” Janet replied in clipped tones.
“Oh, great,” Vanessa complained. “You’re mad at me, too!”
“I’m furious. Nick DeAngelo is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, and you’re not even going to fight for him.”
The waitress returned, setting a glass of white chablis in front of Vanessa. Janet was having a martini, and she made a small ceremony of eating the olive.
At any other time Vanessa would have been amused. As it was, she just wanted to go home, feed the cat and slink back into bed. To get it over with, she said, “I admit it. I was going to break off with Nick, and he beat me to the punch.”
“He’s a wreck,” Janet informed her. “Paul says he’s never seen Nick so low.”
Vanessa took a certain satisfaction in knowing she wasn’t the only one suffering. She lifted her wineglass to her mouth and sipped the chablis before answering, “He’ll get over it, and so will I.”
“I don’t understand this,” Janet pressed. “You fell in love with Nick the first night you met him—I know because I was there and I saw it happen. And now you’re just going to walk away without looking back?”
“I’m not going to crawl to him,” Vanessa said firmly. “I still think he used me to get back at Parker and I despise him for it.”
“You don’t know Nick very well.” Janet sighed, sounding resigned at last. “He’d never do a thing like that. He’s too open, and he hates games and little intrigues.”
“He also hates me,” Vanessa said, remembering the look in his eyes when he’d told her goodbye. “Let’s drop the subject, please, because if we don’t, I’m going to fall apart right here.”
Janet must have believed her because she didn’t mention Nick’s name again. The two women finished their drinks and parted, vowing to meet for lunch before the holidays got into full swing and there was no time.
It was four-thirty when Vanessa got home—too early to go to bed and hide from her depression. She changed into jeans and a Seahawks T-shirt, fed Sari and proceeded to the living room, which was still choked with Parker’s flowers.
She dropped one fading bouquet after another into a large plastic garbage bag and carried it out to the curb, where Rodney had already set the trash for morning pickup. She was stuffing the bag into one of the plastic cans when an ice-blue Corvette slipped sleekly into her driveway and Nick got out.
He looked as bad as she felt.
“Hi,” he said, rounding the car to stand beside Vanessa and effectively block any retreat to the house.
Even though she’d rehearsed this moment through a thousand varying versions, she wasn’t prepared to face Nick. She averted her eyes and said nothing at all.
Nick sighed, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him wedge his hands into the hip pockets of his jeans. “Damn it, Van, will you at least listen to me? I’m willing to admit I was wrong—I should have told you about Parker and Jenna.”
“Why didn’t you?” Vanessa asked, raising wary, pain-filled eyes to his face.
His formidable shoulders moved in a shrug. “It was water under the bridge to me. I didn’t think it mattered.”
Vanessa bit her lower lip. “You don’t want to be involved with a woman who doesn’t trust you—remember?”
Nick swore under his breath. “And you still don’t, right?”
Vanessa sighed. “When you�
��ve been married to a man like Parker, it doesn’t come easy.”
“Speak of the devil,” Nick marveled as a cab swept up to the curb and Parker got out.
He probably wouldn’t have been so brave if he hadn’t had another man with him. “That’s the idea, Van,” her ex-husband said, smiling as he approached, “Toss DeAngelo out with the trash and get on with your life.”
Parker’s friend, a yuppie-type wearing a three-piece suit, looked at him as though he’d gone mad.
Nick favored Parker with a slow, leisurely grin. “Keep talking,” he said. “Right now I’d like nothing better than stuffing you into one of these cans and stomping you down like a milk carton.”
Parker paled a little beneath his health-club tan, but he recovered his aplomb quickly enough. “Vanessa,” he said, evidently choosing to pretend that Nick wasn’t there, “this is Harold Barker. You’re getting a second chance, baby.”
Vanessa folded her arms, unconsciously protecting herself. “At what?” she asked in suspicious tones.
Parker looked enormously pleased with himself as he explained that Harold was the executive producer of yet another nationally syndicated talk show. “They want you to go on with me next week and help pitch the book.”
The idea was born in a rebellious area of Vanessa’s mind. She cast a sidelong look at Nick before saying expansively to Parker and Harold, “Come in, come in. This sounds like an interesting proposition.”
Nick muttered another swearword, joining them even though Vanessa had made a point of not inviting him.
“Did you want something, Mr. DeAngelo?” she asked coolly when the four of them were standing in her half-furnished living room.
Nick gave her a look that would have made a vampire cower, planted himself in front of the fireplace and folded his arms across his chest. He was clearly staying for the duration, and that pleased Vanessa, even though she felt a conflicting desire to march over there and kick him in the shins.
Over a drink, solicitously served by a doting hostess, Harold explained his concept of a show including both Parker and Vanessa. He was sure the viewing audience would enjoy hearing her reactions to the things her ex-husband had written about her.
Only Forever Page 8