Slade could feel his blood pounding in his ears. He watched as Lara hung up the phone, sighed and lazily stretched her arms over her head.
In that moment, he hated her as he’d never hated another human being in his life. It was all a lie. Everything. The things she whispered, when they made love. The way she looked at him, as if he were the center of her universe.
He wanted to go to her, sling her over his shoulder, carry her down the stairs and throw her out of his house. Or maybe shove her back on that bed, rip off her clothes and unzip his fly and take her even as she fought him off, just take her again and again until she knew goddamned well who she belonged to…
He must have done something, made a sound, because suddenly she looked around.
“Slade.” She bit her lip and rose to her feet and, damn her, she couldn’t even control the gleam of guilt that shone in her eyes. “Slade, you’re home early.”
He said nothing. What could he say, while his wife tried to smile?
“How long have you been standing there?” He could see her throat constrict as she swallowed. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” he said, his voice a monotone, barely above a whisper. He shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets because he was afraid of what he might do with them otherwise. “I know exactly what you mean, Lara.”
She smiled nervously, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and came toward him. “Did you, ah, did you overhear…?”
The towering wave of fury that threatened to drag him under must have shown on his face because she took a hurried step back when he moved. Not in time, though. He caught her by the shoulders, his hands hard on her flesh but not nearly as hard as the pain he could feel gutting his heart.
“Who is he?” he said. “Who’s the man you’re planning to meet?”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
“The man. The son of a bitch on the phone.” He shook her and her hair flew around her face. “Tell me his name!”
“There is no man.” Lara’s voice trembled. “There’s only you.”
Slade let go of her. He wanted to believe her. God, he wanted to.
“You don’t trust me,” she said.
“How can I? You lie as easily as most people breathe.” He caught hold of her again, anguish darkening his eyes. “Tell me who you were talking to.”
Lara stared into her husband’s face. She could tell him, and bare her heart to him, but what was the sense? He might pretend to believe her but the same thing would happen, again and again. Sooner or later, Slade would strip her of everything. Her pride. Her dignity. And perhaps, even, her love. It took love and trust to make a marriage, she thought, just as she’d thought it days before, at the cabin…and Slade wasn’t capable of either, when they involved her.
The realization was shattering, but he would never know it. The only thing left to her now was her pride.
“No,” she said softly, and pulled free of his grasp.
His face twisted. He raised his hand and she waited, head high, for a blow that never came. Instead he swung away from her and pounded his fist into and straight through the wall. He felt her brush past him, heard the clatter of her footsteps on the steps, but he didn’t move.
It was over. His dreams of what might have been, his hopes—everything was finished. He had a wife and a son but nothing else because he knew the truth, now, the truth he’d worked so hard to deny.
His wife was everything he’d thought she was, the embodiment of every female who’d plagued the Baron clan. She was immoral. Deceitful. Unfaithful.
And he, Heaven help him, had fallen in love with her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DAYLIGHT faded, became dusk. Dusk gave way to nightfall, but Slade hardly noticed.
Lara was gone. She’d left in a cab, an hour ago, and she’d taken Michael with her. He’d watched from the window—watched, and let it happen because he knew now that the world he’d created had been a fantasy. He’d wanted his son to have two parents and a loving home but a man couldn’t orchestrate that any more than he could tell the wind which way to blow.
His heart ached with the loss. Not of Lara—hell, he’d known what she was when he married her. He didn’t love her. A couple of hours sitting here, in the darkening room, and he’d shaken that foolish illusion out of his head.
It was Michael he was going to miss. Slade’s jaw tightened. If Lara thought she was going to keep him out of his son’s life, she was wrong. Tomorrow morning, first thing, he’d phone his attorney, tell him to begin whatever proceedings were necessary to gain custody.
No. Dammit, he couldn’t do that. Slade scrubbed his hands over his eyes. The boy loved his mother and she loved him. And whatever else she was, Lara was a good mother. Joint custody, then. He’d have his son weekends, holidays, summers…let his lawyer work it out.
That was what he should have done, right from the beginning, instead of forcing Lara into marrying him. What a damn-fool thing that had been to do! You designed a building, you could count on it turning out the way you’d intended, but you couldn’t build a family by design. One man, one woman, one child didn’t add up to anything, without love. It wasn’t enough that he loved his son. A marriage wasn’t a marriage without love.
And he had never loved Lara. He’d known that, going in. He’d wanted her, yes. She was incredible in bed but there wasn’t anything else between them…
The phone rang. Slade grabbed it. “Hello,” he snarled, “and whoever this is, I’ll tell you right now, I’m not in the mood for chit-chat.”
“Well, neither am I,” Travis snarled back.
“Trav?” Slade sat on the edge of the bed. “Hey, man. How’d you know I needed to—”
“What the hell is the matter with the female of the species, kid?”
“The fact that they are female. That’s what’s the matter with them.”
“Yeah.” Travis cleared his throat. “The thing is—there’s this woman.”
“There always is.”
“I asked her to move in with me.”
Slade got to his feet. “You what? Listen, before you do anything serious—”
“It isn’t serious. I mean, okay, it’s serious now. But it won’t be serious forever. We have an understanding. We stay together, no strings, no commitments—”
Slade made a choked sound he hoped might pass for a laugh. “They all want commitments. But they want them when they want them, not when you get around to making them.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Look, about this babe—”
“She’s not a ‘babe.’ Her name is Alexandra.”
“Alexandra.” Slade rubbed the back of his neck and told himself to concentrate on what Travis was saying. “Classy name. Wasn’t the babe—the woman who bought you at that auction named Alexandra?”
“What if she was?”
“Hey, there’s no need to get defensive. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I mean, the lady bought you for hot times—”
“Watch how you talk about her,” Travis said coldly.
“All I’m saying is that it’s sort of unusual that she’s become your mistress.”
“She’s not my mistress.”
“What would you call her, then? If she’s living in your house?”
“That’s the problem. She’s got to be called something when I introduce her to people.”
“She has a name, right? So just use it.”
“We’re living together, dammit. How do I let people know that?”
I have a wife who hates me, Slade thought. How do I let people know that?
“Well?” Travis said. “You got an answer for me, kid?”
Slade didn’t have answers for either of them, but he figured that wasn’t what his brother wanted to hear.
“Well,” he said slowly, “why should they have to know it?”
“Because she doesn’t want to be some kind of secret, as if she doesn’t have
a real place in my life.” Travis sighed. “I just need to call her something.”
“Your date?”
“Hell, no.”
“Your lover?”
“No, she’d never go for that.”
“How about calling her your friend?”
Travis laughed, and Slade closed his eyes. You could always do what I did, he almost said, you could marry her and call her your wife…
“She’s your mistress,” he said brusquely. “Leave it at that.”
“She’s not. Well, okay, she is. The thing is, she’s more than a mistress.”
“Then tell her so,” Slade said, trying to curb his impatience. His brother was tied up in knots because he had a woman living with him but dammit, she wasn’t his wife. She hadn’t walked out the door because he was too dumb or maybe too proud to tell her how he really felt, that he—that he—
“Yeah,” Travis said, “maybe you’re right. ‘Princess,’ I could say, ‘Alex, I just want you to know that you’re more than a mistress to me…’”
The line went dead. Slade looked at the phone, thought about calling Travis back, then thought better of it. His brother, asking him for advice about a woman? Hell, that was a good one. He didn’t know a thing about the species. Just look at what he’d been thinking, a minute ago, that maybe he’d—he’d felt something for Lara.
Okay, so making love with her was fantastic. And he liked being with her. Talking to her about stuff, nothing special, just things he’d never discussed with another woman. He’d told her about the redtail hawks that nested in the old oak near the cabin. About how he’d built that cabin himself, log by log. He’d even told her about that first week tending bar years ago, when he’d put himself through school, and how he’d managed to spill a Scotch and soda in the lap of the head of his department.
And Lara had listened as if every word was wonderful and exciting, and he’d listened to her the same way, smiling when she told him how much in common they had, how she’d worked her way through school as a waitress and dumped tomato soup all over her first customer.
Slade groaned and ran his hands through his hair.
Who was he trying to kid? Yes, he missed Michael but losing his wife was like losing his soul. He’d see his son again, smile with him, hug him, kiss him, share his life, but Lara was lost to him forever. Her smile. Her sweet laughter. The way she looked, first thing in the morning, her face shining with joy as he gathered her into his arms and kissed her…
The telephone rang again. Slade grabbed it, his heart racing. Maybe it was Lara…
But it wasn’t. It was Travis, calling back.
“Listen, kid,” he said abruptly, “Gage just phoned. He’s having a bad time.”
“Yeah,” Slade said. “There’s a lot of that going around lately.”
“Just call him, okay? I’ll give you his number.”
“I know his number.”
“He isn’t home. I got this from my caller ID box. Take it down.”
Slade scribbled the numerals on a pad, then rubbed his forehead. “Listen, man, actually—actually, this isn’t the best—”
“Tell him not to be an idiot,” Travis said, gruffly. “No man should ever let a woman he loves get away from him.”
“Love,” Slade said, and laughed again. “Who even knows what the word means?”
“You’ll know, kid. Believe me, when it happens, you’ll know.”
Travis hung up. Slade sighed and dialed the number his brother had given him. It wasn’t a good night for the Baron brothers.
Gage answered immediately. “Slade? How’d you—”
“Travis called me.”
“How? I didn’t give him this number.”
“Welcome to the age of the chip,” Slade said dryly. “His caller ID box gave it to him. Where are you, anyway?”
“Palm Beach, and don’t ask, okay? It’s a long story.”
“Listen, man, I just called to tell you Travis is right. Whatever you do, don’t let Natalie get away from you.”
Gage sighed. “You know, for a couple of freewheeling bachelors, you guys sure are full of advice for the lovelorn.”
“You love a woman,” Slade said roughly, “you’re a fool if you ever let her walk out of your life. Understand?”
“Aren’t you the guy who’s watched legions of broads march into the sunset?”
“Legions don’t count for a damn,” Slade said. “It’s just one woman, the woman, who matters. A man finds her, he should have his head examined, if he lets her get away. You got that?”
“I’ve got it. But you’re the last one I’d expect—”
“Tell me about it,” Slade said, and hung up the phone. Slowly he walked to the window and looked out at the dark street. Lara would be at the airport by now, waiting for the plane that would take her back to Baltimore.
The plane that would take her out of his life, forever.
“Hell,” he whispered.
Gage was right. Who was he, to give anybody advice about love? He didn’t know a damned thing about it…except, he did. Maybe the Lara he’d loved was nothing but illusion but he had loved her. He’d go on loving her for the rest of his life. The memories of her—of how she’d slept wrapped in his arms each night, of the smile that lit her face each evening as he came through the door—those would fill his lonely nights but they weren’t enough. He wanted her. Lara. Warm, and real, and in his arms…
“Mr. Baron?”
Slade looked up. Helga was standing in the doorway. Her tone was polite but the look on her face said he was the last person on earth she wanted to deal with. Welcome to the club, he thought, and gave her a tight smile.
“What is it, Helga?”
“I wondered if you’d want dinner, sir. It’s getting late, and—”
“No.” He turned his back to her and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “No dinner, thank you.”
“I’m sorry about…” She cleared her throat. “Mrs. Baron said she wouldn’t be back.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, then…would you want me to call Mr. Elliott for her, sir?”
Slade shut his eyes. He could hear Lara’s voice, the sexy laugh, the way she’d purred, “He doesn’t suspect a thing…”
“Sir?”
“No,” he said, very calmly, “that’s all right, Helga. Why don’t you just give me his address and I’ll—I’ll deal with Elliott.”
Helga nodded. She dug a business card from her apron pocket, and gave it to Slade. He read it and frowned.
“Elliott and Stefan?” He looked at his housekeeper. “Catering à La Carte?”
“Yes, sir.” Helga licked her lips. “Stefan is my nephew. That was why I recommended them to Mrs. Baron.”
“I don’t—I’m not following this, Helga. You introduced my wife to—to—”
“I suppose it can’t do any harm to let you know about it now, sir. The party she was planning, I mean.” Helga knotted her hands together. “Well, I don’t think you’d call dinner for two a party, but Stefan said he and Elliott would be happy to handle it. Elliott—such a nice man, sir—Elliott knows the manager of the hotel, you see, and he said he could—”
“The hotel,” Slade said, trying not to grab Helga and shake the story out of her more quickly.
“The one where your wi—where Mrs. Baron booked the suite. For tomorrow night. For your birthday? Oh, she took such care, sir. She asked me the name of your favorite champagne and was there any special dish you…Mr. Baron? Are you all right?”
“No,” Slade said in an unsteady voice, “no, I’m not all right. I’ve got a block of wood where I’m supposed to have a brain, and…”
Why was he wasting time, talking? Slade hurried across the room, paused just long enough to give a shocked Helga a hug and a kiss and raced down the stairs.
He called every airline he could think of on his car phone, on the way to the airport. None would tell him if a Lara Stevens or a Lara Baron had purchased a ticket for a fli
ght to Baltimore.
“Security restrictions,” one clerk finally said, when Slade roared out his frustration.
But he learned that only one line had a flight to Baltimore leaving within the next hour. He had no choice but to hope Lara was booked on it.
He didn’t even bother trying to find a parking space. Instead he pulled to the curb in front of the departure terminal for East Coast Air.
“Hey,” a voice shouted, “you can’t leave your car there…”
Slade didn’t look back. He ran. He felt as if he were running not just to catch the plane before it left but for his life. Time was slipping through his fingers. What a fool he’d been, not to have told his wife what he should have told her days ago, what he’d tell her now…
If she’d listen.
God, she had to listen.
He raced through the terminal, checking gate numbers as he went, slowing only when he reached the security checkpoint because he knew damned well he’d never get past it if he shouldered the woman ahead of him out of the way. A lunatic was on the loose, the guards would figure, and they’d be right. Only a crazy man would have shut Lara out of his life…and only a crazy man wouldn’t have realized she loved him as much as he loved her, and that he could trust her, forever, with his heart.
The way she’d slept in his arms, ever since that night at the lake. The way she’d given herself to him each time they made love. Why had he been so blind? He knew women and yes, he knew sex. And what they’d done together hadn’t been sex, it had been something more: it had been a way of saying “I love you” without words.
Where was she? This was the right gate, the right waiting area. So many people. He couldn’t see her. Couldn’t find her. Couldn’t…
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