Memories of Love (15 page)

“May I be excused?” Sarah asked,
trying to stifle a yawn.

“Just one moment, young lady.”
Grant’s tone was stern.

Sarah had turned to exit the dining
room, but stopped at her father’s tone of voice. Everyone trained their gaze on
him.

“We need to talk about what you did
today…lying to Aunt Jane and Molly’s mother. Disappearing. Reckless, dangerous
behavior…”

“What?” Her voice got squeaky.

“Jane told me. You said you were
going to Molly’s house, and she said she was coming here. Both of you lied to
us and Molly’s family. You did this to sneak away and meet your mother?”

The young girl nodded.

“Why?”

“I knew she was here, and I wanted
to meet her.”

“And you knew lying about it was wrong.
Running off like that in New York City…”

“We were with Josie. She knows her
way around.”

“But she couldn’t protect you, could
she?” Grant lifted an eyebrow.

Sarah fidgeted. “No, she couldn’t.”

“I want you to promise me you won’t
lie like that again. I had plans to introduce you to your mother. You didn’t
need to run away.”

Sarah burst into tears. “I’m sorry,
Daddy. It’s my fault that mommy got shot!”

Cara pulled Sarah into her embrace
carefully. “No, sweetie, it isn’t your fault at all. It’s that bad man’s
fault.”

Grant leaned over to stroke Sarah’s
hair. “That’s right. It wasn’t your fault, pumpkin.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She kissed Cara
on the cheek then climbed into her father’s lap.

He hugged her to him and kissed her
head. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Sarah fell into bed right after
dinner. Grant and Jane permitted her to stay home from school the next day.
Skip left, and Jane cleaned up the kitchen. Grant carried the worn out Cara
into his room. Jane brought all the extra pillows she could find and the three
of them tried to make Cara as comfortable as possible. She took a pain pill and
snuggled down into the covers. Grant slipped in next to her and held her hand
as she drifted off to sleep.

* * * *

By morning, the story was in all the
newspapers, with many inaccuracies and exaggerations, and questions about
Sarah’s parentage. Grant and Cara awoke before Sarah. Cara was uneasy to read the
accounts, but pushed the probing queries out of her mind.

“It’s opening night, and I’ve got to
be ready.” She sat propped up on the sofa drinking coffee.

“You’re going on?”

“Of course. Makeup will take care of
the bruises. I’ll rest all day today and be ready tonight.”

“I’ve got today off, too. Let me
help you.”

“You’ll have to. I don’t think I can
dress myself.”

A lusty grin spread across his face.
“You picked the perfect task for me.”

“Really? Are you as good at dressing
me as undressing me?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.

He laughed. “We’ll find out.”

“I need a bath, too.”

“At your service.” His smile
widened.

By curtain time, Cara’s bruises were
covered by heavy makeup with help from Quinn’s wife, Susanna, who also helped
her dress. After securing her arm in a sling, she paced, reciting her lines,
deeply focused on her part.

Grant had a seat in the third row,
courtesy of the producers. Sarah had thrown a fit but had to stay home, as it
was a school night. The curtain went up on time. Cara’s character came on right
after Quinn’s. She entered the stage, tapping a white cane, her arm resting in the
sling, and the audience went wild. She received a standing ovation before she
even uttered her first line.

Chapter Fourteen

Even though she was exhausted, Cara joined
her daughter for breakfast the next morning. Sarah couldn’t stop talking and
managed to extract a promise from Grant to take her to a matinee so she could
see her mother on stage. She sat next to Cara at the table and let her mother
brush her hair. She asked for Cara’s help picking her outfit for school and
left tearful, unhappy to be separated from her new mom.

Sarah enchanted her mother who couldn’t
stop looking at the beautiful little girl.

Cara was impressed by Grant’s
efforts to take care of her. He seemed content doing the most mundane tasks. Snuggling
up together in bed for the entire night was a dream come true. She was safe
because he was with her when a nightmare hit.
He almost likes my dependency a bit too much.
She couldn’t remember
when someone outside of her sister had actually taken care of her. Certainly
none of the men who passed through her life had stayed long enough for that
job.
I could get used to this.

Grant hit the newsstands early and
spread out the morning papers with reviews of
Blind Love
for Cara to read with her morning coffee. A call from
Skip made the success of the play complete. “Great job in
Blind Love
, baby!”

“You saw the reviews?”

“Yup. Smash hit all the way, honey.”

Cara’s face lit up. “Oh my God. I’m
so happy!” She closed her eyes.

“Rest up so you can go on tonight.
I’ve got a bet with Gus when the audience will stop giving you a standing
ovation when you walk out.”

“Hope Gus wins,” she snickered.

“Thanks a lot! See you tonight,” he
said before hanging up.

Cara leaned against Grant. “It’s a
hit. God, I’m so…relieved!”

“I knew it would be. That’s great
news, honey.” He kissed her hair.

After a reporter followed her home
from the theater, word got out among the press where she was living. Once they
all found out, Grant’s place ceased to be a safe haven. The phone rang off the
hook. Grant put them off, but Cara knew they’d be back to ask their nosy
questions about her relationship to Sarah. Tiffany Cowles herself,
editor-in-chief of
Celebs ‘R Us,
called to set up an interview.

Skip came by for dinner and to plan
a media strategy with Cara. “We need to make up something credible,” he said,
sitting at the dining room table eating Jane’s homemade Angel Food cake
drizzled with chocolate icing.

“No.” Cara took a bite then directed
her conversation to Jane. “This is the best.”

The baker beamed at the praise.

“What do you mean ‘no’?’” Skip
asked.

“I’m not going to lie. We’ve been
over this, Skip. Sarah’s my daughter, and I refuse to deny her parentage.”

“You’re going to destroy your image.
You’d better sign with Gunther Quill before this hits the papers. “’Cause once
it’s out there, he may back out.”

“Then so be it. No lies. Grant will
be with me. He’s Sarah’s dad. We’re going to get married…”

“You might just refuse to answer
some questions. But that might make reporters mad.”

“I’m a good actress. If people choose
not to hire me because of this…incident. Well, there’s nothing I can do about
that.”

“This impacts me, too, you know.”
Skip pointed at her with his fork.

“Hey! This is Cara’s decision…it’s
her life,” Grant piped up.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist.
I’m with her. I’m not so much worried about most of the reporters, but that
Tiffany Cowles…she can be vicious.”

“I know. I’ll do what I can.”

Grant draped his arm around her. “I
think it’s time you went to bed.”

Skip cocked an eyebrow at him.

“No, no. Not that. She needs rest.”

“I don’t see how she’s going to get
it, going off to bed with you.”

Cara chuckled. “Always in the
gutter, Skip. We’re sleeping. That’s all. Is that okay with you?”

“Of course, of course. Sorry, Cara.
No offense, Grant.”

“None taken. Goodnight.” He offered
her his arm after he pulled out her chair a bit. She placed her weight on him
and stood up.

“Come on, Cara Mia.” Grant held her
close while he walked her to their room.

* * * *

Slowly, Grant helped Cara remove her
clothes. A gasp of pain let him know he needed to be extra gentle. He hadn’t
considered himself a nurturing type of man, not one to cook or be interested in
nesting much, so he was surprised at how much he enjoyed taking care of Cara.

“Which gown tonight?”

“The aqua one…the one that ties on
the shoulder?”

“Great. We don’t have to take it
over your head.”

Grant removed her bra and placed it
on the chair along with her T-shirt.

“I’ll never get tired of this part,”
he chuckled.

“Don’t get used to it. I’ll be
better before long and doing this myself again.”

“I hope not.”

She gave him an injured look.

“I mean, not that you don’t get
better…but that I can continue to undress you.”

She smiled at him.

Grant unbuttoned her jeans. Cara
insisted on unzipping and pushing them down. She stepped out of them then stood
still so Grant could untie then re-tie the gown over her shoulders.

He noticed her face had paled.
Assuming it was due to increased pain, he fetched a glass of water from their
private bathroom and presented her with a pain pill. She took it then sat down
gingerly on the edge of the bed. Together, they maneuvered her onto the pillows
and adjusted the covers until she was comfortable. Grant turned out the
overhead light, removed his clothes, and slid in next to her.

Cara leaned on her good shoulder and
rested her palm on his bare chest.

“Do you want to talk about this
interview with Tiffany Cowles?” he asked.

“Talk about it? I don’t even want to
think about it.”

“Why?” He stroked her back.

“Because she has a reputation for being
a nasty. Quinn told me what she did to his friend
Chaz
and what she tried to do to him. She’s going to eat me alive.”

“Hell, I don’t get it. Women get
pregnant out of wedlock from time to time. Mistakes happen. It’s not the end of
the world, right?” He rested his hand on her shoulder blade.

“It’s not so much that, it’s the
fact that the world will see me as walking away from my two-year-old child.
Dumping her on you.”

“But I’m her father. If I wanted to
take custody of her and you agreed, why is it anyone else’s business?”

“It isn’t. But the press will have a
field day, painting me as a bad mom. Now this thing with that pedophile creep.
If they find out he got to her because of the pictures I was having taken…what
a mess!” She rolled away and pushed herself into an upright position.

Tears clouded her eyes. Grant palmed
her cheek and kissed her softly on the lips. “Sweetheart, that wasn’t your
fault. You had no idea about him. The police knew. They should have told us.”

“They said they had an inkling, an
idea…whatever the hell that means.” She gave a short, mirthless laugh.

“I would’ve been vigilant, if I’d known…”

“I don’t think we could have stopped
that monster.” A little shudder ran through Cara’s body.

“You stopped him. Singlehanded.”

She smiled shyly. “You would’ve done
the same if you’d been there.”

“If I had opened my shirt, it
wouldn’t have accomplished a thing!” He chuckled. “I’m in awe of you, Carol
Anne. Cara. You’re simply…amazing.”

She leaned back against the pillows
and narrowed her eyes. He moved closer to her and took her hand.

“I like it here. The apartment is
great. Roomy for New York. And Central Park West is a beautiful spot…opposite
the park. Reminds me a little of my view of the hills at home.”

“I’m glad you like it here. I want
it to be
your
home, too.”

“You’ll come to California and stay
in my house?”

“Of course we will. Never been to
Los Angeles.”

“It’s a beautiful house…huge.”

“You must be a wealthy lady.”

She blushed and cast her eyes down
to her hands. “I do all right.”

“People might think I’m marrying you
for your money.”

Her head shot up. “That’s
ridiculous.”

“Yes, it’s ridiculous. I’m well
fixed. Your money stays your money in your name only when we get married. I
don’t want to touch a dime.”

“Do we have to talk about such ugly
subjects like Tiffany Cowles and money while we’re in bed together?” She
snuggled into him as best she could with her bandages.

“We can’t make love…what would you
like to talk about?”

She scrunched down to rest her head
on his shoulder. “Our wedding?”

He laughed. “Typical woman. Okay.
Where do you want to get married, and what am I going to wear?”

“Now let’s see. Can we wait for a
spring wedding? We have to wait five more months anyway. Let’s get married in
June.”

“Looks like you’re going to have a
long run with the play. We can get married whenever and wherever you want.”

“Then I choose June. Now a place.
Hmm.” Her brows knit.

“I hope it runs ten years…twenty!
Until forever, Cara Mia,” he said, kissing her forehead before turning out the lamp
on the nightstand.

“I’m going to dream about our
wedding instead of that awful man.”

“Good girl.”

“Goodnight, G. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Cara Mia, body and
soul.”

* * * *

The producers sent a car every day
to ferry Cara to the theater and home again. They didn’t want to take any
chances on her missing one more night. She loved the luxury. Rex the doorman
would open the door, then Grant ushered Cara into the limo before the reporters
could converge on her.

At the theater, she was on her own.
Gus helped by elbowing his way through the throng of reporters to escort her to
her dressing room. Before going in, she stopped and gave them a day and time to
meet outside The Stanford Arms. She wanted Grant there with her for moral support.

First, she made an appointment with
Tiffany Cowles who was coming to Grant’s apartment on Monday, Cara’s day off.
She agreed to meet with Tiffany before she spoke with other reporters. Cara hoped
against hope that since the editor had the story as an exclusive for a few
days, she’d go easier on the star.

Sarah had some troubles in school.
She was afraid to leave unless Jane was there to pick her up. Sometimes she
cried in class for no reason. Mrs.
Wilner
sent her to
the school psychiatrist, who said the little girl suffered from post-traumatic
stress, but that it would pass with time and some therapy. Grant researched an
excellent doctor in their neighborhood and took her. The girl went reluctantly,
at first. As she grew more comfortable with the doctor, she was happy to go.

Cara was relieved. She had worried
about her daughter. Since she knew how that awful man haunted her dreams, she had
wondered how the experience affected Sarah. When at home, Sarah relaxed being
with her family where she was safe. All play dates were made with Molly at
Sarah’s house.

She confessed to her parents about
seeing the porky man on the corner when she went to Molly’s house. Grant was
disturbed she hadn’t come to him before, but he didn’t chastise her for it.
Most important, he thought, was to get past the bad experience and move forward
with life. Cara agreed.

Finally, the day came for her
private interview with Tiffany. Jane had baked one of her chocolate cakes and
brewed both coffee and tea for the formidable woman. Tiffany was scheduled to
arrive at one o’clock, after lunch but before Sarah returned from school. Cara
had Grant help her on with a velour running suit in sky blue, the color of her
eyes. She paced in the living room. Grant stayed at home in case she needed
him.

When Rex buzzed the apartment, Cara
jumped. “She’s here!” She smoothed her pants down while Jane went to give the
okay. Cara took a deep breath, turned her head from side to side to loosen up,
and went to the front door.

She was surprised to see Tiffany
Cowles was a small woman, maybe five feet three inches tall at most. She had
expected a behemoth—an Amazon woman, seven feet tall, breathing fire. Tiffany’s
long auburn hair was pulled back into an unassuming ponytail. She wore a forest
green
Yves St. Laurent
suit with
Manolo
Blahnik
pumps
and carried a
Gucci
bag.

Tiffany looked younger than Cara had
imagined, maybe about thirty-three, the same age as Cara, but her face was a
mask. Her gaze burned a hole in Cara, as if she knew a secret was buried
inside.

“Come in, Ms. Cowles, please come
in.” Cara swung the door wide open with her good arm and backed herself against
the wall to let the woman pass. Her mouth was as dry as the Sahara Desert, and
her heartbeat kicked up.
Will she be easy
on me?

Cara offered Tiffany a seat on the
sofa and took her order for tea.
Thought
she’d be a coffee drinker. Or scotch or vodka straight.
She smiled at her
own thoughts. Jane brought out a tray with mugs of tea and generous pieces of
her chocolate cake.

“Chocolate cake is my favorite. Did
you look that up?” Tiffany turned a suspicious eye to Cara, who blushed.

“Actually, it’s mine, too, Ms.
Cowles. And I’m the baker in the family,” Jane replied after placing napkins on
the coffee table.

“Who are you?”

“Jane Hollings. Grant’s sister,” she
said, extending her hand.

Tiffany took it. “Nice to meet you.
Thanks for the cake.” The wary expression never left her face.