Memories of Love (8 page)

“I was stupid. I’m sorry. I tried
not to love you anymore, Cara Mia, I tried and failed,” he whispered to the
silent night before the brandy did its job and put him to sleep.

* * * *

Cara awoke to an unusual swing of
emotions, from elation to apprehension. Seeing Grant made her heart flutter
again, but he was still married. The last thing she wanted was to be named
correspondent in a divorce.
What would Sarah
think? The press would have a field day. What about the play?
She ordered
breakfast from room service then dressed. Nibbling on her lower lip, she paced
in the living room, awaiting the arrival of the food.

“Okay, I know that look. What
happened last night?” Skip walked into the living room, tying the sash of his
robe.

Cara sank down on the sofa. “I
haven’t seen Grant in…five years.”

“He’s the one?”

She nodded.

“The love of your life? He’s
returned? How wonderful! You should be celebrating. Did you order food?”

“Of course. The usual for you. As
for celebrating…I’m not sure.”

“Aren’t you madly in love again?” Skip
strolled over to peer outside.

“The same feelings are still there.
But he’s married.”

“Married? And he came to see you?
Some nerve. Did you sleep with him?” He turned to face her.

“Of course not.” She waved her hand
at him.

“Then how do you know you feel the
same?”

“The kiss.” She fidgeted with the
hem of her shirt.

“He kissed you?” He lifted his
eyebrows.

“If you can call it only a kiss.”
She stared out the window with unseeing eyes. Remembering the barely contained
passion that ignited between them, she moved her finger to her lower lip.

“Not a very married man.”

“I think his marriage is over.” She
pushed to her feet.

“Sidestep him, honey. This is one
train wreck you don’t need.” He kissed her cheek.

“I can’t, Skip. I’ve been waiting
five years for this, and I’m not going to turn away from him now. Couldn’t,
even if I wanted to.”

“Your funeral. But as your agent
who’s helped you build a hugely successful career for five years, I say you’re
putting everything in jeopardy. And for what? A roll in the hay?”

“It’s more than that. Much more.”
She shook her head.

“Great! My biggest client is about
to go bust. They’ll kick you out of the play. Replace you. The morals clause.
Every contract has one.” His voice rose.

“I won’t do anything to embarrass
you or the producers. But I’m not going to give up Grant. That’s one mistake
I’m not making a second time.”

Their conversation was interrupted
by a knock on the door. A waiter wheeled in a table with two egg white omelets,
tiny roasted new potatoes, turkey bacon, fruit, a basket of toast, and a large
carafe of coffee. He set it up by the big picture window, overlooking the city.
Skip tipped him and signed the check then pulled out Cara’s chair for her. She
poured coffee into two cups.

They sipped in silence, avoiding
each other’s gaze. Then, Skip reached over and squeezed her hand. “Okay, I’ll
stop being an agent for a minute. What can I do to help you land this guy?”

She grinned. “Nothing. I’m pretty
sure he’s coming back after he and his wife split.”

“Are you going to marry him?” Skip
cut into his omelet with his fork. Melted cheddar cheese oozed out along with mushrooms.

“He hasn’t asked.” She speared a
chunk of cantaloupe.

“And if he did?”

“Can we crawl before we walk? Don’t
borrow trouble. I’m not quitting acting, so you can relax.”

“What if he demands it?”

“I’ll cross that bridge. He let me
go five years ago. But it’s different now.”

“But if he—”

“Why can’t you just be happy for
me?” She picked up a piece of bacon.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” His gaze
met hers.

“Soon that sad look you’re always hounding
me about will be gone. I’ll be happy all the time.”

“Hah! No one is happy all the time.”
He picked up his coffee cup again.

“Try me.” She grinned at him and
took a big bite of her omelet.

After breakfast, Cara headed to the
theater to listen to the director’s critique of their preview performances. But
she was floating on air and hardly heard his comments. Peace spread inside Cara.
Now that Grant was back in her life, how was she going to play sad scenes when
she couldn’t stop smiling?
I’m an
actress. I’ll find a way.
But that notion simply put a bigger grin on her
face.

When changes were agreed to, the
director dismissed them. The actors scattered, trying to carve out some down
time before taking the stage again. Cara returned to the hotel to rest before
the next show that evening. She always scheduled quiet time to read and relax a
few hours before performing to refresh her mind and nerves. A good book and
being alone calmed her.

Today there was too much on her mind
to focus on a novel. Grant and Sarah. Longing to be a family had been a spark
that grew into a flame over the years. She plucked a photo album off the
nightstand. She always traveled with it. The book held the pictures she had
been paying Happy to take. She lay back in the pillows and flipped through the
well-worn pages, reliving Sarah’s early years.

She touched the half-heart necklace
she wore to feel connected to Sarah.
Soon
I’ll be meeting her.
Still, she didn’t want to rush things, confuse her
daughter.
My daughter. My baby girl. God,
that sounds good! Hope I can be a good mother. Grant will know when the time is
right.

Skip knocked then entered the room.
“That album again?” he huffed.

“Soon I’ll be reunited with my
daughter.”

Skip stopped in his tracks. “What?”

“You heard me. Soon Sarah and I’ll
be mother and daughter again.”

“You can’t be serious?” His eyes
widened.

“I’ve never been more serious about
anything. I’ve missed five years of her life and that’s about to end. I’m sure
Grant’ll
want us reunited.”

“You can’t do that! Admit you gave
up this child? The press will go to town. You’ll be raked over the coals,
branded as selfish, uncaring…the worst mother in the world!”

“What do you mean?” Cara put the
album down.

“You can’t tell the truth about
Sarah. Your
reputation’ll
be gone.” Skip paced.

She sat up straight. “If I don’t, my
daughter will be gone!”

“That’s a choice you made five years
ago.”

“Five years ago I had hepatitis. It
wasn’t a choice. It was a necessity. I didn’t give her up—I put her in the care
of her father.”

“Try explaining that in a three-word
headline. I’m serious, Cara. You can’t talk about Sarah.”

“You want me to hide her? I can’t do
that. I won’t!” Tears clouded her vision.

“God damn it! Fuck! We’ve worked our
asses off to build up a fabulous career for you, and now you’re going to throw
it away…over…motherhood?”

“You don’t know how people are going
to respond. Besides, I don’t have to shout it from the rooftops. I can quietly
take my place as her mother.”

“That’s fine. No one has to know the
truth. You can deny being her biological mother, be her step-mother instead.”
Skip smiled.

Cara broke down. He rushed to her
side and took her in his arms. “I can’t. You want me to deny she’s my child? I
can’t, Skip. I can’t. We’ve been apart too long already.” She buried her face
in her hands.

He pulled a handkerchief out of his
pocket. Cara snatched it and wiped her eyes.

“No more lies. No more pretending. I
need her and she needs me.”

“Darling, be careful. Hasty
confessions drive the front page of
Celebs
‘R Us.
You don’t want to be there…and watch your career go down the
toilet.” His tone softened.

She looked up at him through wet
lashes. “I can’t go without her anymore, Skip. I’ve made a lot of money in
films. If I need to take a break…maybe it’s time. I want to be a soccer mom. I
want to bake brownies for school bake sales. I want to go shopping with my
daughter, do our nails together. I want to be a mom.”

He let her go. “I understand—I
think. Can’t you do it all?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I
haven’t tried. But I don’t have to give up my career completely. I could make
one picture a year and be content.”

“All I’m saying is, before you
confess all to the world, think about your options. Talk to Grant. After all, you
have to marry him to become her mom, don’t you?”

Cara straightened up, smoothing out
her robe. “No, I don’t. I’m Sarah’s biological mother. Nothing can change that.
If I had to, I could sue for custody. If Evelyn tries to interfere, that’s
exactly what I’ll do,” she sniffed.

“Oh my God. Think of the scandal. Don’t
do that!” Skip sank down on the bed.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for
my daughter—including taking some time off from acting to get her back in my
life. If that’s what I have to do…”

“Cara, take it easy.”

“Perhaps I should call a lawyer now?
Have any recommendations?” She hid a smile.

Skip grabbed her arms. “Wait! Slow
down. Talk to Grant. At least let him dump his wife first.”

She laughed. “Had you, didn’t I?”

“Almost gave me a heart attack!
Don’t do that again.” He put his hand over his heart.

“Skip, you’re only forty-two, too
young for a heart attack.”

“You just took ten years off my
life.”

She laughed. “That’s what you get
for trying to drive a wedge between me and Sarah.”

He raised his palms up. “Never
again. I promise!”

Cara looked at her watch. “Still
time for a nap before the theater.”

“Tell me you’re not giving up your
career.”

“I don’t think Grant would want
that. He knows how hard I’ve worked and what I’ve sacrificed already to get
where I am. I’m sure he can deal with me making a picture a year and spending
some time in my house on the West coast.”

“You think so?”

“Grant regrets our parting as much
as I do. If he had been more flexible about me making my first movie, we might
still be together. I’m sure he realizes that now. He’s a smart man. He’ll get that
you don’t totally walk away from a career like mine in a heartbeat. And if I
assure him one picture a year is all I’ll do, we should be fine.” She smiled,
satisfied she had it all figured out.

“I hope you’re right, for everyone’s
sake.”

That evening when Cara went on stage,
she spotted Grant, seated again in the third row. Warmth encased her heart as
new energy flowed through her veins.

Chapter Eight

After the show, Grant waited outside
the stage door. Gus called him over and let him in. He knocked on Cara’s door
and presented her with her favorite flowers, apricot roses, when she opened.

“You remembered!” She smiled broadly
as she let him into her dressing room. She put the roses in a tall vase and
added water. After inhaling their sweet smell, she kissed him on the cheek.

Cara was dressed in a low-cut, dark
purple, silk blouse, a silver twisted necklace, and jeans. Grant still wore his
suit from work.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I
thought we agreed to wait until you hashed things out with Evelyn.”

“We did.”

“You did? And she was all right
about it?”

“I think she’s as relieved as I am.
We’ll stop torturing each other. It’s for the best.”

“I can’t believe you’re free…and
looking so handsome tonight.” She shot him a flirtatious glance.

“You look beautiful. Dinner?” His
gaze rested on her chest a few seconds longer than it should.
Will she feel the same? Taste the same?

“I see some things haven’t changed.
I’m up here,” She snickered, lifting his chin with her fingers.

“Caught staring. Guilty as charged,
judge,” he joked, feeling heat seep into his cheeks.

“Screw your eyes back into your head
and let’s go. I’m starved.” She threaded her arm through his.

He stopped before they left, turning
her to face him. He held up his left hand and pointed to the mark where his
wedding ring used to be.

“Evelyn left last night. She’s
returned to her boyfriend in D.C. Jeff started divorce proceedings. There’s a
waiting period. I’ll be a free man in six months. Will you marry me then?”

Cara laughed. “You don’t even know
me anymore, Grant. I’ m not still the innocent little girl you knew in D.C.”

“You’re still Carol Anne…somewhere
deep inside, she lives. Besides, I might love Cara Brewster as much as I love
Carol Anne.”

“I doubt that!” Her eyes danced.
“Can’t we talk about marriage another time…like when you’re officially single?”

He chuckled. “Okay. You have a
point. Guess I want to pin you down so you don’t disappear again.” He pulled
her to him for a kiss.

Cara stepped away first. “If we
don’t stop…Gus is going to interrupt something much more embarrassing than a
kiss in a few minutes,” she breathed.

As if he were listening, there was a
knock. “Closing up, Ms. Brewster.”

“Thanks, Gus. Out in five.”

They stepped out into the cool,
October, evening air. Cara shivered so Grant gave her his jacket. She led him
to an intimate French Restaurant around the corner called
Le
Chien
D’Or.

“Quinn recommended it. His friend,
Chaz
Duncan, goes there when he’s in New York.”

“The actor’s network, eh? I’m new
here. I’ll follow your lead.”

Grant held the door for Cara. The
moment she walked in, the maître d’ recognized her. He bowed. “Ah. Ms.
Brewster, Cara Brewster,
non
? Jean
Pierre,
a
vôtre
service
.”

“
Oui
,” she replied with a nod. “
Chaz
Duncan recommended you.”

“Monsieur Duncan, a great friend. I
have a special table for you. Please, this way.”

He led them to a small, elegant,
empty room with a few tables. They sat next to each other in a booth. Grant
ordered a bottle of fine champagne.

“It’s a special occasion,” he beamed
at Jean Pierre.

The maître d’ bowed and left them
alone.

She faced him. “Special occasion?”

“Being with you is a special
occasion. I feel like I’m dreaming, but I’m afraid to wake up.” He coiled his fingers
over hers on the table.

“Since when did you become such a
flatterer?” She shot him a coquettish glance.

Grant took both her hands in his.
“This isn’t flattery. This is a dream come true. How often do we get a second
chance to right the biggest mistake we’ve ever made in life?” He raised her
hand to his lips. “I have something else to tell you.”

“Oh?” She cocked an eyebrow.

The waiter arrived with the bottle
of champagne. He popped the cork and poured two flutes.

“I did what you said.” Grant picked his
up.

“What I said?”

“First a toast. To the most
beautiful woman in the world.” He clinked his glass with hers before taking a
sip. Then, he nodded to the server, who left quietly.

“You were saying?”

“I asked Evelyn why you haven’t
visited or contacted Sarah, and I…I’m ashamed…” Emotion choked him, trapping
his words in his throat. His eyes watered as he took a big breath.

Cara placed her hand on his arm. “It’s
okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. I’ve been mad at
you for five years…for no reason. She just told me about that horrible
agreement.” Grant lowered his head and shook it. “I didn’t know,” he whispered.
“I’m so, so very sorry.” He couldn’t stop his tears.

Cara placed her hand over his while
he searched his pocket with his other. Drawing out a handkerchief, he wiped his
eyes. “I did you a terrible injustice. I should have known you would’ve come,
called, or written except for something…something evil, is the only thing I can
call it.” He hung his head, mopping up the wetness on his face.

Jean Pierre entered the room to take
their order. Grant took a shuddering breath, keeping his eyes covered. “Is
monsieur
all right?” Jean Pierre asked.
Cara nodded. He bowed and exited.

“If I had known, I never would’ve
allowed that to stand.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I was
waiting for an update, news, anything.”

“I did, but you were always out of
the state or the country. Traveling, shooting a movie. After those calls, I was
between a rock and a hard place. Evelyn was jealous. If I called again…well,
guess I didn’t want to rock the boat. It was cowardly of me. So I waited for
you to call. When you didn’t, I was shocked…yet couldn’t believe you didn’t
care. I didn’t know what to do or what to think.”

“It’s all right, Grant. It’s over
now. We’re together.” She put her arm around his shoulders.

“As soon as we get things settled
with Evelyn, I want you to meet Sarah. But she needs some time to adjust. She’s
losing one mother and gaining another.”

“I understand. I’ve waited five
years, I can wait a little while longer.”

Grant kissed her. “You’re the best.
Exactly as I remember you.” He passed her a menu. “Let’s order.” Jean Pierre
returned to take two orders of
Filet de
Boeuf Wellington
and
Salade
Mélangée
.
Cara picked up her champagne flute.

“A toast.” Grant followed suit. “Together
again,” he said, holding his aloft.

“To us.” She raised her glass to
touch his. They drank.

“Instead of moving in together, you
suggest we start…dating?” He took another sip.

“Perfect! Dating…yes.” Her eyes
twinkled.

“Will I have to wonder if the lady
will be…uh…willing when I bring her home?” He wiggled his eyebrows. His gaze
fell to her cleavage. His fingers itched to touch her.

Cara giggled. “Guess you’ll have to
wait and see.” Her eyes glowed with mischief.

“Oh, no! Possible rejection!” Grant wore
a mock scowl.

Cara laughed. “Like you’re worried.”

“Maybe I’m looking forward to a
lengthy…uh…seduction?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe I am, too,” she whispered in
his ear. He bent his head and kissed her neck as the waiter arrived with their
food. He refilled their flutes and left quickly.

They turned their attention to the
excellent beef and mixed salad, digging in with the hunger of two starved
lovers.

Between bites, Cara grilled Grant. “Tell
me about Sarah. Bring me up-to-date.”

Grant reached into his breast pocket
and pulled out three pictures. “These are for you. Sarah’s last three birthday
parties. Thought you’d like to have them.”

She plucked them from his hand,
poring over each one, tears forming in her eyes. “Oh how wonderful. Tell me
about the parties. Everything! The food, the games, the party favors, Sarah’s
friends.” She picked up her fork, training her gaze on his face as she listened
and ate.

Grant laughed. “From a man’s
perspective, now. I’m sure I’m missing some important feminine details. But
Sarah can fill you in when she meets you. Let’s see,” he took a photo from her
hand. “This is her last birthday party…”

He recounted all he could remember.
Cara rifled questions at him, and he tried to answer them all. Sarah was his
favorite subject, and Cara’s keen interest warmed his heart. Dessert was a
superb
crème
brulée
,
washed down with the rest of the excellent champagne.

“I have a big house on Benedict
Canyon Drive. There’s plenty of room there for all of us. Will you bring Sarah
there?”

“When the show closes?”

She nodded.

“What if it doesn’t close for five
years?”

“Then I get to stay in New York…”

“And move in with us.” He took her
hand and kissed it. She smiled warmly at him.

“My sister lives with me in L.A. I
want you to meet her. She’s lovely and smart, too. Gracie. I call her
Pookie
, but no one else can,” she chuckled.

“When Jane leaves, Grace can move
into her room. I’d love to meet her. She must be wonderful if she’s related to
you.” He beamed at her.

Grant walked Cara home, depositing
her in her suite. The open door to Skip’s room allowed his snoring to drift
into the living room. She sat with Grant on the sofa.
Will we make out like teenagers?
He stifled a chuckle.

“It’s late. You work in the morning,
right?” she asked.

“Do you want me to go?” He lifted
his eyebrows.

“No, but I don’t want you to miss
work, either.”

“I’ve had some success, too, in the
last few years. I’m a partner now. It’s okay for me to go in late from time to time.”

Grant pulled on her waist and drew
her to him. He lowered his lips to brush lightly against hers, then to probe
deeper. Cara gave in to his hunger, melting against him. He slid his fingers up
her ribcage to cover her breast, eliciting a small moan.
Still a perfect fit.
He touched her very gently, controlling the
wild desire to rip her clothes off and make passionate love to her on the
living room floor.
If she can wait, so
can I.

Cara unbuttoned his shirt. Sliding
her hand inside, she rested her palm on his bare chest. A small groan escaped
his mouth.
Oh, God.
He thought he’d
never again feel her touch again. Pressure began to grow between his legs.

He slipped his hand under her blouse
for a moment. His fingertips outlined the curve of the top of her bra as he cupped
her. The increasingly rapid rate of her chest rising and falling encouraged him.
Her growing excitement traveled through her body to his.

He pulled the undergarment down and
closed his fingers around her bare flesh. She gasped, pulling his mouth to hers.
His tongue stroked hers softly as he caressed her.
Stop now or else.
Grant forced her away from his arms, slipping his
fingers out from under her shirt.

“If I don’t…stop now…” he panted.

She nodded, her blue eyes smoky with
desire. She smoothed her blouse down. A faint blush remained in her cheeks.

“I don’t want to, but you want to
take it slow.” He buttoned up his shirt.

“Just for a while,” she said between
breaths.

“You know I want you, right? I’ll
wait however long it takes for you to be mine.” He gaze connected with hers.
She cupped his cheek.

Grant pushed to his feet and headed
for the door. Cara followed. He embraced her for one final kiss. She leaned
into him. “Please, hold me once before you go.”

He tightened his arms around her, whispering,
“My pleasure.” They stood clinging to each other. “I love you so much,” he
muttered. “I’ll call you when I can take another night off. Can I see you
again?”

“You’d better! God, I’ve missed this—missed
you.” Her soft warmth reassured him. He kissed her hair, then slipped quietly
out the door so as not to wake up Skip.

When he hit the street, Grant put
his hands in his pockets and walked briskly. He had to control himself to keep
from skipping, he was so happy. In the blink of an eye, his hopeless life had
turned around. The sterile existence he’d been living was melting away,
replaced by the heat of true love.

Lust burned in his veins. He could
hardly wait to make love to her.
Have to
settle for daydreams. Carol Anne is back! She wants to be a mom, give up making
movies, and be my wife. We’ll be a family. Maybe have another child? How did
this happen?
As he strode home, his imagination ran wild.

He was whistling when he opened the
apartment door. Jane sat on the sofa reading. He plopped down next to her,
sporting a big grin.

“Well, well, aren’t you the Cheshire
Cat?” she remarked.

“Yeah, I’m happy…overjoyed.” His
grin widened.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that
since…hmm, I don’t remember.”

“It’s still there.”

“What’s still there?” She shot him a
questioning glance.

“The chemistry…the heat.” He sensed
a flush in his cheeks at his honesty.

“With Cara?”

He nodded. “I think I love her more
than ever.”

“But it’s complicated. What’re you
going to do now?” She folded her hands over the book in her lap.

“Date.” He grinned.

“What?”

“Cara and I are going to date. Go
out. Get to know each other again.” He stood.

“I can see at least one of you has
grown up some in five years. Her idea?”