Remember Me (22 page)

Brandon pressed the intercom. “Tell Frank and my father I will call them later. Don’t let anyone else in here, even if you have to body block the door.” He released the button and braced his hands on the desk to stand. When he limped around the corner, he saw her eyes darken before she looked away.

“What? Not perfect enough for you anymore?” he snarled.

She stared at him wide-eyed. “That was never the issue,” she whispered. “And I’m not here to talk about the past.” She took two steps toward him until she was almost within arm’s reach. “How could you give the paper my name?”

“I never…”

She wiped a hand across her face. “I finished my morning run and couldn’t even get back to my house! Reporters and photographers were everywhere. The minute they saw me, they started coming after me. Lucy Cameron…the stripper. They knew my name. How
could
you?”

“I didn’t…” He watched her start to prowl around his office. She was like a restless lioness and just as sleek. He looked at her attire. “How did you get here?”

“I grabbed a cab. He’s waiting…” She ended on a frustrated huff. “You know, this was a bad idea.” Her hand sliced the air. “Forget I even came by. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

She turned to go. No. Brandon moved between her and the door. “Don’t go.”

Her hands went to her hips. “What? Is it time to pay off on the five hundred dollar tip? Is that the deal?”

Behind the anger he saw the shadows she tried hard to hide. He punched the intercom behind him. “Linda, there’s a cab out front. Have someone pay the fare and send him on his way.”

“No!” Lucy protested. “You can’t do that. I don’t have any way to get… God, I can’t even go home.”

“Where were you going to go from here?” He sure as hell hoped she didn’t say to Mason Hatch. He could take almost anything but that.

“To my shr–friend’s house.”

Brandon had noticed the switch. She had been about to say shrink. “Why are you seeing a shrink?”

“I’m not. Angelina is a friend.” Lucy’s jaw had hardened into stubbornness. When he continued to regard her, he saw her shiver and realized she must be chilled.

“My sister Stacey keeps an office on the floor below. You’re both about the same size. I could have Linda bring some clothing.”

Lucy shook her head. “No.”

Brandon sighed, feeling like they were getting nowhere. The past was rising between them, something they would have to deal with if they were ever going to move forward.

“Why did you leave?” he asked.

Her expression shut down. “I told you. The reporters…”

“I’m not talking about this morning. Why did you leave Colorado without seeing me, without any word at all?”

She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms. So many emotions skittered across her face it was like watching clouds crossing a spring sky on a blustery day. She started to shake her head. He could almost see her backing away and closing herself off.

“Damn it, Lucy! Talk to me! I went back, you know, to the crash site. I made Matt take me there.” Now she was shaking her head. Her hand went up to tuck hair behind her ear. “But I still couldn’t remember it, couldn’t piece any of it together, not until the day I stepped off the elevator at the hospital and saw you. Did you get a kick out of it? Was that the idea?”

“No!” Her arms were wrapped around her middle again, and she rocked back and forth on her feet. Brandon got the feeling she was about to shatter, and he didn’t know what to do. “You didn’t know who I was. You didn’t remember! We got to the hospital and your parents were there.” She stopped, swallowed. “No one looked at me. And there you were, a person I didn’t know either. Maybe I should have known your name, but I didn’t. I couldn’t handle the attention you were getting. I didn’t want people to start digging into who I was.”

“So you ran?” he snarled.

She pointed to the
DC Nightlife
, still sitting on his desk. “Yes! From this. That’s what I ran from. For years, I’ve managed to keep my real life separate from my job at Flamingo Road because no one cared.” She stared at him. “But all you had to do was walk in, and the equation changed. Why couldn’t you just leave it alone?”

She was cutting her emotions off, stepping back from any involvement, and if she succeeded, it was over. He was desperate. He stepped over to her and yanked her into his arms. “Why? Because of this, damn you!”

He brought his mouth to hers, intending to kiss her hard, but at the last minute, his mouth softened. He tasted her, smelled her, felt her velvet skin beneath his hands and groaned. The kiss teased, then demanded, as he pulled her into the heavy, aroused ache in his groin. He kept kissing her until he tasted the salt of her tears. Throat tight, he pulled her face onto his shoulder.

“Don’t cry, Lucy. Please,” he whispered.

The door opened behind them and Brandon spun. Seth stood there with Linda hovering behind him.

“What the hell are you doing, Brandon?” his brother demanded.

“Mr. Barrett,” his secretary spluttered, “I tried…”

“The board will be here in five minutes. Is this what you call damage control?”

Lucy went rigid in his arms. “Turn me loose,” she hissed.

“Lucy!”

“No!” She glared at all of them. “Just get the hell away from me.”

“Wait. I’ll take you…”

“Nowhere,” she whispered in a flat, dead voice. “I don’t want your help. I don’t need it. You’ve already done more than enough. Believe me.”

She pushed away from him, avoiding his hands while she stalked from his office. He started after her.

“Brandon!” Seth growled. “Let her go for now. Tessa can help us find her, and you know she’s tied in with Mason Hatch. Right now you’ve got to meet with the board.”

Brandon’s heart thudded. She stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed, blocking her from view. He swallowed, blinked a couple times, then smoothed his hair.

“Linda, make sure there’s a cab waiting for her. Have the bill for her fare sent to me.” He would at least make sure she could get wherever she was headed safely.

* * * *

She didn’t question the different cab out front, but slid in gracefully and gave Angelina’s address. When they reached the house with its verdant, blooming yard, she told the man to wait until Angelina could come out and pay him.

“No problem. Your fare’s taken care of, and I was instructed to wait unless you no longer needed me.”

“You can go.” Even if Angelina wasn’t there, Lucy was staying. She would wait until her friend returned. One thing was for sure, she was in no hurry to get to her house. Oh God, she needed to call Roberto and let him know what was going on. He would be so upset someone had taken pictures inside the club. She dashed up the sidewalk and pounded on the door. As soon as Angelina saw her, she pulled her inside the house.

“Lucy? What’s up?”

“Oh, Angelina, you will never believe it.” She launched into her tale, and the other woman pulled her into the kitchen, seating her at the table. While Lucy continued to talk, Angelina poured coffee and set a plate full of fresh, yeasty rolls on the table for them.

“Drink some coffee and eat something. If I know you, you ran before breakfast and haven’t had anything to eat, have you?”

“No.” But then, she hadn’t wanted anything either and still wasn’t sure she could eat. Still, she would be polite. So she drank and ate, and surprised herself by being able to do so. “Thanks, Angelina.”

“No problem. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

The other woman appeared a few minutes later with a serviceable pair of gray sweats with
Hoyas
emblazoned in blue across the front of the hooded sweatshirt.

“Your alma mater?” At Angelina’s grin, Lucy smiled. “Mine too.”

“Now, let’s discuss what we need to do. You’ve already seen Brandon, though it doesn’t appear that was productive.”

“At least I know I’m considered ‘damage’ that needs to be controlled.”

Angelina arched one brow at her. “I’m not sure that’s accurate, but we can visit that line of thought some other time. Have you talked to anyone else?”

“No. But I need to call Roberto. He should know someone took pictures in the club last night.”

“I think he should also know someone in his employment gave out your real name.”

Lucy’s gaze snapped up from where she was buttering a roll. “Huh?”

“Be realistic. There’s no rational reason for Barrett to do that to you.”

Lucy swallowed. “You didn’t see the look on his face Saturday night when he slapped his money on stage.”

Angelina leaned back in her chair. “Think about it. Think how angry you were to discover the communications company he made sound so minor was Barrett newspapers? Doesn’t he have a right to be angry you never mentioned you were a stripper?”

Lucy looked away, tucked a stray hair behind her ear and snatched her coffee cup. “I–I guess so.”

“Well, I think we can attribute his reaction to that, but no one in his position is going to seek what’s in
DC Nightlife
on purpose. So that leaves only the people you work with.”

“Or Mason.”

Angelina shook her head. “No. Not his style, and not the way he would choose to get you noticed, but I think you can add him to the list of people you need to call. Anyone else?”

“No. I don’t have any family, and I never kept in touch with any of my foster families.”

“The next thing we need to do is figure out how to get you into your house…and out again.”

“Don’t you think they’ll give up? I mean, it can’t be that big of a deal.”

Angelina leaned forward and covered Lucy’s hand with hers. “They’ve already dug enough to find out where you live. Someone will make the connection to the plane crash in pretty short order. You can bet on it.”

Lucy pushed her plate away. Now her appetite had vanished.

* * * *

Brandon saw no friendly faces in front of him. At best there were only less hostile ones. And those consisted of Seth, Phillip and his sister Stacey. The rest of the board members were stone-faced. Bill Frank sat at the head of the table as acting chairman. Brandon sat at the foot of the table with Seth at his right hand.

“Brandon,” Frank began, “I think we know why we’re gathered here, but in case there’s any question–” He looked around the table. “Has everyone seen
DC Nightlife
?”

There were nods around the table.

“This is a serious slap in the face for Barrett Newspapers. This company has always maintained a very low profile, conservative image, and in the competitive market in which all media companies find themselves right now, this type of situation has the potential to do irreparable harm.”

“What I would like to know,” one of the other directors said, “is what the hell someone was doing with a camera in there?”

“I have a call in to the owner,” Seth murmured. “His reputation is impeccable, and I know for a fact he would never sanction or countenance such an invasion of privacy, either of a client or a dancer.”

“It’s not the dancer I’m concerned about,” Frank stated.

At last, Brandon had heard all he wanted to. “Well, that’s exactly who I’m concerned about, damn it. Her name is Lucy Cameron, and she’s not some bimbo stripper.” When Frank started to interrupt, Brandon held up his hand. “She’s an artist–a potter–with a master’s degree from Georgetown, but more than that… She’s the woman who saved my life following the plane crash in Colorado. If for no other reason, I owe her for that. I can assure you, she’s been far more damaged by this than me.”

Bill Frank’s expression was cool. “Unfortunately, in my position as acting head of this board, it’s not her reputation or yours I have to be concerned about. It’s the company’s. Right now, we need to decide the best way to effect some sort of damage control.”

Brandon’s temper boiled. Added onto his uncertainty about how Lucy was doing, it was not a good combination. He was about to snap again when Seth kicked him under the table.

“I have an idea,” his elder brother said. “Rather than try to sweep this under a rug, I believe our best bet is to meet it head on so we can put our own spin on it.”

“What are you suggesting?” Brandon gritted out.

“Bran.” Seth leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table. “Those reporters aren’t going to quit until they know everything they can find out about you and Lucy.”

Brandon leaned back, his arms folded across his chest. “Is that supposed to be news to me, bro? Because they’re already camped outside her damn door. Why do you think she showed up here in her running shorts? She couldn’t even get to her house, for Christ’s sake.”

“Then it’s even more critical we hit this head-on right away. Here are the options I see. We can publish the story in our own papers, but the complete story, including Lucy’s role in the plane crash, or we can call
DC Nightlife
and promise the reporter an exclusive. The problem with the second option is
Nightlife
is a weekly. We can cover about thirty percent of the U.S. with our dailies…even more with our websites. If we own the story, then it loses its punch and will blow over.”