Sugar Daddy (28 page)

There was a certificate for a private cooking class given by a famous TV chef…a golf lesson from a pro who had once won the masters…a rare wine collection…a personal song written and recorded for you by a British rock star.

“What looks good?” came Gage’s voice over my shoulder, and I had to fight the urge to lean back against him and pull his hands up to my breasts. Right there, in a room full of people.

“Damn.” I rested my fingertips lightly on the table, closing my eyes for a second.

“What is it?”

“I’ll be glad when we get through this stage and I can think straight again.”

He stayed right behind me, sounding amused. “Stage of what?”

My nerves sizzled as I felt his hand settle at my side. “There are five stages of dating,” I told him. “The first is attraction…you know, the chemistry and the sort of h-hormonal high when you’re together. The next stage is exclusivity. And then you settle into reality, when the physical attraction dies down…”

His hand moved to the highest curve of my hip. “And you think this”—a subtle stroke that sent my nerves jumping—“is going to die down?”

“Well,” I said weakly, “it’s supposed to.”

“You let me know when we get to the reality stage.” His voice was dark velvet. “I’ll see what I can do to get your hormonal high going again.” He finished the caress with a proprietary pat on my hip. “In the meantime…would you mind if I left you just for a few minutes?”

I turned to face him. “Of course not. Why?”

Gage looked apologetic. “I’ve got to say a quick hello to a friend of the family—I saw him in the other room. I went to high school with his son, who died not long ago in a boating accident.”

“Oh, that’s so sad. Yes, I’ll stay here and wait for you.”

“While you’re at it, pick out something.”

“What kind of something?”

“I don’t care. A trip. A painting. Whatever looks good. Anyone who doesn’t participate in the auction will get raked over the coals in the paper tomorrow for not giving a crap about the fine arts. It’s up to you to save me.”

“Gage, I’m not going to be responsible for spending all that money on…Gage, are you listening to me?”

“Nope.” He smiled and began to walk away.

I looked down at the brochure nearest me. “We’re going to Nigeria,” I threatened. “I hope you like elephant polo.”

He chuckled and left me amid the rows of auction items. I saw Heidi and Jack examining some items several tables away, until more people entered the room and blocked my view. I studied the tables carefully. I couldn’t figure out what in the world Gage would want. A fancy limited-edition European motorcycle…no way was I going to let him risk losing a limb. A Nascar experience in which you got to drive a six-hundred-horsepower stock car on a super speedway. Ditto. Private chartered yacht trips. Jewels with names. A private lunch with a beautiful soap opera actress…
As if,
I thought sardonically.

After a few minutes of dedicated searching, with lively melodic arias in the background, I found something. A high-end massage chair with an intricate control panel promising at least fifteen different kinds of massage. I decided Gage could give it to Churchill for a Christmas present.

Picking up a pen, I began to write Gage’s name on the bidding sheet, but the ink wouldn’t come out. The pen was a dud. I shook it and tried again with no luck.

“Here,” said a man beside me, setting a new pen on the table. He used the flat of his hand to roll it closer. “Try this one.”

That hand.

I stared at it dumbly, while the fine hairs on the back of my neck lifted.

A big hand, the nails sun-bleached, the long fingers scattered with tiny star-shaped scars. I knew whose hand it was, I knew it from a place that went deeper than memory. But I couldn’t make myself believe it.
Not here. Not now.

I looked up into a pair of blue eyes that had haunted me for years. Eyes I would remember to the last day of my life.

“Hardy,” I whispered.

I was paralyzed as I tried to take him in, this stranger I had loved so dearly. Hardy Cates had grown into all the promise of his younger years. He was a big, bold-looking man. Those eyes, blue upon blue, and the glossy brown hair, and the beginnings of a smile that sent a ripple of wonder through my soul…All I could do was stare at him, submerged in fearsome pleasure.

Hardy was still as he looked back at me, but I sensed the vibration of hard-running emotion beneath his exterior.

He took my hand gently, as if I were a small child. “Let’s find a place to talk.”

I clung to him, not caring that Jack might see us leave, not really aware of anything except the clasp of those callused fingers. Hardy drew me away by the hand, away from the tables, to the waiting darkness of the outside grounds. We skirted the crowd, the noise, the lights, cutting around to the side of the house. It seemed the light tried to follow, stretching weakening tendrils after us, but we headed into the shadows of an empty portico.

We stopped in the lee of a column as thick as an oak trunk. I was winded and trembling. I don’t know who moved first, it seemed we reached for each other at the same time. I was seized full-length against him, mouth to mouth, bruising each other’s lips with kisses too hard for pleasure. My heart thundered as if I were dying.

Moments of silent ravaging, and then Hardy tore his mouth away, whispering it was all right, he wasn’t going to let go. I began to relax in his arms, feeling the heat of his mouth as he followed the tumble of wetness on my cheeks. He kissed me again, slow and easy, the way he had taught me so long ago, and I felt safe and young and suffused with a desire so straightforward it seemed almost wholesome. His kisses tapped into deep mines of memory, and the years that had separated us fell away as if they were nothing.

After a while Hardy cuddled me in the loose sides of his tux jacket, his chest hard beneath the intricately tucked shirt.

“I had forgotten how this feels,” I said in an ache of a whisper.

“I never forgot.” Hardy touched the shape of my waist and hips through the folds of the white silk gown. “Liberty. I shouldn’t have come to you like this. I told myself to wait.” A catch of laughter. “I don’t even remember crossing the room. You were always beautiful to me, Liberty…but now…I can’t even believe you’re real.”

“How did you get to be here? Did you know you’d see me? Did you—”

“There’s too much to tell you.” He rested his cheek on my hair. “I thought you might be here, but I wasn’t sure….”

He spoke in the voice I had craved for so long, deeper now than in his youth. He was here at the invitation of a friend, he said, also in the oil business. He told me about starting work on the drilling rig—difficult and dangerous—and the contacts he’d made, the opportunities he’d watched for. Eventually he’d quit the rig and started a small company with two other men, one a geologist, the other an engineer, with the goal of finding new pay zones in mature oil fields. At least half the oil and gas in every field in the world was overlooked, Hardy said, and there was a fortune for those willing to go after bypassed pay. They had raised about a million in financing, and on their first try in a spent Texas field, they’d found a new zone worth an estimated two hundred and fifty thousand barrels of recoverable crude.

Hardy explained enough that I understood he was already rich and going to get a lot richer. He’d bought his mother a house. He had an apartment in Houston, which would be his home base for a while. Knowing of his fierce hunger to succeed, to rise above his circumstances, I was glad for him and I said so.

“It’s not enough,” Hardy said, taking my face in his hands. “The biggest damn surprise of it all is how little it means once you’ve got it. For the first time in years I finally had a chance to think, to take a deep breath, and I…” A frayed exhalation. “I’ve never stopped wanting you. I had to find you. I started by going to Marva. She told me where you were, and…”

“And that I’m with someone,” I said with difficulty.

Hardy nodded. “I wanted to find out if…”

If I was happy. If I still needed him. If it wasn’t too late for us. If and if…

Sometimes life has a cruel sense of humor, giving you the thing you always wanted at the worst time possible. The irony of it split my heart open, setting loose more bitter regret than I could bear.

“Hardy,” I said unsteadily, “if only you’d found me a little sooner.”

He was quiet, holding me against his chest. One of his hands ran down my bare arm until he reached the tight curl of my fingers. Silently he lifted my left hand, running his thumb over the bareness of my ring finger. “Can you tell me for certain it’s too late, honey?”

I thought of Gage, and I was swamped in confusion. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Liberty…let me see you tomorrow.”

I shook my head. “I promised Carrington I’d spend the day with her. We’re going to an ice-skating show at Reliant.”

“Carrington.” He shook his head. “My God, she must be eight or nine by now.”

“Time passes,” I whispered.

Hardy held my knuckles up to his cheek, pressed his mouth to them briefly. “What about the day after tomorrow?”

“Yes. Yes.” I wanted to leave with Hardy right then. I didn’t want to let him go and be left to wonder if I had imagined him. I told him my number. “Hardy, please…go back inside first. I need a couple of minutes by myself.”

“All right.” His arms tightened around me briefly before he let go.

We drew apart and looked at each other. I was confounded by his presence, this man who was so like the boy I had known and yet so unlike him. I didn’t know how the connection between us could still be there. But it was. We were the same, Hardy and me, we communicated from the same center, we had come from the same world. But Gage…the thought of him wrenched my heart.

Whatever he saw in my face caused Hardy to speak very gently. “Liberty. I’m not going to do anything to hurt you.”

I gave a little nod, staring blindly into the darkness as he left.

But he had hurt me in the past, I thought. I had understood his reasons for leaving Welcome. I understood why he’d felt he had no choice. I didn’t blame him. The problem was, I had gone on with my life. And after years of struggle and considerable loneliness, I had finally connected with someone else. My feet ached in my Cinderella shoes. I shifted my weight and wiggled my toes beneath the cutting Lucite straps. My Prince Charming had finally showed up, I thought wretchedly, and he was too damn late.

Not necessarily,
my mind insisted. It was still possible for Hardy and me. The old obstacles were gone, and the new ones…

There is always a choice. It’s a damned uncomfortable thing to know.

I ventured toward the light, fishing in the tiny purse hanging from my arm on a silk loop. I didn’t know how I was going to repair the damage done to my makeup. The friction of mouth and skin and fingertips had erased the carefully applied film of color. I powdered my face, and used the tip of my ring finger to wipe smudges of liner from beneath my eyes. I reapplied my lip gloss. The tiny crystal near the corner of my eye was gone. Maybe people wouldn’t notice. Everyone was dancing and drinking and eating; surely by now I wasn’t the only one with faded makeup.

As soon as I reached the back terrace I saw Gage’s dark form, tall and precise as a knife blade. He headed for me in a leisurely stride, catching my chilled upper arm in his hand.

“Hey,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

I forced a quick smile. “Just needed a little fresh air. Sorry. Were you waiting long?”

Gage’s face was shadowed. “Jack said he saw you leave with someone.”

“Yes. I ran into an old friend. Someone from Welcome, if you can believe it.” I thought I’d done a pretty good job of sounding casual, but Gage, as always, was terrifyingly perceptive. He turned me toward the light, exposing my face.

“Darlin’…I know what you look like when you’ve been kissed.”

I couldn’t say anything. The tiny muscles of my face twitched with guilt, my eyes turned wet with a pleading glister.

Gage surveyed me without emotion. In a moment he pulled his cell phone from inside his jacket and said a few words to the limo driver about meeting us out front.

“We’re going?” I asked around the spiky ball in my throat.

“Yes.”

We went around the side of the house instead of going through it. My Lucite heels sounded brittle on the pavement. Gage made another call as we walked. “Jack. Yeah, it’s me. Liberty’s got a headache. Too much champagne. We’re heading home, so if you could say something to…Right. Thanks. And try to keep an eye on Dad.” Jack made some comment, and Gage laughed shortly. “Figures. Later.” He closed the phone and replaced it in his jacket.

“Is Churchill okay?” I asked.

“He’s fine. But Vivian’s pissed because of all the women hitting on him.”

That almost made me smile. Without thinking I reached for Gage as my heel hit an uneven patch in the pavement. Immediately he took hold of me, his arm fitting across my back as we continued to walk. Even though I knew Gage was furious, he wasn’t going to let me fall.

We got into the limo, the plush dark cocoon insulating us from the noise and activity of the party. I was a little worried about being closed away in there with Gage. It hadn’t been that long ago that I’d been exposed to the lash of his anger, on the day I’d moved into the mansion. Although I’d managed to stand up to him, it wasn’t something I was eager to go through again.

Gage spoke casually to the driver. “Phil, drive us around for a while. I’ll let you know when to head downtown.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gage flicked a few buttons, locking the privacy screen in place, opening the minibar. If he was angry, I couldn’t tell. He was relaxed, sort of scary-calm, which was beginning to seem worse than shouting. He took out a highball glass, poured himself a finger of hard liquor, and downed it without seeming to taste it. Silently he poured another shot and offered it to me. I took it gratefully, hoping the alcohol would thaw me out. I was freezing. I tried to down the drink as quickly as Gage had, but it burned my throat and made me sputter.

“Easy,” Gage murmured, settling an impersonal hand on my back. Feeling the goose bumps on my skin, he took off his jacket and settled it around me. I was wrapped in the soft silk-lined fabric, warm from his body.

“Thanks,” I wheezed.

“No problem.” A lengthy pause. The sudden cold-steel impact of his gaze made me flinch. “Who is he?”

In my rambling stories of my childhood, all the details about Mama and my friends, everyone and everything in Welcome, I hadn’t once mentioned Hardy. I’d talked to Churchill about him, but I hadn’t yet been able to bring myself to do the same with Gage.

Trying to keep my voice steady, I told him about Hardy, that I had known him since I was fourteen…that aside from my mother and sister, he’d been the most important person in the world to me. That I’d loved him.

It was so strange, talking to Gage about Hardy. My past and my present colliding. And it made me realize how different the Liberty Jones from the trailer park was from the woman I’d become. I needed to think about that. I needed to think about a lot of things.

“Did you sleep with him?” Gage asked.

“I wanted to,” I admitted. “I would have. But he wouldn’t. He said it would make it impossible for him to leave me. He had ambitions.”

“Ambitions that didn’t include you.”

“We were both too young. Neither of us had anything. As things turned out, it was for the best. Hardy couldn’t have pursued his goals with me hanging like a millstone around his neck. And I could never have left Carrington.”

I had no idea how much Gage had read in my expressions, gestures, the razor-thin spaces between my words. All I knew was that as I talked, I felt something cracking, an inflexible mettle breaking like ice over moving water, and Gage trampled through it ruthlessly.

“So you loved him, he left you, and now he wants another shot.”

“He didn’t say that.”

“He didn’t have to,” Gage said flatly. “Because it’s obvious you want another shot.”

I felt drained and irritable. My head was a merry-go-round. “I don’t know if that’s what I want.”

Thin shards of light from the minibar broke his face into harsh slats. “You think you’re still in love with him.”

“I don’t know.” My eyes watered.

“Don’t,” Gage said, his calmness vanishing. “I’d do almost anything for you. I think I’d kill for you. But I’m not going to comfort you while you cry in my arms over another man.”

I pinched the corners of my eyes with my fingers, swallowing back tears that burned like acid in my throat.

“You’re going to see him again,” Gage said after a while.

I nodded. “We…I…need to get things straight.”

“Are you going to fuck him?”

The crude word, used to deliberate effect, was like a slap in the face. “I’m not planning to, no,” I said stiffly.

“I wasn’t asking if you’re planning to. I’m asking if you’re going to.”

Now I was getting mad too. “
No.
I don’t fall into bed that easily. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know that. I also know you’re not the kind who goes to a party with one guy and ends up making out with another one. But you did.”

I colored with shame. “I didn’t mean to. It was a shock to see him. It just…happened.”

Gage snorted. “As far as excuses go, sweetheart, that bites the big one.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. It’s just that I loved Hardy a long time before I ever met you. And you and I…we’ve only just started a relationship. I want to be fair to you, but at the same time…I have to find out if what I felt for Hardy is still there. Which means…I need to put things between you and me on hold until I can figure this out.”

Gage was not accustomed to being put on hold. It didn’t sit well with him. In fact, it sent him over the edge. I jumped a little as he reached out and hauled me close.

“We slept together, Liberty. There’s no backtracking from that. He doesn’t get to come in and derail us that easily.”

“We only slept together one time,” I dared to protest.