Authors: Sandra Brown
French Silk (61 page)
"You can't disprove it. And people always believe the worst, don't they, Ariel? In fact, you've used that human trait to your advantage each time you've spoken my name to the media."
Ariel opened her mouth, but no words came out.
"I was certain you'd see the wisdom in my argument," Claire said. "I think it would be best for both of us if we let this matter drop. I want nothing of Jackson Wilde's. Not even his hateful name. If I'm allowed to pursue my interests without any further interference from you, your husband's treachery will remain a secret. However, if you continue your crusade against me and French Silk, I would be forced to reconsider my position." Claire smiled. "But I'm confident I won't."
She looked at Josh. "Goodbye for now. I'll be in touch soon." She turned and moved toward the door.
Cassidy paused to deliver a parting shot. "I'm continuing my investigation into your husband's murder, Mrs. Wilde. I have new evidence which I'm certain will result in a conviction. In the meantime, I advise you to stay out of my business, keep out of my way, get your butt back to Nashville, and concentrate on winning lost souls."
* * *
"I'd like to help Josh further his music career. I know a lot of people in New York. I could introduce him around, get him in the right circles. He should have the opportunity to cultivate his talent as he always wanted to."
Claire and Cassidy were cuddled together on the glider in the courtyard of Aunt Laurel's house. Late that afternoon, news that she had retracted her confession reached the media. Every reporter in the country wanted statements from her and Cassidy. Crowder had told them to "clear the hell out, lay low for a couple of days," and let him handle it.
He intended to hold a press conference and announce that Claire Laurent had made a false confession in order to spare herself, her business, and her family any further distress. He planned to dismiss her confession completely, as it had been induced by harassment from the media and the Jackson Wilde Ministry, and bereavement over the loss of her friend and business associate, Yasmine. He would also suggest that the joint investigative forces were in possession of evidence that negated any involvement on Ms. Laurent's part and that opened up a whole new avenue of investigation. That was stretching it a bit, but Crowder was first and foremost a politician.
After leaving him, Claire and Cassidy had gone to Harriett York's house to see Mary Catherine. She had beaten Harry in every game of gin they'd played and proudly showed them the eighty-two cents she'd won.
"Harry's a perfect hostess, but when will we be going home, Claire Louise?"
"Consider this a vacation, Mama. In a few days, we'll all go home." She drew her mother close and hugged her tight.
"You've always been such a wonderful daughter," Mary Catherine said, stroking Claire's cheek. "When we get home, I'll bake you one of Aunt Laurel's famous French Silk pies. Do you like chocolate pie, Mr. Cassidy?"
"Love it."
Her face lit up. "Then we must have one very soon for you to share with us."
"I'd like that. Thanks for the invitation."
Now, Claire nestled her head on Cassidy's shoulder, content to be in this quiet retreat. They'd thrown a quilt over the weather-worn canvas cushions of the glider. It squeaked rustily each time it rocked, but Claire had never been as comfortable.
"Is Josh going to be another of your adoptees?" Cassidy asked with a smile in his voice.
"What do you mean?"
"You have a habit of adopting people and assuming their problems as your own. Mary Catherine. To an extent, Andre. Yasmine."
"Not Yasmine. She took me on."
"Maybe at first. But you were the strong one, Claire. The backbone of French Silk. The creative genius and the one with the business sense to market your product effectively. Her name might have helped to launch you, but she had come to need French Silk more than it needed her."
Claire knew that what he said was true, but it seemed disloyal to her friend to agree. "I'm going to miss her. I find myself trying to remember what day she's coming in from New York before I remember that she won't be coming."
"That's natural. It'll take a while."
"A long while."
They were quiet for a moment, the silence broken only by the squeaking of the glider. Finally Cassidy said, "What about me?"
Claire raised her head and looked at him quizzically. "What about you?"
"Are you going to adopt me, too?"
"I don't know," she said airily. "The last thing I need is another adoptee. What would I do with you?"
"You could acquaint me with the Vieux Carré, which you love, which is as much a part of you as your heartbeat. Teach me French. Talk over ideas for French Silk. Discuss my more interesting cases. Listen to me gripe. Go out for ice cream. Neck in public places."
"In other words be your companion and lover."
"Exactly."
They kissed in the balmy twilight. Several blocks away, a saxophone bleated out the blues. Someone living nearby was cooking with filé and cayenne pepper. The spicy aromas permeated the air.
Cassidy opened her suit jacket and covered her breast with a possessive hand. Their kiss deepened. Claire rubbed her bent knee against his fly, and he murmured her name with arousal.
When they paused for breath, he said, "You're a fascinating woman, Claire Louise Laurent. The most intriguing. The most mystifying."
"Not any longer, Cassidy." She took his face between her hands. "You know all my secrets now. Everything. I hope that you can understand and appreciate why I lied to you so many times. I had to. I had to protect Mama from any more pain."
He assumed that darkly intense expression that she associated with him and had come to love. "I've never known a woman—or a man, for that matter—who had such a capacity to love that she would sacrifice her life. I know that's the way it's supposed to be, but until I met you I thought it was an unattainable ideal. What I want to know is, does that love extend to me?"
She kissed him softly. "I've loved you from the day I met you, Cassidy. I was afraid of you and contemptuous of the system you represented, but I loved you."
"I haven't got much to offer you," he said ruefully. "What I mean is, I'm not as wealthy as you. I love my work. I'm good at it, but I'm not an entrepreneur. As long as I'm in public service, there'll be a ceiling on my earning capacity." His eyes moved over her face, scanning every feature. Then he whispered, "But I love you, Claire. God knows I do. Will you marry me?"
"How unfair," she said breathlessly, when he bent his head to her breasts. "You're asking me at a weak moment."
"Will you?"
"Yes."
Anxiously and clumsily, they grappled with clothing until she was astride his lap. When she sank upon his hard shaft, their sighs rose into the evening air.
* * *
The saxophone began another soulful song. Someone named Desiree was called to supper. A blue jay flew into the courtyard, perched on the basin of the fountain, and drank from the puddle of rainwater. On a breath of breeze, the leaves of the clinging wisteria rustled against the ancient brick wall and startled the chameleon into taking cover.
And the glider's rhythmic squeaking escalated until, with a shudder and a sweet sigh, it fell silent and settled into repose.
* * * * *
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