Harvest Moon (6 page)

When her parents had come to Los Angeles to see her they hadn’t been able to hide their shock at her weight loss. Her father promptly made a reservation at a restaurant and ordered every high calorie selection on the menu. Meanwhile, her mother had stared at her with tear-filled eyes before asking whether she was feeling well. She had spent more than two hours reassuring them she felt wonderful and that she was healthy. The elder Coles’ fears were allayed once they saw her image on the screen. Their daughter was sensually entrancing.

She thought of her parents, brother, and sister as she sat sipping coffee, realizing how much she missed them. She missed five-year-old Arianna following her around and imitating her every motion, and seven-year-old Tyler. Her brother was quiet,
reflective, appearing mature beyond his young years. He rarely smiled, and if he did it was a shy, attractive one. Everyone teased him and called him “old man.” Tyler did not seem to mind. He existed in his own private world, daydreaming and keeping his fantasies to himself.

Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes, willing back tears. In a moment of melancholy she realized she was homesick. She wanted to go home—back to Florida. She was only seventeen, and Harold Jordan’s drugging attempt and planned rape had compounded earlier childhood fears.

Her eyes opened and she stared at the highly waxed black and white vinyl floor tiles, a slight smile curving her mouth. As soon as Oscar recovered from his surgical procedure she would return home for an extended visit. The upcoming film her agent wanted her to accept would wait, wait until she was ready to step onto a movie set and in front of a camera again.

Present day

R
egina stared at Aaron, who stared back at her in obvious astonishment. “I wanted so much to go home. But…”

“Did you ever return to Florida?” he questioned after her words trailed off into a prolonged silence.

“It was another two years before I was able to go home. Meanwhile, I’d moved into your father’s house, even though he had a twenty-four-hour private duty nurse. His moods vacillated from highs to lows.
Silent Witness
won seven Academy Awards, taking Best Picture and Director. Oscar had finally earned his namesake, but his depression continued.”

“You did not win for best actress?” he queried.

“No, and I hadn’t expected to. I made one more film before I left the business completely.”

“Why?”

“Because Oscar was dying. The cancer returned, and this
time he lost the lung. I completed the second film, and we flew to Vegas and married. And when I returned to Florida it was as Oscar’s wife.” Her slender fingers curled into tight fists.

“My family was shocked. My father in particular was very angry, because I’d married a man who was so old. They didn’t know that Oscar was terminally ill. The mass the doctors removed from his lung had been filled with malignant cells. He spent more than six months undergoing chemotherapy, which weakened him so much that he couldn’t get out of bed for days at a time.

“We arrived in Florida in time to attend my uncle’s wedding, spent a week at my parents’ home, then returned to California to close up the house. We left the States for Mexico to avoid the photographers and reporters who had gotten word that we had married, and rented a small house near Acapulco. I thought living near the ocean would lift Oscar’s spirits, but it didn’t. Six months later we purchased
El Cielo
.”

Her eyes filling with tears, she tried blinking them back. “He loved living at
El Cielo
. Every morning he would get up and make his way over to the window and stare out at the mountains. He’d shake his head and smile, saying he loved the higher elevation because he felt closer to heaven. It took Oscar almost ten years to die. His will to live was so strong that it confounded every doctor who treated him.” She smiled through her tears. “He always protected me, even though I couldn’t protect him.”

“He was ill, Regina,” Aaron countered. “Terminally ill. There was nothing you or anyone else could do to change the manner in which he died.”

She bowed her head and bit down hard on her lower lip. “I refused to let him suffer. I made certain he was never in pain toward the end.”

A suffocating silence ensued, Regina and Aaron lost in their private musings. She was relieved that she had finally unburdened herself. She had told her parents she married Oscar because he was sick, yet had never disclosed the details of her near-rape at
the hands of Harold Jordan. That was a secret she had carried for ten years—until now.

Aaron swallowed several times before he could bring himself to speak. “Words cannot convey my gratitude. You truly were an extraordinary wife.”

What he could not say was that it should have been him, not Regina Spencer, who should have taken Oscar to the hospital for his chemotherapy. He should have given his father the injections of morphine whenever the pain had become unbearable. And he should have been the one who sat at Oscar’s bedside, holding his hand when he drew his last breath. He should have been there for his father at the beginning and at the end of his illness, but he wasn’t because of his so-called wounded male pride—a pride that had kept him from a father whom he knew loved him with his last breath.

“I did nothing extraordinary,” Regina stated softly. “I did what I did because I promised Oscar I would take care of him.”

“And I thought you’d married him for his money.” Aaron could not help verbalizing what he had rationalized the moment he laid eyes on his father’s widow.

Her body stiffened in shock. She knew he had been stunned by her youth, but she did not think he would be like the others who thought she had married Oscar for his money.

“Do you actually believe that?” she whispered. She could not disguise her annoyance as the query flowed tremulously from her lips.

Shrugging a broad shoulder in a manner that reminded her of Oscar’s elegant body language, Aaron ran a hand over his face, nodding. “I’m ashamed to admit I did,” he confessed. “When I first saw you that’s what came to mind. Why else would a woman marry a man old enough to be her grandfather, if not for material gain?”

“Maybe other women, but not Regina Cole,” she stated arrogantly.

A frown furrowed his high, smooth forehead. “Cole?”

“Yes, Cole,” she confirmed, smiling.

Aaron studied her intently for a moment, his eyes narrowing in concentration. “Are you related to the ColeDiz Coles?”

He might have lived most of his life in Brazil, yet he had always kept abreast of the American business market. His diligence paid off, because three U.S. pharmaceutical companies had agreed to underwrite the cost of several of his research projects for five consecutive years. He remembered ColeDiz because
Black Enterprise
and
Forbes
had listed the company as one of the wealthiest in the United States.

Regina watched Aaron with smug delight. He was no different than the others, whose expressions had given them away whenever Oscar introduced her as his wife. Some of them thought, and many had whispered, that Oscar was her
sugar daddy
, and she was only waiting for him to die so she could inherit his money. Oscar Spencer had earned less money than his comparable contemporaries, and three-fourths of his wealth had come from astute investments.

“Yes.” The single word was a soft, husky whisper.

“Ouch,” he gasped, grimacing. He saw the slight smile tugging at the corners of her lush mouth, and let out his breath slowly. “I’m truly sorry, Regina. Can you forgive me for being a narrow-minded fool?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. And I’ve never apologized for marrying your father—not to anyone. I was the one who proposed to him.”

Aaron placed a forefinger alongside his lean jaw. “That really must have shocked Dad.”

“Believe it or not, he was speechless. He refused to give me an answer until I threatened to move out and leave him with the live-in nurse, whom he had come to despise. He fired her once, but I rehired her as she was walking out the door.”

“Why?”

“Because she was the only one who would put up with his mood swings. There were days when his food ended up on the floor or on the walls.”

“And you were the only other person who would put up with him.”

Regina heard a measure of gentleness in his voice for the first time. “I was Oscar’s wife, and the nurse was a trained professional. I paid her well to take care of her patient.”

“She stayed because you paid her. But what about you, Regina? You didn’t have to stay. And most of all, you didn’t have to marry him.”

She had asked herself the same questions over and over, but was never able to come up with a plausible answer. Was it gratitude because Oscar had saved her from becoming a rape victim? Or was it because of her own fears—fears that returned and attacked whenever she found herself alone? Living with Oscar and taking care of him had not permitted her time to think about the six days of terror which she would carry with her to her grave.

There were times when she had thought of returning to her acting career, but she dismissed the notion as soon as it came to mind. She had been away too long, and the lure of the bright lights had lost their appeal. She would follow through with her plan to return to Florida and start over.

“I stayed because I loved him.”

Aaron shifted his attention to the passing landscape, Regina’s statement reverberating in his head.
I stayed because I loved him
. Sharon had said almost the same thing:
I can’t marry you because I’m in love with your father. Try to understand that I can’t leave him
.

He had not understood—not at the time, because he had felt betrayed by the two people he loved most in the world. But Sharon and Oscar were his past, and it was time he began anew.

He was thirty-seven, in excellent health, all of the institute’s research grants had been renewed for another year, and his coffee
plantation was thriving. It was the first time in a long time he looked forward to reaping a bountiful harvest.

His father’s death reminded him of his own mortality, and he realized it was time he existed for more than his research. Oscar had his movies, but he also had taken time to marry and beget a child to carry on his name and bloodline.

Aaron wondered how he had become so obsessed with his work that he had neglected himself, as well as ignored his own need to share his existence. When had he become so selfish that he had not permitted a woman into his heart and into his life? How had he survived the past twelve years, interacting with women only when he sought physical release?

There had been one exception. He had had a fleeting liaison with a woman two years ago, but decided to end it when she broached the subject of marriage.

Closing his eyes, he tried conjuring up Natalia Estevào’s face and failed. What he did see was the hauntingly delicate face belonging to Regina Cole-Spencer. He opened his eyes and turned around to look directly at her. As he studied her with a curious intensity, his gaze seemed to undress her as she observed him through lowered lashes.

His strong, masculine mouth curved into a sensual smile, and she returned it with one of her own. He was transfixed with the dimples in her velvety cheeks as they winked back at him. Reaching over, he held her hand, squeezing her fingers gently and not letting go until the driver stopped the car in the courtyard of the house built on a hill overlooking a picturesque valley.

He and Regina were connected by a bond, and the bond was Oscar Spencer. She had taken on the role as his father’s helpmate and comforter, and for that he was grateful. Eternally grateful.

Their smiles were still in place when he helped her from the car. She squinted against the blinding, brilliant rays of the blazing summer sun. Mexico was experiencing one of its hottest summers
in decades. Even in the mountain region the daytime temperatures peaked in the nineties.

“I’m going to take
siesta
in my garden,” she informed Aaron in the low, smoky tone he had come to listen for whenever she opened her mouth. “Feel free to take advantage of anything at the house. I’ll let the household staff know that they’re to take care of your requests. If there is something they can’t provide for you, just let me know.”

The front door opened at their approach and Rose greeted Regina in rapid Spanish, exclaiming excitedly about
el abogado
and
una carta
.

She smiled at her efficient housekeeper. The petite, forty-something woman had never cut her hair and a single, black, silky plait hung past her knees. “Dr. Spencer and I will see Señor Morales in the solarium. We will also need some liquid refreshment.”

Aaron waited until Rosa left before he turned to Regina. His gaze raced quickly over her face. “Are you having a legal problem?”

A slight frown formed between her eyes. “I don’t know. I suppose we’ll find out once we talk to Ernesto Morales. Oscar retained him to oversee his legal matters.”

She led the way down a long, narrow corridor that opened out to an expansive hallway laid out in the shape of a cross, with arched passages leading in four different directions. Turning in a northerly direction, they walked into a large, cool room filled with rattan furniture and massive potted plants. Thick, pale plaster walls kept the heat of the sun from penetrating the space, making it a cool place to sit and enjoy the beauty of the surrounding foliage, outdoor garden, and the towering peaks of the nearby mountain range. Decorative wrought-iron grillwork on arched windows brought to mind a Moorish, rather than a Spanish, influence.

Aaron walked over to an antique armoire rising more than ten feet in height above the brick floor, running his fingers along the
smooth surface of the nearly black wood. He did not have long to admire the quiet magnificence of the space when a slender man entered the room, cradling a leather portfolio under one arm. The lawyer’s eyes caught fire as they caressed Regina’s face and body. He watched Ernesto Morales lean over and place a kiss much too close to her smiling lips. It was more than apparent that the man was attracted to his father’s young widow.

“¡Buenas tardes!
Regina,” Ernesto whispered in her ear.

Her smile widened.
“¡Buenas tardes!
Ernesto. I’d like you to meet Oscar’s son, Dr. Aaron Spencer.”

Ernesto jumped back as if someone had seared his flesh with a white-hot branding iron. Turning slowly, he widened his gaze as Aaron moved from the shadows and into the middle of the room. He drew himself up straighter, knowing he could never match the height of the tall American looming above him. Oscar Spencer had been tall, at six-two, but Aaron Spencer eclipsed his father’s height by at least another two inches.

Extending his hand, Ernesto inclined his head slightly. “Señor Spencer. Ernesto Morales. I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. However, I must say that your father was truly a great man.”

Aaron shook his hand. “Aaron, please. And I’d like to thank you for handling my father’s estate.”

Regina waited until the introductions were concluded, then extended a hand toward a cushioned sofa. “Gentlemen, please be seated.”

Both men waited until she was settled on a matching loveseat before they sat down. She turned her attention to Ernesto. He was fashionably attired in a melon-green linen suit which flattered his dark hair and suntanned face. She had always found him attractive in a delicate sort of manner. He was of medium height, slender, and his features were too fragile for a man. They would have been better suited on a woman.

Her gaze shifted to Aaron, widening appreciably. She much
preferred his strongly defined masculine face and body, and his deep, powerful voice. If she had to choose between the two men, there would be no doubt that Aaron would be her choice. He hadn’t just sat on the sofa, but had draped his tall body on the cushions while crossing one leg over the opposite knee. There was something about the manner in which he sat that reminded her of her own father.