Redemption (39 page)

“Like you, Claire? When you found out you were pregnant?”

She shook her head. “No. I wasn’t a-ashamed. I was happy. So happy, to be having your baby. I wanted something for myself…a part of what we had. Oh, Matt, can you understand that?”

Matt did. And it shook him to the core that she had felt for him then what she couldn’t admit now. She had never known love, the kind of love he had been given all his life. Instead, she’d received nothing but condemnation, punishment that, judging by his experience with Roy and Deborah Porter, couldn’t have been anything but cruel. It was no wonder she had developed such a tough skin, though he knew better than anyone the woman underneath was soft as butter.

The harsh words of the press would have been doubly damaging to her all those years ago, and more recently, her son’s anger when he found out her lies—Matt had seen how hurt she was, hurt enough to turn to him for comfort.

“You were trying to protect Tripper from him—from Porter, weren’t you? You were afraid he’d find you both, subject him to the same treatment he had you—”

“No! I would never have let him near Tripper! Never.” She gave him a fierce look through the fresh tears, and then her voice calmed as she continued. “I even had a will drawn up, naming you as guardian should anything ever happen to me. And if you hadn’t wanted him, I had friends lined up. His soccer coach in San Francisco. I told him just enough about the situation, enough so that he agreed.” She wiped at her cheeks, but the tears kept falling, as if from a frozen water pipe that had finally burst.

Matt regarded her, his head raised slightly from the pillow. “Claire…have you ever thought, maybe you should get counseling? The doctor in California—”

She bristled. “I don’t need a shrink!”

“Abuse is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed!”

“Then why did I have to hear about your parents from a damn reporter? You told me they were dead.”

“They
were
dead,” she insisted. “To me. I never intended to have anything to do with them.”

He held her gaze. “What he did to you was unforgivable. The abuse—I saw those photos. He should have been prosecuted.”

She looked away, then scoffed, “This, coming from the man most likely to forget where he placed his grudge? I don’t intend to forgive…just forget,” she said firmly.

He wanted to argue—every time he thought of what had been done to her, he wanted to rip into Roy and Deborah Porter with his bare hands.

But she had learned to deal with it her own way. By presenting that tough-as-nails exterior, by guarding her emotions, parceling them out like candy on Beggar’s Night, she had warded off the normal wear and tear of life.

She had refused to let anyone close who could hurt her—except once, when he had slipped past her guard. He was pretty sure she had begun to let it down again, just a little. A little more, and maybe he’d have a chance.

From the look of the damp sheets next to him, it certainly looked as if a thaw was in the works.

A nurse came in, took Matt’s temperature, and reminded him to get some sleep, giving Claire a stern look. She started to leave, the fight drained out of her, but Matt motioned for her to stay. His family would be arriving soon, he told her. As soon as they had heard the news, Mark and his mother had taken off for the Great Falls airport. They should arrive at any minute.

She settled back in the chair, pulling her feet under her. As soon as Matt’s family arrived, she would leave, but until then…until then she would stay.

After her unaccustomed cry, she felt as if a flood had finally abated, leaving her dry, but replenished. She was still shaky with emotion but blessedly aware. No longer numb. Aware of Matt, beside her on the bed, the bandage pristine against his skin.

He had no white charger, his suit of armor was invisible, but he was still her hero. A love so overwhelming surrounded her, wrapping around her like a blanket, warming her heart, repairing her spirit that had been so nearly broken, filling her with a blissful sense of peace.

She wanted him in her life, and if that meant taking a risk, the rewards were well worth the emotional investment. She didn’t need a balance sheet and a calculator to tell her that.

She closed her eyes, the florescent light shattering into patterns against her eyelids. For so long, she had tried to hide from her feelings, unconsciously protecting her fragile emotions. But now she realized they weren’t in any danger. There was no need to run from what she felt. Matt’s love was a sturdy thing, not easily broken, not easily destroyed. Strong enough to hold her and Tripper.

Roy Porter had tried to cleanse her of sin, but the real sin was what she had done to herself. Keeping her love under lock and key, only letting it out in small doses.

It was time to set it free.

The thought settled over her tired mind as she realized she had forgotten to ask Matt how his prison stay had gone; she hoped he had all the research into troubled pasts that he needed. Hers, she could shove back into the dark closet of her mind. She had read once that nightmares were only terrifying until they were shared. By sharing hers with Matt, her dreams had lost their power over her.

An incredible feeling of joy washed over her, and she wanted to shout with it, but she could only manage a tired smile as she gazed at Matt. He was losing the struggle to keep his eyes open. She leaned over and switched off the light, then kissed him lightly on the lips, his whiskers tickling her chin.

“Get some sleep, Superman. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

But the next day, she realized she had another priority. Her secretary called her at home. Maria, the temp who had taken over for Joan, was overwhelmed. With all the excitement yesterday, the phones were jammed with inquiries from all over. Associates wanting to know if she was all right, if Kaslow’s was undergoing another change of leadership. Claire tried to calm her but then agreed to come in. The employees needed to see her face, in person, rather than the image of a frightened victim shown on the late news.

Before she went in, she decided to make a quick stop at the hospital. It was only a few blocks away, and she wanted to see Matt again. She hadn’t even thanked him, she realized, she had been in such a state of shock last night. After a few hours’ sleep, she felt more like herself, the tears of last night seeming to have come from another person.

But inside, she still felt like a great weight had been lifted. She hurried up the steps to the hospital, hardly able to contain a smile as she entered the elevator.

When she reached his room, she was surprised to find Laura Hayes there, looking like she had come straight from a photo shoot—which she had. A press shoot for
Lyin’ Hearts
had been scheduled for that morning, Claire remembered.

She was sitting on the end of his bed, her feet, clad in the slimmest of sandals, dangling over the edge. Matt lay under a sheet, a sling protecting his arm and a six-inch gauze pad just below his left shoulder. His face had been shaved, but his hair stuck out in disheveled spikes. He looked rumpled and sexy, a warrior after the battle, ready to sample the morning-after spoils.

Which came in the form of cookies—an open box from Reading Market lay on the bed.

Laura brushed crumbs from her hands. “Hi. You must be Claire. I’m Laura.” She turned her warm smile on Matt. “I stopped by to see how my roomie was doing…and to bring him some magic pain-relieving cookies.” She pointed to the box. “Have one. They’re chocolate chip pecan, his favorite.”

“No, thank you. I have to go to work. I just stopped by to see how Matt was—”

Matt eyed her sharply, his lids dragging low over his eyes. “Matt’s great,” he replied, his tone sarcastic. “Strung out on drugs, surrounded by pretty nurses and magic cookies. What could be better?”

She swallowed, unsure of his mood. “Well, that’s nice.”

“What’s this about you going to work? I thought the store was closed today.”

“It is. But the administrative offices are still open. And I’ve got a pile of correspondence to answer—”

He scowled. “Why do I get the feeling the store could be burning and you’d still be answering your email?”

Laura gave him a wide-eyed look. “My, someone sure is grumpy. Maybe that nurse needs to come back with that enema bag.”

“And maybe someone needs to take a day off. Come on, Claire. You were a hostage not twenty-four hours ago. Hell, even Terry Anderson took a year off.”

She gave him a tight smile. “Yes, well, I’ll start on my memoirs tomorrow. Today I have a store to run.”

“I’m leaving for Montana later today. As soon as the doc signs my release papers.”

She gaped at him. “But you can’t! You’ve—you’ve got a hole in your shoulder! And the police want to talk to you,” she added.

“They were here this morning. They said an attorney’s been appointed for Porter. I expect the guy will plead insanity. Son of a bitch should be locked up for life.”

Claire looked away. She didn’t want to discuss Roy Porter. And Matt certainly didn’t seem to be in a mood to discuss their future together. Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe he wanted a woman who could be at his beck and call twenty-four hours a day, who could accompany him to film sets, even co-star in his next film.

Maybe he preferred blondes.

Laura reached over and picked up a cookie.

Blondes bearing cookies.

Suddenly, all the old insecurities flooded Claire, and she was twenty-one again. And Matt was turning away from her, like the day at the police station after Hayley died.

She glanced at the door. “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better. I’d better be going. I had the driver wait for me.”

“Hold on—” he began.

Laura looked sheepish. “Actually, I was just leaving,” she began, while Matt called, “Wait!”

But Claire was already at the door, dragging her insecurities with her.

She almost ran into Matt’s mother on the other side.

“Claire, I was hoping I’d see you. Matt told us everything that happened.” She shook her head, a soft pitying look in her green eyes. “You poor thing. You must have been scared to death.”

Claire couldn’t answer her. Matt had told them everything? All of his ugly suspicions, about the rape—about the doubts concerning Tripper’s paternity? Of course he had. His family was the most important thing in his life. It was to them he owed his loyalty.

And she was just an outsider, a woman whose passions involved spreadsheets.

In the cold light of day, she realized how silly the idea was. That she and Matt could have a relationship, could manage to work around their vast differences in personality, in lifestyle. Sure, they had their share of passion-filled moments. But when the sex was over, she still had responsibilities—responsibilities she wasn’t willing to give up, and he still had his films to make.

What had she been thinking?

Joyce put her hand on her arm. “Why don’t you stay? Have some lunch with us. We’d like to see Tripper while we’re here.”

“Of course, Mrs. Grayson. I’ll bring him by after school. But I can’t stay. I really have to get back to the office. I’ve got a meeting.”

She didn’t notice the tears slipping down her face.

Laura gazed at Matt earnestly. “She loves you, Matt. It was written all over her face!”

His mother walked in before Laura could finish the lecture he could see coming. “What on earth did you say to make that woman rush out of here like the place was on fire?” she asked, coming to a stop at Matt’s bed.

“I didn’t say anything. She’s got some damn fool notion to go to work today, when it’s obvious she’s been through hell and back.”

He was beginning to wonder if the woman who had cried her eyes out on his bed last night had been real or just a character from his drug-induced dream. Despite what Laura said, he had battled with Claire enough to know she was an expert when it came to dodging her emotions, and she would relax her guard when hell froze over. Last night, if it had occurred, had been the result of shock.

“Well, I think it’s high time you put a ring on that woman’s finger and made an honest woman out of her.”

He snorted. “Mother, the last thing she wants is to get married for Tripper’s sake.”

“Then what about hers? She needs you, Matthew. And Lord knows you’re head over heels in love with her.”

Like part of a matchmaking tag team, Laura backed her up. “He is. You should have seen him on the set. Once or twice, when we were filming at Kaslow’s, he thought he saw a glimpse of her, and suddenly, Mr. Suave and Debonair became a sixth grader again. It was really cute, Mrs. Grayson.”

“Cute?” he exclaimed. “Don’t you read my press anymore? What the hell happened to the ‘Quintessential Guy’?”

She smirked. “He’s in love and scared to death she doesn’t feel the same way. I think it’s adorable. I mean, here you are, a big star and all, and you’re afraid to ask the girl of your dreams to the prom.”

Matt blinked. Was she right? Was he so afraid of offending Claire that he had backed off too soon? Had he been too afraid of pushing her, in her vulnerable state, to convince her he was serious?

Maybe she needed some pushing. Though she was a fierce fighter in the boardroom, underneath those chic, armored suits was a scared, shy little girl who had been told repeatedly by her parents that she was worthless.