Sara's Song (4 page)

After a few minutes in the bathroom, Clay came back into Sara’s bedroom and began dressing. “Say...” he said, buttoning up his Levi’s, “you want to meet me at Ruby’s for breakfast in about an hour?”

“Sure.” She sat up and pulled the sheet up to cover herself, unsure about the rate at which
they
seemed to be moving forward, yet unable to stop herself from charging full speed ahead.

He pulled his shirt over his head and down over his torso. “I’m just gonna run home, take a quick shower and get ready for work.” He stepped forward and kissed her. “I’ll see you at Ruby’s.”

“Okay.” She watched him go. Clay Darlington could give Sara everything she’d ever wanted. A normal lifestyle. No drugs. No craziness. And most of all, no public betrayals.

“D
o you miss England?” Clay asked Sara while stirring sugar and cream into his coffee.

“I miss my mum and dad,” she said, tap-dancing around the reality of what it had meant to have lived there ever since she’d gotten mixed up with Kirk Bronson.

“Yeah, but…it’s your home. It’s where you were born and raised. Don’t you miss it?”

“I miss…what it used to be like.” She shrugged. “Before I met and married…” She let Kirk’s identity trail off, unheard.

Clay glanced outside and then back to her. “When I was a kid, I couldn’t wait to get out of here. Then I went away to college and on to the NFL.” He shrugged, but there was a distant look in his eyes. “By the time my world fell apart, I couldn’t think of anything but coming back here.”

Why did Sara get the feeling there was more to Clay’s world falling apart than a career-ending injury? “What happened?” she asked in her
I-really-want-to-know-about-you
voice.

“Compound fracture.” He shook his head like it was no big deal. “It’s hard to come back from those.”

“Have you ever been married?” Normally, Sara wouldn’t ask something like this so soon, but at the rate
they
seemed to be moving, she felt she had the right.

“Yes.” He gave an exaggerated nod. “And divorced. Right after Meredith found out she would no longer be the wife of a pro football player she headed for the hills…and I don’t mean the Sierra Nevada either.” He laughed, like he was telling a joke or something. But Sara got the feeling that Clay’s pride was hurting more these days than his heart.

A man carried a certain look in his eyes when he talked about a woman he had feelings for. Kirk had had that look in his eyes when he talked about Roxanne—while he and Sara were still married. Too bad Sara hadn’t realized that until after the fact.

But Sara was certain that Clay’s eyes were vacant of any lingering feelings for Meredith. This gave Sara a measure of confidence. “Maybe we should introduce your ex to mine.” Sara laughed, thinking Kirk would suit Clay’s ex perfectly.

“Have I told you how much I love your sense of humor?” he asked.

Sara’s cheeks heated under his praise.

“Clay...” A woman’s chastising voice echoed across the diner. Sara glanced toward the door, seeing a short, petite brunette charging toward them. Uh oh. Who in the hell was this? Surely, not Meredith. Barging toward them, she demanded to know, “Clay, where in the hell have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She bumped him over with her hip, pushing him to the other side of the booth as she sat down. A younger man, probably in his mid-twenties, remained standing at her side.

“M
icki...” Clay said with a hint of censure in his tone. This was a hell of a time for his sister to show up. “Was I supposed to meet you for breakfast? Did I forget?”

She smacked him, looked at Sara and smiled. “Hi. I’m Micki. Clay’s older sister.” She reached her hand across the booth. Sara shook it.

Older
sister. She always had to throw that in, like it meant something. All it meant was that Micki was going to reach the age for Social Security before him. “Micki.” Clay motioned between the two of them. “This is Sara.” He looked at Sara, and said, “This is my annoying sister, Micki.” Clay glanced back at his sister and shot her a hard glare. “She has a way of showing up at the most inopportune times.”

She didn’t seem affected by his words as she said, “You are coming Saturday night. Right?”

“Oh, come on, Micki. You know that’s not my thing.”

“I’m counting on you.” She pushed herself up and out of the booth. “Bring Sara too.” She headed for the door with her male assistant following her. “Eight o’clock,” she said without looking over her shoulder. “Don’t be late.”

Clay looked at Sara and grinned. “You wanna go?”

She gave him an inquisitive look. “Where?”

“My sister’s stupid party Saturday night.” He shrugged.

“You don’t seem too enthused about it,” Sara said cautiously.

“I’m only going to go if you go.”

“Great.” Sara sighed. “If you don’t go, she’ll blame me.”

“So we’re going then?” he asked with a wink. His smiled showed his dimples.

“Sure.” She tossed him an easy nod. “What’s the dress code?”

“Black tie. Evening gown.” He studied her for a moment, and quickly decided that anybody who could lay down cash for a new Corvette, could handle the price of an evening gown. “If you need suggestions on where to buy a dress, I’m sure Micki can guide you in the right direction.”

She shrugged. “I’m sure I have something appropriate in my closet.”

Of course, she did. Clay was starting to wonder just who this ex of hers was, and if he—Clay—could measure up.

CHAPTER 6

S
aturday morning, after Clay dropped Sara off at her apartment, she selected four of her favorite evening gowns from her closet and laid them out on her bed. She looked at the dresses, wondering which one Clay would like best. The blue, the black and white, the red, or the gold.

She’d spent every night this week with Clay. He’d taken her to his house last night and cooked her dinner. He’d grilled steaks, and baked potatoes, and had a cheesecake at the ready for dessert. He lived in a beautiful house surrounded by ten wooded acres at the end of a lane. She’d fallen in love with the house the moment she’d laid eyes on it. Of course, it helped that it came with Clay.

She pulled the gold dress up against her and glanced in the mirror. She’d worn the dress to the Grammys back in ’84. Kirk had said she’d brought him luck in it. Maybe it’d do the same for her tonight. That settled it. She was going to wear the gold one.

Sara wasn’t the superstitious sort. She had no qualms about wearing this dress tonight. She’d gotten over Kirk a long time ago, so the history of the dress mattered little to her.

She grabbed the remote and switched on the television in her bedroom. She liked having the MTV Channel on while she was dressing. If they played anything from Kirk’s band, it made her feel good to mute the sound.

As a video ended, Sara heard the VJ mention Roxanne Simon. That got Sara’s attention. Oddly enough, Sara didn’t hate Roxanne, not really, even though the woman was directly responsible for the single event that ended her marriage. Sara had thought she and Kirk were happy, in a good place. Clay was starting to show her differently. Kirk had never been as attentive as Clay. He’d never made her feel quite so special as Clay had a way of doing.

Well, Sara hoped that Kirk and Roxanne were happy together. She knew they’d begun an affair shortly after she and Kirk had split. But Sara also knew it was doomed. Kirk would never measure up. Roxanne Simon was madly in love with Frank Garrett.

A photograph of Roxanne wrapped in the arms of the actor David Faulkner overtook the television screen. Sara sat down on the edge of her bed and grabbed the remote, turning up the volume. “Reports are flying around New York City that Roxanne Simon and her latest co-star David Faulkner are involved in an off-screen romance,” Tamara, the guest VJ, said. “Last we heard, Roxanne and Kirk Bronson, the apparent father of her child, were giving it a go.” By the look on the VJ’s face, she seemed to be taking some perverse pleasure in this particular report. “Our affiliates in London contacted Kirk Bronson, whose only comment was that he and Roxanne were no longer an item, but they have parted on good terms and would remain great friends.” Tamara’s mouth twisted into a judgmental smile. “The girl gets around, doesn’t she?”

Wow. Kirk and Roxanne were no longer together? Sara almost felt sorry for Kirk. Almost. Just not enough to really care. Sara had moved on. To Clay.

C
lay arrived at her house at 6:30 that evening. When she opened the door he gasped as he took in the sight of her. He nodded and said, “Wow. You look amazing.”

“Thank you.” She tried not to let her smile get out of hand. The last thing she wanted to do was grin at him like an idiot. She raked her gaze over him. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He laughed and reached for her hand and they strolled toward his car. They drove to the community center, where Micki’s party was to take place. Clay let the car roll to a stop at the valet parking that Micki had hired for the evening.

A kid, maybe twenty or twenty-one, trotted up to the passenger’s side and opened the door. He offered Sara his hand and helped her out. Quickly, he trotted around to Clay, who’d already stepped out of the car. Clay walked the kid around the vehicle, pointing out that there was not a scratch on it and it’d better be returned to him in the same condition.

After Clay knocked a good year off the kid’s life, he ambled up to Sara, letting a smile touch the edge of his mouth. Clay offered her his arm and escorted her inside.

Micki and a tall, handsome man of about forty, whose dark hair had begun to gray at the temples, were waiting by a set of opened double doors. When Clay and Sara stopped in front of them, Sara peeked inside and saw a lavishly decorated ballroom.

“Micki.” Clay kissed his sister’s cheek, then turned to the guy at her side. “Justin,” he said as they shook hands.

If Clay was on a first name basis with him was he perhaps Micki’s husband? Of course, neither Micki nor Justin were wearing wedding rings. Sara didn’t take Micki for the no-rings type. Most likely a boyfriend or a close friend.

“Sara...” Micki grabbed her hand. “I’m so glad you could join us. And I must say...” She eyed Sara with a peculiar interest. “You do dress my brother up with class.” Micki ended her declaration with a little giggle, but Sara got the feeling she was still studying her. Why, Sara didn’t know.

“Very funny,” Clay said to Micki in a dry tone. He looked at her friend. “Justin...this is Sara.”

Justin smiled at Sara, shaking her hand. “Aren’t you the new reporter over at the paper?”

Sara nodded. “Yes, I am.”

“Harvey is my uncle,” Justin said. “He speaks highly of you. Says you take great pictures.”

Sara glanced away shyly, unsure about what to say. She wasn’t used to all these compliments. In her experience, those had been reserved for Kirk, her rock star ex-husband. This was new. Sara liked it.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Clay placed his hand against the small of her back, snuggling her closer to him. “She’s promised to take some pictures of my car.”

“You and that car.” Micki shook her head. “I swear.” She looked at Sara and raised her eyebrows. “Men. What are you gonna do?”

Sara shrugged. “Can’t live with ’em. Can’t live without ’em.”

“Lord, don’t I know it.” Micki laughed and slapped Justin against his chest.

Clay peered over his shoulder, then back at Micki. “Are we at your table?”

She nodded. “Sara’s sitting beside me.”

He grabbed Sara’s hand. “Do I at least get to sit on her other side?”

Micki smacked Clay playfully and nudged him into the ballroom, while she and Justin remained at the door to greet the rest of the party-goers.

S
ara touched up her lipstick before leaving the restroom and returning to the table where she’d found herself sitting with Fireside’s elite. It seemed like the entire town was there, and she was extremely proud to be Clay’s date. Then she found out she was at a fundraiser. Micki was running for state legislature, which Clay had explained was a little like Parliament.

She left the restroom and walked down the short corridor that opened up into the ballroom.

She barely had time to sit back down at the table when someone walked up and said something about pictures. Sara’s heart thudded against her chest. Would these photographs show up in the paper? Any picture of her that got published in any newspaper could find its way to the AP wire, especially a photograph of her in a gown she wore to the Grammy’s three years ago.

For the first time tonight Sara realized that wearing this dress had been a mistake.

Micki stood and waved at Clay and Sara. “Clay, you and Sara come join us.”

Clay folded his arms over his chest. “You go ahead.” He shook his head. “This is about you, Sis. Not us.”

Micki looked at Sara. “I’d be honored if you’d join me in the pictures.”

“Clay’s right,” Sara said. “This is about you. You go ahead.”

Micki looked exceptionally disappointed as she backed away from the table and headed out, but Sara couldn’t worry about that. She had to keep a low profile. Especially in this dress.

“Thank you,” Sara whispered to Clay as Micki and her entourage moved away from the table.

“Well, I know how important it is for you to fly under the radar.” It was definitely a statement, but something in his tone suggested it was open-ended.

C
lay had given Sara a clear opening to tell him more about this past that she was trying so hard to conceal, yet when she didn’t say anything, but instead started fidgeting, Clay added, “You want to dance?”

She nodded and smiled eagerly. Clay led her to the dance floor, thinking about what Micki had told him while Sara was in the restroom.

He’d scoffed at Micki when she’d told him that Sara was Sara Bronson, ex-wife of the rock star Kirk Bronson. But Micki seemed so certain. She said she’d thought there was something familiar about Sara when he had introduced them at Ruby’s Diner the other morning, but after seeing her in this evening gown tonight, Micki was one-hundred percent sure where she knew her from.

If there was one thing Clay could give Micki credit for, that was keeping up with fashion. Micki didn’t care a bit about who won what awards, but she never missed a red carpet show. She always watched to see what everyone was wearing, even though she’d turn the program off once the cameras went inside the venue.