He sank down on the ottoman next to her, relieved to finally have the secret out in the open. “Okay. That’s lousy. About the last thing I’d expect you to do, knowing how strongly you feel about fidelity. But all the same…I still don’t understand how you get from a mistake to feeling driven to a suicide attempt.”
Her eyes started glistening again. “Because I’m in love with Griff. My own husband. How crazy is that?”
Garrett wished Emma were here. She’d know how to handle a conversation like this. He sure as hell didn’t. And now that Caroline had turned on the faucet, she finally willingly spilled more. They’d had trouble in their marriage, which Garrett already knew. But they’d mended the breach. And now they were like newlyweds again. In love. Deliriously happy.
“I would never cheat on him now, Garrett. But at the time, I thought we were separated. Fighting. I was certain we were headed for divorce court. It was still a stupid thing to do, sleeping with someone I barely knew, but-”
Garrett didn’t need any more details. “So this was when you two were separated-”
“Exactly. But if Griff finds out…” She shook her head. “I
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Garrett said. “Why does he ever have to know?”
And then, finally, came the crux of the crisis. “Because I’m being blackmailed. That’s why I took the pills. Because I can’t keep paying. And I can’t let Griff know. So there’s no way out of this, Garrett.”
Shock locked his tongue-but only for a second. “The hell there isn’t. Who’s blackmailing you?
She either didn’t know or she wouldn’t say. Garrett wanted to focus totally on the blackmailer but realized damn fast that that wasn’t an option. Right now his sister’s frail mental state was more important.
“Caro,” he tried to tell her, “Griff knows you. He knows your background. Our parents were hardly role models for a loving relationship or a marriage, now, were they? I think Griff will understand. He sure as hell won’t like it. But if he knows you at all…if he loves you any way it matters…it’ll be all right.”
She seemed calmed down before he left. But by the time he was walking back to his car, the sun was dipping in the west, a shivery breeze chilling the air.
It was true, what he’d said to Caro. Their parents had been rotten role models. Neither he nor Caro had felt loved or protected as kids. Their parents were devoted to each other on the surface, but their values were all tangled up with influence and affluence and what others thought of them. It wasn’t the kind of love Garrett had ever wanted-in fact, he’d always associated marriage with a more painful loneliness than being alone.
He didn’t know that had changed until coming home. Until reunited with Emma. Until
Through all the stresses and strains of the day, a handful of
It was crazy to hope, but there it was. Being with Emma had put the seed in his mind, his heart, and damned if he could stop it from growing.
The instant he got behind the wheel and started the engine, he dialed her cell phone again. This time,
He didn’t waste time on greetings or chitchat. Just said swiftly, “Thank God I finally reached you. I’ll be there in ten minutes, fifteen max, Emma.”
And then he shot out of his sister’s driveway and into the night.
Nine
Garrett turned the corner toward Color and felt his stomach drop. Although it wasn’t that late in the evening, he assumed the gallery would be closed and he’d be able to catch Emma alone. Instead, every light in the place seemed to be blazing.
As he strode up the walk, it was pretty damn obvious there was some kind of major event going on. When he pushed open the front door, he suffered an immediate guy panic attack.
The gallery lobby was packed with women, most of them dressed up and exuberantly waving around wineglasses. The scents of heavy, expensive perfumes were enough to choke a guy. A few said hello, but most were too intent on their gabfest to pay any attention to an intruding male-which was fine by Garrett.
Initially he couldn’t figure out what the big to-do was about, but once he threaded past the clutch of hard-core drinkers at the wine table, he could see the gallery was hosting some kind of perfume display. At least, there were old perfume bottles all through the front parlor and lobby.
He debated escaping-Emma obviously needed him around right now like she needed a hole in the head. But this couldn’t last forever. It was nearly nine, and the gallery normally closed at eight. Besides which, Emma had to be dead on her feet after yesterday’s incredibly long hours, so he figured she could use some TLC when this shindig was finally over.
He stuck his hands in his pockets, eased as far away as possible and feigned interest in the perfume-bottle displays. After a few minutes, he didn’t have to fake it.
He just checked out a few. Arden Blue Grass, 1934. Myon Coeur de Femme, 1928. Gabilla La Violette, 1912. Lavin L’Ame, 1928.
The price tags made him wonder why he bothered with investment banking when a bunch of old bottles were worth so much. As far as art went, he liked finger painting more-but clearly that opinion was in the minority in this crowd. He ambled farther, just looking and poking around, until he finally spotted Emma.
Damn, but a single look and his throat went whiskey-dry.
How she could still be on her feet and looking this good confounded him, but she was a tender feast for his eyes. She wore a long skirt, some fabric with a sheen, claret in color with some gold-threaded design near the ankles. He didn’t normally notice stuff like that, but somehow with her, he found himself noticing everything, because every detail was so much a part of her. The white blouse was simple, billowy, open at the throat to show off a triple strand of pink pearls. She’d left her hair loose, just brushed it back with a pearled clip on one side. She’d smudged a little satiny stuff around her eyes, used a ripe plum color on her mouth. If she was going for a peasant effect, it sure failed. She not only looked beautiful and striking but also elegant to the bone.
In the few minutes he’d wandered around, he’d figured out some things. Not just that old perfume bottles sold well. But also that the crowd was buzzing less about the event than about Reed.
So the vultures had come to peck about the broken engagement-at least when Emma was out of sight. The next time she ambled through the lobby, she spotted him immediately.
The look in her eyes put a hush in his pulse. She surged toward him as if thrilled to see him…but then he saw her swallow and noticed her posture tense with anxiety.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. But before they could connect, she was distracted by Josh, who was apparently leaving for the night. And then a phone call snagged her attention. One way or another, it seemed as if everyone wanted a piece of her.
He’d been in such a hot rush to tell her about Caroline. Still was. Still wanted her perspective on the whole blackmailer mystery as soon as he could get it.
He’d been in an even hotter rush just to see her. To touch her. To find out if last night had been as powerful- and terrifying-for her as it had been for him.
But it took another twenty minutes before she’d managed to shoo the last Eastwick matron down the front steps. By then, he’d had more time to study her, more time to see the strain on her face and to catch the tremble in her fingers. Emma wasn’t just tired. She was hiding it well, but clearly she was stressed, only functioning because she was too stubborn to crash. It wasn’t hard to guess that the breakup with Reed had spread through the town faster than ants at a picnic. She probably hadn’t had an instant’s peace all day.
The gallery echoed with an odd sense of stillness. Garrett felt his smile hesitate, an uneasiness pluck his heartbeat. She just looked at him when she locked the door. He saw her hunger to see him…but he also saw even more anxiety in her face.
