True Colors

Meredith’s eyebrows rose. “I wasn’t aware that I was paying them any special attention, Mrs. Dade,” she said innocently. “They’re very nice tippers….” She added that last bit with a calculating look and saw with pleasure that she’d given exactly the impression she meant to.

Mrs. Dade’s face relaxed into a smile. “I see.”

I thought you would, Meredith thought with silent satisfaction.

“Well, if that’s all it is,” Mrs. Dade continued. “But you mustn’t pay them such obvious attention. It does look bad. And I’d hate to have to let you go.”

That would be interesting, she thought. She wondered what Mrs. Dade would do if she fired Meredith and Cy found out. It might be the restaurant manager who was out on the streets looking for work, because Cy didn’t like anyone undermining his orders.

“I’ll be very careful not to let it happen again, Mrs. Dade,” Meredith promised.

The older woman smiled. “Okay. No harm done. I know how much you young girls depend on tips to keep you going. And you are very good at your job, Meredith.”

Meredith suppressed the desire to curtsy. “Thank you, Mrs. Dade.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.”

Dismissed, Meredith got her light jacket and walked to the bus stop, laughing softly to herself. She wondered what the businesslike Mrs. Dade would say if she knew how her erstwhile employee really was. It was like having a secret identity, and she loved the subterfuge. Of course, it wouldn’t do for her to lose sight of the reason she was here, she reminded herself, and the smile faded. The acquisition of those mineral rights was the bottom line, and she had to remember it. If Cy Harden and his mother got their noses bloodied in the fight, that wouldn’t bother her in the least. But she was holding the reins of Henry’s domestic operation. It wouldn’t do to let things get too personal. She had to keep her mind on the objective, without allowing herself to be too much diverted by the past. There were hundreds of Tennison International employees whose jobs hinged on the decisions she made. It was an awesome responsibility, and it allowed little leeway for personal revenge.

The wind was picking up, and it felt cool. Meredith closed her eyes, drinking in the feel of the breeze on her face. Until she’d come home to Billings, she hadn’t even realized that she’d missed it. Despite the long hours and hard work, this job was like a vacation, a safety valve from the pressure that had jeopardized her health. The aftereffects of pneumonia—the weakness and cough—had already disappeared. She felt stronger by the day, perhaps because she was finding her roots all over again. It felt good to be home, except that she missed Blake so terribly.

The bus was late, and Meredith was the only person waiting for it. When a sleek, light gray car pulled up beside her with the window down, she almost jumped out of her skin. Then she recognized the driver and her teeth clenched.

“You don’t need to be out here alone at this hour of night,” Cy said curtly. “It’s dangerous.”

“This is Billings, not Chicago,” she said without thinking.

He scowled, and she felt her heart stop, because she’d given away a tidbit of information she’d never meant to divulge.

“Know Chicago, do you?” he asked softly.

She smiled. “I know a lot of cities. Chicago is one, yes.” She put her hand on her hip and moved it suggestively. “One city is pretty much like another, if you know which streets are the best pickings.”

His eyes flashed as the insinuation penetrated. “And you did?”

She tossed back her long hair and gave him a blank look. “What do you think?”

His face hardened even more. The thought of Meredith having to go on the streets to stay alive at the age of eighteen made him sick, even sicker than the certainty that he’d condemned her to it. He had to block out the images of other hands touching her…

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she said harshly, borrowing one of Henry’s favorite euphemisms, “I didn’t become a streetwalker!”

He relaxed visibly, and she hated herself for reacting to that horrible expression in his eyes. She should have let him think what he liked.

“Get in,” he said, weary with relief. “I’ll drive you to the house.”

She didn’t argue. It was a dark and lonely night, and she’d never liked being on her own after dusk. Usually she wasn’t; Mr. Smith was always somewhere nearby.

“Who is he?” he asked as the powerful car purred away from the curb and down the long, wide street.

“He?”

“Don’t play games. The man leaving your house that morning.”

“His name is Mr. Smith,” she said simply.

“Is he your lover?”

She leaned her head back against the seat with a long sigh. “Isn’t it a nice evening?” she mused. “I always did love Billings at night.”

“You haven’t answered me,” he said impatiently.

“I won’t, either,” she replied. She turned toward him, her eyes steady and accusing. “You have no right at all to ask anything about my personal life. Not after what you did to me.”

He didn’t look at her. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Why didn’t you go with him?”

“He works in Chicago,” she said. “I work here. For the time being.”

His dark eyes narrowed angrily. “Is it serious?”

Her thin shoulders rose and fell. “Not really. He’s a friend.”

He let out a held breath.

“Why would it matter to you?” she asked, conversationally. “What we…did was over long ago.”

He looked at her while he stopped for a traffic light, his gaze slow and possessive. “I burn every time I look at you,” he said gruffly. “I ache for you. There hasn’t been one woman who could block you out of my mind for five minutes.”

Her face burned. “That’s lust,” she said, enunciating the word clearly. “That’s all it ever was to you. You wanted me. You couldn’t get enough. You’d have come to me from your deathbed if I’d asked you, and we both know it. But it wasn’t enough then, and it isn’t now.”

“I don’t remember you having so many moral scruples at the time,” he said mockingly.

Her head lowered. “I had none at all. I was in love with you.”

He made a sound. The flat statement had shocked him. He’d never really questioned Meredith’s motives for the affair. He’d always assumed that she felt the same helpless, raging desire that he did.

“Sure,” he said after a minute, his voice harsh. “That’s why you fell into bed with Tony.”

She tilted her head toward him and smiled coldly. “I went to you a virgin. I was so besotted with you that I couldn’t have given myself to another man if I’d been stinking drunk.”

“Maybe that was how you got him to help you steal the money,” he persisted, his eyes calculating.

She laughed. “Tony gave all the money back, though, didn’t he?” she asked icily. “And if you’d pushed him hard enough, he’d have told you that we never had either a conspiracy or a relationship.”

Cy looked straight at the road. “Tell me, Meredith,” he said unexpectedly.

“Tell you what?”

“The truth.” He looked at her. “Tell me all of it.”

She smiled, unblinking. “I offered it to you six years ago and you didn’t want it.”

“Now I do.”

“Then ask your mother,” she said. “Ask Myrna Harden for it.”

“You won’t get anywhere by trying to drag my mother into this,” he said. “We both know she disapproved of you.”

“She hated me,” she corrected. “I have Indian relatives, remember? I come from poor people, from ordinary stock. My parents had a very small farm until they died, and I can remember needing shoes and having to wear secondhand ones before my great-aunt and great-uncle took me in. But even afterward, I didn’t have social status or money, and that’s what your mother wanted for you. I wasn’t good enough. It had to be a blue blood.”

He turned into the street that led past her great-aunt’s house. His face was rigid with pent-up emotions. “Most mothers want what’s best for their children.”

She thought of Blake and nodded. “Yes. But all mothers don’t interfere to the point of making decisions for them. I never would,” she added.

He pulled into her driveway and turned off the engine and the lights, turning to look at her in the porch light.

“Why are you still here?” he asked quietly. “If there’s a man waiting in Chicago, why haven’t you gone back to him?”

She looked into his face, and all the anguish came flooding back, all the rejection, all the love. “I have my reasons,” she said.

He slid his arm over the back of the seat, tugging the fabric of his gray jacket closer to his muscular body. He smelled of spice and soap. Meredith remembered how it had felt to lie in his arms with nothing between them except the beads of sweat they generated as they melded together in passion.

He seemed to sense those memories. His voice was husky when he spoke. “The first time was under a tree by the lake on my ranch,” he recalled quietly, as if he’d read her mind. “We’d gone riding, but by then, we were both burning with need of each other. I pulled off your top and you let me. I put you down on the grass and you let me. I undressed you, and myself, and I couldn’t even wait long enough to arouse you. I had you—” his voice deepened as he moved closer “—in one long, hard thrust.”

She flushed. “Don’t!”

“Does it embarrass you?” he asked. He jerked her against him, imprisoning her against his chest. “You were tight and afraid, and when I started convulsing, you asked if I was hurt.” He bent and whispered into her ear, then her mouth. “But the second time, I kissed you from head to toe and bit the inside of your thighs and your nipples, and when I took you, you were ready for me. We were all over the ground that second time, thrashing, shaking. We came apart because I was too explosive, and you came after me, sitting over me to finish it. I watched you,” he breathed into her, his tongue following the words into the soft darkness.

Meredith’s eyes stung with tears as she reached up to him, her arms clinging. Vivid memories flashed through her mind.

“Yes,” he groaned. His mouth opened, insistent, while his hands fought under her blouse and bra to find the soft warmth of her body.

She didn’t think about the changes he was sure to find. He knew her body as well as she did in the old days. It was inevitable that her maturity would be noticeable.

His fingers pushed softly at one breast before his palm slid under it, lifting it. He raised his head, and his eyes burned into hers. “You’re bigger.”

“I’m older,” she said huskily.

He moved, and before she realized what he meant to do, he had the blouse and bra up past her collarbone, and he was looking at her. His breath caught at her soft firmness, at her delicate color.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed.

Her lips parted at the reverence in his tone. “I’m not…a girl anymore,” she whispered, trying to divert his curiosity.

“My God, I know that.” His eyes lifted back to hers. “You became a woman in my arms. Did you really think I could ever forget?” His thumbs rubbed down against her nipples as he spoke, and she shivered.

“Meredith,” he whispered hoarsely. He bent his head, his mouth poised over one taut nipple, his breath warming it.

The glare of headlights and the roar of an engine caused his head to jerk up. Meredith took advantage of his diversion to tug her clothing down and pull out of his arms. By the time the passing vehicle was out of sight, she was out of the car.

Cy managed to catch her as she reached the porch, his lean hands insistent as they turned her to him. “I want you,” he said, his voice ragged.

“I know that,” she replied tersely. “I’m just as vulnerable as I was at eighteen, and apparently every bit as stupid when I get close to you. But that won’t work twice. I’m not going to be your mistress a second time. I learned my lesson the hard way.”

He was breathing hard, his eyes still faintly glazed with desire. Her gaze fell and she could see the blatant evidence of his frustration.

“You still want me,” he said. “I could take away every choice you have. I could make you get on your knees and beg me for it.” He smiled contemptuously. “In fact, I did. Do you remember?”

She did. It had been just before his mother had filled his head with lies about Tony, that last wild loving—before the confrontation with his mother. He’d humbled and exalted her, and she’d been too much in love and too weak to resist him. She hadn’t known that Tony and Myrna had sold her out. She’d given in because she loved him, because she thought he was in love with her, too. But he hadn’t been. Ever. It had all been a means to an end. He’d only wanted her.

“I remember,” she said, stiffening as he drew her against his body. “Let go of me.”

His voice deepened. “That isn’t what you want.”

“It’s what your mother wants,” she replied, playing the only card she had left. She hoped that it would divert him, because her body was betraying her. It had been so many years since she’d been with Cy. She wanted him until it hurt, but she didn’t dare give in.

He hesitated, and she pulled back.

“Remember your mother, Cy?” she asked coldly. “Nothing’s changed. She still hates me.”

“She doesn’t have to love a woman I sleep with,” he said, resorting to cruelty as frustration and pain gnawed at him.

“But I’m not sleeping with you, Cy,” she said, holding her purse protectively over her sensitive breasts.

He stood there, towering over her, struggling to breathe normally. It was just like before, just like old times. He was falling headlong into her web, and he wanted her so much that he couldn’t even save himself. He looked at her and ached like a boy.

“Tell me you don’t want me, Meredith,” he said mockingly.

She moved toward her door, fumbling in her purse for the key. “What I want doesn’t enter into it,” she said. Wearily, she unlocked the door and turned, her eyes big and sad in her tired face. He looked only a little less worn himself. “I don’t want that madness again, any more than you do. Go home, Cy. I’m sure your mother will be glad of the company.”

“She didn’t come to see you, did she?” he probed. “That was a lie.”

“It amazes me,” she said, searching his face. “Even now, you automatically think that if someone’s in the wrong, it must be me. Myrna should be proud. She’s taught you that the only truth is hers.”

“At least she’s capable of it,” he replied.

She smiled. “Once I thought you might love me,” she said. “But I knew the minute you sided with your mother that it was only desire. Love and trust are both sides of the same coin. One is nothing without the other.”

He clenched his teeth. “You can’t accept the fact that my mother has any virtues, can you?”

“You don’t know what she’s cost me,” she replied coldly, “because you don’t want to know the truth.” She smiled again. “Someday, you’ll have it. I swear you will. And when you know what she’s cost you, you’ll wish to God you’d listened to me. Good night, Cy.”

She was inside with the door locked before he had time to reply. She wasn’t at all surprised to find that she was shaking.

Outside, Cy strode back to his car, bristling with temper and frustration. As usual, she had him weak in the knees. She was just as much woman as she’d ever been, and his response to her was powerful, immediate.

He fought himself out of the sensual fog by the time he got home, but something Meredith had said was disturbing him. You don’t know what your mother has cost you, she’d said. He frowned as he went into the house. Did she mean money? Or was it something intangible? Perhaps she meant her love. But he knew how treacherous she was. She’d betrayed him. Or had she?

That was a thought he didn’t want to entertain. He passed the living room, still deep in thought.

“Oh, you’re home,” Myrna said, rising from the sofa. “I waited up. You’ve been very preoccupied the past several days. I thought…you might want to talk.”

“About what?” he shot at her.

She swallowed. “About whatever’s bothering you.”

He moved into the room, his dark eyes threatening. “Did you go to see Meredith?”

That was a question she hadn’t wanted to answer. She could have lied, but what if one of the neighbors had seen her? It would be a risk to lie.

“I…did,” she said finally.

He scowled. “Why?”

“You know I don’t approve of Meredith,” she said quickly. “I was only trying to convince her that bringing back old memories won’t help either of you. I asked her to go away.”

“I gave her a job,” he reminded her.

She twisted her hands together, her face tormented. “Oh, Cy, she’s not for you! Don’t make it worse.”

“Make what worse?” he demanded. “What do you know that I don’t?”

She actually paled. “Cy…”

He moved forward, determined to get it out of her. Just as she panicked, the telephone rang, diverting him. Fortunately it was someone on business, and she excused herself quickly with a rushed “Good night.”

By the time she got upstairs, her heart was beating her to death. It was like a nightmare. Why hadn’t she realized the implications of what she’d done all those years ago? Her chickens had come home to roost, now. She didn’t know how she was going to survive if she didn’t get Meredith out of town fast.

CHAPTER SIX

BLAKE WAS ANGRY when Meredith phoned Chicago.

“Why won’t you come home?” he demanded. “You said a few days, didn’t you?”

“It’s taking longer than I anticipated,” she defended herself, sick over Cy’s rekindling of her physical needs and the slowness of her progress. “Blake, don’t push. You know I’d be home if I could. I have to support us, little man. I have to work.”

He sighed. “I know. But I miss you, Mommy.”

Her eyes closed. “I miss you, too,” she said, and it was true. She missed him more every day. Seeing Cy was like looking at a mature image of Blake. The pressure of trying to conduct business from a long distance, missing Blake, and dealing with the Hardens kept her nerves on end.

“Tell you what,” she said after a minute. “My secretary reminded me earlier when I phoned in that I have to go to a banquet Saturday night in Chicago. Suppose I fly up Friday night and spend the weekend? How about that?”

“Oh, Mommy, that’s radical!” he exclaimed.

Already, she thought, he sounded like a typical boy of the nineties. She laughed. “I hope that means you’re glad I’m coming. Now, put Mr. Smith on, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I gather that you’re coming home?” Mr. Smith asked with droll humor.

“For the weekend,” she emphasized. “I need to pick up some more diskettes for the computer and conduct a few personal visits to clients I seem to have been neglecting.” She added that last bit because her secretary had mentioned that those clients had reacted to some comments of Don’s that Meredith was taking a working holiday. How like him to forget to mention that it was on company business. He’d made it sound as if she were off enjoying herself to the company’s detriment. “Have one of the jets pick me up at the Rimrocks at six sharp Friday night. I’ll get off from work early.”

“Can’t get much work done on the weekend,” he murmured.

“Stand back and watch me. Or don’t you remember that Henry did most of his plotting at cocktail parties?” She grinned to herself. “The Harrisons are having that banquet for Senator Lane Saturday night, and Don promised to tag along. We can discuss the new computer operation and the personnel shift at the same time. Remind Don.”

“Will do. How do you plan to manage this project, the acquisition, and hold down a full-time waitressing job at the same time?”

“Don’t fuss,” she replied, although it touched her that he was concerned for her health. “I’ll see you Friday.”

She hung up before he could argue. It would be a lot of pressure. But, then, she’d had nothing except pressure since Henry died—and even before. She was young and strong and willful. Besides, it wouldn’t be forever. The pressure would end for a while once she had her hands on those mineral rights. Except that it was looking more and more as if the only way to do that was to get enough proxies from Cy’s stockholders to assume control of his company and force him into relinquishing the mineral rights. In fact, she’d determined that nothing less was going to work, so she’d already set the wheels in motion. And the thought of ousting him and his mother so delighted her that it had helped to stem the frustration she felt at being away from her son.

Cy hadn’t been to her house since the night he’d picked her up when she was working late. But Wednesday evening he came to the restaurant for dinner. He didn’t come alone. His companion was a beautiful redhead with long legs, wearing an outfit that had probably cost more than a week’s take at the restaurant. He was getting even with Meredith for his loss of control. She knew it instantly. Not that it did much for her ego or lessened the pain of seeing him with another woman. She’d heard plenty about Cy’s reputation with women since she’d started work. It was depressing, because he hadn’t been a rounder when he was with her.

She put on her best smile and let nothing she was feeling show as she greeted them and produced menus. “Would you like something to drink while you wait for your order?” she asked politely.

“I’ll have a German lager,” the redhead said carelessly, and named the brand she wanted. “And do make sure that they don’t substitute foam for beer, will you? I detest being shorted.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Meredith said pleasantly. “And what will you have, sir?”

“White wine,” he said curtly. He didn’t look at her. That sunny bright greeting had taken the starch out of his sails. He’d brought Lara here to make Meredith jealous. And he’d kept his distance, hoping that she might miss him. He wasn’t sure of his own motives, except that he ached for her. He wanted her more than ever, but she’d dug in her heels and wasn’t giving an inch. It was going to be an uphill battle all the way to get her back into his arms. Lara’s presence didn’t even seem to faze her. The old Meredith would have been in tears.

Meredith served them with the impeccable control that Henry had taught her. Cy looked darker and angrier by the minute as she did her best impression of a star-struck waitress serving her betters. Lara swallowed it, insisting that he leave a huge tip. Cy only glared at Meredith, his eyes promising retribution. She had to resist the urge to rage at him. She knew what he was doing, but it didn’t help her bruised feelings.

He was showing her that he attracted other women, beautiful women. Inadvertently, it helped her get a bridle on her own need for him. Nothing had changed. He was a playboy now, and he had no use for commitment. She’d do well to remember the way he’d thrown her to the wolves before, so that she wouldn’t have to repeat it.

FRIDAY NIGHT, she changed hours with one of the other waitresses—with Mrs. Dade’s permission—and called a cab to take her to the airport. She changed into a black wig and expensive coat, so nobody at the airport would mistake her for Meredith Ashe. It was just a precaution, in case anyone who knew her saw her getting into a Tennison International jet. Cy probably wouldn’t even know that she was away for the weekend, nor would he care. He was avoiding her lately with a vengeance. But just in case, she’d make sure she was seen leaving the Billings bus terminal Sunday afternoon.

She boarded the small corporate jet quickly, and in minutes she was bound for Chicago.

Blake was waiting at O’Hare with Mr. Smith. He ran to her, recognizing her through her disguise, outdistancing even his companion in his excitement.

“Mommy!” he shouted.

Meredith bent and picked him up, swinging him around with laughter brimming over inside her. It had been such a dismal week and a half, and she’d missed Blake so badly.

“Welcome home, ragamuffin,” Mr. Smith mused, his eyes pointedly assessing the dark wig and the worn jeans and sweatshirt under Meredith’s open coat.