The Bravo Family Way Page 10

  “Bust-ed. Listen, can you talk?”

  Ashlyn glanced up then.

  Cleo met those wide, watchful eyes. “Well, as a matter of fact, Ashlyn was just beating the pants off me at Concentration.”

  “You’re at Fletcher’s.”

  “I am.”

  “And he has to work.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I’m married to his brother. Come on over, both you and Ashlyn. It’s just me and the kids—until noon, when Aaron has sworn to join us for a little quality family time.”

  “But Fletcher said he’d be finished in an hour or so.”

  “Cleo, it doesn’t matter what he said. Take it from a woman with a Bravo man of her own. He won’t be finished until noon. And if he is, Mrs. Dolby can tell him where to find you.”

  At Celia’s, J.J. was napping. Ashlyn trotted right off to Davey’s room. Cleo and Celia took seats on a sofa in the living room.

  “You know,” said Celia once Cleo had brought her up to date on the Fletcher situation, “he has had a few girlfriends in the past couple of years….”

  “Is that supposed to reassure me?”

  “Let me finish. He’s had girlfriends—but until you, none of them have gotten anywhere near Ashlyn.”

  “So you think maybe he’s looking for a new nanny?”

  Celia leaned closer. Winter sunlight from the wall of windows behind them brought out the gold highlights in her red hair. “I’m serious. This is a major step for him. You’re the only one he’s allowed near his little girl. And look how near. He leaves you alone with her. That’s a very big thing, believe me. He’s so…protective of her. He works like a demon, but that child is the center of his life.”

  Cleo bit her lip and nodded. “I know that. I do. And…well, I have to admit I’m beginning to feel a little hopeful about the two of us. The past couple of days have been like a dream come true….”

  Celia knew there was more. “But?”

  Again Cleo kept it low. “Last night I asked him about his ex-wife. He was reluctant to talk about her—more than reluctant. It was like a curtain going down. Maybe it’s too early for me to be asking him such hard questions.”

  Celia brushed her shoulder with a light hand. “I can tell you this—it’s not just you. That I know of, he rarely talks about her to anyone.”

  “You mean, at least I’m not alone?”

  Celia looked sheepish. “Yeah. And I can tell you what I know….”

  “Oh, please. Yes.”

  “Well…” Celia kicked off her flats, tucked her legs to the side and braced an elbow on the back of the sofa. “Aaron says they got married in college.”

  “They met there?”

  “Uh-huh. At Princeton. He was studying finance on full scholarship. She was in humanities—English Lit, something like that. They both got their degrees. And he went into the casino business. I don’t think she worked. The marriage lasted for five years or so. Then Belinda got pregnant with Ashlyn—and then the marriage broke up. He left her and he also gave her full custody of Ashlyn.”

  Cleo let out a hard breath. “You’re not serious. He wouldn’t do that—not the way he feels about his family, not the way he is with Ashlyn now.”

  Celia shrugged. “But he did do that. I remember when Ashlyn first came here to live with him. He never saw that little girl until Belinda’s parents contacted him to tell him that his ex-wife had died.”

  “It seems…completely unlike him. He’s tough and he can be scary, but I understood that first day I met him that to him family is everything. His child is everything. You even said so yourself.” And Cleo was hungry for any information she could get. “How did Belinda die?”

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  “He said it was ‘sudden.’”

  “It was. She had a stroke. One of those freak things you’d never imagine could happen to someone that young. She and Ashlyn were at Belinda’s parents’ house in upstate New York. Belinda told her mother she had a headache. She went to lie down—and never got back up again. Her mother went to check on her and found her dead.”

  “How awful…”

  Celia touched her shoulder again. “It is very new between you and Fletcher. And he’s been hurt. He’s a guarded man—just like Aaron was when he and I got together. Fletcher never knew his father. He loves his stepfather, but Grant didn’t come along until later. I think Fletcher and his mother had a tough time there for a while.”

  “Grant. That’s his stepfather’s name?”

  “Yeah. Grant Holland. He’s a great guy. Truly. So Fletcher did get at least half of a decent childhood. But then there was Belinda. And whatever went wrong there, I’d guess the wounds go deep.”

  “I have to say I think you’re right.”

  “But, Cleo…”

  “What?”

  Celia’s hazel eyes twinkled. “I think it’s all work-able—for the two of you.”

  “Oh, God. Not really. Not in any permanent way. He’s just not the kind for that.”

  “Oh, yes he is. With the right woman, a woman like you…”

  Cleo reminded herself not to float too far up in the clouds. She teased, “And you know this how?”

  “Intuition.”

  “Oh. Well.”

  “Don’t you dare scoff at intuition.”

  “I’m not scoffing. It’s only, well, I’m hardly daring to believe the way this is going. The other day, when it started with us, I was absolutely certain Fletcher and I couldn’t last five minutes.”

  “Yeah. You made your doubts painfully clear at lunch.”

  “Two big glasses of Chenin Blanc will do that to a girl.”

  “Oh, so now you say it was the wine….”

  “Well, without it, you and Jane and Jilly would never know all my deepest secrets.”

  “Then here’s to white wine—and serendipity. You shared your feelings about Fletcher and then you instantly ran into him.”

  “Was that strange or what?”

  “Cleo, life is strange. And miracles do happen. They did for me. One day I realized I was in love with my boss—a guy I’d known all my life, a guy I knew would never look twice at me, what with the glamour girls he always dated. I thought it was hopeless. But look at me now. Happily married to the very man I was certain would never love me in return—and with two gorgeous kids, to boot.”

  “Oh, Celia, it’s all happening so fast, you know? Here it is, three days later, and I’m finding myself hoping the craziest thing….”

  “Tell,” Celia commanded.

  “It’s too wild.”

  “Tell me anyway. I can take it.”

  “Well, okay, then. I’m starting to dare to imagine what it might be like if Fletcher and I had a lifetime.” A nervous laugh escaped her. “Is that insane or what?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “Well, it’s nice that you sound so sure.”

  “I am sure. I am absolutely positive. I am a total romantic and darn proud of it. And you know what? I’m going to lay it right out here.”

  “Lay what right out here?”

  “The truth as I see it.”

  “And that would be…?”

  “Cleo, what I think we’ve got here is love.”

  Chapter Ten

  Love.

  Could it be?

  Though Celia’s enthusiasm was contagious, Cleo thought it was a little too early to be calling what she felt for Fletcher love. She wouldn’t put labels on it. No. Not yet.

  She’d just…go with it. See where this thing between them took her. He wasn’t the man she saw herself building a life with—and yet, there was no way she could turn her back on the power of what she felt for him.

  So she decided to enjoy herself, day-to-day.

  For a woman like Cleo, who liked to know where she was going and how long it would take to get there, keeping it open-ended was a whole new approach. But she did it anyway. With enthusiasm.

  She spent every spare moment at Fletcher�
��s side and every night in his bed. Within a week she’d moved half her wardrobe over to his place. It was just easier, she reasoned, to use his penthouse as home base. They both had demanding jobs and there were only so many hours in a day. If she kept her things at his place, she didn’t end up wasting precious time going back and forth to her house after work and in the early morning.

  He gave her half of his huge walk-in closet and dressing room: endless hanger space, two sides of the big central chest of drawers and all she needed of the slanted cedar shelves built especially for shoes.

  “Bring it all over,” he suggested. “I’ve got plenty of room. And if it keeps you here with us longer, it works for me.”

  Us.

  He meant Ashlyn, too. The three of them just naturally fell into a routine. Every morning they shared breakfast in the penthouse kitchen, then Cleo would take Ashlyn down to KinderWay. On the nights when Cleo and Fletcher didn’t go out, they would all three have dinner together.

  It was working out beautifully, Cleo thought. She was actually happy just taking it day-to-day. Fletcher and Ashlyn seemed happy, too.

  No, Cleo didn’t really believe that it would last forever. But while it did, well, she was certainly having the best time of her life.

  The only faint shadow on her happiness was the mystery of the lost Belinda. Cleo still wanted to know what had happened in his marriage, what had gone so wrong that he had not only put his wife behind him, but also, for three years, his child.

  She didn’t raise the subject, though. Eventually, she was sure, if they stayed together long enough, they would get around to it again.

  On Friday morning—a week and a day after she and Fletcher became lovers—as Cleo and Ashlyn walked along the hotel hallways headed for KinderWay, Ashlyn tugged on Cleo’s hand. Cleo smiled down at her.

  Ashlyn didn’t smile back—but then, she rarely smiled. She said in an easy, conversational tone, “My mommy was tall, like you, Cleo. And so pretty. She died.” Cleo slowed her steps a little as Ashlyn frowned, considering. “I don’t remember her very well. I think she was nice. But until Daddy came to get me, I mostly stayed with Grandma and Grandpa.”

  Iron-lace benches with seats lushly padded in red and gold were spaced at intervals along the hallway. “Come on,” Cleo said. “Let’s sit down.”

  Ashlyn hung back. “But we have to go to my school.”

  “Just for a moment or two.” She led the child to the nearest bench.

  Ashlyn obediently climbed up and sat. “Okay.” She waited until Cleo was seated, too, then folded her hands in her lap. “We’re sitting.”

  Cleo looked at the sweet upturned face of Fletcher’s child and felt distinctly devious. Trying to get his daughter to tell her the things Fletcher hadn’t said himself…

  How low was that?

  But then again, maybe this was a subject Ashlyn needed to explore. She asked gently, “Do you want to talk about your mother?”

  Ashlyn wrinkled up her pert nose. “Well, no. I mostly want to go to my school right now.”

  So much for Ashlyn’s burning need to confide. “You know what?” said Cleo. “You’re right. We should get to school.”

  “O-kay.” Ashlyn jumped eagerly to her feet. “Let’s go.” She reached for Cleo’s hand again and they proceeded down the hallway toward the bank of French doors that led outside and to KinderWay. A few steps along, she looked up again. “Cleo?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Where’s your mommy?”

  “She died, too, but it was after I was all grown up.”

  “Do you miss her?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “What about your daddy?”

  “He’s still alive. I don’t see him very often, though.”

  “Tell him to come to my house. I’ll read him a story. He’ll like that.”

  Cleo pushed open the door and they went through into the misty, cool February morning. “We’ll see.”

  That night in bed, after sweet, slow lovemaking, Cleo told Fletcher what Ashlyn had said about Belinda.

  She felt the movement of his shoulder as he shrugged. “They’re good people, Belinda’s folks. And they dote on Ashlyn. She went back for long visits twice last year. And she’ll stay with them again this spring for a week or so.”

  “Stay with them where?”

  “Bridgewater, New Jersey. It’s about twenty miles north of Princeton. Belinda grew up there—and she moved back when we separated.”

  “But I hadn’t realized Ashlyn lived with her grandparents while Belinda was alive. I thought—”

  “Cleo, it’s not a huge mystery. She was a single mother and her parents looked after Ashlyn so she could work.”

  “Belinda worked?”

  Fletcher canted up on an elbow and looked down at her. “What? That surprises you? You work.”

  “Well, Celia mentioned that she didn’t think Belinda had a job while you were married….”

  The recessed lights in the bedroom were turned low, casting his face into shadow. Still, she couldn’t miss the flash of his white teeth as he grinned. “Celia just happened to mention that, huh?”

  “Okay, I asked. And yes, I’m curious about what went wrong between you and Belinda.”

  He touched her cheek, traced the line of her hair where it fell against the side of her throat. “What do you want to know?” He sounded—what?—resigned maybe.

  Still, her heart lifted. Whatever his attitude, he was willing to talk. “Oh, only everything…” She laid her palm against his warm chest and felt the low chuckle as it rumbled through him.

  “Belinda got a job in some clothing store, I think. She left Ashlyn with her mother pretty much round-the-clock. She would stay with them on the weekends.”

  “Belinda was close to her parents, then?”

  “Very—and why don’t you go ahead and fill me in on what Celia just happened to tell you.”

  “Be glad to.” She repeated all that Celia had said.

  When she was done, he was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. “Yeah. Belinda died of a stroke. It was a complete shock to everyone….”

  She laid her hand on the side of his face. “Fletcher?”

  He bent close enough to kiss the tip of her nose. “Why do I sense more questions coming?”

  “Maybe because you’re a very smart man.”

  There was a moment. She had a feeling he would tell her that they’d talked of this enough. But then he said, “All right. Fire away.”

  She did exactly that. “What happened…between you two? Why did you end up divorced?”

  He caught her wrist, gently opened her fingers and placed a warm kiss in the heart of her palm. Then he pressed her hand to his chest again. “Belinda hated Atlantic City. She didn’t like the gaming industry and she missed her hometown. And I was working killing hours—even more so than now, if that’s possible—trying to establish myself and move up. She felt…deserted by me, I guess you could say. I didn’t understand why she couldn’t try harder to fit into my world. And it really got to me that she would resent my working hard when, in the end, I was working for us, for our future.

  “By the last year we were married, she was spending more time in Bridgewater than with me. She told me she was pregnant and that she wanted a divorce in pretty much the same sentence. She also wanted full custody. I gave her everything she asked for—alimony and child support and sole custody of the baby. All of it. I was bitter. I felt she hadn’t tried hard enough to make things work. I threw money at her and told myself I was glad to be rid of her.”

  “But…what about Ashlyn?”

  “You want the hard truth?”

  “Please.”

  “I didn’t think a whole lot about her. My accountant sent the money and I went on with my climb up the gaming-business ladder—and you don’t approve, do you? I can see it in the way you’re pointing your chin at me.”

  “No, Fletcher. I don’t approve.”

  “Neither do I. Now. But the ugly truth i
s, until Belinda died and I met Ashlyn for the first time, she just wasn’t real to me.”

  “How sad—for her. And for you.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “But I’m glad that at least you and your daughter finally…found each other. And that you have a good relationship with Belinda’s parents. That’s important, I think, for her to know her mother’s side of the family.”

  “I think so, too. Any more questions?”

  “Not right at the moment.”

  “Don’t hesitate. Anytime you’re the least bit curious, ask away.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry. I definitely will.” As she looked up through the shadows into his pale eyes, she felt she knew enough now about what had ended his marriage to Belinda that this particular part of Fletcher’s past wouldn’t nag at her mind so much. “And thank you.”

  “For…?”

  “Helping me to understand.”

  “I live to serve.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Cleo?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Kiss me.”

  “Great idea.” She smiled and lifted her mouth to his.

  Friday, she and Fletcher planned to have lunch at Club Rouge, but he called at the last minute to say his meeting was running late.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, his voice low and intimate, causing shivers to skitter along her skin. “Tonight…”

  Cleo settled for a sandwich at one of the sidewalk cafés along the indoor boulevard between the casino and Hotel Impresario. She’d just placed her order for a BLT and a large iced tea when a feminine voice said, “Cleo Bliss. It’s been a while.”

  She looked up. “Andrea. How are you?”

  “Oh, you know…” The showgirl slid into the seat across from her. “Workin’. I’ve got a featured part in Cancan du Bal.”

  “Hey. That’s good news, huh?”

  “I’m doing okay.” The waitress trotted back over bearing a menu. Andrea waved it away. “Brush-up rehearsal in ten minutes. You know how it goes….”

  “I remember. Yes.”

  Andrea flipped a swatch of thick dark hair back over her shoulder and recrossed her long denim-clad legs. Cleo had done two shows with Andrea, a rock revue over at the Luxor and a rip-off of Cats at one of the smaller resorts. They’d always gotten along well enough, though they’d never been what you’d call friends.