Flash and Fire (37 page)

“Damn it, Alexander, why do you always insist on reducing everything to such cold, pragmatic terms?”

Traffic was light. He tried not to think about the fact that just her sitting here, so close to him, was arousing him. Damn, he didn’t like being a prisoner like this.

“Because the world’s a cold, pragmatic place, Mandy. You ought to know that.”

No, she didn’t have to know anything of the kind. “But we can still make our piece of it better,” she told him stubbornly.

He glanced at her as they went through a yellow light. How was it that she’d somehow remained uncontaminated by everything around her? It drew him to her, and he struggled to get free.

“You really believe that, don’t you?”

She didn’t like the cynicism she detected in his voice. “I don’t think I could stand it if I didn’t.”

Why was her vulnerability pulling him in like a fish on the line? He tried hard to distance himself. “Maybe we should change your name to Pollyanna.”

Amanda stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the hurt. “Maybe.”

“So, what are you going to do if the case doesn’t go your way,” Pierce asked as he toyed with his after-dinner drink, “and you lose?”

All through dinner, it had been as if they were suddenly two opponents circling one another, sizing each other up. She had no idea what had brought this on. What was wrong tonight?

Stone’s warning suddenly rang in her head. He’d said not to see Pierce because he could potentially use things she said against her. She looked at Pierce suspiciously.

Pierce took a sip and then set his glass down. He could feel her eyes. She was staring at him uncertainly, as if he were a dangerous wild animal.

His eyes held hers. “What?”

“Why do you want to know?” she asked slowly. Was he trying to play with her mind? To psychologically undermine her so that she would walk away from the entire mess?

Lately, he’d been visualizing her on the stand. Visualizing her having to defend herself. If Grimsley’s lawyer was worth his retainer, there would be all sorts of sexual allegations flying through the air. He didn’t want her subjected to that. But he didn’t want to say it. She would probably construe it as a self-serving attempt to discourage her from going through with the lawsuit.

He shrugged. “Curious, that’s all.”

Amanda looked down at her drink. She hadn’t touched it. She’d barely touched her dinner. Amanda had felt the tension humming between them and hadn’t felt much like eating under such conditions.

“I haven’t thought about it.”

“Don’t you think you should? There is a chance you might lose, you know. Maybe the case isn’t worth going on with.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. The words had just come out. He regretted them as soon as he saw the wariness in her eyes. Her expression was tinged with disappointment. But it was too late to say anything.

“I’m well aware that I might lose.” Amanda suddenly felt very cold. “Is that what you’re hoping for?”

His expression grew hard. “I don’t think I have to answer that.”

Maybe she was getting a little paranoid. But she was trying to inch her way across a tightrope and she had no idea if she was heading toward the platform, or just more rope.

She’d started to apologize when someone called out her name.

“Hey, Amanda, look this way!”

She turned and a flash went off, blinding her. She could barely distinguish a man in a violet shirt with slicked-back hair pointing a camera with a telephoto lens at her. “Thanks! Now once more. Can you smile this time?”

Pierce nearly overturned the table as he made a grab for the man. His hair-trigger reflexes surprised the would-be photographer.

Pierce grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him against a wall. “Get out of here.”

Panic washed over the shallow face. Pierce was a good fifty pounds heavier than he was and at least ten years younger.

“Hey, don’t get your back up. A guy’s gotta make a living, you know?” He tried desperately to drum up a feeling of camaraderie. “Looks like you’re resolving the ‘battle of the anchorpersons’ in your own way.” He winked lasciviously at Pierce. “Way to go, Alexander.”

Pierce held him under his neck by his shirt so tightly, the man’s color drained from his face. “Look, bastard, if you don’t get your camera and your slimy self out of here fast, you’re going to have to learn a whole new way to walk.”

People had gathered around them. Amanda felt a knot forming in her stomach.

“Take it easy,” the photographer pleaded. “Don’t blow your cool. Just ‘cause you’ve got what you want doesn’t mean you can’t give a guy a break. I get paid by the picture.”

“You want a break?” Pierce released him. Then he took hold of the camera, popped it open, and pulled out the memory card and snapped it between his fingers. “There, there’s your break. I didn’t smash your camera or you. Count yourself lucky.”

Grumbling, the man hurried away before Pierce changed his mind.

Amanda was on her feet, nausea clawing at her. Everyone was looking at them. The waitress stood a few feet away, her eyes wide.

“I guess this means dinner’s officially over,” Pierce said, taking out his wallet and signaling the waitress. “Check, please.”

Unable to endure the stares, the humiliation, and the overwhelming sense of betrayal any longer, Amanda ran from the table and out of the restaurant.

“Damn!” Pierce threw down a couple of bills, figuring that should cover the meager meal they’d had. He hurried after her. “Amanda, wait.”

Amanda heard him, but she didn’t turn around. She had no idea where she was going. She just wanted to get away. Away from everything.

Pierce caught up to her in the middle of the parking lot. He grabbed her by the arm and jerked her around. Why was she running away from him? He’d just sent that bastard on his way.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?”

Amanda swung around, her eyes blazing. “How did he know we were here?”

Her question stunned him. “I don’t know. Maybe the waitress recognized us, or you. Maybe it was someone at one of the tables and they called in a tip. The guy was obviously from the paparazzi. Those rags pay for tips. Your face is plastered all over those tabloids and the news. How the hell should I know how he got here?”

And then what she was really saying dawned on him.

Fury at her lack of trust lashed at him. He grabbed her shoulders. “You think I called him?”

What else could she think? “You knew where we were going. He was here as if right on cue. And you
obviously have nothing against stalking—you stalked me
yourself, in the beginning.”

In disgust, he released her. Afraid of what he might be capable of, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Amanda exhaled a ragged breath as she dragged her hand through her hair. She’d never been so miserable, so confused before. She wanted to believe him. Yet he kept backing away, changing on her. She didn’t know who he was anymore, and she was beginning to wonder who she was.

“I don’t know what to think anymore.”

He blew out a breath, and for the first time in over a month, longed for a cigarette. And a drink. A real drink, not one of those watered-down cocktails they served in restaurants like this. A mind-numbing, gut-burning real drink. Maybe, just maybe, it could burn away this taste in his mouth.

And blot her from his mind.

“No, apparently not.” He nodded toward his car. “Get in the car,” he ordered gruffly. “I’ll take you home.”

She walked to the car ahead of him. When she got in, she waited until he was seated before she spoke. She hated this turmoil, hated not understanding what was happening between them. Why each time they got close, something went wrong.

“Pierce, I. ..” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t know
what to say.

“Yeah.” He ground out the word as he pulled out of his spot. “Me, too.”

They drove home in silence. Pierce let Amanda out at her door while remaining in the car. His anger was so great right now, he knew he couldn’t trust himself to talk to her. He had to get away.

He peeled out of her driveway, leaving her standing there, watching him.

He never looked back.

It wasn’t the anger at her accusation so much as the hurt that bothered him. He didn’t understand the hurt. Her lack of trust tore at him. Maybe she didn’t have that much to go on, but she should have known that he wouldn’t betray her.

Instinctively, she should have known.

Then again, why?

They were all the same. They all let you down in the end. He knew that. He’d learned that as a kid. What was the big surprise?

Pierce swore at Amanda and at himself all the way home. It didn’t help one goddamn bit.

He was still in love with her.

Chapter Forty

Amanda angrily switched off the news. Pierce’s face, with its own odd mixture of raw sensuality and sincerity, quickly dissolved into nothingness.

Swearing, Amanda wrestled with the tears that were welling up in her eyes, threatening to overflow.

Idiot!

That’s what she was, a hopeless idiot. Why hadn’t she learned with Jeff? How many times did she need to be beaten over the head with a two-by-four before it sank in? If the marines were eternally looking for a few good men, why did she continue to believe that she had an inside track on one?

She turned from the television set and ran her hands over her arms. Her skin felt oddly cold, from the inside out. Restless, she began to pace.

She could cover the den from end to end in a few measured steps. But she didn’t want to take the tension she was feeling out of this room, where Carla and Christopher would see her. More than anything, she didn’t want them to see her crying, and right now she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

She wiped off another trickle with the heel of her hand.

Maybe, if she just let the emotion and the tears flow, she could get them permanently out of her system.

No such luck. Besides, tears and regrets were for the weak. She had time for neither.

Amanda balled her hands up into fists and continued pacing. Continued going nowhere.

She loved him. God help her, after everything was weighed and considered, she still loved the miserable bastard. Talk about being a glutton for punishment, she thought, looking at her reflection in the computer’s monitor.

But whether she loved him or not, it obviously wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between them. That sort of optimism was for romantic movies and insipid greeting cards. Love didn’t conquer all. In the real world, all it had managed to conquer was her.

If she needed any proof of his lack of regard for her, she had it now. Pierce hadn’t bothered to see her since the incident at the restaurant. Nine days. Nine whole days without a call, without a word. Nothing. He had completely cut himself off from her. Just like that.

Maybe her angry accusation had been right on target. Maybe he had called that photographer, tipped him off. Nothing like a little splashy publicity to keep him before the public’s eye.

If he wasn’t guilty as charged, where was he?

It was obvious that she’d been creating rainbows where there weren’t any to be found. He didn’t care about her. It had all been just a trick, a plan to get her to give up her suit. When she’d made it clear to him that she intended to go on with it, he’d dropped his ploy and disappeared from her life.

Left her.

God, it felt awful.

She took a breath, as if that could somehow cocoon
her against what she was feeling. As if it could shield her
from this huge, cavernous hollowness inside.

Amanda clenched her hands, fighting for control over herself. Damn it, she had survived this pain once before, and she could do it again. And this time, she’d remember. Really remember.

She had Christopher and, by God, she was going to have her career. That would be more than enough to fill her days and her nights.

If that meant her bed and her soul remained empty, so be it. She still had more than most people, and it was a sin to ignore that, to mourn over what she didn’t have. Over what she’d never had.

Determined, Amanda opened the door and walked out into the rest of her life.

The next morning, Amanda received a call from Stone. It sounded urgent. It annoyed her that the lawyer had refused to give her any details over the telephone. He’d merely told her to come down to his office as soon as possible—now, if she could. His tone gave her no clue as to whether the news he had to tell her was good or bad. Amanda’s nerves were stretched like a string over the bow of a violin.

She had agreed to come right down.

Nerves hopscotching over one another, she entered the neo-rustic glass and wood two-story structure that housed Stone’s legal practice. It had taken her almost an hour to get here, forty-five minutes longer than usual. A truck had jackknifed on the expressway, turning the short trip into an ordeal.

As if she didn’t already have enough to deal with.

Startled, Amanda caught her breath when she saw her father leaving the outer law offices.

Stone wouldn’t have been attempting to arrange some sort of a reconciliation between her and her father, would he? One that was aborted because she had arrived late? No, that was absurd. It wasn’t in the man’s makeup to play mediator on a personal level. Besides, her father would never allow it.

Henry Foster saw his daughter the moment she entered the building’s foyer. He paused, scrutinizing her for a moment. She’d filled out in the last few years, lost some of her gangly edges. She’d turned out to be a handsome woman, like her mother. But she had tenacity, determination, so unlike the woman he had taken as his wife.

In a perverse way, he took pride in the way Amanda had turned out, even though she’d failed to follow in his footsteps.

Her loss, he mused. She’d find that out in time, if she hadn’t already. His hands were tied if she refused to listen to reason.

“Amanda.” He nodded as she approached.

The best way to deal with this was just to get it over with.

“We just must stop meeting like this, Father.” He stared at her. Amanda tried to remember if she had ever heard her father laugh. Not a single memory materialized. “Humor, Father. Sorry.”