Tempting Faith (Indigo Love Spectrum) (7 page)

The tense agony of waiting left him rigid enough to snap, but then the glass door swung open, and Faith entered the deli.

Zander sat up straighter.

She seemed to move in slow motion, which gave him the time to take in everything about her.

She looked taller, but that might have been a trick of her shoes, black pumps with ankle straps that drew his eye immediately to her legs. A slim-fitting black skirt hugged her hips and complemented her white blouse, which was buttoned low enough to instantly make his mouth water. She removed her black sunglasses, a pair of sensible plain RayBans, and slipped them into her oversized handbag. With a flip of her shoulder-length hair, which she now wore straight, she zeroed in on him, her dark eyes narrowing.

Zander’s heart pulsed in one hard, painful beat, and a low moan escaped him. Meeting her at Krasco’s was agony enough without seeing that the pretty cheerleader he couldn’t forget had grown into an impossibly beautiful woman.

She slowed a step when he stood. He opened his mouth to greet her, but no sound came out. “Hello” didn’t seem to be adequate, not after ten years, and certainly not considering the conditions under which they had separated.

Faith took the initiative. “Mr.
Baron
,” she said pointedly.

She plopped her bag on the booth seat and slid in beside it. After placing a slim, stylish microcassette recorder on the table, she laced her fingers and studied Zander.

Her knuckles whitened under the effort it took to keep her hands from trembling. She fought the urge to chew a corner of her lower lip, one of her most obvious signs of nerves. She had so many things to say to him, but she dared not open her mouth until she was sure she could do so without screaming, crying or kissing him.

“Can I get you something to drink, or—”

The appearance of the waitress startled both Zander and Faith, and their sudden jumps in turn alarmed the waitress, who leaned heavily against the table behind her, clutching her order pad to her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed nervously. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You should be scared,” Faith said, keeping her eyes fixed on Zander. “It’s not every day you get to serve a dead person.”

“Uh, could I get a fresh pot of coffee, black,” Zander requested hastily. “And a three-egg white omelet, no salt, no oil, with spinach. Fresh spinach, not frozen.” He turned back to Faith. “Would you like something?”

“No,” Faith said, the lone syllable as friendly and warm as the snap of a crocodile’s jaws.

Zander swallowed hard. “Thanks,” he said to the waitress. “I think we’re set.”

“I’ll be back in a few with your order,” she said brightly.

She started off, but turned back twice to peer at Zander before disappearing behind the swinging door to the kitchen.

“I think she recognized me,” Zander said quietly.

“That makes two of us then,” Faith responded. “Egg white omelets? No salt or oil? You’re all kinds of California now, aren’t you? It couldn’t have been easy giving up Red Irv’s ‘psghetti and patabas.’”

He loudly cleared his throat. “The coffee’s good here. You—”

“The coffee at Red Irv’s was good, too,” Faith said stubbornly. “He still talks about you, you know. Every time I go home for Christmas or Thanksgiving, the two of us sit in the diner and talk about you. My old dance teacher Miss Lorraine still talks about you, and so does Art Brody.”

“I was his best grease jockey,” Zander said. “And I worked cheap.”

“I’m not the only one you left, Alex,” Faith said. “I’m not the only one who missed you.”

Zander grimaced. He had no right to expect her to make this meeting easy, but he had hoped that she wouldn’t make it so hard, either.

“You hated Booger Hollow as much as I did, so don’t—”

“Back then, yes!” Faith said. “I was a kid itching to get out into the world I saw on MTV! But guess what, Alex? I’m not a kid now. And every time I go to Booger Hollow, I’m going home. My parents are there. The dance studio I loved is there. The guidance counselor at Lincoln High invited me to speak on careers for writers two years ago, when I was still at the
L.A. Times
.” Unshed tears strained her voice as she quietly added, “All my memories of you are there, and that makes Booger Hollow very special to me.”

Zander plucked a napkin from the container resting against the leather-covered wall, and he mopped his damp brow.

Faith watched his every move. She had noticed the subtle changes in his appearance at the press conference. His lower teeth were no longer slightly crowded. His nose had been broken twice in Dorothy, but it appeared to have been rebroken and properly set to remove the tiny bump he’d once had. His hair was much lighter, brightening his face and softening the intensity of his gaze. The old scar near his right eye was virtually undetectable.

The one thing he hadn’t been able to alter, the one thing that had given him away, remained achingly the same. His eyes, as vivid and captivating as the last time she’d looked into them, had been left unchanged, a blessing for which she offered a silent prayer of thanks.

“Look,” she began, refocusing her attention, “I know who you are, and—”

“That makes one of us then,” he interrupted.

“Please. Drop that phony accent. It’s not you.”

“My accent isn’t fake.” He leaned across the table. Lowering his voice, he seamlessly reverted to his native West Virginia dialect. “Zander Baron was born in Australia. He was left an orphan when his parents were killed in a motorcar accident. Young Zander was taken and raised by an American uncle in Wyoming, where he learned to ride horses and rope cattle and—”

Her hands clenched into fists, Faith cut him off. “I’ve read your biography. I don’t need that fiction recited to me.”

“What do you want from me, Faith? Money?”

“Are you dumb?” she asked, incredulous at the suggestion.

“Then what are we here for?”

“A damn explanation!”

“For what?” he hissed.

She slammed her palms on the tabletop. “For everything! For leaving, to start with! For letting everyone believe that you were dead!”

“Making a scene here will hurt your career far more than mine, Faith, so calm down,” he warned. “Lower your voice and I’ll answer your questions, if I can.”

Her appearance had changed, but she was still the straightforward, stand-up Faith he had known in another life.

“Did you ever think of me?” she blurted, frustrated with herself for losing her cool and exposing a wound that had never quite healed.

“Yes,” he answered immediately.

She dropped her eyes and blinked back tears of relief that threatened to give away how much of her heart she had invested in his response. She lightly cleared her throat. “Zander Baron is a puzzle wrapped around a secret, but I’ve pieced most of it together,” she said. “I know enough about Olivia Baxter to recognize her fingerprints all over your transformation. The cosmetic work must have been easy, but it’s a lot harder to weave the facts of your life into the fabric of your fictional one. She didn’t hide the seams well enough.”

“Really? Enlighten me.”

She leaned back, inadvertently giving Zander an inviting view of her décolletage. “Olivia has a knack for finding talent for her son to represent. Her boys aren’t just easy on the eyes. Most of them can actually act, too. She collects stars the way other people stumble upon good luck pennies, only she
makes
her stars what they become.”

“She’s a good publicist,” Zander said. “You make it sound like it’s a crime.”

“If my research is at all accurate—and it is—here’s what happened,” Faith went on. “You left West Virginia for whatever reason and came out West. Olivia Baxter saw you at some point. I can’t begin to guess where, but the when is a bit easier. You had surgery to correct your nose and at least one procedure to straighten your chompers. Then there was the removal of the scar from your face, but the coaching probably took the most time. Dialects, foreign languages, deportment, etiquette and acting. Have I missed any?”

“No,” he said, grudgingly impressed. “Do continue.”

“Once you were remodeled, buffed and polished, Brent sent you out, and you were cast in
Burn
as part of a ten-million dollar deal. It’s been skyward and onward since. If
Reunion
performs as well as forecasted at the box office, chances are pretty good that you’ll become the newest member of the twenty-million-a-movie club. Not bad for the bad boy of Raleigh County. From mountain boy to superstar in…five years?”

He tapped the table with his knuckle. “Just about to the day. You’re a good researcher, Faith.”

“I’m surprised that Brent has gone along with this deceit. As agents go, he’s pretty decent. He’s got a great reputation for genuinely caring about his clients and for having a conscience. I think Olivia relied on that to give substance to the crap she’s been peddling about you.”

“Before we go any further, let’s get one thing straight,” he said sternly. “Brent is my best friend. He’s my only friend. It was never my intention to deceive…to misdirect anyone in any way.”

“Then let me tell the truth about who you are. It’s going to come out anyway.”

“Are you threatening me?

“I’m warning you.” She sat forward, reaching for his hand, but then withdrawing her own quickly. “I’ve been assigned to write a story on Zander Baron. It would make the cover if…if I wrote it in full. It would be my biggest cover story, and given the public interest in you, it would garner a great deal of publicity. For both of us.”

The waitress returned and set Zander’s meal before him, but he no longer had any taste for what little taste the omelet had. “Do you really hate me that much?”

She winced. Her nostrils twitched, another telltale sign that tears were close. “This is the nature of the business, Alex,” she said softly.

He shoved his plate aside. “Don’t call me that.”

“That’s your name.”

“Not anymore. It’s all legal. I can even show you a driver’s license to prove it.”

“I know,” Faith said. “It was issued in Cheyenne, Wyoming, five years ago.”

“How long have you been planning this grand exposé?” he asked.

“That first close-up in
Burn…
” She shook her head and smiled wistfully. “I felt like I was having a heart attack. I knew it was you. I asked my editor to let me cover your
Reunion
press conference. I wanted to see you.”

“I’ve wanted to see you too, Faith. You have to believe that. My memories of you were the only things that kept me going at times when—”

“Zander Baron has no memories of me,” Faith cut in, her tone jagged. “Don’t you dare pretend that you’re the same person I knew back home.”

“Home,” he repeated with a bitter laugh. “Home to you was hell for me, and you know it.”

“Is that why you ran?” Her voice broke. “Is that why you left me?”

He rested his elbows on the table and covered his face with his hands for a moment. “I didn’t—” He sighed sharply and tried to explain. “I saw a chance to start over that night, and I took it.”

“What about all the days and nights after that, when you could have called or written me just to let me know you were still alive?” She couldn’t stop her tears this time, and she angrily swiped them away. “Did you even know when your mom died? You hadn’t been gone two years when she was rushed to the medical center with her head split open—”

“I was living on a lettuce farm, sleeping in a bunk with twenty other guys,” he said through gritted teeth. “I was in no position to help anyone else, especially a woman whose idea of quality childcare was to strap me to my bed so she could hang out at Buzzy’s Tavern. Don’t criticize my choices until you have all the facts. It was easy to leave Dorothy, but it killed me to leave you.” He reached forward to brush away her tears. “I never wanted to leave
you
.”

She pushed his hand away from her face, but he took hers and held onto it. “But you did! You left me behind. I wanted out of Booger Hollow just as much as you did back then, but I wasn’t willing to kill to do it!”

“I was willing to die,” Zander insisted. “Not kill.”

“You got rid of Alex Brannon just the same, though, didn’t you? You must have thought you’d hit the lottery when you met Olivia Baxter. You had your very own fairy godmother to turn you into a whole new person.”

“I never begrudged you your rich parents,” he said. “Don’t begrudge me Olivia Baxter.”

“My ‘rich’ parents cut me off when I decided to go to New York University instead of the University of West Virginia,” Faith said. “They wanted me to go to school in state and marry Jefferson Winslow and be his dutiful wife, raising our kids in Dorothy and living in the biggest house while Jefferson took over the running of the coal company.”

“I put myself through school,” she told him. “I did what you did, Alex. I
worked
. There were times I was so tired, I couldn’t work up the strength to complain about how tired I was. When I graduated, I worked my ass off at regional newspapers until I had enough clips to impress an
L.A. Times
recruiter I met at a job fair. I worked there for six months, and two years ago, I got a job at
Personality!
I’ve worked hard and paid quite a few dues, but the only way I’ll truly be able to write my own ticket is to break a story with serious weight. Loving Alexander Brannon is in my past. Exposing Zander Baron could be the key to my future.”

Pulling her hand from his, Faith grabbed her recorder and handbag and slipped out of the booth, leaving Zander helplessly watching her walk away.

Faith pushed open the door and stumbled into the sunlit morning, hoping that Alex would come after her. Putting on her RayBans to hide her puffy eyes, she slowed her stride to her car. So many times she had prayed to see him once more, and she had fantasized that she would. But in her fantasies, the meeting had taken place in Heaven or some other otherworldly realm, not in a back booth in one of L.A.’s famed dining establishments.

The location hadn’t mattered, not nearly as much as her reaction to the meeting. Her body had responded to him as if starved for the sensations it had known with him in their youth. Fanning herself with one hand, she leaned back and faced reality—that her exposé might not be as easy as she had hoped it would be.