“I-I know how you must feel…finding out the way you did…about our first baby. You must think me truly awful…”

“No! You don’t know how I feel! You couldn’t possibly imagine.”

For a moment his hard face was expressionless. Then he shook his head. “You don’t understand me at all.”

“I know I didn’t stand up for you the way you wanted me to when my stepfather brought charges against you. You thought I went along with him, but I didn’t. I loved you. I still do.”

“Don’t use that four-letter word. You say it too easily. All it’s ever been for me is a one-way ticket to hell.”

“Zach, I was sixteen…pregnant…terrified…of him and of the accusations, of all the ugliness. I was so confused. Hysterical, really.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he said in a weary, defeated tone.

But it did matter to her, fiercely. She’d thought she’d learned to live with her regrets, then he’d come back into her life and made her love him again. Being with him right now, when he was so distant, knowing that he was shutting her out forever, made her want to confess everything, to finally share all the regrets she’d carried alone for so long.

She’d organized a funeral for their first baby, had attended it by herself in the rain. Her mother, who would have come, had been too ill to leave Bonne Terre. Gram had been caring for Summer’s mother, and Tuck had been too young to be of any comfort. Summer had stayed in the cemetery until she’d been drenched, until the last clod of dirt had been thrown, until a compassionate grave digger had plucked a single white rose from the funeral wreath she’d bought and handed the dripping blossom to her.

“Press this in that Bible you be carrin’, cher. And go home. You can’t do any good here. The little one, she’s in heaven now.”

Summer had placed angels on the grave.

Somehow she swallowed her tears when she came back to the present. “I went to Houston when I was nearly five months along. I tried to talk to you, to find you, but you wouldn’t see me.”

“Because I knew you were manipulating me.”

“But I tried to tell you about the baby. I really tried.”

“Not hard enough apparently. You could have told somebody else… My uncle, maybe. He would have gotten the message to me. But you didn’t.”

“I was out of money. I wasn’t feeling so well. I-I thought it was no use, so I went back to New Orleans. I-I lost the baby the next week. I was all alone. I wanted you so desperately. I never wanted you with me more.”

A muscle in his carved cheek jerked savagely, but when he spoke, his voice was low, contemptuous.

“You didn’t do anything deliberate to bring about that unhappy event, did you?”

“What?” His words hit her like a blow. Once again his face swirled in blackness. If she’d been standing, she would have fallen. Only with the greatest effort did she manage to catch her breath.

“No.” The single word was a prayer asking him to believe her. The single tear that traced down her cheek spoke the truth.

Not that he could see the truth, blinded as he was by his own fury and sense of betrayal.

“You damn sure know how to deliver a line.” His low voice was hoarse. “I’ll give you that. You need to remember that little trick for the stage, sweetheart. It was very effective.”

“Okay. I understand,” she whispered. “You’ll never trust me again. Or forgive me.”

“You’ve got that right. The sooner we finish this conversation, the sooner we can get on with our separate lives. I said I’d help you with the baby, and I will. You don’t look well. I want you to take better care of yourself this time. Cut back on your schedule. You can’t possibly do eight shows a week. I’ll pay for the best doctors…anything you need. And I want to be there when you deliver. Not for your sake, but for the baby’s.”

She nodded, feeling crushed at his efficient tone.

“I love you,” she murmured. “I’ll always love you.”

“Then I’m sorry for you because it’s over between us. I consider myself a stupid fool for getting involved with you again. Usually I’m smart enough to learn from my mistakes. Nick tried to warn me you were nuclear. He was right.”

“I’m so sorry I’ve caused you so much pain…”

“Sorry never cuts it, does it?”

Ravaged, she stood up. Then turning from him, she fled.

Outside, the sunlight in the trees was as dull as old pewter, and she was deaf to her favorite song playing on her car radio.

She didn’t want to go back to New York and work onstage, work with people. She wanted to curl up somewhere in a dark room and cry.

Then she remembered Gram’s tin of chocolate-chip cookies on the shelf above her fridge. She would go back to Gram’s and confide in her. Her grandmother would take Summer in her arms as she had after Summer had lost Zach, her mother and her little baby girl, and, for a brief spell, she’d feel better. Then she’d stuff herself on her grandmother’s cookies until she fell asleep.

Slowly, she’d gather enough courage to go through the motions of living. She’d pack her suitcase and set her alarm. Tomorrow she’d dress and drive to the airport. Then she’d return to her lonely apartment and get back in her old routine and try to forget Zach all over again.

It wouldn’t be possible, but she’d try just the same.


* * *

The memory of her soft, pale face with those unshed tears tore at him.

“I can’t do this. Take over for me,” Zach growled as he slammed his clipboard down on a table inside the casino.

Roberto and his men watched silently as Zach stalked past them, the rows of slot machines and then the gaming tables. Outside, the air was thick and oppressive with the scent of rain. He looked up and saw threatening black clouds moving in fast. A fierce gust ripped across the bayou.

Perfect weather, he thought, as the first raindrop pelted him.

No sooner had he slammed the door of his Mercedes, started the engine and roared out of the parking lot, than it started pouring. Not that the rain kept him from whipping violently across the narrow bridge and skidding onto the main road. A truck honked wildly. Brakes squealed as it surrendered right-of-way.

Zach took his foot off the accelerator. No use killing some innocent motorist. Summer damn sure wasn’t worth it.

It was going to take a long time for his love, or rather the illusion of who he’d believed she was, to die again.

Maybe forever.

She’d looked so damn pretty in that soft pink dress that had clung to her slim body, and so desperately forlorn with those damp blue eyes that had shed that single spectacular tear at exactly the right moment. She’d shredded his heart all over again. It would probably thrill her to know she’d nearly had him believing what he saw and felt instead of what he knew to be true.

His gut had clenched, and his heart had thudded violently. He’d wanted to grab her, pull her close, soothe and console her, kiss that tearstained cheek and those beautiful, pouting lips…just one last time. He’d wanted it so much he’d almost lost control.

Then he’d remembered she was an actress, who’d dressed to entice him, who’d played her role perfectly despite her vows never to act when she was with him.

He remembered all her lies of omission about the baby. What part of their relationship had ever been true? What was he to her? Another circus act in the three-ring show she put on for her adoring fans? Did she need a man in her life to complete the picture of her as America’s number-one sweetheart? Acting was a highly competitive career. What sin wouldn’t she commit to stay on top?

He thought of all the magazine-cover stories he’d seen about actresses with their adoring babies and husbands. Were any of those heartwarming stories truthful? Weren’t they all just fodder for fools like him, who, deep down, wanted to believe the dream?

Had anything she’d said today been real?

Whether it was or not, she’d damn sure shattered his heart and sent him to hell and back all over again.

Twelve

One week later

Zach moved silently through the long shadows of the tall spreading oaks near Viola’s house, stepping past Silas, who looked like a black-and-white fur ball as he napped under the pink blossoms of his favorite crape myrtle bush.

The dazzling pink flowers blurred, and suddenly Zach saw Summer instead of the worthless feline: Summer with her heart in her eyes, Summer looking lovely and too sexy for words in that ridiculous pink confection of a dress.

Damn her. As the image dissolved, he experienced burning, agonizing loss.

Frowning, he approached Viola’s screen door warily.

Why was he even here? He had a plane to catch. It wasn’t as if he had to show up at her request. Hell, these days he ignored most invitations, and he had every reason to ignore Viola’s. Why was he putting himself through this?

Because she’d sounded so fragile when she’d summoned him. Because he genuinely liked her. Because she was family now, in spite of everything Summer had done. Viola would be his son’s great-grandmother. Because she was hurting nearly as much as he was that the dream wouldn’t come true.

Viola’s bossy cat trotted toward the screen door and rubbed his tail arrogantly against Zach’s jeans. Then he sank a claw into the screen as he waited to be let in.

Viola welcomed them both. Silas, who sprang inside first, she gave a can of tuna. Zach, she gave a plate of chocolate-chip cookies and a glass of iced tea that she’d flavored with mint from her garden.

He didn’t have time for tea or cookies, but he was loath to say so. Viola had a strange power over him.

When he saw the empty shelves and all the boxes stacked against the walls in every room, in an effort to make polite conversation, he asked when she planned to move to her new condo.