RYAN disconnected the call and contemplated giving in to his body’s immediate demand for sleep. But after eighteen hours and four back-to-back conferences calls tying him to his desk, he couldn’t tolerate another minute within the confines of an office that had gone as stale as the coffee he’d given up on a handful of hours before.
Rubbing the top of his head, he walked into the main hall only half registering the increase in stares and decrease in chatter as he cut past a bank of cubes on his way to the small apartment he kept at the far end of the suite of offices. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was stocked with a few changes of clothing, toiletries and enough nonperishable food to get him through.
Cranking the tap in the shower with one hand, he pulled at his tie with the other. Shower. Shave. New suit.
Sleep could wait until tonight. A call to Claire couldn’t though. She’d stayed with him through all the hours of wrestling this deal back on track. Thoughts of her laughter as haunting as his name on her lips that last morning.
He shouldn’t have left without a goodbye.
His phone sounded with another call from Denis. Toeing off his shoes, he answered, “Damn, you’re relentless, man. Not even ten minutes.”
A somewhat strained laugh was followed by the clearing of Denis’s throat, and instantly Ryan shook off the punch-drunk haze. “What’s going on?”
“You made the papers this morning. I didn’t see it until just now, but you’re not going to like it.”
Steam beckoned from the waiting shower. Ryan let out a heavy breath, stalked into the bathroom and shut it off. “Which paper?”
“All of them.”
“Pick up!”
Another droning ring and Ryan’s knuckles whitened over the phone in his grasp. Briefcase and jacket stuffed under his arm, he tore across the office lobby, ignoring the stares of those who’d recognized him from the morning news.
He’d gone through to voice mail on her cell phone, gotten the run-around from the gallery, was disconnected when he’d tried to get Sally on the line, and now Claire wasn’t answering at home either.
She’d seen the story. No chance she’d missed it. Every network across the country was reporting on Dahlia Dawson’s pregnancy and impending nuptials—both confirmed by her PR manager. Unfortunately no clarification had been made re the groom’s identity, which meant Claire had spent the better part of the day with every reason to believe it was true.
Voice mail again.
Damn it! His gut knotted at the sound of her recorded voice directing him to leave a message.
Immediately he hung up and dialed again, shoving out the lobby doors.
One ring. His car was idling, ready to go.
Another. Stuffing a bill into the valet’s hand, he levered into the driver’s seat and slipped the hands-free device over his ear.
“Hello,” she answered on the third, sounding weary and worn. But after all the unanswered calls, her voice suddenly on the line jolted him like an electric shock.
“Thank God. Claire, it’s not true.”
Jerking the wheel, he cut into traffic as her breath, catching on a sob, cut into him.
“She’s pregnant. I’d heard the rumor. It’s why I met with her. To find out. But the baby isn’t mine.”
God, he needed to be there. Holding her as he explained. And then just holding her. Because he didn’t want to be apart. It shouldn’t have taken something like this to shake the sense loose in his head, but apparently it had. What happened in the past was behind them, and all that mattered was what happened now. How they chose to go forward from here.
But first making sure Claire was okay. That she understood. “I didn’t know about the article. If I’d thought you’d find out like this, I swear I would have told you what I was doing. I just didn’t want—” he broke off with a violent curse. He just hadn’t wanted her to know about the rumor at all. Because he’d known it would hurt her. Scare her.
Possibly devastate her.
“Claire?” She should have said something by now. But maybe there was more to her silence than this rumor. Hell, he knew he had some making up to do. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left without talking to you. I shouldn’t have let this much time pass. Everything just got away from me, but I’m on my way to the airport now.” He’d manage with the deal and the office and everything else. Somehow work around another screwup to the schedule. It didn’t matter. Not like getting to Claire did. “I’ll be there tonight. We’ll talk then. About everything.”
“No.” Again, the soft whisper of her voice screamed at him from the silence that surrounded it.
The already tension-knotted muscles of his neck and shoulders ratcheted tighter, sending a shot of pain straight up to the base of his skull. “What do you mean no?”
The words whipped out of him faster than he could control. More harshly than he’d want her to hear. Almost as if they’d been poised, ready to go. As if, on some level, he’d already anticipated the need to use them.
A shaky breath sounded across the miles and the rest of Ryan’s body tensed, bracing. And all he could think was, Don’t. Don’t do this.
“You don’t need to come.” Then, “You shouldn’t.”
Pulling over to the side of the road, Ryan’s fist pounded against the wheel. His breath grating through his teeth.
Don’t do it!
“This is more than I want, Ryan. More than I can handle.”
“You’re upset. This thing with Dahlia, with the press, it’ll never happen again.” The papers had been following him for years, but until now he’d never had a need to put a stop to it. For Claire he would though.
“Even before Dahlia, we let this go too far. I can’t risk the kind of hurt…”
He knew she was scared. Understood how long it had taken her to come back from the emotional devastation she’d suffered nine years ago. But that wasn’t what they were talking about. What they were doing together, this relationship still had boundaries, even if they’d slipped over the past days. They both still understood the limits were there. All she had to do was take a step back and—
“I won’t risk it, Ryan.”
A quiet calm sank into the center of his chest, drowning out the cold panic that had all but overtaken him mere moments ago. Staring out at the L.A. smog and congestion, he blew out a long breath. “So what now then?”
As if he didn’t know.
“We cut our losses.” The fragile quality of her voice had been replaced by an impersonal clip. She was trying to turn it into business. “Let the lawyers wrap up the final asset division. And move on with our lives the way we were always supposed to.”
“And that’s it?”
“No.” He could hear her hesitation, but knew better than to think she’d changed her mind. Knew from experience. “Thank you for letting me know about Dahlia… And, I’m sorry.”
Disgusted, Ryan pulled the phone extension from his ear and tossed it to the empty seat beside him. He didn’t need to ask. She was sorry because the baby wasn’t his.
Pulling back into traffic, he headed for the turnoff.
Claire hadn’t changed at all. Nothing had. She didn’t like the way something was going and shut him out. No chance to argue. No chance to make his case.
But he’d be damned if he’d let things end the same, with another polite phone call and the entire country between them. To hell with that.