Hidden in the Heart Page 3

  A wan smile crossed her face. “A little hypocritical coming from you, Kev.”

  “What?” His innocent expression sent a chill down her spine.

  Michelle rubbed her arms and looked away.

  “Did you get hold of Felicity?” He put his phone down and glanced at his watch again. “I can’t have the kids hanging around this weekend. Too much going on.” There was no sign of regret in his eyes as he talked of his estranged wife and children, only a keen glint of what the future now held.

  Michelle nodded, checking the calendar. “I talked to her this afternoon. The kids were disappointed. I told them you’d make it up to them, so you’d better come up with something pretty cool. Felicity sends you her best regards.”

  “I’m sure she does.” He rose and pushed up the knot of his tie. “I should get going. Sorry, but dinner won’t work tonight. I ran into John Fortin earlier today and we’re going to meet for drinks. I’ve promised him an exclusive. Make sure to sit him at a good table on Saturday. Come by later?”

  Michelle swiveled her chair to face the window. The Manhattan skyline projected a yellow glow against the dark night. Large flakes of snow spiraled downward, a hint that the predicted winter storm might be on its way. She watched a few lights flicker off in the building opposite theirs.

  “I think I’ll stay home tonight, Kev. I want to run through the menu for Saturday and do a few other things.”

  Like ignore the fact that Christmas was just around the corner.

  She swung round to face him and smiled at his look of chagrin. “You should try to get an early night for a change. You’re going to need all the rest you can get over the next few months. We’ll start working on your speech in the morning.”

  Kevin grinned as he pulled on his coat, but his face clouded over as he moved toward her. “Look, since I’m going to be running now…we should probably cancel our cruise over New Year’s. I’ve been thinking maybe I should spend more time with the kids, you know…”

  “I see.” Michelle’s heart thudded against her chest. The moment she’d heard of Whiting’s situation, she’d been expecting this, but still, after two years with Kevin, it stung.

  “Hey.” Kevin leaned in, placing his hands on the arms of her chair, his eyes piercing. “Don’t give me that look. You know as well as I do how this has to go down. Let me handle things with Felicity. Once I’m elected, once the divorce is final, everything will be different.”

  Michelle managed a nod and forced herself to respond when his lips met hers. His kiss grew more demanding and for a moment she gave in to the need to be held. Needed. But probably not loved.

  She pushed him off and straightened her blouse. “You better go, Kev. Don’t want to keep Joe waiting. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “John.”

  “What?” Michelle lifted her chin and caught a flash of anger in his eyes.

  “It’s John. From The Post. Whatever you do, don’t get it wrong in front of him.” He turned on the heel of his shiny black loafers and stalked out of her office.

  Michelle shook her head, moving her chair around to face the painting on the wall above the long bookcase. She studied the image of the lake, forgotten feelings stretching, daring to emerge from exile.

  Life had been simple once. Life had been fun.

  Life had been good.

  Now it was just complicated.

  “Knock, knock. Where’s the man of the hour?” Belinda Cassidy sauntered in, her olive skin glowing from the latest scrub she’d no doubt just had at Clarins. She wore her usual thousand-watt smile, and Michelle’s Emilio Pucci blouse.

  Michelle scowled. “You just missed him. And I thought you were going to quit stealing my clothes. We’re not in college anymore. You can afford your own.”

  Her old friend slipped out of her mink coat, lowered herself into the chair Kevin had vacated and swatted the air, diamonds on her fingers sparkling. “You left it in the closet when you spent Thanksgiving with us. I couldn’t bear to part with it. Call it an early Christmas present. I’ll buy you another one, darling. What are you still doing in the office?”

  Michelle gave a snort and pulled a tortoise-shell clip from her hair, allowing it to fall against her neck. She twisted her finger around a thick strand. “Just waiting for my personal masseuse to show up, sweetie.”

  “Sarcasm does not become you. You know, you shouldn’t be working here at all. Kevin should hire someone else, divorce what’s-her-name and marry you, is what he should do. Especially now.”

  Michelle grinned. Belinda was in fine form and they hadn’t had drinks yet. “Unlike you, my dear friend, I happen to believe there is more to life than shopping and lunching at The Plaza. I find having a career fulfilling, not to mention necessary. Besides, I like my job.”

  Belinda’s knowing smile inched upward and lit her eyes with mischief. “And you may be moving offices if things go the way Kevin hopes they will.”

  Michelle opened the drawer to her desk and ignored her. “What’s going on out there?”

  Her friend’s low laughter flooded the office. “As you would expect. The city’s buzzing, Shel. Word on the street is that Kevin’s going to run for Barry’s seat. And he’ll get it.”

  “Of course he will.” Michelle slammed the drawer shut and gave her a pointed stare. “And you’ve lived in New York long enough to know where that leaves me.”

  Belinda waved off the comment. “He’s not going to get back together with his wife. They’ve been separated for two years. They’re getting a divorce. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculous?” Michelle shrugged, shutting down her computer. “I’m not being ridiculous. Just realistic. Felicity would take him back tomorrow. You and I both know it, Kevin knows it, half the city probably knows it.”

  Belinda’s full mouth turned downward and Michelle groaned. “Don’t start, Belinda.”

  “Why do you put up with this? You deserve better.”

  “Do I?” Michelle tried to push off gloomy thoughts. It wouldn’t be the first Christmas spent alone. She studied the painting again, marveling at how the long brush strokes captured the pure stillness of dawn. She could almost smell the crisp, pine-scented air.

  “Go home, Shel. Go spend the holidays with your folks.”

  She whirled to face Belinda. “You’re kidding, right?” Her throat tightened at the notion. “How long have we been friends? You of all people know I can’t go home. I can’t believe you’d even suggest it.”

  “I just thought…it’s Christmas. Maybe it’s time to put the past where it belongs.”

  “No.” Michelle reached across the desk for her laptop, snapped it shut and slipped it into the slim leather briefcase beside her desk. “If you came here to aggravate me, leave.”

  Belinda’s throaty chuckle filled the office once again. “I didn’t come here to aggravate you. I wanted to see if you were free for dinner. I’m sorry. Okay?”

  Michelle sighed, forced a smile and nodded. “Fine. Is Don still out of town?”

  “Yes, so you can come and keep me company. And I want to show you the plans for the place in Connecticut. You’ll love it.”

  “Great.” Drooling over Belinda’s weekend getaway mansion would still be better than sitting home alone, mooning over what would never be. “So you decided to go with that architect firm then, Fergus something?”

  “Shephard and Ferguson. Yes. They were highly recommended. We met. Nice young guys. One is the architect and the other runs the construction side of things. Seems like a family affair. The architect’s wife was going to do my interior, but…”

  Michelle carried the glasses over to the bar sink. “But what?”

  Her friend shrugged, put her coat back on and slung her purse over one shoulder. “She’s not working right now. I’m not sure why. Maybe she’s sick or something.”

  “Shame.” Michelle grabbed her own wool coat and briefcase, and moved to the door.

  Belinda caught her arm, compassion shimmerin
g in her dark eyes. “It’s going to work out, Shel.”

  Michelle exhaled and set her jaw. “Unless you’ve developed a talent for predicting the future, I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  Belinda’s smile returned as she gave Michelle’s arm a squeeze. “Madame Zelda at your service, my de-ah child.” She shot her a wink. “You’ll spend the holidays with us. Leave Kevin to plan his empire of dominion over the free world. We’ll do our own thing. Maybe even fly off to Vegas, what do you think?”

  “Please.” Michelle shuddered at the images that particular idea conjured up, but then she smiled. At least Belinda would keep her laughing. “Vegas? Well, life’s a gamble, so why not?”

  Chapter Three

  Claire lost track of time in the small office at the precinct. Her stomach protested its emptiness and began to growl. She dozed off for a bit, but woke with a start at the sound of footsteps thudding against the cement floor. Robert stepped into the room, somebody behind him.

  Robert nodded her way. “Your ride’s here.”

  Her husband cast a long shadow across the floor. He stood to one side, his hands thrust into the pockets of his beat-up leather jacket. His sandy-brown hair was windblown, his face flushed, his jaw covered in light scruff. Dark shadows beneath his hazel eyes told her he still wasn’t sleeping. She watched him take a deep breath and let it out.

  Claire blinked, unmoving.

  She ran her fingers through her tangled mess of hair, sobriety having set in some time ago. She hadn’t seen James in a couple of weeks. Not since their last argument that had been the catalyst for her throwing her stuff in a suitcase and moving back to Dad’s. Then today he’d called, asked her to meet him…and she’d bailed.

  Maybe being thrown in jail was her punishment. A punishment she definitely deserved, but didn’t desire.

  Robert cleared his throat. “Unless you really want to spend the night here, you can go.”

  Claire hesitated. Staying in this hole-in-the-wall just might be better than having to face the forthcoming battle her little expedition would incite.

  But she wasn’t that crazy.

  She reached for her purse and moved to the door, lowering her gaze as she passed Robert. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  “Claire?” His low voice stopped her and she turned to meet his stare. His expression softened just a tad. “Get some help. If you get pulled over again, you will be arrested. You’re putting yourself and everybody else on the road at risk. You’re past the point of rational behavior. You’re dangerous.”

  Familiar anger sparked but she swallowed it down. She just wanted to get out of here. “I didn’t think I’d had that much. I won’t do it again. And I’m sorry.” She ran her tongue over her cracked lips and picked up her purse. Neither of them acknowledged her flimsy excuse.

  Claire brushed past them and headed down the hall to the back door Robert had brought her through earlier. The familiar dark blue Jeep sat in the parking lot. James caught her up and marched beside her, hands pushed into his pockets, his mouth drawn in a firm line, the tendon in his jaw pulsing.

  Claire sucked in cold air and pulled out her cell phone. “I’m sorry he called you. You can leave. I’ll call a cab.”

  “Oh, that’s a good idea. Maybe you should have thought of it a few hours ago.” James sent a scathing glance her way as he unlocked his vehicle. “You’re unbelievable. Get in. And don’t talk to me.”

  “You sound just like your brother.” Claire climbed in on the passenger side and clicked her seatbelt in place.

  James slid his legs under the wheel and slammed the door. Then he faced her, eyes blazing. Opened his mouth, shut it again. Shook his head and emitted a low groan. “Driving drunk? It’s not like you can’t afford cab fare, Claire.”

  She sighed and pushed her shoulders back against the seat. Reality made her blood run cold. “I know.”

  “You could have killed someone.”

  “I know.”

  “Or yourself.”

  “Yes.” Wrapped her car around a tree and it would have been all over. A slight twitch of regret pricked her. “It was stupid. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “No, I guess you weren’t. You haven’t been thinking for a while now.”

  She pinched her lips and refused the guilt he threw her way. “Are we going to have another fight? Because I’m really not up for it. My head hurts.”

  “Good.” James pounded a fist on the steering wheel. “Did you forget that we were supposed to meet tonight? Or did getting a DUI seem like more fun?”

  “He didn’t arrest me.”

  “He should have.” James gunned the engine and pulled out of parking lot.

  Claire closed her eyes as he turned onto the road. Maybe if she feigned exhaustion he would just give it up. He slowed down and drove just under the speed limit for once, probably too tempted to pitch the Jeep into a snow bank. The normal thirty-minute ride to the gates of her father’s estate took sixty excruciatingly silent minutes.

  The Jeep shuddered to a stop outside the front steps. James kept the engine running and fiddled with the heating controls. Then he rested his head against the seat and let out his breath. “Are you still taking the anti-depressant medication Dr. Kay prescribed?”

  “Yep. Lot of good it’s doing.” She glared at the dashboard.

  James pressed his hands against the wheel. “Jesus, help me. What am I supposed to do with you?”

  Claire glanced his way and raised an eyebrow. Jesus? He wouldn’t help. Not that she’d asked lately.

  She clenched her fists and fought with sorrow. “Do you know what day it is?”

  “Yeah. Thursday. What’s that got to do with anything?”

  Claire waited a minute before she trusted speech. These days her emotions surged too close to the surface. “My mother died a year ago today, James. Two days before Christmas. Remember?”

  “Claire…” His voice got thick and gravely, like he too was going to cry any minute. She shouldn’t have let him drive her. Claire gripped the door handle, ready to bolt, but he put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. I should have remembered.” He took a shaky breath and tightened his grip. “Will you stop this ridiculous behavior? Let’s end this stupid separation or whatever you want to call it. Come home. We should be spending the holidays together.”

  “No.” Claire looked out the window at the grand stone house she’d grown up in—such a contrast to the modest but comfortable three-bedroom on Comber that she and James had shared only months ago. “We’ve been through this. I’m not ready. You keep pushing me, James. I don’t want to try to get pregnant again.”

  Golden shards of light shone from the long windows onto the sparkling snow. Maybe she should reconsider. Being here, her mother no longer inside waiting for her, wasn’t any better.

  “I don’t get you, Claire. I know the last miscarriage…” He paused and squeezed his eyes shut. “It doesn’t mean we’ll never have kids. Remember what the doctor said? You were under a lot of stress with your mom’s death. I know it hurts, Claire, but it’s almost been a year now. I just want—”

  Claire huffed out a breath. “I know what you want. You want to start over. Start again. That’s what you’re going to say, right? We’ll pick up where we left off and pretend none of this ever happened. Look at me! Do you think I’m in any shape to have a child, James? Do you think I’m in any shape to be the kind of wife you need?”

  His face remained impassive, used to her incoherent ramblings. “You could be. If you would agree to get help, Claire, to stop this…to…” He wasn’t even listening.

  “No.” She shook her head and sniffed, desperate to escape the warm car and searing conversation. “Give it up. You’re better off without me, Jamie. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”

  James locked eyes with hers, definitely paying attention now. “I won’t accept that. I’m not giving up on you, Claire.” He grabbed her wrist and held tight. “You don’t get it, do you? I’ve loved you since the day we m
et, and I won’t stop loving you until I take my last breath. You can shut me out. You can hate me if it makes you feel better. You can even leave town. Disappear if you want. But you can’t ever make me stop loving you.”

  Claire bit down to keep her lower lip from trembling. She stared out the window, taking deep gulps of air. The moon slid from behind the clouds and tossed tiny diamonds across the snow-covered hills that surrounded the house.

  James reached over, his hand soft against her cheek. “Say something.”

  “I…I can’t,” she stammered, black grief encompassing her. He couldn’t mean it. After everything she’d said, all she’d done. “You’re right,” she whispered, meeting his gaze. “I don’t understand it. And I don’t deserve it. You should hate me. Why don’t you?”

  He leaned toward her and brushed her cheek with his lips. The weariness in his eyes told her he was too worn out to argue. “Go on. Try to get some sleep tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow. If you need anything…”

  “Stop.” Claire placed two fingers on his lips. “Stop trying to fix things that can’t be fixed, Jamie. Stop trying to be my knight in shining armor.” She gave a wan smile. She’d thought her broken heart couldn’t hurt anymore.

  Wrong again, Claire.

  She took in the familiar curve of his face, the way the gold flecks in his eyes sparkled when he looked at her—the hard jaw line, the small dimple that sat in the middle of his chin and deepened when he smiled—Claire moved a trembling hand across his face to touch a stray lock of hair that fell over one eye.

  “You need a haircut,” she murmured.

  He caught her hand in his and held it against his cheek. Sudden warmth flooded her, the feeling so startling and unexpected that she wondered if she was imagining the sensation. Slowly he moved closer. The familiar scent of his cologne reached her nose and almost woke her sleeping soul. When he brought his mouth to hers, she closed her eyes, melting in the comfort of his kiss.

  James brushed her lips with his, gently. Once, twice…but before she could put her arms around him and respond, he drew back, a smile flickering and fading too fast. “By the way, I should warn you. Your dad got home a few hours ago. I had to tell him where you were. He’s a little miffed.”