The Bravos: Family Ties: The Bravo Family Way / Married in Haste / From Here to Paternity

They were all so dear and they really did seem to care and, well, Cleo needed to tell someone, she truly did. She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. “It’s Fletcher.” There. She’d said his name right out loud. She said it again. “It’s Fletcher. That’s the sad, awful truth.”

“Fletcher,” echoed Celia in a knowing tone. “I should have guessed.”

Cleo wiped her eyes some more. “It’s just … I’m so crazy about him and he wants to go out with me and, well, I know he’s all wrong for me.” She blew her nose a third time and told them everything—from that first meeting in Fletcher’s corner office to how she’d pushed him away for weeks and then finally taken his gift of the watch and how Danny, who was the perfect man as far as she was concerned, had broken it off with her because he knew she’d fallen for Fletcher.

When she’d finished her sad story and accepted another tissue from Celia, Jane dropped to the arm of her chair and bent close, that cloud of dark hair swinging forward around her arresting face. “Listen. Don’t feel too bad. I know, it’s awful when you fall for a Bravo man.” Jilly and Celia were nodding—in total agreement, apparently. “All of them,” Jane went on, “the sons of Blake Bravo, they always seem to have … issues, you know? They all grew up without a father and their childhoods had big challenges and … that’s just how they are. Kind of tough to get close to. At first, anyway …”

“But Cleo,” said Celia, “you might be surprised if you gave it a chance. You might find out that Fletcher is exactly the right guy for you.”

Cleo blinked. “You’re not serious.”

Celia looked slightly crestfallen. “Well, yeah. I was. Kind of …”

“Celia, he’s a major player. You know it.” She pointed her tissue at Jane and Jilly. “They know it. See? They’re not arguing. My mother loved nothing but major players and I know one when I see one. Fletcher’s a gorgeous guy with lots of power and a boatload of money, and I know he’s got a different girlfriend for every day of the week.”

Was she hoping they’d disagree with her—just a little, at least? No such luck.

Celia did go so far as to wave a dismissing hand. “Well, Aaron was that way, too. The drop-dead beautiful women came and went so fast I could hardly keep track of them. And as his personal assistant, it was my job to keep track of them. I was like you then, sure he was never going to settle down with one woman—and if he did, not with me. I’m very happy to tell you that I was totally wrong. It could be that you—”

“Wait a minute,” Jilly cut in. “Look, Cleo. We are so not going to tell you what you should do.”

“Well, I am,” Celia insisted.

Jilly shot her sister-in-law a warning look and continued, “We’re not going to lie to you. We all find Fletcher a hard guy to know.”

Celia was scowling. “But I think—”

Jilly cut her off again. “Ceil, come on. Fletcher’s a smooth operator, totally charming when he wants to be. And loyal where it counts. I believe he’d lay down his life for anyone he called family—or for anyone he considered his responsibility, for that matter. But what goes on inside that brilliant mind of his? It’s not like any of us knows.” She gave Cleo a game smile. “All we can say is, we did marry his brothers. And each one of us was certain our love was never gonna work. And look at us now.”

Cleo slumped in her chair. “The problem is, I’m just … paralyzed. Can’t stop thinking about him, can’t seem to make myself face him. I’ve actually been kind of hiding out from him, never going anywhere I might run into him during the time he would be dropping off or picking up Ashlyn….”

Celia pointed her index finger skyward and declared, “Action. Sometimes it just comes down to the fact that you have to do something, you know what I mean? Make a choice and go for it.”

“But with honesty,” said Jane. “Look him straight in the eye and lay the truth right on him.”

Jilly chimed in again. “Action is good.” Jane gave her a sharp look and she shrugged. “Yeah. All right. Honesty matters. I know that, Jane. But Cleo, you still have to figure out what’s going to work for you. If you decide to go to him, can you live with it if it ends up just the way you’re afraid it will? On the other hand, can you stand not to give what you feel for him a chance?”

“Oh, Jilly …” Cleo sniffed and dabbed her eyes some more. “Those are the right questions. I just don’t know the answers.”

“You will,” said Jane. “Trust me on this. Eventually you’ll make a choice.”

“Make it soon,” advised Celia. “It took me forever to tell Aaron how I felt about him.”

“And?” Cleo asked, daring to hope she’d get reassurance.

Celia looked sheepish.

Jilly spoke for her. “It went badly. Really badly.”

“Gee. Great to know.”

Celia sat up straighter. “But soon enough things did improve. Greatly. Looking back, I only wish I hadn’t dithered around so much.”

A half an hour later Cleo left Celia’s penthouse. She paused at the door to exchange business cards with Jilly and Jane. And, of course, to hug each of the Bravo women in turn.

“Call us,” said Jilly. “Any of us—all of us—anytime you need to talk.”

Cleo promised that she would.

The wine and the uncharacteristic crying jag had left her feeling draggy and tired. She would go home, relax, watch a movie on Lifetime. After weeks of driving herself day and night, an afternoon of doing nothing was just what she needed.

She got in the private elevator that serviced Celia’s suite, forcing a weak smile for the attendant and then standing back against the far wall of the car, trying not to look at herself in the gold-veined mirrors that surrounded her.

The attendant cleared his throat. “Parking levels?”

Her car was parked across the street, behind Hotel Impresario, not far from KinderWay. “No. Fifth floor please. I’ve got to go back over to Impresario.”

“Fifth floor it is.” The car hummed, picked up speed—and slowed to a stop in no time at all. “Here you are.” The door rolled open.

Cleo left the elevator, walking at a brisk pace. She had a ways to go, around to the front of the resort to the open area where the escalators carried people up from High Sierra’s casino and then across the glass skyway that connected the two resorts at fifth-floor level.

At Impresario she took the escalator down, hurried through the noisy, busy casino and along the fake French streets. At last she reached the hotel. She passed the long check-in desk and started down the hallway that led to the back parking lot and, at last, her SUV.

By then, she was looking down, focused on moving fast. She wanted out of there and into the privacy of her car. She had no idea who was coming toward her until he was standing right in front of her.

She spotted the gleaming pair of fine Italian shoes first. The shoes stopped a few feet from her, directly in her path. She started to dodge around, looking up at the same time—right into those mesmerizing pale gray eyes.

She stopped stock-still and drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, no,” she muttered. “Not you. Not right now.”

Chapter Seven

Great, Fletcher thought. He hadn’t seen her since Monday and now he finally ran into her, all she could say was, Oh, no. Not you….

But then he looked closer. Her eyes were red and slightly puffy. She must have been crying not too long before. What the hell was that about?

Concern replaced frustration. “Cleo, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. And you know, I really have to go.” She tried again to dodge around him.

He slid to the side and blocked her. “Wait.” He wasn’t letting her go without knowing what had happened, without finding out if there was something he could do to help.

“Fletcher, please …” She was looking at the red-and-gold carpet again, as if she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes.

What the hell was going on here? He knew that the people hurrying past on either side were staring, wondering the same thing—not that he gave a damn. Let ‘em stare.

He took her by the shoulders. “Cleo, come on. Tell me what’s happened.” She tried to turn her face away—but he caught her chin and tipped it up to him. “Your eyes are red and swollen. You’ve been crying. Did somebody—”

She didn’t let him finish. “No. Nobody.” She tried to jerk away. He held on. And then she pinched up that soft mouth he couldn’t wait to kiss. “All right,” she said. “Fine. If you must know, it’s you.”