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

“Be glad to.” She repeated all that Celia had said.

When she was done, he was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. “Yeah. Belinda died of a stroke. It was a complete shock to everyone….”

She laid her hand on the side of his face. “Fletcher?”

He bent close enough to kiss the tip of her nose. “Why do I sense more questions coming?”

“Maybe because you’re a very smart man.”

There was a moment. She had a feeling he would tell her that they’d talked of this enough. But then he said, “All right. Fire away.”

She did exactly that. “What happened … between you two? Why did you end up divorced?”

He caught her wrist, gently opened her fingers and placed a warm kiss in the heart of her palm. Then he pressed her hand to his chest again. “Belinda hated Atlantic City. She didn’t like the gaming industry and she missed her hometown. And I was working killing hours—even more so than now, if that’s possible—trying to establish myself and move up. She felt … deserted by me, I guess you could say. I didn’t understand why she couldn’t try harder to fit into my world. And it really got to me that she would resent my working hard when, in the end, I was working for us, for our future.

“By the last year we were married, she was spending more time in Bridgewater than with me. She told me she was pregnant and that she wanted a divorce in pretty much the same sentence. She also wanted full custody. I gave her everything she asked for—alimony and child support and sole custody of the baby. All of it. I was bitter. I felt she hadn’t tried hard enough to make things work. I threw money at her and told myself I was glad to be rid of her.”

“But … what about Ashlyn?”

“You want the hard truth?”

“Please.”

“I didn’t think a whole lot about her. My accountant sent the money and I went on with my climb up the gaming-business ladder—and you don’t approve, do you? I can see it in the way you’re pointing your chin at me.”

“No, Fletcher. I don’t approve.”

“Neither do I. Now. But the ugly truth is, until Belinda died and I met Ashlyn for the first time, she just wasn’t real to me.”

“How sad—for her. And for you.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“But I’m glad that at least you and your daughter finally … found each other. And that you have a good relationship with Belinda’s parents. That’s important, I think, for her to know her mother’s side of the family.”

“I think so, too. Any more questions?”

“Not right at the moment.”

“Don’t hesitate. Anytime you’re the least bit curious, ask away.”

“Oh, don’t you worry. I definitely will.” As she looked up through the shadows into his pale eyes, she felt she knew enough now about what had ended his marriage to Belinda that this particular part of Fletcher’s past wouldn’t nag at her mind so much. “And thank you.”

“For …?”

“Helping me to understand.”

“I live to serve.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Cleo?”

“Hmm?”

“Kiss me.”

“Great idea.” She smiled and lifted her mouth to his.

Friday, she and Fletcher planned to have lunch at Club Rouge, but he called at the last minute to say his meeting was running late.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, his voice low and intimate, causing shivers to skitter along her skin. “Tonight …”

Cleo settled for a sandwich at one of the sidewalk cafés along the indoor boulevard between the casino and Hotel Impresario. She’d just placed her order for a BLT and a large iced tea when a feminine voice said, “Cleo Bliss. It’s been a while.”

She looked up. “Andrea. How are you?”

“Oh, you know …” The showgirl slid into the seat across from her. “Workin’. I’ve got a featured part in Cancan du Bal.”

“Hey. That’s good news, huh?”

“I’m doing okay.” The waitress trotted back over bearing a menu. Andrea waved it away. “Brush-up rehearsal in ten minutes. You know how it goes….”

“I remember. Yes.”

Andrea flipped a swatch of thick dark hair back over her shoulder and recrossed her long denim-clad legs. Cleo had done two shows with Andrea, a rock revue over at the Luxor and a rip-off of Cats at one of the smaller resorts. They’d always gotten along well enough, though they’d never been what you’d call friends.

“So,” said Andrea. “I heard you did it. You’re living your big dream. You opened a day care.”

“A preschool. Yes, I did.”

“And now you’ve opened one here, too, at Impresario.”

The waitress set Cleo’s iced tea at her elbow. She picked it up and sipped from it. “Word gets around.”

“That’s right. All those nights of going home early, missing the party, paid off for you, I guess.” Cleo made a sound in her throat, the kind that might have meant anything. Andrea folded her forearms on the table. The diamond bracelet on her right arm caught the light, giving off a glitter as hard and bright as the one in her sapphire-blue eyes. She pitched her voice low. “I hear you’re with Fletcher now.”

Fletcher. First name only. Cleo got the message. Loud and much too clear. “Yes, I am.” She sipped more tea.

“Like you said a minute ago, word gets around. You know how it is.”

“Oh, yes. I know.”

“He’s a driven man, Fletcher is.” Andrea pretended to fan herself. “What a body, huh? Somehow he makes time for the gym five days a week. I like a man with cheese-grater abs—hey, nice watch.”

“Thank you. Beautiful bracelet.”

Andrea held up her wrist, flicked it back and forth so the diamonds twinkled wildly. “I love it. ‘Square cut or pear-shaped,’ as the old song goes.”