The Season Of Love: Beloved

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Mrs. Lester’s right here.”

“I guess so. I do worry about you.” He smiled sheepishly. “I don’t have any family, either. You’re sort of the only relative I have, even though you aren’t.”

“Same here.”

He searched her eyes. “Two of a kind, aren’t we? We loved not wisely, and too well.”

“As you said, it’s their loss,” she said stubbornly. “Have a safe trip. Are you taking Big Red?”

He shook his head. “They won’t let me take him on the plane,” he said. “Walters is going to stand guard over him in the garage with a shotgun while I’m gone, though. Maybe he won’t pine.”

She burst out laughing. “I’m glad I have you for a friend,” she said sincerely.

He took her hand and held it gently. “That works both ways. Take care. I’ll phone you sometime during the week, just to make sure you’re okay. If you need me…”

“I have your mobile number,” she assured him. “But I’ll be fine.”

“See you next week, then.”

“Thanks for the ride home,” she said.

He shrugged and flashed her a white smile. “My pleasure.”

She watched him drive away with sad eyes. She was going to have to live down the bad publicity without telling her side of the story. Well, what did it matter, she reasoned. It could, after all, have been worse.

Chapter Three (#u8b1915eb-ffc9-5a5a-bc51-76b583047e90)

The week passed slowly until the charity ball on Saturday evening. It was to be a lavish one, hosted by the Carlisles, a founding family in the area and large supporters of the local hospital’s charity work. Their huge brick mansion was just south of the perimeter of San Antonio, set in a grove of mesquite and pecan trees with its own duck pond and a huge formal garden. Tira had always loved coming to the house in the past for these gatherings, but she knew that Simon would be on the guest list. It was going to be hard facing him again after what had happened. It was going to be difficult appearing in public at all.

She did plan to go down with all flags flying, however, having poured her exquisite figure into a sleeveless, long black velvet evening gown with lace appliqués in entrancing places and a lace-up bodice that left little gaps from her diaphragm to her breasts. Her hair was in an elegant French twist with a diamond clip that matched her dangling earrings and delicate waterfall diamond necklace. She looked wealthy and sophisticated and Charles gave her a wicked grin when she came through to the living room with a black velvet-and-jewel wrap over one bare shoulder. It was November and the weather was unseasonably warm, so the wrap was just right.

Charles dressed up nicely, she thought, studying him. His tuxedo played up his extreme good looks and his fairness.

“Don’t we make a pair?” he mused, glancing in the hall mirror at them. “Pity it isn’t the right one.”

“We’ll both survive the evening,” she assured him.

“Only if we drink hard enough,” he said with graveyard humor. Then he noticed her expression and grimaced. “Sorry,” he said genuinely.

“No need to apologize,” she replied with a wry smile. “I did something stupid and had the misfortune to be found doing it. I’ll survive all the gossip. But whatever you do, don’t leave me alone with Simon, okay?”

“Count on it. What are friends for?”

She smiled at him. “To get us through rough times,” she said, and was suddenly very grateful that she had a friend as good as Charles.

Charles chided her gently for her growing and obvious nervousness as he drove rapidly down the road that led to the Carlisle estate. “Don’t worry so. You’re old news,” he reminded her. “There’s the local political scandal to latch on to now.”

“What political scandal?” she asked. “And how do you know about it when you’ve been out of town?”

“Because our lieutenant governor has been participating in a conference on the problems of inner cities in Memphis. I sat next to him on the flight home,” he said smugly. Keeping his eyes on the road, he leaned toward her. “It seems that the attorney general intervened in a criminal case for a friend. The criminal he got paroled was serving time for armed robbery, but when he got out, he went right home and killed his ex-wife for testifying against him and is now back in prison. But the wheels of political change are going to roll over the governor’s fair-haired boy.”

“Oh, my goodness,” she burst out. “But he was only doing a kindness. How could he know…?”

“He couldn’t, and he isn’t really to blame, but the opposition party is going to use it to crucify him. I understand his resignation is forthcoming momentarily.”

“What a shame,” Tira said honestly. “He’s done a wonderful job. I met him at one of the charity benefits earlier this year and thought how lucky we were to have elected someone so capable to the position! Now, if he resigns, I guess the governor will have to temporarily appoint someone to finish his term.”

“No doubt he will.”

“Maybe he’ll slide out of it. Lots of politicians do.”

“Not this time, I’m afraid,” Charles said. “He’s made some bitter enemies since he took office. They’ll love the opportunity to settle the score.”

She recalled that Simon had antagonized plenty of people when he held the office of state attorney general. But it would have taken more than a scandal to unseat him. He had a clever habit of turning weapons against their wielders.

She closed her eyes and ground her teeth as she realized how pitiful she was about him, still. Everything reminded her of Simon. She hadn’t wanted to come tonight, either, but the alternative was to stay home and let the whole city know what a coward she was. She had to hold her head up high and pretend that everything was fine, when her whole world was lying in shards around her feet.

She hadn’t tried to kill herself, but one particularly lurid newspaper account said she had, and added that it had been over former attorney general Simon Hart, who’d rejected her. It was in a newspaper published by a relative of Jill Sinclair, a woman who’d been a rival of Tira’s for Simon during the past few years. Tira had been even more humiliated at that particular story, but when she’d phoned the reporter who wrote it, he denied any knowledge of Jill Sinclair. Still, she was certain dear Jill had a hand in it.

Tira shuddered, realizing that Simon must have seen the story, too. He’d know what a fool she’d been over him, which was just one more humiliation. Living that down wasn’t going to be easy. But she did have Charles beside her. And he had his own ordeal to face, because his sister-in-law would certainly be present.

A valet came to park the car for Charles, who was torn between escorting Tira inside or accompanying the elegantly dressed young man assigned to the car placement to make sure he didn’t put a scratch on Big Red.

“Go ahead,” Tira said with amused resignation. “I’ll wait on the steps for you.”

“You’re such a doll,” he murmured and made a kissing motion toward her. “How many women in the world would understand a man’s passion for his car? Here, son, I’ll just ride down with you to the parking lot.”

The valet seemed torn between shock and indignation.

“He’s in love with it!” Tira called to the young man. “He can’t help himself. Just humor him!”

The valet broke into a wide grin and climbed under the steering wheel.

It was unfortunate that while she was waiting on the wide porch for Charles to return, Simon and his date got out of his elegant town car at the steps and let the valet drive it off. He looked devastating, as usual. He was wearing the prosthesis, she noticed, and wondered at how much he seemed to use it these days. Just after the wreck, he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing an artificial arm.

The woman with him was Jill Sinclair herself, a socialite, twice divorced and wealthy, with short black hair and dark eyes and a figure that drew plenty of interest. It would, Tira thought wickedly, considering that her red sequined dress must have been sprayed on and the paint ran out at midthigh. Advertising must pay, she mused, because Simon certainly seemed pleased as he smiled down at the small woman and held her elbow as they climbed up the steps.

He didn’t see Tira until they were almost at the top. When he did, he seemed to jerk, as if the sight of her was unexpected.

She didn’t let anything of her feelings show, despite the pain of seeing him now when her whole life had been laid bare in the press. She did her best not to let her embarrassment show, either. She smiled carelessly and nodded politely at the couple and deliberately turned away in the direction where Charles and the valet were just coming into view.

“Why, how brave she is,” Jill Sinclair purred to Simon, just loud enough for Tira to hear her. “I’d never have had the nerve to face all these people after that humiliating story in the—Simon!”

Her voice died completely. Tira didn’t look toward them. Her face was flaming and she knew her accelerated heartbeat was making her shake visibly. She and Jill had never liked each other, but the woman seemed to be looking for a way to hurt her. She was obviously exuding her power since she’d finally managed to get Simon to notice her and take her out. God knew, she’d been after him for years. Tira’s fall from grace had obviously benefitted her.

Charles bounded up the steps and took Tira’s arm. “Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly.

“You love your car,” she replied with a warm smile. “I understand.”