“No. Fault.” His father's head shook back and forth steadily. “Beckin. Been. Threaten. Hundreds. Times.”
Yeah, that was no doubt true. But Gray somehow couldn't escape the burden of knowing he'd probably been the last to do it. And both he and Beckin had known he was serious. Unless Beckin had retired, Gray had been prepared to expose him.
There was a long silence.
“Beckin. Was. Talking.”
“What, Papa?” Gray sat forward, planting his elbows on his knees, not really hearing what Walter was saying.
“Newspapers.”
Gray frowned. “I'm sorry, what?”
“Anna. Shaw. Call. Me. Yesterday.” His father took a deep breath, as if the effort of talking was exhausting him, but he was determined to get the words out. “Want. Comment. On. Death.”
Gray waited as his father struggled to gather his thoughts and make them come out of his mouth right.
“At. End. I. Said. Will. Miss. Him.” There was a pause. “She. Mutter. Yes. Best. Source. She. Ever. Had.”
Gray felt shivers cross his skin. “Beckin was the Sen?ate leak?”
His father nodded. “She. Take. Back. Words. So. Prob?ably. True.”
Gray leaned back in the chair.
“Don't. Blame. You. Self. Beckin. Demons. Own. Many.”
“My God.”
His father's head fell back, his eyes closing. He looked so old. So frail.
Gray wondered how much time they had left together.
“I love you,” Gray whispered. God, how long had it been since he'd said those words to his father?
Walter's eyes fluttered open. The surprise in them told Gray it had been ages since they'd shared a moment like this. Even after the stroke, Gray had been so busy trying to take care of things, trying to be strong, that he hadn't done a lot of talking.
But that had always been his weakness, hadn't it?
“I love you, Papa,” Gray said loudly and clearly.
“Love. You. Son.”
“I'll call you later.”
“Okay.” His father's eyes closed, but his face had eased. There was a peace to him that went beyond the moment, that stretched back into the past and ahead into the future.
As Gray was leaving the room, his assistant called on the cell.
“I've booked you on the shuttle back to New York,” she said. “Your plane leaves in forty minutes. You better hustle.”
Gray knew he should probably stay in Washington, but the need to get back to Joy was too loud to ignore. Besides, his people would know where to find him and he'd already talked to CNN, FNC and the three major networks. He'd also touched base with his clients who were all nervous about how the death might affect the election. And he'd spent twenty minutes on the phone with the President.
God, he'd wanted to call Joy since he'd left her, but there hadn't been a minute to spare.
And there was more to it than that. She'd rocked his world the night before last and he wanted her to know it, but not over the damn phone. The need to tell her every?thing, to lay himself bare was what was driving him back to her. As much as he didn't deserve Joy, as much as his feelings scared him, as much as loving her might change him, he had to let her know.
It was almost eight when he landed at JFK and he went straight to the Congress Club. When he walked into the lobby, he could hear the sound of the reception reverber?ating off the marble walls. Going over to the club's ball?room, he paused in the doorway.
Everything was set up exactly as he'd asked. Joy's designs were posted around on brass standards. There were massive bouquets of fresh flowers. Candles were lit and glowing. And people were crowding to get to the woman in the center of the room.
Joy was wearing a chrome-yellow gown that fit her like water, the swirling beauty of her hair set off by the outrageous color. She was talking with animation, smil?ing. People were staring at her in awe.
She didn't need him, he thought with pride. She was in control of herself and the room.
He thought back to the night of the barbecue, when she'd danced in his arms. She'd seemed so young to him then, but now he saw her as the woman she was. Strong. Elegant. Smart.
A man walked into the circle surrounding her. When he slipped his arm around her waist, Gray stiffened, but he realized it was just a reflex. As Joy subtly, but firmly, stepped away, he thought that though her unguarded re?buff told him so much, he didn't need the confirmation that she wasn't with anyone else. Not after the night when they'd finally been together.
He was the one with the problem. And he was never going to tangle his past with her integrity again.
“Grayson Bennett, right?”
Gray glanced over his shoulder, frowning. “Do I know you?”
“I'm with the New York Post. Here to cover the new designer. But now that I see you, can I get a quote about Beckin's suicide?”
“No, you can't.”
“Are you surprised? Do you have any idea what might have caused him to kill himself?”
At that moment, a journalist from the Times looked through the crowd at Gray and started making her way over. A couple of other people noticed him and started whispering.
Gray turned and strode out of the lobby. He wasn't going to ruin Joy's moment. As much as he wanted to be in there with her, his presence was going to kick up the Beckin scandal and dilute her exposure.
He'd see her back at the suite.
As Joy stepped away from the man who'd put his arm around her waist, she glanced across the room and caught sight of a dark head turning away at the entrance.
Gray.
Her heart went cold as she watched him leave.
God, even after the night they'd had together, he was still convinced any man who touched her was going. home with her.
“Joy? Are you all right?”
She turned and forced a smile at Cassandra. “Yes. I am.”
“Well, then come over here and meet Lula Rathbone.”
Two hours later the reception wound down and Joy was in a taxi heading back to the Waldorf. She regretted like hell not bringing her bags with her and hoped Gray had gone elsewhere.
When she opened the door to the suite, she listened carefully. Hearing no sound, she rushed into the guest bedroom.
Only to find him sitting in a wing chair. Right next to her luggage.
His hands were up in a bridge in front of his chest. He looked grim.
“You're packed,” he said.
“I'm leaving.”
“Why?”
'There's a ten forty-five to Albany."
She went over and grabbed the portfolio and her bat?tered suitcase. His hand whipped out, stopping her.
“Let me go,” she said.
“I don't want to.”
“Why? Do you need to get laid again?”
He hissed, hand tightening. “Is that what you thought our night together was?”
“Yes. I do.” Because making love takes two, she thought. And it was just sex to you.
His hand fell away. He seemed to pale, as if he were either shocked or offended.
More likely the latter, she thought.
“You know I suppose I should thank you,” she bit out. “You've taught me so much and turned me into a success, just like one of your candidates, right? You told me what to wear and what to say, and you got the players all lined up, and everything went smoothly. They loved my work and I'm sure I'll be getting more clients so I guess I have a steady job now. It's a hell of a payback you gave me for just a couple of hours with my body.”
Gray rose from the chair, fury in his face. “You think I'm that kind of man?”
“You don't love me. You don't trust me. But you're clearly susceptible to guilt. Tonight was just a different version of that showdown at Tiffany's. I figure now you think you can walk away with a clean conscience.”
He loomed over her, enraged. “Just so you know, I had no intention of walking away from you. Until now.” He marched around her, heading into the living room. “Don't let the door hit you on the ass when you leave, sweetheart.”
As if he were the one who'd been wronged.
She went after him, lugging her stuff. “You have a hell of a nerve getting pissed off! You're the one who walked out on me two days ago.”
“Are you still here?” he drawled from the bar as he poured himself a bourbon. When he turned to her, his stare was icy.
Looking up at him, she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes.
“Oh, good. Now you're going to cry,” he snapped. “You insult the hell out of me, get all huffy because I'm offended, and then pull the weepy routine. I never pic?tured you as a gamer, but maybe I was wrong. You want me to get all romantic and beg you to stay now, right?”
“No, I would never expect that,” she whispered.
“What a relief.”
“Because you are incapable of love.”
His eyes narrowed. “How the hell would you know what I'mÑ”
“Have I ever done anything to betray you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Tonight, at the reception. I saw you turn away when that man came up to me. Even after all this time, you still think I'm going to run off with any idiot in pants who looks my way. In fact, I'm willing to bet you think Tom's going to be my first stop when I get up north, don't you? You probably figure I'm going to try out all those moves you taught me in your bed, right?” He opened his mouth, but she kept going. “God, I must have done something really awful to you, although I can't even begin to guess what it was. You don't even trust me enough to talk about your work.”
“What does my job have to do with this?”
“Every time I brought up what you do, you pushed me away.”
“You don't want to know aboutÑ”
“I did. I truly did. When you came up to White Caps that night and you finally spoke to me about something in your life, I was so relieved. I thought, See, he does view me as an equal. He does trust me. But then you pulled away, shut the door, closed up.” She shook her head. “This has been one wild ride. I've loved you for years and the only thing that lived up to my expecta?tions was the way you felt inside of me two nights ago. But like all dreams, that went away when I woke up.”
“You've loved me for years?” he said softly.
She looked away from his face, unable to bear the sight of him.
“Yeah, stupid, isn't it? And here's the craziest part. When I said those words that first night we were to?gether, guess what? I really meant them.” She laughed harshly. “But don't worry, I'm over it. I might be dumb enough to get caught in a fantasy, but I'm not a masochist.” She jacked up her load. “So goodbye, Gray. It's been real. Way, way too real. Oh, one more thing. I know one-nighters are your specialty, but in case you get an itch up north and start thinking of coming to find me, don't. I don't want to ever see you again.”
She turned around and strode across the carpet. As she left the suite, the door closed of its own volition behind her.
Penn Station was fairly busy even though it was late and Joy got a lot of funny looks as she sped along with her luggage. Even in New York, evidently, the sight of a woman in a chrome-yellow evening gown steaming through a mass transit lobby was a curiosity.
Her train was already waiting so she hiked up her dress and hightailed it down to the platform. At the far end of the line of cars, way in front by the engine, there was a uniformed ticket collector and he waved her over to him.
“You need help with all that, ma'am?” he asked as she approached.
“No, I'm fine. Thanks.”
“Here, lemme get you on board.” He took her suitcase and gave her a hand up.
His casual politeness nearly undid her and he seemed surprised when her eyes welled, as if women who wore evening gowns never cried.