For All of Her Life (11 page)

“Kathy—”

“Jeremy, he’s dating a little kid!”

“Ummm. Tara Hughes. Sexy little kid.”

“My point exactly. She’s very young.”

“She’s around thirty, I think.”

“I’m at least fifteen years older.”

“But very well preserved!” Jeremy said cheerfully. “No new decay today that I can see.”

“You might not be looking closely enough,” Kathy murmured. She sighed deeply. “Please try to understand. She’ll be there. Hostess in what used to be my house.”

“You left it,” he reminded her stubbornly.

“Right. And I didn’t mean to go back to it.”

“But you agreed to do so.” She nodded, stepping harder on the exercise machine and still not noticing the pain of such determined effort. Were she only this worried on a daily basis, she’d have the best thighs in all New York.

“You told me I had to do it, remember?” she said to him. “‘The party of the century?’”

“When do you ever listen to me?”

“I feel I need to for some reason. Didn’t you notice, last night, Jeremy? He was tense; this whole thing really means a lot to him.”

“He didn’t seem tense to me.”

“That’s because you don’t know him.”

“He was completely the gentleman. Not in the least tense. Even when the police had their guns in his face. I thought you said he had quite a temper.”

“He does. On occasion. And we’re getting off the subject.”

“You mean about me going with you?”

“Right. Jeremy—”

“Kathy, we’d be living a lie,” he reminded her very politely, as if explaining ethics to a stubborn child.

“It will not be a long trip—you just can’t imagine how hard it would be to go back there alone!”

“Your daughters will be there,” he reminded her stubbornly. “I consider them my friends as well. And they will know the truth about you and me.”

“I know they won’t say anything.”

“He’s their father.”

“Right. And they’re protective of both of us. Since he’s the one really dating the gorgeous, sweet young thing—”

“Does that mean you’re calling me a sweet young thing, too?”

She grinned. “Muscleman.”

“What?”

“Never mind. I’m not sure you can really understand this, but I know Bren and Alex and they’ll always hope their father and I will get back together. Naturally, they’ll think Jordan will find me more appealing if I’m on the arm of a very handsome, younger man; so they’ll encourage his belief that we’re having a hot and heavy affair, but not one that embodies everlasting love!” she assured him.

“Kathy, you read too much.”

“That’s human nature,” she assured him. “Don’t we all tend to want something someone else has?”

“Does Tara have him?”

“Maybe no one really has Jordan,” she murmured.

“I can’t salvage your heart, Kathy.”

“My heart doesn’t need salvaging, but my ego can really use the booster. Jeremy, please, if I am going to go back, I need help.”

“Help her,” said a third voice, a rich, smooth, masculine voice.

Kathy missed a step. She and Jeremy both turned around, startled.

Tony Grant, another one of the instructors at the gym, had come over and stood grinning ear to ear behind them. He was about Jeremy’s age, blond and tanned, and becoming a popular model in his spare time, though he loved being a personal trainer and had no intention of leaving the field even if he became an even more popular model. He liked people too much, working with them, helping them live their lives in a more healthful fashion.

“How loudly were we talking?” Kathy asked, feeling a mortified blush settling into her cheeks, and whispering now, though she was aware she was probably doing so just a little too late.

Tony shook his head. “I didn’t really hear much. Don’t look so panicked! Jeremy told me about your ex-husband’s arrival and what that ex-husband assumed was going on between you and him last night.”

“I probably should have been discussing this with you both,” she said sheepishly. “Would you mind—?”

“You’ve stopped stepping,” Jeremy said.

“What?”

“You’re on a stair machine, young woman! Start stepping!”

“I’ve been on this thing long enough to have climbed the damned Rockies!” She groaned, stepping off the machine completely and drying her face with the small towel she had cast around her shoulders.

“Kathy, this is not a proper workout,” Jeremy said firmly.

“Jeremy, I will work my little butt off if you’ll just help me.”

“The object is to work your butt off anyway!” he announced sternly.

“Kathy, don’t pay any attention to him. He’ll do it. He’ll be delighted to do it,” Tony said.

“I will?” Jeremy asked.

Tony lifted his arms. “I’d do it! I’d do it in an instant. What’s the matter with you? They’re going to be making history down there! Besides, what are friends for if they don’t help each other out?”

Kathy gave Tony an impulsive hug. “Whoops, sorry about the sweat!” she said.

“Job hazard,” he said lightly.

“I’m the one going,” Jeremy reminded her. “And he’s already soaked up the sweat. You may show gratitude and appreciation to me, as well.”

She laughed and hugged him, too, then looked at them both. “Thanks guys, really. I know it’s childish, but I was married a long time. And he’s got a gorgeous young thing at his side. Now I—”

“Will have one too,” Tony teased.

She laughed. “That’s the point. Jeremy is absolutely gorgeous and young. He’s just not
my
gorgeous young thing. He’s borrowed for the occasion.”

“With my blessing,” Tony told her.

“If you two have got this all settled now...” Jeremy began dryly.

“Hey, wait a minute. I want to be invited down for the big reunion concert,” Tony said.

“You’ve got it,” Kathy told him. “And Alex’s birthday as well.”

“Now it’s all settled,” Tony grinned again.

“I’ll make it up to you both, I promise,” Kathy said.

“I’m sure you will,” Tony said. “But I think this means you’d better be getting to the whole roomful of machines, Kathy, my dear. Back to work now. We’ll repair you before the big day so you don’t have to worry about any decay. The plane isn’t leaving yet! But do you know what?”

“What?” Kathy said.

He shrugged, and lifted her chin to meet her eyes. “Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re worth a dozen sweet young things. And I’m even willing to bet your ex realizes that!”

“Thanks!” she told him softly. “You guys are really good friends.”

“Yeah. We try. And we really like a good party, too!” he teased.

As he walked away, leaving her and Jeremy to their work, a sudden surge of tremors swept through Kathy.

It was going to happen.

She was really going back.

Quite suddenly, the thought was almost paralyzing.

Because she was afraid of going home...

T
HE HOUSE ON STAR
Island was huge, with a full ten thousand feet of living area plus a number of patios and the guest house.

It had been constructed along the lines of a Mediterranean villa, in the style popular in South Florida in the twenties when the place had been built, when men such as Mizner, Fink, and Paist had been creating homes—on small and large scales—with unique architectural overtones. In fact, Jordan’s home had been built in the very early twenties, before the hurricane of the mid-decade had devastated nearly all of the growing area, and it had stood up to the winds and water, as it continued to do today. Hurricane Andrew hadn’t managed to do much more than sweep away a few roof tiles.

The only real damage ever done to Star Island occurred when the fire decimated the guest house. Five years ago, Jordan had had it replaced. Since the home was on the historic register, he’d been determined to restore it. It was a two-story structure with arches and loggias, a glassed-in porch on the first floor, a balcony on the second. The single bedroom was upstairs, a small living area and kitchen were on the ground floor.

The main house was shaped like a horseshoe, the sides curving around the courtyard, patio, and pool; the guest house being to the left of the back of the house, almost directly on the water. The view was outstanding. Although the rear of the home was on a curve of the island, the yard afforded views of the bridge out to Miami Beach, nearby Hibiscus Island, and, at night, the dazzle of light from downtown Miami. From the small private dock, it was an easy sail or motor out to the open bay. From the first time he had seen the place, Jordan had thought it a paradise.

He’d just never imagined that he’d wind up living in paradise alone. And he wasn’t sure why, at first, after the fire and the divorce, he had kept the house. Doggedness, maybe. Or perhaps the view. Maybe because it was a paradise, and he’d wanted it for his daughters and himself. No one could alter that, no circumstance change it.

He stood by the pool, leaned against one of the columns that was part of the trellised walkway on the bay side of the crystal water. From his vantage point, he had a view of the main patio and the guest house.

“Where are you going to put everyone?” Tara asked him.

He turned to her.

Blond hair straight down her back with an unbelievable silky sheen, eyes shaded with dark glasses, skin honed to a perfect golden tan—and a great deal of it proudly displayed in a small yellow bikini—she was elegantly draped on a patio chair, a notebook and pen in her hands. She’d just come in from a shoot, and she was on her way back out to a shoot in the morning. He wondered if she would have flown back in if she hadn’t been concerned about helping him with his guest list and the positioning. It somewhat amused him that she was so worried about where he’d put people for the reunion. Actually, he was quite certain she worried only about where he put Kathy.

The deep end of the pool might have suited Tara.

“Only the band members are staying at the house. And my father. My mother-in-law.”

“You’re divorced. You don’t have a mother-in-law.”

He shrugged. “I was only married once. And Sally is a great lady.”

Tara wisely kept quiet on that one.

“The girls have their own rooms, so they’re taken care of,” Tara murmured. “For guests we need seven rooms, two for the parents, then there are your ex-wife, Larry Haley, Shelley Thompson, Miles Reeves, and Derrick Flanaghan. And they’re all married or paired up, right?” She removed her glasses and stared at him. Her eyes were huge, a pure sky blue. She smiled. He felt guilty.

“We need eight,” he said.

“Eight?”

“Shelley and Miles are coming alone. Larry has a new wife, and Derrick has been married forever. But I can’t just presume that Kathy wants to be housed with this friend she’s bringing.”

“If she’s bringing him, she probably wants to be ‘housed’ with him,” Tara snapped.

“I doubt it. This fellow doesn’t live with her in New York.”

“How do you know?”

He sighed. “My daughters would have informed me of the situation.”

“Then maybe she’d like to be housed with him for a change.”

He shook his head. “I think she’d be uncomfortable. Her mother and her children will be here. I need two rooms for Kathy, so we need eight.”

The house actually had fourteen bedrooms. The master was his, and the connecting bedroom he had turned into his office. His daughters each had a room. The largest bedroom in the right wing of the house was occupied by Joe and Peggy Garcia, the couple who were butler and housekeeper, managed everything regarding the home for him. A second room in the right wing housed Joe and Peggy’s son, Angel, who was working his way through the U. of Miami by being a handyman and doing some gardening. Tara also had a room. She liked her separate space—and certainly needed it. She’d never “lived” with him, though she’d stayed with him often enough, and even on those occasions, had wanted her own space. She took up... space. Her bathroom was filled to the rim with different lotions, hand things, face things, body things. For a good night’s sleep before a shoot, she liked to stretch out alone. But Jordan had also wanted his own space. The arrangement had worked out.

Despite the size of the main house, for the party he was planning, they were short a room.

“I can move into your room for the time,” Tara said. “That will be easy enough.”

“It isn’t necessary.”

“But I don’t mind at all.”

“No. My father and my daughters will be here, remember?”

“Oh, they don’t know we sleep together?”

“Tara, we’ve always kept separate rooms.”

“Jordan, you’re over forty! Your daughters are grown up now, they know you have relationships—know that we have one! Under the circumstances, we should just give up the luxury of a little extra space. I don’t mind.”

“I do.”

“You are beginning to hurt my feelings.”

“I don’t mean to. This is just one time when I need my space.”

“So” she inquired with a sudden streak of rancor, “Do I just slip your ex-wife in with you?”

“You don’t need to slip anyone anywhere, Tara. Peggy will work out who goes where.”

“I’m trying to help you, Jordan.”

Maybe he was being a louse.

“The main house has fourteen rooms, but,” he reminded her, “you’re forgetting the guest house.”

“I am, as you should be!” she said, lifting her glasses again to stare at him. “The last time you all were together, the guest house burned to the ground. Who is going to want to stay where Keith died? You’re not going to be able to put anyone else out there!”

“I’m not going to try to.”

“Honestly, Jordan, you’ve become so damned weird over this whole thing! If you’re not going to put a guest out there—”

He glanced her way, arching a brow, smiling slightly. “I’ll be out there myself, Tara. It’s exactly where I want to be.”

Shelley Thompson sat in her small dressing room, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She moved closer. Good. A few little lines, that was natural. But all in all, she looked really good. The surgeon she was using now had the most deft hands in the universe. Up close, she might look thirty-five. At a distance, she could pass for a woman in her twenties. All right, late twenties. But she did look good. It wasn’t going to be difficult to go back. Not on that level, at least.