Children of Dynasty (31 page)

“There you are,” John said warmly. “I was about to faint from hunger.”

Arnold dumped the sack on the bed tray in a familiar fashion and pulled out a pair of wrapped bundles labeled as cheeseburgers.

“Dad, you aren’t supposed …” Mariah began.

“Now, daughter, I missed my supper at home and got here after the hospital served their rubber chicken. The nurse offered me fruit juice or gelatin.” He made a face.

Arnold brought out biggie fries, sticking every which way out of the top of their cardboard container.

John snagged one, ate it, and gave Mariah a reproving glance. “After all that boring food you’ve been making me eat, it’s time I had something tasty.”

Mariah wanted to snatch the high fat treats and dump them in the trashcan. “It’s for your own good, Dad.” She pointed at Arnold. “You should know better.”

He lifted a shoulder in a dismissive motion. “You heard the man. He’s been on the straight and narrow ever since his heart attack. He’s feeling all right since his chest pain went away and he wants real food.”

Mariah looked at him standing beside her father’s bed as if he were family. Before she could think of something rude to say, Arnold crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed both her and Rory. “You and Campbell still at it, then?”

Rory took a half step forward. “What’s it to you?”

“Benton,” Mariah put in. “This is Arnold Benton, our financial officer who’s responsible for the trouble we’re in with First California.”

Arnold also moved a step toward Rory, but it was not to shake hands.

“Stop it, all of you!” John’s voice cracked with the power she remembered in him.

Everyone froze.

Her father went on, “Now Arnold and I are going to eat what he brought. Then we’re going to have a game of chess.” Putting out his hand, he encouraged Mariah to come to his other side away from Arnold.

She went to him.

He pulled her down and hugged her. “You go along now. I’ll be all right tonight … leave your number and the hospital will call if there’s a problem.”

She straightened. “Dad, I want to stay.” But did she if Arnold was going to exercise squatter’s rights?

“It’s better if you and Rory go,” he urged. “I don’t need him and Arnold at each other’s throats.”

Rory cleared his throat. “I can take off.”

John smiled at him. “Buy my daughter dinner.” He squeezed her hand. “Arnold will stay a while and go home.”

“But what if you get worse during the night?” She tried to tamp down the sense that John was favoring Arnold.

“You didn’t spend nights the last time I was in,” John said.

Much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She had slept at home, even during the worst of his recuperation from surgery. The medical staff had encouraged her to get enough rest, and she had the company to run.

“Come back in the morning and hear what Dr. Hanover has to say,” he suggested.

Arnold chomped a French fry and smiled as Rory led Mariah out the door.

Once in the hall, she vented. “I can’t believe Dad lets Arnold near him! It’s all his fault the company is being threatened and he brings cheeseburgers.”

Rory paused with his finger halfway to the elevator button. “Arnold doesn’t like us being together.”

“He probably came in disapproving because he thought Dad was.”

Rory raised a brow. “John did disapprove until recently.” On the way down the hall toward the exit, she was struck by how fast things were moving. Her father had looked at Rory with a new trust, had clearly seen the two of them standing together as a declaration. How did Rory feel about that?

As if he heard her thoughts, he put an arm around her and snugged her against him.

“With your Dad on our side, all we have to do is win over Father.”

They went out through the hospital’s automatic door into the parking lot. In a pool of orange light beneath a pole lamp, a dark Taurus sat in the drive.

Mariah felt a clutch of alarm as a man inside watched them approach, raised a camera, and started filming their walk toward the Porsche.

“Dammit.” Rory ducked his head and tried to shield her. “That must be ‘On The Spot.’”

She recognized the black-haired, hawk-faced man as the one who’d been following her when she left Rory’s townhouse after returning from Big Sur. While it was a relief to know he hadn’t been out to do her physical harm, she didn’t want to see her position at Grant undermined further. And Rory didn’t need more press about being a shiftless playboy, not when he was going to be looking for a job.

He opened the car door and held it for her. As she turned away from him to get in, he detained her with a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up and found a boyish grin spreading over his face. “What the hell. In for a penny …”

Before she could figure his intent, he brought his mouth down on hers.

She gasped and tried to push him away. “This is for TV!” Mortified by their first appearance, she couldn’t imagine what he was thinking.

Rory drew back and she saw determination in his eyes. “Let my father see this. Let the whole world.”

With a nudge of his thigh, he moved her against the side of the car. Her arms went around his back and one hand slid up into his hair, pulling his mouth down harder on hers. He loosened the silver clip in her hair and let her curls tumble around her shoulders.

She sighed, almost a moan, and capitulated. There’d be no more wondering if Rory had told Davis about them.

With the knowledge and joy swelling in her, she lifted her hand and placed it in his hair above his collar where it grew a little long. Her fingers combed through, teasing the back of his neck.

Let everyone see this and know. Now and forever she wanted Rory, to let the swift current that flowed between them sweep her away. She heard his ragged breath as his promise to take her someplace she’d never dreamed of reaching, a place where they might be joined at the heart.

S
everal hours later, Mariah wasn’t feeling as confident. Sitting cross-legged and naked on the bed with Rory in her apartment, she watched the opening for “On The Spot” come up.

“Here we go,” said Rory. He lounged against the headboard, eating a bowl of spumoni ice cream he’d brought from their dinner at Little Joe’s on Broadway. Mariah shot a glance at the VCR, where she’d inserted the infamous tape to add this to the Sunday night story.

When the hospital parking lot filled the TV screen, Rory sat up straighter.

“This evening, an update on the Grant-Campbell story,” said the voice over. “It looks as though there may be a happy ending after all, as Mariah and Rory visit her father in the hospital. The elder Grant checked in late this afternoon, complaining of chest pain, but is reported to be resting comfortably in a private room.”

“How do they do that?” she asked.

“They’re snakes.”

The commentary continued while the video showed Rory shooting a dirty look at the camera. “It appears the lovers aren’t happy with our roving eye.” The film showed them beside his car on full display for the metropolitan viewing area. The kiss began.

When Rory had taken her in his arms, it had been beautiful. In grainy, poor quality night video, they appeared cheap and shoddy. Like one of those late-night shows where the host wandered the seamy side of the city after the bars closed.

With a sinking feeling, Mariah wished they’d had more sense.

By morning, she was even more upset. “When will this publicity end?” she asked Rory as they dressed, he in his clothing from the day before. Her Victorian bathroom was crowded with the two of them vying for space with a huge bathtub on claw feet.

He paused in the act of buttoning his rumpled dress shirt and looked at her in the mirror over the sink. “It never ends, but I suppose it might ease up when things get settled one way or another.”

She hoped the settlement he spoke of meant some kind of permanent arrangement between them. Last night in bed, Rory had touched her with an intensity that matched her own. More than once during the night, she had nearly told him she loved him, but had held back. As passionate as he was, she sensed some darkness in him; a reluctance to give everything she sensed was inside.

Though they needed to get moving, she to the hospital to meet with her dad and the cardiologist, she wanted to put her arms around Rory and have him hold her once more.

She did not because he was tucking in his shirttail with brusque efficiency, annoyance over the press coverage in his expression.

“This is only the start,” he said. “My leaving DCI will be a bombshell.”

Not just “On The Spot,” but the business sections of several papers and magazines would no doubt run stories on the rift between father and son. Mariah was sure she’d be named as the cause of their estrangement.

Rory borrowed her brush to tame the waves of his hair. She smoothed her black pantsuit that served as armor when she had a tough day planned.

They left her place around six and drove through gray dawn to his townhouse. Mariah made coffee and brought a mug to his home computer, where he was adjusting his résumé to reflect the work he’d done for DCI.

While it printed on thick, creamy paper, Rory sipped from his mug with a thoughtful look. “I didn’t think I’d need another one of these lists of my qualifications, not after I went into the family company.”

Mariah figured that no matter what Davis had done, it must be difficult for a son to make a break with his father.

Rory changed into a gray double-breasted suit and they set out. Running fast against the traffic into the city, they arrived back at Bayview. The sun was fully up, sparking diamonds on the water to the east, and the site was already bustling. Mariah’s car was surrounded by contractor’s vans, pickups, and the small, worn econoboxes the workers afforded on hourly wages. Rory got out of his Porsche and kissed her in front of a group of men who catcalled and whistled.

“Wish me luck.” He held up crossed fingers.

Mariah straightened his bright red interview tie. “Call me as soon as you know something.”

“No matter what, I’ll see you this evening,” he promised. “I hope John’s doctor has good news.”

An hour later, Mariah entered Dr. Heidi Hanover’s office with her father. The stout woman built like a fireplug inspired confidence with her no-nonsense manner. “I’m sorry I was out of pocket last night when you threw us a scare,” she told John.

He gave a tight grin and a shrug. “I got bored sitting around.”

Mariah heard in his voice how he longed to do something useful.

At their last visit, Dr. Hanover had expressed hopes for a complete recovery. This morning she was more guarded. “John, I know you’re raring to get after it, but I’m afraid you’re in for a deal more rest before that happens.”

Mariah put a hand on her father’s arm and felt the muscles tense beneath her fingers. His ears reddened. “I’ve got a company to run!” At least he did until the end of the week.

“This is never easy.” Dr. Hanover spoke in a gentle tone. “Do you think I’ve ever seen a patient who thought it was good time for them to slow down? Now, if you want to get back on your feet, you’ll have to be patient and keep out of the office.”

“I’ve been staying with him,” Mariah put in.

Her father shifted in his seat. “She’s been counting every fat gram that goes into my mouth.”

Dr. Hanover smiled at them both. “One thing for you both to remember. When John decides he’s ready to take care of himself, I think it’s safe to let him. Independence is a crucial issue for him now, especially since he can’t make a contribution in the workplace.” She gave him a serious look. “Just keep your emergency call button close at hand.”

After driving her father home later in the morning, Mariah settled him into his living room recliner and sat down opposite, where she could see the Japanese tapestry that spoke to her of father and daughter. “Do you need me to stay with you?”

“No,” he said irritably, fiddling with the string of the call button around his neck. “You heard the doc and you’ve got work to do saving the company. Without me there, you’ll have to keep in charge.”

There was one trouble with that, and it was in her purse: The tape with the “On The Spot” footage from Sunday, along with the Monday night segment she’d taped while she and Rory sat on her bed. Strange, she thought, that Arnold hadn’t said something when he confronted her and Rory last night at the hospital. Or told her father after they’d gone. But, if he had heard about Sunday night or seen last night’s episode wouldn’t he have mentioned it?

She could go along to the office without revealing her shame, but the time had come.

“Dad … I need to tell you something before I go to work.” Mariah rummaged in her bag for the tape. “Tom, April, none of the managers respect me anymore.”

“Nonsense.” Still restless, John jerked the lever that readjusted the height of his feet.

“No, it’s true. Because of this.” She held up the VCR tape. “Didn’t Arnold tell you about ‘On The Spot?’”

John frowned. “No.”

Mariah set up the tape and pressed play. When the show’s logo came up, her face flushed and she closed her eyes. Yet, she must face this.