Sara's Song (3 page)

Sara watched him trot around to the driver’s side and climb in. “Nice car,” she said as he shut the door.

“Well, it’s not new like yours…” He teased her with a wink, and turned the key in the ignition. The engine rumbled to life.

“Your car is better than mine,” she said. “1963 Stingray. The only year that featured the split rear window.”

“How’d you know that?” He looked at her with smiling eyes that said he was impressed.

“You’d be surprised at the things I know.” She laughed a little, feeling elated that she had impressed Clay. She looked back at him. “I’d like to photograph you and the car.”

“Me?” he asked warily.

“Sure, why not?” She ran her hand admiringly over the dashboard. “This is a great machine.”

Sara knew a half a dozen magazines she could sell the photographs to, but that could bring attention to her. She didn’t want that. She’d just do a layout for Clay. It’d be a nice thank-you gift for everything he’d done for her.

C
lay took Sara to a little Mexican restaurant in Fresno that was more suited to locals than tourists.

The hostess seated them at a booth in the back near an indoor fountain. Sara ordered a strawberry margarita. Clay a beer, Corona. While they perused the menu and waited for their drinks, Sara dug into her purse and pulled out a hand full of coins and offered Clay a penny.

He took it. “What’s this for?”

“Make a wish and throw it into the fountain.” She went silent and looked at the fountain for a moment, then tossed in the coin.

Clay wondered what she’d wished for. She raked her shoulder-length blonde hair behind her ear and looked at him eagerly, waiting for him to follow suit. Clay didn’t know why he didn’t just toss the coin into the fountain and tell her he’d made a wish. He wasn’t in the habit of making wishes, especially not ones that required tossing a coin into a fountain. Even so, he found himself silently wishing that Sara wouldn’t turn out to be like Meredith. After that, giving the coin an underhanded toss into the fountain seemed like the thing to do.

Moments later, the waitress delivered their drinks. Sara’s brown eyes brightened as she sipped hers. The girl was gorgeous beyond words. She had the face of an angel, and it was framed by these silky blonde strands of hair that he wanted to knot up in his hands—

Whoa! Easy there, big fella!
He coached himself not to get too carried away by this girl. He didn’t even know her. Not really.

The waitress stopped at their table and stood over them. Her presence pulled Clay out of his private thoughts. “Are you ready to order?” the waitress asked.

For dinner, Sara chose a seafood enchilada plate, and Clay decided on the steak fajitas.

After the waitress walked away, Clay grabbed his beer and looked deep into Sara’s eyes. “So, Sara...what brings you to our little hideout here in the mountains?” He found himself falling back into her sea of intrigue. She was temptingly beautiful and mysterious, and Clay wanted to know why she was here. “Surely you could’ve gotten a job in a more prominent city, like L.A. or New York. Either one would’ve paid better.”

“Sure, New York or L.A. would’ve paid more, but those are hectic lifestyles.” Sara shrugged. “And I’m just not interested in that. I’m looking for quiet and laid back.”

“Well, you’ve found that here.”

“Have you lived here all your life?”

“Mostly.” Clay nodded. “I went away to college. Thought I’d chase the bright lights for a while. That didn’t work out so well.”

“Oh...?” She sipped her drink and eyed him curiously.

He’d probably said too much. He was usually good about avoiding that sort of thing, but Sara had a way of making him want to chat with her, tell her everything about his life before her.

Most women, whether they followed football or not, knew who Clay was. Well, the American ones, anyway. He’d been on the list of
Modern California
magazine’s most eligible bachelors all four years he’d played in the NFL.

Since he’d met Sara he couldn’t tell if she knew who he was or not, but he quickly decided that her being from England probably meant that she didn’t.

For once, Clay realized that with Sara he didn’t have to worry about why she liked him. Of course, in this instance, it might’ve had something to do with the fact that he’d saved her life, but at least it wasn’t because of his former pseudo-celebrity status. He’d fallen into that trap before and it hadn’t turned out well.

He’d tell her about it someday, just not today.

C
lay seemed to be getting antsy. The last thing Sara wanted was to make him uncomfortable. When she decided to come to America she’d told herself that she wouldn’t get involved with anyone, but she’d only enforced that rule upon herself because she didn’t want a repeat of Kirk Bronson. But Clay couldn’t be more different than Kirk. Clay was a small town guy with a regular job. He led a simple life and he liked it. Wasn’t that what Sara was looking for?

In that moment Sara decided to see where this attraction between herself and Clay might take them.

The waitress brought their dinners, and she vowed not to ask him anything too personal tonight. He’d tell her his secrets when he was ready.

She cut into her food, and asked, “So how long have you been a firefighter?” She looked up at him. “That is the correct term, right?”

He nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. “About ten years. I went away to school and came back to Fireside when I was twenty-five.” He paused, loading a tortilla with steak and fajita fixings. “How old are you, Sara?”

Having just been told that he was roughly thirty-five, Sara had no qualms about saying, “I’m twenty-nine.” That didn’t seem to bother him, and she was glad. She’d often wondered if Kirk had been so taken with Roxanne Simon because she was younger, only by a few years, but every year counts when your husband publicly claims—falsely—to be the father of another woman’s child.

Sara’s single wish was to never live another humiliating moment such as that again. It was a moment that wouldn’t go away. That was the hardest part, and the reason she’d come to this place here, nestled clandestinely in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

“Well...you certainly don’t look twenty-nine.” He winked at her. “I was wondering if you were even twenty-one.”

She knew he was lying, but she didn’t care. He was doing it to please her. Not some other woman. So it was all good. “
You
are very charming,” she said, trying to hang onto what little sanity she had left.

He laughed, and said, “I try.”

They finished their dinners while exchanging idle chit-chat and the occasional flirting banter. When dinner was over and Clay had paid the bill, they headed toward the front of the restaurant.

“So do you think you might like to go with me to the movies tomorrow evening?” He laid his hand at the small of her back, guiding her through the crowd at the restaurant’s entrance. She liked his touch, as casual as it was. She felt like he was somehow protecting her and claiming her all at the same time.

Sara loved the attention she was getting from Clay. “Yes.” She glanced at him, feeling suddenly more attractive and alluring. “I’d like that very much.”

They were interrupted by a passing stranger. Sara knew that Clay didn’t know the man who’d stopped at his side because of the puzzled way Clay had looked at him.

“Clay Darlington, right?” The man pointed at Clay. “Man, you were one of the greatest running backs to play the game.”

This guy was awfully excited about something, but Sara hadn’t a clue what.

“Thank you.” Clay shook his hand. “I don’t get recognized much these days. Out of sight, out of mind.” He laughed it off.

“Are you kidding me?” The guy reached for his wife. “Honey, is your camera in your purse?”

Honey
nodded, looking at Clay with star-struck eyes. Sara had seen that look before, when women gazed at Kirk. But this was ridiculous. Clay was no celebrity...was he?

“Do you mind?” the overzealous fan asked. “I’d love to get a picture with you.”

“Not a problem,” Clay said, then suggested, “here, let’s get the hostess to snap the photo so the ladies can join us in the picture.”

Sara’s heart pounded in her chest and then fell to the floor. A photograph? Really? And who the hell was Clay that some stranger would walk up to him in a restaurant, asking to take a picture with him?

CHAPTER 4

S
ara had clammed up after the picture fiasco. It worried Clay. She’d looked at him and the football-loving fan like they’d lost their minds. Obviously, she hadn’t liked the intrusion, but what could he do? He couldn’t, wouldn’t snub fans of the sport.

He guided his car into the lot at her apartment complex. “Sara…” He shifted into neutral, cut the engine, and turned to her. “I had a wonderful time tonight. Are we still on for the movies tomorrow night?”

Sara gave him a tight-lipped smile and dropped her gaze down to her lap. “I’d really like to.” She shook her head. “You have no idea how much I’d really like to.” She looked back at him. The words coming out of her mouth didn’t match the melancholy expression on her face. “It’s just not a good idea.”

“Why?” Clay asked. “Back at the restaurant…” He dared to go there on the tip of a shaky tongue. “Before the picture…” Once he’d said it, the strength in his voice returned when he added, “You were all for it.”

“Let’s just say that a stranger asking to take a picture with you woke me up.” Sara looked at Clay and frowned. “What did he do that, anyway?”

She was trying hard to understand what was happening. It was time for Clay to come clean, at least about who he used to be. “Ever heard of the NFL?” he asked, and she answered with a blank stare. “Football?”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, yes. We have football in England.”

“No…” He shook his head and tried not to laugh at her. “The Brits play soccer. We Americans play
football
. It’s our national pastime.”

“So…” The word ground out slowly on her gravelly tone. “You’re an athlete?”

“I was.” He nodded. “The key word here being
was
. I’ve been out of that life for ten years.”

She lowered her voice to a whisper when she asked, “And that guy still knows who you are?”

Clay sighed. “Well, it helps that I played on an extraordinary team.” As much as he’d like to take credit where credit was due, Clay got the feeling that the more prominent he appeared to have been during his time in the NFL, the further away it would push Sara from him. And Clay didn’t want that.

She seemed to be thinking deeply, then said, “You said you didn’t play for very long…?” She hadn’t phrased it like a question, but it was.

“My fourth year I sustained a career-ending injury.” Those words used to be so painful that he hadn’t dared speak them for four years following the tragedy. But that was a long time ago. He could say them now with no more emotion than reading a grocery list.

S
ara got the feeling those words had, over the years, caused Clay more pain than he was letting on.

But it didn’t matter. Sara couldn’t let herself forget that the Press was always lurking around every corner, no matter where she was. And if she was discovered here in America, everybody in England would find out about it far too soon to suit her.

“Look…” she said, trying to toughen her tone. Maybe that’d somehow project to him that she meant business. “I like you. I really do. But I don’t need any run-ins with the Press here in the States.”

“What are you hiding from, Sara?”

“Okay. Here’s the deal, and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this to yourself.” She turned to him, waiting for his confirmation. Without it, she wasn’t saying another word. He nodded, and she continued, “I used to be married to…well, to who doesn’t really matter. The point is, that I was married to someone who was a bit of a celebrity in England. It ended badly. A very public betrayal on his part. And the Press fed on it. They just wouldn’t let it go.” It took every ounce of composure she could muster to keep her voice calm while her heart was banging against her chest. “We’ve been divorced for over a year now, and I still couldn’t step foot outside my house in London without some reporter bringing it back, front and center.”

Clay stayed silent for what seemed like forever. When he finally did speak, he gave her a knowing smile. “That’s why you left England, and came here to our quiet little town.” Clay caressed her cheek with a gentle tenderness that sent chills rolling over Sara. She hadn’t felt that way under a man’s touch in a very long time. “You’re looking for some peace of mind.”

She nodded. “So you see why I can’t get involved with you. Not if you’re going to be attracting the Press. It’ll only be a matter of time before they figure out who I am.” She shook her head. “And that’ll only lead to disaster.”

Clay laughed. “Darlin’, I appreciate that you think so highly of me…that you think I could attract the Press in such a manner, but quite frankly it’s just not true. The Press couldn’t care less about me. Most of them don’t even know who I am,” he said in a bit of a melancholy tone, but there was no regret showing on his face. Clearly, Clay had made peace with his demons. “That guy tonight…he was nothing more than a fan.”

“You’re sure?” She wanted to believe it would be okay, and she wouldn’t be discovered here.

“Positive.” He gave her hand a gentle caress. “That doesn’t happen very often.” He shook his head. “Just every once in a while some old-school fan will recognize me.” He was touching her face again. She liked it. “I promise you, you’re safe with me.”

“All right.” She gave in, but still had some lingering doubts and they escaped in her tone. “If you’re sure…”

“To get to you,” he said with a gleam in his eye, “they’ll have to go through me…and everybody else in town.” He gave her an easy nod. “Fireside’s not gonna let the Press bother you.”

The way he said it, the determined look on his face…Sara believed him.

She reached for the car door and asked, “Do you want to come in?”

He studied her for a minute before saying, “Yeah.”

CHAPTER 5

S
ara woke up the next morning wrapped in Clay’s arms. She hadn’t intended to let it get this far, but the way he’d looked at her last night—like there was nobody else in the world but the two of them—and the way he’d vowed to protect her from the Press...Sara couldn’t help herself. And she wasn’t sorry for it this morning, either.