The Morning After (15 page)

Cara felt a flush heat her cheeks. “I read
Edge of Night
, it’s a great book.”

Juliet smiled. “I’m so glad you liked it, dear.” She patted Cara’s hand.

“I actually couldn’t put it down,” Cara confessed.

“Between us,” Juliet whispered, “Stephen is really keen to have Ethan for the lead. And now I’ve met him, I can see why.”

Warmth spread through Cara’s chest. Ethan had been in danger of being typecast as an action hero, playing against type would be great for his career. And
Edge of Night
was such a powerful story. With Stephen Brightman involved, the movie would definitely be a blockbuster.

“Where do you think it will be filmed?” The story was set in Ireland, but Cara knew enough about film making to realize that many factors were involved in bringing a work to the screen.

“Stephen says we’ll have a look at Ireland and some other European locations too,” Juliet said. “There are a lot of considerations.”

Cara accepted two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, and handed one to her companion. She clinked her glass against Juliet’s. “Here’s to a wonderful movie.”

Juliet looked across the room, and smiled. “Ah, here they come.”

Stephen Brightman was a fascinating man. Lean and wiry, with a graying beard, and glasses, his enthusiasm for books and film was infectious, and after a few star-struck moments, Cara relaxed and abandoned her natural shyness as they talked about books.

She and Ethan had switched positions, and every so often she heard Juliet’s laugh as Ethan charmed her.

“You’re very knowledgeable,” Stephen said. “It’s very refreshing to just talk writing. So often, I’m being ‘pitched’.” His mouth curled. “Everyone has an agenda, a project that they’re trying to get me to have a look at.” He eyed her carefully, then grinned. “Don’t tell me you’ve written a screenplay—just don’t.”

Cara grinned back. “I haven’t.” She tilted her head to the side. “Although I’m beginning to think that maybe I’ve missed an opportunity. I could have bored you silly with talk of it tonight.”

Stephen laughed. “So, Ethan tells me you’re a teacher.”

Cara’s stomach dived. “I was. But after all the stuff in the papers back home…” She squared her shoulders. “I’m guess I’m what you’d call
resting
, right now.”

Stephen nodded. “The press can be a bitch. I’ve had my share of it.” He squeezed her arm. His gaze met hers over the top of the glasses perched on his nose. “So, what should I be considering for future projects—have you read anything good recently?”

He seemed genuinely interested.

“Well, apart from Juliet’s book, I have read a couple of really powerful books that would make great films,” Cara said slowly. She mentioned a couple of titles.

Stephen reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white card. “Could you do me up a couple of summaries? Tell me why you think they’d be good for me to look at?”

Cara slipped his card into her purse. “I thought you didn’t want to be pitched.”

“Honey.” Stephen leaned close and whispered. “If you like them as a reader, that’s a completely different thing than pitching me a project you’re involved with. I’m always looking for impartial opinions. They mean a lot more than pitches.”

A tall woman walked over and spoke to him quietly.

Stephen waved to a couple across the room. “I have to go and greet a couple of my guests. I look forward to your email.”

****

Stephen interested her. Ethan could tell by the way she smiled at the older man, and when he’d leaned close and whispered something in her ear, and placed a card in her hand, jealousy clutched at Ethan’s throat. It had been a struggle to concentrate on Juliet’s words. To act as though all was well.

Now, as he swirled Cara around the room, he tried to let it go, block out the familiar feeling of distrust. Cara wasn’t Aoife. Not by a long shot.

“Stephen gave me his card,” she said, staring up into his face.

“I noticed.” Ethan’s hand slid across her back, feeling her body’s heat beneath the beaded surface.

She smiled, as if unaware of the tumult roiling inside him. “He’s very clever, isn’t he? We were talking about books.” Her eyes went dreamy as she spoke about her favorite subject. “I’ve read a couple of great ones recently that I told him I thought would make great movie projects. He asked me to send him summaries of them.”

Relief kicked. But still wariness lingered. “Surely he has people to do that.”

Cara grinned. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But he said he’d appreciate a reader’s viewpoint. He says it’s difficult to get an unbiased opinion.”

Her lips brushed against his neck in a featherlike caress. Ethan pulled her close. “I think it’s time to leave.”

Chapter Seventeen

Their final days together flew. Long days spent on the beach and in the sea, followed by long nights of passionate lovemaking. There was no more talk of the future. Cara seemed happy with the present. She’d been through so much, and their relationship was so new Ethan forced himself to hold back, to give her space and time.

On their last night together, they dined again at the little restaurant facing the sea.

The waiter brought coffee, and left them alone. “I’m going to miss you,” Cara whispered. “And all of this.”

Ethan bit back his instinctive response. His fingers tightened around the small white cup. “There’s always the telephone. We can still talk.” He sipped the hot liquid, feeling the burn against his tongue, and glad of the distraction. “We’re friends, right?”

It wasn’t fair to her to ask for anything more. She obviously didn’t want it, didn’t need him as much as he burned for her. It was his fault he’d fallen in love, not hers. And he’d promised that nothing would damage their friendship. Talking to her, being her friend, would hurt like hell, but he owed it to her to at least try.

“Right.” Her hair brushed against her cheek as she looked down at the table. Candlelight played across her features, lighting a gleam on her lips. Her dark eyelashes dusted across her cheekbones.

Ethan breathed in, analyzing the air for a trace of her scent. Nothing. Tomorrow, even the scent of her would be gone.

Her eyelashes flickered upward, and his heart thundered at the pain evident in her blue eyes.

“My family means a lot to me, Ethan. I have to see them, have to explain…”

Ethan jerked his head in a terse nod. “My parents meant a lot to me too, Cara. I know you have to see them.” If he’d been there he would have known his father had surrendered once again to the bottle’s lure. Would have been able to make sure his mother never climbed into a car turned into a lethal weapon by the driver’s drunkenness.

As always, Cara read his unspoken words. “It wasn’t your fault.” Her hand covered his on the table. “No one knew. No one but your mother realized he’d been drinking that night. Sean—”

“Don’t.” He turned his hand over and clutched her fingers.

“I want to come back.”

Ethan’s heart clenched. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “It’s better if you don’t.” He couldn’t guarantee her life with him would be gossip-free, she hated the spotlight. Scandal had brought them together and expanded their relationship into something more. She didn’t love him, not really. She was so attuned to him that she was offering to come back to soothe him, as a friend would.

And the last thing he would accept was her pity. He pulled his hand away, and stood. “Let’s go home.” For the last time. The pain within would only intensify if he didn’t cauterize his wounded heart. Dragging things out would only delay the healing—cause him more pain.

It was over.

Chapter Eighteen

Every day for the past three weeks, the sun had shone in Donabridge. Cara barely noticed. Without Ethan by her side, in her life, the days might have well have been filled with grey rain.

She’d spoken to her family. Explained the lies and half-truths that had plagued her since that day in the fair. But held back one piece of the truth for herself. That she loved Ethan. And wanted to give up everything she knew to go back to Malibu and be with him.

It’s better if you don’t
. His softly said words echoed in her memory. She’d waited for days that had stretched into weeks for a call from him. A call to tell her he’d reconsidered, and was willing to try again. But the call never came. As each day passed without word from him, a dull ache settled in the region of her heart.

She wanted to call him, wanted more than anything to talk things through. He’d said he loved her once, but he couldn’t if he wasn’t willing to give them a try. The worst thing was that without him, she’d lost the one person she could open her heart to.

Loneliness dragged through her like a violin string over a stretched bow. She wandered to the wardrobe, and flicked through her clothes for something to wear. She’d finally given in to Suz’s pestering and agreed to go out to the pub with her tonight.

“You can’t stay in forever,” Suz had pleaded. “Come on, you’ll feel better. I promise.”

With any luck Cara could deflect Suz’s questions. Avoid talking about the pain that swirled inside. The first week she’d been back, she busied herself writing summaries and recommendations she’d sent to Stephen, but now the days stretched out before her in a mind-numbing wasteland with nothing to give her any hope for the future.

Cara took a purple silk shirt and pair of tailored black trousers from the wardrobe. Going out couldn’t hurt. The distraction might even help.

****

Ethan’s feet pounded the sand in a regular rhythm. He breathed in the salt air, hearing the splash of waves as they hit against the rocks just offshore, before swirling in semi-circular slices of foam topped water on the sandy shore.

The days of filming were ancient history, but try as he might, he couldn’t banish thoughts of the small blonde from his head, no matter how he ran to escape the memories.

Each night, his dreams returned unerringly to her. The way she smiled, the way she smelled, the way her lips felt under his.

The beach house came into view. Ethan picked up the pace and sprinted toward it. He didn’t trust himself to call her. Not yet. If he heard her voice, he was afraid his control would abandon him, and he’d beg her to return. Tell her once again how he loved her, and couldn’t bear the empty life that had become his since she left. Putting a friend in such a position wasn’t fair. But holding back was taking every last inch of his resolve.

As he walked up the steps, the telephone rang from inside. He took the last steps two at a time, and reached it before it stopped ringing, heart pounding with the hope it was Cara.

“Ethan?”

Sean’s voice. Ethan clamped his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. His brother’s constant updates weren’t helping either. Why on earth Sean thought Ethan needed to know that Cara was losing weight and looking pale was beyond him. “Hi.” He forced himself to sound relaxed. “How’s it going?”

“I’m ringing about Cara.”
So, what else was new?
No doubt Sean thought a phone call or a visit would change things.

Despite himself, Ethan couldn’t help the words that sprang to his lips. “Is she alright?”

Silence stretched for long moments.

“She was in the pub last night…”

Ethan gripped the phone tightly. His heart pounded in his chest like a jackhammer. The last time Sean had said those words, their lives had been irrevocably altered. Their parents were dead. Ethan struggled for words. “Is she…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Sean’s rapid intake of breath was loud enough for Ethan to hear. “She’s not hurt. She’s not dead. God, Ethan, I’m sorry man, I didn’t think…”

Ethan’s heart jumped at Sean’s words. “What? Tell me.”

“A journalist walked in and claimed Cara assaulted him. I have to bring her in for questioning. I thought you better know, because it’s in the morning papers.”

Assault? Cara?
Ethan sank down on the nearest chair. “That’s crazy, why on earth would Cara assault anyone? You know she doesn’t fit the profile, Sean. There’s no way…”

“I spoke to a witness, her friend Suz.”

Ethan pushed his hair back. He still hadn’t cut it, despite the movie’s end. She’d liked it long, and somehow cutting it was another reminder that their affair was over.

“Anyway, Suz said she’d finally dragged Cara out of the house for a drink at the pub, and a journalist started pestering Cara about you, about your relationship.”

Ethan’s hand clenched into a fist.

“Apparently Cara took it well, and didn’t lose her cool until he started in on how you were a heartbreaker, with a reputation for lovin’ them and leavin’ them. That got her back up, and she denied it.” Sean blew out a breath. “Then he made the mistake of calling you a tough bastard. That’s when she punched him.”

“She…”

“She punched him. Broke his nose.” Sean’s voice was tinged with admiration. “She’s one hell of a woman. Unfortunately a photographer snapped the whole thing, and I have to take action.”

Ethan stood. “She hates publicity, her reputation…”

“She knew the photographer was there, Ethan,” Sean said flatly. “Cara doesn’t give a damn about publicity any more. She’s found something she cares for a whole lot more than what people think.”

“I’m coming.” Ethan hung up, and strode to the bedroom to pack.

****

Cara sat in the interview room of Donabridge Station, and eyed the polystyrene cup Sean had just placed in front of her. She picked it up, and took a careful sip. Just as suspected, hot, black, and horrible.

She placed it back on the table a safe distance away. “Do you need to read me my rights?”

Sean shook his head. “I just need to get the facts, Cara. From your viewpoint. He hasn’t brought charges.” His voice deepened. “Yet. So. What happened?”

She felt more alive than she had in weeks. And liberated too. Her picture was in the local paper again, and this time, she couldn’t claim the words accompanying the picture were lies. This time, however, she felt no dread, no worry. Just pride that she’d stopped the words of that worm of a journalist.