Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(106)

“You raped her.”

“No!” For the first time Sawyer’s anger flared, and his eyes narrowed. “You can believe a lot of things about me, Denton, but don’t you ever believe that. What happened between us is none of your damned business, but I’ll tell you this—there wasn’t any force involved.”

Bobby Tom felt sick. He didn’t want to think about his mother that way under any circumstances. But much worse, he couldn’t abide the idea that she had willingly given herself to Sawyer, not when she was married to his dad, not while Hoyt Denton’s memory was still alive.

As abruptly as it had erupted, Sawyer’s anger seemed to fade. “There wasn’t any force involved, but it was too soon for her, and I knew it. She still loves your father very much; he was a hell of a man, and I can’t blame her for that. But he’s not here anymore, and I am. She’s lonely. She wants to care about me, too, except she won’t let herself, and I think it’s mainly because of you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re the most important person in her life, and she’d cut off her arm before she hurt you.”

“I want you to stay away from her.”

Sawyer regarded him with open hostility. “I hope you’ve figured out that I haven’t spilled my guts to you because I’m some kind of a masochist. I don’t like you very much—as far as I can tell, you’re a selfish bastard—but I’m hoping I’m wrong. I’m hoping you’ve got more of your father in you than I can see right now. I’ve been honest with you because I’m praying for a miracle here. Without your approval, she and I don’t have a chance.”

“There aren’t going to be any miracles.”

He was a proud man, and there was no entreaty in his voice. “All I want is a level playing field, Bobby Tom. I just want a fair chance.”

“You want my f*cking blessing!”

“You’re the only one who can take away her guilt.”

“That’s too bad, then, because I’m not going to do it!” He jabbed his finger at Sawyer’s chest. “I’m warning you. Leave my mother alone, if you so much as look in her direction, you’re going to regret it.”

Sawyer gazed at him with hard, unflinching eyes.

Bobby Tom turned on his heel and rushed from the room, breathing so hard he had to stop and compose himself at the top of the stairs. He was right about this; he knew it. Sawyer had hurt his mother and, no matter what, he had to keep that from happening again.

One of his old teammates hailed him, and he found himself drawn back into the crowd that was gathering around the bar. He went from one group to another, slapping backs and trading war stories as if he didn’t have a care in the world, but as he greeted old friends, he kept glancing toward the door trying to catch sight of Gracie, needing her to steady him after his encounter with Sawyer. What in the hell was keeping her? He fought back the crazy impulse to run out into the parking lot and look for her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sawyer standing near the bar talking with Luther, and not long after he spotted his mother on the opposite side of the room chatting with several of her friends. She looked as if she were having a good time, but she was too far away to know for sure. He thought about going with her as soon as the filming was over on that cruise she’d been talking about. He couldn’t imagine enjoying a cruise, but he liked being with his mother, and it would be good for her to get away. Gracie could come along, too, so he wouldn’t go stir-crazy shut up on a ship, and the three of them would have a great time. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea, and he could feel his mood lifting.

It abruptly shattered as he watched his mother’s gaze fall on Way Sawyer. Instantly, her eyes filled with sadness and a longing so sharp that he could barely stand to watch. Sawyer turned and saw her, and whatever he’d been about to say to Luther was forgotten. Sawyer’s face softened with an emotion that some subconscious part of Bobby Tom knew well, but didn’t want to name.

The seconds ticked by. Neither Way nor Suzy moved toward the other. Finally, they turned away in unison, as if they’d reached their tolerance for pain.





22




Gracie stopped just inside the door of the clubhouse’s smaller dining room, where the cocktail party was in full swing. As well-built athletes and beautiful women swirled around her, she felt for a moment as if she’d been swept back to the night she’d met Bobby Tom. Although there was no hot tub in sight, she recognized some of the same people and the atmosphere was just as festive.

Her old navy blue suit added to her sense of déjà vu, and because she’d grown to love her more flattering clothes, it seemed even more dowdy and oversize than it had that night. She’d also donned her sensible black pumps, scrubbed her face free of makeup, and scraped her hair back with a pair of utilitarian bobby pins. For tonight, anyway, she simply hadn’t been able to make herself over into Bobby Tom’s image of her, no matter how much she’d loved that image. She especially hadn’t been able to wear the black cocktail dress she’d planned to dazzle him with. Instead, she’d stripped herself down to the person she’d been before he’d played Pygmalion with her life.

He would never know how difficult it had been for her to show up tonight, and only the fact that she always lived up to her responsibilities had forced her to come. He hadn’t seen her yet. He was deep in conversation with a glamorous blond-haired beauty who reminded Gracie of Marilyn Monroe in her heyday. A bit older than Bobby Tom, she wore a spectacular formfitting silver dress slit to mid-thigh, and Bobby Tom was regarding her with such open affection that Gracie felt her chest grow tight. This was exactly the sort of woman he would marry someday, a woman sprinkled with the same stardust that made him so much larger than life.