Riverstar Page 2

  She looked up, aggravated in an instant, knowing his implication, but wanting him to say it. “What do you mean?”

  “Graham’s the producer of the film. Which means he’ll be here. Isn’t that right?”

  She flushed and turned her gaze back to the glass in her hands. “Unfortunately, that’s right. He doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. That’s the truth, Ben.”

  “Okay.”

  She took a sip of her drink, watching him over the rim of the glass. “I’ll be staying here at Drake’s.”

  “I figured.” His eyes widened slightly.

  She smiled and used her saucy voice. “You can’t get away from me even if you try.” Damn him, anyway. There was no reason she couldn’t flirt. Make him remember how hot it had been between them.

  “Oh, is that how it’s going to be?” He grimaced, rubbing under his eye with a circular motion.

  “What?”

  “All flirty and tempting before you disappear again with no warning?”

  She took a step backward, gripping the side of the glass with her now damp palm. “Is that what you think I did?”

  “Bella, it is what you did. And in the words of Maya Angelou, ‘when people show you who they are, believe them the first time.’”

  Her voice went higher, defensive. “That isn’t who I am. I had some unfinished business.”

  “Yep. I get it. You weren’t available. Too busy giving it all up for a married man. Brilliant move.”

  His anger surprised her but she felt it too, hot in her chest. What gave him the right to judge her? “Glass houses, huh, Ben? Must be nice to be so morally superior. If I remember right, you weren’t exactly holding back that night in your pursuit of me. And you didn’t exactly ask my situation.”

  “Guess I figured you were free when you fell into bed without pause. Especially given everything else we talked about that night. You know, our dreams for the future, your business idea, my love of fly-fishing. The difficult relationship I have with my distant yet controlling father. My flaky younger brother who smokes too much pot. My engagement that ended abruptly. Your grief over your niece and sister-in-law. How much you still miss your mom. Your fear of heights. Jesus, Bella, you told me every detail about your idiot father hanging you over the side of a building when you were three but you couldn’t tell me about the long affair you’d just ended with a married man? It’s not like we just talked about frivolous, meaningless stuff, Bella. I thought it meant something to you. I thought you were free.”

  She stared at him, the anger in her throat now. “It did. I was. Free that is. Crap, Ben, it was complicated. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have. I see that now.”

  His question came fast, like he was spewing without thought. “Bella, what were you doing with him? Three years?”

  “It was a mistake.”

  “A long one.” His face was pink. He pulled at the collar of his shirt.

  “I’ve beaten myself up enough over this. No need for you to do it, too.” Her voice caught; a lump had formed at the back of her throat.

  “I have a low tolerance for cheaters. And you deserve better,” he added, softer.

  “I know that.”

  “Do you?” He cocked his head to the side, staring at her with what could only be described as skepticism. “Will you remember that while you’re seeing him every day on set?”

  “I’ve been doing the work, Ben.”

  “The work?”

  “Therapy.”

  “Good for you.”

  He sounded so bitter, she almost gasped. “It’s no coincidence I fell for Graham three months after Chloe and Esther were killed. I’m sure you can imagine how this might happen.”

  “Yes,” he said, his face transforming into something less shielded but more pained.

  Neither said anything for a long moment. The light was fading now and a breeze had come to the mountain, bringing the scent of Drake’s late September roses. The scent of roses had been there the first time Ben had kissed her. Did he remember? “Where’s your date?” asked Bella, both as a way to break the silence and to keep herself from asking him about the roses.

  “In the house.” He leaned against the tree, taking another swallow of his champagne. “She’s not really a date.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m not dating her. She’s just my date here. For the wedding,” he added, as if that weren’t implied.

  “How old is she, anyway?”

  He smiled for the first time. “That bugging you? You hate it because you’re not the most attractive woman at the party?” Despite the smile, there was more than just a hint of spite.

  “Wow. That wasn’t nice,” she said, fighting tears as she swallowed the last of her champagne. She needed another glass. Pronto. And it was true. The girl was pretty, even though she looked remarkably like a Barbie doll, and it bothered Bella. A lot.

  His face softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” His voice sounded husky and tender now, like the night they’d spent together. “Anyway, you are the prettiest girl at this party. At any party.”

  Like she’d just been wrapped in a soft blanket, she went warm with pleasure. Have the courage to tell the truth, she instructed herself. “Ben, I’m finished with Graham. Have been since the moment I went back to Los Angeles. The truth is, you got under my skin. Big time. And I’m sorry for how we left things. It was my fault. Totally my fault. I was confused and, well, it was just bad timing. I’d love to try again.” She paused, watching the bubbles in his glass of champagne. Even his hands were sexy: close cropped nails, thin tufts of dark blond hair on his wrists and knuckles. She shivered, remembering the way he’d moved his hands over her body, the way he’d gripped her hips, how lightly he’d touched her breasts. “I’m going to be here. Working on the film. We could start over.” She moved her gaze to his face, hoping to see a clue to his thoughts, but he was looking toward the house with the same veiled look in his green eyes. “There was a real connection between us. Right? You felt it too?”

  “I did.” His voice was muffled, subdued. “Like nothing I’d felt before.”

  She filled with hope. Perhaps there was a chance. Annie was right. Just be open, tell him the truth. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

  He met her gaze then, reaching out and touching her bare arm with the tips of his fingers. There it was, the undeniable spark, like something alive between them. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you either.” He withdrew his hand, looking up at the sky and then back at her. “But Bella, you’re bad news—a heartbreak waiting to happen. And I can’t go through another one. I won’t survive.”

  “Because of what happened with your fiancé?”

  “Yes.” He rolled his glass between his hands and spoke as if relaying someone else’s story instead of his own. “I was engaged to her for three years. A week before the wedding I found out she was in love with my cousin, who was like a brother to me. We grew up together. Close. It wrecked my world. I couldn’t function. Almost lost my job. If it hadn’t been for your brother’s grace I would’ve. I cannot possibly go through something like that again. I had a little taste of it that morning you left. Took me weeks to get past it and start breathing again. So, no, Bella. Just no.”

  With that he turned and strode across the grass to the deck.

  Bella felt the pain in her chest, hard and bitter and hollow. She sat on the swing, fighting tears. Well, screw you, Ben Fleck. If you’re stupid enough to walk away from this, then it’s just your loss. But her bravado was only a trickle, a small glimmer of anything true. She wanted to bury her face in her hands and weep. But she would not. Not on this day, of all days. Her brother, finally, had found happiness with a sweet and beautiful girl. This was to be celebrated. She could weep later, alone in her room, like she’d done all her life.

  CHAPTER ONE

  ON A MID-AFTERNOON during the second week of October, Bella arrived in River Valley. As she entered the city limits she s
lowed her Mini Cooper, an extravagant thirty-first birthday gift from Gennie. The population sign still said 1420 but it didn’t seem so today. Hollywood had invaded. The main street bustled with people. There was a new coffee shop two businesses up from Riversong and people milled about outside or sat in classic wooden Adirondack chairs lined up against the building, talking in the crisp autumn afternoon, steam rising from coffee cups. Linus’s inn displayed a No Vacancy sign. In the distance, perched on the side of one of the mountains overlooking the river, was the River Valley Resort and Lodge. She could see from their full parking lot they were probably at full capacity as well. The grocery store, which only months before seemed almost empty with mostly canned goods and a row of limp produce, now had vegetables, fruit, and flowers in attractive displays outside the front entrance. Through the window she saw gourmet cheeses and a deli. Several women were gathering flowers in their arms.

  The sidewalks were now red brick; old-fashioned street lamps lined the sidewalks; and every storefront was painted in light brown, with muted red trim and blue awnings. Hanging flowerpots spilling over with mums and other autumn foliage hung from doors and rafters. Benches were strategically placed on each block, and there was a fountain and a small park between two of the older buildings right in the middle of the main street.

  She drove out of town and across the valley, passing barren fields, empty of their summer bounty, oaks and maples vibrant with autumn colors, until she reached the gate of her brother’s home, perched on the side of a mountain. Using the gate code, she turned her car into Drake’s long driveway and then parked in her usual spot near the guesthouse. Annie ran across the yard and had grabbed her into a tight hug before she could even close the car door. “Bella, I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Me too.” The two women held one another, jumping up and down for a few seconds before stepping back to observe the other. Annie, petite and fair with wild blond curls, didn’t have her usual peach flush. There were gray smudges under her eyes. She wore no makeup.

  Annie tugged on a strand of curls. “I’m sorry I look like such a mess. I didn’t have time to clean up yet today. It’s been a weird morning.” She took Bella’s hand, guiding her inside. “Drake went to fetch Alder from school but they’ll be here in a bit. It’ll give us time to get you settled.”

  Drake and Annie’s home was something out of a magazine. Designed by Drake’s late wife in the rustic ski lodge style, it blended into the mountain as if it had always been there despite being 9,200 square-feet, using rustic wood and river rock for the exterior. Inside it had the same American West feel combined with an urban refinement of muted designer furniture and sophisticated rugs and art.

  They headed to the guest suite, which had been custom designed for Bella, Drake ever hopeful she might come live with him, as if she weren’t an adult. “Is Ben still in the guest house?” Bella asked, keeping her voice casual.

  Annie opened the curtains in the bedroom. The October light was soft in the room of tan and blue. “Yes. He’s been in and out, working some weeks in Seattle and some here. I’m not sure when he’ll be here next. Probably this week. The call center officially opened last week so we’ve barely seen him.” She plumped a pillow on one of the easy chairs. Particles from the cotton pillow floated in the streaks of sunlight. “Are you going to be all right with him being here?”

  “Of course. I’ll be busy.” She went to the window so Annie wouldn’t see the hurt on her face. The ache of regret and loss and rejection was in her stomach, like physical pain. Each time it came like a wave she couldn’t escape, washing over her, pulling her under, slamming her face into the sand.

  “The call center’s employing over two hundred people. Isn’t that incredible?” asked Annie.

  It was, of course. But here was the pang again. Ben had been here in River Valley without her, building the call center in a town she felt was her own and yet she didn’t get to be part of his life. When they’d been together last summer he’d told her all about Hylink’s strategy to build call centers in the U.S., targeting small towns with high unemployment rates as locations. Ben was a Vice President, in charge of finding appropriate locations and subsequently building the centers and hiring and training personnel. He and Drake had known one another for fifteen years, having worked together in Seattle, and when Ben had called to ask about River Valley as a possible location, Drake had immediately asked him to come for a visit. Once here, Ben quickly agreed it was the perfect location for the new call center.

  “Have you thought any more about your makeup line?” Annie asked this a little too casually, following Bella to the window.

  “I went to the chemistry company I told you about.” Bella moved the curtain closer to the sill.

  “And?”

  “They’re ready when I’m ready. I don’t know if it’s the right time.”

  “Drake will invest. You know that, right?”

  “I know. But I have to be sure it won’t fail before I let him do that.”

  Annie peered at her for a moment, her sweet face tilted to one side. But she left it alone. Bella was grateful for this small yet significant act of kindness. Sometimes a person needed to know when to talk and when to be quiet. Annie was someone who understood both. She turned away and opened the top drawer of the bureau. “Need help unpacking?”

  “Sure.” Bella opened the first of her suitcases and handed a stack of sweaters to Annie. She tossed panties and bras into the top drawer of the bureau, thinking of her dream to start her own makeup line. Covering the desk at her apartment in Venice were hundreds of sketches for her cosmetic line. She had entire collections based on different women’s coloring, everything from the fairest blond to the darkest brunette. For the darker woman was “Venice Beach”—bright oranges and reds and blues inspired by the art sold along the boardwalk and graffiti on the walls of the buildings here. Her latest collection, called “Oregon,” was well-suited to a woman with fair, peaches-and-cream skin like Annie—hues of greens and browns and the pinks and reds in Drake’s rose garden. For Annie’s friend Lee, a redhead with skin the color a porcelain plate, there was the “Malibu” collection—eye shadows in pale gray and various shades of tan and almost translucent pinks for the lips and cheeks.

  Bella used pastels mixed with one another until she found just the right color. Someday she would give all of this to the chemist and they would create the actual product. When she was ready. If she was ever ready.

  She sighed, tossing several pairs of shoes into the closet as Annie put her toiletries bag in the bathroom. Why couldn’t she be more like Drake? He hadn’t hesitated to develop his idea and now he was a billionaire. And her best friend Gennie? She’d pursued an acting career despite the incredible odds of making a living at it, let alone reaching the status she’d achieved. But they were different than she. They were fearless, undaunted by the odds.

  During a moment of vulnerability in the first months of their heady affair, she’d confessed to Graham she might like to start her own makeup line. She’d done some research, she told him, and had chosen a chemical company that could make the products if she had the capital to invest. He’d encouraged her to ask her brother for the money. But what if it didn’t work? she’d argued. Then she’d have wasted her brother’s money over what was probably a ridiculous dream. How many makeup lines were there already? What would make hers any better?

  When she’d broken it off with Graham, he’d gone into attack mode, bringing up one of the sorest discussion points between them: her business idea. “It’s like you never grew up from the scared, sad little girl your own father hung over the side of a building. Always in limbo like you were that day. You can’t go back and you can’t jump. You’re a scared little girl, Bella, who puts makeup on women’s faces for a living. Is this really all you want to be?”

  In an act of the utmost maturity, she’d flipped him the finger and stormed out of his office.

  Now, Annie interrupted her thoughts
. “Well, I can’t wait to meet Genevieve. Drake says she’s lovely.”

  “She is. I’ve missed her so much. After her divorce from Moody she decided to take that job filming in Colombia for six months. I was worried she was going to get carried away by some wild animal or something.” Genevieve Banks was one of the highest paid actresses in the business but she was also just a regular girl. Sweet Gennie was a small-town girl from Wisconsin, raised by a single mother, as Bella and Drake had been. Despite her fame, she was the type of girl who understood how to be a girlfriend; she didn’t judge or lecture or try to steal your boyfriend even though she could have. They’d bonded immediately during their first jobs in the business ten years earlier. Adults raised poor could smell it in others, like a secret club. Oh, yes, I know what it’s like to do without, to wear shoes until your toes poked through, to never see your mother buy herself a new dress, to carry your house key in your backpack because your mother was at work and you had to let yourself in, the thrill when you found a pair of jeans that look like new on the rack at Goodwill.

  The miniseries they worked on was an awful piece; they’d laughed recently about the terrible script. And the actors? Some of the worst Bella had ever seen before or since. “Only good part was the costumes,” Genevieve had said as they walked arm-in-arm on the beach. “And meeting you, Bellie.” Regardless, it had given them both an entry into an almost impossible business. And now, Genevieve was an Oscar-nominated actress.

  Annie closed the top drawer of the bureau. “Linus is hell bent on keeping them sheltered from the press while they’re here. He has the back entry all set up for her and Stefan.”

  “I heard. And that’s so Linus.” Bella went to the closet and pulled out several wooden hangers.

  Annie yawned and then brushed a stray feather, which had broken loose from the down comforter, from her jeans. “I have a surprise for you.”

  “You do?”