CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE reporters and photographers waiting at the security checkpoint at LAX were taking bets. “I still say he’s gotten rid of her,” a man from the National Enquirer said. “As in six feet under.”
The People reporter sniffed. “Then why go to all this trouble to announce their arrival in L.A.?”
“You ask me,” a cameraman said, “they’re comin’ back together, but she ain’t gonna look too happy about it. I think he’s paid her off. What’s a couple million if it puts you at the top of the box office again?”
An NBC entertainment reporter checked her lipstick for smears in the reflective lens of a camera. “Mark my words,” she said emphatically.
“Alex Rivers is a has-been.” She turned to her colleagues, jostling each other like greyhounds at the gate as the loudspeaker announced the arrival of flight 658 from Denver. “There’s nothing that man can do that will make women drool again. Fact is, no matter what the circumstances were, she left him, which only proves he’s not the sex symbol we all thought.”
In the first-class lounge, Cassie finished diapering Connor. Alex sat across from her, one leg casually crossed over the other at the knee. He held a mug of coffee in his hands. “I’m going to have to learn how to do that,” he said.
Cassie glanced up at him. For the life of her, she couldn’t picture Alex’s hands doing something as mundane as diapering their son. “Now that,” she said, “would make a wonderful press conference.”
Shifting, Alex set down the mug. “You don’t mind, do you?”
He was talking about the reporters who were waiting like vultures to be tossed some carrion. Alex had warned her about the tip to the media when they were somewhere over the Rockies. And of course she’d said she understood—if it was indirectly her fault that Alex’s popularity was suffering in Hollywood, it was her obligation to bolster his image as much as she could. Still, Cassie couldn’t help but remember the first time she’d landed at LAX with Alex, nearly four years earlier, the first time she’d been given a taste of a life devoid of privacy. After so many months at Pine Ridge, it was a difficult adjustment to make.
“I don’t mind,” Cassie said softly. She handed the baby to Alex. “I just wish Connor wasn’t being used as a pawn.”
“I won’t let the flashbulbs hit his eyes, and I won’t let them ask too many questions. I promise.” Alex grinned. “Think of it as his first screen test.”
The door to the private sitting area flew open, and the huge bulk of Michaela Snow filled the threshold. She gave Alex a brilliant smile and then turned to Cassie, raking her over from head to toe. “Good to see you again,” she said coolly, and Cassie froze in the motion of putting the diaper wipes back into the carry-on bag.
“Michaela,” she said, tipping up her face with a genuinely warm smile.
Michaela stared at her for a moment, long enough for Cassie to selfconsciously consider her own shapeless brown shift and worn tennis shoes—a far cry from the fashion statement expected of Alex Rivers’s wife. Michaela turned back to Alex. “You almost ready?”
Cassie felt a chill make its way down her spine as she realized that Michaela’s attitude was a preview of the reception she would receive in Los Angeles, where the majority of people she knew were Alex’s friends and colleagues. In their eyes, Cassie had left Alex. In their eyes, she was the one at fault. They did not know the whole story, of course, but that was exactly where Cassie’s hands were tied. If she defended her own actions by revealing the fact that Alex had beaten his wife, she would only send his reputation into another uproar. Even if she mentioned it in light of his vow to get professional help, she would still be hurting Alex, and that was the one thing she refused to do again.
She glanced up at Alex, who mistook the look on her face for stage fright and tenderly drew her to her feet. “Surely the woman who gave birth alone in the middle of nowhere,” he said softly, “won’t be intimidated by a greedy bunch of reporters.”
“I wasn’t alone,” Cassie said defensively. She reached for Connor and began to strap him into his cradleboard.
Alex turned to Michaela. “We’ll meet you outside in ten minutes.”
As the publicist left, he turned to Cassie. “Why don’t you let me carry that thing,” he said gently, “and you can hold the baby.”
Cassie’s eyes darted to the door Michaela had just exited. She protectively folded her arms over her chest. Was Alex ashamed of her dumpy, functional clothing? Of bringing his child into L.A. in a Sioux artifact? “Connor likes the cradleboard,” Cassie said guardedly, clutching at what had become familiar.
“Connor loves his mother,” Alex said. He looked up at Cassie, his eyes pleading the words he hadn’t said: And I want everyone to see him with you. He waited until Cassie nodded, and then let his breath out in a sigh. He was treading on eggshells, he knew that, but surely Cassie could see the importance of a crowd’s first impression.
Alex gathered up the rest of the bags and slung them over his shoulder. He paused at the door of the lounge to turn to Cassie. “Thank you,” he said softly.
“For what?”
“For what you’re about to do for me. For coming back.”
It was the undisguised emotion in his eyes that made Cassie put her fear aside. She took Alex’s hand and drew a deep breath.
THE ROWS OF BLACK DOTS SWAM BEFORE HER EYES, BUT EVEN AS THE throng of reporters continued to flash pictures and roll their videotapes, Cassie kept a smile pinned to her face and her eyes glued to Alex, as if she were falling in love with him all over again.
“I realize,” Alex was saying coldly, “there’s been a lot of conjecture about the disappearance of my wife.” He looped his arm around her waist. “As you can see, she’s quite alive, which rules out one distasteful theory about me. And as you can also see, she’s been busy. Our son, Connor, was born on August eighteenth.”
The reporter from the Enquirer waved his pen in the air. “Is he yours?”
Alex’s jaw tightened. “I will not stoop to answer that,” he said.
“Then how come your wife ran away?” asked a Variety correspondent.
“She did not run away, I sent her away. We wanted to have a baby in peace, without the world watching over our shoulders.” Alex’s voice dropped dangerously low. “You people lie in wait like animals and make rumors fester until they take precedence over the truth. Did you ever think about the lives of the people you’re ruining? Did you ever think about the kind of damage you’re doing when, in order to guarantee privacy, you force someone to take their family away? My career already makes me a public figure. You don’t have to.” Alex took a step toward the silent group of reporters. “Before you go pleading the first amendment, think about the rest of us who are pleading the fifth.”
Alex turned to Cassie, who recovered from her shock at the quiet vehemence of his speech to give him a reassuring smile. She slipped her arm around his waist and they made their way down the hall, followed only by the sounds of distant, whirring cameras.
Long after they were out of sight, the reporters stood huddled in a group, stunned and chastised. Instead of smashing cameras and pulling rolls of videotape as some stars were wont to do, Alex Rivers had managed to shame them subtly and thoroughly. It was obvious that Alex Rivers hadn’t done anything to harm his wife. It was just as obvious that she was still crazy about him. And set in front of them was the proof—a beautiful little boy with the legacy of Alex Rivers’s silver eyes.
The reporter from NBC gestured to her cameraman and found a quiet place to film her comments. She pulled a compact out of her pocket and smoothed her hair, turning to a UPI representative beside her who was still furiously scribbling down notes. “I’ll be damned,” she said.
“He’s turned himself into a hero again. A hundred million people out there are going to see us as the big bad meddling media, while Alex Rivers and his nuclear family come off as crusaders just trying to be normal, everyday people.”
She shook her head, taking small comfort in the fact that every network was going to be swallowing some humble pie that day, and raised her hand to signal readiness for the camera. She squared her shoulders.
“Tonight at LAX, celebrity Alex Rivers revealed the answer to the mystery involving his wife’s disappearance several months ago. In spite of overwhelming rumors circulated by the media that negatively affected his career in Hollywood, Rivers did not step forward with his wife’s whereabouts, which, apparently, he’d known at all times. Cassandra Barrett Rivers returned to L.A. tonight on her husband’s arm, bringing with her Alex Rivers’s newborn son.” Here the reporter paused meaningfully. “It is a sad fact that in today’s world a star like Alex Rivers would have to endure a false scandal simply to guarantee his family’s privacy,” she said, carefully absolving herself from blame. “One can only hope that if little Connor Rivers decides to follow in his illustrious father’s footsteps, things will be different. This is Marisa Thompson, NBC News.”
CASSIE STOOD IN FRONT OF THE BATHROOM MIRROR, RUNNING HER fingers over the green marble countertop and gold-plated sink fixtures.
She couldn’t help wondering what the point of that was. What had seemed luxurious before now seemed simply overdone.
She stepped into the bedroom, turning up the volume of the portable monitor that hooked into Connor’s new room. Cassie had been amazed:
in the hours since he’d come for her, Alex had had one of the guest bedrooms wallpapered with fat cartoon sheep and tumbling cows, the edging of the sills and doors had been painted bright blue, and skycolored curtains dotted with clouds fluttered in the windows. Connor was asleep in a whitewashed cradle.
She listened to the even rhythm of her baby’s breathing. She shouldn’t have been surprised; Alex had always been able to do the impossible.
It was quiet in the house; the staff had retired for the night. There had seemed to be fewer people, and those she’d recognized—like John, and Alex’s secretary—were all distantly polite to her, acknowledging her position in the household, but no one was overly friendly. She kept waiting to hear a maid say, “It’s nice to have you back,” or for the chef to touch her arm and tell her he’d missed her, but these things did not happen, and Cassie realized that if she wanted to win everyone over again, the first friend she would have to make was Alex.
She found him downstairs in his study, sitting in the tremendous leather desk chair, his body bent over a list of financial holdings. Spaced across the top of the desk were the three Oscars he’d won when she was in Pine Ridge. She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.
Alex looked up. “He’s asleep again?”
Cassie nodded. “For the next couple of hours, anyway.”
She reached across the desk and picked up the Oscar in the corner, smoothing her fingers over the streamlined back and the crossed arms.
It was much heavier than she had expected. “I was so proud of you,”
she murmured. “I wanted to be here.”
“I wanted you to be here too.”
They looked at each other for a long moment, and then Alex’s hand covered hers on the Oscar and set it on the desk. He pulled her onto his lap.
Suddenly nervous, she splayed her hand across the sheaf of papers on the desk. “How much are you worth?” she teased.
Alex looked away. “Not nearly as much as when you left,” he said.
“You probably noticed we’re down to a skeleton staff, and I ought to tell you the apartment’s been on the market for a couple of months now. I—I took a big loss producing Macbeth.”
Again Cassie felt her stomach cramp at the pain he’d suffered as a result of her disappearance. Trying to smile, she tipped up Alex’s chin.
“The good news,” she said, “is that I’ve learned a lot about roots and berries. We’re in no danger of starving.”
The corners of Alex’s mouth turned up. “I don’t think we’re quite at the brink of bankruptcy yet,” he said. “But I would get a kick out of watching you forage your way through Bel-Air.”
Cassie wrapped her arms around Alex’s neck and pressed her cheek against his heart. “I really missed you,” she said. She wished he would put away his files and take her upstairs. She wished at the very least he would kiss her.
“I have a favor to ask of you,” Alex said.
Cassie looked up, and then beamed, realizing he was giving her the choice. Hadn’t he said he would sleep in a different bedroom if she wanted? Obviously all he was waiting for was a hint, a clue, a caress.
“I know you’re going to want me to see . . . someone. A psychiatrist or something. I was just hoping you wouldn’t go mentioning it. You know, to someone like Ophelia, or your cop friend in South Dakota.”
He lowered his eyes. “That’s all.”
Cassie felt his words tug at her. Did he really think that after all he’d been willing to do in order to get her back, she might intentionally try to hurt him? “Alex,” Cassie murmured, “I never said anything to anyone before. I’m not going to say anything now.” She stroked the back of his neck. “I have a favor to ask of you too.” Alex swung his head toward her, his eyes glowing. “I was wondering if we could go to bed,” she said.
Alex’s breath drained out in a long sigh. He tucked Cassie’s head back against his chest. “I thought you’d never ask.”
HE WAS AS NERVOUS AS A TEENAGER. PACING NAKED IN FRONT OF the mirror, he thought about Cassie lying under the covers just a few feet outside the bathroom door. He wondered if her body had changed because she’d had Connor. He wondered what she would be wearing, if anything, and then he thought maybe he should wrap a towel around himself. She might want to talk first. Hell, he didn’t even know if it was all right to do this, so soon after the baby.
Placing his hands on either side of the sink, he leaned toward the mirror. “Get ahold of yourself,” he ordered out loud. He closed his eyes and thought of all the love scenes he’d done over the years, takes and retakes with his hands on the breasts of beautiful women and his mouth roaming over their pancaked skin. He’d been able to act natural in front of an audience of cameramen, directors, gaffers, grips; but with his own wife and no crew in sight, he was terrified of doing something wrong.
The truth was, there was no woman who could make him feel like Cassie did. She touched him without ulterior motives; she gave all of herself;
she loved him simply because he was him.
He took a deep breath and pulled open the bathroom door. Cassie was sitting propped up in the bed, the sheet drawn to her bare shoulders. The covers moved as she wriggled her toes. “Oh,” she said, “I guess you didn’t fall in.”
Alex laughed and sat on the edge of the bed. “What did I do to deserve you?”
Cassie gave him a cocky smile. “You got very, very lucky.” She stretched her hand up to him to pull him closer, and the sheet fell away from her breasts. Alex had only the slightest glimpse of the milky skin, the dark spread nipples, before he crushed her against him.
“God, you feel good,” he whispered against her mouth. He dug his fingers into her hair and kissed her, telling himself to go slowly before it was over too fast. But Cassie’s hands came to his waist to unknot the towel and before he could help himself he’d settled between her legs and driven into her, crying out.
He collapsed against her chest, mortified. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I feel like I’m fifteen again.”
Cassie stroked his hair. “It’s nice to know you were even more nervous than I was.” She shifted her hips beneath him, and he pulled her onto her side so she wouldn’t bear his weight.
He looked down at her body, still lined from her pregnancy and thick at the waist and stomach. “I’m fat,” she announced.
“You’re beautiful,” Alex said. His fingers traced a stretch mark on her hip. “Is this—okay to do?”
Cassie laughed. “It’s a little late to be asking, don’t you think?”
Alex shook his head. “No, I mean . . . did I hurt you?”
Cassie’s eyes met his, and he realized that the phrasing of the sentence went much deeper than he had intended. “No,” she whispered. “And you won’t.”
She felt Alex moving beside her again and she reached for him, but he gently pinned her arms at the sides of her head. “No,” he said. “Let me.”
He began to love her, inch by inch, and this time it burned from behind her skin. When he came into her, Cassie saw for just a moment the skeleton of her life. There was no house, no Oscars, no Connor.
There were no old secrets and no residual pain. There was just Alex, and Cassie. She remembered how Alex Rivers had stirred things inside her she’d never known about; how, always, she would love him. And with these beginnings shining so brightly again, it was difficult to imagine that for months she had passed them by without a second glance.