Mind Over Matter, Page 21

  Furious, she swung away from him. “You make me sound like a—”

  “No. I make us both sound like it.” He didn’t reach for her again. He wouldn’t crawl. “I make us both sound like precisely what we are. And I don’t care for it.”

  She’d known it would end. She’d told herself she’d be prepared when it did. But she wanted to shout and scream. Clinging to what pride she had left, she stood straight. “I don’t know what you want.”

  He stared at her until she nearly lost the battle with the tears that threatened. “No,” he said quietly. “You don’t. That’s the biggest problem, isn’t it?”

  He left her because he wanted to beg. She let him go because she was ready to.

  12

  Nervous as a cat, A.J. supervised as folding chairs were set in rows in her mother’s garden. She counted them—again—before she walked over to fuss with the umbrella-covered tables set in the side yard. The caterers were busy in the kitchen; the florist and two assistants were putting the finishing touches on the arrangements. Pots of lilies and tubs of roses were placed strategically around the terrace so that their scents wafted and melded with the flowers of Clarissa’s garden. It smelled like a fairy tale.

  Everything was going perfectly. With her hands in her pockets, she stood in the midmorning sunlight and wished for a crisis she could dig her teeth into.

  Her mother was about to marry the man she loved, the weather was a blessing and all of A.J.’s preplanning was paying off. She couldn’t remember ever being more miserable. She wanted to be home, in her own apartment, with the door locked and the curtains drawn, with her head buried under the covers. Hadn’t it been David who’d once told her that self-pity wasn’t attractive?

  Well, David was out of her life now, A.J. reminded herself. And had been for nearly two weeks. That was for the best. Without having him around, confusing her emotions, she could get on with business. The agency was so busy she was seriously considering increasing her staff. Because of the increased work load, she was on the verge of canceling her own two-week vacation in Saint Croix. She was personally negotiating two multimillion-dollar contracts and one wrong move could send them toppling.

  She wondered if he’d come. A.J. cursed herself for even thinking of him. He’d walked out of her apartment and her life. He’d walked out when she’d kept herself in a state of turmoil, struggling to keep strictly to the terms of their agreement. He’d been angry and unreasonable. He hadn’t bothered to call and she certainly wasn’t going to call him.

  Maybe she had once, she thought with a sigh. But he hadn’t been home. It wasn’t likely that David Brady was mooning and moping around. A. J. Fields was too independent, and certainly too busy, to do any moping herself.

  But she’d dreamed of him. In the middle of the night she’d pull herself out of dreams because he was there. She knew, better than most, that dreams could hurt.

  That part of her life was over, she told herself again. It had been only an…episode, she decided. Episodes didn’t always end with flowers and sunlight and pretty words. She glanced over to see one of the hired help knock over a line of chairs. Grateful for the distraction, A.J. went over to help set things to rights.

  When she went back into the house, the caterers were busily fussing over quiche and Clarissa was sitting contentedly in her robe, noting down the recipe.

  “Momma, shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

  Clarissa glanced up with a vague smile and petted the cat that curled in her lap. “Oh, there’s plenty of time, isn’t there?”

  “A woman never has enough time to get ready on her wedding day.”

  “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? I know it’s foolish to take it as a sign, but I’d like to.”

  “You can take anything you want as a sign.” A.J. started to move to the stove for coffee, then changed her mind. On impulse, she opened the refrigerator and pulled out one of the bottles of champagne that were chilling. The caterers muttered together and she ignored them. It wasn’t every day a daughter watched her mother marry. “Come on. I’ll help you.” A.J. swung through the dining room and scooped up two fluted glasses.

  “I wonder if I should drink before. I shouldn’t be fuzzy-headed.”

  “You should absolutely be fuzzy-headed,” A.J. corrected. Walking into her mother’s room, she plopped down on the bed as she had as a child. “We should both be fuzzy-headed. It’s better than being nervous.”

  Clarissa smiled beautifully. “I’m not nervous.” A.J. sent the cork cannoning to the ceiling. “Brides have to be nervous. I’m nervous and all I have to do is watch.”

  “Aurora.” Clarissa took the glass she offered, then sat on the bed beside her. “You should stop worrying about me.”

  “I can’t.” A.J. leaned over to kiss one cheek, then the other. “I love you.”

  Clarissa took her hand and held it tightly. “You’ve always been a pleasure to me. Not once, not once in your entire life, have you brought me anything but happiness.”

  “That’s all I want for you.”

  “I know. And it’s all I want for you.” She loosened her grip on A.J.’s hand but continued to hold it. “Talk to me.”

  A.J. didn’t need specifics to understand her mother meant David. She set down her untouched champagne and started to rise. “We don’t have time. You need to—”

  “You’ve had an argument. You hurt.”

  With a long, hopeless sigh, A.J. sank back down on the bed. “I knew I would from the beginning. I had my eyes open.”

  “Did you?” With a shake of her head, Clarissa set her glass beside A.J.’s so she could take both her hands. “Why is it you have such a difficult time accepting affection from anyone but me? Am I responsible for that?”

  “No. No, it’s just the way things are. In any case, David and I… We simply had a very intense physical affair that burned itself out.”

  Clarissa thought of what she had seen, what she had felt, and nearly sighed. “But you’re in love with him.”

  With anyone else, she could have denied. With anyone else, she could have lied and perhaps have been believed. “That’s my problem, isn’t it? And I’m dealing with it,” she added quickly, before she was tempted into self-pity again. “Today of all days we shouldn’t be talking about anything but lovely things.”

  “Today of all days I want to see my daughter happy. How do you think he feels about you?”

  It never paid to forget how quietly stubborn Clarissa could be. “He was attracted. I think he was a little intrigued because I wasn’t immediately compliant, and in business we stood toe-to-toe.”

  Clarissa hadn’t forgotten how successfully evasive her daughter could be. “I asked you how you think he feels.”

  “I don’t know.” A.J. dragged a hand through her hair and rose. “He wants me—or wanted me. We match very well in bed. And then I’m not sure. He seemed to want more—to get inside my head.”

  “And you don’t care for that.”

  “I don’t like being examined.”

  Clarissa watched her daughter pace back and forth in her quick, nervous gait. So much emotion bottled up, she thought. Why couldn’t she understand she’d only truly feel it when she let it go? “Are you so sure that’s what he was doing?”

  “I’m not sure of anything, but I know that David is a very logical sort of man. The kind who does meticulous research into any subject that interests him.”

  “Did you ever consider that it was you who interested him, not your psychic abilities?”

  “I think he might have been interested in one and uneasy about the other.” She wished, even now, that she could be sure. “In any case, it’s done now. We both understood commitment was out of the question.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it wasn’t what he—what we,” she corrected herself quickly, “were looking for. We set the rules at the start.”

  “What did you argue about?”

  “He suggested we live together.”


  “Oh.” Clarissa paused a moment. She was old-fashioned enough to be anxious and wise enough to accept. “To some, a step like that is a form of commitment.”

  “No, it was more a matter of convenience.” Was that what hurt? she wondered. She hadn’t wanted to analyze it. “Anyway, I wanted to think it over and he got angry. Really angry.”

  “He’s hurt.” When A.J. glanced over, surprised protest on the tip of her tongue, Clarissa shook her head. “I know. You’ve managed to hurt each other deeply, with nothing more than pride.”

  That changed things. A.J. told herself it shouldn’t, but found herself weakening. “I didn’t want to hurt David. I only wanted—”

  “To protect yourself,” Clarissa finished. “Sometimes doing one can only lead to the other. When you love someone, really love them, you have to take some risks.”

  “You think I should go to him.”

  “I think you should do what’s in your heart.”

  Her heart. Her heart was broken open. She wondered why everyone couldn’t see what was in it. “It sounds so easy.”

  “And it’s the most frightening thing in the world. We can test, analyze and research psychic phenomena. We can set up labs in some of the greatest universities and institutions in the world, but no one but a poet understands the terror of love.”

  “You’ve always been a poet, Momma.” A.J. sat down beside her again, resting her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Oh, God, what if he doesn’t want me?”

  “Then you’ll hurt and you’ll cry. After you do, you’ll pick up the pieces of your life and go on. I have a strong daughter.”

  “And I have a wise and beautiful mother.” A.J. leaned over to pick up both glasses of wine. After handing one to Clarissa, she raised hers in a toast. “What shall we drink to first?”

  “Hope.” Clarissa clinked glasses. “That’s really all there is.”

  A.J. changed in the bedroom her mother always kept prepared for her. It hadn’t mattered that she’d spent only a handful of nights in it over nearly ten years; Clarissa had labeled it hers, and hers it remained. Perhaps she would stay there tonight, after the wedding was over, the guests gone and the newlyweds off on their honeymoon. She might think better there, and tomorrow find the courage to listen to her mother’s advice and follow her heart.

  What if he didn’t want her? What if he’d already forgotten her? A.J. faced the mirror but closed her eyes. There were too many “what ifs” to consider and only one thing she could be certain of. She loved him. If that meant taking risks, she didn’t have a choice.

  Straightening her shoulders, she opened her eyes and studied herself. The dress was romantic because her mother preferred it. She hadn’t worn anything so blatantly feminine and flowing in years. Lace covered her bodice and caressed her throat, while the soft blue silk peeked out of the eyelets. The skirt swept to a bell at her ankles.

  Not her usual style, A.J. thought again, but there was something appealing about the old-fashioned cut and the charm of lace. She picked up the nosegay of white roses that trailed with ribbon and felt foolishly like a bride herself. What would it be like to be preparing to bond yourself with another person, someone who loved and wanted you? There would be flutters in your stomach. She felt them in her own. Your throat would be dry. She lifted a hand to it. You would feel giddy with a combination of excitement and anxiety. She put her hand on the dresser to steady herself.

  A premonition? Shaking it off, she stepped back from the mirror. It was her mother who would soon promise to love, honor and cherish. She glanced at her watch, then caught her breath. How had she managed to lose so much time? If she didn’t put herself in gear, the guests would be arriving with no one to greet them.

  Alex’s children were the first to arrive. She’d only met them once, the evening before at dinner, and they were still a bit awkward and formal with one another. But when her future sister offered to help, A.J. decided to take her at her word. Within moments, cars began pulling up out front and she needed all the help she could get.

  “A.J.” Alex found her in the garden, escorting guests to chairs. “You look lovely.”

  He looked a little pale under his tan. The sign of nerves had her softening toward him. “Wait until you see your bride.”

  “I wish I could.” He pulled at the knot in his tie. “I have to admit I’d feel easier if she were here to hold on to. You know, I talk to millions of people every night, but this…” He glanced around the garden. “This is a whole different ball game.”

  “I predict very high ratings.” She brushed his cheek. “Why don’t you slip inside and have a little shot of bourbon?”

  “I think I might.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I think I just might.”

  A.J. watched him make his way to the back door before she turned back to her duties. And there was David. He stood at the edge of the garden, where the breeze just ruffled the ends of his hair. She wondered, as her heart began to thud, that she hadn’t sensed him. She wondered, as the pleasure poured through her, if she’d wished him there.

  He didn’t approach her. A.J.’s fingers tightened on the wrapped stems of her flowers. She knew she had to take the first step.

  She was so lovely. He thought she looked like something that had stepped out of a dream. The breeze that tinted the air with the scents of the garden teased the lace at her throat. As she walked to him, he thought of every empty hour he’d spent away from her.

  “I’m glad you came.”

  He’d told himself he wouldn’t, then he’d been dressed and driving south. She’d pulled him there, through her thoughts or through his own emotions, it didn’t matter. “You seem to have it all under control.”

  She had nothing under control. She wanted to reach out to him, to tell him, but he seemed so cool and distant. “Yes, we’re nearly ready to start. As soon as I get the rest of these people seated, I can go in for Clarissa.”

  “I’ll take care of them.”

  “You don’t have to. I—”

  “I told you I would.”

  His clipped response cut her off. A.J. swallowed her longings and nodded. “Thanks. If you’ll excuse me, then.” She walked away, into the house, into her own room, where she could compose herself before she faced her mother.

  Damn it! He swung away, cursing her, cursing himself, cursing everything. Just seeing her again had made him want to crawl. He wasn’t a man who could live on his knees. She’d looked so cool, so fresh and lovely, and for a moment, just a moment, he’d thought he’d seen the emotions he needed in her eyes. Then she’d smiled at him as though he were just another guest at her mother’s wedding.

  He wasn’t going to go on this way. David forced himself to make polite comments and usher well-wishers to their seats. Today, before it was over, he and A. J. Fields were going to come to terms. His terms. He’d planned it that way, hadn’t he? It was about time one of his plans concerning her worked.

  The orchestra A.J. had hired after auditioning at least a half-dozen played quietly on a wooden platform on the lawn. A trellis of sweet peas stood a few feet in front of the chairs. Composed and clear-eyed, A.J. walked through the garden to take her place. She glanced at Alex and gave him one quick smile of encouragement. Then Clarissa, dressed in dusky rose silk, stepped out of the house.

  She looks like a queen, A.J. thought as her heart swelled. The guests rose as she walked through, but she had eyes only for Alex. And he, A.J. noted, looked as though no one else in the world existed but Clarissa.

  They joined hands, and they promised.

  The ceremony was short and traditional. A.J. watched her mother pledge herself, and fought back a sense of loss that vied with happiness. The words were simple, and ultimately so complex. The vows were timeless, and somehow completely new.

  With her vision misted, her throat aching, she took her mother in her arms. “Oh, be happy, Momma.”

  “I am. I will be.” She drew away just a little. “So will you.”

  Before A.J.
could speak, Clarissa turned away and was swept up in an embrace by her new stepchildren.

  There were guests to feed and glasses to fill. A.J. found keeping busy helped put her emotions on hold. In a few hours she’d be alone. Then she’d let them come. Now she laughed, brushed cheeks, toasted and felt utterly numb.

  “Clarissa.” David had purposely waited until she’d had a chance to breathe before he approached her. “You’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you, David. I’m so glad you’re here. She needs you.”

  He stiffened and only inclined his head. “Does she?”

  With a sigh, Clarissa took both of his hands. When he felt the intensity, he nearly drew away. “Plans aren’t necessary,” she said quietly. “Feelings are.”

  David forced himself to relax. “You don’t play fair.”

  “She’s my daughter. In more ways than one.”

  “I understand that.”

  It took her only a moment, then she smiled. “Yes, you do. You might let her know. Aurora’s an expert at blocking feelings, but she deals well with words. Talk to her?”