Chapter Nine

Theresa eyed Bruce with suspicion as she pulled away from his touch. "So you think I look like I could use a friend? Well, if I happen to see one, I might consider your advice."

The older man smiled. "I thought we were old friends, Theresa."

"You're Julian's friend, not mine," Theresa reminded him. "I don't mean to be rude, but seeing you is a reminder of things I would rather forget."

"I can take all of that away if you'll just dance with me, Theresa."

Theresa snapped her fingers. "Oh? Just like that?" she asked sarcastically.

"Pretty close to it. Knowledge is power." Bruce lifted a craggy brow. "I have the feeling that your opinion about me might change considerably. In fact, I just might turn out to be the best friend you've ever had."

Theresa faltered. Did he really know something?

"What do you have to lose?" he coaxed.

What indeed? Everything of beauty from her old life had already been marred. The only beautiful thing from her new life, her relationship with Fox, was nothing more than an illusion.

"Fine. I'll dance with you," Theresa consented.

"That's my girl." Bruce squeezed her hand lightly and led her to the floor. "I'm so glad I had the chance to see you tonight. It's been a long time since I've been in Harmony. Try to stay away from the ex-wife as much as possible. Still, I wanted to make it a point to see you."

"I can't imagine I made much of an impression on you," Theresa replied coolly as they began to move to the music. "There must be a whole bevy of young women whose lives Julian has ruined."

"Not a match made in heaven, I see," Bruce chuckled. "I really do owe you an apology, and I see I shouldn't have waited so long. What happened to you in Bermuda is actually my fault."

He spoke so nonchalantly, so cavalierly, that his comment almost slid past her. Almost.

Theresa was taken aback. "What?"

Bruce back tracked. "Well, I didn't pour the champagne down your throat or Julian's for that matter, but I did help matters along a bit."

"How did you help matters?"

"That night you showed up at the hotel looking for Julian, a bunch of us had been holding up the bar, celebrating our freedom."

Theresa's nose wrinkled.

Bruce's story continued, his voice throaty. "We were finally free from our wives, you see. Of course, we were looking for some entertainment."

Theresa rolled her eyes. This man was wasting her time. He didn't know anything. He probably only wanted to brag about his prowess. "What does this have to do with Julian and me?"

"We saw you in that low-cut dress. Julian said he knew you, but we weren't buying it. So my buddies and I made a bet with Julian that he couldn't get you to bed."

"What?" Theresa hissed indignantly.

Bruce continued, "Thought for sure it would be the easiest money we ever made. Even more than that, we'd knock Jules down a notch or two. All in all, it was supposed to be a fun night."

"I can't believe this!"

"It's crass. I know, and I'll be the first one to admit it. We were all newly bachelors again, and you were…"

"A nice piece of ass," Theresa replied frostily.

"I wouldn't have put it exactly that way, but yes. We all would've liked a crack at you, but Julian claimed you. Wouldn't stop blustering that he could seduce you. We wanted him to prove it. When you get to be my age, you become willing to live vicariously through others."

"That's disgusting." Theresa would have pulled away if Bruce's grip hadn't been so strong.

"Just wait till you hit middle age. Hell, fifty-five isn't even middle age, is it? Don't know many 110 year old men."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it! Why…how…I would never have slept with Julian willingly. Never!"

"That's not what I saw, Theresa. Fact was you were carrying on with him so much, I was afraid he would actually succeed."

"I really shouldn't have anymore, Mr. Crane. I'm here to talk about Ethan." Her tongue felt unusually heavy.

"We'll talk about Ethan. It's just nice to have a drink with a friend. It makes me more responsive to suggestions." Julian filled her glass to its brim and watched as Theresa took another drink.

"The bubbles tickle my nose!"

"That's why they call it bubbly."

"About Ethan…"

"I didn't go with him so I could sleep with him. It was so I could convince him to take Ethan back into the family!"

Bruce sighed. "Silly little girl. Did you really think Julian was about to do that, or that he even had the power to do that? He wasn't going to stand against his father."

"I know that now," Theresa admitted.

"Anyhow, like I said, I was afraid he would actually succeed, and I'd invested a considerable sum of money on him not succeeding in bedding you. So I brought a bottle of champagne to his suite after the two of you went upstairs, but I added a little something. Thought it would put both of you out like a light."

"Wait a second. You tried to drug us?" Theresa felt the blood drain from her face. "Why? How could you? What a horrible thing to do!"

"That's true, but it was all in good fun. Like I said, I wanted to knock Julian down a peg or two. He was always talking about his latest conquest, so I wanted to see him admit that he didn't even get to first base, let alone score a homerun."

If only Bruce's questionable plan had worked.

Theresa fought down nausea. The thought of being with Julian made her feel queasy. Even though she had no memory of sleeping with him, it had been devastating to realize she'd given her body to him, shared the most personal of experiences with a lecher, and hurt the man she loved.

"Imagine my surprise when around 1:00 a.m., you and Julian came down to the bar, giggling. I must say I've never seen a grown man giggle like Julian did, but that's another story. You had a brochure in your hand for the twenty-four hour wedding chapel, so I offered to accompany the two of you."

"Why did you that when it was so obvious that we were drunk?" Theresa demanded.

"Bragging rights. I figured that since I lost the bet, I could at least gain a little satisfaction for myself in watching Julian say adios to his newfound freedom. I knew he was in for a killer hangover the next day, as well as some killer news if I played my cards right."

"But you hadn't lost the bet! Julian and I didn't…we didn't sleep together before coming down to the bar. I know that for a fact."

"You didn't?" Bruce's brows shot up in surprise. "Well, I'll be damned. Guess I didn't really need to help you to the justice of the peace, after all. Could've made Julian feel like a fool without getting you to slip a ring on his finger."

Theresa's heart pounded in her ears. She barely heard Bruce's voice anymore. It seemed to emanate from a great distance, and her mind was lost in a fog.

"…So I went with you to the justice of the peace, vouched for you, toasted your happiness with the drugged champagne, and watched both of you crash as you felt the effects. Later, I tucked you in bed in his room, and stayed in the chair so I could be there first thing in the morning for all the fun."

Theresa tried to focus on the new information. "So what you're saying is that Julian and I…"

"Never slept together, unless you did it in Harmony. Damn. Julian Crane owes me some money now."

Tears stung Theresa's eyes. "So this has all been a…a…JOKE to you?"

He nodded ruefully. "A bad one."

"Why didn't you say something sooner? How could you let us live this lie? Do you have any idea of the lives that have been destroyed because of what happened in Bermuda?"

"I tried to tell Julian the morning after, but then your loved ones were forming a lynch mob, he was so distracted with something else, don't know what, and then there was the hurricane. Oh, and then Julian was 'dead' for a few months there. Then you were 'dead' for a little while there. I started to wonder if it really mattered anymore. After all, you did make out like a bandit, Mrs. Crane."

Theresa turned away from Bruce, numb. "My baby…my baby was Ethan's baby."

Bruce didn't hear her, and he continued. "And by all rights, you shouldn't be Mrs. Crane."

The room spun, the sounds, the faces, a blur.

Knowledge was power to some, a weapon to others. It could cut deep, bleed a person. It could be beautiful like a rose and prick like thorns.

"Are you alright, Theresa?"

"You played with our lives, Bruce! You played with our lives!" Her outburst resonated over the perfectly scripted conversations and the pleasant music. "I've been nothing but a puppet!"

The room grew quiet as all eyes fell upon the two of them.

Bruce shrugged. "I said I was sorry."

"It's not enough! It will never be enough!" Her right hand flew up to her forehead. She couldn't think straight. Emotions raged within her, conflicting ones, hurtful ones.

The past singed her, its increasing burn penetrating to the depths of her being.

Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald died that night in Bermuda, and from her ashes came Theresa Crane, a fraud, a woman who never should have existed.

Nothing in the past year and a half ever should have happened.

Nothing.

"And by all rights, you shouldn't be Mrs. Crane."

The heartache she felt when she thought the baby she carried was Julian's should have been joy in anticipating a child conceived from love with Ethan. The fear of being discovered as Julian Crane's wife should have been happiness in planning her wedding to Ethan.

Alone. Reviled. Empty. Miserable.

I am my own worst enemy.

And then from nowhere, it came, a small comfort in a sea of turmoil. His deep, smooth voice spoke up. "Carry on with what you were doing. My step-mother isn't feeling well tonight."

Reluctantly, the party-goers turned away and began to speak again, but there was little doubt about the topic of their conversations.

Theresa shook, the weight of Bruce's admission staggering her.

Fox placed an arm around her, steadied her, and led her from the room.

She wasn't sure when he'd reappeared, but she was relieved to have him there. Fox always gave her a balance, strength.

They walked to the foyer, which was, thankfully, empty. He guided her to a chair and knelt next to her as she sat.

His hands rested on her knees. "You okay?"

She didn't meet his gaze. "I'm…I'm fine," she replied weakly.

"No you're not. You look as pale as a debutante whose daddy has cut her credit line."

Theresa smiled weakly, though tears streamed down her cheeks. "I think that's exactly what happened. Something was taken away, but something was given back."

Me.

And myself.

"What are you talking about, and what was going on with you and Bruce? I've never seen anyone ruffle your feathers like that—even my mother."

Past, present, and future intersected for Theresa.

Do you believe in fate?

A dance, a kiss, a broken heart, broken dreams.

New dreams. New kisses. New desires. New hopes.

Theresa regretted much, but as she looked at Fox, she knew she didn't regret being with him.

She ached to reach out to him, to just be closer to him for a few, brief moments. She loved him, wanted him, needed him.

And she never would have been with him if not for Bermuda.

Beautiful, poisonous Bermuda—both her chain and her deliverance.

How did she explain that to Fox?

For that matter, was it even worth explaining?

He'd reiterated to her over and over that their bond to each other was a physical one, not an emotional one. While that didn't stop her from falling in love with him, it was obvious those feelings were not reciprocated.

"I just got a little upset with something Bruce said. That's all. You can go now. I know that Mary Elizabeth will be expecting you."

Fox wasn't buying it. He had no idea of what upset her so terribly, but he'd never seen her come apart like that. It tore at him; in the deepest recesses of his heart and mind, it tore at him. He knew in that moment, he would have done anything to take her pain away, even if it meant bringing it upon himself.

If only he could.

The thought unnerved him. He hated the idea of someone else exerting so much power over him, but he was captive to Theresa.

"Look I don't know where she is, and right now, I don't care." He cupped her wet face between his two hands. "Resa, what happened out there? And don't tell me that everything is fine, when I can see with my own two eyes that it isn't."

She gazed at his eyes and could see the sincerity of his words. She couldn't tell him. Not yet.

"Can you just hold me for a moment? Please?"

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. "I wish I could take it away, whatever it is," he whispered soothingly. "I would, Resa. I would."

"I know you would, but this—this isn't something that anyone can take away. You were right when you said something inside of me was broken, Fox. You were so right."

Fox sucked in a breath. He realized then that he had hurt her with those words; he was furious with himself for it. "No, I wasn't. I was angry when I said it."

"But something was broken inside me, and I couldn't see it. I couldn't put my finger on it. But just now pieces of a puzzle came together, and everything--everything--has changed."

"You're talking in riddles, Theresa Crane," he said as he stood and brought her out of the chair with him.

"Lopez-Fitzgerald," she corrected as she looked up at him.

"What?" he asked as he wiped a tear from her face with the pad of his thumb.

"My name is Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald, and I l..."

"Get your hands off her, Fox!" The harsh tone startled Theresa.

They looked to the large French doors that led the party, and Fox rolled his eyes. Perfect. Just perfect.

His hold on Theresa tightened. "Long time no see, half-bro."