just coincidental, something she was trying to make up inside her mind? A connection that wasn’t there?
She recalled it feeling strange, at the time, all the attention the wealthy and charming Jonathan Cantrell had suddenly showered on her. She’d been walking out of a coffee shop when he practically ran into her. Steadying her by her arms as she juggled her paper coffee cup, he’d said a name, then had caught himself up as if he’d just snapped out of a dream. He apologized for almost knocking her down and insisted on helping her to her seat. He’d been charming and good-looking, and wore designer label chinos, shirts, and deck shoes with ease. He’d sat down with her at the metal table for two and coaxed her cell number from her with very little effort, and then had pursued her as if she were the jewel in the crown. In a matter of months he’d gotten down on one knee and proposed and Callie, a teaching assistant at a nearby school who’d been thinking about going for her master’s to become a full-fledged teacher, had accepted with tears in her eyes. The only relationship she’d really had was with Bryan. Bryan had followed his dream while Callie tutored, waited tables, and generally put her life on hold for him. It was years before she could make a final break, and only then when she learned he’d been seeing another wannabe actress who just happened to be pregnant with Bryan’s child.
She was about a year out of that relationship when she met Jonathan. It was a fairy tale from the beginning. The handsome prince saving the drifting, slightly lost midtwenties gal with the red-gold hair. Except nothing about their marriage was magical except Sean.
Teresa . . . or Marissa . . . ?
She remembered Jonathan calling out to her and literally running into her, almost as if he’d done it on purpose. She recalled wondering if it was some ploy on his part. A way to meet women by practically knocking them off their feet. Hey, it was Los Angeles and she’d seen a lot of crazy things.
Her mind reached for that missing piece again. She failed, as ever, to grasp it, but a deep recognition filled her. There was a connection. Something . . . something . . . and thinking of Jonathan, and the name Teresa, brought it closer. Had Jonathan seen something of this Teresa in her? Was that why he’d been so eager to make her acquaintance in the first place? God, she wished she could remember fully, but there were big blanks in her memory since the accident. She’d tried to believe they were the result of her injuries, and maybe they were, but she’d needed time at Del Amo to put herself right mentally and emotionally.
Or maybe she was just trying to force a connection as much as West Laughlin was, in order to make sense of everything.
West’s jaw was slid to one side, as if he were fighting back something he wanted to say.
“Tell me about West Laughlin,” she said.
“You really don’t know who I am?”
“I thought we’d established that I’m not Teresa.”
“Like I told you, I’m the black sheep of the family.”
“That’s all I get? How come you’re unemployed, Mr. Laughlin?”
“Mr. Laughlin,” he repeated ironically. “Okay . . . Ms. Cantrell . . . I got myself fired from the LAPD. They call it furloughed, but I pissed off my captain and he’s trying really hard to keep me from getting rehired.”
“What did you do?”
“Broke off a relationship with his daughter.”
“Oh, really. That doesn’t sound like something that would hold up.”
West grinned for the first time, and Callie looked away, concentrating hard on the horizon instead of that devastating smile. She didn’t like this man, she reminded herself. All she wanted was information from him that might explain something about Tucker.
“It wouldn’t,” he admitted. “But I didn’t really give a damn at the time. My grandmother, Victoria, has believed for years that Teresa had something to do with Stephen’s death. I always thought
She recalled it feeling strange, at the time, all the attention the wealthy and charming Jonathan Cantrell had suddenly showered on her. She’d been walking out of a coffee shop when he practically ran into her. Steadying her by her arms as she juggled her paper coffee cup, he’d said a name, then had caught himself up as if he’d just snapped out of a dream. He apologized for almost knocking her down and insisted on helping her to her seat. He’d been charming and good-looking, and wore designer label chinos, shirts, and deck shoes with ease. He’d sat down with her at the metal table for two and coaxed her cell number from her with very little effort, and then had pursued her as if she were the jewel in the crown. In a matter of months he’d gotten down on one knee and proposed and Callie, a teaching assistant at a nearby school who’d been thinking about going for her master’s to become a full-fledged teacher, had accepted with tears in her eyes. The only relationship she’d really had was with Bryan. Bryan had followed his dream while Callie tutored, waited tables, and generally put her life on hold for him. It was years before she could make a final break, and only then when she learned he’d been seeing another wannabe actress who just happened to be pregnant with Bryan’s child.
She was about a year out of that relationship when she met Jonathan. It was a fairy tale from the beginning. The handsome prince saving the drifting, slightly lost midtwenties gal with the red-gold hair. Except nothing about their marriage was magical except Sean.
Teresa . . . or Marissa . . . ?
She remembered Jonathan calling out to her and literally running into her, almost as if he’d done it on purpose. She recalled wondering if it was some ploy on his part. A way to meet women by practically knocking them off their feet. Hey, it was Los Angeles and she’d seen a lot of crazy things.
Her mind reached for that missing piece again. She failed, as ever, to grasp it, but a deep recognition filled her. There was a connection. Something . . . something . . . and thinking of Jonathan, and the name Teresa, brought it closer. Had Jonathan seen something of this Teresa in her? Was that why he’d been so eager to make her acquaintance in the first place? God, she wished she could remember fully, but there were big blanks in her memory since the accident. She’d tried to believe they were the result of her injuries, and maybe they were, but she’d needed time at Del Amo to put herself right mentally and emotionally.
Or maybe she was just trying to force a connection as much as West Laughlin was, in order to make sense of everything.
West’s jaw was slid to one side, as if he were fighting back something he wanted to say.
“Tell me about West Laughlin,” she said.
“You really don’t know who I am?”
“I thought we’d established that I’m not Teresa.”
“Like I told you, I’m the black sheep of the family.”
“That’s all I get? How come you’re unemployed, Mr. Laughlin?”
“Mr. Laughlin,” he repeated ironically. “Okay . . . Ms. Cantrell . . . I got myself fired from the LAPD. They call it furloughed, but I pissed off my captain and he’s trying really hard to keep me from getting rehired.”
“What did you do?”
“Broke off a relationship with his daughter.”
“Oh, really. That doesn’t sound like something that would hold up.”
West grinned for the first time, and Callie looked away, concentrating hard on the horizon instead of that devastating smile. She didn’t like this man, she reminded herself. All she wanted was information from him that might explain something about Tucker.
“It wouldn’t,” he admitted. “But I didn’t really give a damn at the time. My grandmother, Victoria, has believed for years that Teresa had something to do with Stephen’s death. I always thought
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