The Bravos: Family Ties: The Bravo Family Way / Married in Haste / From Here to Paternity. Christine Rimmer
she’d met her at the Placer Room that day she and Fletcher had stopped by their table. “You know what? I’ll be there.”
“Great. We’ll set a fourth place.”
Jane Elliott Bravo, who had long, corkscrew-curly black hair and owned a bookstore in New Venice, was five months’ pregnant and thrilled about it. “It’s our first,” Jane announced, a proud hand on her swelling stomach. “Cade wants a little girl. I’ll take either. As long as she’s healthy, that’s all I ask.”
Jillian Diamond Bravo, a fashion plate in black and white with ropes of pearls, black tights and Mary Janes, was an up-and-coming lifestyle columnist in Sacramento. She was holding the baby when Cleo joined them. Jilly gazed adoringly down at the little darling. “I love being an auntie. But a mother? Well, not quite yet.” She beamed them all a broad smile and then grinned at Cleo. “I can see it in your eyes. You want to hold her.”
“You are so right.”
So Cleo took the baby, who waved her plump arms and yawned enormously, then promptly dropped off to sleep. Celia took her and put her in her crib and they all sat down to eat.
Lunch was every bit as good as Celia had promised: an incredible salad of baby greens and glazed pecans, followed by a main course of crawfish étouffée over rice. After the meal, they retired to Celia’s sun-bright living room where the view rivaled the one in Fletcher’s apartment across Las Vegas Boulevard at Hotel Impresario. Jane and their hostess sipped herbal iced tea while Jilly and Cleo indulged in second glasses of an excellent white wine.
Cleo knew she probably should have said no to that refill. The wine was making her just a little bit tipsy. But for the first time in days she found herself actually having a good time.
“I’m glad I came,” she confided. She sipped some more. Delicious. “Though the hard truth is that now I’m having a second glass of this wonderful Chenin Blanc, the rest of my workday will be pretty much shot.”
Celia looked slightly smug. “That was exactly my plan.”
Cleo laughed. “To get me drunk?”
“No, to get you to take a few hours off. I’ll bet by now you need a break.” She turned to the others and briefly explained the job Cleo had tackled and successfully completed in the last few weeks.
“Pretty darned impressive,” said Jilly. “Here’s to you, Cleo.”
Jane added, “We are so pleased that you came to lunch.”
“Oh, me, too,” said Cleo. “You have no idea how much I needed this.”
They all rose, clinked glasses and drank.
Just as Cleo was about to sink back into her comfortable chair, Jilly caught her wrist. “Cleo. This watch … Cartier. Oh, I knew it.” She laughed. “I really, really need one of these.”
“It is beautiful,” Jane agreed.
Cleo looked around at the friendly faces of the three women she was so glad to be getting to know—and her throat clutched up tight on her.
She felt tears rising. How ridiculous. She gulped and blinked, trying to force them back down. But they wouldn’t go.
“Oh, honey,” said Jilly, her dark brows drawing together in real concern. “What did I say? I’m so sorry….”
Cleo grabbed Jilly’s hand. Tight. “No. Please. It’s not you, honestly. It’s only …” Her throat locked up tight then, and the silly tears spilled over.
Jane reached for her. Never had another woman’s open arms looked so … necessary. With another huge sob Cleo fell into that warm and welcoming embrace. She bawled on Jane’s shoulder, soaking her soft red sweater, feeling the bulge of Jane’s pregnant belly nudging her own flat stomach. Jane rubbed her back and the other two women made cooing, understanding noises.
“It’s okay….”
“Don’t worry.”
“Just cry if you need to.”
“Just let it all out….”
Jane guided her back to her chair and eased her down into it, and Celia handed her a tissue. Cleo swabbed her eyes and blew her nose and told them, “Oh, I can’t believe this. I never cry like this.” She sobbed some more, took another tissue, blew her nose again.
“What is it?” asked Jane so gently. “What’s got you upset?”
“Yes,” Jilly urged, “you can tell us.”
Celia tried a joke. “What happens in my apartment stays in my apartment.”
They were all so dear and they really did seem to care and, well, Cleo needed to tell someone, she truly did. She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. “It’s Fletcher.” There. She’d said his name right out loud. She said it again. “It’s Fletcher. That’s the sad, awful truth.”
“Fletcher,” echoed Celia in a knowing tone. “I should have guessed.”
Cleo wiped her eyes some more. “It’s just … I’m so crazy about him and he wants to go out with me and, well, I know he’s all wrong for me.” She blew her nose a third time and told them everything—from that first meeting in Fletcher’s corner office to how she’d pushed him away for weeks and then finally taken his gift of the watch and how Danny, who was the perfect man as far as she was concerned, had broken it off with her because he knew she’d fallen for Fletcher.
When she’d finished her sad story and accepted another tissue from Celia, Jane dropped to the arm of her chair and bent close, that cloud of dark hair swinging forward around her arresting face. “Listen. Don’t feel too bad. I know, it’s awful when you fall for a Bravo man.” Jilly and Celia were nodding—in total agreement, apparently. “All of them,” Jane went on, “the sons of Blake Bravo, they always seem to have … issues, you know? They all grew up without a father and their childhoods had big challenges and … that’s just how they are. Kind of tough to get close to. At first, anyway …”
“But Cleo,” said Celia, “you might be surprised if you gave it a chance. You might find out that Fletcher is exactly the right guy for you.”
Cleo blinked. “You’re not serious.”
Celia looked slightly crestfallen. “Well, yeah. I was. Kind of …”
“Celia, he’s a major player. You know it.” She pointed her tissue at Jane and Jilly. “They know it. See? They’re not arguing. My mother loved nothing but major players and I know one when I see one. Fletcher’s a gorgeous guy with lots of power and a boatload of money, and I know he’s got a different girlfriend for every day of the week.”
Was she hoping they’d disagree with her—just a little, at least? No such luck.
Celia did go so far as to wave a dismissing hand. “Well, Aaron was that way, too. The drop-dead beautiful women came and went so fast I could hardly keep track of them. And as his personal assistant, it was my job to keep track of them. I was like you then, sure he was never going to settle down with one woman—and if he did, not with me. I’m very happy to tell you that I was totally wrong. It could be that you—”
“Wait a minute,” Jilly cut in. “Look, Cleo. We are so not going to tell you what you should do.”
“Well, I am,” Celia insisted.
Jilly shot her sister-in-law a warning look and continued, “We’re not going to lie to you. We all find Fletcher a hard guy to know.”
Celia was scowling. “But I think—”
Jilly cut her off again. “Ceil, come on. Fletcher’s a smooth operator, totally charming when he wants to be. And loyal where it counts. I believe he’d lay down his life for anyone he called family—or for anyone he considered his responsibility, for that matter. But what