Barbara Delinsky - Facets

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 1990 by Barbara Delinsky

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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First eBook Edition: July 2007

ISBN: 0-446-19735-1

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Contents

Novels by Barbara Delinsky

Facets*

Commitments*

Heart of the Night*

Twilight Whispers*

Family Tree

Looking for Peyton Place

The Summer I Dared

Flirting with Pete

An Accidental Woman

The Woman Next Door

The Vineyard

Lake News

Coast Road

Three Wishes

A Womans Place

Shades of Grace

Together Alone

For My Daughters

Suddenly

More Than Friends

The Passions of Chelsea Kane

A Woman Betrayed

Nonfiction by Barbara Delinsky

Uplift

*Published by

WARNER BOOKS

New York, March 1990

O F ALL THE THINGS HED DONE to her in the past, of all the things he hadnt done or either might have or should have, his betrayal now was the cruelest. Hillary Cox stared at the television screen long after his image had faded. Her mind was nearly as blank, wiped clean by disbelief, shock, and pain.

Sweeping the long auburn waves from her face, she turned and stared at the carpet. But there were no answers to be found in the thick crimson pile.

Engaged? John was engaged?

She swallowed hard. The remote control fell from her thighs to the floor as she got up and wandered distractedly around the den. The room wasnt large. Nor was the rest of her apartment, but it was the best she could afford on Manhattans Upper East Side, which was where she wanted to live, where she wanted to be with John. She had rented it as much to satisfy her own pride as to suit him. He was a man of means. Someplace shabby would never have appealed to him.

If hed given her money, she might have had a bigger place. But then she would have felt more like a whore than she did now.

Her step faltered. She hadnt ever sold herself. Her feelings for John had always been deep, and whether they were of love, hate, respect, or contempt, she had been faithful to him for many years. She was no whore. A fool, perhaps. But not a whore.

She moved from the back of one chintz-covered chair to another, and then to the front of a simple cherrywood table she used as a desk. Her fingertips skimmed the papers and magazines strewn haphazardly on its top. She knew exactly what was where. John had never been able to understand that. In his mind, organization was crucial and neatness its prerequisite.

At the bookshelf she paused to touch the CD player he had given her the Christmas before, then the Steuben owl of a couple of Christmases earlier, then the framed picture she had taken of him several Christmases before that. He was a handsome devil, dark-haired and dark-eyed with features that were aristocratic enough to foil the occasional primitive look. She had seen him mature over the years, had watched his shoulders broaden, his five oclock shadow thicken, his sideburns don a silver lining. Twenty-seven years was a long time to know a man, but she hadnt counted until now. Shed just assumed there would be many years ahead for them.

A knot tightened inside her.

He couldnt be engaged, she told herself. John wasnt the marrying kind. He had reached fifty without speaking his vows, had attained extraordinary success without benefit of a wife. There was no earthly reason why he would choose to take one nowand John never did anything without reason.

Fallen in love? No, not John.

But he had said he was engaged. On nationwide television, he had said he was engaged.

Feeling a pang in the pit of her stomach, she turned from the imperious face in the picture and resumed her pacing. Moments later she found herself at the door of her bedroom, leaning weakly against the jamb, staring at the bed. It was carefully dressed in its white satin cover as it hadnt been the weekend before. There had been no point in making it up then. She and John hadnt left it for long.

Her breath came less evenly in the wake of memory. John was an incredible lover. He was demanding but rewarding, and if there were times when he was a little rough, she liked that, too. It was a change from the civilized veneer he showed the world. She took pride in sparking that roughness. It was a sign of power, proof that she did things for John that no other woman could.

On Sunday afternoon he had headed back to Boston, Facets home base. She hadnt heard from him since, but that was his style. She had adapted to it over the years by making the best out of a situation she couldnt change. John did what he wanted. He answered to no one.

Engaged? It wasnt possible.

Or was it?

She paced with growing agitation. She wouldnt have thought twice if she had read of his engagement in the National Enquirer. Lord knew the tabloid had announced the same before. But that had always been wild speculation, pairing him with women he hardly knew or could barely abide.

The interview on 20/20 was different. The show had credibility. So did Janet Curry. She was a mature, elegant woman, a fixture in Boston society, in her midforties, newly widowed and financially set. Hillary knew that John had dated her. Hed told her so. But he hadnt mentioned an engagementnot when shed seen him at the time of the shows filming a month before, nor during last weekend.

As the meaning of that sank in, so did the hurt. If the engagement was for real, John had been making love to her well after hed committed himself to Janet, which cheapened both their lovemaking and Hillary herself. Moreover, if he got married, there would be a steady woman by his side and in his bed. A steady, legitimate woman. And it wouldnt be Hillary.

Fighting off a wave of panic, she crossed to the nightstand, picked up the phone, and hastily punched out Pams number. Pam would know the truth. After all, she was Johns sister. Surely hed have shared such news with her.

Then again, he might not have. Hillary pressed the disconnect button. Although Pam was deeply involved in the family business, she and John werent close. It was no wonder. John was a bastard.

And who better to confirm his plans than the bastard himself. Punching out the number of Johns Beacon Hill townhouse, she waited through four long rings, growing more anxious with each.

St. George residence. There was noise in the background.

Christian, this is Hillary Cox. She spoke firmly, with as much authority as she could muster, given the probability that if she was a has-been in Johns life, his houseboy would know it. Is John there?

During the few seconds it took him to answer, she identified the background noise. There were people there. Their voices blended into a single, cacophonous drone. Hes here, Miss Cox, but hes occupied at the moment. She heard a peal of laughter. May I tell him you called?