Adored: A Love Letters Novel

by Kristen Blakely

  “I’m sure Simon would be delighted with his fifteen-percent cut.”

  “Sure he would. You share the goodness when it comes your way, now, you hear?”

  “Beer’s on me,” Rowan promised Greg and the camera crew. “As well as dinner at Morton’s steakhouse. Couldn’t have done it without you guys.”

  “Hear, hear,” the cameraman roared.

  A querulous female voice cut in. “How is a girl supposed to concentrate through this racket?”

  As Lauren Cardillo walked into the studio, Greg cast Rowan a wry grin. “And here comes her royal highness,” he muttered under his breath. He raised his voice to shout, “All right, let’s hustle now. We’ll do the couple shots and then Lauren’s solo photos. Jake, switch out the lightbulbs for soft white.”

  As the camera crew adjusted the lights and equipment around the studio, Lauren sidled up to Rowan. “How are you, darling?”

  Rowan ignored the endearment as he buttoned up his shirt, tightened his tie, and shrugged his jacket back on. “Great. And you?”

  “In top form.” She smoothed down the sides of her glittering blue-sequined gown. It accentuated her curves and showed off her cleavage to the best advantage. “You missed my party last weekend.”

  “I told you I couldn’t make it.”

  Her ruby red lips shaped a pout. “I thought you were just waiting for a personal invitation.”

  Rowan frowned. “A personal invitation?”

  “Much friendlier than an Evite.” She smiled. “I went over to your place on Friday evening with the personal invitation, but you weren’t there.” She trailed her fingertips across his biceps.

  Rowan made a mental note to yell at Simon, his agent, for giving out his address. “I was out of town.”

  “If you’re in town this weekend, we could have another party. A private one?”

  Rowan silently blessed Vera for saving him from a bald-faced lie. “Actually, I’ll be out of town again this weekend. Sorry.”

  Lauren laughed, but there was no humor in that sparkling sound. “Careful, Rowan, or I might think you’re not interested in me.”

  I’m not interested in you. He tried not to sigh. “Let’s just get this photo shoot done.”

  In theory, the emotional distance Rowan tried to maintain should have made the photo shoot awkward, but Rowan was too much of a professional to allow his personal feelings to get in the way of his job, and Lauren was only too happy to take advantage of Rowan’s physical proximity. Within an hour, Greg was the happy owner of several excellent shots of Lauren tastefully draped over Rowan’s arm.

  “You’re done for today,” Greg told Rowan. “The crew will be set up by noon tomorrow for the cityscape shots. Don’t be late, and don’t waste our time gabbing on the phone with your girlfriend.” The statement, offered in a nonchalant tone, was deliberate.

  Lauren stiffened. She blinked hard several times, and then shot Rowan a shocked, furious glare.

  Rowan flashed Greg a grateful smile as he walked out of the studio. You can always count on your pals to help you let down a girl gently.

  Behind him, Lauren threw a fit over the shade of her lipstick, except that everyone knew her screeching tantrum had nothing to do with the lipstick.

  Well, Rowan amended, almost gently. He glanced at his watch. He had a hundred and ninety-two hours before his flight into Fort Lauderdale. The countdown had begun.

  Chapter 5

  “More! More tower!” Allison demanded.

  Vera was certain no pharaoh had ever been as tyrannical, but amusement and affection added color to her longsuffering sigh as she rebuilt a tower of colorful blocks as high as Allison’s waist. A look of gleeful anticipation passed over Allison’s face moments before she kicked the tower down again and scattered the blocks over the carpet. She followed up with a stomp and a howl that would have made any director of a B-rated monster flick proud.

  Ramses II meets Godzilla. Vera stroked a gentle hand over the bob of Allison’s golden curls.

  “More tower!”

  “Shall we pick up the blocks? Daddy’s going to be here soon.” And after that, Rowan.

  Rowan had been on her mind all week. He called once a day while she was on her scheduled lunch break. The conversations were usually brief and inconsequential, often coming down to the funny thing he had seen on social media that day, but by Friday, she had fallen into a routine of spending the morning anticipating his call and the afternoon reliving it.

  “Clean up!” Allison ordered.

  “Are you going to help?”

  With as much gusto as she had expended in making a mess, Allison cleaned up the mess by lying on the carpet and swinging her arms and legs like a snow angel. Within minutes, the carpet consisted of toys cluttered along the circular periphery of her limbs. “All done,” she declared.

  “Nice try.” Vera reached for her ringing cell phone. She glanced at the number, and couldn’t help the smile that crept across her face or the tingle down her spine. “Rowan?”

  “I’ve just landed,” he said. “I should be over in a half hour or less.”

  “Sounds good.” Vera looked at her watch. Where was Darren? He should have arrived five minutes ago to pick up Allison for the weekend.

  “Where would you like to go for dinner?” Rowan asked.

  “Anywhere. No preference.”

  “How about Casablanca? We can walk on the beach after dinner.”

  Something in her stomach—those damned butterflies again—danced a little polka. “Perfect. See you in a few.” She disconnected the call and set the phone down. Within moments, it rang again. Had Rowan forgotten something? She snatched up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Vera?” It was Darren’s voice. “Something urgent came up. I can’t take Allison this weekend.”

  “What? But—”

  “But what?”

  “Nothing.” Her initial burst of shock was superseded by delight. She had spent the past nine months sulking over her daughter’s absence on the weekends. Well, now she would have Allison all weekend, and she would have Rowan too. How would he take the news that his plans for a romantic two-person weekend had been dashed by a rambunctious one-year-old?

  Well, if Rowan can’t handle being around Allison, then he’s not the right guy for me.

  “Vera?” Darren asked. He sounded hesitant, even concerned. She must have been quiet on the phone for too long.”

  “It’s fine. I’m glad to have Allison,” she said. “Just let me know about next week.”

  “Sure. Bye.”

  She hung up, too distracted by the growing to-do list in her mind to take offense at Darren’s dismissive farewell. Dinner at Casablanca was out of the question. Allison would get tired before they were even halfway through the meal, and the child did not believe in gracefully going to sleep.

  Vera smacked a kiss to Allison’s chubby cheek. “Now, go play for a bit, all right? Mommy is going to get dinner started.”

  Allison wailed when Vera set her down on the carpet, but within minutes, a lopsided pyramid rose from the pile of blocks. Vera flicked occasional glances at Allison to make sure a disaster wasn’t in the works as she scurried to prepare food. She carved up the rotisserie chicken left over from yesterday’s dinner, sprinkled thyme over it, and placed the dish in the oven. She set the rice to cook and then focused on dicing sweet onions.

  By the time the doorbell rang twenty minutes later, the rice was done and the black beans were bubbling merrily over the stove. Vera wiped down her hands on her jeans and opened the door for Rowan. He wore a white turtleneck tucked into a pair of black slacks, and a sexy grin. “Hi,” the word escaped her in a breathless huff. Darn, he was even more gorgeous than she had remembered. “Uh, come in?”

  “Was that a question or an invitation?” He did not have flowers—she gave herself a mental kick for subconsciously expecting them—but he had a paper bag in his hand.

  “Come in. There’s been a change of plans. After we spoke, Darren c
alled and said he couldn’t take Allison. I hope you don’t mind. It means we can’t go to Casablanca, because it’ll be too late for her and—”

  “Is that roast chicken I smell?”

  By way of the local supermarket and reheated in an oven. “Yes. Anyway, I made dinner.”

  “Fantastic.” The gleam in his eyes, more so than the flash of his smile, told her that the sentiment was heartfelt. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a long time.” He held up the bag. “I guess I might as well give this to her in person, huh?”

  “What is it?” Vera peeked into the bag. She moved aside the colorful tissue paper to reveal a white teddy bear in an astronaut suit. “Oh, Rowan, it’s wonderful.”

  “You think she’ll like it?” A sheepish smile curved his lips. “There was a princess teddy bear, too, but I couldn’t bring myself to pick it up. Too pink.”

  Vera snorted with laughter. “This is a better role model for her. An astronaut is within reach. Princess not so much. Come on, I’ll introduce you, and you can hang out with her while I get dinner ready. I’ll need another ten minutes.” She edged around the kitchen counter and walked into the living room. “Allison.”

  The girl looked up.

  “This is Rowan. Can you give him a smile?”

  Allison stared at Rowan. The smile that inched across her face was like the sun breaking over the horizon. Her faint grin became bright and full, displaying a mouthful of little teeth. She thumped her hands on the carpet as if it were a drum set. “Pretty!”

  Vera cast Rowan a startled glance, and then laughed at the self-conscious expression that passed over his face. Yes, he is. “All right, you guys have fun now. Don’t let her boss you around.” Vera watched for a moment as Rowan sat across from Allison and supplemented the tower-building efforts. She estimated Rowan’s chances of not being bossed around at a fraction of one percent.

  By the time she ladled out the rice and beans into large CorningWare bowls and decorated the chicken with sprigs of fresh thyme and cherry tomatoes, Allison and Rowan were best buddies, judging by the happy patter of conversation between them.

  “Did you really try to teach her about conservation of energy?” Vera asked Rowan as he carried Allison into the dining room and set her in her high chair.

  “Figured that anyone trying to build a tower with the sole purpose of kicking it down ought to understand how potential energy transforms to kinetic energy.” He surveyed the spread on the table. “This looks great.”

  “I’d save the compliments for after you’ve tasted the food.” She held up a bottle of wine. “Can you handle white wine in a Mickey Mouse cup?”

  “I’ll take Donald Duck.”

  With a chuckle, Vera poured the wine into Disney glasses and brought them to the table. She offered one glass to Rowan. “Well, bon appétit.”

  “Thank you.” He smiled and started eating.

  Vera set a bowl of rice, beans, and shredded chicken pieces in front of Allison who promptly used the food to decorate her tray. Vera waited until Rowan had taken a few mouthfuls of his meal. “Well?” she asked.

  “I like it.”

  His simple, definitive compliment warmed her. “It’s just rotisserie chicken from the grocery store, served with beans and rice, the only thing I can do well in the kitchen.”

  “Everyone needs a signature dish.”

  “What’s yours?”

  “Hmm…ramen, I guess. I’m good at adding all sorts of things to ramen soup to make the meal bigger and better than it ever aspired to be. Maybe I could cook a meal for you one day. Do you go in to the clinic tomorrow or Sunday?”

  “Neither, actually. Iris…Dr. Whitley called and said she would cover my shift this weekend since I helped her out last weekend.”

  Rowan tucked his tongue into his cheek. “That’s good of her.”

  She wondered why he sounded amused. “Yes, it is.”

  “So, what would you and Allison like to do tomorrow?”

  Vera looked up at him. “You don’t mind spending your weekend with Allison?”

  “Why would I? I know you usually don’t get your daughter on the weekends, so this time is important to you. I appreciate you letting me tag along.”

  If her heart could have melted, it would have. He had brought a gift for her daughter, and understood, without being told, just how important Allison was to her. “She likes the beach.”

  “Great. We can spend the day there, and then perhaps have an early dinner on Las Olas?”

  “Sure.” Her weekday schedule did not give her much time to take Allison out, and this particular outing would definitely be a treat for the both of them.

  “More!” Allison pounded on her tray. Her bowl was empty; her tray was a colorful mosaic of food. With only a little application of imagination, it looked like art.

  “Louvre, here I come,” Rowan murmured.

  Vera exploded into laughter. She could not recall the last time she had enjoyed the mutual wavelength of a private joke.

  Dinner passed in a blur of relaxed conversation until Allison started smearing beans on her cheeks. “I think she’s about done,” Vera said, glancing at Allison’s tray. She estimated that about fifteen percent of what she had offered Allison had made it into the child’s stomach. She slid her chair back. “I’m going to give her a bath and put her to bed. Will you be okay for about a half hour?”

  “Of course. Good night, Allison.” To his credit, Rowan did not flinch when Allison pressed a food-smeared mouth to his cheek and wrapped her grubby fingers in his hair.

  Vera glanced back as she carried Allison away from the table. The amused, indulgent smile on Rowan’s lips was exactly what she had imagined she would see on Darren’s face each time he looked at his daughter. Darren had yet to come through for her, but Rowan had within an hour of meeting Allison.

  Rowan’s an escort. He’s not father material, she reminded herself, but somehow, she couldn’t help hoping that he would want to be.

  After Vera and Allison left the dining room and went upstairs, Rowan cleared the table, rinsed the dishes, and loaded the dishwasher. The sound of running water mixed with laughter drifted down to him, and he smiled. Allison was charming, and Vera was amazing. Less than a week earlier, he had been a total stranger, but she had opened her home, and he hoped her heart, to him. Her generosity of spirit caught him off guard, and he wondered how much of it was due to her not being a stereotypical New Yorker. She had been raised in Florida where the welcome was often as warm as the weather.

  And this was her home. The first floor of her townhouse consisted of a tiny kitchen and a large space, which she had split into a dining room and a living room. He noted the absence of a television and a dearth of social-chatter magazines—the types of media most likely to showcase models selling fashion and fragrances. No wonder Vera had not recognized him.

  The toy-cluttered carpet obviously doubled as Allison’s playroom, but the living room also sported a large couch and oddly, a fireplace with gas logs. Rowan laughed softly. A fireplace in Florida was only marginally more useful than a snow shovel. He found the switch for the gas fireplace, turned it on, and for a moment, enjoyed the dancing flames before he shifted his attention to the wall of bookshelves on either side of the hearth.

  Her reading tastes were eclectic, ranging from science to history, from art to philosophy. Her taste in novels tended toward literary, with a few romances thrown into the mix. The few personal items decorating the shelves were limited to photographs of Allison in plastic frames. There was none of Vera, and none of her ex-husband, either.

  He picked out from the bookshelf a book with a worn spine, took a step back, and turned to survey her home. Vera likely earned a comfortable living as a physician, but her home testified to a simpler lifestyle than he had expected.

  Rowan smiled. Her home suited her, just like her unpretentious style suited her. His New York condo, filled with designer furniture and expensive art, did not possess anything remotely close to the
personality and charm that filled her home. Warmth and welcome could not be purchased; how could she make the impossible look so easy? Was it the spread of toys on the carpet or the casual disarray of a lived-in home?

  Or—

  He squeezed his eyes shut. Or was the lack in him? Had he lived alone and on the road for so long that he had forgotten what a home looked and felt like?

  He knew he wanted it. He didn’t know how to get it.

  And what he had in abundance—like women who did not understand “no” throwing themselves at him—he did not want.

  Rowan shook his head. Sometimes it was easier not to identify the problem, especially when there were no solutions in sight. He shoved his dilemma out of his mind and resolved to enjoy what he had at that moment—an evening with a beautiful woman. He was not certain which he enjoyed more—the gentle warmth in her eyes when she looked down at her daughter or the sincere delight in her unpracticed smile. Both made his breath catch.

  He intended to enjoy both, and possibly more. All he had to do was wait. With a faint smile of anticipation, he settled down on the couch, kicked off his shoes, and began to read her book.

  Vera held her breath as she eased out of Allison’s toddler bed. Allison insisted on being cuddled to sleep each night. The fault was hers, Vera supposed. Allowing the child to “cry it out” worked great as a concept, unless one was a recently divorced mother terrified of her child hating her any more than she already did.

  Vera had indulged Allison’s bedtime demands, and as a result, Allison had become a little heat-seeking cuddleholic.

  Vera stood over her daughter’s bed for a moment and stared at her child. The pressure in her chest—so tangible, so real—was love. There was nothing she would not do for Allison.

  Somewhere on that list of “To Dos” was to find a man worthy of being Allison’s father.

  The handsome man who waited downstairs, who made her heart race, was not that man.

  Damn, she had to tell Rowan before he sank any more time, money, and effort into a relationship that simply could not be. It wasn’t fair to him. Now that he had met Allison, perhaps he would understand why Vera had to make a decision that was right for the child.