Arena

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Arena Page 41

by Karen Hancock


  The ballroom was decorated with potted palms and white twinkle lights. White-linened tables ringed a wooden dance floor, and a band played in the far corner. To the left, servers were restocking the buffet table. Callie spotted her sister talking to a group of gowned and tuxedoed movers and shakers near the gift table. Tom stood between her and a slender man in a tan, western-cut suit with wavy brown hair and eyes so brilliantly blue Callie could see their color from across the room.

  Her knees went weak, and her breath left as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She managed to duck around a knot of people, then sagged against the wall. Meg was immediately at her side. “What’s the matter? Are you sick?”

  “I’m fine.” She drew a deep breath. It was just coincidence, she thought. It wasn’t him. It was just someone who looked like him. She drew herself together and stepped out for another glance.

  It wasn’t coincidence. And it wasn’t hallucination. It was him. He looked up and met her eyes from across the room, but there was no sign of recognition. Just the brief glance, and then he was speaking to one of Lisa’s friends.

  She was shaking violently, aware of Meg frowning at her, but there was no way she could walk up to that group and speak to anyone normally. Abruptly she turned and headed out of the room.

  Meg waddled after her. “Callie, where are you going?”

  The restroom was clogged with women attending to their makeup and fixing their hair. Callie collapsed into a chair in the outer salon and stared at the wall. He didn’t know her. He didn’t know her at all. But what was he doing in Tucson? At her sister’s birthday party?

  Meg pulled up a chair. “All right, what gives?”

  Callie looked at her. How could she ever explain?

  “Did you forget to eat again today?” her friend asked with narrowed eyes.

  “No.”

  Meg raised a skeptical brow. “What did you have for lunch?”

  “I had a . . . I don’t remember.”

  Meg stood and hauled her to her feet. “Come on. Let’s get you some food.”

  Halfway to the buffet Lisa pounced, hugging Callie, admiring her dress and hair, then urging her to “Come say hello to Alan.”

  “Oh, Lisa . . .” How could she even be civil to Alan when Pierce was in the room, maybe even standing beside him? She wouldn’t be able to think, much less talk.

  “I think you’ll like this one.”

  “A stockbroker Tom met on an airplane?”

  “He’s not just a stockbroker. He’s a pianist and a student, and he used to be a cowboy. He’s also quite good-looking.”

  Callie felt the blood drain from her face. Cowboy? No, that made no sense. Why would he call himself Alan?

  Lisa’s smile turned to a frown. “Are you all right?”

  “She’s only about to pass out from low blood sugar,” Meg said.

  Lisa’s frown deepened. “Did you forget to eat again?”

  “I’ll get something at the buffet,” Callie said, “then I’ll come over, okay?”

  The frown was disapproving but uncertain. “Okay, but don’t wait too long. You’ve got competition, you know. He’s rich as well as handsome.”

  Rich? Pierce hadn’t been rich. His father’s ranch had been in trouble. . . . But then, his financial situation had likely changed as dramatically as her own this last year. . . .

  Could it really be him? The pieces were falling into place, and suddenly she was panic-stricken. What if she did the wrong thing, said the wrong thing? What if she turned him off?

  The buffet was only lightly attended. She strolled alongside it, but nothing seemed appealing. Her stomach was too knotted to even think about eating. Someone came up beside her as she stared at the offerings.

  “The taquitos are pretty good.” His voice thrummed through her like a clarion call.

  “Are they?” She made herself look up at him. Mercy! When had he gotten so handsome?

  He cocked a brow, still not showing the slightest hint of recognition. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” She tore her eyes away and put a piece of parsley on her plate.

  “Maybe you should sit down or something.”

  “No, I just need to eat. I get caught up in my work and forget to.”

  What was she going to do with this parsley?

  He was regarding her curiously. “You’re Lisa’s sister, aren’t you? The artist.”

  “Yes.” With trembling fingers she picked up the tongs and fumbled two taquitos onto her plate.

  “I’m a big fan of your work.”

  She gaped at him.

  He grinned and she nearly died. “The Henley Gallery’s practically next door to my office in Denver.”

  “That’s my fantasy work.”

  “Yes. Your traditional work is excellent, too. I saw some over at Tom and Lisa’s. But the fantasy pieces are so evocative I could swear I’m standing right there. Are they based on any particular place?”

  She stared at him intently, knowing she was being weird, unable to help herself. Was he remembering something? “I . . . uh . . . well, not on any specific earthly place, no.” She added a cheese enchilada to her taquitos. Hurry! Small talk—anything. “So, uh, how do you know my sister?”

  “Actually, I know your brother-in-law. We’ve worked together over the Net. He suggested I vacation in Tucson, but it was pure coincidence we ended up on the same plane.”

  Callie’s nape hairs stood upright. “I assume you’re in stocks, too, then?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re not Alan, are you?”

  He smiled his wonderful smile. “Lisa told you about me?”

  “A little.” She hesitated, wondering how to ask this without it sounding strange. “She said you were a cowboy before you were a stockbroker.”

  “I grew up on a ranch. We sold out last year. I’d been researching investments and decided to risk some of the proceeds. It’s worked out well enough for my folks to buy a smaller place outside Denver.”

  “And you live with them?”

  “I have a place in the city, though I have to admit, I prefer country living.”

  “With computers and faxes and teleconferences, I’d think you could.”

  “Yes, but I’m also going to school—finishing up my degree.”

  “In business?”

  “History. With a minor in language.”

  She shook her head, marveling. Always some new facet to surprise her.

  “I never planned to be a broker forever, and I’ve done well enough that it seems I won’t have to.”

  “So what language are you studying?”

  “Greek.”

  Now she was dumbfounded. “Greek? Whatever would you—”

  Before she could finish, Lisa swooped down upon them. “I see you’ve met. Great! Did Alan tell you he’s a fan of your work?”

  “Actually, he did.”

  Lisa beamed at them as if she expected them to fall into each other’s arms on the spot. They stared back, and her smile broadened. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”

  After she left, Pierce said, “Do I detect a bit of matchmaking here?”

  Callie blushed hotly. “She’s always doing this. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, I’m not.” He smiled. “Though she must not be very successful if she’s always doing it.”

  “Hope springs eternal.”

  “Ah.”

  When they reached the end of the food line, Callie remembered Meg, still trailing behind, listening intently. When she introduced them, Meg smiled and bobbed her head and immediately made her exit. “I see your mom over there,” she said. “It’s been ages since we’ve visited.”

  Grinning slyly, she waddled off. Callie rolled her eyes and followed Pierce to a table on the fringes.

  “I wouldn’t have pegged you for an Alan,” she said, picking up a taquito.

  “No? What would you have pegged me for?”

  “Something unusual.”

&n
bsp; “Like Poindexter or Cuthbert?”

  She laughed. “Not that unusual.”

  “Well, Alan’s my middle name. I’ve been Pierce most of my life.”

  “Why the change?”

  “There’s a firm in Denver called Lane, Simpson, Andrews, and Pierce. I wanted to avoid the confusion when I put my own shingle out. And Alan Andrews has a kind of ring.”

  “Pierce suits you better, though.”

  “That’s what my mother says.”

  Callie flushed and concentrated on her taquito. If her heart beat any faster, it would go into ventricular fibrillation. And she was coming on way too strong.

  Gradually, though, she relaxed. He was still easy to talk to, even if he didn’t remember her. Artful questioning confirmed what she had learned last summer—how he had wandered out of the mountains after two weeks of allegedly being lost, remembering nothing. Since his horse had returned earlier, it was assumed he’d fallen and hit his head. His parents had taken him to a round of specialists in Denver and had been forced to sell the ranch to pay the bills, but nothing had helped. He still couldn’t remember.

  After dinner Lisa opened her gifts, then cut the cake. Pierce volunteered to get some for both of them, and as soon as he walked off, Meg collapsed into his chair, clasping her hands on the table and leaning toward Callie. “He looks just like the guy in that picture in your bedroom! The one you made up. Did you notice?”

  Did I notice? Callie looked from Pierce to Meg and fought to keep a straight face. “You think so?”

  “The likeness is uncanny.”

  “You’re exaggerating.” Her eyes returned to Pierce, lean and fit in the tan suit. “This guy’s much better looking.”

  Meg gaped at her. “You’re taken with him!”

  “Maybe.”

  “We’ve known each other too long for ‘maybe.’ And if I’m any judge, he’s not exactly bored.”

  “You think so?”

  Meg rolled her eyes. “Are jalapeños hot? Oh, he’s coming back. I gotta say hello to Tom.” She stood. “And you didn’t believe in love at first sight.”

  As Pierce settled at her side, a white-haired waiter reached over her shoulder to fill her coffee cup. She glanced up as he turned away, and a jolt went up her spine. But he disappeared behind a knot of people without turning, and she decided she must have imagined the likeness.

  Before long the band started up, and of course, Pierce asked her to dance, and of course, she said yes, even knowing Lisa would gloat for months. Stepping into his arms was just like the first time—she was nervous, jittery, aware of all those little sparks from his touch. They danced two fast numbers and a slow one, and by then she was hopelessly in love with him all over again.

  “You know,” he murmured alongside her ear, “this is going to sound weird, but I keep wondering—have we met before?”

  She drew back to look at him. “Why do you ask?”

  A crease furrowed his brow. “Because I have the strangest feeling I already know you.”

  She could not keep the shock from her face, and he grimaced. “Coming on a little strong, am I? Sorry.”

  “It’s not that,” she assured him. “You just surprised me.”

  He gazed blindly at the crowd behind her. “The blank spot from last summer haunts me. I keep trying to remember, and sometimes something will trigger the feeling that, if I can just turn this corner in my mind, it will all come back.” He paused, dropped his eyes to her face. “You’re sure you weren’t in Colorado last June?”

  “Positive. Are you sure you were?”

  He gave her a funny look, and she trained her gaze over his shoulder again, wondering why she had asked that. Now he’d think she was making fun of him. But to try to explain— And then she saw the white-haired waiter again, the one who had poured her coffee, the one who looked startlingly like Elhanu. He stood near the table, watching them, and as her gaze met his, he smiled, his dark eyes twinkling.

  He understood too much to lose it all. The words sounded in her mind as clearly as if he had spoken in her ear.

  You mean eventually he’ll remember me? Callie asked silently.

  You and all the rest of it. Quite rapidly now, I expect. Let him find it on his own, though. Rushing things will only distress you both unnecessarily.

  But I thought the rejuvenation process removed—

  Normally, it does. However, his mind was just so saturated with understanding that much of it is still there. Finding you will finally allow him to access it. He paused. But don’t concern yourself overly with the past, Callie. The future is what matters.

  He gave her a small nod, then set down his coffeepot and pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen beyond.

  She wanted to run after him but knew she wouldn’t find him. Not there anyway.

  “You know, that’s the weirdest thing about it,” Pierce said softly in her ear. “For the longest time I’ve felt I wasn’t in Colorado. That I was somewhere else, and that I was there for longer than two weeks. But that doesn’t make sense, does it? Because where else could I have been?”

  Table of Contents

  COVER PAGE

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT PAGE

  DEDICATION

  CONTENTS

  CALLED

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  TRANSFORMED

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  RAISED UP

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  EPILOGUE

 

 

 


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