by Cindi Myers
“You people are so boring,” Zephyr said. “Trish and I are going to Moab for a week of biking, hiking and soaking up the sun.”
Angela turned to Bryan. “What are you doing for mud season?” she asked.
“Working,” he said. “Carl’s going to a conference in St. Louis, so I’m in charge while he’s away.”
“Watch out, it’s the boss!” Zephyr put up his hands in mock fear. “I’ll be thinking of you, stuck in the five-day-a-week grind while I’m barreling over those red rock single-tracks, bro.”
“You do that,” Bryan said drily.
“I have to go now,” Zephyr said, standing. “Moose Juice is rehearsing tonight. We’re playing at LoBar Saturday night.”
“If you don’t need us for anything else, we’ll be going, too,” Max said, helping Casey with her coat.
“No, we’re good.” Bryan stood. “Let’s meet back here next Wednesday and coordinate everything for Saturday.”
Goodbyes were exchanged and within minutes Angela and Bryan were alone at the table with a stack of plates and empty pizza boxes. “Thanks for coming out to help us,” he said. “I knew you’d have good ideas.”
“Thanks for inviting me. I’ve been saying I should get out more with non-theater people. Expand my social circle.”
He shifted in his chair. “What Zephyr was saying, about those women wanting me to chase them. Don’t pay any attention to that. He’s full of it.”
“I don’t think he’s so far wrong, really,” she said. “You have a reputation as a popular guy.”
He flushed to the tips of his ears, a reaction that only endeared him to her more. It would be so much easier to resist him if he were vain or more of a braggart. Then again, she probably wouldn’t have ever been attracted to a man like that.
“I guess I have dated a lot of women, but I was never serious about any of them,” he said.
“You don’t have to justify yourself to me,” she said. “Honestly.”
She started to move away from the table, but he blocked her path. “But I feel I do,” he said. “I don’t want you thinking I’m some slacker playboy. Yeah, I used to live that life, but I’m headed in a different direction now. Working at the Elevation is only the beginning. I have plans. I’m not a slacker, and I’m not a corporate drone who plans to sit behind a desk the rest of my life.”
“I don’t think that about you.”
“Then what do you think?”
She felt flustered, put on the spot. How honest could she afford to be? “I think you’re a smart, hard-working, ambitious guy. You’re good-looking, but you’re not vain about it. You’re loyal to your friends. You have a good sense of humor. You’re really nice.”
“Nice.” He spoke the word as if it was a curse.
“Niceness is underrated,” she said. “There’s too much meanness in the world, so when I say nice, I mean it as a real compliment. Now, I really do have to go.”
She moved past him. This time he didn’t try to stop her, though she could feel his gaze on her as she hurried across the room and out the door.
Coward, she scolded herself as she jammed her keys in the ignition of her car. Why didn’t you stick around and ask him what he thought of you?
Because as much as she could be brave in the make-believe world onstage, reality often left her shaking in her shoes.
She didn’t know which would be more terrifying—hearing that Bryan thought of her as just a girl he could have a few laughs with…or that he wanted much more.
Chapter Six
Friday afternoon found Bryan checking the time every ten minutes, anxious to be out of the office for the weekend. The toughest thing wasn’t dealing with hotel guests, navigating office politics or even pretending to laugh at Carl’s jokes; it was having to show up every day, all day, subject to the company’s schedule. Years of freedom on the slopes hadn’t prepared him for such restraints. As five o’clock slowly ticked closer he began gathering his belongings, ready to make a quick escape.
At ten minutes to five, Rachel strolled into the office. “Some friends and I are going into Gunni tonight to party,” she said, leaning one hip against his desk and fixing him with a provocative smile. “Want to come along?”
“Thanks, but I’ve got other plans.” He pretended to focus on the spreadsheet on the computer screen in front of him, hoping she’d take the hint.
“Do you have a hot date? Someone new I don’t know about?”
“No, I don’t have a date.”
“I’m sure we could fix that.” She leaned over and peered at the computer screen.
“I’m not interested.” He kept his eyes focused on the spreadsheet, though he could have been looking at Sanskrit for all he really saw of what was there.
“Hmmph.” She straightened. “This job sure has changed you.”
The words stung. “What do you mean?”
“You used to never pass up a chance to party. You were so much fun. Now you never want to do anything. You’re boring.”
First nice, now boring. At this rate, no one would believe he’d ever been a chick magnet. “Sorry to disappoint you,” he said drily, and began shutting down the computer. He glanced at the clock. Two minutes to five. “I really have to go now.”
On her way out of the office, Rachel almost collided with Carl. “Bryan, I’m glad I caught you before you left,” the manager said. “I need you to stay late.”
Bryan stifled a groan. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“We have a tour group from Japan coming in this afternoon. They were supposed to be here by four, but their plane has been delayed and now they won’t be here until six. I need you to stay to greet them and make sure they have everything they need.”
Bryan’s stomach churned. “Can’t the front desk handle that?”
Carl shook his head. “These are executives with a resort development firm from Hokkaido. We want to treat them like VIPs and that means personal service from a manager.” He checked his watch. “I’d stay, but my wife’s parents are coming in from Detroit and I have to be at the Gunnison airport in less than an hour to pick them up.”
“Of course I’ll stay,” Bryan said, swallowing his disappointment. “I’ll make sure to roll out the red carpet.”
“Great.” Carl clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll check on them tomorrow. My in-laws want to get in some skiing while they’re here. You have a good weekend.”
“You, too,” Bryan said. Though this wasn’t the start he’d pictured.
The Japanese VIPs arrived at six-fifteen. By the time Bryan had bowed and shaken hands and escorted them personally to their block of rooms overlooking the slopes, it was almost seven. He practically ran from the hotel and drove as fast as he dared down the mountain toward Crested Butte.
Parking on Elk Avenue was nonexistent; he had to park several blocks away and walk back to the Mallardi Cabaret. He hurried to the lobby and handed over his ticket, then slipped into the theater. The first act of I Hate Hamlet was already underway, and he found a seat near the back.
Angela was onstage, almost unrecognizable in her character of a matronly real estate agent. She had the audience’s full attention and delivered her comic lines with perfect timing. Bryan watched her, riveted. The woman onstage—a plump, somewhat dowdy older woman full of cynicism and wisecracks—was nothing like the attractive, fashionable, warm and sensual woman he knew. This ability to transform herself intrigued him.
At intermission, he joined the throng of people in the lobby. He was sipping a cup of lukewarm punch when someone jostled his elbow. “Bryan, my man!” Zephyr clapped his hand on Bryan’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Dressed in faded maroon cords, a well-worn, brown leather bomber jacket and a black T-shirt advertising his band, Moose Juice—illustrated with a large, drooling moose—Zephyr definitely stood out in the sweaters-and-jeans crowd. For that matter, Bryan’s suit was a little out of place, though he saw a few men in sports coats, and several
women in nice dresses.
“What are you doing here?” Bryan asked. He’d never pictured Zephyr as a fan of live theater.
“Trish is trying to teach me culture,” he said.
The woman in question approached and handed Zephyr a cup of punch. “Plus, we got free tickets,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“After working with the theater people on the fund-raiser, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” he said.
Trish’s gaze remained fixed on him with all the intensity of a missile-guiding laser. “Uh-huh. And are you enjoying the play?”
“Yeah, I am. It’s funny and the actors do a good job.”
“Angela and Tanya in particular,” Trish said. “They’re very talented.”
“Yeah, and Tanya is hot,” Zephyr said.
Trish glared at him and his grin faded. “Not as hot as you, babe,” he said, and put his arm around her.
Mollified, Trish turned to Bryan again. “There’s a little party after the show. The actors and their friends. You should stop by.”
“Maybe I will,” he said.
“Yeah,” Zephyr said. “You can get to know Tanya better. Maybe ask her out—Hey!” He dodged a sharp poke from Trish’s elbow. “I’m just trying to help out a friend,” he protested. “He said he wanted to find someone to settle down with. Tanya’s got a kid. That sounds pretty settled to me.” He winked at Bryan. “And I think she’s your type.”
“What, exactly, is my type?” Bryan asked.
“Dude, you don’t know?”
“I want to know what you think is my type.”
“Easy.” Zephyr held up one hand and began counting off on his fingers. “She has to be smart. You never went for dumb blondes. She has to have a sense of humor, ’cause you’re a fun guy. She has to have her own money. Not as important now that you’re so gainfully employed, but always a plus. And she has to be a looker, natch.”
“Of course.” Trish rolled her eyes. “You men!”
“What?” Zephyr gave her a hurt look. “Don’t tell me you weren’t attracted to me because of my looks.”
“Guess again, hotshot.” She looked at Bryan thoughtfully. “Actually, I think when Bryan falls in love, it will be with someone he never expected to be attracted to,” she said. “Someone he never thought of as his type at all.”
“Nah!” Zephyr protested. “Why do you think that?”
She smiled at him. “What do you think happened with me?” She tugged at his arm. “Come on, it’s time to get back to our seats. See you later, Bryan.”
“Yeah. See ya.” Bryan tossed his cup in the trash and returned to his seat, pondering Zephyr’s list of requirements for Bryan’s right woman. Angela was smart, funny, and she had her own successful business. That left a looker. According to Zephyr—and if Bryan was honest, himself before he met her—Angela didn’t qualify under the standard definition. Lookers were fashion models, cheerleaders or women who could be. The kind of women Bryan had always dated before.
And yet, Angela was beautiful. She had real curves and an earthy sensuality that left him a little breathless whenever he was near her. So—smart, funny, successful and beautiful. The perfect woman for him. The idea made him a little light-headed. Angela wouldn’t even go out with him. He obviously wasn’t her ideal.
The play resumed and once more Bryan was caught up in the performance. When it ended, he stood with the rest of the audience to applaud while the actors took their bows. When Angela stepped forward, he let out an enthusiastic whistle, causing heads around him to turn. Let them wonder.
While the crowd surged toward the exit doors, he fought his way upstream toward backstage. He found Angela there with a group of women. “Angela, that was great,” he said when he’d made his way to her side.
She turned to him, eyes glowing. “Bryan! I didn’t know you were here.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it,” he said. “You get my vote for best actress.”
She laughed. “I’ll tell the Academy to give you a call.”
“We’ll see you at the party, Angela,” one of the women said, and the others agreed, then wandered off, leaving Bryan and Angela alone as the area emptied.
“I’m glad you came to the show,” she said.
“I almost didn’t make it. I had to work late and missed a few minutes of the first act.”
“Is this the first time you’ve been to the Cabaret?” she asked.
“Yes. Shame on me, I guess. I never thought about it much until I met you.”
“I have to get out of this makeup, but a bunch of us are having a little get-together at Austin Davies’s house in C.B. South,” she said. “Would you like to come?”
He told himself she was inviting him solely as a friend—the way she would have invited anyone she knew who stopped backstage after the show. But he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to spend more time with her. “I would,” he said.
“Good. I’ll meet you in the parking lot in about twenty minutes. We can take my car—there isn’t a lot of parking and he’s asking people to share rides.”
“I’ll be waiting for you.” He couldn’t remember when he’d so looked forward to spending time with a woman. Maybe it was because he sensed Angela holding herself back from him that made him so interested in pursuing her. Was it only a case of wanting what he couldn’t have?
Or did something more lie at the heart of his attraction to the woman who was as sweet and complex as any of her decadent chocolate creations?
AUSTIN DAVIES LIVED in a two-story, modern, cedar and glass chalet in Crested Butte South. By the time Angela and Bryan arrived, the house was already crowded with people. As they squeezed past clusters of partygoers, working their way farther inside, Angela was acutely aware of the man at her side. Opening nights always had a heady effect on her. The audience’s response to her performance had left her unable to stop smiling, feeling almost as if she were floating on their accolades. But when Bryan had come backstage to greet her, to tell her how wonderful he thought she’d been, she’d felt as elated as if she’d been awarded a Tony or an Emmy.
She blamed this giddiness for her impulsive invitation to him to join her. The crowd at the party would allow her to enjoy the pleasure of being around him without the danger that she’d say or do something to reveal the intensity of her attraction to him. The truth was she’d scarcely stopped thinking about the man since the first day he called her on the phone. She’d managed to combine the fixation of a schoolgirl crush with a mature woman’s out-and-out lust. This dangerous combination meant dating the man was out of the question. If the two of them spent any significant time alone, she might very well self-combust, and the possibility that he might reject her advances was too painful to risk.
“Should we get something to eat?” Bryan asked. “I didn’t have a chance to grab dinner before the show.”
“I never eat before a performance,” she said. “Now I’m starved.”
One good thing about having a leading man with money: you could count on a good spread at the after-party. Austin had hired a caterer, who had laid out a gourmet feast. Angela and Bryan filled their plates with hot artichoke dip, bacon-wrapped shrimp, skewered chicken, meatballs and mini quiches. Suddenly, Angela was ravenous. She had an entire mini quiche in her mouth when she realized Bryan was watching her.
So much for any illusions he might have had that she was anything close to dainty. The women he dated probably nibbled around the edges of finger sandwiches and sipped white wine spritzers instead of inhaling plates of food like a hog at the trough. She managed to swallow the quiche and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I saw the food,” she mumbled.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” He shoved a whole quiche into his mouth and nodded enthusiastically as he chewed.
Was he making fun of her? She searched his eyes, but saw no hint of mockery.
They moved away from the table and almost collided with Tanya. She’d excha
nged the red sequined cocktail dress she wore in her role as Felicia for a black cowl-necked sweater and black jeans and boots. Angela eyed the attractive man trailing her friend. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him.
“This is my brother, Ian,” Tanya said, solving the mystery.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ian,” Angela said, shaking his hand.
“Mom and Dad are around here somewhere,” Tanya said, searching the crowd.
“I’ll go look for them,” Ian said. He nodded to Angela and Bryan, then moved away, and was swallowed by the crowd.
“Did you really bring your brother as your date to this party?” Angela asked, giving Tanya a stern look.
“Our whole family came together,” Tanya said. “Except Annie. She’s with a sitter.” She turned to Bryan. “It’s good to see you again,” she said.
“The play was terrific,” Bryan said. “You did a great job.”
“Angela’s the real star.” Tanya squeezed Angela’s arm. “My role is easy compared to hers.”
“She is terrific, isn’t she?” Bryan’s smile was as bright as any spotlight and made Angela feel just as warm.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“It was good to see you.” Tanya squeezed her arm again. “I have to go rescue Mom and Dad from one of Austin’s monologues.”
“Tanya seems really nice,” Bryan said when she had moved out of earshot.
“She is,” Angela agreed. “She’s also gorgeous and talented and really smart. I can’t understand why she’s still single.”
“Maybe she likes it that way,” Bryan said. “Not everyone wants to pair up, you know.”
“I don’t think Tanya is alone because she prefers that,” Angela said. “And I know guys ask her out all the time, but for some reason, she’s never hit it off with anyone.”
“Maybe she’s waiting for the one right person,” he said. He took her elbow and began steering her through the crowd once more.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Somewhere we can sit and talk. It’s really crowded in here.”