Day Leclaire - The Provocative Proposal

by The Provocative Proposal (lit)

  Uh-oh.

  What had Gray told her? It couldn’t have been much. If she knew everything, he doubted she’d still be sitting there. He reached the table and stood by the chair across from her. More than anything he wanted to gather her in his arms and give her all the sugar she’d ever need and to hell with the Committee. Not that she’d appreciate the offer. One glance warned that she’d focused her full attention on business.

  He fought for restraint, donning his most professional mask. “Should I sit?”

  “Only if you want to hang onto your job.”

  He pulled out the chair. Okay. So far, so good. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Me, too. I’ve just sat through one of the most em­barrassing lunches I’ve ever had the misfortune of ex­periencing.”

  He shouldn’t ask, but he suspected it didn’t really mat­ter. He was going to hear about it whether he prompted the explanation or not. “Embarrassing?” he inquired po­litely. “How so?”

  “Can the innocence, Shayde. It isn’t going to work.” She folded her hands in a neat little pile and compressed her mouth in a way that had him dying to ease it with a slow, deep kiss. “Just how well do you know Gray?”

  He met her gaze squarely and pushed all thoughts of kissing her from his thoughts. He couldn’t afford the distraction right now. He’d hoped she wouldn’t discover the truth about his friendship with Gray until after she’d won her promotion. But he’d been prepared for the issue to come up at some point. “I know him well enough.”

  His confession didn’t please her. “How well?”

  No way was he going to get out of this one. “We were college roommates,” he admitted.

  If he thought she looked annoyed before, it was noth­ing compared to how she looked now. Her pile of fingers squeezed into a white-knuckle grip and her lips com­pacted so tightly it would take one hell of a kiss to pry them apart again. “And you didn’t see fit to mention that minor detail before?” Somehow the words escaped her mouth, though he couldn’t quite figure out how.

  “I thought about it and decided it wouldn’t be a good idea. “

  “And why not?”

  “Because you’d have crossed Gray off your list.”

  That stopped her. “What do you mean?” she de­manded.

  “I mean that if you knew I was in a position to put pressure on the guy, you’d have refused to try and turn him. And why?” He shrugged. “Conflict of interest, of course. Same as with Adelaide.”

  “It was my decision to make,” she argued.

  “You’re kidding, right?” He sprawled backward in the chair, regarding her in frustration. “I knew what de­cision you’d make. Hell, sweetheart, you hired me at the mere suggestion of a potential conflict with Dick Smith. What do you call this if not a conflict of interest?”

  “You’re right. It is a conflict of interest, one I should have been told about.”

  “Okay, fine. Now you know. Are you going to solicit a donation from Gray, or not?”

  Sure enough, she shook her head. “I’m not.” “Why?” Not that he needed to ask. He already knew the answer.

  “Because he was your college roommate. He’ll feel obligated to contribute something and I won’t gain my promotion that way.”

  “Your promotion?” He felt his own temper rising to match hers and he leaned across the table toward her. “What about the benefit to Altruistics? Do you think they care where the money comes from or whether Gray writes a check because he’s an old friend of your fiance’s? I guarantee, they won’t. The check will get cashed either way and the money will help a slew of excellent causes.”

  “You don’t understand.” She leaned forward, too, un­til their noses came within inches of each other. “I have to get this promotion through my own efforts. I can’t accept outside help.”

  “Why?” he repeated, more urgently this time. “And why is how you get those donations more important than getting your hands on the money? Doesn’t the good it’ll provide outweigh every other consideration?”

  She opened her mouth, before closing it again. The fight drained out of her and she released her breath in a long sigh. “I’m overreacting, aren’t I’?”

  His anger faded and he leaned forward, covering her hand with his. “What’s going on, Tess? You’re taking this whole death before dishonor thing to an extreme. I don’t understand any of it.”

  “Shayde—” She stopped, unable to continue.

  “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he insisted gently. “Why is this so important to you?”

  She started to reply, but the words caught in her throat. To his concern, tears welled up in her eyes.

  Shayde didn’t hesitate. “Has the bill been taken care of?” At her frantic nod, he tossed down a few extra bills to cover their holding the table for so long and shoved back his chair. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Wrapping an arm around her, he escorted her from the restaurant. Passing Georgio, he signaled the elderly man that everything was under control and stabbed the button for the elevator. In a few short minutes they were transported from the top of King Tower to the parking garage beneath, and thirty seconds after that Shayde had Tess ensconced in the passenger seat of his Jag.

  Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he tossed it onto her lap. “Call your office and tell them you’ll be unavailable for the rest of the day.” To his relief, she didn’t argue, but placed the call. “My place or yours?” he asked the second she was done.

  “I think I could use a dose of incredible right now,” she confessed.

  Shayde nodded. “My place.”

  They completed the drive in total silence. He spared Tess a single glance and then didn’t look her-way again. He couldn’t, not if they were going to get to his apart­ment without stopping. She appeared utterly defeated and it was everything he could do to keep the car on the road instead of pulling into the nearest parking lot and demanding an explanation.

  It took forever to park his car, ring for the elevator and endure the endless ride to his floor. The instant they walked into his apartment, he slammed the door closed and wrapped his arms around her. He held her without speaking for a long minute.

  Finally, he said, “I don’t know what the hell is wrong, but I’ll do whatever I can to help. But you have to talk to me. What’s this all about?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  TESS relaxed against Shayde, absorbing his strength. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit she wallowed in it. It wasn’t that she really needed someone to lean on. For as long as she could remember, she’d always been the strong one. Others tended to rely on her, and she’d never hesitated to give everything she could to those in need. But for these few minutes, she’d take advantage of what Shayde offered with such unstinting generosity. It felt good. In fact, it felt more than good. It felt wonderful.

  Somehow his touch eased the constriction in her throat, allowing her to open up about the most painful experience in her life. “Did you know that in all our conversations, you’ve never asked how Robert died.” Sliding her arms around Shayde’s waist, Tess rested her cheek against his chest and clung to him. “Why is that?”

  His soft sigh shuddered through her. “I figured if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me.”

  When had Shayde’s gruff voice come to mean so much to her? At some point, it had rumbled its way deep into her pores and lodged close to her heart. “I want you to know.”

  He pulled back, glancing around the foyer with a frown. “Let’s go.” He kept one arm folded securely around her. “This isn’t the sort of conversation to have out here.”

  He led her deeper into his apartment, the short hallway opening into a sprawling living area. Floor to ceiling windows covered one wall and offered an uncomparable view of Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains. It was still too early for the first dusting of snow and the barren peaks stood out in craggy relief against a crystalline-blue sky. Tess crossed to the windows and allowed the spec­tacular vista to work its special br
and of magic. The tension eased from her muscles and filled her with a hard-won sense of peace.

  Shayde joined her at the windows. Cupping her shoul­ders, he drew her back against his chest. “Talk to me, sweetheart. How did Robert die?”

  “It was leukemia.”

  “Aw, hell.” His hold tightened and he lowered his head so his cheek rested close to her temple. He felt good. The scent of him, the heat generated by his body, his soothing touch-all of it enveloped her in a com­forting warmth. “That’s a rough one.”

  “Very rough,” she concurred, fighting back tears.

  “Tell me what happened. How long were you married when the doctors found it?”

  The memories were old and distant in some regards, and fresh and painful in others. How quickly life had changed after that one disastrous discovery. She and Robert had gone from being young and carefree to weighing each moment, fighting the passage of every precious second. “We weren’t married then. He was di­agnosed our senior year in high school.”

  She’d surprised him. “You knew Robert then?”

  “We were best friends most of our lives.” She smiled through her tears, remembering those halcyon days of picnics and hikes and childish squabbles. They’d grown from toddlers who’d splashed through mud puddles to­gether to gangly children playing ferocious games of tag to suffering through all the emotional upheavals of an awkward adolescence. And just as they’d teetered on the brink of adulthood, their life had come to a screeching halt. “As we got older, our friendship became something more.”

  “How did they discover the leukemia?”

  She fixed her gaze on the distant mountains, fighting for the balance and serenity the view usually inspired. How many days had she sought out scenery similar to this in the hope it would lessen the agony of those bleak times? Something about the enduring nature of sea and mountain helped calm the storm of rage and bitterness that had threatened to overwhelm her during the darkest years. She drew a deep breath, surprised to discover that Shayde’s presence made it easier for her to maintain her composure.

  “During high school, Robert’s life revolved around baseball. It was his passion. Not only was he our star pitcher, but his teammates unanimously voted him the team captain. About halfway through his final season, he injured his arm during a game. In the course of treat­ing the injury the doctors discovered a lump.”

  “I’m so sorry, Tess.”

  “You can’t imagine the outpouring of concern from the community. Robert inspired that sort of reaction in people.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You’d have liked him, Shayde. He was smart and generous and good-natured.”

  “You said Gray reminded you of him.”

  She nodded. “If you and Gray were close enough friends to room together during college, then you can appreciate the sort of man Robert was, even as a teen. He had this quiet fortitude about him.” She tilted her head back against Shayde’s chest. “Do you know, he went through all those hideous treatments without a sin­gle complaint? In fact, he’d go out of his way to en­courage the other patients and get them laughing again.”

  “When did you marry? After high school?”

  She shook her head. “No. We were too young and we both knew it. It wasn’t until we were in college. By then Robert’s leukemia had gone into remission and we thought he’d licked it.”

  “But he hadn’t.”

  “No.” That single, bald response said it all. “When did you decide to marry?”

  “At the end of our sophomore year in college.” It had been one of the few bright spots during those final months. “We were enjoying this gorgeous, balmy spring day. We’d just completed our last exam and were spread eagle in the grass, thrilled to have finished school for another year. We were young and giddy and high on life. Then Robert rolled over and proposed.”

  “Let me guess.” Shayde’s voice sounded rougher than normal, if that were possible. “You said, yes.”

  “You’re wrong. I think I told him not to be an idiot.” She glanced up and managed a grin. “Wasn’t that ro­mantic of me?”

  His expression softened. “I gather you were a prac­tical woman, even in those days.”

  “Extremely.” Her smile faded. “And then Robert grew serious and said that if he’d learned anything from his illness, it was to live life to the fullest, to seize the moment and squeeze every drop of enjoyment from it. Three hours later we were on a plane for Reno, Nevada. We were married that night.”

  “Wedded bliss didn’t last long, did it?”

  She shook her head. Tears filled her eyes again and she fought them back, struggling to keep her voice steady and dispassionate—not that she fooled Shayde. He turned her into his embrace and caged her within rock-solid arms. It was as though he were silently telling her that no harm would come to her as long as he held her, that he’d do everything within his power to hold her pain at bay.

  She rested her cheek against his chest, the steady beat of his heart underscoring his calm strength. “Right after the fall semester started, we discovered that the cancer had returned. I dropped out of school to take care of him.” She struggled against the growing thickness in her throat. “He didn’t even make it to Christmas.”

  Shayde smoothed his hand back and forth along the length of her spine. “I’m sorry, Tess. I’m so, so sorry. It must have been horrible.”

  “He was such a special person.” Her tears dampened Shayde’s shirt. “He shouldn’t have died.”

  “Don’t, sweetheart. Don’t torture yourself.” His words contained an underlying urgency, as though he truly had absorbed a portion of her pain. “Robert had you in his life. That must have made a huge difference to him.”

  “I’m glad we married,” she stated fiercely. “I’m glad we had that much time together.”

  “And I’m sure he felt the same way.” He waited while she regained control, holding her without speak­ing. After a few minutes he said, “I gather Robert’s death brings us to your job at Altruistics.”

  She nodded. “And the reason I seem obsessed with gaining my promotion through my own efforts.”

  “I assume you went to work there after Robert’s death. And that the reason you chose Altruistics is be­cause of all they’ve done to help find a cure for leu­kemia. “

  “Yes.”

  “But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

  “Yes,” she said again. “A lot more.”

  “Did you go back to college?”

  “No. A week after the funeral, with a mountain of bills to pay, I walked into the offices at Altruistics and filled out a job application.” She could still feel the lin­gering shadows of her long-ago desperation, even after all these years. “Al Portman interviewed me.”

  “And hired you.”

  “He hired me instead of a more qualified person.” As usual, Shayde was quick to make the connection. “Because of Robert.”

  She nodded. “You’ve got it. Only I hadn’t told him about my husband. He found out when he checked my references.”

  “And ever since then you’ve been doing everything you can to prove that you’re as capable as that other person.”

  He’d reached the most logical conclusion and she didn’t bother denying it. How could she? It was the truth. “If I seem a little zealous in the pursuit of my job, I hope you’ll understand.”

  “Oh, I do understand. All this time you’ve been wor­ried that Al Portman might have made a mistake and the people who will pay the ultimate price are those Altruistics was designed to benefit.”

  His words stung, prompting an instant response. “Don’t you understand? The job is more important than the person doing it.”

  Shayde shook his head. “What I understand is that the person currently doing the job is the best one for the position.” She’d never heard his voice so tender. “You, more than anyone, realize how vital the work is, how important the contributions are that ensure that work continues.”

  “But this woman
—”

  “May have been eminently qualified. But it’s obvious Portman saw something in you he didn’t see in this other candidate.” Shayde gave it a moment’s thought. “If I were to guess, I’d say he saw heart. He saw that you’d put everything you had into the job, that you wouldn’t take no for an answer or get discouraged easily. Or have I misjudged your character?”

  “I’d do anything—” Her voice broke and she angrily brushed aside her tears. “I’d do anything to keep from losing another person the way Robert was lost.”

  “Which is what you’re going to tell Walt Moore.”

  His comment stopped her cold. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the third Impossible.” Steel un­derscored the compassion she read in his expression. “He’s an Impossible whose wife died of leukemia. You must have read it in his file.”

  Tess shook her head. “I’ve never capitalized on Robert’s death and I don’t intend to start now.”

  “Capitalize?” A hint of anger colored the word. “How about empathize. How about going to the man and letting him know that you know exactly... exactly... what he’s feeling. That this is a disease that takes young and old, alike, and there’s something he can do about that.”

  “I don’t know if I can talk to him about Robert. Even after all these years, I can barely talk to you about him.”

  Shayde clasped her shoulders in a touch of both re­assurance and support. “Then Walt Moore will see that and understand. And if he doesn’t, nothing you say will make a difference, anyway.” His hold tightened. “But maybe, just maybe, it would help him to know there’s something he can do, that his contribution might even­tually make a difference for another man’s wife.”

  She didn’t think she could go through with it. How could she open up to a complete stranger the way she had to Shayde? It was too personal, too intimate. It cut too close to feelings she’d suppressed for close to a de­cade.

  Once again he read her thoughts. “It’s time to share your husband with others, Tess. It’s time to put a face on the man who’s responsible for your working at Altruistics. You don’t need to feel guilty any longer.”