“This is so good,” Sydney gushed, sipping on her smoothie. She handed me mine and sat down. “Did your parents have a nice visit?”
“Yeah. They’re easy to please for the most part. I think my mom was overwhelmed with the studio tour. She didn’t know where to look.” I laughed.
“We do have a snazzy newsroom. Too bad they couldn’t stay for the actual broadcast.”
“Just gives them an excuse to come back.”
“Have things settled down between you and Jeanie? I noticed y’all haven’t said more than six words to each other.”
“Whatever.” I waved my hand. “She’s convinced everything is my fault. There’s not much I can do to change that.”
Sydney pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. “Well, she needs to stop blaming everyone else for stuff. That breaking story last month wasn’t your fault. She wanted to go live with no information just so we could be first.”
“I know. The art of confirming information is apparently lost on her. Oh well. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I’d rather be late and correct than early and wrong.”
“Cheers to that.” She tilted her cup in my direction before sipping through the straw. “Violet wants to know if you’re coming to the lake house next weekend. She made something for you.”
“Really?” I grinned. Sydney’s precocious seven-year-old daughter was the cutest thing. “What is it?”
“A surprise. She won’t even tell me.”
“I love it. She’s too precious. Of course I’ll be there. It’s your big cookout. I wouldn’t miss that for anything.”
By the time we finished our smoothies, we were relaxed and ready to tackle the rest of the day. We chatted non-stop on the walk back to work. I stopped short after entering the newsroom. A colossal bouquet of roses sat on my desk. Sydney jogged over and buried her face in them, inhaling their scent.
“These are beautiful,” she sighed. “You’re so lucky.”
Amused by her dreamy expression, I touched one of the velvety petals. The perfumed scent of love swirled in the air, leaving behind a giddy trail of smiles. I was well aware of the stupid grin taking over my face. As much as I fought against becoming a swooning, mushy mess I could not deny this was totally romantic. Feeling lighter than air, I sat down and opened my email inbox.
To: Amelia Meyers
From: Alastair Holden
Subject: You…
…either think I’m a complete ninny or haven’t been by your desk in the past forty-five minutes. Put me out of my misery and let me know which one it is.
Yours, Alastair x
To: Alastair Holden
From: Amelia Meyers
Subject: You…
…might be the cheesiest self-professed no-relationships-non-dater I’ve ever met.
They’re beautiful. Thank you.
Lia xoxo
To: Amelia Meyers
From: Alastair Holden
Subject: Back to cheesy?
I make no apologies. The non-dater in me has no idea what he’s doing. I bet you’re smiling though.
So does this give me any chance to get lucky this evening?
Hopeful, ARH xx
To: Alastair Holden
From: Amelia Meyers
Subject: Chivalry Is Dead
Wow. You skipped right over “gentleman” and settled on “horny guy.” I would say the odds are good seeing as you’ve managed to charm most of the women in here with all these long stemmed beauties. In fact, one of the editors is staring at them right now with starry eyes.
To: Amelia Meyers
From: Alastair Holden
Subject: Decisions, Decisions
As flattering as that sounds, I’m only interested in the brunette American wearing a pinkish coloured dress. Is she available?
Yours,
Stuffy and British
To: Alastair Holden
From: Amelia Meyers
Subject: Out of luck
She’s taken. Her boyfriend probably wouldn’t appreciate her being propositioned in an email. Too bad for you. Rumor has it she puts out when roses appear on her desk at work.
To: Amelia Meyers
From: Alastair Holden
Subject: Smart Mouth
You, Amelia Grace, are filling my head with inappropriate thoughts. Thank goodness I’m protected by the walls of the supply closet.
I’m glad you liked the roses. See you in a few hours.
Yours,
Alastair xx
CHAPTER TWELVE
Traffic snarled through downtown, paralyzing cars at every opportunity. I looked out the window, glad I wasn’t the one driving through it. Orlando has its own special type of rush hour. Not only were the locals trying to get home after a long day, tourists were trying to go out and experience the city’s nightlife. Delays like this didn’t bother me too much. My adopted home had a certain charm I couldn’t deny. There was a reason its nickname was The City Beautiful.
The sun still burned in all its golden glory overhead, glinting off the glass windows of high-rise buildings. Living in perpetual summertime gave Orlando a uniquely debonair vibe. Everything was sun-kissed.
I relaxed into the SUV’s leather seat. Nagging questions regarding Alastair’s sudden trip to London still dominated my thoughts. Not wanting to work myself up over the unknown, I focused on the simplest reason; it was work related. He’d been spending a lot of time over here and probably needed to devote more time and attention to his company. The last thing I wanted was for him to neglect his duties. I could only imagine the pressure he was under from his grandfather. Samuel Holden might be retired but I had the impression he kept a close watch on the vast media empire he’d built. Alastair was more than capable of holding his own though.
The congestion cleared and it was smooth sailing back to my complex. Paxton didn’t say much even though I tried to engage him in conversation. He seemed preoccupied. Then again, he was driving. I waved goodnight after climbing out of the car. Not really knowing what to expect from Mr. Cool-As-Ice, I unlocked the door and walked into my apartment.
All the blinds were drawn. Only the soft glow from about a dozen or so candles lit the room. They were on the windowsills, end tables and coffee table circling everything like a warm and fuzzy ring of fire. I was not expecting him to go down this route at all. Studying my surroundings even closer, I noticed he’d rearranged the furniture.
A cozy pile of oversized pillows and blankets beckoned from the spot he’d cleared in the center of the floor. Shocked that he’d put so much thought into this, I remained immobile. I thought this was just supposed to be dinner. I should have known. Nothing is simple with him.
“Are you hungry?”
He leaned against the kitchen table, hands in pockets, gauging my reaction. He was still in his suit but had removed the jacket and vest and untucked his shirt. The tie hung loosely around his neck. Yeah, I was hungry. I wanted to peel the rest of his clothes off with my teeth.
“Keep looking at me like that and all this food will go to waste.”
Jesus, that accent.
“You’ve been busy,” I finally managed to say. “First the roses, now the candlelight dinner. Don’t use up all your romantic moves at once.”
He maintained a guarded expression. “I’m not romantic. I just wanted to make you smile.”
There was something off about him. My insecurities ran rampant. The roses. The candles. The cozy dinner. He’s going to break up with me.
“Why such a serious face?” I hoped my voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt. Raising an eyebrow, he flicked those bright irises at me.
“Amelia.” Calm severity wrapped aro
und each syllable. “This is important.”
Unsure if he was teasing me, I laughed nervously. “It’s only food. Don’t be such a curmudgeon.”
“How long have you been waiting to toss out that one?”
“Long enough.”
“Cheeky.” Uncoiling from his stoic stance, he grinned in a wickedly sexy way that made me want to spread him out on the counter. “Come.”
“Are you going to feed me?” I asked, slowly walking toward him. I swayed my hips just enough to bring attention to the way the soft cotton dress moved against my legs. He shook his head, running a finger over his mouth. Without saying a word, he pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“That’s all I’m getting?”
“For now, love.”
Disappointed, I turned my attention to the food. Two plates were sitting on the table. One was filled with various cheeses, the other with fruit. A bottle of champagne sat between them. My stomach snarled. He’d also ordered a pizza.
“There’s dessert, too,” he said, twisting a strand of my hair. “If you’d rather start with that.”
Unable to shake off this uneasy feeling, I tugged on his tie. “What’s going on in that head of yours, chief?”
His mouth curved. “Have a seat.”
Nudging me with his elbow, he tilted his head toward the pillows on the floor. I fluffed up a couple of them and sat. He joined me, stretching out to my left. My anxiety subsided the second he ran his hand along my thigh.
“Excited for Manhattan this weekend?”
“Yeah. I haven’t been in ages. Do you have anything planned for us?”
Hooking his arm around my waist, he pulled me down so I was lying face to face with him. The heated, intensely sexual stare he leveled at me answered the question. “Do you really want to know?”
“I think I can figure it out.”
“Contrary to popular belief I do plan to enjoy my time in the city with you in public doing tourist-type things.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes.”
I sat up. A brief glimmer of vulnerability illuminated his eyes, signaling a yearning I hadn’t seen in him before. I couldn’t stop my mind from racing, trying to figure out why it was so important that we went to New York this weekend.
“Such deep thoughts have been known to expedite the appearance of worry lines around the eyes.”
Jolted out of my own head by his silky voice, I looked up. He was at the table, holding the plates of fruit and cheese. Rejoining me on the pillowed floor, he set the plates between us and picked up an apple slice.
“How do you know my thoughts were deep?”
“Your face is an open book.” Grinning, he touched the apple to my lips. “Do you want this?”
I bit into it without breaking eye contact. He popped the rest in his mouth and reached for some cheese. We ate in silence for a few minutes, sizing one another up.
“Why did you go to London?”
Not breaking stride, he picked another apple slice off the plate and ate it. “There was an issue with a former client that needed to be fixed.”
He’s lying. I felt it in the pit of my stomach. His calm, measured response sounded rehearsed.
“What kind of issue?”
“The kind that demanded I handle it immediately.” His posture and tone indicated this discussion was over. For once in my life I chose to let it go and not press the issue. Besides, he’d gone through all the trouble of setting up my apartment for our dinner date. The least I could do was appreciate the here and now and not dwell on something I had no control over. I kicked myself mentally. Hard. Sometimes I was my own worst enemy.
“Again with the overthinking, love.”
His fiercely affectionate gaze took my breath away. Moving the plates out of the way, he urged me closer, circling his arms around my waist. We sat facing one another, legs entwined. I fidgeted with his tie, loosening it even more.
“Tell me something about yourself that no one else knows,” I said, unknotting the tie and sliding it off his neck.
“You’ve cornered the market on that already, kitten. There isn’t much else to tell.”
“Oh please. I’ve known you what, five minutes? There’s a ton of things about you I don’t know.”
“Like what?”
“When’s your birthday?”
Paling slightly, he tightened his hold on me. “It passed already.”
“Shut up. When was it?”
“April.”
“Really? Before or after we met?”
“It doesn’t matter. It passed already.”
“Come on.” I batted my lashes. “I might want to bake you a cake next year.”
He was not amused. “I don’t like talking about my birthday.”
“Why? Because you’re over thirty?” I teased.
The temperature in the room plummeted. His distant, cold stare shattered me. “No,” he said in a strained whisper.
“Okay,” I replied quietly. “You don’t have to talk about it.”
Baring his teeth, he exhaled sharply. “Shit. If I can’t talk about it with you then—” His fingers dug into the small of my back. “The twenty-ninth of April.” Staring at me with wide eyes he continued, “The accident that killed my parents and Grace happened because of my birthday. The picnic we were driving home from was for me.”
Heavy sadness washed through me. Not only did he blame himself for causing the accident, he also viewed a simple birthday picnic as the culprit. I did the only thing I could and hugged him tight. He sighed into me, unintelligible whispers tickling my skin.
“What kind of cake would you bake for me?” he asked after several minutes.
I broke our embrace. “What’s your favorite flavor?”
A shy, unguarded smile curled his mouth. “Amaretto.”
“Aren’t you fancy.” I snickered, wrapping the tie around my hands.
“That’s a Robert Talbott you’re twisting through those pretty little fingers.” He lifted an eyebrow in mock disbelief.
“Well excuse me,” I scoffed, slinging it around my neck and making a loose Windsor knot. “Is this more acceptable?”
He fingered the chocolate brown silk, wetting his lips. “You make everything better, love. Even this boring necktie.” He lowered his tone. “Even me. I can’t wait to take you away this weekend and pamper you properly. I’ve held back on showering you with lavish gifts and all the best this world has to offer for fear of scaring you off. That ends now.”
“Oooh. Are you going to send me to the spa?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Is there a pool at the hotel? We can go swimming.”
“We’re not staying at a hotel. My family owns a penthouse on the Upper West Side. It overlooks Central Park,” he said matter-of-factly.
I stared at him, shocked. The piece of cheese I’d planned to eat sat suspended in midair between my fingers. A brilliant smile lit up his face.
“I told you. All the best the world has to offer.”
Even though I’d known him for a handful of months the staggering reality of his wealth never really registered with me. Yes, his family’s media empire was, well, an empire. He never flaunted his money. Most times he seemed uncomfortable with it. I was slowly being introduced to yet another side to him; Alastair Holden, the filthy rich orphan who had the world on a silk string.
“To answer your question, there is a pool. It’s on the roof and it’s heated. You can swim to your heart’s content. I’ll be more than happy to watch.”
“You’re not going to join me?”
He fidgeted with one of the pillows. “I can’t swim.”
“What?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You heard me.”
I laughed in disbelief. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh but really? This sort of makes you,” I paused, “mortal.”
“What was I before?” he asked dryly. “A demigod?”
I playfully shoved him. “Shut up. I just f
igured you knew how to do everything. At least that’s the way you present yourself.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” he chided.
“You could never disappoint me.”
The room imploded with desolation and despair. He retreated back to that horrible place he did last night. My God, he looked so broken and defeated. Not one shred of his control or self-restraint was visible. I’d never seen him more exposed than in this moment. It scared me. His inability to mask the darkness inside him shattered me.
“Alastair,” I whispered.
“After this weekend, you’ll know everything.” His words held none of the melodic beauty from his accent. They fell flat. I didn’t know what he meant by this but figured it had something to do with why he went back to London so abruptly.
Lifting his hand, I kissed the palm and placed it over my heart. “There is nothing you could ever tell me that would change the way I feel about you.”
Wincing, he scowled and shook his head. “You’re so eager to give your love away to me.”
“And you’re so scared to give me yours. It’s a precious gift, Holden. One I don’t give freely and one I would be honored to receive from you. I know you love me. Your actions, the way you touch me, the way you look at me.” I paused, caught in his gaze. “The way you make love to me. You have me, body and soul.”
His eyes widened in fear and revelation. “I can’t…I haven’t said those words in so long,” he admitted in a hoarse whisper. Fixing a glossy-eyed stare on me he wet his lips. I pressed my forehead to his, hoping to soothe him.
“I love you.”
The whispered words tickled my ear and floated through my hair like a feather. If it hadn’t been so quiet in the apartment, I probably wouldn’t have heard him. The ferocity of his beating heart vibrated against me as he pulled me closer. I wanted to see him. I had to. Breaking our embrace, I looked at him. Overwhelming fear etched itself across his face. Oh, but those eyes. They burned with love. A quiet, intense calm consumed me.
“I love you, too.”
Relief flooded through him so powerfully he sank into the pillows. “Right then, I survived that.” He sighed.
“Did you really think I’d say anything different back?”
Unravel Me Page 12