High Society Secrets

by Karen Booth

  Clay dropped his head to one side, knowing that whatever she was about to say would likely make his life more difficult. “What’s that?”

  “Promise me that you will at least be open to the idea that love might find you again. It doesn’t have to be with Astrid and it doesn’t have to be right now. You don’t even have to be open all the way. Just a little bit. I hate the idea that one person hurt you and you aren’t willing to try again.”

  “I’m not sure that advice helps me for my trip to LA with Astrid.”

  “For that, I want you to have fun. You’ve worked too hard for too long not to simply enjoy the ride.”

  Miranda had officially not helped him get anywhere with his thinking, but she wasn’t responsible for his inability to see clearly on this matter. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

  “Daddy!” Delia ran back into the room with a look of pure concern. “I’m waiting.”

  Clay couldn’t help but smile at Delia. “I know. I’m coming.”

  “Clay? One more question,” Miranda said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Any thoughts on which direction I should point Astrid in when I go dress shopping with her?” Miranda got up from the couch and rounded it to face him.

  Clay couldn’t begin to formulate an answer to this question. “I have no earthly idea. Surprise me.”

  Miranda snickered. “I’d be careful what you wish for.”

  * * *

  Most people probably assumed that a former model would live to shop for clothes. The truth was that Astrid saw it as a necessary evil, especially with her job, where she needed to look the part of capable businesswoman. Attending the awards ceremony with Clay would require a far different look than was appropriate for the office. She was relieved she was going to have Tara and Miranda on hand to be her sounding board.

  She met them downtown at Ruby, an exclusive high-end boutique, early Friday evening. The store manager, Cherise, had a bottle of champagne on ice for Tara and Astrid, and for Miranda, she’d brought in a smoothie from a juice bar nearby and sparkling water. Cherise had also taken much of the deliberation out of this process by pulling two dozen dresses from their extensive selection, after speaking with Astrid on the phone and finding out the nature of the event and what Astrid wanted.

  Tara and Miranda set their purses on a brilliant fuchsia velvet settee. Above them, chandeliers dripped with crystals and provided soft lighting, while a plush white carpet beneath their feet made every step feel luxurious. The three of them began the process of perusing the gowns the manager had selected.

  “What sort of look are you going for?” Tara asked.

  Astrid glanced at Cherise. This had been a difficult thing for Astrid to put into words during their phone conversation. “Classic. Beautiful. Tasteful. But still sexy.” Astrid pinched her thumb and index finger together. “A little sexy. Nothing too over the top.”

  “Smart. You’ll be in a room full of nerdy architects. You don’t need anyone fainting or going into cardiac arrest,” Tara said.

  Astrid laughed. “That wasn’t my worry. I was thinking more about professionalism.”

  “You don’t want to play it too safe and look like you walked straight out of the office.” Miranda chose a slinky black gown from the rack. “How about this?”

  Astrid considered the dress, which had a very low neckline and an especially slim silhouette. If she’d been going for full-on seduction, it would have been a no-brainer. But this was a work trip and Astrid intended to dress accordingly. “I think that might be too sexy.” Plus, she didn’t want to be the center of attention that night. It was Clay’s accomplishment. She was his support system. But still, she could imagine the silky fabric draping her bare skin, and what it might feel like to stand next to him while wearing it. Every nerve ending in her body would come to life, a torment she wasn’t sure she could endure. To feel that sexy while with the man she couldn’t get out of her head, when she knew that it was in everyone’s best interests to keep things professional? That would be a waste of a perfectly beautiful dress.

  “What about this?” Tara offered another choice, a simple off-white strapless gown.

  “Elegant, but don’t you think that’s a little bridal?”

  That turned Miranda’s head. “If anything is going to terrify my brother, it’s a wedding dress.”

  Astrid had wondered about the fate of Clay’s marriage to his daughter’s mother but had been understandably terrified to ask him. She only knew that he was divorced. “Was it that bad?”

  “Yes. She ripped my brother’s heart out and walked all over it with the wardrobe of Louboutin and Jimmy Choo shoes she bought after cleaning out one of his investment accounts and subsequently moving to the Maldives.” Miranda rolled her eyes. “Like she needs all those heels in a place where there’s nothing but beaches.”

  Astrid was floored. She had no idea it had been so dreadful. Was that part of the reason Clay was so closed off? “How could a woman do that? And leave behind her child?”

  Miranda shook her head in disbelief. “I have no idea. I mean, I’m sure my brother is not easy to be married to, but he was devoted to her and he would do anything for Delia. I don’t know what else she could have possibly wanted from him.”

  Astrid felt as though her heart was being tugged from her chest to her throat. The thought of what Clay had been through was so sad. “That’s so awful. I feel terrible for him.”

  “Me too,” Tara added. “Every time I hear that story, it sounds more and more unbelievable.”

  “Oh, it happened,” Miranda said. “I was there for the aftermath and trust me, it was not pretty.”

  “Hence the fear of wedding gowns,” Tara said.

  “Precisely.” Miranda returned her attention to the rack of dresses. “Let’s get back to a topic that’s a bit more fun. Like finding you the perfect gown.”

  A few more minutes of browsing and they decided on three options, then Astrid went into the fitting room to try them on. The first two were instantly rejected by Tara and Miranda. One was deemed too drab and the other too ill-fitting. With less than a week until they left for the ceremony, there was no time for major alterations. Astrid tried on the final option, an off-the-shoulder navy blue gown with a fitted bodice and full skirt. It was absolutely gorgeous and struck the perfect balance between professional and sexy.

  “I think this is the one.” Astrid zipped open the curtain and emerged from the fitting room.

  Tara and Miranda looked at Astrid, then at each other. “Yes. That’s it,” they said in unison.

  “It’s perfect,” Miranda added. “My brother is a lucky guy to have you as his date that night.”

  “It’s not a date,” Astrid quickly followed.

  Miranda cleared her throat. “Right. Of course.”

  Astrid took one more look at herself in the full-length mirror. When she swished the skirt, she realized there was a high slit hidden in the folds. “Do you think this is okay?” she asked, kicking it open.

  “With your legs?” Tara asked. “Yes.”

  Astrid smiled and shook her head, then retreated into the dressing room, relieved this much was decided. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. She changed back into her regular clothes and asked Cherise to ring up the dress. Then she took a seat with Tara and Miranda.

  “I wanted to ask you both about something. Johnathon’s brother, Andrew, has a development firm up in Seattle, right?”

  “He does,” Miranda answered. “Why?”

  Astrid pressed her lips together, wondering if she was pulling at seemingly random threads. “Tara, do you remember Sandy? She was already working at Sterling when I started.”

  “Of course I do,” Tara answered. “She was on staff when I started as well. In fact, Grant gave her the job of being my assistant on my first day. She’d been working with Johnathon
and knew about his interest in the Seaport project. She was able to help us deal with the city.”

  “And then she disappeared. At the most inconvenient time as I remember.”

  Tara downed the last of her champagne and got up to pour herself another glass. “It was a total nightmare. She vanished on the Friday before the presentation. Grant and I spent all weekend trying to fix the mistake Clay made.”

  Astrid was still putting all of this together, but she was certainly suspicious that something wasn’t quite right. “That’s what always bothered me. The idea that Clay would miss a detail like the site orientation. I’ve worked with him for nearly two months now and he simply doesn’t make errors like that.”

  “Anyone can mess up,” Miranda said. “Even my brother, the control freak.”

  Astrid sighed. “Okay, well, here’s the thing. I ran into Sandy the other day at the bakery across from the Sterling offices.”

  Tara’s eyes grew impossibly large. “You did? Did you talk to her?”

  “Of course I did. I wasn’t going to leave without trying to find out what happened. She said that she’d been moonlighting while at Sterling. Then something about her other boss pulling her away. Something about owing him a favor. When I asked what the other company did, she said it was a development firm in Seattle.” To Astrid’s great surprise, the theory that had been tumbling around in her head didn’t sound nearly as half-baked now that she’d had the guts to say it out loud. “That got me thinking about Andrew. He’s in Seattle. He has a real estate development firm. He and Johnathon had been estranged for years. Andrew didn’t even come to Johnathon’s funeral.”

  “Right,” Tara interjected. “And Grant and I ran into him in San Diego two weeks later, which seemed really odd to me. He could come to town for a baseball game, but he couldn’t show up to pay his respects?”

  Miranda shook her head. “I don’t know where you two are going with this, but remember that Andrew reached out to me when he was here right after you and Grant saw him? He came over to the house. We had a very nice conversation. He was contrite and apologetic. He felt bad that he hadn’t come to the funeral.”

  “So you don’t think he’s capable of interfering with Sterling?” Astrid asked.

  “I think it’s cute that you want to explain away my brother’s mistake, but I really don’t see how Andrew could possibly do anything like that,” Miranda said. “What would Andrew get out of it, anyway? Silently tampering with a job? It seems like if he was trying to get even with Johnathon, he would have done something considerably more public. Now that Johnathon is gone, it seems even more unlikely.”

  “Maybe,” Astrid said, gnawing on her finger. “You’re probably right.”

  “How did you leave things with Sandy?” Tara asked.

  “I told her that if she needed a job, she should call me. She was a great employee, even though she quit with no notice. And something told me not to burn that bridge.”

  Tara pursed her lips. “Let me know if she calls you.”

  “Oh, I will.” Astrid’s mind was swirling with the details. None of it seemed to add up. And maybe that was Miranda’s point. Astrid’s theory went nowhere and she needed to leave it alone.

  Four

  Clay wanted to believe that he saw things others couldn’t. Possibilities. Potential. His sister Miranda, a gifted interior designer, was the same way. It was a talent they’d both seemingly been blessed with at birth, and according to their grandmother, they got it from their mom. Not that either Clay or Miranda was ever able to confirm this for themselves. She’d left them behind when they were still young.

  This talent made Clay quite good at predicting how a situation would go. As much as he’d been thinking about the trip to LA for the Architect of the Year award, he had not seen it happening like this—Astrid in the passenger seat of his Bentley SUV, distracting him in every way imaginable. It was more than just her beauty and beguiling smell, a most intriguing mix of spring rain and vanilla. He’d trained himself to ignore a few of her more alluring qualities. But Astrid was a fidgeter. She couldn’t sit still. She was constantly shifting her weight in her seat, adjusting the direction of the air vents in front of her, and straightening her clothes.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, hoping there was some way to make it stop. He needed to keep his eyes trained on the road and she was drawing his attention every few seconds. If there was a problem, he desperately wanted to fix it. He was already on edge knowing the awards show was awaiting him that evening.

  “It’s not like you to ask how I’m doing,” she quipped.

  “And it’s not like you to not offer a long-winded answer that somehow manages to weave in your entire life story.”

  A breathy burst of indignation left her lips, and she smacked his leg with the back of her hand. “You’re so mean.”

  He couldn’t help it, but the strike and her accusatory tone made him run about five degrees hotter. “I’m just being honest. You do like to tell people everything about everything.”

  “That’s better than being so closed off. You don’t tell anyone anything.” She leaned forward and shot him a sideways glance with narrowed eyes. She had the most expressive face he’d ever seen, and of course, the most beautiful. “It’s one of your most annoying qualities.”

  A corner of his mouth betrayed him by twitching with the beginnings of a smile. Astrid was normally so painfully kind that it felt as though he was dying a slow death. He liked it when she was being spirited and calling him out. He felt as though they were on a more even playing field. “If you want me to talk, I’ll gladly share the things you do that drive me nuts.” Your chest heaves before you sigh, which is often. And you are constantly gathering your hair in your hands, twisting it, and pulling it over one shoulder, when all it does is fall back into place in a pleasing cascade of waves. And I see you laugh when you talk to other people, and your face lights up like the brightest sunrise. You never laugh when you’re around me.

  “Just tell me. You can’t hurt my feelings.”

  Oh, but he sensed that he could. She’d tried to play things off the night he attempted to quit the Seaport project, all under the guise of wanting to work through their problems, but he’d sensed that he was getting under her skin. It was the only thing that had made him back off. He knew she could hurt him, but he didn’t have it in him to do the same to her. That was part of what made her such a dangerous, unknown quantity. “You ask a lot of questions. Personal questions.”

  “I’m trying to understand you. You are a puzzle.”

  “Do you think you can solve me?”

  “I know I can. It might take some time, in part because you’re hiding so many of the pieces.”

  He knew very well what she was getting at—she’d asked about Delia that day in the office when she’d brought him doughnuts and was trying to mend things between them. It had been an admirable attempt and he’d swatted it away, but she had no idea how deep his instinct was to protect Delia. “You asked about my daughter the other day. What do you want to know?”

  “Is this a trick?” The thicker part of her Norwegian accent came out when she was particularly skeptical of something.

  “No. I’m not saying I’ll tell you everything, but you are free to ask.”

  “I don’t know a thing. What’s her name? How old is she?”

  “Her name is Delia and she’s five years old. She’s in kindergarten.”

  “What is she like? Is she like you?”

  “Are you asking if she’s grumpy and no fun at parties? Because those would be odd qualities for a five-year-old.”

  She unleashed a quiet laugh, and it did something to him. It propped up his ego and made him want to try for more. “I meant is she brilliant? Is she very smart?”

  He hadn’t been prepared for that question at all, but he wasn’t surprised that Astrid would pick up on everythi
ng, even the things he tried to downplay. “She is exceptionally smart. I’m certain she’ll eventually outpace me in that department.”

  “What does she like to do?”

  “She loves books and playing outside. She’s crazy about anything with a rainbow on it or that sparkles. She’s very observant, so she likes to take it all in.”

  “Just like her dad.”

  “It’s true. I do like rainbows.”

  Astrid burst into even more laughter, the musical tones filling the entire car. “That’s not what I meant. I was talking about being observant. You love to sit back and watch. You study everything and then decide what to do.”

  “You aren’t wrong.” Her insight was uncanny, which was remarkable considering they’d only known each other for two months. He did do that, but it was simply his personality. He was far less likely to make a mistake if he took in all available information first before formulating a plan or making a decision. Being precise and measured always paid off. And the times when he hadn’t done that, the times when he’d followed his heart without thinking too much, he’d ultimately paid a steep price.

  “What about Delia’s mother? Miranda told me a little bit about her. I’m so sorry.”

  Just like that, whatever happiness he was feeling about having this effortless back-and-forth with Astrid went up in thin air. He had to wonder what his sister had been thinking when she’d shared details of his personal life with Astrid. “Next topic.” He didn’t want to be cruel and cut her off, but he also didn’t want to explain what had happened. How does a man go about illustrating the greatest rejection of his life? That would only lead to more questions. His marriage was contained in Pandora’s box, and he wanted it kept closed.

  “I knew I’d hit a dead end with you, eventually.”

  He had to turn this around—he couldn’t take any more tension between them. Not with the nervousness of the awards show ahead. “What about you? Why don’t you tell me more about you? I don’t know much other than that you and my sister both married the same man.”