by Barbara Lohr
“Your culinary skills surprise me,” she told him when she'd sampled enough to know that Alex knew his way around good food.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Taking another bite, he chewed slowly.
Her breath caught in her throat. Where was she? “Any other siblings? I mean, besides Kate?”
“Nope, just the two of us. Folks still live on the East Coast.”
“And they're professors?”
“Yep, they are indeed professors.” The words sure sounded like an indictment. “Every vacation we ever took was educational and built around their academic year. Civil War sites or places where some bill or other had been signed by our founding fathers. Nineteenth century homes that smelled of mold.” When he wrinkled his nose, he reminded her of Bo.
“Still, you were lucky to have them.” A musty old fort with two parents didn’t sound half bad when she thought of her own childhood.
“My folks are good people.” But there was no warmth in his voice.
“They must be proud of you.”
“Not really.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I was a hacker in high school who barely made it into Cornell, the college they’d chosen. No surprise when I promptly flunked out. Hard to explain to their colleagues. ADD. Attention Deficit Disorder. That’s me.”
“Oh, Alex.” Her heart twisted, feeling his hurt. “That’s pretty common, from what I’ve read.”
“Trust me, doesn't make it easier. Bo’s lucky. I bet you're a great mother.”
“I try.” She couldn’t tell him it never felt like enough—enough time, enough love, enough family experiences. “What then? After Cornell?”
His grin tilted. “I went out to the West Coast with some friends. Rented a ranch house where we brainstormed all night, drank beer and ate pizza. Security systems seemed a natural since I knew how to breach just about every configuration out there. Developed a company and then sold it. Right after we met, as a matter of fact.”
“Quite a success story.” Funny how those brown eyes could turn from hurt to cocky in a heartbeat. She’d Googled him after Eye of the Tiger, so this wasn’t all news to her. “Working on another project?”
“Always.” His eyes darkened, and she turned back to the lake.
Jumping up, he began to scrape the grill with a metal brush. Alex seemed to like keeping busy. Maybe it was his ADD at work. Meanwhile, dusk grew deeper, more intimate and a little uncomfortable. He brought out coffee, and they moved to the lounge chairs. The sound of lazy waves brushing the shore lulled her into drowsiness. She might fall asleep here if she wasn’t careful. As she glanced across at his lanky body stretched out on the chaise, something shifted inside.
There were a lot of things she might do here, if she weren’t careful.
The realization shocked her. Such a long time.
The signals her own body was giving her? Felt like a homecoming.
“How about you?” he asked, and she swung her attention back around. “Sounds like you grew up in Chicago before you took that job in San Francisco.”
“Sure did. Oak Park. Mom died when we were in grade school. Father is as good as gone. Grandpa Joe is the steady influence in our lives.”
When he leaned toward her, she caught the scent of red wine. “Did you get married right after that Las Vegas conference?”
Time to be creative again. "When we met, I'd, ah, been engaged.” Good lord, her tongue should turn black. “We’d broken up, but we got back together.”
Glancing up, she intercepted Alex’s level gaze. Somehow, she knew he didn’t believe her.
“Guess I should get going.” Shooting up, she started clearing the patio table, silverware clattering off plates as she tried to rescue them with shaking hands.
“Let me.” Too close, Alex smelled of sun and sand, laced with healthy male. His fingers grabbed for the dishes and caught her hands. Heat unfurled inside her like a whiplash. She jerked back, and the plates nearly went crashing.
Really? After all this time?
Looking up, she remembered it all. And he did too. She could tell from the fire in his eyes, the hitch of his breath. Good grief, they both were panting.
For him, she may have been just another casual hookup. One night like a lot of other nights. But Vegas had been different for her. She’d never completely lost it like that. Maybe she’d never forgotten her Vegas Hunky Hottie, but she certainly didn't expect this instant replay.
Backing away, she rubbed her hands against the skirt of Kate’s sundress. “Guess I’ll get on the road and let you take care of this.”
“Good idea.” Standing with his hands full of plates, Alex looked dazed.
Once inside the house, she shot up to the guest room and grabbed her things. In two minutes, she was springing down the steps to the car, her white suit bunched in her hands. “Thanks for everything. I’ll, ah, let you know…” she called back to Alex, following her down the stone steps. About what? Her mind was caroming from one thought to another. “…about the taping. Or the training.”
“Why don’t I give you a call? Jack and I will work out the details.” While he held the car door open, his eyes brushed her lips. They throbbed under one pass of her tongue. A five o’clock shadow dusted his chin. She ached to feel it and clutched the upper ridge of the metal door instead.
“Right. Maybe see you soon.” As she twisted to get into her car, she felt him at her back. The solid, muscled frame. Knew how it felt cupped around her. Knees weak, she leveraged her body into the heat of a car left in the sun too long.
Alex closed the door, and she started the engine, fiddling with the air jets until they hit her full on. With a wave, she headed down the long driveway. In her rearview mirror, Alex still stood there on the bottom step, looking a little lonely.
How she wished she hadn’t had such a good time with him.
Chapter 5
Wind tunneled between the tall buildings, the grit making Vanessa’s eyes smart. Times like this, she missed the breezy piers of San Francisco. Tightening her blue wrap dress around her, she searched the vintage brownstones for the address Jack had given her. The Near North Side of Chicago was full of them, sedate with a sense of history. Today, blooms wilted in trim flower boxes from the soaring heat. Finally, she spied Delamerced and Winston on a bronze plaque attached to a wrought iron fence. She marched up the steps to a huge green door. Darn thing was heavy when she pushed it open.
Once inside, she scanned the index. Jack had said third floor. The brass elevator doors opened with a whoosh, and she got on. The night before, Jillian had helped her work out a script. She clutched the black portfolio in both hands. Unlike her afternoon with Alex, this felt like a business meeting. Pushing her hair behind her shoulders, she wondered if a tight bun might work better for her. Maybe she’d just been too informal that day at the beach.
Today she was determined to stay on track. Jack would help her prepare for the advertorial, so necessary to getting their numbers up. Watching the buttons flash green as they passed floors, she tapped one of her black and white spectator pumps on the tiled floor.
“Behave yourself today,” her sister had teased before Vanessa left the bakery that morning.
“Sure. Right.” Vanessa was turning the apartment upside down, searching for her car keys. Bo had probably been playing with them. “Jack’s a gentleman.”
“And Alex isn’t?” Snagging the keys from the top of the coffee maker, Jillian tossed them to her.
“I didn’t say that.” Seeing her sister so perky made Vanessa both happy and sad. Next week was another treatment, another recovery period coming. "You’ve been awfully quiet since that meeting with Alex. That’s all I’m saying.” Jillian was nursing her morning coffee before knuckling down on a PR project for a client.
“Just busy, Jillian.” Okay, so the meeting with Alex bothered her. For four years she’d shut out men, mothering her top priority. Alex in his bathing suit? Of course he looked hot. But in Vegas he’d had eyes f
or all the girls. She knew the drill.
His invitation to the hospital gala, however, had unsettled her. She needed a dress fast.
With a musical ping, the elevator doors opened. Checking the signage, she made her way to the glass-paned door with Delamerced and Winston etched in gold. When she opened the door, a wave of toffee scented coffee hit her. Seated behind an enormous mahogany desk, a Barbie doll blonde looked up from a computer. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Vanessa Randall to see Jack Delamerced. I have an appointment.”
“Of course. Have a seat, hon.” The receptionist motioned to one of the leather sofas facing a huge coffee table layered with magazines. Hallways led in both directions from the spacious waiting room. Competing ringtones and the hum of voices spilled from open doors.
Jack’s office exuded success. The receptionist kind of didn’t fit, but what did she know?
Sinking into the sofa, Vanessa sat primly, portfolio on her knees. Jack had struck her as very professional and a little demanding at the Eye of the Tiger taping. Truth was, that was about all she remembered about him. She’d totally lost it once she saw Alex.
After a few seconds, Jack appeared, striding down one of the hallways with purpose. “Vanessa. So glad to see you again.”
“Jack, I really appreciate your help with the advertorial.” She’d forgotten how penetrating his blue eyes were. They shook hands.
“My pleasure. Marcia, hold my calls, please.” The receptionist nodded as Jack took her elbow and shepherded her down the hall. She hadn’t seen monogrammed cufflinks in a long time.
“Coffee?” Jack asked as they entered a chrome and black corner office.
“No, thank you.” Her heels sank in thick gray carpet. The office gleamed with expensive touches, subtle except for the framed awards lining the walls. “Please. Have a seat.”
Jack took the seat opposite her in one of the black and gray striped wing chairs in front of the desk. From his crisp white shirt to the crease in his gray slacks, he obviously took time with himself.
Five years ago, guys like him impressed her. After all, she’d met Ethan in a business meeting. Now? Polished men made her throw up barriers that would make the Wall of China look flimsy.
“Great view.” The windows overlooked the Near North Side, the brussel sprout tops of leafy trees bunched below.
“Chicago.” His smile widened, and she wondered if he bleached his teeth. “My home town and I love it.”
“Mine too.” Noticing photos of two little boys on the credenza, she relaxed against the back of the chair. For a few seconds they did the small talk thing. She asked about his work with the Eye of the Tiger group.
“The companies I’ve partnered with are doing quite well,” he told her.
“Glad to hear it.” She took the gleam in his eye as a promise. Still, she hoped for fabulous and fast, not just “quite well.” Lately, her body hummed with urgency. The medical bills kept coming. She was hoping for a deferment on her student loan, but the notice hadn’t arrived. Meanwhile, she had to get this business rolling. Jack and his advertorial expertise would sure help.
Resting his hands on the arms of his chair, Jack studied her. “So, where should we start?”
She pulled out her business plan. “Jillian and I worked this up. Alex has seen it.”
“He said your meeting went well.” Jack took the stapled sheets.
“Yes, we, ah, went over some things.” Had Alex mentioned the water fight? His invitation to the gala?
Scanning the plan, he nodded. “This community stuff is important.”
“Unfortunately, I moved back to town only recently, so I’m not as plugged in as I should be.”
“Mingling with the masses,” he murmured, still looking at the plan.
“What, you don’t approve?”
Looking up, he smiled. No doubt some women found Jack’s smile dazzling. “To tell the truth, I’m more of a media man.”
Media. Cameras. Lights. “Oh, I’d rather shake a few hands than stand in front of a camera any day of the week.”
He handed the plan back. “Vanessa, you’re attractive and accomplished. Why so nervous? You have so much going for you.”
“It’s just me,” she admitted with a laugh that went flat.
Reaching over, he gave her hand a squeeze of encouragement. “Nothing to worry about.”
She slipped her hand away. “I appreciate your help.”
“Let’s do a run through.” Jack sprang from the chair with athletic ease. “Why don’t we go to the conference room down the hall?”
The taupe hallway was lined with ads, and she recognized a lot of the companies. Vanessa felt almost heady as Jack spun tales of his clients’ successes. Employees who passed in the hall nodded with respect. From time to time, his hand fell to the small of her back.
Hmm. Had her experience with Ethan made her hyper vigilant when it came to men? How pathetic was that?
When they reached the conference room, Jack snapped on the lights. Done in warm browns and black, the room was modern and tasteful. “Did you take speech in high school or college?” He motioned for her to take a seat.
“Both. Not my favorite courses. My college professor said I was too much of a perfectionist. Told me in front of the whole class.”
“Whoa. That must have hurt.” Jack’s lips puckered in sympathetic disapproval.
“Just that kind of guy, I guess.” Bastard would be more like it. Her stomach rolled just remembering Professor Hobin’s candid critique. When the class ended, she’d made a beeline for the ladies room and promptly lost her lunch.
“Well, let's do a quick run through.” Jack went to the back of the room, where a small video camera was set up. After checking the focus, he signaled for Vanessa to start.
She’d just about committed the script to memory last night. Be nice if her stomach would settle down.
Vanessa did a dry run, but the words sounded wooden. Her voice shook a little, and it wasn’t lost on Jack. Lordy, the guy was even attractive when he frowned.
“How did that feel to you?” he asked when she finished, voice trailing off.
“Terrible.” Vanessa rolled the script in her hands. “Nerves, I guess.”
Moving toward her, Jack took her shoulders, eyes warm and level. “You’re so tense. Deep breath?”
Feeling like an idiot, she sucked in a shaky breath. Jack nodded with approval as her shoulders dropped a little. With this kind of patience, she bet he made a great dad.
“Take it from the top?” he suggested, stepping around to the small camera.
Vanessa dug in again, huffing a sigh of relief at the end. After a couple of adjustments, Jack played back Vanessa's presentation. “The studio will have a teleprompter with your copy. You have a very down to earth, genuine approach. Relax, kiddo.”
“You’re just being nice. I’m terrible.” So much depended on this advertising. She couldn’t blow it.
“Don’t be hard on yourself. You are going to nail this.”
“Can we try again?”
“Absolutely.” Jack was already setting it up. “Pretend we’re in a studio. Think of the people behind the camera and anyone else around as cabbages, sailboats, whatever works.”
Sailboats made her think of the day at the beach with Alex. She fell back on cabbages. “Forty years ago, my great-grandmother mixed up a chocolate cake recipe,” she began. This time, the words came easier. Her confidence grew, with Jack smiling encouragement. When she finished, he went through the script with her, pointing out word substitutions that might help the copy flow more easily.
“You’ll be fine,” he assured her. Sitting back, a shadow passed over his face.
“What is it? Was I that bad?” Old insecurities tightened her stomach.
“No. Sorry. I’m just a little preoccupied.” He blew out a quick breath. “In the middle of a divorce, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know.” And she’d been feeling sorry for herself. “How terrib
le for you…and your children. I saw the photos on your desk.”
“So painful, breaking up a family.” The guy looked so darn sad. His words came in painful spurts. “I thought my marriage would be, you know, forever.”
“Well, sure. Everyone does.” When she thought of his little boys, she couldn’t help thinking of Bo.
“But my wife doesn’t agree.” His blue eyes clouded, and he looked away. “Just can’t convince her.”
“I’m so sorry, Jack. If there’s anything I can do.” She almost felt honored that he was confiding in her like this.
His hand fell over hers. “Sometimes it just helps to talk about it.”
“It’s good to get it out.” Hadn’t her conversation with Jillian brought her relief?
Someone rapped on the door, and Jack pivoted in his chair just as the door swung open.
“Mind if I barge in?” Alex leaned against the doorframe.
Her stomach did a traitorous cartwheel.
“I think Vanessa’s going to knock the ball out of the park.” Jack got up to shake Alex’s hand. “She’ll do great.”
“As long as I believe in cabbages.” Vanessa slid her papers into the portfolio. Alex looked Impossibly cool in a tailored light blue suit with a gray pinstripe. The eccentric touch of another red bow tie only added to his charm. Women probably ate that up.
“Cabbages, huh.” Alex shrugged, his gaze brushing her wrap dress. Then he seemed to remember Jack was standing there and straightened. “Media placements?”
“I’ll get the schedule to both of you.” Was it her imagination or had Jack suddenly become more impersonal? He probably never had a heart-to-heart with another man about his divorce. Guys usually didn’t go for baring their souls with each other.
“When will the taping be?” She turned to Jack.
“Hopefully by the end of the week. I’ll give you a call. Want to get this going.”
“Definitely.” That old urgency hummed inside. “Any suggestions about wardrobe?”
“Just the basics. Avoid stripes or flowers,” Jack began with a matter-of-fact shrug that suggested Vanessa knew all this. But she didn’t. “No patterns. The cameras love blue so you might consider teal or robin’s egg. Like your dress today. No bow ties, though.”