Nothing but the Best

by Kristin Hardy

"Anytime," Trish said, her voice already muffled with sleep.

  Sleep might have helped Cil a, but she was too keyed up for it. Drinking? Drinking was something you did for fun; it wasn't her brand of oblivion. So she watched the hours go by, dreading the morning, dreading the absence of hope.

  Dreading the prospect of seeing Rand again.

  In the end, she showered and dressed as the sun was rising, trying to camouflage the ravages of the night with makeup. No makeup could disguise the hol owness in her eyes, though.

  At 6:00 a.m., the office was silent, a balm for her wounded feelings. And so she worked on the proposal, polishing it, even as she weighed her options.

  By midmorning, she'd finished her draft and printed it out. To say that she settled on what to do as she saw the sheets come out of the printer was overcomplicating things; she'd known when she'd left the office the night before the only tenable choice.

  She went to her father's office.

  He was free to see her, which in and of itself was a rarity. He was in a bad mood, which was not.

  "What do you want, Cil a?"

  "A couple minutes of your time."

  "You're in my office, aren't you?"

  She approached his desk. "Here's the business plan for the Annex chain. It's just a draft, but we wanted to get your comments on it before the final version goes to the board."

  He took it when she handed it to him. It was hard, so hard to say the words. Then again, not saying them would be even harder. "I want off the Annex project," she blurted. He just stared at her. "It's running wel . I think I need to pay more attention to my buying right now."

  He slapped his hands down on the desk. "Al right, what is going on here?" He cursed, shaking his head. "I've seen a lot of things in my time. Plenty of people jumping off dog projects, people leaving boot prints on one another's backs they're rushing so fast. I've never seen people fighting to get off a winner."

  Cil a blinked. "What do you mean?" She hadn't expected him to be thril ed, and she probably needed to have her head examined, but it was the only answer. "I'm just making a simple request."

  Her father's face looked like thunder. "Who the hel is going to run this thing if you're al bailing out right and left?" he demanded.

  "Rand can take it from here. He's got it wel in hand."

  Her father snorted. "Hardly. Mitchel 's off the project. He was in here an hour ago."

  "For what?" she asked, stunned.

  "Tendering his resignation."

  19

  IT WAS AMAZING to Rand that Silicon Val ey could be so hot in venture circles and yet look so pedestrian. The predominant architecture was concrete Tilt-Up, usual y painted in fetching earth tones. Industrial area blended into industrial area, San Jose blended into Santa Clara which blended into Mountain View. Silicon Val ey was a crucible of high tech, but it could never be accused of style.

  Rand sat in the ninth-floor conference room at Future Technology Ventures, watching planes take off and land at the San Jose airport and waiting.

  Throughout the morning and early afternoon, he'd had meetings with most of the staff. The long working lunch with the investors had felt more like a strategy meeting than an interview. Now, he waited and amused himself by guessing how much the company paid for offices in one of the few area high-rises.

  "Rand, good to see you again."

  John Woodson walked into the room, fil ing it immediately with his energy the same way a good stand-up comedian claimed a stage. It was a good sign, Rand figured. Woodson had brought him up to San Jose to trot him out in front of the remaining investment partners and to see if he played nice with the other kids. It was the way Rand would have handled hiring him if he'd been in Woodson's spot: choose a handful of candidates he liked, try them out on the rest of the company and investors, but keep the final cal to himself.

  If Rand were a betting man, he'd say he'd made the short list the week before and was one of two or three Woodson-approved candidates who were getting the look-see.

  And he was about to move onto a shorter list stil . He rose and put out his hand. "John."

  Woodson shook hands and dropped into a chair. "I hear you've had a busy morning. Sorry I couldn't join you for the lunch with the partners, but it sounds like things went wel . So what do you think of our team?"

  Here it came, Rand thought. The dance had begun. "I think you've made some good moves, but it's time for you to make it to the next level. The market's ready for it."

  And he was ready for it, too. Rand wondered what Woodson would think if he knew that Rand had already quit Danforth. Somehow, he had a feeling that Woodson would respect it. You were either engaged in the work or you weren't, and if you weren't, there wasn't much reason for sticking around unless you needed a paycheck. Rand didn't, at least not for six or eight months. With the uptick in the market, he'd gambled that if Woodson didn't give him a job, someone else would.

  Woodson studied him. "Things are getting ready to take off. And I want you at the helm when it does."

  There it was, out on the table. Woodson appeared to be the variety of manager who knew what he wanted and wasn't tentative about recognizing it.

  Then again, you didn't get to be a top bond trader without a firm grip on the human psyche, above al .

  It was al coming together.

  He had to escape Danforth, pure and simple. He had to get away from the memories that reproached him at every turn. He knew the decision to resign had been right, for him, for Cil a, for the two of them together. Why, then, couldn't he forget the stricken look on her face, a face that had thinned visibly in a matter of days? He'd never been a cruel man. In his gut, he was certain that stretching out what they'd been doing would ultimately be crueler. And yet…

  And yet he stil loved her, and that was nothing that was going to go away anytime soon. But Woodson didn't want to hear about al that. Woodson was waiting for an answer, and Rand needed to move into his future.

  "I think it's an interesting opportunity," Rand said. "I'd like to hear more."

  Woodson's mouth twitched. "And just how much of the more is it going to take to get you?"

  This was a man he could work with, Rand thought suddenly, and for the first time he truly relaxed. "Let's talk about that."

  * * *

  EDISON FIELD was a sea of noise and color as the Angels played the Indians. Rand remembered as a kid, sitting up on the third level, bringing his glove religiously as though a bal might by some miraculous chance make it up to the nosebleed sections. Now, he and Wayne stretched out in the high-priced boxes, along the third base line. The Angels ran onto the field for the start of the fourth inning, their uniforms very white against the ruddy clay and emerald grass of the field.

  "So the VC opening's looking good, huh?"

  "So far. Looks like I'l be working out of San Jose, though they've got an office down here."

  "That's why you're looking like such a sad sack, because you're going to have to be apart from your girlfriend."

  "I'm not looking like a sad sack," Rand muttered. "And Cil a and I split up."

  "I thought something was up with you. When'd that happen?"

  "A week or so ago."

  Wayne nodded slowly. "Hence the job shift."

  "The job shift is a good career move."

  "And quitting Danforth before you had something solid in place, was that a good career move, too?" Wayne flagged the hot dog vendor as he walked past.

  "Danforth was something to fil up an empty slot on the résumé," Rand said, taking the dogs Wayne handed him. "The market's coming back. Even if this VC thing goes south, I'l find something."

  "In the meantime, scoffing a paycheck to go places like Milan wouldn't have been al bad," Wayne pointed out.

  Rand scowled. "I wasn't going to Milan anymore, remember? I was stuck here in L.A."

  "Oh, yeah, that's right. Working on that special project with Cil a, your no-longer girlfriend." Wayne doctored his dog with mustard and took a thoughtful bi
te. "Wel , you said that maybe working together and being involved would be a bad combination. No matter how stuck on someone you are, I guess it loses something once you're seeing them every waking minute."

  "That wasn't the problem," Rand said around his hot dog. They'd had their chal enges professional y, perhaps, but Cil a was a good partner. Her judgment was solid and she didn't shirk work. More, she was easy to be with, quick to laugh, slow to take offense. And that was just the Cil a by day.

  Cil a by night brought a whole new set of pleasures.

  Now, he couldn't figure out which was harder, seeing her or not seeing her. He'd thought getting away from her would get her off his mind, but she'd been in New York for the week and al he'd done was stare at her darkened office and think of her.

  "So if working together wasn't the problem, what was? I thought she was the überbabe to beat al über-babes."

  "She was." Rand set down his hot dog, appetite suddenly gone.

  "Did she suddenly turn psycho?"

  Rand watched the pitcher shake off signs from the catcher until he had the one he wanted. "No. She was great."

  "I can definitely understand why you gave her the boot. She sounds like a regular pain in the ass."

  "Look, we had problems, okay? She wasn't a team player."

  Wayne winced as if he had an earache. "Wasn't a team player? That's what the second baseman out there says to the outfielder, not what you say to your girlfriend."

  "I told you about her doing stuff on the project without tel ing me."

  "Do you need to be told everything?"

  "I need to be kept in the loop," Rand stated, feeling fresh irritation.

  "Wel , did she screw up or did her decisions work out?"

  "That's not the point."

  "That's right, it's probably your control-freak thing that's the point." Wayne finished his second hot dog and crumpled the napkins up into a wad.

  "What's that supposed to mean?" Rand demanded.

  "Sounds like you want to be running the show and you're ticked that she's not letting you."

  "It wasn't just work, it was stuff between us."

  "Yeah, so? Nobody gets it dead-on just out of the gate. Eckstein out there made an error last night. Do you see them kicking him off the team?"

  "Look, after a while, you're supposed to get it, aren't you?"

  "Wel , there's a while and then there's a while. What does she say?"

  Abruptly, Rand's anger dropped away, leaving only emptiness. "She's sorry. That she understands where I'm coming from now."

  "And does she?"

  "I don't know," he said simply. "That's the point."

  "So why did you break up with her if you don't know."

  Rand stared out at the field but he was seeing Cil a's face as she told him she loved him. "I don't know."

  And so they watched the game and Rand brooded.

  By the bottom of the ninth, the Angels were behind but attempting a ral y when the designated hitter came up.

  "Oh, perfect, this is just what we need," Wayne groaned.

  Normal y a strong bat, the DH was currently mired in a record slump that had been the talk of the sports news. He was the last person a fan wanted to see at the plate.

  "He's going to whiff or hit into a double play," Wayne predicted, shaking his head as the DH knocked the first pitch foul for a strike. "They should have taken him out and put someone else in."

  "Who? The guys on the bench are there for a reason." Rand stared intently at the batter's box, his body tense.

  "The batboy could do a better job."

  "He's the team's best guy," Rand maintained as another pitch blew by the plate for strike two.

  Wayne grimaced. "Not right now."

  The pitcher waited for the sign and set. "Look, when your best guy's slumping, you don't sit him down," Rand argued. "You stay behind him, let him work—" He stopped abruptly, realizing what he'd just said.

  The pitcher kicked and threw. "You let him work it out," Rand said slowly as the DH stepped into the pitch and swung, sending it arcing far, far out over the field and into the grandstands.

  "You give him another chance."

  * * *

  THE PROBLEM WITH business trips, Cil a thought as she plodded across the Danforth parking garage to her car, was that when you got home al the work was stil waiting for you. It wasn't as if elves came out at night and did it while you were gone. Nope, you got home and you worked late, just like she had this night. Stil , working late had one benefit, she thought as she yawned and imagined dropping into bed. Maybe for once she'd be able to sleep instead of lying awake with her mind ful of thoughts of Rand and what-ifs. What-ifs were profitless. Some mistakes you couldn't come back from. If nothing else, at least she'd learned that. Soon, he'd be gone and maybe she could start the process of forgetting.

  She shook her head at the thought. It was like tel ing a blind person to forget that they'd once been able to see. She'd never be able to forget. The best she might achieve would be to accept it and go forward.

  Cil a punched the unlock button on her key as she skirted around her car to reach the driver's side. It wasn't until she got in that she noticed the tilt.

  A tilt she remembered from the highway in the desert.

  And her with no spare. With a groan, she brought her hands up to cover her face. She'd known she needed to get a new spare after her adventure in the desert, and she'd meant to. The problem was that she'd always seemed to have something going.

  So here it was, after eight on a Friday night and she had a flat tire and no solution. At least Triple A wouldn't take two hours to get to her, but what the heck were they going to do when they got there? A headache began throbbing in her temples. Al she wanted was to get home.

  There was a knock at her window. "Need some help?"

  And she turned to see Rand. He looked thinner and a little tired and utterly delicious.

  And he was smiling.

  Hope sprinted through her. She rol ed down the window. "Hi."

  "Hi. Looks like you've got a problem."

  A flat tire wasn't a problem. Losing the man you loved was a problem. "I was thinking about cal ing a tow truck."

  "Real y?" He walked up to the side of her car. "Not thinking about changing it yourself, huh?"

  A chance, she thought, just a chance to make it right was al they needed. "I'd rather work with someone on that."

  "You could team up with me, if you wanted to." Rand opened her car door.

  "I can't think of anything I'd rather do more." And then she launched herself into his arms.

  He caught her to him. "God, Cil a, I've been going nuts without you. I was an idiot and I'm sorry," he murmured.

  She pressed her face into his shoulder, absorbing the marvelous, wonderful, stupendous reality of him. "I missed you, I missed you so much. I'm sorry I screwed everything up."

  "You didn't." He pul ed away and looked down at her. "Stuff happens in relationships. You talk it over and you get over it. My mistake was not listening, and wanting everything to happen on my timeline. That's not how it works." He framed her face with his hands.

  "I love you," she whispered. "I meant it when I said it the other night. I knew it the night of the reception but I was afraid of it. I was—"

  "I love you, too. I knew it weeks ago. I never said it to you and I should have."

  She stared at him in wonder. "Say it again," she murmured.

  "I love you." And he lowered his mouth to hers.

  The kiss flowed through her, buoying her up on a rising tide of joy. With this, there was nothing that they couldn't overcome.

  Cil a raised her head to look at him. "I know more now, Rand. I've learned from it, and I'm going to do better from now on."

  "We both are. I want you in my life, forever. I couldn't stand to lose you again."

  "You won't have to."

  He held her for a long, long time, saying nothing. At first, the closeness was enough, but gradual y, the heat of his
body against hers raised flickers of desire.

  And she could feel what it did to him in return.

  Final y, Rand stirred. "Let's get out of here," he said impatiently. "We've got some making up to do."

  "Wel , there's a little matter of a flat tire to deal with first," Cil a told him.

  "Flat tire?" He reached into his coat pocket and brought out a canister of compressed air. "What flat tire?"

  And she laughed and pul ed him close.

  Epilogue

  A WARM BREEZE whispered through the trees, teasing the white tablecloths, sending the strings of Chinese lanterns dancing. Vases of camel ias on the long tables smel ed sweetly of summer. The ceremony was long over, the celebration winding down to loosened ties and cast off shoes, relaxing and spending time with friends.

  Rand's fingers wound around Cil a's.

  "Happy?" he murmured to her, playing with the ring on her left hand.

  "As happy as I can ever remember being." She leaned over to kiss him.

  And the diamond flashed in the lantern light.

  "I swear," a voice said over their heads, "people get engaged and it's just public displays of affection everywhere you go." Delaney stood behind them, arms crossed, shaking her head. "Another one bites the dust," she said sadly, gesturing down the table.

  Sabrina looked up from where she stood, dressed in an absolutely simple column of ivory, her hair crowned with a circlet of creamy white Madagascar jasmine. "I heard that."

  "As wel you should. You were our first defector. I'm blaming your example for Cil a and Trish and Kel y. It's a wonder there are any of us single at al ."

  "Trish and Kel y are stil single, remember?" Kel y cal ed from where she leaned against Kev.

  "Technicalities," Delaney responded. "You're the next best thing to hitched, unlike us swinging single girls."

  "Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Thea said mildly, looking over from where she was chatting with Paige and another of her interchangeable innocuous men.

  Delaney flapped a hand dismissively. "I'l get to it when I get to it. Trish and Kel y are done deals. My bet's on you next."