"Prettier than Aunt Lisa?" Mary Bea quizzed, determined to spell out exactly where she ranked in the list.
"You're definitely the prettiest five-year-old girl."
Mary Bea tilted her head to one side as she considered his answer. "That's okay, I guess."
"Isn't she ready yet?" Dylan ran into the living room with his baseball bat in one hand and his mitt in the other. "I'm going to be late for practice."
"You have to drop me off at the movies first," Roxy said, following close behind her brother. "I don't want to look for my friends in the dark."
"Then I'll be even later," Dylan moaned. "Girls are such a pain."
"You're right about that," Nick said, commiserating with his young nephew.
Lisa stood up. "Why don't we take two cars? I'll drop off Roxy and Mary Bea, and you can take Dylan to baseball practice."
It was a good plan. Then they wouldn't have to sit in the same car together. In fact, they might be able to get through most of the day without seeing each other.
"Fine," he said. "Let's go."
"I'll just get my purse." As Lisa reached for her purse on the coffee table, the dog came bounding into the room, knocking her off balance. The purse fell from her hand, landing open on the carpet, the contents spilling out.
Nick squatted down to help her gather her wallet, lipstick and keys -- and the small white box that had somehow found its way into her purse.
"What's this?" Nick asked.
She tried to grab the box, but he lifted the lid before she could stop him. His jaw dropped at the sight of the charm bracelet. The pulse in the base of his neck beat frantically as the blood drained out of his face.
"Oh, God," he muttered as he ran the gold chain between his fingers. "Where did you..."
"My mother."
"Silvia. That's what she wanted," he said with a shake of his head. "The magic bracelet. I should have guessed."
"You have a magic bracelet?" Dylan asked. "That's cool. What does it do?"
"It doesn't do anything, and it's not magic," Lisa said. "I can't believe you kept it all these years, Nick." She looked into his eyes, searching for an explanation.
"It was in storage."
"Storage?" she echoed. "What storage?"
He set the bracelet back in the box and handed it to her. Then he got to his feet. "We'd better get a move on. Why don't you kids get in the car?"
"Nick?" she asked, as the kids left the room.
"What?"
"I thought you gave our stuff away."
He shrugged as he dug his hands into his pockets. "I didn't."
She pushed the box and other items into her purse and stood up. "Why not?"
"Does it matter? You told me to put all the pieces of our life into a garbage bag and throw it in the dump. Why do you care if I still have some of our things?"
"What else do you have?"
"Do you really want to know? Because I can show you. I can take you to our house, Lisa." He saw the blood drain from her face. "What's the matter? Afraid of ghosts?"
"We have to go. The kids are waiting."
"Just once I'd like you to stay and fight to the bitter end."
"I know how to fight, Nick. I fought until the horrible, horrible end. Remember? But I've moved on with my life. I'm not stuck in the past like you." She turned on her heel and walked through the door and down the drive to her car, where Mary Bea and Roxy were waiting.
Nick watched her slide into the front seat and turn the key in the ignition. Instead of the motor catching life, nothing happened. Lisa tried again. Another click.
"Come on. Uncle Nick, we're going to be late," Dylan called out from the front seat of Nick's jeep.
"Hang on a second." He walked over to Lisa's car, watching as she struggled valiantly to get it to start.
"I don't understand. I just had the car tuned up," she muttered. "It's supposed to be in perfect condition."
"Might have a dead battery."
"Do you want to jump me?"
He couldn't help but smile. "You bet."
"The car I mean," she said crossly.
"Of course. I don't have a jump. Come on, we'll take the kids in my car and figure out what to do with yours later."
"It has to start." She tried again, with no luck.
"Maybe you should use the magic bracelet," Mary Bea suggested.
"If it were magic, my car would start," Lisa grumbled.
"Guess you'll have to ride with me," Nick said, suddenly realizing how much he wanted her to come with him. He wanted a chance to show her what she'd turned her back on. Maybe it was ego, but dammit, he couldn't stand the way she looked at him, as if he was stuck in some sort of a time warp. "After we drop off the kids, we can go by the house," he said as she stepped out of her car.
"I have no intention of going to your house," she said pointedly.
He grinned. "Too bad. I'm the one who's driving."
Chapter Six
"Thanks for giving me a ride," Beverly said as she slipped into the front seat of Raymond's silver Lexus. She set her purse on the floor and crossed her long, slender legs, then flashed him a brilliant smile. "You're a peach."
He wasn't a peach. He was an idiot. Not only was he giving his competition a ride to a party hosted by the account they both wanted but the competition was Beverly. Beverly, who sent his blood pressure skyrocketing thirty points every time she opened her mouth. Beverly, who wore a sophisticated, sexy scent reminiscent of Chanel that completely swamped his senses. He had always found perfume on a beautiful woman to be erotic, sexual. But this woman was Beverly, not Elisabeth, and he had no business thinking such thoughts. He turned the key in the ignition and pulled sharply away from the curb.
"I love a man who likes to go fast," Beverly said with a small laugh.
Raymond suddenly had the sinking feeling that she could see right into his head. "I thought women liked men who went slow."
"Depends on what they're doing."
"Dammit, Beverly. It's one o'clock in the afternoon."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know there was a starting time on flirting."
"I'm not flirting with you. I'm giving you a ride."
"Have it your way." She sent him a curious look. "What do you think Monty Friedman will say when he sees us together?"
Raymond inwardly groaned. The CEO of Nature Brand would probably be amused, but then he'd deliberately pitted them against each other. Monty wanted to hire not just the best company but the toughest, the most willing to do whatever it took, the one still standing at the end of the fight, however dirty that fight might get.
"Monty's sister and I went to high school together," Beverly said idly. "Catholic school. She was a prig though, very straight. Wouldn't have dreamed of wearing sexy lingerie under her regulation plaid uniform."
Great, Beverly had an inside edge. He would have to watch her like a hawk. "I suppose you wore a garter belt?"
"It was red, very sexy. I thought I was so cool." She sighed. "Don't you wonder where all the time has gone? Every year, the days, the hours, the minutes -- all seem shorter. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to sleep. I feel like I'm missing something by wasting those hours in oblivion."
He knew exactly how she felt. His life had become a race against time, against his graying hair, his receding hairline, the rubbery muscles that never seemed to achieve the leanness of his youth no matter how many sit-ups he did.
"I envy Elisabeth," Beverly continued, "She's young, beautiful, thin, and, I hate to admit it, she's even nice. When she lets her guard down, that is. I saw her at the Children's Hospital Halloween Fair last fall. She was really in her element there, handing out balloons, painting faces."
"I don't remember her talking about that," Raymond said, reminded once again that Elisabeth didn't always share her life with him. Not that he wanted to be with her every second, but it still bothered him that she'd never mentioned her friend in San Diego. And that bracelet her mother had sent -- there was something odd about
it. He'd bet his last dollar it wasn't a wedding present at all. He'd met Silvia Alvarez once, and only then because she'd dropped in at the office unexpectedly. She hadn't liked him at all.
He doubted he'd see her again until the wedding. She and Elisabeth didn't seem to get along. In fact, sometimes he forgot Elisabeth even had a family; she so rarely mentioned anyone. In truth, he didn't really care to know them. He'd had enough of in-laws the first time around.
"I'm surprised you didn't come to the fair," Beverly continued. "Elisabeth designed the flyers and the posters for the event. They were excellent."
"She does first-rate work."
"That she does."
Silence fell between them as he stopped the car at a stoplight. Two teenagers walked slowly across the street. Their hair was sprayed various shades of red and green. They were dressed in black, smoking cigarettes, and looking as if they thought they were the coolest pair in the world.
Raymond glanced over at Beverly. She looked at him and smiled. They both started to laugh.
"Did we ever look that bad?" she asked.
"I suspect so. And I smoked, too. Didn't know any better then. I thought of myself as a rebel."
"Me, too. I gave my parents a lot of gray hair. My father was very straight, very religious. He even made me go to Mass every Sunday. When I got old enough to go by myself, I would hide my regular clothes in the bushes in the alley behind our house. As soon as I left, I'd change and go hang out with my friends." She smiled. "It feels like a lifetime ago. The good old days."
"Not all so good," he said with a sigh.
"Why do you say that?"
"I joined the Marines after high school, saw some action."
"My oldest brother was in the Navy. He still wakes up with nightmares."
"Me, too." As soon as he said the words, he could have cut out his tongue. He didn't know why he'd told her that. He'd never told anyone. Fortunately the nightmares came infrequently enough now that he didn't anticipate sharing them with Elisabeth. At least he hoped he wouldn't have to. He was too old to have nightmares, to need comfort. He was a man, goddammit.
"How come we never talked like this before -- when I worked for you?" Beverly asked.
"You were too busy trying to climb my ladder."
"And you kept pushing Jimmy and Larry and every other young male hotshot ahead of me."
"Are you claiming sexual discrimination?"
"I could have."
"I don't have a problem with women reaching the top. Elisabeth has never had any complaints."
"It must have been me then."
"You push too hard, Beverly."
"It's the only way I know how to get what I want. It's certainly never just come to me," she said with a trace of bitterness. "I wasn't always like this, you know. Once, I made the mistake of believing... Her voice drifted away as she turned to look out the window.
"What were you going to say?" he prodded.
"Nothing you'd be interested in."
But he was suddenly very interested in why her eyes were so bright, why she looked vulnerable instead of assured. "Tell me."
"You love to tell me patience is a virtue, but you didn't have to wait to get ahead. I've read about some of your past exploits in Advertising Age, how you bailed out on your first employer, stealing half the accounts."
"I didn't steal them. They came on their own, and Madison went bankrupt."
"Whose fault was that?"
His gut tightened. "You know, I could drop you off on this street corner and have Monty all to myself this afternoon."
Beverly shook her head. "No can do, Raymond. I told Monty you were giving me a ride, just in case you found a cliff to throw me over along the way."
"What did he say?"
"He said if we weren't both so stubborn and pigheaded, we'd probably make a good team."
"Yeah, what does he know?" Raymond growled as he turned off the street and into the long driveway that led up to Monty's Bel Air home. "You and I could never work together again."
"I agree with you."
"You do?" He stopped the car behind a gold Mercedes. "That's a first."
"But I think we could do other things really well together, if you didn't have such a youth complex. If you weren't looking to find young Raymond in young Elisabeth."
His jaw dropped at her bluntness. "Jesus, Beverly, do you ever think before you open your mouth?"
She shrugged. "It wastes too much time." She picked up her purse and opened the door. "Aren't you coming?" she asked when he made no move to get out.
"In a minute."
"Don't want to be seen with me? Afraid I'll ruin your playboy image?"
"Beverly?"
"What?"
"Find another ride home."
"Sure, why not. Maybe I can find a young, hard body, with a washboard stomach and bulging pecs. After all, if you can do it, why can't I?"
He shook his head in bemusement, "I'd wish you good luck, but I don't think you're the one who will need it."
"Raymond, as far as the account goes..." She paused, then grinned. "May the best woman win."
Raymond couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. She was a piece of work, but he was determined to win her -- make that beat her.
* * *
Maggie listened to the phone ring, two, three, four times, then the machine picked up. Damn, they weren't there. Then she remembered Mary Bea's birthday party, Dylan's practice, Roxy's movie date. Lisa was no doubt busy chauffeuring them around town. Maggie felt another surge of guilt at leaving the kids alone with a woman they barely knew. Lisa hadn't been around kids in ages. She was probably ready to tear her hair out. Maggie smiled at that thought.
As the tape beeped, she left her message. "Hi, it's Mom. I just wanted to see how you were doing. I hope you're not giving Lisa a hard time. Anyway, I'll call you later. I love you all. Bye."
As she ended the call, she debated whether she shouldn't just go home. The traffic along Sycamore Boulevard whizzed by, and the cars were all nice -- Lexuses, BMWs, even a Porsche. She looked at her serviceable mini-van and sighed. You could take the woman out of the suburb, but it was tough to take the suburb out of the woman.
Checking the map on the seat beside her, she realized the spa was just a few blocks away. She might as well stop in. She pulled back into traffic.
A few minutes later, she saw the sparkling white nude statues that Jeremy had described, and she knew she was in the right place. She turned into the driveway and pulled her car into a vacant spot in the lot. Once again the cars spoke of wealth, as did the elegant lines of the spa, which looked more like a stately mansion than a place to get sweaty and hit tennis balls.
After fighting back another urge to flea, Maggie stepped out of the car and marched up to the front door. She still felt out of place, but she was determined not to show it. Meeting Serena Hollingsworth was worth a little discomfort. She needed answers, and there was only one woman who could provide them.
The lobby of the spa was air-conditioned to a lovely state of cool. There were impressionistic paintings on the wall, glass tables and puffy white sofas resting on thick, luxurious white carpet. At one end of the room was a large half-moon reception desk.
As Maggie approached the desk, a very muscular young man stood up. He was dressed in a short-sleeve white polo shirt and matching white pants. "May I help you?" he asked.
Hans, as indicated by his nametag, glanced quickly down Maggie's body, obviously assessing her financial status as well as her physical attributes.
"I --" Now that she was here, Maggie wasn't quite sure how to proceed.
"Don't be shy," he said with a knowing smile. "We all have to start somewhere."
"Excuse me?"
"You've probably gotten busy with work and social events, let a few pounds slip on during the holidays, neglected your daily facial routine and morning jog, and now you're feeling like it's time to get rid of that old, dead skin and get ready for bikini season? Am I r
ight?"
"Exactly right," Maggie said, knowing full well she'd never put on a bikini in this lifetime.
"I'm always right," he said with a proud smile. "We have several different plans, and I'm sure we can find one that will suit you."
"Actually, I'm only in town for a few days. I'm not sure how long I'll be staying."
"No problem. We have a one-day special that lets you try out all of our facilities. In fact, we'll assign you a personal trainer to take you through our weight room and assist you with the cardiorespiratory machines."
"The what?"
"Elliptical, Treadmill, etc."
"Oh, of course."
"After your workout, you can take a sauna, Jacuzzi, swim in the pool, and end the day with a rubdown, massage, facial and manicure/pedicure session. In fact, I could probably get you into the salon if you'd also like a trim."
Maggie patted down her hair self-consciously. "You think I need a trim?"
"To go with the new you, absolutely."
"The new me." She liked the sound of that. "You can really make me over in one day?"
"We can get you off to a good start. I guarantee you'll feel like a new woman by the time you leave here today. In fact, you may not ever want to leave."
Maggie considered his statement. She needed to look for Serena, and she was bound to find her somewhere in the spa, according to Jeremy. Why not treat herself at the same time? But it was a lot of money. How could she possibly spend so much on herself? She had three children growing out of their clothes and their shoes and their bikes. Still, it had been a long time since she'd spent anything on herself. And if it would make her feel like a new person, how could she say no? If it helped her retrieve her sanity, it would be money well spent.
"All right," she said impulsively. "I'll do it. I don't have any exercise clothes, though, I was just coming to look."
"We can fix you up with clothes."
What the heck. She might as well go for it. After this weekend, she wouldn't spend anything on herself for the rest of the year.
Hans motioned to another man who'd just come through the pair of double doors leading into the exercise area. "Rocco, I have a customer for you."
Maggie swallowed hard as her gaze travelled up the long, stocky, powerful body of the man named Rocco. He was six foot five at least, built like a redwood tree, and rippling with muscles. Good Lord, Jeremy Hunt was right. L.A. was filled to the brim with beautiful people.
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