One True Love

by Barbara Freethy

  "It's all taken care of," Raymond explained. "We have a wonderful consultant who is handling all of the details. Elisabeth and I just have to show up."

  "Where is Elisabeth? I thought you were bringing her with you today. She will be working on my account, yes?"

  "Yes, Elisabeth is a senior account executive and my best copywriter. Fresh, original, unique--"

  "Young," Beverly interjected with a pleasant smile.

  "Which is an advantage," Raymond continued. "She's much closer to the age of our target audience than Beverly or myself." He turned to Monty. "That's one of the benefits of my firm, Monty. We have depth and breadth of experience, the right person for every job."

  "It's too bad Elisabeth couldn't come today," Beverly said. "She's visiting a friend, right?"

  "A sick friend," Raymond said, noting the speculative look in Monty's eyes. He knew Monty considered his business to be valuable enough to put all other commitments aside. "It was an emergency."

  "It's nice of Elisabeth to be so caring to a sick friend," Beverly said. "I've probably lost a lot of my friends because I always put business first." She took a sip of her champagne and offered Raymond a triumphant smile.

  Damn, she was good, turning every positive into a negative. Maybe he should have promoted her all those years ago, then she wouldn't be here today stabbing him in the back.

  "I'm sure Monty appreciates loyalty," Raymond said.

  The other man nodded and gave a wide smile. "Of course. As long as it's loyalty to me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll get some food. That shrimp looks good. By the way, we're also serving prime rib in the dining room, and while the meat is exceptionally tender, the knives are especially sharp." His eyes twinkled. "Fair warning to both of you."

  "You're making a fool of yourself," Raymond said as Monty left him alone with Beverly.

  "I don't think so," Beverly said. "By the way, I won't need a ride home after all. Monty and I are going to have a quiet drink after the party is over."

  "The hell you are. I brought you to this party, and I'll take you home."

  "You're not invited, Raymond."

  "And you are? I don't think so. What are you planning to do, hang out until everyone leaves, then tell Monty your ride left without you?"

  Beverly smiled and put a hand through his arm. "Not a bad plan, is it?"

  "I've got a better one." He tipped his plate so that his shrimp cocktail sauce dripped down the front of her cream-colored linen suit.

  Beverly gasped in horror. "Raymond, how could you?"

  He stared at the stain in bemusement, not quite certain what had possessed him to act in such a desperate manner. But now that he'd done it, he might as well use it to his advantage. "Damn, I'm sorry. Listen, I'll take you home right now so you can change. We can slip out the back. No one will have to see you."

  She frowned at him. "That was a dirty trick."

  "You're the one who said no ground rules."

  "I thought you'd learned some finesse in your old age," she said, dabbing at the sauce with her napkin, which only made her look like she was bleeding all over her suit. "This is awful."

  Raymond smiled, realizing he felt younger at this very moment than he had in a long time. "It looks bad all right. I'll buy you a new dress."

  "You're damn right you will, and it will cost you a fortune. Count on it."

  "Come on, let's go." Raymond took her hand, but she shook it free, so she could wave her finger in his face.

  "You may have won this battle, but the war is not over yet. Not by a long shot."

  Raymond felt a rush of excitement at her words. He hadn't felt so energized in a long time. "I like a good fight. Just don't expect to end up on top."

  She smiled at his choice of words, and her finger suddenly drifted down the side of his face in a caress. "I always end up on top, Raymond. And trust me, when it happens to you, you'll love every second of it."

  * * *

  "Don't you love that burn? Is it the most incredible feeling you've ever had in your life?" Rocco asked Maggie, his square face glowing with almost orgasmic pleasure, as he pushed the pin into the next weight level and ordered her to do ten more repetitions.

  "I'm not sure I can stand this much pleasure," Maggie said, feeling her calf muscles catch fire. "If I get any hotter, you may have to call the fire department."

  "You can do it. Focus. Concentrate. Mind over body. You have to want it. Want it. Want it," he chanted.

  Maggie finished the last repetition and laid back on the bench. "I'm done."

  "Hardly. We haven't even begun to do your arms yet," Rocco said, extending her a hand.

  Reluctantly, she took it and sat up, gazing around the weight room as she did so. There were four men and three other women working out. "Is one of those women Serena, by any chance?"

  Rocco glanced around the room, then shook his head. "Nope. She's probably in the mud room or the sauna."

  "Why don't I do the mud now and skip the arms?" Maggie suggested. "I really want to catch Serena before she leaves."

  "We've got to do the machines in order, Ms. Scott, otherwise you'll be lopsided."

  Maggie had news for him. She was already lopsided. She'd had three children, for God's sake.

  Rocco didn't wait for an argument. He simply led her over to the next set of machines and prepared to torture her for another hour.

  Maggie occasionally caught glimpses of Jeremy Hunt as he went through his own workout. She had to admit the man had an incredible body. Long, muscular legs, a flat stomach, a broad chest and a nice tan. Besides his great physique, his hair was incredibly thick and wavy, his eyes a nice shade of brown. And he had a sexy smile, the kind of smile she'd often longed to see on her husband's face. But then Keith had not been the stuff of which romantic heroes are made.

  Keith hadn't been fat, but he hadn't put much stock in exercise unless it involved throwing a ball of some sort. He usually burned instead of tanned, and his hair had thinned considerably the last few years, leaving a rather large bald spot on the back of his head.

  She smiled fondly at the memory. Keith hadn't been a Greek god, but he hadn't been ugly either. And she'd loved him for far more than his physical appearance. He had been a good, honest and kind man, and she'd admired his superb intelligence. Plus, he had a bit of an adventurous streak. He'd always loved reading mystery novels and solving puzzles. He'd even taken her to one of those "murder" dinners where the guests had to solve the mystery of who was the killer among them. She remembered his zeal in tracking down clues, his imagination that led them down a hallway no one else had suspected was there.

  Of course, she'd matched him in the imagination part. It was the logical reasoning where he had shined. He didn't just imagine things, he planned them out with the precision of an algebraic equation.

  Maggie wished he were here now so he could solve this puzzle. Only there wouldn't be a puzzle if he were still here. With a sigh, she turned her attention to Rocco.

  "Looks like we're done here, Ms. Scott," he said, "It's time for your sauna."

  "You mean I get to sit in a hot room and sweat." She laughed. "I never thought the day would come when that would sound appealing."

  "Lara will take over from here." Rocco motioned to the young woman Maggie had met in the reception area. "She'll show you the rest of our facilities and lead you on to the Jacuzzi and mud room, and whatever else you'd like to experience."

  "Thanks. I appreciate it."

  His head swung around. "Oh, there goes Serena now."

  Maggie tried to see where he was pointing, but Lara stepped in front of her and all she caught was a glimpse of a hot pink t-shirt.

  "Are you ready to try the sauna, Ms. Scott?" Lara asked.

  "No, I want to find Serena."

  "Serena Hollingsworth?" Lara checked her watch. "Serena is on her way to start a tennis match. I doubt she'll have time to talk right now. It's a club tournament, and she's serious about her tennis."

  Maggie sig
hed. "Okay. I'll take the sauna and get dressed. Maybe Serena will be done by then."

  "They usually play for about an hour and a half, then they have drinks." Lara led her into the women's locker room. "I didn't realize you were a friend of Serena's," she said as she opened the door. "Although Serena sends us lots of her friends. Of course, they're usually male," she said with a small laugh.

  Maggie's suspicious antenna immediately went up. "Male?"

  "That's right. Serena says she meets a lot of men in her business."

  "What business would that be?"

  Lara shrugged. "I'm not sure. Judging by her jewelry, I'd say whatever Serena does is very lucrative."

  Maggie's imagination took those few words and shot ahead. Good heavens! Was Lara implying that Serena was a hooker, or a call girl? But there were dozens of other ways gorgeous young women could make money in L.A. She was reading into an innocent comment. At least she hoped she was.

  * * *

  An hour and a half later, Maggie ran out of the locker room and straight into the arms of Jeremy Hunt. Her stomach clenched, a shiver ran down her spine, and all the man had done was stop her from falling. Lord, she was pathetic.

  "Steady," he said, releasing her.

  Maggie felt ridiculously disappointed when he let her go, but she tried not to show it. "Sorry, I didn't see you. I guess I should look where I'm going."

  "You look great," he said, studying her freshly scrubbed face, her shampooed hair, the slight blush she'd applied to her cheekbones.

  "Really?" She self-consciously patted down her hair. She hadn't gotten it cut, but Lara had styled it away from her face in soft curls, and after being worked out, sweated, pummeled, soaked, dried, and finally made up, she felt like a new person.

  "How about that coffee?" Jeremy asked.

  Maggie hesitated, torn by the look of male admiration in his eyes and the desire to catch up with Serena. "Actually. I was hoping to find Serena. I heard she's playing a tennis match."

  "Right. I saw her a few minutes ago. She won easily, so she was pretty happy. She goes on to play a celebrity tournament in Santa Barbara next weekend. Come on, I'll take you out to the courts."

  "Thanks."

  "So, what did you think of the club special?" Jeremy asked as they walked through the exercise rooms and into the hallway.

  "I feel good right now. Tomorrow morning may be a different story. I'm not exactly in shape for the kind of workout Rocco put me through."

  "A few more like it, and you would be."

  "I'm not staying that long."

  "Where will you be going back to?" Jeremy asked as he opened the door and headed toward the pool area.

  Maggie blinked at the sudden blast of sunlight. She pulled out her sunglasses and put them on, pleased not just because they darkened the glare of the sun, but also because they protected her eyes from Jeremy's careful scrutiny.

  "I live in San Diego," she said lightly, preferring to name the larger city rather than the smaller suburb of Solana Beach.

  "I've never been there."

  "You should go. It's beautiful. We don't have nearly as much smog as L.A. and not half as many earthquakes."

  He grinned. "Is that the city slogan?"

  "No, but it's true."

  "Is someone waiting for you in San Diego?"

  "I have lots of friends there," she prevaricated.

  "Then why are you here?"

  "I told you -- Serena."

  He eyed her speculatively. "Yes, the lovely Serena. I still don't see you two as friends."

  Maggie paused as they neared the tennis courts. She suddenly realized that having professed to be Serena's friend, she could hardly ask Jeremy to point her out.

  "Well, what now?" he drawled as they both looked at the group of people in trendy tennis clothes sipping mineral water and chatting about the matches.

  Maggie didn't know how to answer him. Was Serena here or not? She bit down on her lip as she studied each woman. Serena had been wearing hot pink as she recalled, and none of these women were wearing anything remotely pink.

  "You don't really know Serena, do you?" Jeremy asked, turning her around so she had to look into his inquisitive eyes. "You're not her friend at all. Who are you? And what are you doing here?"

  * * *

  "Mother, what on earth are you doing here?" Lisa demanded as Silvia Alvarez walked through the front door of Maggie's house. Silvia wore a colorful peasant blouse tucked into an even more colorful skirt, adorned with a shiny gold belt. Long gold earrings dangled from her ears, sparkling against jet black hair that was pulled back in a bun, but which Lisa knew would drift down to her hips when released.

  "I came to help you," Silvia proclaimed, kissing Lisa on the cheek and gathering her into a warm hug.

  Lisa felt some of the coldness seep out of her body, as if Silvia's body heat were enough to warm them both. Silvia had always been fire and sunshine, colors and craziness. Lisa loved her mother very much, but often with a sense of bemusement that they could actually be mother and daughter. They were different in so many ways. And while Lisa appreciated her mother's sincere interest in her life, she was wary of exactly what course that interest would take.

  "You're too thin," Silvia declared, taking a step back so she could scrutinize her daughter. "And pale, too. Don't you ever let the sunshine kiss these cheeks?"

  Lisa stepped back before her mother could pinch some color into her face. "I'm too busy working to lay in the sun."

  "Grandma Silvia," Mary Bea shouted from halfway down the stairs.

  Lisa turned, shocked to see Mary Bea, who had barely given her a smile, run into her mother's arms -- as if they knew each other, as if they were family. But Silvia wasn't related to Maggie in any way. Silvia was Lisa's mother, and Lisa had cut her ties to the Maddux family eight years ago, long before Mary Bea had come along,

  "Did you bring me something?" Mary Bea asked.

  "Of course." Silvia opened her large canvas bag and pulled out a small package. "This is for you."

  Mary Bea knelt on the floor and opened the wrapping paper. She squealed with delight at the sight of a colorful beaded necklace. "It's beautiful. Gracias."

  "De nada." Silvia replied. "Your Spanish is getting better."

  "Can I show this to Roxy?"

  "Yes, and tell her I have something for her and Dylan, too." Silvia straightened and smiled at Lisa. "She grows like a weed."

  "You've seen her?"

  "Of course. I only live fifteen minutes from here."

  "But why?" Lisa suddenly felt left out. "She's not related to you."

  "Maggie was your best friend, your sister-in-law, and one of my favorite girls. I watched you grow up together. I couldn't divorce her simply because you did."

  Lisa flinched at the criticism. "I didn't divorce her. I divorced Nick."

  "And that's why you've seen Maggie only a handful of times in the past few years? When her husband died, you snuck in and out like a thief in the night."

  "I was busy."

  "That's right. You have a place to live, a great job, a new man, new friends. I'm surprised you haven't found a new mother yet."

  "Sometimes, I'm tempted." It wasn't rational to feel bothered by her mother's continued friendship with Maggie, but somehow she felt betrayed that her mother had chosen Maggie and even Nick over her.

  "Did you get the bracelet?" Silvia asked.

  "Yes, and that's another thing," Lisa said, feeling once again righteously indignant. "Where did you get it?"

  "From Nick, of course."

  "He said he hadn't seen it in years."

  "But he kept it." Silvia's dark eyes gentled. "For you. He kept everything for you."

  Lisa shook her head. "That's not true. I was at the house, and my room is changed and her -- her room is empty. My things are gone."

  Silvia didn't say anything for a long moment. Then she reached into her bag and pulled out her key ring. She worked the metal ring in her fingers until a single key slid o
ff. She handed it to Lisa.

  "What's this?"

  "The answer to your question."

  "I didn't ask one."

  "1427 San Vicente Boulevard. Number 134."

  Lisa stared at her mother, not sure if the address was supposed to make sense. It wasn't her mother's address. It wasn't Nick's.

  Silvia walked over to the side table and jotted the numbers down on a piece of paper. "In case you forget," she said, covering the key in Lisa's palm with the piece of paper.

  Before Lisa could reply, Roxy, Dylan and Mary Bea descended the stairs like a herd of cattle, each begging for their present.

  Silvia laughingly complied, pulling out a decorative wooden marionette for Dylan and a pair of hand-painted earrings for Roxy. The children were delighted with their gifts. Their exuberance, their loving hugs with Grandma Silvia, both touched and troubled Lisa. She supposed it was only natural that Silvia would visit with the children. She'd always loved kids. And she didn't have any grandchildren of her own.

  Lisa swallowed back that memory and tried to smile as Dylan showed her his puppet.

  "Maybe you could put on a show," Lisa suggested.

  "Cool." Dylan and Mary Bea ran off to the family room to plan their show, and Roxy headed for the phone to call her best friend.

  "Now that they're settled, I'll get started on dinner," Silvia said as she turned toward the kitchen.

  Lisa followed her mother down the hall, knowing it was pointless to argue. When her mother was on a roll, it was impossible to stop her. Lisa watched as Silvia pulled out various food items from her never-ending canvas bag.

  "You look like Mary Poppins," Lisa said grumpily. "I'm expecting you to start singing about a spoonful of sugar any minute now."

  "Maybe I will, if it would put a smile on your face."

  Lisa leaned against the counter. "Did Nick call you?"

  "No. Why would he?"

  "He doesn't think I can handle taking care of the kids for the weekend."

  Silvia sent her a steady look. "Is that what he said?"

  "It's what he thought. He spent the night here on the couch."

  "I'm not sure you have any idea what's going on in Nick's head."

  "That might be true," Lisa agreed. "So, how did you know I was here? Maggie?"