Third Time's a Charm

by Virginia Smith

  Tori sat straight up in bed, her heart pounding. She put her hands on each side of her head and squeezed, gulping huge draughts of air. What a horrible nightmare! She peeked beneath the covers, just to assure herself that her satiny pink pajamas hadn’t morphed into a fashion disaster while she slept. Reassured, she collapsed backward onto her pillow, willing her pulse to slow.

  She hadn’t had a dream like that in years, not since college when she used to have nightmares about showing up for class and realizing she had no clothes on. Those dreams had produced the same explosion of heart-pounding horror and deep panic. This one was perfectly explainable, though. They’d uncovered those horrible shorts in one of the boxes of Grandpa’s clothes up in the attic yesterday, along with the brownie uniform and the crown. The coffee . . . well, the origin of that was obvious. And her anxiety over the pictures locked in the trunk of her car, not to mention the competition with Mitch for the Maguire account, was very real. Mitch’s words in the dream resounded in her ear. You are such a fraud.

  She heaved a sigh and tried to expel the lingering feelings of disquiet with the breath. It wasn’t real. Just a bad dream, the result of a stressful day topped off by hours of work. What time had she finally gone to bed? Sometime after four. She turned her head toward the nightstand and opened a bleary eye to check the time—

  And jerked upright for a second time. Eight fifteen! She’d overslept.

  Her watch read nearly nine thirty when Tori stepped off the elevator with her handbag dangling from one shoulder and her laptop case from the other. Fran, the firm’s receptionist, looked up from the computer monitor resting on the corner of her reception desk. She lifted her arm and made a show of looking at her watch.

  “You’re late.” Her pencil-etched eyebrows rose. “Kate’s called twice.”

  Tori stopped mid-step. “She’s supposed to be on a flight to Chicago.”

  Fran planted both elbows on the desk and rested her chin on her palms, her acrylic nails sparkling in the fluorescent light. “Her plane was delayed. She’s sitting in the Lexington airport.”

  Great. She’d taken her time getting dressed, counting on the fact that she’d be in the office by the time Kate landed in Chicago. If her boss had opted out of leaving a message and dialed the receptionist to find her, she must be irritated. “Why didn’t she call my cell phone?”

  “She tried. It went straight to voice mail.”

  Tori’s shoulders sagged. The battery had probably died again. When was the last time she charged it? She couldn’t remember. “Did she say what she wanted?”

  Fran shook her head. “But the second time she asked to speak to Mitch.”

  Terrific. She let out a loud sigh and headed around the desk. Fran stopped her with a lifted finger. The pink acrylic, flecked with metallic sparkles, looked more like weapons than nails, a female version of Edward Scissorhands.

  “You got another call too. Your sister, Allie. About fifteen minutes ago.”

  Probably calling to yell at her for leaving without saying goodbye yesterday. That was a call she could wait before returning. “Thanks, Fran.”

  She went to her cubicle and fished her cell phone out of her purse. Sure enough, the battery was completely dead. She bent over to rummage beneath the desk, where a mass of tangled wires sprouted from the power strip on the floor.

  A familiar, insolent voice sounded from behind. “Looking good this morning, Sanderson.”

  Tori straightened in a hurry and whirled around to find Mitch staring at her backside. His expression managed to look charming and wolfish at the same time. If he wasn’t so nice looking, she’d fire back an appropriately scathing response, but that little boy grin disarmed her every time. She smoothed her skirt with nervous fingers and tried to forget his taunting words in the dream.

  His grin widened. “Or should I say you’re looking good this afternoon?”

  She fought her instinct to stiffen, and instead forced an unconcerned smile as she stooped—facing him, this time—to grasp the phone charger’s cord. “I was up late getting some projects off my plate so I can focus on my new one.” Her mouth snapped shut. She didn’t owe Mitch an explanation. He was a co-worker, not her boss.

  Not yet, anyway.

  She banished that thought and hid any trace of worry from her tone. “I hear you’ve been covering for me this morning.”

  He wandered in and sank into the single guest chair, elbows wide, hands cupped behind his head. “Not really. Kate had some questions about that report you gave her yesterday. I couldn’t answer them. You might want to check your voice mail.” His face took on a carefully nonchalant expression. “So, you haven’t started on your plan for the Maguire account yet?”

  Tori hid a triumphant grin. He was worried. Good. The more effort he spent worrying about what she was coming up with, the less he had to come up with some brilliant plan she couldn’t top. She tugged on the charger cord and stepped over the muscular legs that stretched into the center of her cubicle.

  “Not yet.” She plugged the charger into her cell phone and set it on the edge of her desk, then unzipped her case and slid the laptop out. “But I’ve got a few ideas.”

  Totally untrue, because she’d been too distracted thinking about Daddy and that stupid shoebox still in the trunk of her car while she worked on the other projects. But it couldn’t hurt for Mitch to think she was well on the path of a dazzling campaign. She slid her laptop into the docking station and pressed the power button before giving Mitch a politely inquisitive look. “What about you? Have you started yet?”

  His habitual smirk deepened. “I’ve got a few ideas myself.”

  Worry shot through Tori like a spear. What had he managed to come up with in the twenty-four hours since they’d gotten their assignment? Behind that overly confident exterior, Mitch really was a smart guy. Smarter than her? She snatched up her purse and looked away as she stored it in the desk drawer so he wouldn’t see the worry in her face. It was entirely possible he’d come up with a better campaign than hers.

  But she was not about to let him see even a hint of insecurity in her. If he got a whiff of her worries, he’d find a way to use it to his advantage.

  She picked up her cell phone, tethered by the cord, and schooled her features into a mirror image of his confident smirk. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to check my voice mail now.”

  He rose slowly, then stepped around the desk to stand beside her. She had to tilt her head slightly to look up at him, which set her teeth on edge. He smiled down into her face, obviously enjoying the advantage his height gave him. “Have a good day, Sanderson.”

  He sauntered toward his own cubicle without a backward glance. Tori found her hands had clenched into fists. What was up with him calling her by her last name all of a sudden? He had always called her either Tori, like everyone else, or occasionally Victoria when he wanted to be really unctuous. Calling her Sanderson felt like an acknowledgment of the competition between them. Almost like a challenge being issued.

  She forced herself to relax her grip on the cell phone. If that’s the way he wanted to play it, fine. She would give this project her best shot either way.

  Even though she didn’t have the faintest idea how to begin.

  The symphonic ring of her cell phone jerked Tori away from her computer screen. She glanced at her watch. Almost seven. No wonder her stomach was rumbling. She’d worked nonstop all day, mostly putting out fires for Kate, who was apparently bored with the conference and chose to spend the day tormenting her employees remotely. It was only in the past two hours that the phone had finally quieted down enough to allow Tori to concentrate on her special project. The skeleton of a plan lay before her, frightening in the absence of any real creativity. Just a list of tasks that would need to be performed to produce even the most generic of presentations, but at least it was a start.

  She pressed the button to answer the call without looking at the display. “Tori Sanderson.”

  “Why are you avoi
ding me?”

  Allie. And she sounded supremely irritated.

  “I’m not avoiding you. I’m working.” She propped the phone on her shoulder and clicked Save with the mouse. The near-perfect silence surrounding the office outside of her cubicle was broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioner, a sound she never heard during the day before most of the staff had gone home.

  “You’re still at work? I figured you’d be home by now.”

  Tori toggled the window over to her email and breathed a sigh of relief that there were no new messages from Kate. “Not for a while yet.”

  A disgusted grunt sounded in her ear. “You could take a five-minute break to call your sister back. I left, like, a gazillion messages.”

  Tori leaned back in her chair and arched her back to stretch muscles stiff from several hours of inactivity. She’d deleted all of Allie’s messages and a couple from Joan as well. There had not been a single free moment to return their calls. “I haven’t taken a break to do anything, even eat.”

  A tempting aroma tickled her nose and stirred up an answering rumble in her empty stomach. Pepperoni. Somebody else was still here, and they had pizza. She stood and rose on her tiptoes to look over the top of her cubicle wall, but didn’t spot anyone. Even Mr. Connolly’s office door was closed. He must have left while she was focused on her plan.

  “Then it’s time you did. I’ve been waiting all day to hear about your date with Ryan yesterday.”

  Tori dropped down off her toes and scowled. “It wasn’t a date. We just had coffee. We were only there about thirty minutes.”

  “Yeah, but would you have stayed longer if his nephew hadn’t spilled coffee on you?”

  Mom was a blabbermouth. Well, Tori hadn’t asked her not to tell Allie and Joan, so of course she wouldn’t think anything about it. “Maybe.”

  “So you had a good time? Up until then, I mean.”

  “Yes.”

  Tori smiled. Brief answers would drive her nosy sister nuts. She knew very well that Allie wanted details, and lots of them.

  “So, what was he wearing? What did you two talk about? Are you going to see each other again?”

  Tori picked up a pen and clicked the push button with her thumb as she gave each answer. “Jeans. Nothing much. And yes.”

  Disgust flooded Allie’s tone. “You’re being purposefully obstinate. Wait! Did you say yes, you’re going out with him again?”

  Tori laughed at her sister’s obvious delight. “That’s right. He’s taking me to dinner tomorrow night.” Then she sobered. “But I don’t know, Allie. I accepted in a moment of weakness, and I’m regretting it. He and I really are way too different.”

  “You keep saying that, but I’m not so sure. He’s intelligent, like you. He’s got a good sense of humor, like you. And he’s definitely attractive, don’t you think?”

  An image of Ryan’s warm smile and muscled shoulders rose in her mind. She pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk, kicked her shoes off, and propped her feet on the drawer’s edge. “Oh, yeah. But . . .” She bit her lip. “I don’t want to sound like a snob, but he works in a hardware store.”

  “So you’re only dating lawyers now? Or rich guys?”

  Tori heaved a sigh. “It’s not that, honestly. But I don’t know what kind of relationship I could have with someone who doesn’t speak the same language as me, you know? I mean, he wouldn’t even understand what it’s like to work in an office. How could I talk to him about my job, my goals? And what about his? I mean, I just couldn’t work up a lot of sympathy for someone who’s major stress of the day is not being able to help a customer find the right size plumbing tool, or whatever it is they sell in those places.”

  A chuckle behind her sent steel into Tori’s spine. She jerked upright, her stocking feet hitting the floor, and swiveled around in her seat. Mitch stood in the doorway of her cubicle, a deeper-than-normal smirk on his face and a pizza box in his hand. Heat rushed into her face. How long had he been standing there?

  “I’ve got to go, Allie.” Her voice held all the outrage she could muster as she gave Mitch the evil eye. “I’ve got to deal with an issue.”

  “But, I wan—”

  She disconnected the call without waiting to hear Allie’s protest and shot to her feet, glaring the whole time into Mitch’s grinning face. “Were you eavesdropping on my private conversation?”

  “Hey, I couldn’t help it.” He gestured at the cubicle opening. “No doors, you know.”

  Blood roared in her ears, whether from anger or embarrassment, Tori couldn’t tell. “You could have announced your presence instead of standing there listening.”

  “Sorry.” He didn’t look one bit sorry with that gloating grin plastered on his face. He raised the pizza box in her direction, like a peace offering. “I was just coming over to see if you wanted some.”

  She didn’t allow her face to lose even a touch of her anger, but she didn’t stop him as he sidestepped into the room and circled the perimeter with exaggerated care to keep as much distance between them as possible. He set the box on the edge of her desk and took a backward step, hands held up in a gesture of surrender.

  Tori didn’t take her gaze off of him as she reached down and lifted the lid suspiciously. The spicy smell of pepperoni and tomato sauce increased, and her mouth watered painfully in response. She’d had nothing but coffee and soda all day, and her knees felt suddenly weak. Two pieces of pizza lay temptingly within reach. Okay, maybe he was a jerk, but he was a jerk who came bearing food. She managed a grudging “Thanks” as she lifted one of the slices.

  He grabbed the guest chair and turned it around to straddle as she returned to her chair. He waited until she bit into the pizza before saying, “So, you’ve got a date with a plumber tomorrow night?”

  Great. Just great.

  She chewed with exaggerated care while she fixed him with an icy stare. When she swallowed, she said, “He’s not a plumber. He works in a hardware store.”

  Mitch shrugged. “Same difference. Only a plumber makes more money.”

  The sound of a door opening on the far side of the office interrupted Tori’s sharp retort. Someone else was also working late. Mitch gave her a look full of questions, and she shrugged in response. Then they both stood to look over the tops of the cubicle walls.

  Mr. Connolly stood in the doorway of his office. “I hope you’ll take some time to think about it before you make a rash decision, Phil. You’re a valuable asset to the firm.”

  Phil Osborne’s muttered reply was barely audible. He strode away from Mr. Connolly’s office around the outer edge of the maze of cubicles, in their direction. Tori and Mitch remained silent as he approached, his head lowered and his shoulders slumped. He didn’t look up as he passed. The defeated expression on his kind face made Tori’s heart ache.

  She exchanged a sad glance with Mitch as they both sank back into their chairs.

  “I feel so sorry for him,” she whispered. “It’s not fair. He’s been here longer. He’s earned the position.”

  Mitch shook his head. “This is business. It doesn’t have to be fair. Kate is a hundred times more aggressive than Osborne. She’ll take this firm to the next level. The partners know that.”

  Tori nodded. Mitch was right. Mr. Connolly and Mr. Farrin had to choose the person they thought would be the best for the firm in the long run. It was their company, after all.

  Mitch got to his feet. “I’ve had it for today. I’m heading out.” He started for the door but surprised Tori by stepping around the desk and standing next to her chair. He placed a hand on the surface and leaned down, his face inches from hers. She caught a faint whisk of his musky aftershave. “One more thing.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he held her gaze with his. “You and I speak the same language, Tori.”

  He was gone before she could gather her whirling thoughts enough to reply.

  His footsteps faded away until the only sound she could hear was the pounding of her heart. There had
been no hint of his trademark grin as Mitch uttered those astounding words. In fact, his eyes had held a note of sincerity she’d never seen in her handsome co-worker. And her pulse was stuttering like a lovesick teenager’s in response.

  With a slow motion, she set the pizza back in the box. She didn’t think she could eat another bite.

  8

  The wipers scraped away the drizzle on Ryan’s windshield as he drove down Fourth Street. The sky was a solid, gloomy gray, but the TV weatherman promised the cloud cover would break up by evening. Hopefully by the time he got out of class and headed to Lexington for his date with Tori.

  Up ahead he spotted his destination, a florist shop in an old converted brick house. A white picket fence enclosed the tiny front yard, and striped green-and-white awnings covered the windows. He didn’t work until ten on Tuesdays, so he still had twenty minutes. Plenty of time to pick up some flowers. He pulled into the driveway and parked in a small lot in the back.

  A strand of jingling bells on the back of the door announced his presence. He paused to look around. A clash of colors and smells threatened to overload his senses. Baskets hung from the ceiling, and vines draped over shelves lined with vases. Against the wall to his right, three—no, four huge arrangements on easels were lined in a row, one with a white ribbon proclaiming In Sympathy in gold letters. Several other brightly colored bouquets rested on the floor beneath the spindly pole legs. Looks like they were getting ready to make a big delivery for a funeral or something. Against the back wall stood a wide, refrigerated storage case with a dozen smaller bouquets on shelves inside, the glass doors fogged as though someone had just opened them. The sweet scent of flowers permeated the room.

  A woman came through a doorway beside the case, wiping her hands on a green apron. “Hello. Are you here to pick up an order?”

  “Uh, no.” Ryan shoved his hands in his pockets. “I wanted to get some flowers for tonight.”

  A smile appeared on her broad face. “Big date?”