by Calista Fox
In the meantime, she left the elevator at the ground floor, crossed the vast lobby and hit the sidewalk. She immediately spotted Chip’s shiny red sports car. Carefully navigating the lightly snow-covered concrete, she made her way to the flashy Aston Martin Zagato and climbed inside.
“You sure this car can handle inclement weather?” she asked as she shook flakes from her scarf.
“These tires stick to the road no matter how slick.” He eased into first and fell into place with the rest of the crawling traffic.
L.L. practically bounced in her seat. “So, you’ve seen the building. How awesome is it?”
“You’re going to be very happy, I assure you. There’s even a view of Hudson River from the second-floor loft, which will make for excellent office space, by the way.”
She felt the tinge of regret over leaving Kensington & Marks. It was nice to work in such close proximity to other designers and, of course, Jace.
Plus, she liked that Tague’s office was just down the street. In her new location, they wouldn’t be able to squeeze in spontaneous coffee hookups. Or a quick rendezvous here and there.
Attempting not to think of him, she told Chip, “Max and Len will meet us at the address you gave. They’re really excited.”
“I am, too. I’ve kept my ear to the ground this past year, hoping like hell to come across something that would work for you.”
“I know. And I greatly appreciate it—all the time you’ve invested. Meg and Jace put out feelers, too, though mostly, they just wanted to lend me the money to find something perfect regardless of cost.”
“You’ll breathe easier knowing you’ve got sufficient capital in the bank, without having to pay rent and a loan.”
“Agreed,” she said with relief in her tone. “Although, trying to explain that to Meg when what she truly wants is to donate a building to the cause, has been no easy feat.”
Chip laughed. “She just wants you to be successful—and happy.”
“And I’m putting every effort into achieving both.”
He was quiet as he wove through traffic to avoid double-parked cars and delivery trucks. Then said, “I noticed a little extra pep in your step earlier. Is that because of this new location we’re scoping out, or…?”
18
She shot him a curious look behind her aviators. “Tague?”
Chip grinned. “I’m glad the two of you sparked.”
“Same goes for you and Helena.”
“I’m taking her to the firm dinner tomorrow night. We’re not mentioning the foot fetish.”
“Duly noted.”
A little tickle at the back of her brain suddenly had L.L. wondering how she and Tague were going to avoid mentioning her profession…
How shocked and appalled would his high-society mother be when she learned L.L. designed sex toys?
She sighed. The answer was a no-brainer.
Way. Shocked.
Fuck.
L.L. tried not to dwell on the potentially precarious situation. She chatted some more with Chip before he pulled into a small parking lot and eased the Zagato into a space marked Reserved in front of a two-story, light-grey brick building with tons of windows.
They exited the car and found Max and Len anxiously awaiting them. Max was a tall, lanky blond. Len was a shorter, stocky redhead. Both in their early thirties and hopelessly devoted to each other.
She exchanged double-cheek kisses with them and they shook with Chip. Then he produced the keys and opened the service door for everyone to pass through.
L.L. took in the open, airy facility with a smile on her face.
Chip hit the highlights. “Sizable loft upstairs, as I told you earlier. Plenty of natural light. Two docking bays for shipments. Excellent square footage for operations.”
Max whipped out a tape measure and started verbally ticking off numbers to Len, who consulted a notebook they’d brought along. He nodded in approval as Max calculated and plotted. L.L. didn’t get in their way. This was their area of expertise. They knew precisely the manufacturing, packaging and distribution equipment and resources needed, and how much space it would all take up.
So she inspected the loft while they continued. Chip had been spot-on with the great view of the river and all-in-all, L.L. felt an instant, palpable connection to the building and its locale. She could envision slate-grey floors, gleaming white molding, window-trim and wainscoting to complement the brick walls, and pristine glass-topped desks and end tables with brushed-steel legs. Plush, rich eggplant-colored furniture with silvery accents and thick area rugs in white…or perhaps light-grey with lavender scrolls.
It was a powerful sign that she could immediately visualize the décor, the functionality of the space, the daily bliss she’d experience coming through those doors downstairs when the business was up and running.
L.L. was all about positive energy—and it currently coursed through her, making her vibrate with excitement.
“So,” Chip joined her in the loft. “I know it’s a lot to take in, a lot to work with, but…what do you think?”
“I love it!” she blurted. “Really and truly love it. When can we have the keys?”
He chuckled. “Since I’ve already negotiated the terms for you, I can get started on the leasing documents as soon as I get back to the office.”
She threw her arms around him. “Chip, this is fabulous! I honestly can’t thank you enough!”
“Hey, it’s what I do,” he caustically said with another guffaw.
“No, it’s not.” She pulled away. “You’re a divorce lawyer. Yet you’ve gone well out of your way to help a friend with her corporate matters.”
“Well, I did spend an exorbitant amount of time listening to Tague and learning about his specialty when we roomed together at Harvard, so it comes naturally. And, I’ll admit, this has been a nice respite from broken marriages and distraught clients.”
“I am definitely not distraught. I’m ecstatic!”
Max and Len came upstairs and Max said, “This is absolutely perfect, Chip. I don’t know how you found this place, but it’s exactly what we need—and more.”
“And we can afford it,” L.L. gleefully chimed in.
“Icing on the cake,” Len said. “Mm, cake. We didn’t have time for dessert after lunch. How about we splurge and celebrate at The Plaza with something decadent? And of course champagne for L.L.”
Chip said, “I’m game.”
“Perfect,” she beamed.
Max slung an arm around her shoulders. “We are going to be so fucking rich.”
She laughed. “I thought we were in this for the creative aspect—and our customers.”
“Who will enjoy many, many orgasms while we become so fucking rich,” he contended.
L.L. shook her head, grinning. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly complain about that.”
They locked up and then reconvened at The Plaza Hotel to overindulge. Afterward, L.L. bypassed returning to her office and instead took the subway home. She kept all of her work in a cloud environment, so she fired up her laptop, settled in front of a fire in the living room and wrapped up the design of one toy and started building specs for another.
Friday morning and into the afternoon flew by for L.L. Shocking. She’d anticipated it crawling at a painful pace while she looked forward to seeing Tague again. It mattered not that the dinner was already hailed as a pressure cooker. She had no delusions about what an evening of intense lawyers—and Tague’s parents—would be like.
What she latched onto was something he’d told her Wednesday morning on their way to her office—that they weren’t to give a fuck.
She knew him well enough, she surmised, to know he’d hold true to his word. Whatever complications, disapproval and tension would come from his family, L.L. swore to herself she wouldn’t let it get to her, wouldn’t let it affect the way she felt about Tague.
Parents were tricky entities with which to deal, regardless of circumstances. She’d learned tha
t early on. They could love you or hate you, and more often than not, it would have nothing to do with you personally.
Her own father was a great example. As much as L.L. had “missed” out on having a dad—really just pining for that paternal presence that had not existed when she’d been growing up—she had to admit and accept that the man who’d helped to conceive her had walked out of her life before she’d even been born. Before they’d met. Before he’d gotten to know her.
He’d left when she was merely a concept of a child—not one he’d seen in reality. That helped to alleviate some of the rejection. Though it hadn’t been easy finding that measure of peace.
Her mother, however, had always contended that being abandoned was no fault of L.L.’s. How could it be? her mother would muse in her good-natured tone, a resilient woman who let nothing keep her down for long. Not even single parenthood and a broken heart.
Charlene Branson had said, on many occasions, “People make choices based on their current situations, their current state of mind. Sometimes, they can’t see past today to understand what tomorrow—and twenty years from now—might look like. And if what’s happening right this very second doesn’t feel convenient or comfortable for them, they can walk away and say they did what was necessary for them. That’s okay, sweets.” She’d pat L.L.’s hand at this point. “They can feel as though they’ve freed themselves from something. But deep down, I suspect that sometimes they look back and wonder what they left behind.”
Her mother was definitely of the forgive and move on variety.
There were lots of days when L.L. wished she’d inherited that trait. It would have helped her to cut loose of Corey and not ever, ever think about what he’d done to her six years ago.
Even now, just thinking of him, made fury rise within her. She forced herself to tamp it down.
And considered that if anyone could help her move past the misery, it just might be Tague.
Or he could devastate her further.
The pendulum had the potential to swing either way.
Unfortunately.
A text from him drew her from her internal ruminations and turmoil. Merely seeing his name on the screen soothed her.
On my way.
A simple missive, but it was nice to know he was sitting in a car with her on his mind as he approached.
L.L. typed, Sadly, I’ve been ready for half an hour. Guess I got a little excited…
Over seeing me? he replied.
Her sassy side kicked in. No. I’m actually dying to be in a roomful of attorneys heatedly debating which hue of blue best describes the Empire Room.
Smartass.
She smiled, despite him not being able to see it. How far away are you?
About ten minutes.
Her stomach flipped. I need to touch-up my lip gloss.
See you soon.
19
She dropped the phone in her small, satin silver clutch. L.L. wore a glittery silver gown that featured a V’d dip in the bodice, between the valley of her breasts, exposing the inner swells. A slit between her legs rose to mid-thigh. Her back was bare, the low sweep of the material resting along her tailbone.
Ducking into her bathroom, she applied another coat of gloss. Ensured the smoky-accented makeup around her green eyes hadn’t smudged. Her hair was loosely secured at the nape of her neck in a series of intricate, artistic knots. Softly curled strands were left around her temples and shoulders. The only jewelry she wore were slim, elongated silver hoops. Not only was there no point of detracting from the dress, L.L. didn’t own expensive accessories. She had a few indulgences, some born of necessity, like having the appropriate gown on-hand for a swank event. But she was pretty good at saving her pennies for her business.
Returning to the kitchen, she checked her overnight tote one more time to make certain she hadn’t forgotten anything. Exhilaration ribboned through her at the thought of spending the evening with Tague. The entire evening.
There were some jitters, sure. Yet even if she was a little anxious over being with a man for the first time in six years, her snapping and sizzling nerve endings overpowered the fear.
So she was a bit calmer than she’d anticipated this evening. Really, the only reservations she currently had were meeting his parents.
And the discovery of her occupation.
Was she really just supposed to make the grand declaration if Tague’s mother inquired?
Tague had given L.L. ample reason to dread the introductions, and this was one more layer of tension. But he also seemed wholly grounded in convictions of being his own man, and not wrapped up in any sort of family drama.
One more thing she liked about him. Tague had strength of body, mind and spirit, giving her a boost of confidence over the impending situation.
He was also quite punctual. He knocked on her door at six-thirty, as promised.
L.L. crossed to the front door right in the middle of the split kitchen-dining room combo, there not even being a foyer to speak of in her small apartment.
Stealing herself for the vision of Tague in a tux, she released the three locks and heavy security chain, then yanked open the door.
Only to lose her breath, to hell with preparing for how mind-boggingly gorgeous the man would be all decked out in formal attire.
“Wow.” Her eyes popped. Her nipples puckered.
Tague was by far the sexiest damn thing she’d ever seen. Pierce Brosnan had nothing on this man. He was silently, yet wildly charismatic with his magnetic presence and hypnotic smile. His glowing midnight eyes. His lush, onyx locks.
He wore his tux with a black shirt and black silk tie. His overcoat was dark as night as well, and accented with a white cashmere scarf. Likely Hermes.
He handed her a single red rose while she tried to remember her own name. And while her insides ignited from the way he slowly took her in from head to toe.
“Loralai,” he simply said in a heated tone.
Their gazes locked. His jaw clenched. Sparks ignited between her legs.
“Jesus, Tague,” she said, thoroughly captivated. “The way you look at me—”
“You’re a showstopper, baby. This dress is… Fuck.” He dragged a hand along his face. “You are so unbelievably beautiful.”
Emotion welled in her throat.
“Each time I see you, I can’t imagine you looking any more sensational. And then you do.”
“So…okay for the evening?”
“Beyond okay.”
Her nerves settled a little. “Thank you.”
“No.” He shook his head. Gave her an earnest look. “Thank you.”
She knew her smile was a grateful one.
Tague asked, “Shall we start with the business aspect of the evening?” He reached into the inner pocket of his tux jacket, unfolded a sheet of paper and handed it over. “I highlighted the pertinent parts.”
L.L. stared at the yellow tint over his test results. All good, as Meg had schooled her to determine when she and L.L. had split as a couple—insisting L.L. ask for this kind of proof from a new partner whether she ended up dating a man or another woman, and regardless of condom usage.
“Why don’t we go into the living room,” L.L. said. He followed her into the sitting area with sofas and a fireplace, a flat screen TV mounted over it. L.L. retrieved a copy of her own paperwork from a credenza drawer and gave it to Tague. “You should also know that I went on the pill after Meg and I broke up, so birth control is covered.”
Tague set both documents on the round table in the center of the room, which boasted a tall, robust floral arrangement. “I’ve never considered this approach before,” he confessed. “Even if a woman told me she was on the pill, I’d still use protection.”
L.L. nodded. “I’d planned to insist on it if I ever reached this point with someone. But…” She let out a long breath. “You made it very clear what you want. And, quite honestly, I want the same. Since we agreed to mutual exclusivity, I feel very comfortable wit
h the decision.”
“You are the only woman holding my full, undivided attention,” he assured her. With a grin, he added, “Sort of feel as though I’ve won the lottery.”
“As if you need to win the lottery. Still…” She trailed a freshly manicured finger along the lapel of his jacket. “You’re really very sweet. And ridiculously handsome.”
He chuckled. “I don’t know about that. But I will say I was, surprisingly, eager for the workday to end so we could get onto this dinner. On Monday morning when Chip reminded me of the festivities, I’d considered the event a tedious obligation. Tonight…I’m feeling damn honored to show you off.”
“That’s saying something, coming from a man like you.”
“I mean every word.” His head dipped and his lips lightly grazed her cheek. “I don’t want to mess up your new coat of lip gloss.”
“Nice of you,” she said in a breathy tone. “Though I’m willing to reapply.”
His grin widened, lighting his mesmerizing eyes. “We’d never make it to the party.”
She sighed. “You’re probably right.”
Tague took a small step back and reached into the tux pocket again. “I have an actual gift for you, not just the medical stuff.” He produced a long, slim box in black velvet with Cartier scrolled elegantly in the center.
“Tague. You didn’t have to buy me anything. Really.”
“I know that. I wanted to.” He cracked open the lid.
“Oh, my God.” Her eyes bulged once more. “Holy Christ, Tague. That is gorgeous!” The diamond bracelet was stretched in a straight line, each end secured in the velvet.
“Personally, I believe you should be dripping diamonds.”
20
She gave a sharp shake of her head. “It’s too much, Tague. I can’t accept this.”
“But I want you to have it.” He set the box on the table, unhooked the ends and carefully lifted the piece of jewelry from its nesting place. He wrapped the bracelet around her wrist, secured it, then raised her wrist to his mouth and tenderly kissed the inside.