by Kim Desalvo
“The thing is, Connor is still a bit of a hold-out,” he said, working the lie, “You know how the old-timers get sometimes; they think they know everything and that a young partner can be a liability. Of course, he was two years younger than me when he started the firm, but he doesn’t seem to remember that.” He paused and took another breath. “He gave me a project, and apparently, my success with it could make or break my chances with him. It’s a big job…”
“You’re up to a big job,” she said confidently. “You’ve never backed down from hard work, and you’ll show the old coot that energy and drive are a match for experience any day! Christ, the guy doesn’t even have an email address—how can he even expect to compete in today’s markets without technology?”
Ryan smiled, feeling guilty that she had so much confidence in him while he was lying to her face. “I appreciate your confidence, Lex, I really do,” he said, taking her hand, “but this project is going to keep me incredibly busy for the next several months. Probably six to eight.” He paused again.
“OK,” she said, confused. “It still sounds like good news to me.”
“Oh, Lex,” he whispered. He swallowed around the growing lump in his throat and forced himself to continue. “Shit, I don’t know how to even to say this to you. Believe me, I’ve worked it out every way I can think of and it keeps coming down to the same thing.”
“What thing, Ryan?” she asked, anxiously.
“Fuck Lex. We have to postpone the wedding. I can’t see any other way. I’m going to be working late nights, weekends, holidays, traveling…I can’t help you plan a wedding right now, and I sure as hell can’t take time off for a honeymoon…until I know how this thing is all going to play out, I can’t focus on anything else. I’m going to be stressed out, I’ll have constant meetings—I just don’t see how I can do both. I’m so sorry Lex,” he whimpered, “but I really don’t see another option.”
For a minute, she just stared at him. He could see confusion, disbelief, and disappointment fighting for room on her face. She shook her head, her features crumpled, and her shoulders hitched. “I’m sure I didn’t hear that right,” she said; completely stunned. Her pained look almost made him want to pull the words back; forget he’d ever considered it; but he thought of the alternative, and forced a concerned look onto his face.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He reached out to take her hand, but she pulled it out of his grasp.
“For how long?” she asked.
“Maybe November?” he said.
She broke then, and anger took control of all the other emotions. “November?” she yelled. “Fucking November? Are you kidding me?” She jumped off the couch, backing away from him and shaking her head.
“Lexi, I…”
“I have a strapless wedding dress, Ryan—I can’t wear that in the winter! And nobody has fireworks in November—it could be fucking snowing!” He opened his mouth to speak; to try and calm her down; but her fury was as hot as a volcano, and he closed it again. “Do you even have a clue about how much money we stand to lose? We’ve put down deposits on the reception hall, the photographer, the florist, caterers, the limo…and there’s no guarantee we could even rebook half of them for four months later—I booked that stuff almost a year ago!”
“Maybe we could do it in Spring, then,” he suggested meekly. “When the weather gets warmer…”
“Fuck you, Ryan!” she bellowed. “This is bullshit! I’ve planning this for almost a year, and you’re basically telling me to start over, and plan it for another year? What kind of shit is that?”
“It’s work, Lexi!” he yelled back. “This isn’t a choice of convenience—I’m doing this for our future! Once I make partner I’ll make more money and we can have a better life! I’m doing it for us!”
“You know,” she said, seething, “by then Tia will be living in Colorado—how is she supposed to be here for me when…”
“Give me a fucking break,” he said, “as if she won’t be able to afford to fly out here to help you with fittings…”
“That a bunch of shit, Ryan, and you know it! There’s a hell of a lot more to being someone’s matron of honor than showing up for a few fittings. Besides, Inhap’s planning a South American tour in the Spring—Dylan might not even be able to be there!”
“Fuck Dylan Miller!” he spat, unable to control his emotions. And before he could reign them in, more words came tumbling from his lips. “Wait, forget I said that,” he bellowed. “Because you might actually want to!” He regretted the words as soon as he said them, but the damage had already been done. He felt the sharp crack of Lexi’s hand as it connected with his cheek, but the pain and disappointment in her eyes hurt even more. Damn it, this really wasn’t her fault, but in the heat of the moment, he needed somewhere to place the blame to alleviate his own guilt.
“What a stupid, chauvinistic, male thing to say!” she cried. “Maybe as a guy you can’t turn off your fucking hormones or think with the right head, but I certainly can! I can’t believe you would even think that about me, much less say it!”
“I’m sorry,” Ryan said quickly, trying to wrap his arm around her. “It was a shitty thing to say. I’m really sorry, Lex.” But she wasn’t having any of it. She pushed him away, and continued her tirade.
“First of all, I would never, EVER, do that to my best friend! Secondly, Dylan isn’t a mystery anymore—a good looking face or an image in my mind—I’ve gotten to know him as a person, and I consider him a friend. I respect his value system, and I would never do anything to jeopardize that relationship. And I would never, ever, fuck one of my friends.” She stared at him hard.
“You’re right, I know you wouldn’t,” he said apologetically. “It was a really stupid thing to say.” He reached out for her again, but she quickly stepped away, putting the table between them.
“Damn right!” she exclaimed, “but you did say it, so now I guess I finally know how you really feel.”
“I don’t…”
“Bullshit!” she yelled. “You wouldn’t have said it if you weren’t thinking it! Thanks for giving me a little credit, asshole!”
“I’m just not running my life on his calendar, is all I’m saying. It’s our fucking life, and our fucking wedding, and I’m so sorry if it’s going to mess up your plan to have our wedding be a media circus…”
“How dare you?” she bellowed. “He’s my friend, and he’ll be my matron of honor’s husband, and I want him there, simple as that. I’m not trying to make our wedding into a media circus!”
“Then why is your phone still ringing constantly with people who want to talk about it? You love it, Lexi, and if I don’t make partner, I’ll never have even a ghost of a chance of giving you the kind of life you want; the kind Tia’s getting.”
“Oh, so that’s it,” she said deliberately. “You’re comparing yourself with Dylan, and you don’t think you could ever measure up, is that it?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, damn it!” although her words hit a little too close to home, “it’s just that I want the best for us, and making partner will give us a better life!”
“You really are clueless, aren’t you, Ryan? Do you think I’m with you because of what you can give me? You had nothing when I met you—when I fell in love with you. You were a poor struggling student! And Tia’s life isn’t going to perfect, you know. She’s going to have to deal with Dylan being gone for months at a time on tour, with women constantly throwing themselves at her husband…and by the way, she has enough trust in him and his feelings for her to deal with it, unlike your apparent distrust of mine…”
“I didn’t say I didn’t trust you,” he said, “I just said that I’m not entirely sure you’ve given up on your fantasy to sleep with Dylan Miller, especially since he’s suddenly accessible!”
“I am through with this conversation, you fucking idiot. Maybe you should ask yourself if you’re postponing the wedding because you don’t really want to marry me.”
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“Ah shit, Lexi, I didn’t say that!”
“You apparently don’t know what you really want to say,” she said, seething. “When you figure it out, let me know.” She grabbed her purse and keys off the table and stormed out of the apartment, leaving the Chinese food congealing on the counter and the invitation samples sprawled atop the coffee table.
Lexi was more pissed than hurt by the time she got home. Her first instinct was to call her best friend, to bitch to her about what an asshole Ryan was being and get some sympathy, but she was afraid that she’d let the wrong thing slip and inadvertently spill that Ryan was harboring animosity toward Dylan. One of the things that pissed her off the most was that she could see Ryan’s point—at least in some respects. She’d seen the effect Dylan had on people whenever he was in a room; besides the fact that he was a huge celebrity, he was a warm and genuine person, and had a knack of making people feel comfortable as well as mesmerized in his company. It would be hard for Ryan, or any guy for that matter, not to feel at least a little less significant in his shadow. But it certainly wasn’t Dylan’s fault, and she sure as hell didn’t deserve to be punished for it.
The wedding thing was a valid point as well, damn it; there would be a lot of interest in her and Ryan’s wedding that had nothing to do with the bride or groom; especially if it fell in such close proximity to Dylan and Tia’s own nuptials. She’d had to deal with people like Candy trying to score invitations to her wedding and asking if they could sit at Dylan’s table, and because of her television and tabloid interviews, she’d also been approached by strangers on the street wanting to know inside scoops about the celebrity couple. But she knew absolutely that their choice of a wedding date was not meant to intrude on her own celebration—if they didn’t take advantage of that time window they’d have to wait nearly another year to get married themselves.
She was pulled from her thoughts by the chirp of her phone. She saw Ryan’s number on the display, and groaned. For a second, she contemplated picking it up, but then his comment about her still wanting to fuck Dylan brought the anger bubbling up again. Instead, she poured herself a glass of chardonnay, and ran a steaming hot bath with lots of smelly bubbles. When Ryan called again, she took one look at the display and tossed the phone back on the table and sank into the tub, hoping the combination of hot water and alcohol would loosen her tense muscles.
Chapter 28
Lexi wasn’t picking up her phone. Ryan was leaving messages and sending texts, but he was getting no response from either. He was tied up in knots, and he wasn’t at all sure what he was feeling. Part of him was actually surprised that she hadn’t been a little more understanding—he’d sort of convinced himself that she’d see the merit of putting off the ceremony in order to secure a better future for themselves. He’d known she’d be pissed in the beginning, but he thought that once she’d had time to think about it, she’d see that it was in everyone’s best interest. Damn it, he never should have opened up his mouth about Miller, though—he knew that was a stupid mistake—but shouldn’t she have seen his jealousy as a compliment instead of a lack of trust? He knew now that she’d never really cheated on him and he certainly knew that she would never be anything but loyal to her best friend. But in the back of his mind, if the situations were reversed and he had the chance to cheat without consequences for one night, would he do the right thing? And because he had the shadow of a doubt about himself, he couldn’t help having a shadow about her, as well.
Over the next few days, he kept calling and texting, and even sent her flowers. He went to her apartment twice, but her car was not in the lot. She was doing a great job of avoiding him, and the more she did, the more pissed off he got.
At least the inquiries about Dylan slowed down. The buzz about their engagement was dying off a bit—another celebrity going into rehab after a drunken brawl had taken over the headlines—and his secretary had finally figured out how to handle the calls that weren’t business related. He was still amazed that some of these people had the balls to call him up and ask him to hook them up with Miller. They obviously knew that they couldn’t get Dylan directly, what with him being such a big star and all, but why the hell did everyone think that he and Miller were best buds?
He was so pissed off by Tuesday that he went straight to the gym to burn off some negative energy. He was twelve minutes into a vigorous run on a treadmill when Tiffany hopped onto the machine beside him. “You look like a man on a mission,” she smiled. “I think I see smoke coming off your feet.”
Ryan grunted. “Just making it count,” he said between gasping breaths. He looked over and saw her leaning on the treadmill next to him in a tight workout outfit of bright purple and lime green swirls that showed off her smoking hot body perfectly. Her hair was twisted into a messy ponytail, and she was smiling at him out of the side of her mouth. He couldn’t help it—he slowed his pace and smiled back.
“Want to tell me about it?” she asked sincerely.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“It’s obvious you’re trying to run away from something,” she observed, “but in case you didn’t notice, you don’t really get anywhere on a treadmill.” She smiled bigger, her head tilted just slightly, and he could see the sincerity in her look.
“Nah, it’s nothing,” he said, smiling back and feeling his spirits slightly lifted. “Just wondering when you were going to get here—I was getting a head start.”
“Afraid you can’t keep up with me, huh?” she asked, more than a hint of suggestion in her voice.
“Oh, I can keep up with you just fine,” he flirted back. It was harmless, right? And despite the seeming gallon of sweat soaking his shirt and the fact that his calf muscles felt as if they’d turned to lead, he felt lighter than he had in a while. “I like to stay a couple steps ahead, if you want to know the truth.”
She set up her treadmill and joined him for the rest of his workout, pushing her pace past his. He laughed, and it felt good. Tiffany was completely neutral territory for him—she didn’t know anything about his connection to Dylan Miller or the fact that his life was turning to shit, and he planned to keep it that way. It was a relief to have someone see him; instead of seeing him as a way to get to Miller. Although, he thought, neutral territory was a bit of an overstatement. She was beautiful, sexy, and obviously flirting with him, and he was enjoying the only positive attention he’d gotten in quite some time. Dangerous territory might be a more accurate statement, but she made him feel good, damn it; and he deserved it.
“So you think you can stay a couple steps ahead of me, do you?” she challenged, cranking up the speed and incline on her treadmill. “We’ll just see about that.”
Ryan set his own machine up to her breakneck pace and happily accepted the challenge.
From the treadmill they went into the weight room, and he set about impressing her. He peeled off his shirt and pushed his muscles to the limit, watching her watch him from the corner of his eye. She was easy to look at as well, her well-toned body pulsing and flexing beneath the spandex that hugged her impressive curves in the most tantalizing ways.
“You take care of yourself, Stallworth,” she said, smirking. “I like that in a man.”
“I could say the same about you, Miss Truitt,” he replied, adding, “it is Miss Truitt, right?”
“Yes, it is,” she said, her eyes blazing into his.
They held each other’s gaze for a heartbeat too long, until Tiffany suggested they hit the pool for some laps. “Do you ever quit?” he smiled, exhausted, but finding himself more than a little curious about seeing her in a swimsuit.
“What’s the matter,” she teased. “Afraid you can’t keep up?” And with that, she bolted toward the locker room, tossing back over her head, “I’ll see you in the pool…or not. We’ll see if you can handle me.”
Ryan smiled at her retreating figure and headed toward the men’s locker room to change into his suit. At this point, he wasn’t at all sure he could
keep up with her, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.
His breath hissed between his teeth when she stepped out of the locker room. Her suit was a one-piece, but it rode alluringly high on her hips and dangerously low over her breasts, allowing him a generous view of her creamy cleavage. She tossed him a flirty look, and dove neatly into the water.
He really shouldn’t be here right now, and he knew it, but the simple fact that she was appreciating him for a reason other than his connection to Dylan Miller was keeping him here. But if he wanted to be honest with himself, that wasn’t entirely true. She was a beautiful, successful woman, and she was blatantly flirting with him. That she worked for Truitt Industries, a client for whom his own company was attempting to secure more business, namely in the international market, was also a bonus. Although Wes had virtually guaranteed his partnership, it wouldn’t hurt if he could help to increase the firm’s bottom line by securing an ‘in’ within Truitt; plus he could almost justify spending time with Tiffany as part of his “big project.” And if he got to do some careless flirting along the way, what was the harm in that? He didn’t have to stand in anybody’s long dark shadow with Tiffany, and he was more than all right with that part of the situation.
She swam like she did everything else—effortlessly, and with incredible grace. She cut through the water like a knife, barely disturbing the surface, gliding like a mermaid across the length of the pool. Here, no matter how he tried, he couldn’t match her pace, and when he reached the deep end, breathless and nearly exhausted, she floated, her head bobbing slightly in the water, smiling warmly at him.
“OK, you got me there,” he said. “I’m man enough to admit defeat when I’ve been bested.”
“Four years on the high school swim team,” she boasted. “State champs.”
“Football,” he said, pointing at himself. “Not exactly the same kind of conditioning.”