by Alexia Adams
“Damn, isn’t it appropriate?” Olivia craned her neck, clearly checking out what the other women were wearing. A few were in shorter cocktail dresses but a number of women were also wearing full-length gowns. Jonathan scanned the crowd as well, but more to get the general reaction to Olivia’s arrival.
“It’s appropriate … it’s just … wow.” He was at a loss for words. Olivia looked stunning and clearly outshone every other woman in the room. The dress showed off her hour-glass figure, pushing up her luscious breasts, tempting his restraint. She was exquisite. And she was with him.
“You can blame your sister. She insisted I buy it and wear it tonight.” She smiled up at him as he put a possessive arm around her waist and led her toward a couple standing by the window.
“I shall have to think of a suitable thank you for her, then,” he replied. Like maybe paying for her entire wedding and honeymoon. “Olivia, may I introduce you to Tom and Jennifer Bannister? Tom is head of the European equities division and Jennifer is a corporate lawyer. Tom, Jennifer, this is my girlfriend, Olivia Chapman.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Olivia shook hands with the couple. He could feel the tension in her. He gave her a gentle squeeze of encouragement and pulled her closer. Together they circled the room for half an hour. He introduced her to colleagues and acquaintances, never moving his hand from her. Nothing and no one was going to get between him and Olivia tonight. He desperately wanted to add more romance to their relationship, move things along before he exploded from frustrated desire.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the gallery is now available for you to view the exhibition,” a voice announced.
Slowly the crowd made their way to the gallery. He and Olivia wandered leisurely along, looking at each work of art.
“Do you like this?” Olivia whispered to him as they stood before what seemed to be the tenth painting that looked just like the previous nine.
“Not really,” he whispered back. “I have no idea what the artist is trying to say, or portray, or whatever it is one is supposed to get out of art. Let’s skip the next few and move on down the hall. It looks like those pictures have people in them. At least they look like people from here.” He inhaled deeply of her perfume, letting the intoxicating scent fill his mind before he steered her toward the next gallery.
Olivia smiled and then winked at him as they passed several couples enthusiastically discussing the “texture of the light” and the “juxtaposition of good and evil.” It was as though they were sharing a private joke. His heart lightened.
His job came with a lot of pressure and stress. He’d gotten so used to it over the years, he barely noticed its effect. It was only when he was with Olivia that he realized how tense and stuck-up he tended to be. With a single laugh she took the weight from his shoulders and reminded him what was important in life. Love and happiness. If only it would last.
“This one just looks like a bunch of squiggly lines to me,” she confessed. “In fact, Hannah drew something like that one the other day,” she said, pointing to a picture across the hall.
He laughed loudly and several people turned to look at them. He nodded at a few and then hurried her along to the next room, wishing they could just disappear into the night. The artwork in this section was less abstract and there were indeed a few people on the canvases—people with three heads or seven arms, but at least somewhat identifiable forms.
“Let’s go back to the East Room. There should be canapés and champagne.” He steered her away from the artwork and back the way they had come. Once they’d spent a respectable time at the event, they could find somewhere more private to continue their date. He ran through a list of romantic venues where he could take her.
If he played his cards right, he wouldn’t have to wait till his sister’s wedding. Tonight might be the night.
• • •
“I’ll get us a drink,” Jonathan said as they returned to the refreshment room. As he strode away, Olivia admired his fine arse.
“Did you enjoy the exhibit, Olivia?”
She whirled around to find Jennifer Bannister standing behind her with a compassionate look on her face. As a lawyer, she’d probably be able to spot a lie from across the room, so Olivia decided to go with the truth. “I don’t really understand modern art,” she confessed. “I like the stuff by the Impressionists or the pre-Raphaelites.” She was so glad she had swotted up a bit about art last night before going to bed. Thank God for the Internet. “I guess I don’t have enough imagination to appreciate modern art.”
“Well said,” Jennifer smiled at her. “It’s not really my cup of tea, either.”
Olivia relaxed for the first time that evening. When she’d attended these events as a model, people had only expected her to stand there and look good. Attending as Jonathan’s girlfriend, she wanted to be able to converse intelligently. Then maybe Jonathan would realize that aside from looking after his daughter, she had a real place in his life. And that there was more to her than her modeling career.
She caught sight of Jonathan returning, a glass of champagne in each hand. Her breath stuck in her throat and Jennifer’s voice seemed to come from a long way away. His dark tux made him look taller and more powerful than usual. Even though all the other men were similarly attired, he stood out.
She’d gotten used to his short haircut, but she missed the curls and his laid-back attitude. He was so intense these days. She longed to ease the tension she often saw on his face. But his sparkling blue eyes were the same, and now they rested warmly on her.
He handed her a glass and put his arm back around her waist. “Olivia has been giving me her opinion of the exhibition,” Jennifer commented.
“And what was that?”
“Very diplomatic,” she replied with a laugh. “Quick, I see Miriam Walker heading this way. She loves modern art and will undoubtedly wax lyrical for hours on the deeper meaning of the purple splodge versus the pink one. It’s too late for me. Save yourselves,” Jennifer whispered urgently before turning toward the advancing Miriam.
“You are a brave woman,” Jonathan whispered back and steered Olivia toward the window. Within a few minutes several other couples joined them. She smiled pleasantly but allowed Jonathan to do most of the talking, not feeling she had anything useful to add. But at least they didn’t discuss banking. And belying her preconception that it was a cutthroat business full of sharks, everyone seemed very pleasant.
“Please excuse me, I’ll be back in a moment,” she pardoned herself after half an hour. She put her empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and headed for the ladies’ room. She could feel Jonathan’s eyes on her back and put a bit more sway in her hips as she walked.
She was in a cubicle when the click of heels on the marble floor heralded the arrival of two women. As they stayed by the mirror, Olivia assumed they were just there to touch up their makeup. Her heart sank when she overheard their conversation.
“Did you see that woman with Jonathan Davis?” the first woman began.
“Who didn’t? I had to keep elbowing my husband in the ribs to stop his staring,” the second woman added. “I’d love to get my hands on her dress, but I don’t think it would look half as good on me.”
“Evidently he’s been introducing her as his girlfriend. I Googled her; she’s a model. Seems Jonathan stays true to type.”
“Another model? I’d have thought he’d have learned his lesson the first time.”
The first woman laughed. “Men’s memories are shorter than their dicks. At least she won’t be disappointed, for however long it lasts. He’s good-looking, has money, and is wonderful in bed.”
“Well, you of all people should know. I still can’t believe you let him get away. You lusted after him for years.”
“I tried my best. He was monk-like when he was married but after he divorced, I managed to get him in bed. But Jonathan doesn’t do commitment. At least not anymore,” the first woman revealed.
“Well, you’ve got
Edward now,” the second woman tried to console her.
“Yes, Edward. Not as good-looking, or as rich, but at least he didn’t run for the hills when I tried to take things to the next level.”
Their voices faded, and the sound of their shoes on the floor disappeared. Olivia waited for a moment to be sure they were gone before exiting the stall. She stared at herself in the mirror while she washed her hands.
If this woman, from his own world, couldn’t get him to commit, what hope do I have? Great, I’ve done it again. Got so caught up in the fantasy of a real, loving family, I forgot who I am and what I need.
Her stomach lurched and she had to grab the wall for support. Her whole body rebelled at the idea of leaving Jonathan. There was no way she could tell him tonight without dissolving in a flood of tears. It was going to take some practice and a hell of a lot of tissues.
When she finally felt she could walk without throwing up, she rejoined Jonathan in the East Room. Thankfully he was alone for once.
“Is everything okay?” he asked as she approached.
“Yes, fine.” Olivia pasted one of her modeling smiles on her face. “I’m just exhausted from shopping all day with your sister and now standing all evening in these shoes. My feet hurt and I’ve got a headache coming on—do you mind if I leave?” She needed to get out of there before she came face to face with the women behind the voices.
Just then the photographer who had been making rounds, snapping photos of the guests, approached. Her model training kicked in and she posed next to Jonathan as if nothing were wrong.
As soon as the man moved away, Jonathan searched her face, concern in his eyes. “Let’s get your coat.” He put his arm around her waist and led her toward the door.
“You don’t need to come. I can get a taxi home,” she protested, but he didn’t release her.
“No way. If I don’t go with you, there will be such a mass exodus of men from this building, the media will think there’s a run on the bank,” he replied, deadpan. “Markets will collapse and the world economy will be thrown into another recession.”
All the way home in the taxi, the women’s conversation repeated in her mind like one of those soundtracks played to torture terrorists: Another model? Jonathan doesn’t do commitment.
No wonder their girlfriend/boyfriend experiment had so far netted her two kisses and his hand in hers or at her waist. Jonathan’s relationship next level was most people’s entry point. She couldn’t put her life on hold waiting for something that may never happen.
All she wanted now was to go to bed, climb under her duvet, and never surface. Jonathan held her hand but kept silent. Was it out of consideration for her supposed headache or was he realizing this relationship was doomed as well?
She needed to make sure she had a life to go to when this all fell apart.
Chapter 14
Olivia scraped a stuck-on Cheerio off the table. What the hell was in these things? Industrial glue? In addition to breakfast cereal removal, she’d done more washing in the past few months than she had in years. Models had nothing on toddlers when it came to the frequency with which they changed their outfits. Then there were the sticky surfaces to clean and endless toys to put away. Who needed the gym when they spent their day chasing an almost-two-year-old around the house?
Her phone rang and she snatched it up, pleased at the prospect of some adult conversation. Heck, even a telemarketer might get five minutes of her time today. Excitement and guilt battled within her as she saw it was her agent calling. Was it wrong to want just a little bit of her own life even though she’d promised Jonathan three months?
“Darling, you are a genius. Pure brilliance. Take yourself off the market so no one has seen you for a while. Then appear in a vintage designer dress standing next to one of Britain’s most eligible bachelors, and get your photo in every newspaper, online celebrity magazine, and gossip site in Europe. I couldn’t have staged it better myself. My phone has been ringing off the hook all morning.”
Olivia turned down the volume on the phone. Her agent had a loud voice at the best of times, but when Maxine was animated, it was like a foghorn. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the biggest break your career is ever likely to get. You have to come back on the market. Right now. I have bookings for you into next summer. I see Victoria’s Secret and Sports Illustrated in your future. Come to the studio tomorrow at two and bring that dress. We have to update your portfolio. Ciao, darling.”
“Maxine, wait. I can’t.” The pressure in her chest was so intense she dragged in two deep breaths before she could continue. It was the excitement, wasn’t it? “I can’t come tomorrow. Jonathan flew to Hong Kong this morning and I can’t leave Hannah.”
“This is your career we’re talking about, Olivia. I think you need to get your priorities straight. Find someone else to look after the kid. Do you want me to send Rachel over?”
Rachel was her agent’s receptionist who sometimes couldn’t find the phone. Olivia shuddered to think how she’d manage Hannah. “No. I … I just can’t at the moment, Maxine. I’ll give you a call next week.”
Her agent released an aggravated sigh. “All right, how about this? I send the photographer to you. I’ve got meetings with a huge client this weekend, and I must have these shots to show him.”
Hannah usually took a two-hour nap. If they were quick, this could work. She could even get a few professional pictures taken of Hannah as a gift to Jonathan and his family. “Okay. Tell him to come here at two. You have my new address?”
After confirming the details, Olivia put the phone down. If she believed in signs, the call from her agent read “Exit Here” in bold, capital letters.
Her phone rang again and Jonathan’s number came up. She didn’t trust her voice to work, so she let it go to voicemail. He usually called when he arrived at his destination, just a “got here safe” message. He’d ask after Hannah and her before dashing off to a meeting. He was quite considerate in that way.
She glanced over at Hannah, playing tea party with her dolls, and the pain in her chest returned. The little girl looked up, and the same cerulean blue eyes as her father smiled at her. Olivia felt like she’d just been stabbed in the heart.
How could she leave?
• • •
Jonathan was exhausted, frustrated, and annoyed as hell. He trudged through the pouring rain, soaked from head to foot. His umbrella had blown inside out and was completely useless in the wind. He could have waited forty-five minutes for a taxi but chose to walk the ten blocks from the Tube. A fifteen-minute walk, even in this deluge, seemed the better option to see Olivia and Hannah half an hour sooner.
He hadn’t spoken to Olivia in three days—since the night of the exhibition at the Tate. He’d left voice messages on her phone, which she’d responded to with texts saying everything was all right. Except he had a sinking feeling that it wasn’t.
And of course he’d gone to bed every night with the vision of her in the gold dress, eliminating any possibility of sleep.
Tomorrow they were to travel north for his sister’s wedding. Tonight was the only time he’d have alone with Olivia. They were halfway through their three-month trial and he needed to know what she felt about the future.
His heart lifted as he walked into his drive; the lights were on in the kitchen and the porch. He was home.
As he stepped into the hallway, hung his dripping coat on the stand, and kicked off his sodden shoes, he heard Hannah’s tinkle of laughter. Despite his exhaustion, he smiled. “Anyone missing a daddy?” he called out.
A delighted shriek preceded tiny feet that sounded like a herd of elephants on the hardwood floor. How such a little thing could make so much noise he had yet to figure out.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Hannah launched herself at him and he caught her mid-bound. She squeezed him tight and kissed his cold cheek, warming him from the inside. He returned the embrace and then took a deep breath, preparing f
or the bolt of desire that always shot through him whenever he saw Olivia. Turning his gaze from his daughter, he was shocked to find a young man in the kitchen doorway and not Olivia.
“Hello, Mr. Davis. I’m James Stephens, Sophia’s brother.”
His stomach fell to his knees, joined milliseconds later by his heart. “Olivia? Is she okay? Where is she?” Panic seized him.
“Daddy, ow,” Hannah protested. He looked down and realized he’d been squeezing her little leg. He rubbed it and gave her a kiss in apology.
“Olivia is fine,” James hurried to reassure him. “She got called into work and asked me to look after Hannah until you got back.”
Work? She worked for him, didn’t she? Not that he’d ever considered her an employee. The contract had simply been a way to appease his conscience that he wasn’t taking advantage of her generosity.
“I was just about to give Hannah her dinner. If you come into the kitchen, I’ll explain,” James continued.
Hannah wiggled in his arms and he put her down. A stab of jealousy ripped into him as Hannah slipped her hand into James’s and walked with him into the kitchen. Both females in his life had deserted him in one night.
“Would you mind starting at the beginning? I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about you.” Surely Olivia wouldn’t leave Hannah with just anybody.
James dished some pasta onto a plastic plate for Hannah and then helped her into her booster seat. “I’ve known Olivia for years. As I said, she and my sister are best friends. Then when Dad and I were visiting Sophia in Italy in the summer, we met Hannah. I think you were here in London.”
Jonathan nodded. He remembered now Olivia mentioning that some of Sophia’s family had come to visit. But that still didn’t explain James’s presence in his home.
“So, when Olivia called and asked if I could look after Hannah until you came home, I jumped at the chance to play with my little friend again.” He smiled at Hannah and then made a silly face, causing her to giggle.