Very gently, she placed the bag back on top of the cookies. As tempting as Milky Ways were, she couldn’t bear to taste the memories. Wherever Zeke was, she hoped he was happy.
She picked up her phone to call Hunter but paused to look at the photograph of Max on the screen. With his dark hair and brown eyes, he took after the Dare side of the family, but he had Hunter’s chin. A sweet glow filled Julia’s chest, but it faded when she pulled up Hunter’s newest text.
Hey babe. Julia shook her head. How many times did she have to tell him not to call her that before he would respect her request? Where are u? I’m free on Saturday. Let’s get together. You me and Max.
Julia typed back. Can’t. Will still be at Caliente Springs. He knew her schedule; he just didn’t respect her enough to remember it.
While waiting for a reply, she swiftly put on a tailored red dress with side belts and gold buttons. Her favorite. The red made her dark hair almost black, and the gold matched her light brown eyes.
Hunter’s text came through. Ok. So just Max and me.
She tapped in, Plans?
This time Hunter answered immediately. TBD.
“To be determined” could mean anything from McDonald’s to a day at Castaic Lake racing around on Hunter’s speedboat. An image flew through her mind of Hunter putting Max on water skis, even though Max could barely dog-paddle. There was also the bike in her mother’s garage, far too big for Max and another gift from Hunter. In spite of the training wheels, Max had toppled hard while pedaling fast to impress his daddy. The scab on his elbow was still as thick as a nickel.
She couldn’t let Hunter take Max for the day without knowing his plans, so she called him. It went to voice mail, but two minutes later, her phone meowed with the ringtone she had assigned to Hunter to amuse Max.
“So,” she said, trying to sound friendly instead of controlling, one of his complaints about her, “what does TBD mean?”
Hunter chuckled. “Babe, you worry too much.”
“I’m a mom. It’s my job.”
“And I’m a dad.” Hunter’s tone took on an edge. “I love Max as much as you do. He’s my mini-me.”
Coming from Hunter, Julia hated that expression. Max was a little boy, not a clone of his dad. There was no point in quarreling, so she kept her voice even. “What do you have in mind for Saturday?”
“How about the zoo?”
“It sounds fun.” And far safer than the speedboat. “I won’t be home until late afternoon. I’ll tell my mom you’re picking him up.”
“I’ll text her.”
“All right.” But Julia would call her mom too. She didn’t trust Hunter to stick to the plan, and she didn’t want her mom to be caught in the middle. “What time will you bring him home?”
“Come on, babe. Relax.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
“Come with us. It’ll be fun.”
“I told you. I can’t.” Even if she were home, she’d say no. A family date would send the wrong message to Hunter, the master of the yo-yo relationship, and it would confuse Max, who was still adjusting to his parents being apart.
Hunter’s gruffest voice came over the phone. “I know you love me, Julia. I love you too, and we both love Max. I want us to be a family. I want—”
“Hunter, stop.”
“We should have gotten married when he was born.”
As if the choice had been hers! She had brought up marriage and even made a fun little proposal when the pregnancy test came out positive, but Hunter put her off with a long engagement and plans for a big wedding. A year passed and they delayed the wedding two more times. When he wanted to delay it a third time, she finally saw the truth: He valued the show of a wedding more than he valued marriage. Or her.
“Babe, are you there?”
“Yes. I’m here.”
“I love you, Julia. Just say the word, and we’ll head to Vegas.”
In your dreams, pal. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“You know why.” They were talking about her faith, something Hunter didn’t respect. Knowing how he felt, she muttered good-bye and ended the call.
After six years, she knew Hunter well. The counselor she saw after leaving him thought he had narcissistic tendencies. In Greek mythology, Narcissus was a man in love with himself and incapable of truly loving others. “Narcissists feed on people,” the counselor had told Julia. “They love you for what you give them. If you reflect Hunter back to Hunter, he’ll love you. If you don’t, he’ll lash out at you.”
Julia could cope with Hunter’s demands, but how did she protect Max from a father who couldn’t love his son the way a boy needed to be loved?
She didn’t know, and she was running late for the meeting with Ashley. She dabbed on lipstick, picked up her portfolio, and rode the elevator to the lobby. Heels clacking on the marble floor, she walked to the concierge desk. She didn’t see Ashley anywhere. Not a good sign for a hotel that sold itself on customer service.
Wearing a slight frown, she approached the concierge, a young Hispanic man with the spit-shine polish of a U.S. Marine. He greeted her with a smile. “Good afternoon. How can I help you today?”
“I’m looking for Ashley Tate.”
“You must be Ms. Dare.”
“Yes, I am.”
Behind her, a mellow tenor voice rose above the dull hum of the lobby. “Hello, Jules.”
Jules. Only Zeke Monroe called her by that name. Slowly, her heart pounding, she turned and saw a man in a heather gray suit. A man with Zeke’s broad shoulders, those unforgettable blue eyes, and dark blond hair streaked gold from the sun. The Milky Ways suddenly made sense.
Somehow she unglued her tongue and managed a single word. “Zeke?”
His grin widened. “The same.”
“How—what—”
She gaped at him as he closed the space between them. The moment called for a handshake, but her body swayed toward his, as if her muscles remembered what her heart needed to forget. His arms slipped around her and they hugged with a stiffness born of too many memories.
She broke away, but even as she started to pull back, their hands met and their fingers entwined.
“I can’t believe this,” she murmured.
“Neither could I when my assistant told me you were here.” He flashed the relaxed smile that used to put her at ease. “It’s great to see you.”
“Same here.”
Except acid burned in the back of her throat. Back in college she had betrayed Zeke with Hunter, and he didn’t know it. The three of them had worked together at St. John’s Refuge House. Zeke as a paid assistant manager; Julia as an intern for a sociology class; and Hunter, a law student, as a legal aid volunteer. There was no excuse for what she had done, only the pathetic explanation that she’d been dazzled by Hunter’s confidence and seduced by a cynicism that, at the time, had matched her own.
Zeke gave her hands a gentle squeeze and let go. “You’re here on business. Let’s go to my office and talk about Carter Home Goods. We can catch up on the personal stuff after that.”
two
Zeke glanced at Julia’s left hand. No wedding band. No rings of any kind, and she looked great in red. The dress skimmed above her knees and showed off long legs that ended in high heels instead of the ballet flats she wore in college. Her eyes were the same light brown, a honey color, but her hair was different. Tamer than he recalled, but still shoulder-length and full of loose curls.
“Well.” She rested her arm on the leather portfolio hanging from her shoulder. “I’m starting to recover from the shock. How did this happen?”
Zeke reached in his coat for a business card. “I’m general manager.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
When he held out the card, she pinched it with her manicured fingers, read it, and studied him with a look that mixed surprise with admiration. “This place is light years from St. John’s, but in
a way it makes sense.”
“How?”
“You’re still taking care of people.”
Food. Shelter. Respite from the demands of life. Call him Martha Stewart, but he was at home in the hospitality industry. “It’s a good fit. Bigger, obviously, and we have more balls in the air. I wouldn’t have known you were here, except Ashley had a personal emergency.”
“Oh no.” Julia’s dark brows collided. “Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. Her daughter has asthma.”
“Rachel.”
“That’s right.” Kudos to Ashley. She’d made a strong connection with a potential client. “They’re at the ER now, so I’m filling in. When I heard your name, I couldn’t believe it. You look the same, Jules.”
“Thank you. But I go by Julia now.”
“Of course.” She’d grown up and so had he. Berkeley was a long time ago. He indicated an alcove off the lobby. “This way.”
They fell into step, crossed the lobby, and walked into a nook with vending machines, pay phones, and a door marked “Private” with a keypad lock. Zeke punched in the numbers and opened it wide. “My office is at the end.”
As they walked down the corridor, she skimmed the names and titles stenciled on the glass doors. “I thought you were in Chile with your parents.”
“It’s a long story.”
They passed human resources, marketing, and guest relations. Housekeeping and accounting were located down a different hall along with the chief maintenance engineer and the food services manager. Zeke’s office was at the intersection of the two corridors. When they reached his door, he held it open while Julia walked into a sitting area with leather chairs, an oak table, and western art on the walls.
Irene was seated behind the reception counter and working on a spreadsheet, probably the report for Ginger. When Zeke made the introductions, Julia extended her hand, something not everyone did for an administrative assistant.
Irene’s gaze shifted to Zeke. “Ashley called a few minutes ago.”
“How’s Rachel?”
“Out of danger. They gave her a breathing treatment and sent her home.” Irene focused on Julia. “Do you know about Ashley’s daughter?”
“I do. It’s rough.”
Zeke broke back in. “Send balloons to Ashley’s apartment. Something fun.”
Irene gave him a smug smile. “I knew you’d say that. The Disney Princess balloon bouquet is already on the way.”
“Thanks.” As usual, Irene was two steps ahead of him. He rapped his knuckles on the wood counter, then aimed his chin at the short hallway. “My office is this way.”
Julia led the way down the carpeted hall but stopped at the open door on the left. She peered inside, unsure.
“This is it.” Zeke reached past her and pushed the door another inch.
She took several steps inside. Turning in a slow circle, she surveyed the desk, the corner windows, the diplomas and awards, and his personal artifacts on the bookshelves, including his collection of geodes, hollow rocks split in two to reveal colorful crystals.
He propped a hip on the corner of his desk. “Look around. You’ll see a few things you recognize.”
She murmured something that sounded like more than a few, then approached the shelf holding an irregular-shaped geode with a turquoise center. “I gave this to you.”
Memories of their only Valentine’s Day slammed into him. She had packed a picnic, and they’d hiked to the middle of nowhere in Muir Woods, a stunning forest of redwoods, clover, and lush ferns. When he spread the blanket he kept in his old pickup on the ground, she set down the wicker basket and faced him. A kiss. Two kisses. He had restrained himself, mostly. He remembered everything about that day—the fog lingering in the tops of the redwoods, the sun breaking through the silver mist, the crisscross of shadows and refracted light.
Don’t go there. Zeke swallowed hard.
Julia turned away from the geode and focused on the wall displaying his diplomas and awards. She read each one, then approached his desk, where Han Solo stood ready for battle next to the pencil cup.
“You’re still you,” Julia said. “But you’ve changed.”
“A lot.”
“Me too. More than I ever imagined.”
That turquoise geode. Her heart pounded against her ribs, shooting her back to St. John’s and the first time she saw Zeke. Tall and muscular, he’d been wearing a dark blue T-shirt, Levi’s, and work boots. It was the middle of September and the first day of her internship. She’d been searching for the office when he saw the lost look on her face and approached.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m the new intern. I’m looking for Zeke Monroe.”
“That’s me.”
When he smiled, she had melted into a puddle of hormones. But that was ancient history. They were very different people now, and she needed to focus on doing her job.
Except when she turned to Zeke, he was opening a mini fridge next to his desk. “How about a Sprite?”
Her beverage of choice. He knew that. “No, thank you.”
He closed the fridge without taking anything for himself and rocked back on his heels, his hands in his pockets the way she’d seen a hundred times before. Focus on the job. But what popped out of her mouth was a question. “How did you end up at Caliente Springs?”
“That’s another long story.”
“Tell me.”
He indicated she should sit in the guest chair at his desk, then he dropped down in his own bigger chair. “Have you heard of Home and Hearth?”
“It’s a charity, isn’t it?”
“Yes, nationwide. About twenty years ago, a business mogul named Harlan Jones turned a run-down motel into a homeless shelter, called it a campus, and ran it like an assisted-living facility. Add in vocational training and a code-of-living contract for the residents, and you have Home and Hearth. Some residents stay a very long time. Others recover from whatever life handed them and move on.”
“What a great idea.”
“I worked at the LA facility during grad school. That’s where I met George Travers. He’s on the national board of directors, but he’s also hands-on. He spent a lot of time with the residents.”
“I’ve heard of him. Country music, right?”
“One of the Travers Twins,” Zeke explained. “He and his sister Ginger were big back in the eighties.”
“My mom was a fan. She still keeps his old vinyls on a shelf. Back then, he was a heartthrob.”
Zeke grinned. “He’d object to back then.”
“My mom would too.”
“How is she?”
“Good.” Julia didn’t dare say more about her family because of Max and Hunter. “What’s the connection between George and your job?”
“He and Ginger own this place. When I finished my MBA, I moved into management at Home and Hearth and worked as West Coast director. George poached me away about eight months ago.”
“I’m impressed.” Her own career path had been a downhill slide from ambitious do-gooder to unemployed temp to struggling business owner. “But what happened to going back to Chile?”
Looking down, he picked up a geode paperweight and rubbed the coarse exterior with his thumb. “I’m not the same person I was in college, but there’s another reason. A sad one. My parents died in a plane crash.”
“Oh, Zeke.” Sorrow rocketed along every nerve, a mix of empathy for Zeke and the old grief for her dad. “I’m so sorry. When did it happen?”
“Almost two years ago.”
“Two years or two months—it still hurts.”
“You know how it is.”
Their eyes locked, and in the way of the couple they’d been in Berkeley, they recognized the memory of Julia getting that awful phone call from her mom. Her father, an insurance broker, had suffered a heart attack at the office. Zeke took her to the airport, then drove to LA to be with her. She had leaned on him with all her might in those dark days.
> It was later, when the shock wore off, that she had accused him of shoving religion down her throat.
Zeke set down the paperweight. “What about you? Dare to Dream is based in LA, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I moved back home with my mom. It was good for both of us.” And Max, but she kept that detail to herself. “There’s not a lot to tell.” At least not a lot she wanted to tell. “I’ve worked some different jobs. Event planning suits me, so I started Dare to Dream.”
He waited for more.
“I like it.” She reached into the portfolio. “Carter Home Goods is my first big client, and I’m on a tight deadline. Could we get started?”
“Of course.” He hooked a thumb at a flat screen on the wall. “Ashley planned to start with a PowerPoint presentation, but I’m more hands-on. How about a tour?”
“Sure.”
“You might want to change into something more casual. We’re going to do some walking.”
“No, thanks.” The red dress made her feel professional, and she needed that barrier between herself and Zeke.
He glanced at her shoes. “If you’re sure—”
“I am.”
He picked up a two-way radio off the charger on his desk and raised it to his mouth. “GM to Valet.”
“Yes, sir. Valet 3 here.”
“My SUV’s in the employee lot. Would you bring it around front?”
He clipped the radio to his belt and came around the desk. Together they headed to the lobby, where the revolving door spilled them out onto the sidewalk. The smells of mulch and car exhaust blended together in the heat, along with a hint of Zeke’s aftershave, something smoky and dark and new to him.
A white SUV zipped up the road and stopped in front of them. A valet hustled to open her door, but Zeke waved him off. “I’ve got it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hearing Zeke called sir was as surreal as standing in his office. He held out his hand, indicating the portfolio on her shoulder. “I’ll put that in the back.”
Someone Like You Page 2