Behind the Red Doors

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  She swallowed hard, unable to look at him. What a fool she was. She had read far too much into their casual dates and occasional phone conversations. “I’m going home.”

  “I’ll take you home.”

  She opened her purse and withdrew her leather gloves. “No. I don’t want to see you anymore, Carter.”

  Silence. Then, “Let me make it up to you.”

  A cab slowed and pulled in next to the curb. She reached for the door handle and his warm hand closed over hers.

  “Faith,” he said softly, earnestly. “I’d like to see your pretty dress.”

  She swung her gaze up to his. Big mistake, because the intensity in his green eyes reminded her of everything she’d wanted to happen tonight—for them to take their fledgling relationship to the next level. But while she had been thinking Valentine’s Day candlelight and romance, he had been thinking Thursday night beer and ribs. And worse, now he knew what she’d been hoping for. He knew she cared more.

  She tugged open the cab door. “Goodbye, Carter.”

  He hovered behind her as she slid into the seat. “Faith, it doesn’t have to end like this,” he said, spanning the open door.

  “Yes, it does.”

  “But why? I thought we had a good thing going.”

  She was glad his face was cast in shadows—it made him easier to resist. “It’s my fault, Carter. I’m looking for something you’re not prepared to offer.”

  He glanced around, as if whatever she was looking for might suddenly appear. “What’s that?”

  Faith wanted to shake him, but his cluelessness seemed dishearteningly sincere. He was lost to her, but maybe the next woman could benefit from her gross miscalculation. “What am I looking for? A re-la-tion-ship. A bona fide, old-fashioned, oneman, one-woman thing. Let’s face it, Carter, you are not commitment material.”

  Her words must have sufficiently stunned or angered him, because he stepped back as she slammed the cab door closed. She gave the cabbie her address in a choked voice, dug in her purse for a napkin, and resisted the urge to look back as they drove away.

  Carter Grayson stood watching the cab pull away, feeling as if he’d been hit by a double-decker bus. Faith Sherman was one hell of a looker and could hold her own at a pool table—not at all what he’d expected out of the daughter of one of the oldest, wealthiest families in Chicago. He’d thought they were having fun and maybe were headed for a good no-strings-attached roll in the hay.

  Or two.

  He had no idea she wanted…all that other stuff. Especially from him, a roughneck whose original art collection consisted of his niece’s crayon drawings, and whose wardrobe was dictated by which pair of jeans happened to be clean.

  You’d think that one of the guys at the precinct would’ve informed him today was Valentine’s Day—a suspect holiday at best, but one that somehow had been elevated to the status of relationship benchmark. And apparently, he had failed. Horribly.

  Carter sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. Perhaps he should have foregone police work and looked into soothsaying. It appeared he was never going to master this dating thing until he could learn to read a woman’s mind. Still, dammit, he’d never been dumped before.

  Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted an object lying on the sidewalk where Faith had stepped into the cab. Had she dropped something? He squatted and a dry laugh escaped him. A condom?

  Well, well, he and the lovely lady might have been entertaining some of the same thoughts, after all. He stood and slipped the packet into his jacket pocket, then stared in the direction she’d gone. For a split second, he was struck by the sensation that he’d just missed out on more than a night of excellent sex.

  Carter rubbed at the sudden tightness in his chest and, to his relief, the feeling passed.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Saturday morning, February 1, 2003

  FAITH FINGERED the brass nameplate on her desk: Faith Sherman, Owner And Manager, Diamond Mine Jewelry. “I owe you one, Dev,” she said into the phone.

  “So did Captain Stewart,” Dev said. “That’s why he promised to personally select a light-duty officer to handle the security for this Valentino diamond. He said a uniform would stop by the jewelry store this afternoon for instructions.”

  She hoped “light duty” didn’t mean inexperienced, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. And she couldn’t very well expect the city of Chicago to take one of its finest officers off the street to baby-sit a pretty rock. “Thanks, Dev. I’ll phone the insurance company to let them know we’ll have an extra armed guard on the premises.”

  “Jamie said you have great coverage lined up to let the public know the stone will be on display. The crowds could be huge.”

  “Let’s just hope that huge crowds lead to huge sales. We need a strong Valentine’s Day showing.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “You and Jamie have been talking a lot lately.”

  “Um…listen, sis, there’s a phone call on the other line that I need to take. See you for coffee in the morning?”

  “Sure.”

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.” Faith hung up the phone and smiled. Dev and her business partner, Jamie, had both been acting strange lately when she mentioned the other person’s name. Maybe this Valentine’s Day would be successful for somebody. She leaned back in her desk chair and sighed. After last year’s fiasco with Carter Grayson, she had written off all future emotional expectations for the most romantic day of the year. Instead, she was planning her first vacation since the opening of The Red Doors boutique at the beginning of November. This February 14, after she locked the doors on The Diamond Mine—the self-contained jewelry store that was her domain in the upscale mall—she was heading for the airport and a week of blissful solitude on Captiva Island, Florida. She would be far away from the chilly temperatures of Chicago, and the chilly reminder that, once again, she was alone on Valentine’s Day.

  Faith pushed to her feet and hugged herself. Almost a year later, it was still impossible to remember that evening waiting for Carter and to not feel overcome with humiliation. She hadn’t seen him or talked to him since.

  Not that she’d expected to after laying all of her expectations at his feet like that. Still, she had no regrets. She did wonder from time to time, though, about his safety considering his somewhat cavalier attitude about his own well-being.

  But she had more pressing items on her plate at the moment, such as the next two-week sales period. The solvency of the entire mall hinged on the potential high-dollar-volume sales generated from the jewelry store. Bringing in the Valentino diamond had been her brainchild to help increase visibility and foot traffic. She hoped the gimmick worked, although she hated to resort to gimmicks at all—it smacked of The Gift Program, their copycat competition. But she would use whatever means necessary to get women into the store and registered on the “wish list” database. That database, combined with aggressive follow-up reminders to husbands and boyfriends, Faith firmly believed, was the key to their success.

  She wanted the sales success for her partner Jamie’s sake—she felt responsible for talking her friend into giving up her corporate systems engineering job to take a stab at a high-end retail concept. But, darn it, she wanted the sales success for herself, too, to prove to her family that she had inherited some of the Sherman business sense. Her father had agreed to rent them the bottom two floors of the Sherman Building—prime storefront property on Michigan Avenue—at a reduced rate. But D. H. Sherman had maintained his conviction that his children should earn their own way and, thus, had cautioned Faith that he wouldn’t intervene if the business stumbled. Bottom line—The Red Doors needed to be making headway by the second quarter, and Valentine’s Day would be the best indicator of their momentum.

  Massaging her neck, cramped from poring over catalogs and financial statements, Faith walked over to the valet stand in her office and removed the slate-gray suit jacket hanging there. Thirty minutes until opening—just enough time to meet everyone down
stairs for a cup of coffee.

  As always, her spirits rose when she exited her office into the showroom of The Diamond Mine, a dazzling presentation of gold, silver, platinum and mixed-ore jewelry in state-of-the-art tiered display cases lined in splendid black. Grounded in luxurious red carpet, the room exuded masculinity, from its dark mahogany walls adorned with brushed nickel sconces, to the tall, black-leather chairs placed next to the cases for serious browsers, to the bass-rich jazz playing over Bose speakers, to the massive red door leading into the opulent surroundings from the mezzanine.

  Despite its impressive size, the door was spring-loaded to glide open and closed. She stepped through and locked the door behind her, then paused to take in the realization of the dream she and Jamie and Dev had conceived nearly two years ago. One positive thing had come out of that last encounter with Carter Grayson—she had abandoned the destructive fantasy of life beginning when she found the right man and had immersed herself in their business plan. In less than a year, The Red Doors was open for business, introducing a new retailing concept of individual high-end shops under one roof. If you weren’t a sexual being when you walked into The Red Doors, you certainly were by the time you walked out.

  To her left and behind red door number one was the Heaven Scent boutique, a sumptuous sensual feast of perfumes and aromatherapy products—Jamie’s domain. To her right and behind red door number three was the Sheer Delights boutique, a visual indulgence of lingerie and loungewear to satisfy every lover’s desire. Dixie Merriweather was straightening a deep-red floor-length dressing gown on a curvaceous mannequin in the window. She smiled and waved at Faith. Faith waved back. “Coffee?” she mouthed.

  “In a minute,” Dixie mouthed back, and indicated she would join her downstairs.

  Correction—two positive things had come out of the last encounter with Carter: Dixie, the beautiful blond, sociable middle-aged bartender who dispensed wine and wisdom had popped into Faith’s mind when she and Jamie had sat down to define the type of woman they needed to run the lingerie store. Dixie was a smooth-talking Southern belle who knew how to flatter male customers without taking any guff. She was the men’s mother, sister, aunt and teacher, and she could sell the sky, one blue patch at a time. Women customers loved her because she encouraged them to take risks and made them feel beautiful.

  The Diamond Mine, behind red door number two, sat in the center. Faith liked to think of it as the crowning jewel of the posh establishment—not that she was biased.

  With a satisfied nod, she turned and descended the circular staircase that swept up both sides from the ground floor and the main entry. More plush red carpet on the stairs stole the sound of her footsteps until she reached the gleaming black-and-white checkerboard marble tiles. The two-story foyer, open to the mezzanine level lay wide and bare except for a row of potted palms that led customers into an area beneath the shops. There, customers were treated to a sitting area of wide, comfy chairs, an immense fireplace, a shoeshine stand with complimentary newspapers, private booths housing computers for customers who preferred to shop online, and a coffee bar aptly named The Red Bean. The coffee bar was already renowned for its exceptional cherry-bark coffee and miniature croissants, and for Alfred Willis, chief server-slash-handyman-slash-concierge and all-around gentleman, affectionately known as Mr. Willis.

  “Good morning, Mr. Willis.”

  The stately man turned and a smile lit his pleasant face. “Good morning to you, Miss Faith. What can I get for you this fine day?”

  She shivered and slid onto a stool. “Something warm with a jolt.”

  “I know just the thing,” he said, then poured something that smelled delicious from a carafe into a Red Doors’s ceramic mug and set it in front of her. “There you are, madam.”

  Faith lifted the mug and inhaled. “Mmm, vanilla?”

  He nodded, pleased.

  She drank deeply and closed her eyes. “Mr. Willis, this is divine.”

  He blushed to the roots of his salt-and-pepper hair—what little was left—and tugged at his immaculate tie. “My pleasure.”

  “A man would warm you better,” Dixie said, winking at the gentleman and sliding onto the stool next to Faith.

  Mr. Willis pursed his lips and Faith smiled. “Don’t mind Dixie, Mr. Willis.”

  He harrumphed and Dixie laughed teasingly at him, which only flustered him further. “I’ll have the morning blend with a shot of Baileys, Alfred.”

  Faith hid her smile in her cup as his jaw tightened. Maybe working in the lingerie store was starting to affect Dixie—she seemed to delight in tormenting the unflappable man.

  “You know we don’t serve libations here,” he said in a clipped tone.

  The older woman sighed dramatically. “Okay, plain old cream then. I guess I’ll live.”

  Faith shook her head. Dixie looked more vibrant than any woman had a right to—knockout legs, snug orange sweater, radiant skin, and flashing brown eyes. Fifty-six never looked so good.

  “Where are Jamie and Dev this morning?”

  “Dev’s already in his office and Jamie seems to be running late.” She arched an eyebrow. “They’re both off-schedule today. Hmm. Faith, have you lost weight?”

  She laughed. “Not quite.”

  “Not that you need to,” Dixie said. “You got the kind of curves a man likes to ride, honey.”

  Mr. Willis cleared his throat disapprovingly.

  Dixie shot him a frown, then said, “Seriously, your clothes are getting loose.”

  “I joined a gym,” Faith said. Her Christmas present to herself. Get out more, meet people, forget about Carter—wait…where had that come from?

  “A gym? But you already run a hundred miles a week.”

  “I run two miles a day.”

  “Gawd—isn’t that enough?”

  “I’m just playing around with the dumbbells at the gym, toning up a little.”

  “Well, do me a favor and don’t turn into a gym bunny, okay?”

  Faith laughed. “No worry there as long as Ben & Jerry’s stays in business.” In truth, she hadn’t been able to eat Karamel Sutra since she’d pigged out so excessively on it last year. She didn’t even want to think about how many calories she’d consumed that night. Or how many napkins she’d gone through during her crying jag. The elderly cabbie had been so distraught that he’d walked her to her door and refused a tip.

  Dixie sipped from her cup, made a face, then asked, “Got plans for Valentine’s Day?”

  A mouthful of coffee went down hard. “I’m going on vacation, remember?”

  “Oh. Right. Florida. Alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm.”

  Faith concentrated on her coffee. Dixie was probably remembering the pathetic picture she’d been last year, all dressed up and nowhere to come—er, go. She’d hoped against hope that she hadn’t dropped that condom at the bar. If Dixie had found it and connected it to Faith, she hadn’t said so. And while Dixie could be outrageous, she’d never teased Faith about that night, as if she sensed it was too sensitive a topic.

  Faith finished her coffee in one drink. Why, all of a sudden, she was determined to relive the details of that night, she couldn’t fathom. A year had passed. She’d embarked on a new career. She’d had other men…over for dinner. “I need to set up the cases,” she said abruptly, and stood so quickly she nearly tripped over the stool. She ignored the sharp look Dixie gave her, thanked Mr. Willis for the coffee, and wheeled to go. At the last minute, she remembered her conversation with Dev and turned back.

  “Oh, Mr. Willis, I’m expecting a police officer to stop by sometime today to discuss security for the Valentino diamond.”

  “Yes, Miss Faith. A man or a woman?”

  “Actually, I’m not sure.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out. Shall I call you when the officer arrives or send him or her on up to the jewelry store?”

  “Send the officer on up.”

  CARTER GRAYSON stared at the piece of p
aper, then back to Captain Stewart. “You can’t be serious.”

  “As an effing heart attack.”

  “Chief, this is a security guard job—I’m a lieutenant!”

  “You’re a wounded lieutenant who got that way because you didn’t follow procedure.”

  Carter set his jaw. “I always follow procedure.”

  “Like wearing your bulletproof vest?”

  He ground his teeth. “A bulletproof vest wouldn’t have kept me from getting shot in the leg.”

  “I was making a point.” His captain sat back in his chair. “Grayson, if you have some sort of problem, you could tell me and we’ll get you some help.”

  “Problem, Sir?”

  “You know—alcohol, drugs.”

  He scoffed. “I don’t even take the painkillers the doctor gave me for my leg.”

  “Is it a woman?”

  “I don’t have a woman.”

  “Maybe that’s your problem.”

  “Are you my captain or my mother?”

  His captain shrugged. “Something’s affecting your concentration. You refuse to take vacation time, you’ve been as cross as a damn bear with everyone around here, and considering the way the Dorsey Avenue bust went down, you’ve been about as reckless as one, too.”

  Carter bit down on the inside of his cheek until the metallic taste of blood filtered into his mouth. First his friends and relatives, and now his co-workers—was this some kind of conspiracy?

  His captain sighed and steepled his hands. “Look, Grayson, I know this assignment is a pissant job, but you could use some downtime. I can’t put you back on the street until you’re well, so it’s this or desk duty.”

  Carter winced.

  “Take it, son. Take a couple of weeks and work out whatever’s messing with your mind. There’s even a gym close to this place where you can finish your rehab.”

  Carter knew when to say when. He dropped into a chair with a defeated sigh, rubbed his throbbing leg, then reread the assignment sheet. “The Diamond Mine.” He looked back up. “Never heard of it.”