The doorman opened her door, waiting for her to emerge.
Charisse was confused, but opted to act upon the invitation to enter the hotel’s interior.
“Welcome to the Crisfield Hotel.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, completely in awe of the exquisite elegance of the hotel lobby. She followed the escort to the VIP check-in counter. She saw her sole suitcase waiting at the side of a bellman.
She was handed the room key card. “Your suite is on the tenth floor with the river view.”
“I’m surprised that a room is ready.” She took the key card, grateful to be able to get into her room before the meeting.
“Have an enjoyable stay, Ms. Sanford.”
Charisse headed to the room with the bellman in tow. He insisted on carrying her luggage, and she felt silly but decided to go with the tradition.
After she’d tipped him and closed the door, she entered the suite and stopped. What she assumed was a junior suite with a king-size bed and a small sitting room turned out to be a full-size suite with a living room, dining area and kitchenette.
“So this is the difference of a client with deep pockets.” She sank into the couch, putting her feet on the table in front of her.
She admired the room, running her gaze over the paintings and decorative pieces, including the vase of flowers.
“Flowers?” She stood and went to the large bouquet of red roses.
This was definitely not part of the hotel decor. She spied the small square note that was planted in the middle of the floral arrangement.
“Not giving up” was written in Brent’s handwriting.
“Oh, Brent, you have no idea how much I miss you.” She ran her finger over the note, wishing that it was his face instead.
She left the bouquet in place, although she wanted to push it out of sight. The flowers perfumed the air with a lazy, seductive scent. She didn’t want any reminders to pull at her heart.
The phone in the room rang. She stretched for the handset.
“Good morning,” she answered, with a slight questioning tone.
“Ms. Sanford, this is Patricia Clarke, Mr. Fielding’s secretary. We will be meeting in his suite on the fifteenth floor in thirty minutes.”
“What’s the room number?”
“It’s the entire floor. You’ll have to go to the lobby and use the designated elevator.”
Charisse bit back the “Wow.”
After she hung up, she raced into the bedroom. The linens looked crisp and inviting. No time to rest. She wanted to look alert and ready to go.
She’d changed her blouse, but now she felt compelled to wear an entirely new outfit. The very British nasal tone of the secretary motivated her to go traditional. She pulled off the pantsuit and instead grabbed a slim-fitting skirt and white shirt that subtly opened at the neck, where she fitted a single strand of pearls. The sleeves were three-quarter-length with big cuffs.
Instead of wearing her hair down, as she usually did, she pulled it into a ponytail. Gone was the casual American. She was now the international traveler and savvy businesswoman ready to take on her first British client.
Her putzing around ate up the thirty minutes. It was time to go. She followed the secretary’s instructions to the specially reserved elevator.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen an elevator operator. For the ride up the fifteen floors, she pondered whether she had to tip him or not.
The doors opened, and a young woman stepped in and offered her a stiff handshake.
“I’m Charisse.”
“I’m Patricia. This way, please.”
Charisse only felt the soft breeze of the elevator doors closing. They’d stepped into a foyer that led directly into an apartment. There was no way that this large area with high ceilings and rooms at either end of the space could be called a suite. Even without a full tour, she was certain that her entire apartment could fit into the suite, with square footage to spare.
“Mr. Fielding, Charisse has arrived.” The secretary motioned toward a dining table that looked more like a board table.
Her client stood with a warm, welcoming smile.
“Good afternoon,” she said, her voice cracking.
“Charisse, good to see you. You look well considering the long flight.” He pulled out the chair closest to him. “I’ll make the quick introductions. To my right is Dora Steinbaum, she runs the Fashion Forward Agency in New York and Los Angeles. At the head of the table is my second-in-command, Leticia Lumley. And on my left is my secretary.”
“Hello, everyone.” This time Charisse cleared her throat. She didn’t want to come across as weak-sounding, even though she was a tad intimated by the power around the table.
For the next hour, she presented her plan for the chocolate company. Everything that she had learned in a formal setting, tips that she’d picked up from her years of experience and pearls of wisdom from Jake all came together. Her nerves were barely intact, but she drummed up the strength to finish on a high note.
By the time she left that afternoon to head back to her room, Charisse couldn’t help but feel successful. Walking through the hotel lobby in a city where she knew no one, she began to panic. Did she have the stamina to continue working on this project for the next three months?
“Can I give you a penny for your thoughts?”
Charisse’s head snapped up. That voice, smooth and rich, with a strong Bostonian accent, was familiar. Her brain tried to understand that she was actually seeing Brent standing in front of her. Her heart was screaming its love, and her body’s reaction was heated and powerful.
“I’m here, Charisse, for you.” Brent walked over to her.
Charisse pushed the button on the elevator. They rode up in silence. Her motions felt automatic. The adrenaline made her hands shake. They got to her suite.
“I’m not coming in, baby.” Brent stood there looking down at her. His gray-blue eyes swallowed her with love.
“Why?”
“I want more. I’m here to convince you of that. I don’t want to be tempted to simply sleep with you. Charisse, I would never hurt you. I love you and your strong independence.”
Charisse almost cried that he wouldn’t wrap those strong arms around her. She wanted it all. Fear churned her stomach.
Life had no guarantees.
Brent nodded. “I guess I was wrong, again.” He turned to leave.
“Don’t go,” she whispered, her throat dry. “You are my world. It scares me, but it scares me even more not to have you in my life. From the first time that I met you, I knew that I was in trouble. Now I know that it wasn’t a bad thing to run from but a beautiful feeling to embrace.”
Brent remained half turned. He didn’t look at her. She moved to stand directly in front of him. She tiptoed and kissed his mouth. She lingered, craving the touch of his lips.
“Brent Thatcher,” she whispered, “I love you with all my heart.”
Epilogue
Charisse sat on the floor of her office. The room, devoid of furniture and decorations, seemed larger but lacked any oomph. Yet it was the empty canvas that attracted her and helped spin the story of New Vision.
Many ideas had whirled into shape between these walls. Although she had a small staff, they had the enthusiasm and work ethic of a staff of one hundred. They’d all taken their baby steps in full view of each other, falling, tripping, but eventually teetering and balancing with swelling pride.
Brent entered the room and gently engulfed her in his arms. “Would you please come out and join the party?”
“I know, but look at me. I’m a blubbering mess.” Charisse wiped away the tears that spewed as if from a leaky valve.
“It’s not li
ke Tracy and Jo aren’t sobbing their hearts out, either. They’ve even got Vicki grabbing a tissue or two.”
“Maybe we need to change our names to Waterworks and Sobbing.” Charisse turned to face Brent, cupping his face between her hands.
“There I’d have to protest as minority shareholder. New Vision says it all. We’ve merged for the better. I don’t want to ever engulf and erase who you are and who you will become.” His hands rested lightly on her hips.
“And I don’t want you to ever be afraid that I won’t be at your side for the journey. We’re in this together, both here—” she touched his temple with her hand “—and here.” She placed her hand over the right side of his chest.
“For that, I love you.”
“I love you, too. And I love you even more now that you’ve reconciled with Harry.” She kissed his mouth to show her gratitude. “I love you a smidgen more for your lovable mother and sweetheart of a father.” She kissed his mouth again.
“Stop stirring the pot. I’m liable to go from a simmer to a full boil.”
“We can’t have that.”
“No. Oh, and I don’t know if you’ve thought about it, but my place is much closer to the office than yours.”
“One move at a time. Your toothbrush already has its place in my bathroom.”
This time Charisse pulled his head down to meet her eager mouth, now that she’d awakened her lips with his mouth. Their lips melted against each other in full harmony.
Brent covered Charisse’s mouth, taking what she offered and sharing what he had to give. His heart soared with a new freedom. Every minute spent in her company, in her arms, thinking about her released him from all guilt about moving on and opened him to the possibilities of true happiness.
He escorted her back to their combined staff where friends and family celebrated their professional union. Now he was ready to make one more merger.
He waved his hand to quiet the room. From his pocket, he pulled out a small black box.
The group instantly quieted.
Charisse looked at his face and then down to the box. She cupped her mouth but not before he saw the wide grin.
“On your knee, son,” his mom corrected.
Brent complied without hesitation. He wanted this to be right.
“Charisse, we have never been a couple who worked within the lines. But those were the qualities we admired in each other. You’ve awakened me to live in the moment, to forgive, to continue dreaming. All of those things wouldn’t be the same without you by my side. Will you marry me?”
“Yes!” Charisse responded.
The room erupted with cheers. The popping sounds of champagne corks signaled that more celebrating was to be done.
* * * * *
ISBN: 9781459223288
Copyright © 2012 by Michelle Monkou
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If I Had You Page 18