After That Night

by Ann Evans

  Her father walked past the table and ruffled his grandson’s hair. “Besides, you and J.D. have to take care of the womenfolk.”

  Petey looked up at him as though his grandfather was getting senile. “There’s only Mom.”

  “Yeah, but she’s more contrary than half-a-dozen women,” William McNab said as he ventured into the kitchen.

  “Very funny,” Jenna sniffed. She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, then pointed a warning finger in her father’s direction. “Don’t bring back any fish for me to clean. You catch ’em, you clean ’em.”

  Her father looked affronted. “We’re going to work, not fish. We’ll be slaving round the clock.”

  “Uh-huh. Then how come I’m packing beer and you’ve already stowed your fishing tackle?”

  The phone rang, and while her father answered it, Jenna flew upstairs to take a quick shower. By the time she finished doing her makeup and hair, she was down to thirty minutes left before the party. Hurriedly she pulled the sleeveless, black-beaded cocktail dress out of its protective bag, stepped into it and looked at herself in the mirror.

  From the front, the halter-style standup collar flattered her neck and made her look taller. The dress was tight, but slimming, and she certainly didn’t look pregnant. But as soon as she turned… What had she been thinking? She’d been in a hurry at the shop, but surely she should have realized that the back of the dress, with its keyhole opening cut down to her waist, was more daring than anything she’d ever worn.

  Well, it was too late to change things. Vic had wanted elegant, professional and sexy, and she was going to get it. Now all Jenna had to do was carry it off. Slipping on her heels, she straightened her shoulders and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Too broad and fake, she told herself and took the grin down a notch.

  She went back to the living room, where the last of the supplies covered the couch and the men were discussing what time they should leave in the morning.

  “Wow,” Christopher said as she walked past him.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jenna replied as she bent over the duffel bag to tuck her father’s extra pair of glasses into a safer compartment.

  “Hey, someone stole the back of your dress,” Trent teased.

  She rose and gave her brother a warning glance. “Don’t start with me.” She caught her father frowning at her. “You, either, Dad. What I’m wearing is not up for discussion.”

  “Never mind what you’re wearing,” her father said. “Who’s Kathy Bigelow?”

  Uh-oh. She’d rather have gotten into an argument about her dress. But buying a place of her own? She wasn’t ready yet for that discussion. But here it was before her and no way out.

  “She’s my real-estate agent.”

  Trent and Christopher went still and stared at her.

  Her father looked stunned. “Your real-estate agent? What do you need a real-estate agent for?”

  “We’ve discussed this, Dad,” Jenna said warily. “Was that Kathy on the phone?”

  He nodded. “She wanted to know what you thought of the Victorian. I take it you’re looking at houses to buy. We have most certainly not discussed that.”

  “You’re still thinking of moving out?” Trent asked.

  Christopher shook his head. “Jen, that’s crazy—”

  “Whoa! Stop,” Jenna said, holding up her hand. “We are not going to get into an argument over this now. I don’t have the time, and neither do you. Especially since I’ve made up my mind.”

  “Then I think you should consider unmaking it,” her father said tightly. “There is absolutely no reason for you to move out of this house. The boys are happy here. I like having you around. Why do you want to mess with that?”

  Jenna tossed a quick glance toward the dining room. Petey and J.D. weren’t showing any interest in their conversation. “Dad,” she said in a low voice, “you know perfectly well why I want my own place. I need my independence again. The boys need to feel as though they have a home of their own, that they belong somewhere. That they’re not just visitors there.”

  Her father made a face. “For pity’s sake,” he grumbled. “They’re my own flesh and blood. How can they be considered visitors?”

  “Stop being obtuse. You know what I mean.”

  “I won’t have it. The answer is no. You are not moving out.”

  Christopher winced. Trent stared at his father, open-mouthed. Even they knew he’d overstepped. Jenna tried not to let anger take over. She went to him, gave him a quick hug and planted a kiss on his cheek.

  “I love you, Dad,” she said softly, “and I don’t want to hurt you. But this isn’t your decision, it’s mine. And it is going to happen.”

  William McNab stood stock-still for a long moment. She sensed some kind of chain reaction taking place in the older man’s mind. He looked as if he’d swallowed broken glass.

  Finally he moved away to sling one of the duffel bags over his shoulder. “You do what you want,” he said to her. Then he turned toward her brothers. “Boys, let’s finish loading the truck.”

  THE PARTY WAS being held at one of Atlanta’s oldest, grandest and most lavish residences. A lovely, sad relic of days gone by, Misthaven had once been a Georgian-style plantation surrounded by magnolias, peach trees and mossy, towering oaks.

  But then progress had come along.

  Now it was the centerpiece of the Misthaven Country Club. All those lovely trees had become thirty-six holes of championship golf, and the only place to sit and sip mint juleps on a summer day was on the patio overlooking the tennis courts.

  Victoria, Lauren and Jenna entered the ballroom, and Jenna immediately realized that Vic hadn’t been kidding. Avery Lundquist did have money. All the stops had been pulled out tonight to make Misthaven look and feel even more special than it was. There were flowers and champagne fountains everywhere. Waiters circled the room, offering appetizers that looked more like works of art than food. At one end of the room, a full orchestra enticed couples onto a parquet dance floor.

  One unexpected touch made both Lauren and Jenna do a double take. Several couples in costume passed them— Cleopatra and Marc Anthony, Romeo and Juliet, even Lucy and Ricky Ricardo.

  Lauren leaned toward Vic. “What’s with the costumes?”

  Vic held up the invitation she’d shown the doorman. “The theme tonight is ‘Lovers Throughout History.’ Avery plans to do a retro line for couples who want something a little unusual for their weddings.” She squinted toward a couple in medieval dress. “Is that Guinevere with Lancelot? Or Arthur?”

  Avery Lundquist met them near the door. He was obviously quite taken with Vic. After catching her up in a hug that crushed the red satin of her dress, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her.

  Jenna and Lauren were introduced to him, then largely ignored. They stepped farther into the room. Lauren snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, then handed one to Jenna. “I’m going to need a lot more of these before the night is over,” she said, her eyes flitting around the room.

  Jenna watched Avery Lundquist laugh at something Vic had said. He was a handsome man, but didn’t seem to be Vic’s type. “I think Vic only wanted us to come so she wouldn’t have to face Lundquist alone. Should we try to save her, do you think?”

  “I say let her stew in her own juice,” Lauren said. She tipped her head toward the champagne glass in Jenna’s hand. “Drink up. It could be a long night.”

  Jenna made a face and placed the champagne on a nearby table. Now that she was pregnant, alcohol was definitely out. “I’m not in the mood,” she said. “I hate these things. You and Vic are so much better at them than I am.”

  “You’ll do fine,” Lauren remarked as she glanced around. “No, in that dress, you’ll do better than fine. Set your sights on one of these guys, Jen. There are a lot of possibilities here tonight, and we should both explore them.”

  “Still holding Brad off, I take it?”

  Lauren shrugged. �
��Just giving our relationship a rest. Now let’s see, which one of these prominent Atlantans needs to meet you?”

  Together they surveyed the room. Lauren was right. A lot of Atlanta’s finest were here tonight. The mayor and his cronies. Local politicians were circling like hawks, shaking hands and telling jokes to make any possible constituents feel welcome. Bankers. The press. Avery Lundquist had certainly done his homework on the guest list.

  “I don’t need to be fixed up. I’m perfectly capable of finding someone on my own.” She scowled. That didn’t come out right. “Not that I’m looking.”

  “Your judgment is suspect,” Lauren said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That was a bit of a surprise, seeing Mark Bishop at your family’s picnic. I didn’t realize he was in town.” She hadn’t been looking at Jenna, but now she turned and looked her in the eye. “You didn’t tell me you two were dating.”

  “We’re not. I mean, we’re just…friends.”

  “You might want to look that word up in the dictionary. Friends usually don’t sleep together, and not when they’ve known each other less than twenty-four hours.”

  Jenna shrugged a little, wondering what Lauren would have to say if she knew what those few hours had resulted in. “You’re the one who told me I needed to be more adventuresome. That I needed to have more fun.”

  Her friend frowned. “Yeah, but since when did you start taking my advice?”

  The orchestra began playing a waltz. Several couples stepped out onto the dance floor, including Vic and Avery Lundquist. The smile Vic gave Jenna and Lauren seemed genuine. As a couple, they looked good together.

  In a flash of jeweled color, an attractive blonde in blue-striped satin went by on the arm of a tuxedo-clad man. Her head was thrown back, and she laughed as he whispered something close to her ear.

  Jenna drew a sharp breath, unable to smother a gasp of surprise. “Oh, my God!”

  “What’s the matter?” Lauren asked, then seeing the direction of Jenna’s gaze, she made a small sound of approval. “Oh, my,” she observed. She squinted to take a closer look. “Wait a minute. Isn’t that…?”

  It certainly was, though Jenna was too stunned to answer. The man wheeling the good-looking blonde around the dance floor was Mark Bishop.

  Silly, she thought. That little jolt of resentment at seeing the blonde in Mark’s arms had no business interfering with the beat of her heart. He certainly had a right to do as he pleased, and since she’d turned him down, who could blame him for seeking female companionship elsewhere? Or had this been where he’d intended to take her?

  She frowned, trying to remember the conversation, then determinedly putting it out of her head. It didn’t matter. He was here and so was she, but not together. No jealousy. Just a little discomfort.

  “Who’s that brassy blonde he’s dancing with?” Lauren asked. “And do you think he knows you’re here?”

  Jenna shook her head to indicate she had no idea. Lauren was just being catty—the woman wasn’t brassy. She might be on the far side of thirty, but with that bone structure and reed-thin body, she was beautiful. Paired with Mark, who looked so tall and elegant in that tuxedo, they made a striking couple.

  She saw with knee-weakening relief that Mark had twirled her toward the far end of the dance floor. Maybe it was inevitable that their paths would cross before the night was over, but not right now. Not while she could feel color still creeping up her exposed neck.

  Fresh air, that was what she needed. Not too far away were double doors that led to the patio. She was through them before Lauren even noticed she’d left her side.

  MARK PINNED Catherine Mevane with his gaze as he steered her safely away from a couple struggling to make their waltzing look effortless. “What do you say, Cath? You know you owe me one.”

  “For your help with the Doolittle merger?” she asked with an easy smile. “I’ve more than evened the score for that little nugget.”

  “Then do it because I’m asking you to. For old times’ sake.”

  She lifted a speculative brow, clearly wondering why he found this favor so important that he was willing to trade on their past relationship. They’d been business associates and lovers once, but that had been a long time ago.

  “Are you in love with her?” Catherine asked.

  “Hell, no!” Mark replied. Then he added indignantly, “And what kind of question is that? She’s married.”

  Catherine shrugged. “I have no reason to think that would stop you.”

  “I never mess around with the women who work for me. Bad business. Besides, Deb’s crazy in love with her husband.”

  But he thought of how depressed Deb had sounded when he’d called the Orlando office this morning. So down in the dumps that he’d been leery of asking what was wrong. Eventually she’d told him. Alan’s interview with one of the big contractors—his best hope for employment—had gone badly. The job had already been filled.

  Mark had done his best to offer encouragement, saying things he wasn’t very good at and recognizing that Deb didn’t believe a word of it. But when he’d come to this party tonight, he’d spotted Catherine right away and realized that maybe she could help. Catherine Mevane owned a nationwide chain of copy centers based in Orlando, and Alan Goodson’s talents could be just what she needed.

  “Are you sure he’s good?” she asked as he swung her into a wide turn.

  “I talked to his former boss. Checked out his résumé. He’s tops in his field, but the company just filed Chapter Thirteen with the courts to reorganize their debts.”

  “Then why don’t you find a spot for him?”

  “I can’t hire him. Deb would see it as charity and eat me alive.”

  “So what do you want me to do, exactly?”

  “All I’m asking is that you have the head of your I.T. department call him in for an interview. Alan’s sharp. He’ll sell himself. If he fills the bill, hire him.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s it. I don’t have any ulterior motive here, Cath. An interview for the guy, that’s all I’m asking. You look at me like I’m trying to sell you swampland in Florida.”

  She laughed, more than the comment was worth, and he noticed that her eyes were shining. The smile she gave him was poignant and tinged with regret. “You know, it’s a very good thing I’m so in love with my husband. If you’d have been this sweet when we were dating, I’d have done anything you wanted.”

  He frowned, recognizing the need to keep the conversation away from the past they’d shared. “Deb’s the best assistant I’ve ever had. Until her husband’s career gets back on track, she’ll find it difficult to give me one hundred percent at the office. It’s not being sweet. It’s being practical.”

  “Ah. Practical,” she said with a tight nod. “I should have known.” She tilted her head at him questioningly. “Tell me something, Mark.”

  “Whatever you want, Cath.”

  “Four years ago we couldn’t make a go of our relationship because you didn’t want someone who would make demands on you emotionally. You told me you came stag tonight. Does that mean you’re still holding out for the impossible?”

  “It’s not impossible,” he answered matter-of-factly. “Difficult, maybe.”

  She shook her head and grinned. “How can such a smart guy be so dumb?”

  “Aren’t you glad you didn’t marry me?” he countered. “Think how frustrated you’d be by now.”

  Before she could respond, the waltz ended. Catherine’s husband was suddenly there to whisk her away. Watching the two of them, it was clear they were nuts about each other.

  Mark left the dance floor. He scanned the room. What was he doing here? Being with Jenna might have made it bearable, even fun, but alone he felt emotionally isolated. People were here to be fawned over and wooed. To see and be seen. He’d been to so many of these functions in the past that they couldn’t hold his interest for long.

  He thought
suddenly of the McNab party in the park. Laughter that had not been forced or faked. The breeze that drifted through the trees, bearing the scents of wild-flowers and freshly cut grass. How quiet and peaceful the park had seemed at the end of the day when he’d stood beside Jenna at her car. He’d come so close to kissing her….

  The band played a few quick notes to grab the guests’ attention. Taking the stage, Avery Lundquist welcomed everyone and thanked them for coming. In a few minutes he launched into a speech that was heavily self-promoting, and the captive audience stirred restlessly.

  God, I don’t need to hear this. Mark pushed his way through the crowd. He escaped out one of the side doors into night air that felt crisp and reviving.

  He had hoped to be alone, but he saw right away that he wasn’t. Somewhat hidden in shadow, a woman stood leaning against one of the white columns.

  Her short, black dress was cut very low in the back, revealing a slim, straight spine. There was something oddly familiar about it. And that graceful neck.

  His gaze rested there, and then his breath caught. A small sound, but she must have heard it, because she turned her head in his direction.

  He finally found his tongue. “Jenna?”

  There was a small silence as they looked at each other. Her eyes flickered with a moment of uncertainty. Soft light issuing from the ballroom lay in yellow slabs across the stone patio, and Mark stepped through them to reach her side. “My God,” he said when he stood in front of her. “It is you. You look beautiful.”

  He meant it. Angled moonlight lifted honey tones from her hair. The black dress exposed a tempting amount of creamy skin, and since she couldn’t have been wearing a bra under it, he wondered if some wire construction in the bodice was responsible for lifting her bosom. It would be nice to find out.

  Don’t even think it, he warned himself.

  Stray compliments clearly embarrassed her. Even in the shadows he saw her blush. “Thank you. I don’t generally come to these things, but Vic insisted, since Avery is a new advertiser for the magazine.” She motioned at Mark’s tuxedo. “You look very handsome yourself. What are you doing here?”