April didn’t know if she was more irritated by his arrogance or his accusation. “You’ve got some cojones marching in here, insinuating that my decision wasn’t based on logic.”
“Listen, April,” he said, sitting in the chair across the desk from her. He leaned forward, “We have some history. I wanted your business, but the water between us is murky.
“To say the least,” she countered, folding her arms across her chest. And for a moment, she shifted back in time to her senior year in high school. All she had ever wanted then was to be this man’s wife. Now all she wanted him to do was to take his over-confident self out of her office and out of her life before he broke her heart again.
“Let me take you to dinner tonight, and let’s just talk through your project. Pretend I’m not the President and CEO of a construction company, but a consultant you hired to make sure that you’re making a thoughtful business decision. You owe me that.”
“No, I don’t,” she said through her teeth. “Selecting the contractor I want over you and canceling meetings that I don’t need to have doesn’t entitle you to a damn thing!”
“Yes—you do, and we both know it,” he said in a tone that she remembered all too well. “Dinner tonight?”
She lifted her chin. “I have plans.”
“Plans can be canceled, obviously,” he countered smoothly. “That’s why your assistant calls you boss lady.”
Her heart beat so hard she could barely catch her breath. She mentally calculated the effects of bowing out of a Board of Directors meeting with the Friends of the Chicago Public Library. The last meeting went five whole hours and she could barely stay awake. The financial director went at it with the marketing people and for three hours nothing major was accomplished. With the agenda she received this morning, those two were up first. That means she could actually entertain the thoughts of having dinner with Lance and still make it in time for the active parts of the meeting. But did she really want to? Her curiosity got the better of her, and she stifled a smile. “All right, Lance. You win.”
“April, done right … we both win.”
The phone on his hip vibrated, and he picked it up and checked its screen. “Listen, this is something I have to take care of. Can I pick you up here at six?”
“Five-thirty is better.” She rose to signal that the conversation was over and to take back her space.
“See you then,” he said. Rising to leave, he swept an admiring gaze across her body. Her tight skirt fell four provocative inches above her knees. The blouse gracefully hugged her curves. “By the way,” he said, “it’s totally unfair that you’re still as fine as you were in high school. How’d you do that?”
Before she could respond, the door closed behind him.
In that moment she realized she owed her ex-husband a huge apology. On her wedding night, she had closed her eyes and wished with all her heart that she was making love for the first time as Mrs. Lance Crayton.
Bill Abbott never had a chance. It unnerved April that a corner of her heart still belonged to a man who didn’t deserve her love.
Chapter 6
The remainder of Lance’s day was a necessary blur. His mind was focused on dinner with April. She had been dressed in a suit that hugged her frame in a way that shouted, “All woman!” Her hair was shoulder length and streaked with golden highlights that caught the light beautifully. On the way to the car, he had searched the Internet and found the most recent accomplishments. The April he once knew had became a force within herself. He was proud and couldn’t wait to tell her exactly that.
Lance showered, shaved, and slipped into a light grey suit, a baby blue open-collared shirt and the most comfortable pair of shoes he owned—black Ferragamo loafers. He’d need comfort tonight. He was certain that April was going to rake him over the coals at some point. Not that he didn’t deserve it.
After he left her office, he had driven straight across the Chicago River to the Langham Hotel and enlisted the help of Enrique, the owner of the exclusive Travelle Restaurant.
Travelle was located on the second floor of the posh hotel and featured Mediterranean cuisine. Lance could tell that April was used to the best, and the Langham represented the brand of opulence she deserved. Actually, she deserved that and more, but he’d start with the place that Sir Winston Churchill, the former Prime Minister of England, had once stayed. Churchill was quoted as saying, “I am easily satisfied with the very best.”
Judging by April’s office, her clientele, and the expensive framed Jacob Lawrence print in her office, “the best” was a major part of her vocabulary.
* * *
He parked in front of the high rise at 910 S. Michigan at exactly 5:25 p.m., in time to see the breathtaking sight of April clearing the glass doors of the building. It dawned on him that she really was the woman in the sexy black dress at the museum, not just a vision. And he was more than ready to drink her all in.
She wore a white curve-hugging dress, over which she wore a short, gauzy bolero top. Her legs looked even longer in gold strappy sandals that were complemented by impeccably polished toenails in the same golden hue. At just under six feet, she would tower like a statuesque goddess over many men. But a woman like April wasn’t for just any man. Only a man who would carve as much out of life as she seemed to be cable of doing. And he had a long way to go to prove to her that the mistakes of the past would not mar the future.
“At your service,” he said, smiling as he moved quickly to the passenger side. He opened the door of the Benz and ensured that his precious cargo was seated comfortably.
“I’m glad you came,” he said, attempting to combat the nervousness in his voice. “At about four o’clock, I worried that you might change your mind.”
She gave him a clever smile. “Frankly, I didn’t have your number, and Suri had left for the day.”
“Ouch.” He was bruised by the remark and took the opportunity to don his wrap-around shades.
“Look, I’m sorry if I’m being unkind,” she said. “But I think at this point we owe one another honesty.”
“I agree,” he said. “I also owe you a fantastic meal. Let’s see how much honesty I can endure.”
“Sure,” came April’s clipped reply.
Lance buckled up for the ride and pulled into traffic.
Chapter 7
Lance made his way to the 52-story skyscraper that housed the Langham Hotel, the prestigious occupier of the first thirteen floors of the iconic structure built by architect Mies van der Rohe. The hotel provided a scenic view of the Chicago River and the surrounding cityscape.
They valet parked, and a petite hostess dressed in a pale pink silk suit—the signature color of the hotel—greeted them warmly and escorted them to the elevators. Enrique met them just beyond the restaurant’s bronze-enhanced glass entrance. “Ah, Mr. Crayton,” he said, extending his hand. “How nice to see you.”
“And you too, my friend,” Lance replied, giving his hand a hearty shake.
“I have just the table for you and the beautiful lady.”
April blushed and silently mouthed, “Thank you.”
Lance supported April’s elbow gently, happy to feel the warmth of her velvety skin against his.
“This is beautiful,” she said as they passed the wine-tasting table and window-framed bar.
“I’m glad you like it.”
They were seated at a table for two near windows that provided an awe-inspiring panoramic view. The beige and cream décor created an aura of calm elegance, while a soft musical backdrop spun a cozy ambiance around them.
April ordered a Truffle Mist martini and Lance ordered two fingers of Jack Daniels—water, no ice. He needed liquid courage to have that much-needed conversation with April tonight.
Travelle’s unique entrées were a delightful surprise. Lance was an expert on Mediterranean cuisine and steered her to the drunken pork and coriander potatoes while selecting the rabbit and ash, white beans with Swiss chard for himself.
Lance was determined to mend fences and to at least become friends again. Drawing courage from the smooth Tennessee whisky, he said, “April, I asked you out to dinner not because Ace is a bad company. I’ve known Bob for ten years. He’s a good contractor, and frankly, he’s a pretty good guy…”
“So what’s the problem?” she asked, looking up.
“What I’m concerned about is the fact that you made the decision without getting my estimate and possibly others’ too.” He took another sip of his drink. “I don’t know whether my numbers would have come in under Ace’s, but I do know that I give my clients value, and quite frankly, I was angry that you didn’t give us a chance.”
April shifted in the seat, leveling a stony gaze at him. “I didn’t feel that I needed to see another estimate after I talked with Bob,” she said. “People do make decisions based on gut feelings and good information. I selected Ace because they are good, and they’re a member of the same associations that you are.” She gave him a quick once-over. “I didn’t even know who you were until you walked through that door. You know you scared the hell out of Suri,” she said, unable to stifle the smile that lit up her dark brown almond-shaped eyes.
“I did?” he asked, giving her a full-lipped grin.
“She was about to call security.”
They both laughed.
“I guess I came on pretty strong,” he reluctantly conceded. “But when a client meeting gets canceled so many times, it’s my business to find out why. I’m responsible for people’s paychecks. So, I take that seriously.
“As well you should,” she responded, lifting her glass. “This is really good.”
“Look, it’s your decision,” he said, realizing she was making an attempt to change the subject. “I’m not going to second guess you. I’m not that arrogant “Cray-baby” Crayton guy anymore. You’re accomplished and certainly able to make wise decisions. You’ve obviously come a long way,” he said, with an appreciative glance at the entire gorgeous package. “So what do you say I serve as an advisor on your project?”
“Don’t you have other projects?” she snapped, placing the glass on the table. “Seriously, I’ve already awarded the bid to Ace.”
“You’re not listening, sweetheart,” he said in the most patient tone he could muster. “I’m not asking for the job, April. My business has never been better,” Lance said proudly, and hoped it didn’t translate into sounding arrogant. “I sense that this home is special to you. I’d like to help you make it everything you want.” He then added, “Do you really think you could manage your home construction better than me?”
Lance reached his hand across the table and covered hers. He looked down at the sapphire and diamond encrusted cocktail ring on her middle finger. “I can’t say that I completely know you, but I know a lot about you—”
“Like what?” she shot back, pursing her lips like a disapproving librarian.
Lance took that in. “I remember the time you tried to streak your hair and ended up with bright orange patches,” he said, grinning.
April’s placid look transformed into a warm smile that lit up her entire face. “Oh, my God. You remember that?”
“I remember telling you orange was my favorite color to stop you from crying.”
“It wasn’t your favorite color?”
“Not even close,” he said, grinning.
April couldn’t help the smile that tilted the corners of her lips. “That was you at the gallery a week ago.”
Lance leaned back in the chair and grinned. “I thought that was you. Knew it for sure when you walked out of the building tonight, looking nothing short of spectacular.”
Her eyelids fluttered to a close, hiding whatever emotion was in her eyes. “You love Jacob Lawrence, too?”
He nodded. “What’s so intriguing is that he was more than an artist, he was a planner.”
April’s head tilted, asking a silent question that he answered with, “He painted all sixty paintings in this collection with exactly the same hues. That meant he had to have all the paintings sketched out when he began mixing his paints. Artistry and proper forethought yielded such dynamic results.”
Fingering the elegant ring under his palm he said, “Let me help you, April.”
She extracted her hand from under his. “Give me a day to think it over.”
“Done.”
They ate and chatted throughout the rest of the meal, each sharing a little about themselves and a little more on their shared love for the famous artist, and stopping only when Enrique came by to check on them.
April declined dessert, but when Lance said, “Live a little. I’ll eat half,” she narrowed a gaze at him. It was reminder of what he used to say to her during lunch hours at school. “We’ll take the pistachio cake,” she said.
“Excellent choice,” Enrique replied, then he added, “Would you care to have dessert in the lounge? I can seat you down front.”
“Front row. I’m impressed.” April smiled at Lance.
“Finally, I did something right.”
They moved to a cozy area that featured a thirty-foot digital artwork display along one wall. The area was filled with chairs upholstered in soft beige leather and trimmed in ebony. The view of the skyline was impressive from their vantage point.
The Monday night crowd was light, which made the room semi-private for the seven or eight couples seated at the small round tables around the stage. Six feet away, a musician played soft jazz-inspired music on keyboards.
“How about a Cabernet Sauvignon,” Enrique suggested.
“Looks like I’m about to exceed my two-drink maximum,” she said, before Enrique walked away.
For a moment she hesitated. Then she said, “I know what I want Lance. I … want my home to be my refuge. I want to be a community member. I want … I haven’t even had time to think about having a family.”
As if on cue, Enrique placed their drinks before them. Lance raised his glass. Smiling, he said, “To fulfilled desires.”
As they enjoyed the music, they shared casual touches—nothing that alarmed her, but something that brought them closer to comfortable. She touched his leg to point out an odd character entering the lounge. He whispered his response into her ear. The distance between their bodies narrowed.
That night they left Travelle not quite friends, but certainly not enemies.
Chapter 8
April was slightly tipsy sitting beside Lance as he skillfully navigated the unusually heavy nighttime traffic. After a text update from one of the women at the board meeting, all thoughts of making it there for the final round of the featherweight fight she’d predicated swept out of her mind. She relaxed into the passenger seat but became a little alarmed when he whizzed by her office and kept heading south.
“Hey, bus driver, you just passed my stop.”
“I know,” he said, glancing over to her for a moment before putting his eyes back on the road. “How about taking a ride with me? When was the last time you hung out on the South Side?”
“Not lately.”
He nodded. “Remember how we used to hang out behind the South Shore Country Club?”
“Don’t they call it the Cultural Center now?” she asked, frowning.
“Yep, they do. I was a subcontractor on the renovations.”
She smiled, realizing Lance had grown far beyond the boy she knew in high school. Like her, he had really come into his own. “Nice. Were you pleased?”
“Most definitely,” he replied, staring out into the night as they passed Promontory Point and Jackson Park Harbor. “It was a huge project, but we came in on time and on budget. And I think the community benefited from the upgrades.” His gaze shifted to the horizon as he said, “Sometimes for peace I just like to cruise the lakefront.”
“Well, it’s Monday, Mr. Crayton, and I need to get up at five to run but,” she hesitated, “I do love the lake.”
Lance pushed the gas and picked up speed, rolling down the win
dows. The breeze caressed April’s face and tousled her shoulder-length hair. She held it down with one of her hands and closed her eyes as they rode into the summer night.
He pulled off Lake Shore Drive and drove down South Shore Drive for several blocks before making a left inside the long driveway of the South Shore Cultural Center. He whipped toward the main entrance, driving past its circular floral garden and the deep pink façade of the building that had been rehabbed nearly a decade ago by the Chicago Park District. He made a quick left, driving past the first parking lot that was typically the favorite lot for golfers due to its proximity to the golf pro shop, and parked in the lot nearest the beach.
* * *
As April strolled along the beach next to Lance, she revisited the day that she happened upon Lance and Charlotte in the school’s hallway. When she had fully recovered, she enrolled in Michigan State and went full throttle – putting every ounce of her energy into studying. She’d graduated in four years with a perfect 4.0. Through every victory, she cursed Lance for not being there to celebrate with her. And through every setback—though there were few—she cursed him for not caring about the hell her life was without him. She had loved him then, and truth be told, she still felt something for him even to this day.
In April’s mind, Lance had received his basketball scholarship to UCLA, moved to California, and lived a charmed life with the pretty, big-legged cheerleader. Perhaps it wasn’t as charmed as she had imagined because she sensed that he was still searching for something.
The classy evening, multiple cocktails, and thoughts of back-in-the-day made April realize that she had forgiven Lance’s betrayal in her head, but not in her heart. This entire night screamed seduction and she had to admit it was becoming easier to appreciate the Lance Crayton she’d been with tonight. But she could not afford to be wounded again. Not by him; not by anyone.
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