“We’ll have to do something about that. Your turn.”
“Bachelor’s in liberal arts from the University of Cincinnati.”
“Liberal arts? I should have guessed.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Evening stroll in front of the hospital. Camera hung around your neck. The books in your bookcase.” He gave her a sideways glance. “So before moving here, you were what, flipping burgers at McDonald’s?”
She wanted to be offended, but his playful tone and the teasing glint in his eye refused to let her.
“I’ll have you know I earned a legitimate and complicated degree.”
“Of course you did.”
“Really. I have three certifications.”
“Wow me.”
“Creative writing, historical preservation, and film and media studies.”
“I’m impressed. And you do what with all that?”
She hesitated. The degree might be impressive, but her job history wasn’t.
“Are you in the FBI?”
Her face softened as she gave a small laugh. “No.”
“Then why so secretive?”
“It’s just that I haven’t found my place in the world yet. So there’s nothing much to tell.”
“Unless you’re a trust fund baby, you must have been doing something for the past . . . when did you graduate?”
“In April.”
Brett’s eyes darted at her then back to the road. “This past April?”
“Surprised?”
“Just didn’t realize . . .” His voice trailed off as he maneuvered into a tight parking lot. He found a space, parked, then half-turned toward her. “How many years did it take for you to get that complicated degree?”
“Five. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
And estimating her age. She knew it as surely as if he had a calculator emblazoned on his forehead.
“So after graduation, you moved here?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what exactly?”
She’d known since last night that eventually he’d ask the question. And if he didn’t, either his cousin or the fiancée would. All she could do was stick to the truth. At least until she couldn’t.
“For my senior thesis, I produced a short film that aired on the Cincinnati PBS station. During my last year, they hired me part-time. After graduation, I was promoted to assistant producer.”
“That’s impressive.”
“Not really. The actual day-to-day tasks weren’t as exciting as my title suggested.”
“So why aren’t you still assistant producing?” He grinned mischievously. “Did you embezzle from petty cash? Run off with the station manager?”
Her lips parted in a small smile at his allusion to Casablanca. “Nothing like that.”
“What then?”
Truth faltered, unable to withstand the weight of her secret.
“Victim of budget cuts,” she said offhandedly. Her stepfather had been told the same lie in the vain hope he’d offer sympathy. Maybe even encouragement.
“After only a few months? That sounds odd.”
“Yet true. If something doesn’t turn up soon, I may be begging to flip hamburgers.”
“Why move to Columbus?”
“I needed a change. Besides, I have an interview on Monday.”
“Where?”
“At a bank. They need someone to help with social media marketing.” She curled her lip. “Better than flipping hamburgers, right?”
“I’m not sure.” He seemed to study her, his eyes appraising her own. “I have a hard time picturing you stuck behind a desk.”
She shrugged and faced the windshield. The rain had lessened, but the sun’s radiance was diffused by heavy gray clouds.
“You okay?”
Her throat caught, and she swallowed before answering. “Fine.”
“Tell you what.” He rested his palm on the back of her hand. Her first instinct was to pull away, but his comforting warmth seemed to soothe her seesawing emotions. “Let’s declare this a forget-our-troubles day. No worries.”
She gazed at him, allowing herself to get momentarily lost in the depth of his gorgeous eyes. “Do you have worries?”
In the space of a heartbeat, a cloud weakened his smile. “You’d be surprised.”
“Tell me.”
Pressing his lips together, he slightly shook his head. “If I did, you wouldn’t want to spend the day with me.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It is.”
“Something to do with last night’s hospital vigil?”
“Long story.”
“We’ve got all day.”
Sadness lessened the light in his eyes. Suddenly she wanted to chase the gloom away, to soothe whatever pain gripped his heart. Without realizing it, she twisted her hand so their palms met.
He smiled, then gestured toward the restaurant. “I’m starving. Shall we go in?”
“Okay.”
“The umbrella’s beneath your seat.”
“You aren’t afraid of a little rain, are you?” she teased as she retrieved it. “Afraid you’ll melt?”
“Afraid you will.” He clicked open his door. “Stay there.”
Always the gentleman. Opening her door, holding the umbrella as they hurried to the restaurant.
She could get used to being treated with such unfamiliar gallantry. But even if she could forgive him for what he’d said, he’d never consider someone like her for a serious relationship.
After they ordered a fruit sampler and omelets, Brett handed the menus to the waiter. Across the wooden table, Dani seemed to have retreated into a place he couldn’t go. She was an enigma, this liberal-arts-grad/assistant-producer. Despite her quiet demeanor, he sensed a tornado spun within, whipping her mood from playful to sad to distant.
“I might be able to help with your job search. That is, if you’d rather forget the whole bank thing. I have a lot of connections.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“Is your résumé up-to-date?”
“Mostly. I planned to work on it today.”
“It’s my fault you’re not getting it done. All the more reason for me to help.”
“I appreciate it, but I doubt you can.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve already been to the stations around here, both TV and radio. The only openings are for sales. If I wanted to do that, I’d be in Boise. I have a friend at a radio station there who told me about an opening.”
Brett refrained from asking her why she hadn’t checked out the local stations before she moved. The girl obviously had secrets, and he was intrigued by whatever she was hiding. But pressuring her wouldn’t be as much fun as showing his so-called sensitive side. Women always told more than they intended when he used the subtle approach.
His practiced smile appeared, and he started to reach for her hand but picked up his water glass instead. The ice water cooled his throat as he berated himself. Whatever Dani’s secrets, she wasn’t his latest plaything. No more manipulation. No more insincerity.
He set down the glass and caught her gaze. “Sales can be tough, but you’ve got the necessary qualifications.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re young. Intelligent. Cute.” He winked, unexpectedly enjoying the innocent rush of teasing her. “That’ll get you in the door.”
“That’s nice of you to say, but I’m not sure how true it is.”
“It’s true,” he assured her. “Then you just need to learn the secrets of closing.”
“You know the secrets?”
“Of course.”
“I thought you were in property development or investing. Something like that.”
“But sales is part of what I do. I have to convince people to trust me with their money.”
“I get the feeling you’re really good at that.”
“The company’s growing, so I guess I am.”
&nb
sp; “It must be nice to have found your niche. To not have to worry about finances or how to pay for things or . . .” Her voice faded, and she stared at her hands.
“I enjoy what I do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t work hard. A land development deal is like a moving puzzle, and sometimes that puzzle has missing pieces. I have to gather them all together and put them in the right places.”
“What if you don’t?”
“Fortunately, that rarely happens. But when it does, I cut my losses, evaluate what went wrong, and then I don’t make that same mistake again.”
“You’re very self-confident, aren’t you?”
“I have to be. Who’s going to believe in me if I don’t believe in myself?”
“I guess that’s one way to approach the world.”
“It’s worked so far.” He picked up his phone and rotated it against the table. “Sully would be proud.”
“Who’s Sully?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know.
“My grandfather. Anderson John Sullivan II.”
“The Second? Not Junior?”
“Oh no. Definitely not a junior.” Brett pretended to make a face. “Apparently, Anderson the First had high hopes his son and all the sons to come after would create a lasting legacy.”
“A profitable business?”
“More than that.” Brett frowned, not sure he wanted to delve much further into family history. Though what could it hurt? It wasn’t like Dani was trying to surreptitiously ferret out any confidential information.
“Sully founded Sullivan Investments after he returned from the Korean War. Grew it almost single-handedly into his own little empire. I’ve worked there since I was a teen. And when he died, I inherited the company.”
“He must have had a lot of faith in you.”
“I suppose. Though he wouldn’t have liked me changing the name.”
“Then why did you?”
“I’m not a Sullivan. Plus, I wanted to put my own stamp on the company. Get a fresh start.”
“But it’s not really a fresh start if you’re handed the whole kit and caboodle.”
“I suppose not.”
“So after a couple of generations, you ended your grandfather’s legacy.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Besides, the name lives on. AJ is the fourth Anderson John.”
If Sully hadn’t sent Meghan away, she probably would have married AJ. He rotated his phone. And Jonah would have been the next bearer of the family name.
“What is it?”
He shook his head. This wasn’t the time to be thinking of Jonah.
“I’m very aware that being born into my family has its benefits,” he said. “I don’t apologize for that.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“Why do I feel you don’t approve?”
“It seems odd that your grandfather left the entire company to you. What about your sister and your cousin?”
“Amy got money. AJ inherited Misty Willow.”
“Must be nice.” Tension edged her voice, and she bit at her lip. Obviously she regretted the snide comment as soon as she said it, but she lacked the poise to gloss over the awkwardness.
He placed the phone next to his plate with a slight thud. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you?”
“I never said that.”
“You’re looking down your nose at me because my grandparents left me a fortune.”
“That’s not true.”
“Most people don’t think so, but snobbery is a two-way street.”
“You’re calling me a snob?”
“I am.” He tried to keep his tone light, teasing. But truth be told, he didn’t like how she made him feel. As if his success had nothing to do with him.
But what could you expect from a liberal arts grad?
– 9 –
The waiter appeared with two piping hot plates. Dani eyed the cheesy golden eggs and inhaled the spicy warmth of mushrooms, ham, and peppers. “Looks delicious.”
“Best ever,” Brett said.
She took a bite and nodded. “You’re right.”
“When it comes to food, you can always trust me to tell you the truth.”
“Does that mean I can’t trust you about anything else?” She hoped he didn’t detect the hardness lying beneath her teasing tone.
“That depends on what we’re talking about,” he said with exaggerated mystery.
“How about Misty Willow? You said your cousin inherited it, but I thought it belonged to his fiancée.”
“He did and it does.” Brett flashed his dimples. “Shelby’s ancestors settled the land, but Sully acquired it several years ago. He left it to AJ, who sold it to Shelby. Before they were engaged.”
“‘Acquired’?”
“You picked up on that, did you?” He waved his fork in her direction before spearing a melon cube from the fruit sampler. “It’s not a very flattering story.”
“Now I’m even more curious.”
“No one’s really sure what happened. All those involved in the . . . transaction . . . have died.” He hesitated, seemingly lost in thought. Or perhaps considering how much family history he wanted to tell her.
Dani sat quietly, a technique she’d learned when interviewing sources for her thesis project. Give people silence, and they’d find the words to fill it. And sometimes they filled it with words they didn’t mean to say.
“Sully cheated Shelby’s grandparents.”
“How?”
“Like I said, no one’s really sure.”
“Your grandfather doesn’t sound like a very nice man.”
“It’s true he had his faults. But he had a few good qualities too.” One corner of his mouth turned up in a tight smile. “Besides, it all worked out. Shelby returned to claim the old homestead and got herself a husband.”
“You make it sound so romantic.”
“Romance is overrated. Though you’re probably not old enough to believe that.” He chuckled, seeming to visibly relax as he deftly steered the conversation away from his family. “Have you actually read all those books you’ve got?”
“Of course.”
“How many times have you read The Secret Garden?”
“Several. Why?”
“I saw the inscription. Does your family still live in Cincinnati?”
The unexpected question sucked air from Dani’s lungs. She sipped her water and forced her body to relax. He read Mom’s inscription. Words written by the person he blamed for his parents’ deaths.
“My father does.” A half-truth. The man may have been her mom’s husband, but he’d never been her father. At least not after Mom died.
“What does he think of your move?”
“I haven’t told him.”
“Why not?”
Dani paused, considering how to answer. If she told Brett the truth—that she’d spent more time in foster homes than with her stepdad or that she’d practically been on her own since she was seventeen—he’d only ask more questions.
“We seldom talk.”
“What about your mom?” Puzzlement narrowed his eyes. “The inscription she wrote was really nice. Meaningful. Aren’t you close?”
Dani scooched a bit of tomato around her plate with a fork. Everything within her wanted to lash out at Brett for saying something nice about the woman he’d publicly maligned. But to do so would ruin everything. Though she still wasn’t sure what she hoped to gain by her deceit.
Information? Revenge? An explanation for all the unanswered questions that haunted her dreams? A reason why her childhood had been tragically ruined on one thunder-filled night?
“The Secret Garden was the last book she gave me. Before she died.”
The sympathy in his eyes almost did her in. She pushed a sliver of mushroom beneath the leftover egg and pressed the fork against the table.
“I’m sorry.”
Afraid to trust her voice, she merely nodded.
“I mean it, Dani.” He gra
sped her hand, then twined her fingers with his. “I lost my parents when I was a teen. I know how much it hurts.”
She stared at their hands, acutely aware that another land mine had almost blown up in front of her. As far as Brett knew, she was a stranger with no knowledge of his parents’ deaths. Yet she had never asked about them, not even when they were talking about his family tree. Apparently he wasn’t suspicious of her lack of curiosity.
Though hesitant to do so, she met his gaze. Grief, buried but never forgotten, tightened the muscles around his eyes. She recognized the pain—how often had she fought against it when sorrow threatened to surface?
“I’m sorry too,” she said quietly. Surprisingly, she meant it.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, and Dani’s pulse quickened. How easy it would be to give in to this man’s charm. She should let go of his fingers, say something to break the spell. But she didn’t.
The waiter neared to take their plates, and Brett let go of her hand. “We said a trouble-free day, remember?”
“So we did.”
“Are you ready to go?”
“I guess so.” Her voice was steadier than she would have thought possible. “Still a little nervous about meeting your family, though.”
“Don’t be nervous yet. We need to stop by my apartment first.”
“Why?”
“You’ve got your formal duds, but I don’t have mine.” He placed a few bills on the table and stood. “Coming?”
“Do I have a choice?”
He grabbed her hand as she rose from her seat and tucked her arm into his. “What do you think?”
Grateful for how he’d lightened the mood and flattered by his teasing gallantry, she let him escort her from the restaurant. But as he closed the car door and sprinted around to the driver’s side, his question echoed.
I think that if I’m not careful, I’m going to fall under his spell. But I can’t, oh I can’t. Not when he’s caused so much pain.
Dani entered the foyer of Brett’s apartment, then stopped. A plush sea of creamy carpet spread before her. She glanced at her rain-splattered shoes.
“Guess I should take these off.”
“The housekeeper would probably appreciate it.” He knelt and lifted her foot. “Allow me.”
“You don’t need to—”
“Wouldn’t want you to dirty your hands.”
When Love Arrives Page 6