by Julie Cannon
did not dampen her interest one little bit. If anything, Lauren found it refreshing; at least one person in this room wasn’t being phony.
Ignoring the call of duty, she said, “I like your name. It seems to suit you.” My God, why did I say that? I don’t even know this woman. She couldn’t care less whether you like her name or not.
Elliott didn’t appear to be put off by her inane comment. With a note of mock exasperation, she said, “Thank you. It was my turn to carry on the family tradition. As I’ve gotten older I’ve come to appreciate it, but there were those times, when I was growing up, that it was a pain in the ass.”
Lauren smiled. “I would not have picked you for a traditionalist.” Another rash assumption. She wondered what had possessed her to make such a personal comment. It wasn’t her usual style.
She felt the heat of Elliott’s eyes burn a trail across her body. Even encased in the black silk dress that fell in soft folds just above her knees, she felt too exposed. When Elliott’s gaze lingered a little too long on the modest neckline that showed just a hint of cleavage, Lauren felt her nipples harden and knew they were visible through the sheer silk of the bodice. Her shoulders were bare except for the thin straps of the gown, and she felt very warm as Elliott’s eyes moved over them. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the reaction her looks had caused. She felt as if she had just been caressed. Oh, yes, this woman is definitely gay.
“So, Ms. Collier, what do you do five days a week that enables you to wear a beautiful Vera Wang gown?” Elliott asked, indicating the dress Lauren had recently purchased specifically for this event.
“I’m an attorney,” she said, fighting the urge to cover her breasts or move closer to this compelling woman, she didn’t know which.
“Are you in private practice or with a firm?” You are gorgeous!
“I’m chief counsel at Bradley & Taylor.”
And smart too. Elliott realized that she liked this woman. As a matter of fact, she liked her a lot, and she was impressed. Lauren could be no older than thirty-five, yet she held the highest legal position in one of the Fortune 500 companies that made their home in Southern California. “Very nice,” she said, nodding her head in appreciation.
“It’s a great opportunity,” Lauren replied, glad to be moving back to familiar ground. “What about you?” She threw back her recognition of the tuxedo designer that Elliott wore so well. “Something tells me a woman who wears Armani isn’t entrenched in corporate America,”
Smiling, Elliott asked, “Ever heard of Foster McKenzie?” She waited expectantly for the reaction that she knew would be coming.
It took a moment before Lauren connected the name with the face. No wonder Elliott Foster looked so familiar. In the same instant she inwardly suppressed a groan. Oh, Christ. She’s filthy rich. She recalled reading an article several months ago in the San Diego Business Journal that profiled Foster McKenzie as a third-generation family-owned business that had been mismanaged to the brink of bankruptcy. In the last three years the company had made a sweeping transformation into one of the largest venture capital firms in the country, all under the leadership of the woman she was sharing the patio with.
“Very impressive as well,” she replied.
“Well, you know,” Elliott paused, “it was a great opportunity I couldn’t pass up.” She barely contained her smile as she echoed Lauren’s earlier remark.
She was surprised by Lauren’s low-key and genuine-sounding response. It wasn’t the reaction she typically received when someone realized who she was. Lauren was either very good at hiding her emotions or not overly impressed. Either way, Elliott’s interest grew and she stepped closer to this intriguing woman. The diminishing space between them was filled with energy that increased as she scanned Lauren’s face and settled on her mouth. Instinctively, Elliott licked her lips. “I’d ask you to dance but I don’t think this crowd is ready for that yet.”
There was something dangerous and exciting in the way Elliott posed the quasi-question that made Lauren want to say yes regardless of the outcome. Elliott exuded the confidence of a wild adventurer, and Lauren thought if anyone could pull off
a same-sex slow dance at a society fund-raiser, it was this woman.
Elliott kicked herself for her last statement. Not an hour earlier she’d wanted nothing to do with seducing a woman, and here she was working on just that. Taking Lauren’s hesitation for unease, she glanced at her watch. “As much as I’ve enjoyed our conversation, my five minutes are up. May I walk you back?”
Elliott moved to stand directly in front of Lauren. Her eyes darkened as they bored into her, then just as quickly the change was gone. She reached out and took Lauren’s hand in hers. Her thumb gently stroked the sensitive flesh near Lauren’s wrist as she said, “Again, please accept my apology and enjoy the rest of your evening.”
The sound of her voice and the look in her eyes turned Lauren’s knees to jelly. As they walked across the small patio, she didn’t realize just how alone they had been until they stepped back into the overcrowded noisy room. She couldn’t help but watch as Elliott stopped to greet people, moving through the crowd with the grace of a gazelle and the confidence of a tiger. She soon captivated a group of guests and Lauren noticed that most of the men and even some of women eyed Elliott appreciatively, a few of them more interested than others. She felt an unexpected twinge of jealousy and jumped guiltily when a voice disrupted her scrutiny.
“Hi, sweetie. I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
The space to her right was filled by Alan Stone. She had met Alan many years earlier in college and they had immediately clicked. They crashed and burned on the romantic route when they realized that sparks did not fly when they were together. They had been friends ever since and frequently accompanied each other to social events where an escort was needed.
“Hi, Alan. I didn’t know I was coming until a few days ago. The boss’s nephew is in town and I received a command appearance notice.” Lauren’s tone conveyed her continuing displeasure at the situation. She knew she should be getting back to the nephew, but her attention was still on Elliott. “What can you tell me about the woman across the room standing next to the lady in the blue gown?” She directed her gaze in the direction of Elliott and tried not to look like she was pointing.
“In the tuxedo?” With more than a little admiration, Alan said, “That delicious-looking woman is Elliott Foster.”
Lauren was startled at her friend’s apt description of Elliott. “Yes, she is. But she’s not really your type is she, Alan?” Her friend’s preference was for men in tuxedos.
“She doesn’t have to be my type for me to comment on her. I appreciate all forms of physical beauty.”
“Alan, you’re impossible.” Lauren punched him playfully in the arm. They often teased each other about the people they were attracted to. At one time several years ago, it was the same man. That had been awkward when they both discovered that the man of Alan’s dreams, and Lauren’s fleeting interest, was actually married to Miss Colorado.
“Hey, you’d better not treat me like that if you expect me to give up the goods on Miss Knockout,” he said, rubbing his arm playfully.
“Sorry, you just bring out the best in me,” Lauren threw back.
“I’d hate to see you at your worst.” Alan glanced toward Elliott. “Why the interest?”
“We were talking a few minutes ago.”
Before Lauren could add to her statement, Elliott’s gaze shifted from the man she was with to scan the room. When she spotted Lauren, her eyes smoldered and she gave a small nod of recognition. Lauren smiled in return.
Alan turned to see what held her transfixed. “Earth to Lauren.” He waved his hand in front of her face to get her attention.
Tearing her gaze away, Lauren said, “You ask too many questions. I was just a little curious about her.”
“Uh, Lauren, honey, you do know that Elliott is a lesbian, don’t you?”
> God, I hope so. Her mind churned and her stomach tingled. She had developed her own sense of gaydar during her law school years; her roommate was a lesbian who often compared notes with Lauren on prospective hook-ups. She was not really surprised when Alan confirmed her suspicions. She knew she hadn’t imagined the nature of Elliott’s frank appraisal and hadn’t misread her comments.
Alan was plainly concerned that she might be heading down a wrong path, so she reassured him. “Yes, Alan, I know Elliott is a lesbian.” More gruffly than she intended, she said, “Now cough it up. What do you know about her?”
Alan took a breath and seemed to gather his thoughts. The fact that Lauren had so easily answered his question about Elliott’s sexual orientation obviously concerned him. However, he always said it was not his place to tell her what to do, and Lauren guessed he was measuring his words now.
“She’s the CEO of Foster McKenzie,” he said. “She took over the reins from her uncle when he ran the company into the ground a couple of years ago. She is bright, articulate, runs a tight ship, and has a way of wooing investors and employees. Some call it power, I’d call it charisma.”
“I’d definitely say that’s what she’s got,” Lauren murmured.
“I think she’s in her mid-thirties,” Alan continued. “She lives in Barrington Estates. Definitely the right side of the tracks.”
Lauren knew of the neighborhood that Alan was referring to. It was prime real estate along the shoreline of the Pacific, where each house had its own private beach and a minimum price tag of two million dollars.
“She gives buckets of money to her favorite charities but she keeps it pretty quiet,” he said.
“Why?”
“I guess she doesn’t want to make a fuss. In the last five
years she’s given almost a million dollars to the child crisis center.”
“You’d never know it by looking at her,” Lauren said. But if anyone knew about Elliott’s generosity it would be Alan. He was the chairman of the awards committee for this evening’s event. “She seems very unpretentious.”
“She also gives to the Barrett School, you know, the one downtown for the homeless kids,” Alan continued. “She pays for the school buses that drive around and pick up the kids from the various shelters and homeless camps. Do you remember the guy I dated for a while? John? He’s the manager at the Blue House.” He paused as if to check that Lauren recognized the name of a local clothing retailer. “She bought every kid at the school new clothes and shoes, and backpacks with all the stuff they need for school. Two hundred kids.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “She was actually selected to receive the benefactor award tonight and she turned us down. Threw the entire selection committee into a tailspin.”
Lauren was astonished. Very few people she knew would turn down a public accolade for their good works. It said something about who Elliott was, she thought: a person more interested in what she could achieve than in what people thought of her, perhaps.
“We had to regroup and pick another recipient.” Alan sighed. “Jeez, she does everything for these kids and she doesn’t want anyone to know! Makes me wonder if she’s running from the law or something.”
“What about socially?” Lauren asked none too subtly.
“Why the curiosity?”
Impatient that Alan was being cagey, she said a little too sharply, “Because I want to know, and it’s none of your business why.”
“Ouch!” Alan acted as if he were stung by the retort.
“I’m sorry, it’s been a long day. What else do you know? If you don’t mind,” she added with a please-forgive-me smile.
Alan jumped in with both feet. “Now, mind you, it’s all rumor and I have no firsthand knowledge or experience—”
Lauren interrupted him. “I get it, Alan.”
“She’s quite the social butterfly.” At Lauren’s look of puzzlement he clarified, “She rarely dates the same woman twice. Every time I’ve seen her out she’s with a different woman, and they’re all stunning. She’s quite a catch, but it sounds like she has no plans to tie herself down.”
“Really?” Lauren returned her gaze across the room in time to see Elliott shaking hands with a man and walking toward the exit. Elliott turned around and looked as though she wanted to return to where Lauren stood but changed her mind when she saw her talking with Alan. Instead, she waved a small good-bye before she moved through the door.
“It’s gotta be tough wondering if a woman is interested in you or your money,” Alan said with sympathy.
“Yes, I suppose it would be.” Lauren was definitely not interested in Elliott’s money. She had inherited a substantial amount when her grandmother died fifteen years earlier, and she’d invested wisely over the years. She was well on her way to a comfortable retirement by the time she was fifty if she so desired.
“Mmm. To listen to the girls talk, she is one smooth operator and no one goes home disappointed, if you know what I mean.” Alan arched his eyebrows, reminiscent of Groucho Marx.
I don’t doubt that. Lauren kept her expression even so Alan wouldn’t read anything personal into her questions.
“That’s the word on the street about Ms. Foster. Take it as you hear it,” he said with finality.
After some general conversation, they said their good-byes, and as Alan walked away Lauren continued to mull over what she had learned. Elliott’s generosity to the children of San Diego signaled that there was much more to her character than anyone would guess. At first blush, Lauren had thought she was probably too narcissistic to give a damn about others.
With a pang of regret, she glanced toward the doorway where Elliott had exited. She knew she could have extended their conversation if she’d chosen, and she now wished she had. Wondering if she would ever run into Elliott Foster again, Lauren went in search of her date. She was ready to end the evening’s charade.
Chapter Three
Elliott had mixed emotions about Monday mornings, and today was no different. She loved her work and was energized by the challenges she faced. Her business was investing in ideas, and the people she met were both brilliant and devious. The business proposals that Foster McKenzie assessed every day presented Elliott with the opportunity to hone her business skills on some and trust her gut instinct on others. Crafty individuals always had a scheme to get something for nothing and kept Elliott on her toes. She was responsible for billions of dollars and could not afford to be taken in by a smooth-talking con artist.
What she hated about Mondays was the traffic. There were more cars on the road than any other day of the week. Elliott separated them into three distinct categories: The first were the ones driven by people who had overslept and kept jockeying between cars to get the best position in the lane. The second group of drivers were those Elliott thought must hate their job and were in no hurry to get to where they were going. The final were those that were in either of the first two categories and were talking on their cell phones.
The blue minivan directly ahead of her was definitely in a hurry, the woman at the wheel talking feverishly on her cell phone. Elliott sank back into the leather seat of her midnight blue BMW 745i with a noisy sigh as she was cut off for the second time by this inconsiderate driver. Telling herself to keep her cool, she allowed her thoughts to replay the events of Saturday evening.
Not long after she’d arrived at the Lincoln Grand, Pamela Whitney had cornered her by the ladies’ room. Pamela was the daughter of the chief of police and they had first met at a benefit a few weeks earlier. She made it very clear that she was interested in a repeat of the hours they had spent together in her condo that night. The sex had been exciting and fulfilling, but regardless of the memory, Elliott sensed that Pamela was interested in more than a casual liaison, so she backed off.
She had no regrets about going home alone. By far the most enjoyable part of the evening had been the few minutes she’d spent with Lauren Collier. Even now, thinking about her in that form-hugging
black dress, Elliott had trouble concentrating on the road. She could kick herself. Why hadn’t she asked Lauren out?
Rebecca. That’s why.
The thought made her pulse hammer. She could actually hear her heart pounding in her ears. She had to get that bloodsucker out of her life, and soon.
Just as she was about to change lanes, the blue minivan with the distracted driver swerved and clipped the right front fender of her car. Elliott slammed on the brakes and the minivan spun around and stopped, facing her.
“Son of a bitch!” Elliott unbuckled her seat belt and jumped out of her car in a rage. She jerked open the offending driver’s door and started screaming at the woman inside. “You stupid bitch! What in the fuck do you think you’re doing? Get off the goddamn phone and pay attention to the road.” Her anger rose two notches when the woman still had not hung up the phone. Elliott grabbed the offending object from her hand and snapped it shut. “I said, get off the fucking phone.”
It was then that Elliott heard screaming coming from the backseat. She careened her head and peered inside. An infant, no older than a few weeks, was crying at the top of its lungs.
The woman grabbed Elliott’s arm and started pleading. “I’m sorry. Please, I have to get my baby to the hospital. He’s sick and burning up with fever and, please, please I’ve got to get to the hospital. I was talking to the doctor and he said to hurry. You can follow me. Please, I’ll pay you anything to fix your car. I’ve got to go.”
Elliott’s stomach dropped when she looked at the face of the pleading woman. Christ, when did I become such an ass? Handing the phone back, she softened her tone. “It’s okay. Go and take care of your baby and don’t worry about this.”
The woman didn’t give Elliott a chance to change her mind; she sped off in the direction of the local hospital.
Elliott slumped against the hood of her car. Her hands shook and she was breathing heavily. Elliott, you just screamed at a lady with a sick baby. You’re going to hell for that one. She was ashamed of her actions. Her patience and typical calm demeanor had definitely disappeared in the past few weeks. She found herself snapping at people for no apparent reason and had little tolerance for mistakes. And the way she had just exploded all over this poor woman was unforgivable. I need to get it together.