by Floyd, Jacie
“Don’t be. You’ll be the hottest woman there—even after I win the award.”
Her laugh came out much too loud and high pitched. “Just imagine, the hottest woman there with the best-looking guy and the winner of the award. It’ll be the most outstanding night of my life.”
He tipped back his head, flashed his perfect white teeth, and laughed out loud, something she hadn’t seen him do before. It marked a refreshing change from his on-camera smile, the charming one he used to get his way, and the mocking one that appeared when he wanted to put her in her place. Laughter made him look younger and boyishly handsome instead of worldly and smugly sexy. She relaxed a little. Maybe young and boyish she could handle. Worldly and smugly sexy scared the wits out of her.
“Well, just in case you need it, I brought you something for luck.” He handed her a white florist’s box he’d obviously placed on the side table earlier.
Flowers. Another first. Tears welled up in her eyes. She gulped and gave him a wobbly smile.
Carly burst through the door. “Wait ’til you see.” She pointed outside. “It’s the coolest thing ever.”
Relieved by the interruption, Annabel yanked her emotions back in line. “Cooler than the Harley?” She pictured the repaired Porsche as tonight’s mode of transportation. She hoped her dress didn’t get too squished riding in it.
“Totally different, but just as cool. Ooh, and look, he brought you flowers. What kind?”
“As if you didn’t know,” Max said to Carly.
“He called me to see what color your dress was,” Carly confided, then grinned cheekily at Max. “I just wanted to make sure you got it right.”
“There was no need for a conspiracy,” Annabel said to him. “You could have asked me.”
“That would have ruined the surprise.” The satisfaction of his smile oozed masculinity.
Her heart took another leap. “Everything you do surprises me.” She reminded herself of his reputation. She shouldn’t take any of this personally. Or seriously. Even so, her hands shook as she opened the box. “How beautiful. Thank you.”
She lifted the corsage of ivory roses surrounded by lily of the valley out of the green paper and sniffed. The flowers smelled almost as good as her date… er, escort… er, friend for the evening.
“Yeah, they’re beautiful.” Her stepdaughter dismissed them after a cursory glance. “Good job, Max. Come on, Anna, I can’t wait for you to see this.” Carly dropped Annabel’s glittery shawl around her shoulders, then led her to the door. As Annabel stepped outside, Carly spread her arms wide. “Ta dah!”
Annabel gasped at the sight of a sleek black limo parked in her driveway.
“The driver’s name is Eduardo. Isn’t that just scrumptious?”
The uniformed man in the traditional driver’s cap stepped up and opened the rear door.
Carly ran to the car and hopped into the back seat first. “Look, there’s champagne, TV, a DVD player, sound system, and everything.”
Annabel lifted her brows at Max. “Champagne?”
Mischief twinkled in his eyes as he guided her to the limo. “We’ll have something to celebrate afterward.”
“My victory or yours?”
“Somebody’s,” he said. “Maybe it’ll be a tie.”
The scrumptious Eduardo moved to help her in, but Max wouldn’t have it. His hand held her elbow and set her skin to tingling as she slid into the backseat.
“Why did you do this?” All the effort he’d made touched her so deeply she could barely speak.
Carly bounced on the seat across from Annabel. Max slid as close to Annabel as the full skirts allowed and took her hand in his. “Carly scolded me for not using the car and driver the station offered for our Let’s Talk date.”
“So you did this for her?”
“She thought you’d enjoy it.” His shrug made light of the gesture, as if it was nothing. Suddenly the gesture seemed very much like something. Something important. But no, that couldn’t be.
Just one more thing to check off the list of things she’d never done before. Going on a fancy date in a limo with a blistering hot guy. Check. And somehow, without mentioning any of them to him, Max was working his way down the list.
“Are you ready to go, sir?” Eduardo asked.
“As tempting as it is to be the escort of two beautiful women instead of one,” Max said, pointing a finger at Carly, “this one has to get out.”
“Already? “ The winsome teen gave him her version of puppy-dog eyes. “Maybe you can drop me off at the library. We can watch TV on the way. It’s almost time for Jeopardy.”
“Nice try.” Annabel smiled at her enthusiasm. “But if you’re such a big fan, go watch it inside. You don’t want us to be late.”
“Oh, snap. I can tell when I’m not wanted.” She hugged Annabel and seemed to surprise Max by hugging him, too. “Don’t forget, Anna, I’m spending the night at Logan’s. Call or text to let me know what happens with the award.” She ducked her head back inside the door the second before the driver closed it behind her. “I hope at least one of you gets lucky tonight.”
“I hope we both do.” Max squeezed Annabel’s hand as the limo pulled away from the curb.
And once more, she wondered just how serious he was about maintaining this friendship thing. And how serious she wanted him to be.
Max’s distaste for monkey suits and the type of events that required them faded as he watched Annabel’s fascination with the glitz and glamour around her. Her wide-eyed wonder provided him with the most fun he’d had with his clothes on in a long time.
Everyone who was anyone in Cincinnati rubbed elbows in the star-studded River Room at the top of the city’s fanciest hotel. Politicians and philanthropists, media personalities and sports figures abounded. Half the individuals present lived in or for the spotlight. Inflated egos in the room outran the humility quotient ten-to-one.
Max tried to steer Annabel to their assigned table without fanfare, but Roger and too many other colleagues from the station were covering the event to let him go unnoticed.
Tess, the award-ceremony emcee, looked very smug at seeing Max and Annabel together. She waited until Annabel had excused herself for a moment before heading his way. The talk show hostess kept her gaze moving to make sure she gained maximum exposure from the other luminaries in the vicinity as she questioned Max about his television date with Annabel.
“Haven’t you got the footage from Roger yet?” Even though his appearance on her show had started out as a promotional stunt, he felt a flash of resentment about sharing the details of what had now become a private matter.
She looked past Max to Annabel’s return trek with an appraising glance. “Yes, and I saw the sparks flying, but I didn’t think things would develop this quickly. Come on.” She leaned over and whispered her signature line in his ear. “Tell Tess all about it.”
He took a step back from the overly ripe breasts that brushed his arm and the heavy perfume that gagged him. “There’s nothing to tell, Tess.”
“Hmmm.” She tapped a brilliant red fingernail against lips painted the same color. “I thought you said she didn’t like you. The Ice Queen sure melted under the heat of your, uhm, personality, didn’t she? Does she know how indiscriminately you spread your heat around?”
He groaned over the description. “She knows all about it, and I told you, it’s nothing like that.” He turned to follow Annabel’s progress with his gaze. That gauzy dress clung to her body like sugar crystals in some places and floated around her like a cloud in others. Her charms weren’t as obvious as Shawntel’s or Tess’s, yet Annabel drew her own share of appreciative glances. Including his old buddy Tim’s.
What the hell was that snake doing here besides slithering up to flirt with Annabel? An unfamiliar and annoying prickle of disapproval stabbed him right between the eyes.
“You should call me tomorrow and—”
”Excuse me, Tess.” He ignored her frown of displeasure as
he hurried to rescue Annabel.
While Max picked up his pace, she sidestepped Tim’s hand on her elbow, avoided the palm he tried to plant on her bare back, and withdrew from the overly gallant, slobbering wrist-kiss Tim tried to administer. Max closed in as the bastard dropped his hand to her bottom.
“Sorry, I got delayed.” Max raised his voice from a few feet away.
“No problem.” Annabel turned toward him gratefully, evading Tim’s attempt at draping his arm around her shoulders.
“When I saw Annabel alone, I just couldn’t resist—” Tim pulled back after Max turned the full force of glare on him “—the opportunity to wish her good luck tonight.” He socked Max on the arm. “You, too, buddy.”
“Your support means the world to me.” Max socked him back, harder than necessary. “Come on, Annabel, we should take our seats.”
“Great to see you again, Annabel.” Tim, the rat bastard, leaned over to kiss her cheek, but met only air. She shifted away before he could make actual contact. “Maybe we can dance later.”
“Maybe,” Annabel allowed.
“Don’t hold your breath,” Max advised his buddy over his shoulder. Was it just his imagination or did she inch closer to him for protection? Max should have punched the lowlife harder. And lower. Next time he saw Tim, he’d warn the jerk to keep his paws to himself around a nice woman like Annabel.
When they arrived at their assigned table, her slimy boss, Howard Lasting, had arrived with his brittle wife. Max genuinely enjoyed every facet of the female gender, but Sylvia Lasting didn’t offer much to admire. She was one of those whipcord-thin women whose sense of humor matched her appetite—non-existent. Charley Asherton and Shawntel were present, too, but they were too wrapped up in one another to be much company for anyone else.
Max couldn’t see that match-up going anywhere, but Charley, a two-time loser in the marriage game, seemed awe-struck with Shawntel. Such a sweetheart, she deserved some happiness with someone who wouldn’t use her and drop her. Max would make sure Charley understood the rules.
Seated next to him in her erotic princess get-up, Annabel grew quieter with each course, although she tried to hide her jitters behind a smile.
“Are you done with that?” a harried waiter asked, preparing to remove the plate of Parmesan chicken she’d mostly rearranged on her plate.
“Yes, thank you.” Water sloshed over the rim of her glass as she carried it to her lips with a shaky hand.
After the untouched portion of Annabel’s rubbery cheesecake had been cleared away, Tess appeared at the podium and began the award portion of the evening. Max checked the program and noted that theirs would be the sixth and final public service category announced. In a show of support, he took Annabel’s hand in his, although he didn’t know how long he could stand it. Her grip cut off more of his circulation with each announcement. At this rate, by the time their turn came, she’d be crushing bones.
His pulse accelerated more when he thought about Annabel’s name being announced as the winner than it did thinking of his own. Some network hotshot had called him again that day to hint that winning the award would put the job in the bag for him, but he might be able to talk his way into the network position without it, if necessary. Annabel’s chance to continue doing the work she loved was in real jeopardy.
Finally, Nick Clooney, George’s dad, politician, former news anchor, and local celebrity, took the stage to announce their category, Best Public Service/Media Award. As he read the list of nominees, Annabel’s face brightened and her smile stretched. Max’s heart convulsed with pride and anxiety for her, and he missed hearing his own name when Nick read it.
Winning the award didn’t mean nearly as much to him as he had thought. Not nearly as much as it would mean to Annabel. At the last moment—and contrary to every ambitious and competitive bone in his body—he almost hoped she would win instead of him.
“And the winner is—” Nick paused for the usual fumbling of the envelope and dramatic pause before proclaiming, “Art for Art’s Sake, Heartfelt Productions, Lynn Dorey, producer.”
Damn. Applause burst around them, and Max joined in. No point in looking like a poor loser when the camera panned his face for a reaction. He smiled and nodded like he’d known it all along, but his gaze quickly turned to Annabel. Her taut expression revealed her pain, even though she clapped and smiled politely.
“Lynn Dorey,” he said to her with a dismissive shrug. She nodded, and then he repeated it to their bosses as if they hadn’t heard. “Lynn Dorey.”
“Tough luck, kiddo.” Howard tipped her a salute with his glass of scotch before knocking back a healthy slug.
“Better luck next time, dear.” His wife adjusted the rows of diamond bracelets on her wrist.
“Yours was a damn fine piece,” Charley said to Max. “These competitions are a crapshoot.”
“Oh, I wanted it to be one of you two.” Shawntel pouted as she kissed Max on the cheek. “You’re still the best in my book.”
The woman at the podium made her acceptance speech, gracious, witty, generous in her praise of the other nominees. Blah, blah, blah. She came and went, then Tess returned to the spotlight.
And Annabel sat frozen beside him, fragile enough to crack like ice under pressure. Amazing that he knew her well enough now to know she donned the Ice Princess persona when she cared too much to let her real feelings show.
Stroking his fingers along her arm while she battled her emotions, he waited to grab an opportunity for them to leave without making a scene. Willing to do almost anything to cheer her up, he could only think of one thing.
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Come on, darlin’. We’re outta here.”
The limo glided up to the curb on command. At least some things happened as expected. Draping her sparkly shawl around her shoulders, Annabel huddled in on herself. Max hustled her through the drizzling rain and into the backseat of the car.
As the car made its way out of downtown, she remained numb inside. He undid his tie and loosened the button on his collar before perusing the bottles in the mini-bar. The level of concern he angled her way in a series of side glances failed to penetrate her sense of loss. He made a couple of encouraging remarks, but she didn’t have the heart to respond.
She shouldn’t be so disappointed. It wasn’t that important. What was one little local media award, more or less? Max sure didn’t seem concerned about losing, or else he hid it better behind his on-camera face than she did.
Lynn Dorey had produced a fine piece.
Life moved on.
No big deal.
Except that she wanted to win.
She had said that winning the award would prove to Howard her ability to produce award-winning work. That winning the award would compel him to allow her to work on projects worthy of her talent. But that wasn’t it.
Either he would allow her to produce or he wouldn’t. He should be aware of her talents by this time, award or no award. She could stand up to him and demand her chance. She could go elsewhere to do the work she wanted to do.
What she had really wanted… needed… craved, in fact, was the acknowledgment that she was the very best at what she did. Better than the infamous Max Williams. Better than the accomplished Lynn Dorey. Better than everyone.
Not a very magnanimous reason for wanting to win a public service award, shame forced her to admit, but the admission needed to be faced.
Failure pressed in on her, making her feel weak and diminished. Alone and cold. Very, very cold, like the Ice Princess Max always called her.
She dabbed tears from the corners of her eyes. Max took her hand and closed her fingers around a glass of champagne. She put the glass in a holder and warmed a bit only when Max reclaimed her hand, cradling it in his.
“You’re supposed to drink that. I was going to propose a toast. Something clever about being too classy to be losers.”
“Not now, please.” Her stiff lips refused to smile any longer. She sh
ivered, watching the rain sheet the window.
“You’re freezing.” He scooted closer and slid an arm around her shoulders. “We need brandy, or scotch, not champagne.” He stretched his other arm toward the mini-bar again.
“No, I just want to go home.” She cuddled closer to his warmth.
“Do you have brandy at your house?” His breath washed across her cheek. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.
Did she have brandy? Probably not. She shook her head. Max tapped on the glass and gave the driver an address.
“Where are we going?” Her teeth chattered around the question.
“My place.” He wrapped his other arm around her and gathered her to him. His hands slid under her shawl, moving over her arms, back, neck, and shoulders, soothing and healing.
If she weren’t so cold, so frozen, she’d move away. But for now, she needed all the heat he could give her. “No, just take me home.”
His fixed gaze drilled into her with the precision of a laser. It penetrated the cold sense of failure down to her very bones, to the place that terrified her.
“Fine.” He tapped on the glass to issue new directions.
Through the rain-streaked windows, she saw the lights ablaze inside her house, offering a false sense of welcome. Carly was out for the night, but the girl never remembered to turn off the lights when she left. Annabel dreaded going inside and huddling alone with her disappointment.
A pair of warm pajamas and a cup of cappuccino might comfort her. Or a less-sophisticated pleasure, like hot cocoa. Double chocolate with extra marshmallows. She could thaw out her frozen brain, indulge in a brief pity party, and maybe allow herself a few tears as she went to sleep. Then she’d get up and face the morning with a new perspective. She’d think about the future then.
Max bundled her through the rain and onto the covered porch. He lowered the umbrella provided by Eduardo and took the keys from her hand when she fumbled with the lock.