Toronto Collection Volume 1 (Toronto Series #1-5)

by Heather Wardell

  "Fine. Loud. Crazy. I loved it." She looked across the hall into Loren's cubicle then came further into mine. "Yesterday! What happened?"

  I told her how I'd gone looking for Loren's dad, and she shook her head. "Poor guy. I think it's so sweet that he takes care of him like that. So? What did you do with your day off? Were you together?" She rubbed her hands together gleefully. "Are you our first office romance?"

  Would that I knew. "I'm not really ready. I had a big breakup not long ago."

  "Oh, that's right, you mentioned that before. Still, he's sweet."

  Sweeter than she knew. And a better kisser than she could ever have imagined.

  She took a breath to say something else, probably to encourage me to go after Loren, then paused as we both heard someone approaching. I knew, somehow, and my heart was pounding even before Loren appeared in my doorway wearing black pants and a chocolate brown shirt, my favorite of his purchases, that made his eyes glow.

  "Hey," he said. "How was New York, Wendy?"

  She smiled. "Loud but fun. How's your dad?"

  "He's good," he began, but before he could go on she said, "I'm so glad Dana gave you time off yesterday. You deserve it." She turned to me. "You both do."

  "Aw, thanks."

  She smiled at me. "So what did you do? Anything crazy?"

  I couldn't look at Loren. "Starbucks, reading, a movie, clothes shopping... it was nice."

  "I thought that shirt was new." She brushed Loren's sleeve. "Gorgeous color, but now I'm hungry."

  We all laughed, since Wendy's appetite for chocolate was legendary around the office, and she said, "Well, I should get back to work but I'm going to hit the coffee shop first. I won't survive without a little something chocolaty. Want to come along?"

  I shook my head. "I'm good, thanks."

  Loren declined too, and Wendy headed off leaving us alone.

  "Dad wants to know if the 'nice young lady' can come over for dinner sometime. I said I'd ask." He smiled, looking as nervous as I'd been feeling. "What do you think?"

  Was that too much of a relationship thing? I didn't know. But I did want to go so I looked up into his eyes and nodded.

  His smile widened. "I'll let you know once I've cleaned the place up enough for you. Okay?"

  "Sounds good." I didn't want to go over tonight or anything like that. Just seeing him was stirring my body as I remembered the feel of his arms around me and his mouth on mine, and I felt we needed a bit of distance.

  Maybe he did too; he gave my shoulder a squeeze then said, "So, I bet we have tons of work piled up after yesterday. Feeling brave?"

  I grinned, but I wasn't grinning a few minutes later when we realized how far behind we'd become in only one day. We set to work, and we didn't touch and of course we didn't kiss but I loved being with him, loved it more than I thought I should. I wasn't ready, but somehow I forgot that when we were together.

  When his alarm went off near lunch time, I left with him so I could get some food at the coffee shop while he went home. Before we parted, he said, "I want to get you another Starbucks drink to make up for the one you didn't finish yesterday. Is that strawberry thing your favorite or do you want to try something else?"

  I looked up at him, feeling warm and fuzzy. "Given why I didn't finish it, I don't exactly feel deprived."

  His cheeks reddened and he smiled. "I hope not. But seriously, what would you like?"

  I'd like to be ready for a relationship with you. But I wasn't, so I said, "Get me whatever you think is the reverse of the strawberry thing."

  He winked. "Will do." Then his eyes flickered past me and his face tightened.

  Confused, I turned around to see Tina standing staring at us. When she saw me looking, she turned and fled.

  Loren shook his head. "Chasing her down and beating her up isn't an option, right?"

  I smiled, touched that he wanted to. "Probably wouldn't help your career to get arrested."

  "I suppose not. Well, have a good lunch but leave room for your drink."

  The last time he'd walked away from me he'd come back and kissed me. This time, he kept walking, but he looked back at me and then ran into a group of people returning from an early lunch. I watched, trying not to laugh, as they disentangled themselves from him, and once he was free he looked back and shot me an embarrassed grin. I flashed him a thumbs-up sign and he returned it then left.

  I ate lunch while reading the novel I'd bought and occasionally letting myself slide into memories, then went to put a dent in the work we still had to do. I was making decent progress when Dana called me to her office to brief me on a new project.

  "It's a big one. High visibility too. I know you guys can handle it, but if you have any trouble please talk to me. We can't let the date slip at all."

  "When's it due?"

  "October twenty-fifth. It sounds like a long time but it's not. Let me show you."

  We spent nearly an hour together going over the details, and she was right. The deadline gave us just over seven weeks, and I'd have liked at least another four. But if we pushed it would be doable. Once she'd made sure I understood the requirements, she said, "Well, that should get you guys going. You enjoyed your day off, I hope?"

  Willing myself not to blush, I said, "Yes. Thanks so much."

  She smiled, and I knew she'd figured out something was going on between us. She didn't say anything more, though, but, "Glad to hear it. Have a nice afternoon."

  I escaped without blushing too much, and returned to my desk to find a cup topped with whipped cream, a note stuck beneath it.

  It's a latte with peppermint and vanilla. Hope you like it!

  I took a sip of the hot drink. Delicious. Sweet and soothing but energizing too. Not unlike Loren himself.

  Since he was obviously back, I headed for his cubicle to thank him for the drink and tell him about the new project. I froze with one foot inside, though, when I realized he was on the phone.

  "No, and don't call me again. And the next time someone says, 'Maybe she'll quit,' don't take that as a reason to make it happen."

  He hung up, and before I could back away and pretend I hadn't been listening he turned and saw me.

  "Hi," I said helplessly. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, I was just coming to--"

  He held up a hand to stop me. "No worries. Look, Tina's still got my number from when she was with Brent and she wanted me to make you talk to her."

  I shook my head. "Nothing to say to her. But thank you so much for defending me."

  He smiled. "You're welcome. Did you try the drink?"

  "It's amazing. Thank you. What did you get for yourself?"

  He moved aside and gestured to the frosty pink-filled cup on the desk behind him. "Strawberry. It tasted great yesterday."

  "But you didn't try my--"

  Our eyes locked and I realized he had indeed tasted my drink. In my kisses, like I'd tasted his chocolate one.

  The current pulsing between us snapped to life again, then we both stepped back at once.

  He gave me a rueful smile. "Not at work, eh?"

  I shook my head. "Guess not." I cleared my throat. "So, Dana has a new project for us."

  We sat, carefully out of touching distance, at his desk and divided up the work, but every time I glanced at his strawberry drink a shiver danced down my spine.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Over the next few days I made a conscious effort to step back from Loren, and he seemed to be doing the same. I'd had several disturbingly erotic dreams about him but I wouldn't let myself think about the heat between us when I was awake. I couldn't. I wasn't ready to be with him, and even if he was ready he didn't have time to be with me.

  I didn't have much time either. The musical theater orchestra wasn't coming together as well as David wanted, so we now practiced three nights a week plus an extra session on the weekends whenever he could schedule it. I was still enjoying the experience, but between all those hours and the extra time I needed to put into th
e new project Dana had assigned to me and Loren, I had no time to breathe.

  I tried hard not to breathe at my bellydance class on Friday, since poor Nadia had a terrible cold and I didn't want to pick it up from her. She kept her distance from us and gave instructions by scribbling on a whiteboard, and instead of her usual hugs at the end she waved to us all from a safe distance.

  Monday was Labour Day, which I'd usually have spent with Alex at a friend's cottage. I didn't have time to feel wistful, though, even if I'd wanted to, because David had set up an all-day full rehearsal. Everyone was there, cast and crew and musicians, and we rehearsed for hours with only a short lunch and dinner break. I was exhausted after, but though I longed to go home I gave in to George's pleading and had a drink with him and most of the others to celebrate his birthday. Then I went home and fell asleep on the couch while Harrison was still trying to get settled in my lap.

  I was still tired the next day but I struggled through work and rehearsal. By halfway through rehearsal I was so wiped out I started to make stupid mistakes, but I pushed myself and managed to get through it by ignoring the fatigue.

  No way to ignore the sore throat I woke up with on Wednesday, though. If I'd swallowed razor blades and chased them down with salt water it couldn't have hurt much more. But Loren and I had a status meeting with the big bosses and I had my crochet group and I couldn't miss either, so I drank about fifty cups of tea with honey and kept going. Luckily, though it hurt to talk my voice wasn't affected.

  It was definitely affected by the next morning, though, rough and raspy, and my throat hurt even more and recruited the rest of my body into torturing me with a fever and overall achiness. No rehearsal that night, so I did my best at work and then went home and fell asleep at seven o'clock, not waking up until seven the next morning.

  Sleep should have helped, but instead it just gave the cold a chance to take over without my being awake to defend against it. When I woke up, I felt far worse. I couldn't speak at all, couldn't breathe through my nose, and felt dizzy when I stood up for more than a few seconds.

  When Loren appeared at my cubicle, I shook my head and whispered, "Go away. I'll make you sick."

  "I never get colds. And if you were going to infect me you'd have done it by now. We've been working at the same desk all week."

  "Good," I mouthed. "Bad enough I have it."

  He leaned against my doorway. "Can I get you anything?"

  I made a letter T with my fingers.

  "It hurts that much to talk?"

  I nodded. And to swallow and to let air through my throat, but I didn't have the energy to tell him so.

  "You should be at home."

  Yeah, probably. I shook my head and pointed at the files.

  "They could go home with you. Or we could catch up later."

  I shook my head again. He knew as well as I did we couldn't afford to get behind.

  He smiled. "I'm going to start lots of arguments with you today. I'll win every time."

  I made my hands into claws and reached for him.

  He retreated as if terrified, but his chuckle wrecked the act. "Okay, wild thing. I'll get you your tea. With honey, right?"

  I nodded, and reached for my purse.

  "Never mind, I got it."

  I shook my head. Why should he have to pay for my drink?

  "Sorry, can't hear you. See you soon."

  He left, and I shut my eyes and put my head down on my desk. Not even his sweetness and cuteness could make me feel better today.

  "Andrea."

  I jerked upright.

  "Seriously, go home. You were sound asleep right there. I've barely been gone five minutes." He set the tea on my desk and looked down into my eyes. "I'll keep us afloat and we can get caught up next week."

  I pulled my computer's keyboard toward me, opened the word processor, and typed, "I have orchestra practice tonight. If I go home I'll never leave again."

  "Probably just as well. You need your rest."

  "I have to be at practice. We're not supposed to miss any."

  "You're sick. It's not like you're skipping out on work to spend the day at the mall or something."

  I laughed, then winced as it hurt.

  His eyes softened. "Drink your tea and see if it helps. But if not I really think you should go home."

  I drank the tea, and while it calmed me it didn't do much for my throat. I managed to work all day, fueled by constant tea refills provided by Loren and a chicken soup he brought from home for me when he went home to see his dad, but I skipped bellydancing because I couldn't imagine having to move so much. I didn't go home, though, since I knew I wouldn't leave if I did. I worked a little late instead, then grabbed a slice of pizza for dinner. It burned going down so I couldn't finish it, and I was almost in tears heading for the rehearsal. I was just so tired.

  I was about five minutes late, since it took me far longer than usual to walk from the subway to the rehearsal hall, but to my surprise not even half the other musicians were there.

  David, clutching a handful of tissues, said, "Andrea, you too? You look like I feel," with an awful croak in his voice. "It's like a plague's hit us."

  I looked around. Most of the people were holding tissues or leaning back in their seats looking exhausted, and the few who weren't sick had positioned themselves as far from the others as they could. Hardly anyone was playing their instruments, and even those people didn't sound anywhere close to musical.

  "Okay, put that clarinet together and let's see what you can do."

  I found my seat, but George wasn't in his. I looked up at David and pointed at the empty chair.

  "He's too sick to come. His boyfriend called and said he couldn't make George stay home unless I said he should, and from the way he sounded when Cam put him on the phone I didn't have much choice."

  I nodded, then pulled my schedule from my music folder, wrote, "How are the performers doing?" and held it up for David to read. If the dancers and singers were as sick as we were...

  He shook his head. "They cut last night's rehearsal short after someone passed out, and they're taking the weekend off. Which they so can't afford."

  A chill not caused by the fever rippled down my spine. Had I sickened everyone? Nadia might have given me her cold despite her precautions, and I could have passed it along to the others when we were celebrating George's birthday. Had I put the performance in jeopardy?

  Pushing air through my clarinet hurt all the way down into my lungs, but I tried my best. The others did too, but people kept dropping out to cough or sneeze or just gasp for breath. David wasn't immune either, and after such a bad coughing fit he nearly threw up he shook his head and forced himself to speak loud enough that we could all hear him. "Forget it, guys. You can't play and I can't conduct. We'll all take the weekend off. Do everything you can to get better, okay? We need to get back on track."

  I did everything I could think of, as he'd requested, but Sunday night I didn't feel any better despite all the rest I'd got and the gallons of tea I'd drunk. I was slumped wrapped in blankets on the couch listlessly reading a book when my computer gave its 'new email' beep. Bored with the book, I staggered over to check.

  Folks, we're going to have to take more time off. Too many people are still sick, and there's no point rehearsing the few who aren't. We need everyone there. So we'll get back together on Friday and do the walk-through of the first act we were planning for Monday. Seven o'clock. If you're still too sick by then, let me know. If I haven't died by then.

  Take it easy,

  David

  If only the book had been more enthralling. I went back to the couch and my blankets, then dissolved into tears that hurt my throat and made it even harder to breathe.

  I couldn't help crying, though. I'd sickened everyone. We couldn't change the show dates, since the theater was booked for months, and this week off would do us so much damage. Nobody had mentioned being sick or unusually tired at Tuesday's rehearsal, but I'd already
been exhausted and the sore throat had appeared the next morning. I was the Typhoid Mary of the musical theater.

  I was the cause of this whole mess.

  Chapter Thirty

  I took Monday off work, then made myself go in Tuesday, convinced I could handle it. I only made it until lunch time before I was too worn out to continue, but I did take home a stack of work over Loren's objections.

  Sitting in my pajamas on the couch with Harrison snoring beside me felt so much better than being dressed and at work, and I actually got quite a bit of work done between naps. I worked from home on Wednesday and Thursday, then again felt like I could handle the office on Friday.

  I was right this time; though I was still weak I didn't feel any worse as the day went on. I even had enough energy to have lunch with Wendy, which worked out well since she was headed back to New York for the weekend and wanted to chat about how to deal with the client, and to grab a quick coffee with Loren in the afternoon. I'd missed him. We worked so well together, bouncing ideas off each other and coming up with even better ideas in the process, and besides I just enjoyed his company.

  Nobody was enjoying anyone's company when I got to the musical theater rehearsal hall that night after bellydance class. Instead of the usual bustle of chat, people sat in small isolated groups and looked grumpy. The friendly atmosphere I'd experienced at my dance class, and the way everyone commiserated with me on having been sick and gently teased Nadia for her 'bellydancing virus', only made the tension and lack of camaraderie at musical theater more obvious.

  The situation didn't improve when David began rehearsal, either. He looked exhausted but was at least able to talk, then to yell when people were in the wrong place or messed up their dance steps.

  "We couldn't practice," a girl finally snapped back at him. "We've been sick."

  The guy playing the monkey King Louie snapped at her in turn. "You didn't know your steps before anyhow. Most of you guys didn't. Everyone's blaming some stupid little cold for being useless, but I don't think it's got anything to do with it. Admit you're slacking already."