“No … No, ma’am.”
“Then, don’t you have work to do?”
Heath shoved to his feet. “Yes, and thank you.” He shuffled in reverse. “I’m going to take my fifteen minute break first. I need to make a phone call.”
Natalie nodded, and Heath slipped out.
In his office, he dialed Jason. “Can you come to my office?” He dug out the list of video participants from his center drawer.
“What’s up?” Jason asked, poking his head in the door.
Heath waved him closer. “I need your help setting up the final pieces of the Valentine’s Banquet. We can get together after work if you want. I’ll come to your place or meet you somewhere, whatever works best for you. This has to be done this weekend, though, so the recordings can be made next week.”
“Sounds good,” Jason replied. “I’ll come by after the final bell.” He reversed from the doorway.
Heath switched to his next task. After a search for the number, he called Grady and Maeve’s house and left a message. “Mrs. Aiers, this is Heath Olson. If you could call me … It’s about Joy.” He left his number and disconnected.
Her sister, Maeve, hopefully, would help him. One way or another, he wanted Joy at the banquet. Because all the words she’d penned, all the sentiments she’d spoken for others, she deserved to hear spoken to her. She needed to know that his life was not the same without her in it.
He simply wished he’d said so before they’d fallen apart.
CHAPTER 8
Her head on Maeve’s shoulder, Joy gave into the heartache crowding her chest. She’d lied to Heath and hated herself for it. Inevitably, he’d discover the truth, but she just couldn’t see him right now … if ever again. It seemed that there wasn’t any viable way for them to be in the room together without an explosion going off, so it was best to end it entirely.
At least, she’d told herself that repeatedly. Unconvinced.
“You know … I realize you think you did the right thing,” Maeve began, her fingers running through Joy’s hair. “But as down-in-the-dumps as you are, you should reconsider. After all, he brought you flowers.”
Yeah, he had, and he’d said what she’d wanted to hear. It’d felt like too little too late. Maybe between the first time and the second … or the third or the fourth … one of them should have stepped back and asked what they were about. They hadn’t.
“What about the banquet you were working on?” her sister asked. “You can’t just stop midstream.”
“He can handle it. I told Ms. Saccardo I was out. She wasn’t too happy, but …” Joy raised and lowered her shoulders. But she couldn’t force her to participate. But any affection she had for the holiday had dimmed.
Maeve pushed her to an arm’s length. “I love you. You know that, right?”
Joy swallowed and nodded.
“There is way more to you and Mr. Olson than all the humping you did.”
Her sister’s choice of words for what had been so intense made Joy smile, in spite of her dismal mood.
“I think you need to show him what he’s missing.”
Joy’s eyebrows rose. “He knows what he’s missing. He knows everything about me, including how flexible I am.”
Maeve smiled at that. “Yes, but he doesn’t have the important stuff. He doesn’t see your heart, and you’ve always been really good at hiding it. As outgoing and fun-loving as you are, when it comes to opening up, you suck.” Her sister’s grip tightened. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to dress you for that banquet. It’s what? A month away?”
Joy nodded, but couldn’t see where her sister was headed with this.
“We’ll find you the perfect dress, and you’re going to show up and blow his socks off.”
“Why?” Joy asked. “I dumped him.”
“For that very reason,” Maeve continued. “You need to see what you … Joy Griffin … do to him because I think you know it runs way deeper than all the junk you’re impaling yourself with. And listen to your heart for once. More importantly, listen to his.”
Her sister’s comments hung with her as the days passed. She thought of Heath every time she entered the building, wondering what she would say or do if they ran into each other. They didn’t and part of her was glad. The other part regretted the missed opportunity.
A week away from the banquet, her sister took her shopping. The third ill-fitting dress in, Joy collapsed on the dressing-room bench. “I’m not feeling it,” she said, “this whole holiday.” She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “It’s perfect for you and Grady, and he’d better give you the night of your life.” She wagged one finger. “But for me …” Her thought trailed away.
“No, now …” Maeve pulled her taller. “That room is going to be full of military men. My sister is going to catch the eye of a dozen of them and make Heath Olson know what he’s been missing. I saw a dress out there …”
Leaving her in place, Maeve disappeared back to the racks. She returned with a pink frothy number draped over her arm. “This is perfect for you, great for your skin tone. It’ll set off your hair, and please … with that rack, who needs straps.” She extended it. “Put it on.”
Joy eyed the dress, unsure. Her sister wouldn’t be deterred, however. So grasping the fabric, she captured it and retreated. The skirt fit perfectly to her curves; the top enhanced her bust line. Joy’s mood lifted. It really was great on her. Heath would love it.
She stopped herself cold. So what. She didn’t care what he would think. Did she? Yet, she knew she did. Even worse, she wanted him to see her in it, wanted to watch his eyes light up, count the throb of his pulse, knowing he pictured her without it. Wanted him to hold her and say something straight off of one of her cards.
But in wanting all of that, she set herself up for failure because the closest he’d come was saying he had “feelings”. Some feelings. They hadn’t gotten him to approach her again.
The night of the banquet, however, she was more worked up over her appearance and his reaction to it than she wanted to admit. Her nerves on end, fingers shaking, it took her three tries to zip the dress. Paired with new heels, her skin dusted with sparkling powder, she brushed her hair to one side and spun in the mirror.
Her sister texted. You’re ready?
No. She would never be “ready”. Joy snapped a picture of herself and sent it to Maeve, who replied with a thumbs-up emoticon.
A split second later, she texted again. Grady says, ‘Hot mama.’
Joy smiled. Hot mama, but what would Heath say? More importantly, what would he do? Would she go home tonight alone?
Did that matter? They’d had sex. They hadn’t made love, that soul-searing moment when who a woman is blends with what a man has, and, thinking on it, she wanted that more than anything in the world.
Heath greeted yet another man in uniform, a permanent smile etched on his lips. All of them knew of his father, a handful once serving with him. Quite a few were soldiers he’d known during his time in the service, and he loved reconnecting, but his gaze kept shifting to the doorway in the hope Joy would show up. Maeve had said she would, that she’d done as he asked and convinced her to come without giving any hint they’d talked. His doubts had continued to assail him though, the largest of which was, even if Joy showed up, she wouldn’t give him the time of day. Deserved.
“Mr. Olson, wonderful job you’ve done.”
Hearing Natalie, Heath focused. “Thank you, ma’am. I have to give credit to Miss Griffin and Jason Denny, who helped with the last minute details.”
“I will be sure to give both my personal thanks,” she replied. Her gaze sharpened, intent. “I saw Mr. Denny a moment ago, but haven’t seen Miss Griffen yet. I hope she can come to appreciate what good work she’s done.”
Seemed like much was held, unsaid, between the lines.
Heath nodded, not remarking on it. “Me too.”
Natalie held in place a moment longer then continued ahead, her h
and in the crook of her husband’s sleeve.
The crowd of people swallowed him once more, and he circulated toward the front. Nearing the podium, he was pulled aside to deal with a sound issue and shifted again afterward to answer a question about the food. Amidst the sea of pink and red decorations, silken streamers and plastic hearts, he lost sight of the entrance and so stopped, stunned, at the sight of Joy in the center.
Maybe he imagined it, maybe it was his own rose-colored vision, but every single male head in the room angled her way. She looked fabulous, a daydream, her lips full and pink, her cheeks flushed, and eyes bright. She held herself composed, but with that gleam that made him sweat.
An elbow jabbed in his side, and he jerked forward.
Jason nodded in her direction and waved him on. “Go,” he said.
His palms damp, Heath crossed the room, forcing himself to make even steps. He halted several feet away. A million words were written in her eyes, fear, worry, and he thought he read hope there. “You look … great,” he said.
She smiled and brushed one hand across her waist. “Thanks. You look handsome yourself.” Her attention shifted, trailing around the room. “We did it … Well, you did it.”
“No. It was you,” he replied. “I wouldn’t have thought to invite the military men, and that’s turned out to be the best idea of all. The local news is here …” He nodded toward a large video camera and accompanying reporter across the room. “They heard about it and want to use it on their evening broadcast for a ‘feel good’ story.”
“That’s super.”
“Joy, I …”
“I’d like to sit,” she said, interrupting. “Is there a spot for me?”
Cowed, Heath nodded and let his words go. He had so much to say. Now was not the time. Offering his arm, he waited until she accepted it then led her through the crowd toward the front. “I’ve placed you on my right,” he said, tugging out a seat.
A tall, thin Latino woman approached. “Don’t you two look perfect together,” she said. She held out her hand, and he clasped it. “You’re Heath Olson, the demi-god in advertising upstairs.”
Heath’s eyebrows arched. “I haven’t heard that one yet.”
“Samantha Reyes, understudy to our best designer, here.” She smiled even wider. “And someone said it to me, though if I repeat it word-for-word, I’ll probably have to take a sexual harassment class.”
Uneasy laughter moved between them.
“In any case, great job,” she added. She brought her eyes to Joy’s. “Enjoy yourself tonight. Dance. Fall in love.” She winked at him then and moved on.
He stared after her, uncomfortable, for a moment. Jason caught his eye from a few feet away, tapping his watch. Heath bent toward Joy’s ear. “I have to get things started,” he said. “I’ll return.”
She inclined her head, and he headed to the front. Climbing to the podium, he leaned forward, grasping the mic. “Good evening.”
The loud mumble of voices gradually ceased, faces turning in his direction. “First off, thank you for coming. This night is to raise money for veterans awareness. Our ultimate goal is to have a quarter of a million dollars before night’s end.”
A low hum swept the crowd.
“We’d like to thank the sponsors who’ve already chipped in and especially all our currently employed or retired servicemen.”
Applause started from the right, and he paused to allow it, taking a breath before continuing. “The food will be served in …” He glanced toward a large wall clock. “Fifteen minutes, so please find your seats. If you have any dietary requirements, the servers will come around in five, you can speak to them then. In an hour, we have a brief presentation in celebration of the holiday. We hope you’ll enjoy it and Happy Valentine’s Day from all of us at the Sentimental Valentine Company.”
There was more applause as he left the stage. He halted briefly at Jason’s side. “She looks great, and I’m sweating,” he mumbled.
Jason’s even expression never left. “I’m partial to my wife, of course, who says to ‘please come say hello before tonight is over’, but, you’re right … and don’t blow it.”
Don’t blow it. Make sure she knew exactly how special she was and, for once in their brief relationship, open up and tell her the truth. Heath took a seat at her side, drinking in the fruity smell of her perfume, the tempting tuck of her bottom lip, the red curl that lay perfectly poised on her throat. “My brother said to tell you how lucky I was.”
Joy’s brow knit. “Your brother?”
He nodded. “We had a long talk about our lives, his divorce, and what happened with it. It’s too negative for tonight, but I want to tell you about it.”
“Heath, you don’t …”
“No, I do, and I should have said something long ago. I promise we’re going to go there and, actually, I think it’ll be a relief for me. I’ve carried it around on my own too long. As to luck … I’m still holding my breath that the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met will dance with me.”
Joy bit the inside of her lip, her flesh folding inward.
“Will you dance with me?” he asked.
The blue in her eyes seemed unfathomable then, as if he could reach in and take hold. She nodded, and his immediate elation sobered. A dance, a chance to hold her and say what he should have, to be less of himself, less ego, less bravado, so that she would become more in his life. So much more.
Tears strung in Joy’s lashes, the final moments of the video coming to an end. She fancied she heard a corporate sigh from the ladies attending. “That was so beautiful,” one at their table said.
It was, and though it was her idea, seeing it pulled together by Heath, exactly as she’d planned, was complete fulfillment. He couldn’t have done it any more perfect. The strength of his presence, the heat of his skin, seemed to drag her closer, and unerringly, she did what she’d avoided so far, she leaned on him. He noticed the contact, his gaze caressing hers, not the tormented man who’d showed up at her doorstep, but the one who’d attended a wedding, sat at the hospital, thrown the most romantic fundraiser.
She dared herself to go further, poking her fingers beneath his hand. He curled them in his palm, and she fancied she heard the slightest faltering breath. Yet, when the lights came on, he looked the same. The band at the front took up a tune, and couples moved onto the dance floor.
Heath pushed to his feet, her hand still in his. “Would you …?” he began.
She nodded, and they headed toward a clear space. He held her close, but at enough distance to see her face. “I loved the video,” she said. “The Jewish couple that survived the death camps during World War Two … how’d you find them?”
“Friend of a friend. I remembered you said you wanted a mix, new and old. They were great to talk to, fun and full of life, in spite of what happened.”
“I’m sorry I missed meeting them in person,” she said.
“Joy …”
Her name on his lips, she pressed against him and laid her cheek to his chest. “Say whatever you need to, but I’m in love with you, Heath Olson. If that makes me look sad and silly, I don’t care.”
“Joy.” He spoke again, his voice thicker this time. He placed his hand on her head and turned her face upwards. “You’re no more ‘sad and silly’ than me. I messed up. I went about this wrong. I know that now. All the stuff with my brother gave me huge doubts about myself, but I have to be sure you know … every moment we were together, every beautiful breath we took, those were real. No one else has ever given me that.”
The tears she’d had minutes ago returned, dampening her cheeks.
“We’ll take this at whatever pace you want,” he continued, “but walking away from it … I can’t.”
His hand shifted to her cheek, and she leaned her face against it. “Come home with me,” she said.
Uncertainty formed on his face.
“That’s the pace I want tonight,” she continued. “Tomorrow …” She shrugged.
“Maybe we’ll go on a picnic, and you can tell me all that about your brother.”
When he still didn’t respond, she brought her mouth close to his. “You haven’t seen the new set I’ve got on.” His posture stiffened, and a laugh formed in her throat. “Heath Olson, we’d better keep dancing,” she said, “or the entire room will know what you’re thinking.”
He chuckled softly in her ear. “As soon as I can … be prepared to get out of here, else we’ll be stuck here all night.”
“The night is young,” she replied.
With every motion, the grasp of her waist and hip and thigh, Heath begged Joy to know what she meant to him. He sampled the sweetness of her tongue and cheek, danced his tongue across her breasts, rolling them, round and heavy, between his lips. Her naval was the softest place to sip, the plea of her legs, parted, his hunger and satisfaction mingled together. He reveled in the prick of her nails; he was euphoric at the cry from her throat.
But it was the giving of hearts that was different this time. She laid hers in his hands, delicate, yet solid, and he placed his at her fingertips to do as she wanted. She gazed up at him afterward, clear and unhindered. He allowed her the moment, then rolled over, to her side and curled her against him.
“My brother drove his car into a retention pond,” he said, the minutes passing. “He wanted to die, but a passerby saved him.”
“He was upset over his wife?” Joy asked.
Heath nodded. “He and I have never been particularly close, but, I mean, he’s my brother, so it hit me hard. I should have talked to someone, I guess, and dealt with it. When I got this job, he was living with Mom, and she encouraged me to go. She said I couldn’t let what happened hold me back. Truth is, that’s exactly what I’ve done. I wanted to find a woman who would be … sedate.”
Joy giggled, and he twisted his head to see her. “You find that funny?”
Turning onto her stomach, she draped herself over him, her hair spread across his chest. “Yeah, because you ended up with me.”
Sentimental Valentine Page 8