Doing the Right Thing

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Doing the Right Thing Page 5

by Elizabeth Lennox


  Not just sexually, she suddenly realized, with a blast of clarity that was definitely coming too late since her wedding was scheduled for this Saturday. Lillian realized that she truly enjoyed being with George. Before all this wedding stuff started up, she and George would sit in each other’s offices and talk about a variety of topics. Business, the future, what each of them wanted for their futures and…the more she thought about it, the more Lillian realized that she and George wanted the same things. And yet, she’d never discussed the future with Phillip.

  Of course, she’d never dared to tell either man about her designing dreams. That was something she’d always kept close to her heart. In school, she’d majored in business, just as her family had expected of her. On the side, she’d taken art classes and design classes, but never mentioned those studies to her parents or to Phillip. Nor had she said anything to George. Only Becca, Jane, and Tallia knew about that dream.

  What in the world was she doing?! Sitting up straight, she realized that she was marrying Phillip with the same reasoning with which she might purchase a car! He made sense and fit into her lifestyle. He was reasonably handsome and recommended by all of her family and friends. No thought had been put into the relationship. No romance at all.

  Of course, there wasn’t a whole lot of romance between herself and George. Several months ago, they’d flirted with each other, but, at the time, she hadn’t thought anything about that flirting. His teasing manner had morphed into anger towards her and now? Well, that anger had once again changed into…or maybe it hadn’t changed. Maybe their anger had only masked what they’d both been feeling? Was it possible?

  Just last month, she’d watched him walking across the park to the office and remembered being unable to pull her eyes away from his broad shoulders. And the month before, they’d been dancing at a social event, Lillian couldn’t even remember what for, and the blush that heated up her cheeks as he’d held her in his arms, the warmth of his touch…had she really been so obtuse? She’d thought it strange at the time, but hadn’t pulled away from him. In fact, she’d actually stepped closer, enjoying the way he held her, his strong hands holding hers, his arm around her waist, and the heat of his hand on her back.

  All signs of sexual attraction, and yet, it was so much more than that! It was…?

  “Lillian?”

  She spun back around and stared up at Ralph, her assistant, not sure why he was standing there in her office.

  “Did you want me to call to have your final fitting rescheduled?”

  Lillian stared up at Ralph, not sure what to say. Or what to do! This was crazy! She was days away from marrying Phillip and she was just now discovering that she had feelings, very intense feelings, for George?

  But he’d been a horrible person towards her for the past several months! He’d been snapping at her, making snide comments and…was that all because he had feelings for her? Was that possible?

  “Ma’am?” Ralph prompted.

  Lillian jerked at the sound of his voice interrupting her mental challenges. “What?” she asked then saw the stunned look in his eyes. “Oh! Right! The fitting!” She stood up and grabbed her sketchpad out of her desk, stuffing it into her bag and grabbing her purse. “No. I don’t need another fitting,” she told him, thinking that she didn’t really need a dress. Not a wedding dress, anyway.

  “I’m leaving for a while,” she told him.

  With that, she walked out of her office, assuming that Ralph would cancel any other meetings she might have this afternoon. Not that she remembered scheduling any. She’d told Ralph to keep her schedule light this week so she could be with her friends.

  And get ready for her wedding?

  No, she thought as she stepped out of the elevator and walked across the street to the park. Sitting down on a bench, she realized that she hadn’t really thought of her wedding in terms of a major event. It was simply another social obligation on her calendar.

  Promising to mesh her life with another person hadn’t garnered enough excitement to even make it a high priority on her schedule! What kind of a person did that make her?

  She’d have to stop the wedding. There was no way she could marry Phillip, not when she didn’t love him. Lillian knew that she’d tried to talk to Phillip several times about this wedding. Even yesterday, she’d gone to his office to…well, yes, to call off the wedding. But he’d rushed out and she’d allowed him to go, feeling a reprieve because she hadn’t wanted to hurt Phillip.

  Yes, it was going to be an absolute mess. But it had to be done. She simply couldn’t marry a man she didn’t love. And why hadn’t she realized this sooner? Like several months ago, when she’d accepted Phillip’s proposal?

  Come to think of it, had he actually proposed? Nope. His grandmother’s engagement ring had shown up at her office by special messenger. She’d opened the box, realized what it was, and called Phillip. Apparently, his mother had gotten it out of her safety deposit box and sent it over, thinking that they would make a good couple. They’d both laughed about the ring arriving without either of their knowledge, and joked about how they were now engaged.

  With a gasp, she suddenly realized that the afternoon she’d slipped the ring on her finger, admiring the design and the sparkle, was the same day that George had gotten angry with her for the first time. Their flirting lunches and post-work-hours conversations over a shared bottle of wine in either of their offices had stopped that day as well.

  What had she done?! She’d engaged herself to one man while falling in love with another! How absolutely ridiculous was that?

  Opening her sketchpad, she started drawing. Not really having anything in mind, just drawing and sketching, her charcoal pencil almost ripping through the paper with her angry, disdainful slashes across the page.

  “What did the paper do?”

  The deep voice sent shivers racing throughout her body. Turning around, she looked over her shoulder at George. He was standing about a foot behind the bench, his hands in his pockets as he leaned against one of the oak trees, looking devastatingly handsome.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I saw you come down here several hours earlier. When I walked out of the office a few minutes ago, you were still here, so I decided to stroll over to find out what you were doing.”

  Lillian looked around and realized that the sun had set, the streetlights and the Christmas lights festooned on every lamppost were the only light illuminating the park now. And it had gotten chilly.

  “Um…” she wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m supposed to meet you,” she said, feeling awkward now that she’d discovered what was in her heart.

  He looked over her shoulder at the drawing. “You’re angry. About what?” he asked.

  She looked down as well, not really sure what she’d been attempting to draw. But the dark, thick lines slashing across the paper gave off emotions more than any structure.

  “Yes. I suppose I have a lot of suppressed issues right now.” With that, she looked up into his dark eyes, trying to determine if he understood what she was saying.

  Of course he did. George was one of the smartest men she knew. He probably understood a whole lot more than she did at this point.

  “How about dinner?” he offered, extending his hand to her. “We can talk about all of the issues you are suppressing.”

  She looked at his hand for a long moment, and decided she might as well have this conversation now. It was going to happen sooner or later. Better to just talk with George. Even if she was wrong about the way he felt, at least she could be honest with him about the way she was feeling. It was crazy not to, she thought as she took his hand and allowed him to help her stand up.

  With a sigh, she grabbed her purse and looked around. “I’ll get my car.”

  “I’ll drive. We’ll get your car later.”

  She didn’t want to argue with him so she acquiesced to his “suggestion” and followed him back into the building. They took the stairs to the parking ar
ea and, five minutes later, they were zooming out of the garage and into the stream of traffic heading out of the city.

  Lillian tried to come up with something to converse about during the drive to his house, but for the life of her, she couldn’t come up with any subject that didn’t feel strange. The weather? She’d just had sex with the man in her office the day before, and she’d run out of the office as soon as the morning light filtered through the window blinds. The mundane topic of the more mild temperatures than usual just seemed like the wrong thing to say after being intimate with someone. She discussed the weather with others, people she barely knew and didn’t have any background with, it was an easy, safe topic.

  There was nothing easy or safe about their situation.

  When he pulled into a beautiful, older house that seemed to have been newly renovated, she sighed with appreciation. “I love it when people restore the older homes instead of tearing them down and building something new.”

  He laughed softly as he pressed the button that opened the garage door. “You’re going to hate my kitchen then.”

  Once he pulled into the garage, she stepped out of the car quickly. She didn’t like the intimacy of the darkness, needing something lighter, more open right now. “Kitchens should be functional. The older kitchens in these houses weren’t very functional at all, so I promise not to condemn you for a more modern kitchen.”

  He put a hand to the small of her back as he led her into the house. “I’m grateful for your pardoning,” he teased.

  Several months ago, she might have turned to look at him over her shoulder, fluttering her eyelashes as she said, “Oh, I’d never pardon a devil like you, George.” But not anymore. Instead, they walked silently into the house and she stopped as soon as he flipped the light switch that lit up the incredibly modern kitchen. All of the appliances were stainless steel, but he’d kept the weathered, aged brick walls and used open shelving instead of cabinets where pristine white dishes were stacked neatly in rows.

  “This isn’t bad at all!” she gushed as she set her purse carefully on the old table that had newer, more comfortable chairs surrounding it. “It’s lovely! I love the way you’ve mixed the old and new together. It creates a…”

  She stopped, looking at him as he leaned against the table, arms crossed over his broad and, she now knew, muscular chest. He’d taken off his jacket and tie while she looked around, tossing both onto one of the old chairs. The sight of his enticing shoulders pulling at the tailored material made her mouth water and her mind go blank. She wanted him. That was her only thought now.

  “Thank you,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “Would you like some wine?”

  Lillian debated the offer, and in the end, shook her head. “I think for our conversation, I might need something a bit stronger tonight.”

  He lifted a brow, but nodded in agreement. He walked over to a cabinet on the other side of the kitchen and pulled open one of the doors. Inside, there was a large assortment of liquors and he pulled out one that actually looked a bit dusty. “Are you hungry?”

  She thought about it, but declined the offer of food. “I don’t think I’d be able to eat anything,” she admitted.

  He handed her a crystal glass of amber liquid and she sipped it, nodding her head at the rich bourbon he’d provided. “This is good,” she whispered, turning away from him, not sure how to start the conversation.

  “Thank you.”

  She sighed, rubbing her forehead as she tried to figure out how to start the conversation. “I know that…”

  “You’re not going to…”

  They spoke at the same time, then looked at each other and laughed.

  “I’m going to cook,” he announced and walked over to the refrigerator. “I know you might not eat anything, but cooking relaxes me and helps me think.”

  She smiled, pulling out one of the chairs at the table. “I hate to cook. I usually pick up my meals at this small restaurant over on Royal Street. The chef there makes a mean salad!”

  He looked at her over his shoulder, but she couldn’t read his expression. And Lillian wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  “How about salmon?” he offered.

  She looked at him strangely. “You have salmon in the fridge?”

  He pulled out something wrapped in paper and tossed it onto the countertop. “I have fish at least once a week. It’s a challenge to cook and I like trying different recipes.”

  They discussed the various ways to cook fish, the complexities of the sauces and the wines they preferred with each kind. By the time the salmon was in the broiler, she felt a bit more relaxed.

  He spread his arms out wide, looking at her over the countertop. “Are we going to dance around the subject a bit longer, or are you ready to talk to me?”

  She was startled by his abrupt subject change. But again, she should have known that he wouldn’t let her slide on the topic that seemed to be weighing both of them down.

  “I’m not sure,” she admitted.

  “We could just head on upstairs and you could let me make love to you,” he offered, his intense eyes looking right at her, daring her to ignore the heat sizzling between them. “I’ve pictured you in my bed so often, Lillian. I can’t even tell you how many times dreams of you in my arms have woken me up and I’ve had to take a cold shower before heading into the office.”

  She was startled by his honesty, not sure she knew how to handle it. As they continued to stare at each other, she finally couldn’t handle the tension any longer and laughed. “You’re really not a southerner, George.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, taking out plates and setting them on the counter.

  “I mean, a true southern gentleman would allow the lady to broach any difficult subject herself.”

  He winked at her. “The way things were going, I wasn’t sure we’d ever start talking about what’s on both of our minds.”

  “See? You’re too direct for a southern gentleman.”

  He shrugged as he chuckled. “I guess I’ll just have to remain a Yankee, then.”

  “I believe we refer to ya’ll as members of the nouthern aggression,” she teased, and smiled when he laughed.

  “And you’re still trying to avoid the subject,” he pointed out as he bent to check on the salmon. Obviously, it wasn’t finished cooking since he closed the oven and turned back to look at her. “Why did you have sex with me yesterday?”

  She held her breath, trying to figure out how to answer that one honestly but without revealing anything too embarrassing. “You mean, why did I have sex with you only a few days before I’m supposed to marry another man?”

  He didn’t answer for a long moment, and then he nodded. “Okay, let’s go with this question.” He paused and she held her breath again. “Do you love Phillip?”

  Letting the air gush out of her lungs, she was relieved for an easy answer. “No.”

  “Then why are you marrying him?”

  Turning away, she cradled the glass of bourbon in her hands and looked around the kitchen. But this time, she didn’t really see anything. Lillian was trying to figure out how to explain her actions to someone like George. He would never find himself in a situation he hadn’t chosen.

  “Lillian, I have all night,” he said, prompting her to turn around.

  The patient look in his eyes told her that she really needed to be honest with him. “Because his mother sent me the ring,” she admitted. When his dark eyebrows went up in response, indicating he needed more information, she sighed. “Apparently, his mother and mine discussed it between themselves and decided that we would make a good couple.”

  Turning away, she paced the space of the large kitchen. Thankfully, he didn’t have a lot of furniture, so there was plenty of space to pace. “Phillip and I have attended the same functions so many times over the years, we started to joke about saving gas by just attending together. We always seemed to arrive at the same time, then found ourselves leaving at the s
ame time as well. So when we joked about going together, it just made sense. We were always invited to the same functions, knew the same people, and got sick of their company by about the same time every evening. So we just sort of…started going together. And since we arrived together, everyone started to assume we were dating.” She shrugged, realizing how sad and pathetic her explanation sounded. “Eventually, our mothers decided that it made sense for us to get married. His mother dug out his grandmother’s engagement ring, sent it over, and…” she shrugged, as if that made sense. “Well, we were engaged.”

  George’s eyes were dark and burning as he watched her during that explanation. “He didn’t propose? You didn’t accept?”

  She shook her head. “No. Although, I hadn’t realized that until I thought about it this afternoon. At first, Phillip and I treated our mothers’ machinations as a joke.”

  “But you continued to wear the ring.”

  “Yes,” she replied, sighing as she realized how much of a role she’d played in the ridiculous confusion. “And as time moved on, Phillip and I talked about it and…well, we made sense. We just…matched. Our lifestyles are the same. Our opinions are the same. We just…we were already friends, why not get married?”

  He turned away and she knew that he was angry. Or hurt? Lillian hated the possibility that she’d hurt his feelings. He’d always seemed so strong and confident.

  “We’ve never even kissed each other,” she announced as he lifted the salmon out of the oven, placing the tray on the stovetop.

  George looked at her sharply. “What the hell do you mean?”

  She stepped closer, trying to get him to understand. “Phillip and I…we’ve never even kissed each other.”

  Lillian realized that George couldn’t understand that and it warmed her heart, gave her hope.

  “I’ve seen you kiss him, Lillian.”

  “On the cheek. I’ve kissed his cheek. He usually kisses my forehead or my hand. Sometimes he’ll kiss my cheek, but normally…” she shrugged, not sure how to explain. “We might make sense on paper, but there’s absolutely no physical attraction between us.” She stared at him, willing him to understand what she was telling him. But he continued to glare at her so she went for full disclosure. “Marrying Phillip is a bit like marrying one’s brother. I love him, but I’m not in love with him. And I have no desire to touch him…” she paused, seeing his shoulders relax slightly. “Not the way I want to touch you,” she told him.

 

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