“Why Mrs. Kensington you know it’s my bag baby,” his voice purred with a gritty tone.
The pair of strangers found this exchange of Hollywood cinematic quotes to be quite humorous. Ashleigh took a sip of her cocktail, the Northall Bramble, a gin sour drink with a sweet mix of blackberries, raspberries, orange and lemon juice.
“My name is Ashleigh. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, giving him a sweet smile with her hazel eyes beaming.
“Liam, Liam Frost,” he said adjusting his ink black tie, in his very best James Bond voice (Connery not Brosnan). He extended his hand to meet hers. A wave of heat rushed over Ashleigh’s skin. Electric pulses radiated through her core at his touch. Her eyes darted to the sculpted curve of his mouth, and she wondered what it would be like to kiss this tall drink of water.
Listening intently as Liam talked about the hotel’s history in his Welsh accent, Ashleigh was utterly enraptured with everything about him. Everything he did was so smooth and sexy, even the way he picked up a cocktail napkin and placed it in front of her.
It should be illegal to be that charming.
Liam, who was leaning casually on the bar with his right forearm, gracefully shifted and picked up his martini with his left hand never taking his eyes off Ashleigh. Ashleigh was feeling especially sexy and confident that evening wearing her newly purchased long-sleeve white Issa dress with a sexy slit down the bodice. Signaling the bartender with his index finger, Liam ordered two more cocktails.
Yep, that was even sexier than picking up the napkin.
“Would you care to join me on the patio?” Liam asked, his brown eyes blazing with intensity.
“What patio?” she inquired, feeling the knot in her stomach begin to tighten.
“The one that sits just off the Hamilton Penthouse.”
“The Hamilton Penthouse?”
Liam leaned in closely. “Where else but the Penthouse would be best suited for James Bond?” he said, smiling coyly.
“I…I’d love to join you,” she replied feeling the knot in her stomach began to release slowly.
Ashleigh finished the last sips of her drink and grabbed the refresher that Liam ordered, along with her clutch. Liam slid her chair back and offered his hand. Ashleigh stepped down and felt Liam’s hand touch the small of her back directing her body to the exit. As the pair walked down the hallway past the concierge desk, Ashleigh said, “That was some cocktail reception tonight.”
“Yes, it most certainly was.”
“How did you end up in the Hamilton Penthouse, Liam?”
“Well, I have a friend who works for the company that manages the Corinthia,” Liam stated as he hit the up arrow at the elevator corridor. Ashleigh smiled and said, “I guess it’s good to know people in high places.”
“Or have attended University with your best mate and then later introduced him to his future wife. That way he always feels as if he owes you one,” Liam replied as he reached into his jacket pocket and took out the keycard inserting it underneath the HPH button.
“Miss,” a nasally voice pricked at Ashleigh’s ears. “Miss what would you like to drink?”
Ashleigh lazily looked up from her seat and saw a young flight attendant smiling at her with a pen and paper ready to take her order.
“I’ll have a club soda with a twist of lime.”
The flight attendant nodded at Ashleigh and continued down the aisle. Ashleigh unlocked the tray table of the empty seat next to hers. The captain came on the loudspeaker saying,
“We have now reached 10,000 feet. You may turn on all electronics. However, due to the slight stormy weather we are experiencing, I’d like to leave the seatbelt sign on.
Our total flight time is eight hours twenty-five minutes. We will be arriving in Detroit at approximately at 1:05 A.M. local time. The weather in Detroit is a cool fifty degrees with mostly cloudy skies. We are happy to have you aboard Delta, and our flight attendants will be sure to take good care of you during the duration of our flight. Thanks again for choosing Delta Airlines.”
Ashleigh reached for her handbag under the seat in front of her and pulled out her day planner, opening it to make sure her hotel confirmation number was easily accessible. She was going to stay the night at her favorite hotel near the airport. She really disliked the one hundred and sixty-one mile drive from Detroit to Grand Rapids. She had chosen to book a hotel room overnight, which would give her plenty of time to rest before her 12:15 P.M. flight home. The flight attendant returned handing Ashleigh her drink and a bag of peanuts.
“Thank you very much,” Ashleigh whispered to the flight attendant, who smiled and then proceeded on her way delivering the remaining drinks. Ashleigh put her headphones on, and the sound of Michael Buble’s sexy, smooth as silk voice, crooning the song “Feeling Good” went pulsing through her ears. She took a sip of her drink and placed the cup back on the tray table. The refreshing bubbles from the club soda coupled with the smooth jazz sounds coming through her ear buds returned her to her earlier thoughts of Liam, and she closed her eyes.
Chapter Five:
Emily
Arriving home shortly after five-thirty, Emily quickly unloaded her car and grabbed the mail. It was a fairly quiet evening in her neighborhood. A few kids were riding their bikes down the sidewalk as the warm spring breeze gently rustled the newly blooming leaves on the oak trees that lined her street.
Emily lived in the historic Ottawa Hills neighborhood in Grand Rapids on Pontiac Road in a lovely four bedroom, three and half bath home. Purchasing the home fairly inexpensively and renovating it to suit her modern contemporary taste took about three months. Nearly everything was white except for an accented color palette mostly made up of Spanish Grey, Dark Vanilla, Grullo and Classic Black. The vanilla hues made the space feel warm and welcoming, while the grey and black tones gave it a polished finished. Emily thought the expansive dark hardwood floors throughout the kitchen and hallways, beautiful crown molding and marble counter tops in the kitchen and bathrooms added a touch of glamour.
Placing her Tod’s indigo leather handbag and that day’s mail on the glass console table in the foyer she kicked off her heels. Emily padded into her kitchen and opened the right side door of her stainless steel refrigerator pulling out all the ingredients needed to make a grilled chicken salad. She placed the items on the center island beside the double sink. Emily loved her kitchen but hated to cook. Craig, he loved to cook, and Emily always enjoyed watching him as he prepared delicious exotic meals. His favorite culinary works were Middle Eastern and Mediterranean dishes. Since Craig had been gone Emily had to learn the art of cooking for one, though her meals were far less culturally influenced.
Switching on her iPod, music from a 1980’s mix poured through the speakers. While chopping an avocado into cubes her feet began to move in rhythm with the sounds of “Kiss” by Prince.
Great, everything’s reminding me of Craig today.
Emily began to sing the chorus out loud while laying a halved chicken breast lightly brushed with olive oil, pepper and salt on the grill top. A few feet in front of the island sat her round kitchen table that had seats for four. She dropped her utensils at one of the place settings and pulled a bottle of Stinson Vineyards Monticello Chardonnay from the wine cooler located underneath the island.
The white wine was illuminated by the pendant lights hanging above causing a prism of colors to reflect through the glass. Tearing the already washed lettuce, she placed it carefully in the bowl, adding grape tomatoes, the cubed avocados followed by diced carrots, mushrooms and the chicken that she had cut into small strips. Blue cheese crumbles poured from the measuring cup, each one bouncing off the bed of greens as if a snowball fight had broken out between the leaves of lettuce.
As the sink filled up with warm water, Emily took a final sip of h
er wine. She heard her phone ring and went to retrieve it from her handbag that was still sitting on the table. She rolled her eyes at the sight of Ethan’s name appearing on screen.
“Hi Ethan, what’s up?” Emily answered the call casually, trying not to come off overly annoyed.
“Emily, I was calling to see if you’d like me to order dinner for us tonight?”
“Oh. Sorry Ethan, I’ve already eaten.”
“Very well, Emily.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll see you in about an hour. Don’t be late.”
“It was thoughtful of you to consider me for dinner, Ethan. See you then.”
The phone call with Ethan reminded Emily to text Andy, saying that she had plans with a friend and that she would catch up with him at the gym soon. She set her phone down on the table, picked up the dishtowel and hurriedly began wiping down the counters. All the dishes were washed, dried and put away.
Emily ran upstairs to her bedroom to slip into some jeans and her favorite electric blue, silk blouse from J. Crew. Looking at her reflection in the mirror she decided to touch up her makeup, lightly. She brushed her teeth, put on some more deodorant, glossed her lips with her favorite nude lip color and spritzed some perfume. The clock read 6:33 P.M. With a final check of her makeup in the living room mirror she grabbed her purse and glided out the door.
Staring at Ethan, Emily took note of his appearance. He was wearing a light blue button down shirt that had faint pinstripes paired with dark jeans. He rarely wore anything casual. She was used to seeing him in suit and tie. Even on Friday’s when the dress code was relaxed it was rare that Ethan would come to work wearing jeans. For a guy he accessorized well, nothing too flashy, but he did occasionally style his suits with a pocket square, shiny cuff links or a sterling silver tie clip from Tiffany’s. And he loved watches, Cartier, Burberry, Gucci and Movado. He probably had at least ten different styles he could circulate and mix and match through his wardrobe.
Ethan was now standing next to her. “You smell nice this evening,” he remarked, his voice silvery.
“What a lovely compliment. Thank you, Ethan.”
Why can’t he be this nice all the time? Or maybe he was suggesting that I don’t normally smell nice.
Running his hand slowly across the top of the conference room table and tracing the edges of the paper with his index finger, Emily imagined those strong hands were on her face, with that index finger tracing her jawline to her lips. Suddenly, Emily felt her whole body become hot, and she sipped her water.
A million thoughts began to rush into her mind. This guy is your co-worker and don’t forget a total ass. As hot as you think he is, you have to control yourself.
Snapping out of her silence Emily asked, “So, what do you think?”
Shifting to an upright position, Ethan replied, “I only see the need for a couple of changes, Emily.”
Emily smiled politely feeling relief curl through her thinking she could go home soon and not have to work the weekend.
“Oh, wait,” Ethan scowled. “This is incorrect, totally and completely fucked up.”
Emily leaned over the table to see what had Ethan so worked up. “Emily, tell me why you’re using last year’s percentages for the path to online purchases? That doesn’t help us here and now,” Ethan chided. “These numbers are a lot higher this year.”
Ethan folded his arms across his broad chest while staring at Emily. Fire danced in his eyes as he waited for her to answer. Emily stood there motionless and stared at Ethan blankly. Confusion, anger and fear all coursed through her body. Is Ethan trying to intimidate me?
“I’m…I’m sorry Ethan, this is the numbers report that was given to me by Morgan,” Emily replied, feeling her throat thick with anger and possibly tears.
“I don’t need your excuses, Emily,” he huffed. “And no, it wasn’t. I emailed Morgan the current numbers. Check your records again.”
Her fists balled up as she felt hot tears begin to prick her eyes. There was no way Emily was going to let this egomaniac bully her, causing her to cry like a frightened little girl.
“Just once I wish someone in this damn office could get something right and finished on time. Taking time out of my schedule to do other people’s work is not something I’m fond of doing,” he lectured. A glint of gold flecked in his brown eyes and he ran his hands through hair inhaling sharply.
“Excuse me Ethan, I’ll be right back,” Emily said firmly.
Pivoting on her heel, she walked to the door and turned the corner. Once she got far enough down the darkened hallway, assured that Ethan wouldn’t hear her cries, she sprinted for the stairs. When Emily reached her office she closed the door and leaned against the cool wood trying to calm her jolted nerves. Morgan had left her in such a bind with all of her screw-ups.
Pulling up the email from Morgan, she saw that it was last year’s numbers, but the email was not forwarded from Ethan. Morgan had just attached the wrong copy.
“Fuck me!” Emily blurted loudly. “Why didn’t I fucking catch this mistake?” She was merely yelling for stress release for her own sake into her dimly lit office.
Emily slumped down in her chair and sat there for a moment staring at the email. Replaying the conversation with Ethan over and over in her mind and hearing his grating words wash over her, Emily felt like a scolded child who had done nothing but disappoint her parents. Ethan and Emily were equal colleagues, yet he somehow he seemed far superior in his role with the company than she did.
“Who does Ethan think he is to treat me this way?”
A shudder moved through Emily as she heard the thunder and lightning wickedly cracking outside. She peered out her window and saw the rain coming down in sheets. Emily wrapped her arms around her shoulders and sighed deeply.
Knock…Knock…Knock
“Emily, is everything alright?” Ethan asked softly.
Emily would rather crawl under her desk and hide than face another berating from Ethan Carlson.
Chapter Six:
Amanda
Lying in bed staring at the ceiling Amanda felt restless. She looked at the time. It was nearly one-thirty in the morning. She contemplated reading the latest issue of Maison Bleue Magazine or finishing a chapter in the book she was reading. Flashes of lightening illuminated her bedroom, and seconds later, thunder rumbled in the distance. Startled by the noise Amanda sat up quickly, got out of bed and padded into the living room. Unlocking the sliding glass door to the balcony she felt the spring breeze hit her body. Why was it was warmer now than it was earlier today? That’s funny. Only in the Midwest was running both the air-conditioner and heater in the same day considered completely normal.
She felt cold raindrops sporadically hit her skin like tiny needles. The skyline over Grand Rapids was especially colorful tonight giving it an iridescent glow from the lightening. The intense illuminating flashes and loud thunderous claps reminded Amanda of another stormy May night. A loud bang and jolt of lightening that seemed to be very close to the condo sent Amanda retreating back inside, closing the door behind her.
Crossing the living room, she peeked to see if Daniel was in his room. He was not. She wondered what bar he was in downtown, no doubt dancing the stormy night away. Opening the fridge she pulled out a bottle of coconut water and headed back to her bedroom. Perusing her well assorted collection of books, stemming from literary classics to murder mysteries and a few dirty novels for just plain fun, she saw the purple floral print box located on the top shelf.
Pulling the box down carefully, she slid the top back and started rifling through its contents. There were tons of photos, pictures of her days at Notre Dame and tailgating with friends before the big game. There was one of her standing with her father on the eighteenth green of the golf course at the club in her wedding gown. She sometimes rea
lly missed her father, but he wanted nothing to do with Amanda. All her life, Amanda was the apple of both her mother and father’s eyes. She excelled at so many things, swimming, tennis, volleyball and academics. Amanda was incredibly smart. She would have preferred school to be more social rather than studious, though.
She touched the photo, glossing her finger lightly over the image of her in the dress, remembering the feel of the duchess silk satin. Laughing to herself, she picked up the picture of her and Julie waving sparklers and wearing patriotic yet cheesy light-up Uncle Sam hats from the club’s Fourth of July party. Finally Amanda found it, the photo she had been looking for, the one that shattered her entire world after being uploaded to the Bloomfield Buzz online gossip blog with the caption, “Amanda Ford’s Rainy Night Rendezvous with a Mystery Man.”
The man in the photo was not her then husband Brandon Ford. Nope, it was Andrew Langston. Andrew was the 21-year-old bartender at the country club with whom she started an affair four years ago. How could I have been so careless? Brandon gave me everything I ever wanted and more. Then, she remembered the loneliness she felt during her marriage. Brandon worked nearly every night and sometimes on weekends at the law firm.
Amanda heard the door to the condo open. She quickly leapt off the bed and shut off the light. Sweeping up the box of photos in her arms, she jumped under her covers with them pretending to be asleep. She did not want to be up another two hours listening to Daniel rambling on about all the young guys he met while out dancing. Even though she’d love to go toe to toe with Daniel and tell him about meeting Vince, she knew that she needed her sleep to function properly at work. Stretching out her legs and yawning, she grabbed her phone from her nightstand. The time was 2:10 A.M. She had an alert from Foursquare, Amanda sighed reading the notification. Looks like Ashleigh’s in Detroit again. I miss Detroit.
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