He’d wanted to go over and give her a hug, support her, show her she wasn’t alone.
But Isla had pointed out Elle had said she was fine and if he’d disrespected her wishes, he’d be like her ex, forcing her to suit his needs.
Sometimes being logical sucked.
That morning he had been rushed to death. He was due to fly to California next week with Ophelia and had all those last-minute details to confirm. She was appearing on a talk show, doing an exclusive performance for a radio station and a hundred other general promotional things. Not for the first time, he considered whether he should hire a marketing assistant, but he knew he’d double check everything himself to make sure it was done the way he needed it done anyway, so it would be a waste of time.
At lunch he gave into his urge and Googled Carter and California. Perhaps he could find something about Elle’s family for her. If he could show her they were worried and missing her, she’d definitely call them.
As the search results appeared he sighed. It was too much to hope there would only be a few. Thousands of names in the phone directory and too many on social media to narrow down based on a surname. He had no idea what her parents did for a living or what their names were.
But she had an older brother. She’d mentioned his name at Libby’s dinner, but he couldn’t remember.
He dialed Imogen’s number.
“Hey, Shorty, do you remember what Elle said her brother’s name is?” he asked when she answered.
“Give me a second,” Imogen said. She paused, then asked, “What are you planning?”
George thought fast. “Nothing. I just don’t want to look like I wasn’t paying attention.”
Imogen laughed. “It was a J name. Something common, not John or Jason …”
“James,” George said as he remembered.
“Yes, that’s it.”
“Thanks, I owe you one.”
“Hey, you’re babysitting Toby so we can take Elle out on the town. I think that makes up for it.”
He grinned. “All right.” Elle had asked him during the week to babysit after all.
He hung up and typed James Carter into the social media search engine. He scrolled through the names, discarding those who were of the wrong age bracket or ethnicity. There were only three that fit. One was a graphic designer, one was a fire fighter and the last was a teacher.
The graphic designer’s profile was clear and George studied the picture. Was he being overly hopeful, or did the designer have the same smile as Elle? The profile didn’t mention family, just awards he’d won and what he liked to do in his spare time.
Should he send the guy an email and ask?
The worst that could happen was the guy didn’t answer, but it could be Elle’s brother and George knew she’d love to be reunited with him. George could scout this guy out, make sure he wasn’t harboring any ill feelings for Elle and then organize for him to fly to Houston. Elle would love it, he was sure.
Decision made, he typed the email.
***
The retail gods had been kind to Elle that week and she’d been flat out. What that meant was she didn’t remember she wanted to search for her family until she was on her way home. She could hardly drag Toby back to the café to wait while she searched. It wouldn’t be fair to him.
And if she was honest with herself, the whole idea made her feel so vulnerable – she wanted privacy in case she failed.
Anyway she didn’t have time to dwell on it now. If she was going to be ready in time for her girls’ night, she had to shower and get dressed.
She’d managed to get Toby to clear away his toys in the living area and he was so excited about having a boys’ night with George that he’d been bouncing around singing since they got home.
“Toby, quieten down or you’ll have Nora over here complaining,” Elle said as he started on the chorus of his favorite song. Unfortunately they were the only words he knew and it had been like a song stuck on repeat for the last ten minutes. “I’m going to take a shower. You need to get into your pajamas before George arrives.”
“OK!” He raced into his bedroom, still singing.
George didn’t know what he was in for.
Checking the time, she showered and stood in her bedroom with her towel wrapped around her and examined her wardrobe.
She had no idea what to wear.
Was the girls’ night casual – jeans and a nice top? Or was it fancy – a stylish dress and heels?
It didn’t really matter either way, because she had neither a nice top nor a stylish dress.
When she’d left Dean, she’d left with the clothes on her back and a couple hundred dollars. The women’s refuge had given her some clothes – basics like jeans and T-shirts, and she’d bought a few things as she’d needed them, but she’d had no need for going-out clothes.
And she’d been too busy in the café to buy something during the week.
What was she going to do?
There was a knock on the door.
“I’ll get it!” Toby yelled.
Damn. It had to be George. “Check who it is before you open the door,” she called after her son, hoping he would listen.
She had to throw something on because George couldn’t find her in a towel.
George’s voice sounded in the hallway. “Where’s your mom?”
“I’ll be right out,” she yelled, frantically pulling on a clean pair of jeans.
The voices came closer and she adjusted her towel, took a step toward the door to close it – and came face to face with George.
“Oh, sorry,” he said as he saw her state of undress. He turned but his eyes lingered on her, absorbing everything, and her body flushed.
“I won’t be long,” she said, pushing them both out of the door and closing it behind them.
She shook the towel, fanning herself.
Holy hell the man could start a forest fire with that much heat.
Never before had a man caused desire to shoot through her with a single look.
She breathed out, dropped the towel, and dressed quickly. She decided on jeans and the white shirt she’d bought for the loan interview. Slipping her feet into the sensible black heels she’d bought for the same interview, she hurried across the hallway to the bathroom to do her hair and makeup.
George and Toby’s voices were coming from Toby’s room. Her son was explaining to George how foaling worked on the farm.
“– and then plop, out comes the baby, easy peasy.”
Elle grinned at his simplistic explanation. He’d never actually witnessed the foaling take place, but had heard about it from his Memah. He’d get a real shock if he saw what really happened.
She finished her makeup and checked the time. Five minutes.
“Toby, I need to tell George a few things,” she said as she walked into his bedroom.
Toby looked up. “Wow, you look real pretty, Mom.”
“She sure does,” George agreed.
Elle smiled. “Thank you, Toby-boy. Now follow me.”
She led the way into the kitchen and showed George the spaghetti sauce she’d prepared the night before. “The pasta is in the pantry.”
“Got it.”
“Bed time for Toby can be seven-thirty tonight.”
“Yippee!”
Elle laughed at Toby’s exuberance. It was only a half hour extra. “You’ve got my cell phone, so call me if there’s any problem. Nora is next door if you need anything.”
“We’ll be fine, Elle,” George said. He was calm and confident.
There was a knock on the door. “That will be Imogen,” Elle said and went to answer it.
Imogen stood at the door, absolutely stunning in a pastel blue dress that fit snuggly and fell to just above her knees. She was wearing a pair of black stilettos that rivaled the Eiffel Tower in height and a gorgeous pair of sparkling diamond earrings.
Elle’s stomach dropped and her spirits fell. She was completely underdressed. There was
no way she could go out dressed as she was. She’d look like the poor cousin next to this gorgeous woman.
She forced back her disappointment. It was her own fault really. She should have bought something to wear during the week.
Or refused the invitation. Nothing she could afford would rival this.
“Hi. You look gorgeous,” Imogen said. “I love what you’ve done with your hair. Are you ready to go?”
Imogen was being kind – Elle knew that. “I ah … Maybe not.” How could she possibly go out as she was? Forcing herself to be casual, she shrugged. “I don’t have anything as nice as you to wear and well, they might not let me in wherever we go.” Her cheeks burned.
“Nonsense. You’re casual chic. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Libby and Piper are both wearing jeans as well.”
The parking lot wasn’t visible from Elle’s door so she couldn’t check, though she was almost sure Imogen wouldn’t lie. “Are you sure?” The last thing she wanted was to be self-conscious all night. She’d never enjoy herself.
“Of course. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” Imogen beamed at her and tugged her hand. “Say goodbye and let’s go.”
Imogen’s enthusiasm was infectious, but Elle wasn’t entirely convinced. She sucked in a deep breath. She’d been looking forward to this too and she shouldn’t let her lack of fancy clothing stop her. Turning, Elle gave Toby a hug. “Be good for George, all right?”
“Yes, Mom.”
She turned to George. “Call me at any time.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll be fine. After dinner we’re going to build ourselves a corral and fill it.” He winked at her.
Not entirely sure that was a good thing, she waved goodbye and followed Imogen down to the car.
No, not car – to the limousine.
Elle gaped at the sleek, black limo parked in the parking lot of her apartment building. The back window rolled down as they walked toward it and Piper stuck her head out.
“Hi! Hurry up, we’ve got places to be, food to eat and music to dance to.”
Imogen laughed.
Where were they going? Was she going to have to spend a lot of money on this night out? She didn’t have a whole lot – nothing saved and she only took enough money out of the business earnings to make it through the next week. She hadn’t calculated for an expensive girls’ night.
Imogen was the daughter of a fashion mogul, and Libby was a bestselling author and wife to Kent Downer who probably never had to consider price when going out. But Piper was a journalist, and single – she probably just had her salary. Surely they’d make sure it was within her budget. Elle hoped so.
She slid into the car and greeted Piper and Libby, who were both wearing more casual attire. She sighed in relief and settled in.
“Where are we going to?” she asked.
“We’re going to the Wooden Spoon,” Libby announced, naming the most expensive restaurant in Houston.
Elle’s mouth dropped open.
“It’s my treat. We’re celebrating,” Libby said.
“Celebrating what?” Piper asked.
Libby paused, a big grin on her face. “I’ve been offered another four-book contract – they want more of the Jessop Chronicles. And I’ve sold the movie option for the first book to Hollywood.”
Imogen and Piper both squealed in delight.
It sounded like a big deal and Elle was happy for her. “Congratulations!”
“Thanks. I’m so excited. I know movie options rarely actually end up with a movie being made, but the fact someone is considering it is amazing.”
“What did Adrian say?” Imogen asked.
“He’s stoked. We had our own celebration.” Libby blushed.
“This is definitely cause for celebration.” Piper uncorked the bottle of champagne that was chilling and poured a flute full, handing it to Libby and then pouring them each a glass.
“To Libby. The best damn author there is,” she said, raising her glass high.
“To Libby,” Imogen and Elle echoed.
Elle took a sip of the sparkling wine. She’d not drunk a lot of alcohol because Dean said it messed with his creativity. The drink was light, a little bit fruity, and the bubbles danced along her tongue.
She could get used to it.
The limousine pulled up to the restaurant and the driver opened the door. They all poured out and into the restaurant. The maître d' met them at the door and took them straight over to their table, which was in a discreet corner.
The furnishing of the restaurant belied its name. The only word that came to Elle’s mind was sumptuous. Everything was classy: there had to be a lot of money involved to make everything so gorgeous.
The flooring was a plush carpet that cushioned Elle’s steps as she walked, the tables were covered in a white so sharp it would have reflected the lighting if it had been any brighter. The walls were painted in a gorgeous light earthy tone and there were a few large pieces of Native American artwork on them. The overall ambience was one of comfort and good taste.
It was still relatively early and there were only a few diners already seated, but Elle noted they were a mixture of people who had dressed up in their finest and those who were as casual as she was. Both types of diners fit perfectly in the restaurant.
The tension that had been hovering since she’d opened the door to Imogen melted away.
She slid into a chair next to Imogen and across from Piper.
The waiter arrived to pour them all water and to explain the specials of the night. Imogen and Piper argued over what to drink and in the end ordered two bottles of wine for them to share.
Elle perused the menu and inhaled sharply when she saw the prices. You only came here if you could afford it.
She couldn’t comprehend having so much money.
Still it wasn’t right to take advantage of it. She didn’t know these women very well and they’d been very kind to invite her out with them. She’d get an appetizer and say she wasn’t very hungry.
“I’ve heard such amazing things about this restaurant,” Piper said. “The food critic at the paper has been once and he didn’t stop talking about it for days.”
“The chef’s a bit of a recluse,” Imogen said. “He’s about our age and he’s a genius. Papa tried to get him out front so he could thank him for a meal and he refused.”
“George has met him,” Libby told her. “We had a meal here a few months ago and he walked into the kitchen to speak to him. He’s the brother of one of George’s artists. Apparently he’s very nice.”
Elle hadn’t paid much attention to the restaurant when she was researching options for her bookstore café because it hadn’t been within the realm of what she wanted to do, but she had read a glowing review of it in the newspaper. The food was a fusion of all things Texas: barbeque, Mexican and Native American. She couldn’t wait to try it.
The waiter arrived with the wine and Imogen went through the tasting process. Elle was glad she was with them, because otherwise she’d have no idea what to do. It was a world she hadn’t lived in since she was in California, and then she’d been under age and never drunk any wine.
When the waiter was gone, they discussed what they were going to eat.
“The fajitas here are out of this world,” Imogen said. “I don’t know what he does with them but they make your taste buds party.”
“I had the ribs and they melted in my mouth,” Libby told them.
There were so many delicious-sounding meals on the menu, but Elle would go with the cheapest thing. She wasn’t going to take advantage of Libby’s generosity.
When the waiter returned she ordered her appetizer along with the others. When they ordered entrées as well she said, “I don’t need anything else, thank you.”
Piper looked at her. “You can’t just have an appetizer. They’re not that big.”
“I ate a lot at the café,” Elle lied.
Piper examined her, her gaze direct and searching, an
d Elle itched to look away, but she held the other woman’s gaze.
“Libby can afford it,” Piper said. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be eating either.”
Elle blushed. How had Piper known?
“Of course I can,” Libby said. “I know what it’s like to have next to nothing. When I met Adrian, I was so desperate to pay my rent I worked as his nanny. Now, while I’m not a big spender, I do like to treat myself and my friends from time to time.”
Elle was conscious of the waiter still standing there listening. “You barely know me.”
“I knew you were one of us from the moment George brought you to the barbeque,” Libby said. “It’s the first time he’s ever invited a woman to our place, and that means you’re someone special.”
Elle stared at her. She’d had no idea. “But we’re just friends.” She pushed aside thoughts of their kiss.
“Honey, I’ve seen you two together. It’s more than that,” Imogen said.
“What do you like on the menu?” Piper asked.
Elle wavered, but the waiter was waiting and she got the feeling the girls wouldn’t let up. She pointed to a dish that sounded amazing.
The waiter smiled and left.
“Now, I want to know, what is happening between you and George?” Piper asked. It was said in a friendly way, but Piper was expecting an answer. She grinned at Elle and Elle’s annoyance melted away.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you like him?” Piper continued.
“Yes, he’s very nice.” Elle winced at the word. While she liked these women, she wasn’t sure if everything she said would be reported back to George.
“Do you trust him?” Piper asked.
“Of course she does,” Libby said. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be babysitting Toby.”
Piper opened her mouth to ask another question.
“Piper, we didn’t invite Elle with us to give her the third degree,” Imogen said.
Piper smiled. “Sorry, it’s the reporter in me.”
“Libby, I want to hear every detail about this Hollywood deal,” Imogen said.
“Oh, yes,” Piper agreed.
Elle was relieved the spotlight was off her and she settled back to listen.
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