by Lyz Kelley
She savored a tangy spoonful of sorbet while digesting his revelation. “But you remembered me after all this time?”
“Who could forget such a stunning face?” He shrugged.
Her eyes flashed with a memory. “I remember now. Your dad pledged a million dollars to New York General’s children’s hospital.
“The money came from the Carver Trust, but yes, he did.”
“And Valerie commented about how surprised she was to see your family there, after your sister…” She leaned in. “I read in the news that your sister had been kidnapped. I couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been to be there that night while McKenzie was still missing.”
“You’re right. It was hard. It took months for me to forgive my parents for forcing me to join them. Nothing was as important as being out looking for McKenzie and the bastard who took her.”
“I’m glad they found her, and that’s she’s okay.”
She’s alive, but not living. He straightened the napkin on his lap and shifted uneasily. “Me too. But I’m not sure she’s okay. She’s still afraid to leave her apartment. I try to help, but—”
“You being there is all she cares about. A trauma like that takes time to heal.”
If only he’d been there for Kirsten, she might still be alive. Since her death he’d been numb, hadn’t felt anything, really. Hadn’t wanted to. He slid his hand over Courtney’s to connect.
Who was he kidding? He didn’t just want to touch. He wanted to feel her beneath him, to revel in the caress of her breath against his skin.
“Your sister is why you got involved with Empower House, isn’t she?”
He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Something like that.”
“If you’re blaming yourself, don’t. I felt guilty about my mother’s car accident for years. She was rushing to pick me up from soccer practice, and just moments before the crash she texted me about running late, then crossed the center median and hit another car head-on. Both she and the other driver were killed.
“I believed if she hadn’t texted me...or if only she hadn’t been in a hurry...or If I had joined the hockey league my brothers played in instead of soccer...she wouldn’t have needed to be so many places at once. I beat myself up for years. I didn’t cause my mother’s accident any more than you allowed your sister to be kidnapped.”
Weston breathed through the tension, trying to allow the guilt to slip away, but remorse stayed anchored in place. She didn’t know the whole story—she couldn’t know, because the family hid the facts from the public.
“What happened after the accident?”
“Nothing happened.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s the weird thing. Dad kept working, my brothers played their sports, and we ignored the big, gaping hole in our lives. My dad pretended everything was normal. We didn’t talk about mom, but as the youngest and the only female in the family, I needed her more than they did. I hated her for leaving us. I hated not having someone to talk to, so I retreated into the world of books and fell in love with fiction.”
“Which explains why you were an English major.”
The corners of her mouth curled up. “I had dreams of writing the world’s greatest novel.”
Ah…there was the gleam of joy he adored. “What happened? Why didn’t you write?” She tried to pull away, but he held on, caressing in smooth, slow strokes. “There’s no need to tell me if you don’t want.”
“No. I’d like you to know. It’s just hard to talk about how naïve I was back then.” She turned her palm over, and he drew tiny circles. “I started writing my book, but got stuck and distracted by writing stories for the school newspaper. The senior editor liked my work and assigned me to interview Senator Morgan. When I went to his home to interview him, I again met his son Dave. We originally met at a political gala, and I had seen him on campus. We both went to Cornell.”
I know this bastard. And now I have a name. “And?” he prompted.
“And…” she swallowed. “After the interview, Dave stopped me in the hall and asked me out. He was so charming and sweet, and we saw each other on and off for about three months. Little did I know he was busy dating dozens of others while I worked and attended class. One night he invited me over to his apartment. I was in love, so there was no reason to think he’d ever drug my drink. When I woke up the next morning, there were limp, used condoms scattered all over the floor and bruises all over my body.”
He made a mental note to ensure the Carvers’ dealings with Senator Morgan and his family going forward were limited. “Sounds like date rape to me. Did you go to the police?”
“And tell them what? I could only remember bits and pieces of the night. Besides, who would believe the word of a girl from the poor side of town against the word of a senator’s son?
“Even worse, my dad challenged me about telling the truth. He assumed I was making up the story to get attention. Like I would do that. And as soon as my brothers found out, they asked me not to say anything. Rumor around school suggested several of the guys who raped me were stars on the school hockey team. If the players got suspended, then the team wouldn’t be able to compete in the Eastern Athletic College Conference. My oldest brother didn’t want to jeopardize his NHL draft position.”
The self-centered pricks. Who does that to a family member? “What happened to Dave?”
“Nothing. He’s a senator’s son. Although a couple of months later, he had a black eye. One of my brothers must have tuned him up.”
Weston’s teeth ached from clenching his jaw. “Your dad was wrong not to support you.”
“Yeah, well, he didn’t. Not in college. Not about this. Not about life. After Mom died, he just checked out. In high school I had all these big dreams. Mom and I used to do a girls’ pizza night, and we’d talk for hours about makeup, clothes, boys. After Mom died everything changed. I changed. I realized there were much bigger things to worry about.”
Weston waved off the approaching server. “What were your dreams?”
“I used to dream about traveling half the year and renting a small urban space to write articles or stories the other half. Or maybe spending lazy Saturday mornings meeting friends for breakfast, taking naps in the afternoon, cooking for the love of my life in the evenings. Now I’ve found what I was meant to do.”
“Running women’s shelters?”
“Be the voice for those who don’t understand that they have one.”
A strong conviction settled in his gut. “And that’s the reason I want you to run Empower House. No amount of education can replace passion. You connect with others. You understand what survivors need. And you work at something until the job is done, no matter the challenge.”
“Yeah, but running an organization the size of Empower House takes a kind of experience I don’t have.”
“Didn’t you work in a shelter network in New Jersey? And weren’t you the one who told me your shelter runs more efficiently than any other shelter in Manhattan?”
“I did, but—”
“Nope. No buts. When I make business decisions, I’ve gotten pretty good at setting my personal biases aside and focusing on what will best serve those I’m trying to help. Sometimes the decisions I make won’t provide the biggest return on investment in the short term, but I’m banking on the organization over time being richly rewarded.” He leaned closer. “Since taking over the running of Empower House, I couldn’t help but look around to see what other people are doing. The women who pass through your house are finding their way into the mainstream. In fact, Carver International has hired a few of your ladies. They’re the reason I accepted Valerie’s invitations to come check out your shelter.”
“Wow.” Her eyes brightened with mirth. “I had no idea you’ve been stalking me.”
He laughed. “I wouldn’t call it stalking. It’s more like knowing my competition. Not that we’re competing. I hire the best, Courtney. Experienced or not, you would always serve the women who come to you first,
before helping yourself.”
“I love my job. Don’t get me wrong. There are days I want to shake the women who’ve stayed too long in a bad situation, but I get it. Domestic abuse has been happening for as long as there have been men and women. I’m glad we’re starting the conversation.”
“Men can be part of the solution. I’m concerned about the us-versus-them mentality.”
“Collaboration would be nice, but there’s some healing that needs to happen first.” She pulled back and crossed her arms, looking uncomfortable. “I saw the tape of your brother on TV. Do you still maintain your brother’s innocent?”
The muscles along his backbone stiffened.
He made her uncomfortable, so she shifted topics to return the favor. He’d experienced the phenomenon before, and worked to dissolve the tension. “You will need to trust me when I tell you my brother didn’t touch that woman.”
“When I confronted Dave Morgan, he proclaimed his innocence to everyone who would listen, and made me out to be the liar. He’d do it again today if he got the chance.”
“Liam is not Dave Morgan, and he didn’t touch Jessica Pallson. When I have all the facts, I guarantee there will be several people doing jail time, and Liam will not be one of them.”
“He’s your brother, and you are obligated to defend him, but—”
“We won’t be able to resolve this discussion tonight. Time will reveal the facts.” He twisted his wrist. “It’s late. I should get you home.” He pushed his chair back and stood, reaching for his phone. “Mike, would you bring the car around?” The waiter appeared. “Please have the bill charged to the Carver account.”
“Yes, Mr. Carver.”
Courtney stood and reached for his forearm. “Wait. I didn’t mean to be rude. I want to ensure you are mentally prepared for the worst-case scenario. It’s me wearing my social worker hat. I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for? You stated your opinion.” He stared until she released her grasp.
“I’m sorry for always assuming the worst in men.”
Ahhh. There it is. Pure honesty. The knot of tension at the base of his neck released.
That’s what attracted him to her. There wasn’t a hidden agenda. Courtney Kramer was all out there. She held nothing back. Not judgment. Not passion. Not fear. And, when the time came, not love.
He pressed his lips together and crammed his hands in his pockets to avoid touching her. Otherwise he’d have Mike drive them back to his apartment, where he’d show her how a real man treated women.
“Shall we?” Weston swept his free arm toward the exit.
“Weston.” She waited for him to give her his full attention. “I hope the evidence proves your brother innocent, for both your sake and mine. Women who make false claims help no one.”
He’d let out a breath, and his tension eased. He hadn’t expected her to concede, but he appreciated the effort it had taken for her to see his side. “I hope so too.”
He held out his hand, and she accepted his kind gesture. “Here’s to finding the truth.”
She gave his shoulder an affectionate bump. “Here’s to making New York safer for everyone.”
He ran his knuckles over her soft skin. “Touché, Ms. Kramer.”
Chapter 15
“In here.” Linda waved to Courtney as soon as she climbed to the top of Weston’s third floor landing.
Courtney lifted the canvas bags to the counter. “I hope you’re all hungry.” She set out several glass containers of vegetables and dips. “The ladies at the shelter wanted to give you a little something to thank you for organizing the fundraiser.”
Haley peeked in the second bag. “Did you grow all this?”
“The shelter garden was my idea, but everyone pitches in to help. There’s something therapeutic about planting and watching your food thrive. Plus, gardening helps those staying in the house focus on something other than their troubles.”
“Plus, growing stuff helps with the food bill.” Haley grabbed a slice of banana pepper and a half dozen white cherry tomatoes and popped them in her mouth. “Oh, my. These are yum.”
The fresh tang of warm sourdough bread from the local street market circulated the modern kitchen. Her taste buds woke up and wanted to be fed. Courtney resisted the urge to rip off a piece of the warm loaf on the way over, but now the loaf round was fair game.
“Everyone’s here. Good.” Weston’s voice boomed into the kitchen.
Her heart jumped like he’d caught her stealing the chocolate stash. She remembered the hot, sensual kiss he’d given her after dinner. Her lips had sizzled for hours. “Hey,” she said, aware of how just the sight of him excited all her girly bits.
He moved closer. “Is everything all right?”
Oh, maaannn. He looked so yummy in his navy suit with a buttercream shirt and dark, textured tie.
“I was trying to figure out where to look for a spreading knife. I stopped at the market this morning for freshly churned butter.”
He opened a cupboard, then another, and another.
“You don’t know where you keep the knives?”
He glanced over his shoulder, the tips of his ears turning bright red. “I entertain clients most nights, and it’s easier to microwave leftovers than keep a refrigerator stocked with food.” He opened a door and disappeared.
Curious, she followed.
“Here they are.” Weston selected the specialty knife from a drawer in the giant pantry. True to his statement, there was very little in the way of foodstuffs in the small room. If she could afford this apartment, every shelf would be crammed full of boxes and cans, and she’d have dinner parties for friends twice a week—at least.
He moved closer and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Hey, beautiful. You smell all fresh and fruity.”
His scrumptious lips against her skin rocked her senses. Mmmm. “It’s my shampoo, but I’ll create a reminder to slather it all over myself before I come over next time.”
“Delicious idea.” His eyes scanned her face. “I sense something’s wrong. Talk to me.”
She glanced at the shelves again. “Why do I get the impression that you don’t live here? You say this is your home, but you don’t seem to know where things are kept, and everything seems too manicured to suit your personality. It’s like this place is what you want people to see, but I don’t believe it’s the real you. Why is that?”
He set the knife aside and settled a hand on each side of her face. “Very perceptive, Ms. Kramer.” He kissed her on the tip of the nose, then released her. “My mother decorated this house in her style. She wanted to create a home befitting a global executive’s tastes. I don’t care for white walls.”
“Each floor is decorated in black and white with only pops of color. Why don’t you change the style?”
“I’ve never found the time to work with a designer. When I started working, I traveled a lot because Dad wanted me to intern at every one of our global offices and manufacturing plants. I was never home, so the decor didn’t matter.” He leaned in closer to nuzzle her neck. “I’m up for new ideas. How would you redecorate this house?”
Heat flared from her core to her fingers and toes, and she leaned closer to chase the lovely sensation, the question forgotten. He retaliated by latching onto her lips. His unexpected reaction happened so fast she didn’t have time to react or relish the sensation. His hand slid around her waist, then down to her butt and pressed her closer, where his response left no question about what he was feeling.
She groaned...or was the sound coming from him? She pressed her hips forward.
“Hey, you two, enough hanky-panky in the pantry. We have work to do.”
A different kind of heat spread up her neck. She grabbed the knife and rushed out of the small room. “Found the knife,” she held up the utensil as proof.
Weston’s soft chuckle behind her didn’t help. Damn him.
Haley looked up from her computer screen perched on the opposite end of the
kitchen island. “Hey, boss. Linda and I just received the unedited copy of Liam’s videotape. Sure enough, the tape proves his innocence.”
“Sure as hell took long enough,” Weston went over to look at Haley’s computer.
“Wait. What video?” Courtney stared at Haley, wanting her to explain.
“Linda and I suggest we hold a press conference—”
“No press.” Weston’s crisp reply made each person freeze for a tenth of a second to gauge his mood. “Reporters have a way of twisting facts to fit their own agendas,” he clarified.
“But Weston,” Linda’s tone turned conciliatory. “That might not be prudent in this situation. The press released an altered tape, which has been viewed over a million times. The public deserves the truth. Besides, the fundraiser for Empower will suffer if the truth isn’t told.”
“I’ll make up the difference. No press.”
Linda looked at Haley and held up her hands in defeat.
Haley leaned her elbows against the tabletop. “What if—”
“No!” Weston snapped.
“May I suggest…” Courtney grabbed two bowls of vegetables and walked toward the far end of the island to give her time to carefully consider how to say what she wanted to convey. “May I suggest you hear what Haley has to say before you shoot it down? She might have a point you haven’t considered. Otherwise, why have so many smart people around if you make all the decisions yourself?”
Both Haley and Linda twisted around on their high-top barstools to look at her, their expressions shocked but supportive.
Courtney leaned over to set the bowls on the marble and grabbed onto the backs of Linda and Haley’s barstools for support. “I don’t fully understand the impact of releasing this video, but if it will help clear the way to get more donations, we should explore the options.”
“Show her the video.” Weston’s pinched expression and sour glare didn’t ease the tension in the room.
Haley re-launched the video player from the start of the clip.
The image showed Liam getting on an empty elevator. At the last second, Liam thrust his briefcase between the closing doors, forcing the heavy metal doors to reopen. A young woman got on and said something the video didn’t quite pick up. Liam greeted the woman and then stepped back to scroll through his phone. A few seconds passed, and then the young woman backed into Liam for no clear reason. He reached to steady her, but both his hands were full. The door opened, and Jessica sauntered out of the elevator with a wicked smile on her face.