Bailey stared at them, speechless.
“The Pops concert,” Parker said. “They’re having a rock group from the sixties perform. It seems only fitting that Janice and Michael attend.”
Eight
It wasn’t until they’d finished lunch that Bailey noticed what a good time she was having with Parker. They’d sat across the table from each other and chatted like old friends. Bailey had never felt more at ease with him, nor had she ever allowed herself to be more open. Her emotions had undergone a gradual but profound change.
Fear and caution had been replaced by genuine contentment. And by hope.
After lunch they strolled through Union Square tossing breadcrumbs to the greedy pigeons. The early-morning fog had burned away and the sun was out in a rare display of brilliance. The square was filled with tourists, groups of old men and office workers taking an outdoor lunch. Bailey loved Union Square. Being there now, with Parker, seemed especially…fitting. And not just because Janice and Michael did the same thing in chapter six!
He was more relaxed with her, as well. He talked freely about himself, something he’d never done before. He was the oldest of three boys and the only one still unmarried.
“I’m the baby of the family,” Bailey explained. “Pampered and spoiled. Overprotected, I’m afraid. My parents tried hard to dissuade me from moving to California.” She paused.
“What made you leave Oregon?”
Bailey waited for the tightness that always gripped her heart when she thought of Tom, but it didn’t come. It simply wasn’t there anymore.
“Tom,” she admitted, glancing down at the squawking birds, fighting over crumbs.
“He was fiancé number two?” Parker’s hands were locked behind his back as they strolled along the paved pathway.
Bailey couldn’t resist wondering if he’d hidden his hands to keep from touching her. “I met Tom a couple of years after…Paul. He was, is, a junior partner in the law firm where I worked as a paralegal. We’d been dating off and on for several months, nothing serious for either of us. Then we got involved in a case together and ended up spending a lot of time in each other’s company. Within three months we were engaged.”
Parker placed his hand lightly on her shoulder as though to lend her support. She smiled up at him in appreciation. “Actually it doesn’t hurt as much to talk about it now.” Time did heal all wounds, or as she preferred to think, time wounds all heels.
“I’m not sure when he met Sandra,” she continued. “For all I know, they might have been childhood sweethearts. What I do remember is that we were only a few weeks away from the wedding. The invitations were all finished and waiting to be picked up at the printer’s when Tom told me there was someone else.”
“Were you surprised?”
“Shocked. In retrospect, I suppose I should have recognized the signs, but I’d been completely wrapped up in preparing for the wedding—shopping with my bridesmaids for their dresses, arranging for the flowers, things like that. In fact, I was so busy picking out china patterns I didn’t even notice that my fiancé had fallen out of love with me.”
“You make it sound as though it was your fault.”
Bailey shrugged. “In some ways I think it was. I’m willing to admit that now, to see my own faults. But that doesn’t make up for the fact that he was engaged to me and seeing another woman on the sly.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Parker agreed. “What did you say when he told you?” By now, his hand was clasping her shoulder and she was leaning into him. The weight of her humiliation no longer seemed as crushing, but it was still there, and talking about it produced a flood of emotions she hadn’t wanted to face. It was ironic that she could do so now, after all this time, and with another man.
“Have you forgiven him?”
Bailey paused and nudged a fallen leaf with the toe of her shoe. “Yes. Hating him, even disliking him, takes too much energy. He was truly sorry. By the time he talked to me, I think poor Tom was completely and utterly miserable. He tried so hard to avoid doing or saying anything to hurt me. I swear it took him fifteen minutes to get around to telling me he wanted to call off the wedding and another thirty to confess that there was someone else. I remember the sick feeling in my stomach. It was like coming down with a bad case of the flu, having all the symptoms hit me at once.” Her mind returned to that dreadful day and how she’d sat and stared at Tom in shocked disbelief. He’d been so uncomfortable, gazing at his hands, guilt and confusion muffling his voice.
“I didn’t cry,” Bailey recalled. “I wasn’t even angry, at least not at first. I don’t think I felt any emotion.” She gave Parker a chagrined smile. “In retrospect I realize my pride wouldn’t allow it. What I do remember is that I said the most nonsensical things.”
“Like what?”
Bailey’s gaze wandered down the pathway. “I told him I expected him to pay for the invitations. We’d had them embossed with gold, which had been considerably more expensive. Besides, I was already out the money for the wedding dress.”
“Ah, the infamous slightly used wedding dress.”
“It was expensive!”
“I know,” Parker said, his eyes tender. “Actually you were just being practical.”
“I don’t know what I was being. It’s crazy the way the mind works in situations like that. I remember thinking that Paul and Tom must have been acquainted with each other. I was convinced the two of them had plotted together, which was utterly ridiculous.”
“I take it you decided to move to San Francisco after Tom broke the engagement.”
She nodded. “Within a matter of hours I’d given my notice at the law firm and was making plans to move.”
“Why San Francisco?”
“You know,” she said, laughing lightly, “I’m not really sure. I’d visited the area several times over the years and the weather was always rotten. Mark Twain wrote somewhere that the worst winter he ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. I guess the city, with its overcast skies and foggy mornings, suited my mood. I couldn’t have tolerated bright sunny days and moonlit nights in the weeks after I left Oregon.”
“What happened to Tom?”
“What do you mean?” Bailey cocked her head to look up at him, taken aback by the question.
“Did he marry Sandra?”
“Heavens, I don’t know.”
“Weren’t you curious?”
Frankly she hadn’t been. He obviously hadn’t wanted her, and that was the only thing that mattered to Bailey. She’d felt betrayed, humiliated and abandoned. If Tom ever regretted his decision or if things hadn’t worked out between him and Sandra, she didn’t know. She hadn’t stuck around to find out. Furthermore, she wouldn’t have cared, not then, anyway.
She’d wanted out. Out of her job, Out of Oregon. Out of her dull life. If she was going to fall in love, why did it have to be with weak men? Men who couldn’t make up their minds. Men who fell in and out of love, men who were never sure of what they wanted.
Perhaps it was some flaw in her own character that caused her to choose such men. That was the very reason she’d given up on relationships and dating and the opposite sex in general. And she knew it was also why she enjoyed reading romances, why she enjoyed writing them. Romance fiction offered her the happy ending that had been so absent in her own life.
The novels she read and wrote were about men who were real men—strong, traditional, confident men—and everyday women not unlike herself.
She’d been looking for a hero when she stumbled on Parker Davidson. Yes, she could truly say her heart was warming toward him. Warming, nothing! It was on fire and had been for weeks, although she’d refused to acknowledge that until now.
Parker’s dark eyes caressed hers. “I’m glad you moved to the Bay area.”
“So am I.”
“You won’t change your mind, will you?” he asked as they began to walk back. He must have read the confusion in her eyes because he added, “The concert to
night? It’s in honor of Valentine’s Day.”
“No, I’m looking forward to going.” She hadn’t even realized what day this was. Bailey suddenly felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of spending the most romantic evening of the year with Parker Davidson. Although of course it would mean no time to work on Forever Yours…
“Think of the concert as research,” Parker said, grinning down at her.
“I will.” A woman could be blinded by eyes as radiant as Parker’s. They were alight with the sensitivity and strength of his nature.
“Goodbye,” she said reluctantly, lifting her hand in a small wave.
“Until tonight,” Parker said, sounding equally reluctant to part.
“Tonight,” she repeated softly. She’d seen her pain reflected in his eyes when she told him about Tom. He understood what it was to lose someone you loved, regardless of the circumstances. She sensed that in many ways the two of them were alike. During that short walk around Union Square, Bailey had felt a closeness to Parker, a comfortable and open honesty she’d rarely felt with anyone before.
“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said.
“Perfect.” Bailey was convinced he would have kissed her if they hadn’t been standing in such a public place. And she would have let him.
The afternoon flew by. Whereas the morning had been excruciatingly slow, filled with one blunder after another, the hours after her lunch with Parker were trouble free. No sooner had she returned to the office than it seemed time to pack up her things and head for the subway.
True to form, Max was there to greet her when she walked in the door. She set her mail, two bills and an ad for the local supermarket, on the kitchen counter, and quickly fed him. Max seemed mildly surprised at her promptness and stared at his food for several minutes, as though he was hesitant about eating it.
Grumbling that it was impossible to please the dratted cat, Bailey stalked into her bedroom, throwing open the closet door.
For some time she did nothing but stare at the contents. She finally made her decision, a printed dress she’d worn when she was in college. The paisley print was bright and cheerful, the skirt widely pleated. The style was slightly dated, but it was the best she could do. If Parker had given her even a day’s notice she would have gone out and bought something new. Something red in honor of Valentine’s Day.
The seats Parker had purchased for the concert at Civic Center were among the best in the house. They were situated in the middle about fifteen rows from the front.
The music was fabulous. Delightful. Romantic. There were classical pieces she recognized, interspersed with soft rock, and a number of popular tunes and “golden oldies.”
The orchestra was spectacular, and being this close to the stage afforded Bailey an opportunity so special she felt tears of appreciation gather in her eyes more than once. Nothing could ever duplicate a live performance.
The warm generous man in her company made everything perfect. At some point, early in the program, Parker reached for her hand. When Bailey’s heartbeat finally settled down to a normal rate, she felt an emotion she hadn’t experienced in more than a year, not since the day Tom had called off their wedding.
Contentment. Complete and utter contentment.
She closed her eyes to savor the music and when she opened them again, she saw Parker studying her. She smiled shyly and he smiled back. And at that moment, cymbals clanged. Bailey jumped in her seat as though caught doing something illegal. Parker chuckled and raised her hand to his lips, gently brushing her knuckles with a kiss.
The second group, Hairspray, performed after the intermission. Bailey found their music unfamiliar with the exception of two or three classic rock numbers. But the audience responded enthusiastically to the group’s energy and sense of fun. Several people got to their feet, swaying to the music. After a while some couples edged into the aisles and started dancing. Bailey would have liked to join them, but Parker seemed to prefer staying where they were. She couldn’t very well leave him sitting there while she sought out a partner. Especially when the only partner she wanted was right beside her.
Eventually nearly everyone around them rose and moved into the aisle, which meant a lot of awkward shifting for Parker and Bailey. She was convinced they were the only couple in the section not on their feet.
She glanced at Parker, but he seemed oblivious to what was happening around them. At one point she thought she heard him grumble about not being able to see the band because of all those people standing.
“Miss?” An older balding man moved into their nearly empty row and tapped Bailey on the shoulder in an effort to get her attention. He wore his shirt open to the navel and had no less than five pounds of gold draped around his neck. Clearly he’d never left the early seventies. “Would you care to dance?”
“Uh…” Bailey certainly hadn’t been expecting an invitation. She wasn’t entirely confident of the protocol. She’d come with Parker and he might object.
“Go ahead,” Parker said, reassuring her. He actually seemed relieved someone else had asked her. Perhaps he was feeling guilty about not having done so himself, Bailey mused.
She shrugged and stood, glancing his way once more to be sure he didn’t mind. He urged her forward with a wave of his hand.
Bailey was disappointed. She wished with all her heart that it was Parker taking her in his arms. Parker, not some stranger.
“Matt Cooper,” the man with the gold chains said, holding out his hand.
“Bailey York.”
He grinned as he slipped his arm around her waist. “There must be something wrong with your date to leave you sitting there.”
“I don’t think Parker dances.”
It had been a long while since Bailey had danced, and she wasn’t positive she’d even remember how. She needn’t have worried. The space was so limited that she couldn’t move more than a few inches in any direction.
The next song Hairspray performed was an old rock song from the sixties. Matt surprised her by placing two fingers in his mouth and whistling loudly. The piercing sound cut through music, crowd noises and applause. Despite herself, Bailey laughed.
The song was fast-paced and Bailey began swaying her hips and moving to the beat. Before she was sure how it had happened, she was quite a distance from her friend. She found herself standing next to a tall good-looking man about Parker’s age, who was obviously enjoying the group’s performance.
He smiled at Bailey and she smiled shyly back. The next song was another oldie, one written with young lovers in mind and perfect for slow dancing.
Bailey tried to make it down the aisle to Parker’s seat, but the row was empty. Although she glanced all around she couldn’t locate him.
“We might as well,” the good-looking man said, holding out his hands to her. “My partner has taken off for parts unknown.”
“Mine seems to have disappeared, too.” Scanning the crowd, she still couldn’t find Parker but then, the area was so congested it was impossible to see anyone clearly. A little worried, she wondered how they’d ever find each other when the concert was over.
She and her new partner danced two or three dances without ever exchanging names. He twirled her about with an expertise that masterfully disguised her own less-inspired movements. They finished a particularly fast dance, and Bailey fanned her face, flushed from the exertion, with one hand.
When Hairspray introduced another love ballad, it seemed only natural for Bailey to slip into her temporary partner’s arms. He said something and laughed. Bailey hadn’t been able to make out his words, but she grinned back at him. She was about to say something herself when she saw Parker edging toward them, scowling.
“My date’s here,” she said, breaking away from the man who held her. She gave him an apologetic look and he released her with a decided lack of enthusiasm.
“I thought I’d lost you,” she said when Parker made it to her side.
“I think it’s time we left,” he ann
ounced in clipped tones.
Bailey blinked, surprised by his irritation. “But the concert isn’t over yet.” Cutting a path through the horde of dancers would be difficult, perhaps impossible. “Shouldn’t we at least stay until Hairspray is finished?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?”
Parker shoved his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t mind you dancing with that Barry Gibb look-alike, but the next thing I know, you’ve taken off with someone else.”
“I didn’t take off with anyone,” she said, disliking his tone as much as his implication. “We were separated by the crowds.”
“Then you should’ve come back to me.”
“You didn’t honestly expect me to fight my way through this mass of humanity, did you? Can’t you see how crowded the aisles are?”
“I made it to you.”
Bailey sighed, fighting the urge to be sarcastic. And lost. “Do you want a Boy Scout award? I didn’t know they issued them for pushing and shoving.”
Parker’s eyes flashed with resentment. “I didn’t push anyone. I think it would be best if we sat down,” he said, gripping her by the elbow and leading her back into a row, “before you make an even greater spectacle of yourself.”
“A spectacle of myself,” Bailey muttered furiously. “If anyone was a spectacle, it was you! You were the only person in ten rows who wasn’t dancing.”
“I certainly didn’t expect my date to take off with another man.” He sank down in a seat and crossed his arms as though he had no intention of continuing this discussion.
“Your date,” she repeated, struggling to hold on to her temper by clenching her fists. “May I remind you this entire evening was for the purposes of research and nothing more?”
Parker gave a disbelieving snort. “That’s not how I remember it. At the time, you seemed eager enough.” He laughed, a cynical, unpleasant sound. “I’m not the one who chased after you.”
Be My Valentine Page 17
