by Lee, Nadia
Besides, I’m thrilled to pieces that David was on my side the entire time, sticking up for me and letting everyone know he’s on my side. It’s probably part of the act, but I don’t care. I’m going to enjoy the moment.
He threads his way through the bar, not letting go of my hand. I like the warm, slightly rough and callused feel of his strong palm against mine, and I hope he keeps holding on.
“Sorry about that,” he says when we’re away from Shelly. He signals to the bartender for a glass of champagne for me and whiskey for him.
“It’s okay. You warned me about her, so I wasn’t too surprised.” I sip the bubbly slowly, enjoying the fizzy sensation.
He frowns and shakes his head. “It’s like she doesn’t have any pride left.”
“Well… You are quite a catch.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Oh?”
I nod, trying to hide my amusement at his “convince me” face. I’m used to seeing him at work, all coolly professionally and in charge. Seeing this personal side of him… He’s just so adorable. It’s all I can do to quash an urge to press a quick kiss the corner of his lips. Even if we are just role-playing, it’d be a bad idea to get physical, especially when my pulse is starting to grow more erratic, and I’m damn curious about feeling his skin under my mouth, something I haven’t experienced yet. Bet it’s different from his lips. Slightly scratchy…but still warm. Hmm.
“Hey, don’t stop now.” He elbows me playfully. “Keep going.”
I laugh at his shameless fishing. “Well. You’re handsome. That’s definitely important.”
“Anything else? That sounds kinda shallow. Not that being good-looking isn’t a big deal, but still…” He winks.
“Mmm.” I consider, taking another sip. “You’re rich.”
“Yeah, but money comes and goes. There has to be more.” He leans closer.
His breath tickles the delicate skin on my neck. Shivers run through me, as my heart skips a beat. Something hot and fiery sparks in my belly, but it isn’t just physical want. I love this easy, fun side of him… I feel like I can let my guard down because he won’t let anything happen to me. “I don’t know…” I try not to let my lips twitch.
“What else is there after tall, dark and rich?”
“Did you just add ‘tall’ and ‘dark’ to the list?” I say, laughing.
“Well, yeah. I am tall and dark. I don’t need anyone to tell me that.”
“Put ‘conceited’ there, too.”
“Just cheerfully self-aware.”
“Uh-huh. And what does your self-awareness tell you is the next on the list?”
“That I should ask you.”
I smile. He’s so determined to hear it from my own lips. It’s sweet and flattering that he’s waiting for my response like the fate of the world depends on it. And I wish I could freeze the moment, so we could stay like this forever. “You’re sweet and nice, David. One day, you’re going to make some lucky woman really, really happy.” My heart aches because that the person will never be me. But I tell myself it’s okay because he’s making me happy right now, in this moment.
He looks at me oddly, his eyes more serious, then nods. “Thank you. That’s a great compliment.”
I finish the champagne. If a vise weren’t tightening around my heart, I might stay and cajole him into telling me my charms, but I can’t quite force myself. I place the empty glass on the counter. “Excuse me. I need to use the ladies’ room.”
Sighing softly, I head toward the bathroom. Maybe a few minutes of silence and deep breathing will ease the pain in my chest and restore my calm.
The bathrooms are at the end of a long, narrow corridor. It’s not terribly well lit compared to the main bar area, and I blink getting used to the darkness.
Somebody comes out of the shadows. “You bitch!”
Shelly? “Are you doing another bathroom ambush?” I ask, crossing my arms. “I thought you’d left.” I angle my hand so she can’t miss the ring.
Her face twists. “Crazy Clare.”
I freeze, my mouth going dry. How did she know? The kids in my hometown called me that when they learned my mom and her side of the family were insane. They just wanted to be cruel. Panic, shock and adrenaline pump through me, and it’s all I can do to not shove her away and flee.
“Did you tell David about your crazy family?”
The hallway seems to tilt.
Shelly continues. “His mom wants smart, beautiful grandchildren, which is why she was rooting for me and David. But no matter how desperate she is for grandkids, she doesn’t want them from damaged goods like you!” she hisses.
The blood in my veins turns to ice. My hands shake, and I try to grip my arms to stop, but my knees start trembling, too.
She smirks. “Thought so. You didn’t tell him anything, did you?” She studies her manicure. “Despite what you think, I’m not a total bitch. I’ll give you a chance to tell him before Alexandra’s birthday party. Otherwise, I’ll tell David myself. So don’t force my hand, Crazy Clare.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
David
Erin’s looking pale when she comes back from the bathroom. Her eyes are wide and slightly unfocused. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume she was drunk.
“Are you okay?” I ask, peering at her face.
She grows paler. Even her lips look bloodless under the makeup. She blinks a couple of times and starts to shake her head, then changes her mind and nods. “I’m fine. Really.”
“You look like you’re about to faint.”
“Just a migraine,” she mutters.
Uh… What? She was just fine moments ago. Can you develop a migraine that fast?
“Maybe I should go home now,” she says.
“Let me drive you,” I say, not wanting her to get behind a steering wheel. It’s still light out, and light can aggravate the pain. Mom puts on an eye mask and lies down every time she has a migraine.
“No, no.” Erin waves her hand. “I don’t want to bother you. You need to expense this, remember? And I can’t leave my car, so… I’ll be fine.”
My mouth tightens. Why is she being so stubborn when she’s obviously unwell? “What if you get into an accident? Or feel too bad to continue driving?”
“Don’t be so dramatic. I’ll be fine. I promise. Stay here with the team and have fun. I just need to go ho—I mean, your place—and lie down. That’s all.”
She turns and starts walking out. I hand my corporate card to Bart, my right-hand man in marketing. “I need to leave. Enjoy yourselves and charge it to my account.”
“Hope nothing’s wrong,” he says, taking the green AmEx.
I force a smile. “It’s fine. Just a small personal emergency.” I clasp his shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Hey, thank you.” He salutes me with the card.
I head out. Erin’s already in her car. For a woman with a headache, she’s moving awfully fast.
“Erin!” I say. “Wait.”
She starts the engine. Is she ignoring me?
She might’ve not heard you.
Possible. But from the way she’s behaving, I’d also say it’s also very possible she’s just pretending not to hear me.
She takes off. I climb into my Lamborghini and follow. Just what the hell is up? She’s been cold, hot, cold… If she’s really sick, maybe she should go to the hospital. I remember Grandma Terry. She wasn’t feeling well, said it was just a headache…and then she keeled over. Aneurysm. That was scary as hell. And Mom blamed herself for not dragging Grandma Terry to the doctor’s to get checked out.
Not that I think Erin is going to keel over. But she’s very pale. And her eyes couldn’t seem to settle on anything when she came back from the bathroom.
Erin and I park next to each other more or less simultaneously in the garage. We climb out of our cars.
“Maybe you should go to the hospital,” I say, following her into the living room.
She stares at me like I’ve lost my mi
nd. “No.”
“Erin. You’re still really pale.”
“Of course I’m pale. I’m almost always inside. When do I have the time to get a tan?” It’s a poor attempt at joke.
I search her face. Her gaze is steadier now, which is good. But her trying to make light of her condition is annoying the crap out of me. “I’m serious.”
“So am I. I know what’s wrong with me better than anybody. Like I said, I just need to lie down for a bit. You shouldn’t have left the bar.”
“Bart has my card. It’s fine. They’ll have more fun without the boss watching.”
She shakes her head. “I’m just a little stressed, and I haven’t been sleeping well. I’m going to head to bed now. You should go back. Have some fun with everyone. Seriously.”
Then she heads upstairs, her shoes clicking on the hard floor.
I stare after her, then shove my fingers through my hair. A little stress? Can it make her go pale that fast or make her feel bad enough to leave early?
On the other hand, I saw the way her chin and mouth firmed up. She isn’t going to go to the hospital. It’s clear that the more I try to talk about it, the more she’s going to dig her heels in. I don’t want to pull the boss card and order her to go. It’d be a dumb move anyway, since we’re off the clock.
I pour myself a finger of scotch and lean against the kitchen counter. Maybe her stress and insomnia really aren’t that serious. It could be she’s just worried about Grandma’s upcoming birthday party. She really doesn’t have many clothes, and could be thinking about that more than she lets on. Based on her wardrobe, I suspect maybe she doesn’t know exactly what to pick. Otherwise she wouldn’t have work clothes that all look so similar in style and color.
Maybe I should hire her a personal shopper and fashion consultant who can help her pick out some nice items, not just for Alexandra’s birthday party, but to make herself look good. People often feel better when they look their best.
The more I think about it, the more I like the idea. It’ll be my gift. A personal bonus for the huge improvement she’s made at work and especially for speaking up and salvaging the presentation.
Feeling better about having figured that out, I start searching for a suitable candidate for the job. Can’t ask Erin to find me one, after all—this is going to be a surprise.
Chapter Thirty
Erin
After a good night’s sleep, I decide to simply ignore Shelly. The engagement is for three months, and she’s here in the city. David doesn’t take anything Shelly says seriously, and I doubt she’s the type to just call David’s mom and blurt out, “Hey, did you know Erin’s crazy?”
That would be weird. And since Shelly’s been around David and his family for so long, she has to know that would backfire on her with Mrs. Darling. Based on my interactions, I seriously doubt that David’s mom would say, “My gosh, Shelly, thanks for calling me out of the blue to tell me that!”
I reacted badly yesterday. And I feel silly now. If I hadn’t done that, David wouldn’t have left the celebration early, so I should apologize.
When I get ready for work and go downstairs, David’s already on his coffee and checking some stuff on his phone.
“Good morning,” I say with a small smile.
“Morning,” he says, looking up from his phone. “You feeling better?”
“Much. Thank you. And I want to apologize for what happened yesterday.”
He frowns. “Why? If you don’t feel good, you don’t feel good. You can’t control that.”
His concern is making me feel even worse. “I shouldn’t have made you worry like that.”
“If I can’t worry about my fiancée, who can I worry about?”
My breath catches in my throat for a moment as warmth flows through me like sweet honey. He makes it so easy to forget this isn’t real.
This is what you’ve wanted. Don’t let Shelly’s threat ruin the happiness you can derive from the arrangement.
“I also hired a fashion consultant for you,” David adds.
“A…what? But why?” Have I been dressing inappropriately without realizing it? I look down. What I’m wearing is pretty standard business casual. Isn’t it?
“With the party coming up and all, I figured you might want something more than just pencil skirts.”
Shoot. I haven’t been thinking about that. I like pencil skirts because they’re so versatile, but maybe I need something fancier for Alexandra’s party. “You don’t have to hire anybody. I can figure it out,” I say.
“Consider it a reward for yesterday.”
I wish he’d stop talking about that like it was something amazing. I just did what any good assistant would’ve done.
He adds, “She can be your sounding board. Help you expand your wardrobe.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, praying he doesn’t expect me to buy everything this consultant is going to suggest. I don’t have the money to do that. That is to say, I don’t want to cut into my emergency fund to buy clothes.
“Quite.” He smiles. “And don’t worry. She’s going to buy everything you need and charge it to me.”
“No!” I say, horrified.
His eyebrows climb up in his forehead.
“I mean, what if she picks out really expensive stuff?”
“Erin, that’s the whole point. It’s a bonus. What kind of bonus would it be if I asked you to spend your own money?” He grins. “I should’ve realized you were worried about what to wear at the birthday party. But it shouldn’t be something that causes you stress or sleepless nights.”
I give him a weak smile. So that’s how he interpreted yesterday’s events. That isn’t even close to what I was really worried about, but I can’t tell him the truth. If I do, he’ll confront Shelly. And then she’ll tell him what she dug up about my past.
So I continue to smile, vowing never to react to Shelly’s threats ever again.
* * *
David
I’m up earlier than usual on Saturday. I should be more tired than normal after an impromptu business trip to San Mateo yesterday to talk to Joe’s team in person, but my brain’s too wired.
My plan to hire a fashion consultant/shopper failed, sort of. I found the perfect person, but she had a family emergency and couldn’t make it. Erin didn’t show any reaction to that, but she had to have been disappointed.
I would’ve been too if I were her, especially after she smiled so beautifully when I brought it up.
I stare at the portrait of Jan and Matt, then roll out of bed. Staying here is creepy, especially with my cousin and best friend staring at me. I really need to do something about the damn picture.
Erin’s still not up by the time I shower, throw on a comfortable cotton Sweet Darlings T-shirt and shorts and make it downstairs to the kitchen. After grabbing a mug of coffee, I start frying up some bacon. It’s my way of making up for the fact that Erin didn’t get to claim her bonus. If I were as culinarily talented as my mom, I’d also whip up some French toast, but I know my limitations.
Soon Erin comes down the stairs. She’s in a cream-colored scoop-neck top, a gray skirt and Mary Janes. What the… Why is she dressed like she’s about to head to the office?
“Good morning, David,” she says with a small smile.
“Morning, Erin. I left you some coffee there.”
“Thanks.” She comes into the kitchen to grab a mug.
“You going somewhere?” I ask, laying the cooked bacon strips on paper towels.
“Huh?” She takes a sip of her coffee. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“You’re dressed like you have a meeting at the office or something.” And as far as I know, there aren’t any meetings or urgent projects. Not in marketing, anyway. Some other department better not be trying to get her to work this weekend. Otherwise, I’m having a nasty chat with whoever’s in charge.
She looks down at her outfit. “Oh. No. I’m not… I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yo
u know, this is your home, too. You can dress comfortably.” I should’ve told her this earlier. She hates to presume.
“I know, but it’s okay. I can’t lounge around in nothing but pajamas all day long. I’m a little weird that way.”
Well, yeah. I can name a lot of people who like nothing better than spending the day in pajamas, including my own parents, but I know how lacking Erin’s closet is. Hopefully, the shopper can reschedule soon, so Erin will have something more casual to relax in at home.
“Want some bacon?” I ask. “I generally only have bacon for breakfast on weekends. Gotta enjoy myself when I can.” If I were home, Mom would’ve made a huge platter of French toast…but also forced me to eat my greens. For some reason, she’s a firm believer of eating vegetables for breakfast. The first meal of the day should be as much animal protein and starchy carbs as you can cram into your mouth, with maybe a piece of fruit to be healthy. Plenty of time for the green stuff after a person’s fully awake.
“Yeah, sure. Bacon is great.” Erin filches a strip off the paper towels and nibbles on it.
I take one too, but unlike her, I munch on it with open greed. Bacon is at its best when you gobble it with gusto. And I like that she’s relaxed and at ease. And doesn’t seem too upset about the shopper canceling.
“By the way…” She swallows her bite and takes a sip of coffee. “Shelly’s not invited to Alexandra’s birthday party, is she?”
“Huh? Of course not.” I scowl, wondering if Mom said something to Erin. “Why? Even if she were, I’d ask Grandma to disinvite her.”
Erin’s neck and shoulders visibly relax. “Okay. Good. Just making sure, because you said her mom and your mom are close.”
“Grandma usually invites family and a few select friends for her birthday. Shelly doesn’t know her well enough to qualify. She came to a few parties in the past, but it was because we were dating.” She always tried to ingratiate herself with my grandmother, except Grandma was never interested. Probably because she could see through Shelly’s phony carapace.
The intercom buzzes. Erin lights up. “Must be my stuff!”
