Diana gave her a long, dubious stare. “You seem awfully sure about that.”
Louisa settled back into her chair. “He’s a grown man. He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.”
Diana’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say anything more.
Marcel liked the way Diana’s eyes sparked with suspicion and even the rush of color to her cheeks whenever she was angry or embarrassed. Though he’d only seen those emotions a few times in their short history together, each one was memorable.
He watched as she now returned her gaze to the passing scenery outside her window. He even experienced an incredible urge to reach over and pull the elastic band from her hair and watch it tumble loose.
In Marcel’s large dictionary of women, he decided that Diana Guy’s picture belonged next to the word cute. She didn’t overpower you by having too much of one thing. No gigantic silicone twins like Nora Gibson in A&R, nor did she have too much junk in her trunk like Erin Hall in accounting.
Everything on Diana came in a nice cute package. Frowning, he wondered why a man hadn’t grabbed her up by now. Especially since he could easily see her surrounded by children.
The limo turned and Marcel read a whitewashed sign for the Gables Apartments. Knowing Diana’s salary, Marcel was more than surprised at the fact that she didn’t actually own a home.
“Well, here we are,” Lou said, sighing.
Diana quickly gathered their things. “Thanks again for the ride, Mr. Taylor. I really appreciate it.”
He stiffened. “You know, you can call me Marcel every once in a while.”
She smiled and then glanced up at Charlie when the door opened.
Lou gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm and whispered, “She’s just a little stressed tonight. It’s not you.”
Relieved, he nodded and followed them out of the limo. “Well, it was certainly nice to meet you, Lou. I hope our paths cross again soon.” He leaned down and kissed the back of her hand.
“Be careful what you ask for,” she said with a teasing lilt.
“If you’re finished flirting, Nana, let’s get you inside and into bed.”
Then, like a silver-screen goddess, Louisa swooned.
“Nana!”
Marcel’s keen reflexes kicked into gear and he caught her before she hit the ground. “I got her.”
Charlie rushed to give him a helping hand.
Fear plastered Diana’s features. “Maybe we should take her to the hospital.”
“No, no,” Lou moaned and clutched Marcel’s arm. “Just help me inside.”
“Of course,” he said, sweeping her small frame into his arms. He knew Louisa was a small woman, but he marveled over just how little she weighed.
“Sir, I can do that for you,” Charlie said.
“No, that’s not necessary,” Marcel and Lou said in unison.
Marcel frowned and wondered briefly if Granny was pulling their legs.
“I’m not so sure,” Diana said. “Maybe you should have gone to your appointment today.”
“Drop it, Diana.” Lou rolled her eyes. “Now, if you could just kindly show this young man to our apartment, the sooner I can curl up in my warm bed.”
Louisa might have appeared weak, but there was nothing fragile about her behavior. Marcel was convinced more than ever that the old lady was trying to pull the wool over his and Diana’s eyes. But why?
“All right. Come on.” Diana turned around and led the way to their apartment.
Once they were inside, Marcel’s gaze soaked up every detail of the small apartment. The first thing he noticed was that they owned more furniture than the space allowed.
“Nice place you have here,” he said, glancing around.
“It’s home,” Diana said. “Do you think you could carry her to her room?”
“Sure.”
“We’ve only been in this apartment four months,” Lou informed him. “For a while, we didn’t think Diana would get the asking price of her house, but things came together and worked themselves out in the end.”
“Nana, Mr. Taylor isn’t interested in all of that.” Diana opened a bedroom door.
Mr. Taylor again. “Actually, I find it quite interesting.”
She said nothing, but gestured him into the room.
Marcel entered a pretty cream and gold room and placed Louisa on the bed. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Chile, if I was just a few years younger, I—”
“Nana!”
Louisa rolled her eyes. “Fuddy-duddy.”
Marcel smiled. “If I was a few years older, I might have taken you up on whatever you had in mind.”
Louisa squealed and slapped him on the arm. “I like you.”
“The feeling is mutual.” He winked and then followed Diana.
“Nana, I’ll be back to help you get ready for bed.”
Louisa waved her off. “Don’t bother. I can do it myself. I’m already feeling a lot better.”
“But—”
“I can do it.” Louisa sat up. “Now, git!”
Diana shook her head as she closed the door. “She’s going to drive me crazy,” she mumbled under her breath as she waltzed past Marcel.
Marcel chuckled. “It’s probably because you two are opposites.”
“No kidding.”
When they made it to the foyer, Marcel stalled for time by asking, “So what’s wrong with her?”
Diana’s hand froze on the doorknob before she turned to face him. “What makes you think that there’s something wrong with her?”
He shifted uncomfortably beneath her direct stare. “You said something about her missing an appointment.”
She visibly relaxed. “Oh. Well, it’s nothing.”
Another lie. Marcel crossed his arms and gave her his own hard glare. “You know, I’m trying really hard not to be offended by your attitude toward me all night. And I have to tell you I’m not sure it’s working.”
Diana opened her mouth to respond, but then quickly closed it. “You’re right. I’m being rude. Sorry.”
He drew a deep breath and nodded. “It’s okay. But it’s clear to me that something’s wrong. Let’s talk about it. Maybe I can help.”
Diana crossed her arms but she kept her tone civil. “I appreciate it, but you can’t help. No one can.” With that, she turned back toward the door and opened it. “Good night.”
Marcel sighed and gave up. He certainly wasn’t going to force her to talk to him. “All right. If that’s the way you feel. Good night.”
Diana’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach as she watched Marcel stroll out of the apartment. Her enormous pride refused to let her stop him and, God forbid, ask for help.
Once he was gone, she closed the door and rested her head against it. Only then did she allow her tears to fall.
Chapter 9
At five-thirty Saturday morning, a puffy-eyed Diana dragged out of bed, pulled on her jogging suit and grabbed her MP3 player. Neither rain nor snow prevented Diana from starting her day with a four-mile run. It was what centered and rejuvenated her, which was exactly what she needed these days.
Stepping out of the apartment, she was surprised to see Tim was already out and waiting for her.
“I want details. Don’t leave anything out,” he said with a wide, knowing grin.
“What are you talking about?” She started her stretches. “Where did you disappear to last night?”
Tim’s lips dipped dramatically. “Nothing happened last night?”
She stopped in the middle of a leg stretch to narrow her stare. “Were you expecting something to happen?”
“Well, Lou said—” He caught himself.
Understanding dawned on Diana. “I don’t believe this.” Last night’s events scrolled through her head—mainly, Tim’s sudden disappearance and Lou’s lack of concern.
Tim held up his hands. “Now before you get upset—”
“Why should I be upset? Louisa’s meddling is a constant
state in my life. She always knows what’s best for everybody but her.”
He relaxed.
“But you, on the other hand, should’ve known better. You’re supposed to be my friend.”
“I am your friend.”
Her expression soured. “Some friend.”
“Look, I saw the way you looked at Marcel. More importantly, I saw how he looked at you.”
“What?” She shook her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. The man is my boss. That’s the beginning and the end of our relationship.”
“The beginning, yes. The end, I’m not too sure.” His gaze caught hers. “Just admit it. You like the guy.”
Diana’s irritation flared. “Listen to me. I don’t like Marcel Taylor. Now get off my back.” She jammed her headset on and blasted music into her ear before she took off running.
Marcel and Solomon linked up at Gold’s Gym for their morning workout. Their dedication to physical fitness dated back to their adolescent years. But their dreams of being professional athletes died after a series of injuries in college. Nowadays, despite constant travel and conflicting schedules, the old friends still made time to make it to their favorite gym.
This morning, however, Marcel’s mind strayed during his treadmill run to travel back to the troubled eyes of Diana Guy. At the office, she was the ultimate business professional. She came to work on time, did her job and never uttered a complaint. In essence, she was perfect for him—as a secretary, of course.
“So what do you know about Diana Guy?” Marcel asked suddenly, interrupting Solomon’s recap of what had happened later that night at Club Secrets.
“Diana? Your secretary?”
“Yeah. I mean, have you ever heard anything about her—around the office or break room?”
Solomon lifted his water bottle from his treadmill’s cup holder. “Gossip? You’re asking me for gossip?”
“No, no. Not gossip, but, uh…information. She’s so quiet and all.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said after thinking it over. “Come to think about it, I don’t think I’ve seen her hanging out with any of the other employees. I’ve never heard a bad word spoken about her either.”
Neither had Marcel. For someone he viewed as irreplaceable, she blended into the scenery so well it was amazing.
“Why are you so interested, anyway?”
Marcel shrugged and then accelerated the speed on his treadmill. “No reason. I was just curious.”
Solomon’s gaze remained glued to Marcel. “Since when are you ‘just curious’ when it comes to women? Come on, spill it.”
“There’s nothing to say. I just realized that I didn’t know that much about her.”
“And that’s all?”
“Of course. What else would it be?”
Halfway through their run, Tim tapped Diana on the shoulder. When she ignored him, he reached out and moved the headset from her ear. “I’m sorry.”
Diana slowed down.
“Oh, thank God,” he moaned, grateful for a break from the crazy pace she’d set. “I thought you were going to kill me.”
“I should,” she huffed. “Maybe then I can get you and my grandmother to butt out of my personal life.”
“Fine. I’ll keep my nose out of your business.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”
“Spare me the theatrics.” She rolled her eyes, but allowed a grin to curve her lips. “It’s kind of funny when I think about it.”
“What Lou and I did?”
“No. That you two actually thought that Marcel and I would make a good couple.” She laughed.
“What’s so funny about that?”
“Only the obvious,” she said, slowing down their run to a light jog. “We’re complete opposites.”
Tim laughed. “Unless he’s gay, which I didn’t detect on my radar, then I don’t see a problem.”
“Please. Marcel is this larger-than-life force that attracts everyone’s attention. Every woman that comes within ten feet of him falls head over heels for the man. And me, I’m just…me.”
“Still. He’s just a man standing in front of a woman—”
“You need to stop watching so many Julia Roberts films.”
“And you need to stop thinking that you’re not worthy of someone like Marcel Taylor.”
“It’s not a question of worth. It’s…I don’t know.” She came to a dead stop and glanced up at the dawn’s growing sunrise.
Tim stopped as well. “What is it?”
Though Diana considered Tim to be her best friend, she didn’t often divulge intimate details about herself. She kept pity parties to a minimum by keeping a lot to herself. Right now, she was in danger of breaking her own rule. “It’s been my experience that hoping for things is usually a waste of time.”
Tim frowned as he held her gaze. “That’s not true.”
“Of course it is.” She started walking. “Like the time I hoped my biological father would show up one day with a perfectly good excuse for why he’d skipped out on me and my mom when I was nine months old.” A tear strayed from her eye. “Or when I hoped the doctors caught my mother’s breast cancer in time to save her.”
“So now you don’t hope to find love, is that it?”
She wiped her eyes and gave him a sad smile. “It’s just a waste of time.”
Diana breathed a little easier for the next two weeks. Marcel was on location for a video shoot for one of the label’s newest artists. In the meantime, she took at least two calls an hour from Donald Taylor, who was on a mission to find his son. However, Marcel’s single instruction during his absence was not to give his father his new cell phone number.
It wasn’t an easy task.
“I guess he’s taking his mother’s side in all of this,” Donald huffed.
Diana held her breath, unsure of what to say.
“All right, tell him I called again.” He slammed the phone down.
“Yes, sir,” she mumbled to a dial tone and hung up, too. Almost immediately, the phone rang again, but this time it was Marcel’s missing-in-action mother, Camille.
“Mrs. Taylor, I’m so happy you called.” Diana reached for her notepad. In the background, she heard music playing. “Where are you?”
“Enjoying a much needed vacation.” She laughed. “My dear, if you’ve never been to Venice, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Diana smiled. She’d always liked Camille. “Some say ignorance is bliss.”
“You have a point there. But life is to be enjoyed, my dear. You’ll do good to remember that.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good. Is my handsome son there? I think he might have hired some strange man to follow me around. At least, I hope. If not, I’ll need to go to the local authorities.”
“Oh, that would be Lee Castleman. I hired him…well, under Marcel’s instructions. He was worried about you.”
There was a long pause before Camille said, “I should’ve called him, I suppose.” She sighed. “I just needed to get away. Have you ever felt like that?”
Diana rolled her eyes and nodded. “You have no idea.”
“Then you should come out and join me.” Camille perked up. “I could send you a ticket.”
“I don’t think so.” Diana laughed, easing back into her chair. “My plate is sort of full right now.”
Diana could tell that her answer pricked the older woman’s excitement by the way her voice deflated in her next response.
“It was just an idea.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Maybe next time. Is Marcel around?”
“No. He’s in New York on a video shoot. I can give you his number, though.” Diana waited while Camille searched for a pen and then gave her Marcel’s phone number.
After they hung up, she thought about what the older woman had said, mainly because it closely mirrored her grandmother’s nightly spiel.<
br />
Everyone seemed to think she didn’t know how to let her hair down and that she worked too hard. Okay, maybe the latter was true, but what choice did she have? She knew how to have fun if she really wanted to…sort of. She sighed. Who was she trying to kid?
Today at lunch the rumor mill was in full swing. Marcel’s flight up with Nora had all the women practically buzzing and waging bets.
Diana ignored them.
In all, it was an exhausting day and she couldn’t wait to get out of there. No sooner had she slid her purse strap over her shoulder to leave than she heard Solomon calling her name.
“Diana. Thank God you’re still here.” He stopped in front of her desk. “I need a favor. A big favor.”
Not now. I just want to go home. She sighed but managed a buoyant smile. “Sure. What can I do for you?”
“I just got a call from Marcel’s housekeeper, Juanita. She’s had some type of family emergency and can’t get over to his house to feed Brandy.”
Diana drew in a breath.
“I would do it,” he rushed on. “But I have a flight to catch and there’s no one else I can ask on such short notice.”
“I don’t know,” Diana hedged. “I have this thing about dogs.”
Solomon came around her desk and took her by the hand. “Please. Brandy is a sweetheart, really. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“She’s a Doberman pinscher.”
“A baby.”
She frowned. “I though she was four years old.”
“Well.” He smiled slyly. “She’s young at heart.”
“I don’t think so.” Diana shook her head. Her fear of dogs was no laughing matter. “You’re going to have to get someone else.”
Solomon dropped to one knee and pressed her hand against his chest. “Please. You have to do this for me…for Marcel. You know he loves that dog.”
Diana shook her head as she pulled her hand away and then gathered her things. “No. I draw the line at dogs.”
Solomon jumped back onto his feet and trailed after her as she headed toward the elevators.
“C’mon. You know as well as I do that Marcel doesn’t trust too many people in his house.”
“No.” Her stride quickened.
Unforgettable (Arabesque) Page 6
