by Abby Gaines
Oh, help. I love him.
Rachel realized her mouth had sagged open in that way Garrett liked to draw attention to. She snapped it shut. How could she have fallen in love with him? Easily, it seemed. And now, he’d given up at the first hurdle.
“I expected that,” she said aloud. Her voice echoed in the empty hallway. She knew he wasn’t good at relationships and that he was wounded. That he’d rather let go than be hurt. But she also knew him to be capable of great loyalty, great passion. Garrett just needed to trust that he was capable of giving those things to her. And to trust that she would give them to him.
I’ll fight for him. No begging, no manipulation, no clinging…she would just do her utmost to show Garrett she wasn’t about to give up on him. When he trusted that, he might trust enough to love her back.
It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it.
* * *
IT FELT LIKE HOURS before Rachel heard the sound of clapping from the boardroom, though her watch told her it had been a mere thirty-three minutes. It was another five minutes before the door opened and Tony and Garrett emerged. Tony looked slightly dazed.
Rachel swallowed. “How’d you do?” She echoed Garrett’s earlier question.
“Good, I think.” Did she imagine it, or was he not meeting her eyes?
“Better than good,” Tony said, without the smug smile Rachel would have expected.
“Is there a problem?” she asked.
Tony threw Garrett a pointed look.
“I changed my pitch,” he muttered.
Rachel tensed, mainly because everyone else seemed so tense. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said with an impatience that used to bug her, which she recognized as defensiveness, “I came up with a better idea after Clive quit, and I worked through the night to turn it into a pitch for this morning.”
Obviously without telling Tony, who’d approved both their pitches in private showings last week.
What could Garrett have thought of, that was so good it justified throwing out weeks of his team’s work?
“When will we know the client’s decision?” Rachel asked Tony, trying to sound unruffled.
“Mark said the pitches will receive immediate consideration. I’d say we’ll hear in the next day or so. Maybe even this afternoon.”
And then, either she or Garrett would be out of a job.
She turned to him. “What made you—?”
His cell phone rang. “I need to take this,” he said, without even looking at the display.
Whoever it was, he wasn’t pleased to hear from them.
“What do you want?” he said impatiently into the phone. Charming as ever. Then he cursed. “I’m on my way.” He pressed the off button. “I’ve got to go,” he told Rachel and Tony.
“Is it Stephanie?” she asked, alarmed.
But he was striding away, ignoring the elevator in favor of taking the stairs two at a time. It was a safe bet that by the time Rachel and Tony reached the parking lot, Garrett’s BMW would be long gone.
“What the hell?” Tony said impatiently.
Rachel said, “I guess we’re taking the train.”
They had half a carriage to themselves on the train, so Rachel took the opportunity to talk to Tony about the pitches.
“Was Garrett brilliant?” she asked.
He nodded. Rachel forced a smile. “That’s great. Another CLIO coming up, huh?”
“Maybe.” Tony scrolled through the messages on his mobile phone without reading them. “Rachel, did Garrett tell you anything about his new pitch?”
“Not a thing,” she said. “Why?”
Tony grimaced. “Sometimes that guy is more trouble than he’s worth.”
Tony wouldn’t be saying that come CLIO night next week, she suspected.
“That’s the price of brilliance,” she said. “I know Garrett’s not easy, but creatively he seems to leapfrog over everyone else.”
“He does.”
Rachel cleared her throat. “Tony, now that Clive has gone, I’d like to ask KBC to reconsider the plan to fire an executive account director. Both Garrett and I have made a significant contribution. You’re sending a very negative message to the rest of the staff when you show you’re willing to ignore that.”
He nodded. “I agree, it doesn’t look good, but financially…” He sighed. “Rachel, I’ll ask the partners to look at the numbers again, okay?”
“Great,” she said. “Thanks, Tony.”
* * *
GARRETT TOOK THE STAIRS to his condo two at a time. His key was halfway into the lock when Stephanie opened the door.
“Oh, Garrett.” She took him into her arms, hugged him.
Instinctively, he hugged her back. “Any news?”
“Not yet.” His father spoke from the living area. Hell, Dwight had aged ten years. His face was gray, his cheeks sagging. His normally square shoulders had a distinct slump. “I’ve got calls in all over the Pentagon.”
Garrett walked over and shook his father’s hand. Which seemed totally inadequate, but it was more than he’d done in a long time. His father held the clasp a moment longer than natural.
“Tell me what happened,” Garrett said.
Stephanie sank down onto the sofa. Dwight joined her there, while Garrett took the leather armchair.
“Your brother was flying a routine reconnaissance mission along with two other choppers at 0800 local time this morning,” Dwight said. “On their way back, Lucas and his copilot saw a pursuing aircraft and tried to make contact. The other guy opened fire—we’re not quite sure who they were yet. Two of the choppers made it back. Lucas’s chopper was hit and went down.” He dug his fingers into his knees. “It didn’t go into the sea—we’re fairly sure of that. They were the last in the formation. They were still over land.”
Garrett was relieved to let go of a vision he’d had of his brother’s helicopter sinking beneath the waves of the Persian Gulf.
“Best outcome,” his father said with a staunch determination that raised Garrett’s hackles, “is that both men bailed out and are awaiting rescue. We have no reason to think that’s not the case at this stage. A crew will go in under cover of darkness to look for them.”
“They must have had signaling devices,” Garrett said. “Beacons. Radios.”
His father’s lips pressed together.
“Nothing’s been heard from either man,” Stephanie said.
Hell. “So what do we do?” Garrett asked.
“We wait,” Dwight said heavily. “We pray. And we thank God I have an inside track on what’s going on. The other pilot’s family will be in the dark.”
Garrett grimaced.
“I’ve sat in on this kind of situation before,” his father said. “I’m hopeful both men will be found alive.”
Stephanie pushed herself off the sofa. She rubbed the small of her back. “I’ll make coffee.”
“Thank you, darling,” Dwight said.
She blinked. Then turned and headed to the kitchen.
Garrett paced to the window. Down below, a garbage-truck driver was involved in a shouting match with a cabbie. Everything out there, everything he’d done today, seemed meaningless compared with the potential loss of his brother.
Lucas, on the other hand, had been doing something important. Worthwhile. Garrett wished he’d made a different choice. Been a better man. Wished now he could have another chance with Rachel.
“Your mother wouldn’t have expected you to do the same with your life as Lucas,” his father said.
Garrett started.
“You two were so different. And you were never going to sign up for something in the hope of impressing me.”
“Yeah, well, I had other priorities.” Garrett didn’t want to have this conversation now. It was the kind of conversation to have after someone dies, and he wasn’t willing to accept Lucas’s death.
His father scowled. End of talk. Good.
Dwight broke the silence
a moment later. “This is the first time I’ve been glad you didn’t go into the military.”
Garrett tipped his head back against the sofa. “I spent this morning giving the pitch that might win me that chief creative officer job.”
A pause. Then his father said awkwardly, “How did it go?”
Garrett hesitated. Small talk with his father? Now, of all times? “Uh, well. I think. I think I nailed it.”
His father nodded, but Garrett had the impression he wasn’t really listening. Garrett didn’t blame him.
Just as Stephanie set a tray of coffee on the glass coffee table, a thump sounded on the apartment door, startling all three of them. Cups clattered, coffee slopped into saucers.
“It couldn’t be…they don’t know where I am.” But Dwight looked uncertain.
Garrett strode to the door. Opened it.
There, on his doorstep, was another chance.
Rachel.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
RACHEL DIDN’T WAIT for Garrett to invite her in. She stalked past him.
“Why is Tony asking me about your pitch?” she demanded. “Why does he seem to think it would upset me? Did you steal my—” She stopped, realizing she had an audience.
Garrett’s father and Stephanie stood in the living room, oddly frozen.
“Uh…hi?” Rachel glanced inquiringly at Garrett.
“Lucas, my brother, has gone missing,” he said. “His chopper went down.”
“Garrett, I’m so sorry.” She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him. Because no matter what he thought, right now he needed her.
After a moment, he yielded. Let her absorb some of the rigidity of his body. Then his arms came around her, and he squeezed.
Dwight cleared his throat. “We’re very hopeful Lucas will be found alive. We have every reason to believe…”
Garrett disentangled himself from Rachel. “It’s a matter of waiting.”
Torture for him. For all of them. Rachel’s eyes met Stephanie’s, and she realized how much the woman was suffering. She clearly adored Lucas.
Rachel felt like an intruder. “I’m so sorry for barging in.” She hitched her purse higher on her shoulder. “I’ll leave you in peace.”
“That’s probably best,” Dwight said.
“Stay, Rachel,” Garrett said. “Please.”
It sounded as if he really wanted her, rather than simply scoring points against his dad. Stephanie nodded, adding her invitation to his.
“I’ll make some lunch,” Rachel offered.
Three voices started to say they weren’t hungry.
“It’ll be a long day,” Rachel said. “And you, at least—” she nodded to Stephanie “—definitely need to eat.”
In the kitchen, she took stock of the supplies. She wasn’t a great cook, but she could make a frittata and slice the sourdough loaf she found in the pantry. It was the kind of meal she often made for herself when she came in after a late night at the office.
Despite their avowed lack of interest, half an hour later everyone dug into the meal. The lack of small talk meant it disappeared fast. Every so often, Stephanie would pull out her cell phone, check that it was still working and she hadn’t missed anything. Dwight gave her an envious look each time, as if he’d like to do the same, but couldn’t show weakness.
After he pushed his plate away, Dwight held Stephanie’s hand on the tabletop, his thumb caressing her knuckles.
The silence seemed to grow heavier with the passage of time.
“Isn’t there someone you could call?” Garrett asked his dad.
“They’ll call me as soon as there’s news.”
“Is this about looking stoic?” Garrett demanded. “Because now isn’t the time, Dad, to prove how cool you are under fire.”
“It’s always the time to stay cool under fire,” Dwight shot back.
“Typical,” Garrett said, disgusted. “Heaven forbid that you should actually feel…”
“So tell me, Garrett,” Rachel said quickly. “If your brother was a fruit, what fruit would he be?”
Stephanie made a little sound of surprise.
“My son is not a fruit,” Dwight said, fury turning his face almost purple.
Garrett laughed out loud. He held Rachel’s gaze as he said, “Lucas is an apple. Smooth on the outside, the kind of fruit you see every day, but you don’t know what you’ll get until you bite into it.”
“That’s him,” Stephanie said, a little smile playing around her mouth.
“What the hell…” Dwight growled.
Stephanie squeezed his hand. Incredibly, it silenced him.
“I figured out what fruit you’d be,” Rachel said conversationally to Garrett. “Would you like me to tell you?”
His father sputtered.
Garrett held her gaze. “Yes, please, Rachel.”
“You’d be a durian,” she said. “They look really interesting, but they stink.”
He grinned, and a peculiar warmth spread through him. “I thought I smelled of, what was it, pine needles and citrus peel?”
She smiled, and there was a secretive quality to it that made him want to kiss her senseless. But he’d lost his chance to do that ever again.
Or had he? Garrett had made a bad judgment call, but it was Rachel’s nature to say they could get past that. He knew how tightly she liked to hang on. Maybe she would forgive him and this would all work out. He thanked God she wasn’t like him, quick to let go, slow to forgive.
“I was being polite about the pine needles,” she said.
“Of course,” he murmured, glad beyond measure that she was here. He wished they were alone so he could… Ugh, what kind of jerk did that make him, when his brother was missing?
He wished he’d said more to Lucas on the phone the other day. Told him he loved him, or something. He squelched a grin at the thought of Lucas’s likely reaction. They were both Dwight Calder’s sons.
They were both Michelle Calder’s sons, too. Maybe Garrett had been a bit harsh in his judgment of Lucas for attaching himself to Stephanie. He’d been twelve years old, for Pete’s sake. Fact was, when Garrett thought about what Lucas said on the phone the other day, about taking Mom’s advice to heart in his navy career…well, Lucas had done a great job of honoring Mom’s memory.
Unlike Garrett, who—
Garrett stopped, stunned. Rachel was right.
This whole partnership thing was all about his mother. All about proving he was the best he could be, because that was what Mom had dreamed of for her boys. No wonder the pressure had been so much more intense for this pitch than it ever had been before.
Garrett owed Rachel an apology.
He hoped that maybe, when he admitted that he’d been in major denial, it would help her understand what he’d done with his pitch. And why.
It would help her forgive him.
His father’s cell phone rang. Dwight dropped it in his haste to take the call, which was probably the nearest Garrett would ever come to seeing his dad flustered.
“Calder,” Dwight barked into the phone.
His countenance was totally neutral. Garrett imagined him hearing news of missile launches, of battles lost, with this same lack of expression.
How could his father be so unfeeling?
“Thank you for letting me know,” Dwight said tonelessly and ended the call.
“Well?” Garrett demanded.
Stephanie clasped Dwight’s hand.
“They know where Lucas is, and they believe he’s alive,” Dwight said, his tone as measured as if he was passing on the weather forecast. “They plan to mount a rescue mission at 0100 tomorrow. That’s 1600 this afternoon, our time.”
Just a few hours away. Stephanie burst into tears. Garrett wished he could do the same. Thank You, God.
“Is Lucas hurt?” he asked.
“They have no data on that,” his father said.
Garrett wanted to punch him.
Then Stephanie wound her arms ar
ound Dwight’s neck, and he clutched her so hard, she made an “oof” sound. Maybe his dad wasn’t as cool as he seemed.
“So now we wait some more,” Garrett said.
His father nodded.
“Will you stay?” Garrett asked Rachel.
She smiled, and his heart caught in his chest. “Of course.”
He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
“How about we go to the store? We can restock your sad bachelor pantry,” Rachel said.
* * *
SHOPPING AT DUANE READE with Rachel turned out to be an education. Garrett had never met anyone so particular about what she put in her cart. His strategy was to grab whatever sounded or looked or smelled good. She read every label as if cyanide might be lurking in the ingredients list.
“We haven’t got all day,” he grumbled when she put a perfectly ordinary pack of peanuts back on the shelf in favor of a seemingly identical pack of peanuts.
The smile she gave him was so impish that he had to kiss her. So he did, right there in the middle of the aisle. She must have figured out by now that he wanted out of that stupid breakup.
“Hmm,” she said when he pulled away. She peered at the small print on a pack of cookies, then put it into the cart. “Garrett, have you heard from Tony yet? Any news from Brightwater?”
Not the subject he wanted to discuss. “I haven’t looked at my phone.” He’d left it in the apartment. “Did you hear anything?”
She shook her head. “Brightwater probably haven’t made up their mind yet. It’s a bit soon.”
“Yeah.” It would always be too soon to tell her what he’d done with his pitch. He scowled at the bunch of bananas she was inspecting. “I don’t care if those are black-and-blue and filled with a lethal dose of pesticide, just put them in the damn cart.”
* * *
BACK AT THE APARTMENT, Rachel took orders from Stephanie as they prepared a meal. She wondered what Garrett had done in his pitch that was so extraordinary. But she didn’t want to spend time second-guessing Brightwater now, not when he was so worried about his brother.
Dwight switched on the TV to see if any word of the crash or the rescue mission had made it on to CNN. “It shouldn’t have,” he said. “No one wants the Iranians to know we’re coming, but with so many reporters over there…”
