by Jo Leigh
She entered the lovely deluxe hotel room. She was planning to spend the night there even though she lived quite close to the hotel, but she wasn’t sure if Jake would stay. She hoped so now, but she might not later. A lot depended on the success of the evening, particularly her success with William West. When she’d met with him at the Gates Foundation dinner, he’d seemed interested, although she wasn’t sure if his interest was in the Winslow Foundation or her.
He hadn’t been overt, not at all, but the signs had all been there. Lingering eye contact, a kiss to the back of her hand that had made her uncomfortable. It was very likely that he was behaving the way he behaved with all women. He wouldn’t be the first man she’d met who was like that. Under other circumstances, she wouldn’t bother finding out the truth, but he had a substantial fortune he wanted to donate, and she was only one among many in line for it.
She just hoped she’d have a definitive read on him by the end of the evening. The last thing she wanted to do was waste time playing games.
She settled on the bed, her cell phone clutched in her right hand. She closed her eyes, but didn’t expect to sleep. There would be dancing. The orchestra was fantastic, and they weren’t going to go crazy with too modern a set because there wasn’t a person attending who would know what to do to hip-hop. Well, maybe Bree and Charlie, but still. There would be slow numbers, mostly, and medium numbers, but nothing that would make anyone sweaty.
She had no idea how much of that, if any, Jake’s leg could take. She’d prefer not to put him in an uncomfortable situation but that was unavoidable, wasn’t it? And why was she even worried in the first place? If he had thought it was a bad idea, he’d have declined the invitation. He wasn’t a child and he had nothing to prove to her.
God, they weren’t even dating. Although they might as well be because there were going to be a hell of a lot of Winslows in The Cosmopolitan Suite. Her parents, to begin with. Her grandfather. Charlie. Andrew, her cousin on her mother’s side, who was not terribly bright. He did, however, look great in photographs which was evidently all the family thought he needed to run for the New York senate. He’d be pressing the flesh, distracting and irritating everyone and taking the spotlight off the foundation.
She wouldn’t think about that because there was nothing she could do about it. The Winslow family had her outvoted, and if she was honest with herself, she’d known keeping Andrew away was a lost cause before the discussion had come up.
She hated it, though. He was a jerk, and New York deserved so much better.
She moaned as she turned over. The nap was a farce, but maybe a shower would soothe her enough to deal with the rest of her night. She thought about asking her mother to bring one of her nice little calming pills with her, but rejected the notion immediately. If ever she needed to be sharp it was tonight.
She got her things together for her shower, made sure her dress and shoes were at the ready, then went into the bathroom, purposely leaving her cell phone on the bedside table.
JAKE ENTERED THE FOUR SEASONS from the East 57th Street entrance and walked into the elevator that would take him down one level to The Cosmopolitan Suite, unashamed to admit that he was nervous. He knew how to behave with high-end company, that wasn’t it. He wanted to impress Rebecca. At the very least, he wanted to be what she needed, although it didn’t help that he wasn’t sure what that would be.
First thing, he’d find himself a drink. Okay, second thing, because as he entered the banquet room, there she was. And she was a stunner.
Man, she looked like a movie star. Like a forties glamour girl, and he had to wonder if her choice in gowns had anything to do with their recent discussions of film noir. No, that was a ridiculous thought especially when he took into account that the style fit her to a T.
The dress was floor-length, a rich red that showed off her creamy shoulders and amazing curves. Her hair was pinned up, her lips red, and when she caught sight of him, there was nothing and no one else in the room. The smile that lit up her face got him moving. By the time he reached her, she had turned, and while he wanted to kiss her until the sun came up tomorrow, he stopped himself in the nick of time. Instead he followed her lead. She took one hand and squeezed it and kissed his cheek, then whispered, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He nodded slightly, then forced himself to cool it as he realized they were most definitely not alone. Not five feet away, Jake recognized a guy who had his arm around a really petite, pretty girl. On further inspection, she wasn’t that young. Just small. And decked out in a dress that made him blink. Not that she didn’t look great in it, she did. It was just odd with pastel colors in a weirdly geometric jacket on top of a black-and-white-striped skirt and shoes that seemed to be made solely of straps.
“Jake Donnelly, this is my cousin Charlie Winslow, and my friend Bree Kingston. They’ll be sitting with you when I’m roaming around shaking hands, so it would be better if you liked each other.”
“Sure, no pressure,” Jake said, as he shook hands with first Bree, then Charlie. “You’re the blog guy. I don’t know why I didn’t make the connection.”
“I am the blog guy, but in this room, I’m just Rebecca’s cousin,” Charlie said. “Nice to meet you.”
Bree said, “You know what? I could use a drink. How about you boys go fetch us some?”
“It’s all equality until someone needs a drink or there’s a spider in the bathtub,” Charlie said. “You want pineapple juice or something for grown-ups?”
Bree gave Charlie a quick glare. “A Sea Breeze, please.”
Jake turned to Rebecca. “And you?”
“I don’t dare start drinking this early. I’ll have a tonic and lime. That’ll fool everyone, right?”
“No one’s going to notice. They’ll all be too dazzled by how beautiful you are.”
“Oh,” Bree said as if she’d just seen a kitten. “Okay, you can stay.”
He laughed to hide the embarrassment of having been such a cliché, but the look on Rebecca’s face told him he hadn’t crossed the unforgivable line. “Be right back.”
He and Charlie went toward the nearest bar and Jake finally took a look at the joint. It was huge; there was a stage with a full orchestra playing something soft and jazzy, enormous vases with huge flower arrangements all around the many tables, each set up with more glittering silver and crystal than he’d seen in Macy’s. It was a massive affair, this party, and he slowed his pace as he watched a row of servers enter the ballroom. They were in black and white, wore gloves and held silver platters with tiny hors d’oeuvres on them. Jesus. She’d said there were billions at stake but he only believed her now. She was playing in the majors.
“You used to be a cop?” Charlie asked as they reached the bar.
“Yeah. Got in right after college. Planned on staying until retirement. Didn’t work out that way.”
Since there wasn’t much of a line yet, they were able to order pretty quickly. Charlie went first, then Jake put in his requests. He glanced back to find Bree and Rebecca huddled, both staring directly at him. Great.
“Don’t worry,” Charlie said. “You already passed. Rebecca wouldn’t have invited you if you were even marginal. Tonight is huge for her. It’s like the Super Bowl of fundraisers.”
“She’s amazing.”
“That she is,” Charlie said. “The only relative I like, which is something because we’ve got relatives crawling out of the woodwork. I’ll do my best to help you avoid as many as possible.”
“She told me her folks would be here.”
“Her father isn’t a Winslow by birth, but he might as well have been. He’s got the entitlement thing down to a science.” Charlie got his drinks and waited for Jake. “We all do, honestly. We grew up on the milk of privilege, but Rebecca has always handled it like a responsibility, not a game. She could have done anything with her life. The foundation used to be more of a tax dodge than a charitable enterprise, but she’s changing all that. It’s not easy,
considering who’s on the board.”
It was Jake’s turn to get his drinks, and he took advantage of the moment to take a good sip of his bourbon and water. Although he’d have to grab some of those appetizers before long. He wasn’t about to get drunk, not tonight. “We haven’t talked all that much about our respective careers,” he said. “Although I checked out the foundation online. Seems to be doing a lot of good work.”
Charlie brought them to the women, drinks were exchanged, but he didn’t stop looking at Jake. “You can tell me to go jump in a lake,” Charlie said, “but I’ve gotta ask the guy question. You got shot? Twice?”
Jake had been expecting that since he and Rebecca had met, but not from her cousin. It didn’t bother him. Charlie was right. Every guy he knew had hit him up for details. He wondered though if it had been a setup. If Rebecca had wanted to know and asked Charlie to front the question. From the look on her face, he didn’t think that was the case. She probably did want to know so he plunged ahead.
“Undercover operation. Didn’t go so well. We trusted someone who didn’t deserve it. There was a shoot-out like you see on cop shows on TV. I’d never seen anything like it before, and I didn’t see it for long.
“I was lucky, I would have bled out if there hadn’t been paramedics right there. The getting shot part wasn’t at all like on TV. It hurt like a sonofabitch, and it didn’t heal up by the next commercial. I still go to rehab, my left hand shakes from time to time and I’ll be living with this limp for the rest of my life.”
Charlie held up his drink. “Thank you for your service. I’m sorry it cost such a high price.”
Rebecca had lost her smile, but she held her drink up in salute, as did Bree.
Jake wasn’t good at this, and did what he always did, which was to look at his shoes. “Thanks.” When he looked up again, it was at Rebecca. “How about them Yankees?”
REBECCA IGNORED BREE AND Charlie completely. She kissed Jake on the lips. “I have to do things. I’ll come back. I promise.”
“Go,” Jake said. “Knock ’em dead. As if you could help it.”
A little “oh” let her know Bree had been listening, but Rebecca continued to ignore her friend. “I wish I didn’t have to go. But duty calls.” She pasted on a smile, went toward the entrance and began the fundraising portion of the evening.
While she welcomed guests that never failed to appear in Time magazine’s 100 Most Influential People, some of them her own relatives, she couldn’t resist sneaking glances back at Jake.
She wasn’t sure of the designer of his tux, for all she knew it could be off the rack, but it didn’t matter because the man wore the clothes, not the other way around. Did he ever.
It was traditional black, complete with bow tie and small pocket kerchief, white. The classic look was a fantastic frame for his face, his eyes, and she dared any woman in the room not to swoon over him after one sight.
“Rebecca.” The strident voice couldn’t be mistaken for any other.
Rebecca returned to her duties. “Hello, Mom. Dad.” She bent for the air kisses and waited for the verdict. Both parents would have something to say about her, about the room, about the night, about every last little detail right down to the type of gloves worn by the waitstaff.
“You look very nice,” her mother said. “Although you may want to rethink the strapless gowns when it comes to this particular event. You represent the entire family, and we wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”
“I’m pretty certain everyone here would be able to tell I was a woman even if I wore a burka, Mother. And how’s your hip, Dad? Better?”
Her father ignored the question. “The Bannerman Orchestra?” He sighed. It was all he needed to do.
“I like the way they rock the Hokey Pokey. Go get yourselves drinks. Have a good time. I made sure to have your favorite caviar to go with the Cristal Champagne. And don’t annoy Charlie. He’s in a mood.”
Neither of them deigned to reply as they walked over to the bar. Rebecca had to admit they looked fantastic, but then the Winslows and the Thorpes had learned the art of presentation when they were toddlers.
And then she caught sight of Jake and he was looking at her, ignoring his companions, as far as she could tell. She smiled. He smiled back. When she held out her hand to Mr. and Mrs. Chandler, she knew she was blushing.
Time slipped by in a mixture of false bonhomie and genuine pleasure as she continued to schmooze the elite. The orchestra played old standards, reserving those best for dancing until later. Soon dinner would be served and while she couldn’t wait for the seating, which would only come after she’d made her welcome speech, she was becoming concerned since William West hadn’t arrived yet.
She’d felt sure he’d have come early, ready to continue the flirting he’d started last Thursday night. Well, she wouldn’t really worry until halfway through dinner.
IT WASN’T A BIG SURPRISE that Charlie was great. He was Rebecca’s favorite cousin, and made it to the list of things they both liked. So far he’d added good vodka, pizza crusts, his salad-making expertise, a deep appreciation for her underwear, film noir and the kind of sex that could start wars. Bree was cool, too. She made him laugh, and he appreciated the way she was with Charlie. Easy, but connected. They hadn’t been together long, but he’d wager the relationship would take.
His folks used to look at each other like these two did. As if the words were nice, but unnecessary.
Rebecca’s voice on the stage snapped his gaze back to her. Dammit, the woman knocked him out. Not just the way she was gorgeous, but the way she held the attention of every person in the room. Yeah, he wasn’t such a Brooklyn yahoo that he didn’t recognize half the people in attendance. Christ, he read the papers. Watched the news. What the hell he was doing here, he had no idea.
That question was becoming something of a problem. Anyone with half a brain would know he and Rebecca were a temporary item. There was zero chance that he was anything more than a passing whim. The issue was that he was starting to care about that. About after.
Who was going to measure up to a woman like Rebecca Thorpe? It wasn’t about the money thing, the hell with the money. But the woman? The heat between them? How he felt when he was with her? Yeah, who would he ever meet that would begin to compare?
The crowd laughed at something Rebecca had said and he found her looking at him instead of her audience. For a minute, she lost the gleam in her eye, and that was all on him. He hadn’t been paying attention, and, dammit, that was his job, his only job. To support her. To make her feel like a million. Well, in this group, a billion. He smiled and hoped like hell he could put her back on track.
The next words out of her mouth were confident, smooth. Amusing. She was back, and he wasn’t going to think about the unknowable future. He was here, now, and he’d be a moron not to enjoy every last second.
10
REBECCA BARELY TOUCHED her sole meunìere. Pity, because the food was unbelievably wonderful. She hated that her plate would go to waste.
If she could have she would have scooted her chair closer to Jake’s until she could lean against him. She wanted his arm around her shoulders, his soft kiss in her hair. Instead, she contented herself with watching him enjoy his beef tenderloin, the sound of his laughter when Charlie or Bree said something amusing. It puzzled her, how much she enjoyed merely looking at him. At the funny and incredibly endearing way he would express himself with a quirk of his lips. He could transform from the essence of machismo to the picture of infinite kindness when he saw his father’s hands.
She put another small bite into her mouth when Bree caught her eye. She pointedly glanced at Jake, then bit her lower lip as if Jake’s pure awesomeness was too much to handle. Rebecca laughed, covering her mouth, trying not to choke.
“You okay?” Jake asked, his hand on her bare back above her dress.
She hissed at the contact even though his hand wasn’t cold or a surprise.
He lifted
it immediately at the sound, but she shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
Jake was pulling away when her hand found his thigh. “It felt good,” she said.
His smile unfolded slowly in all its slightly crooked glory as he touched her again. He kept his voice low, and she felt his breath on the shell of her ear. “You’ve nailed this,” he said. “Listen. You can hear that people are enjoying themselves. I couldn’t swear to it, but I bet for this crowd, that’s unusual. Your fingerprints are all over this night. You should hit them hard as soon as the meal is over. They’re pumped and primed.”
She laughed again, but it was breathless at his compliments. She did as he’d suggested. She listened. The orchestra was on a break as she’d specified no music during dinner. She wanted people to talk. Above the clatter of silver, the clink of glasses, there was a steady mumble of voices, nothing distinct but the laughter.
She looked over her left shoulder to the nearest table. Not one of the guests was staring blankly while they ate. Everyone was engaged, participating. It was only one table, but indicative.
Her attention shifted to her immediate surroundings. Wine was being poured. Jake’s hand rubbed a small circle on her back and her stomach tightened. Charlie asked Bree if she liked the amaranth; Bree told him she wasn’t sure because she had no idea what amaranth was.
She hardly realized she had turned to face Jake, that she’d found his gaze and was staring, watching his pupils grow as his breathing quickened. “Thank you,” she said. Then she kissed him on the lips. It was tempting to stay there, with his hand on her back and his words swimming in her head. But that would have to wait.
When she sat up, he drew away smoothly. He took up his fork and had another bite of the eggplant puree. His amaranth remained untouched. Perhaps it would have been wiser to go with a rice pilaf.
