by Chiah Wilder
Hunched over my keyboard, I tapped away, responding to numerous e-mails. I lost track of the time and probably would’ve been there until it turned dark if Trace hadn’t come into my office. I looked over my computer glasses at him as he walked in and sat down.
“Staying late again?” he asked.
“Killing time. I hate waiting in line for the elevators, and then being squished inside like a sardine in a can. Plus, I needed to respond to all the e-mails.” I looked back at my screen, hoping he’d get the hint that I didn’t want to chat.
“I hate being in a crowded elevator too. It makes me feel vulnerable.”
“I know what you mean. Do you feel like that on airplanes?”
He shook his head. “No, just elevators. It’s been like that for as long as I can remember.”
“Are your parents that way?”
“My mom hates heights, and my dad wasn’t afraid of anything that I can remember. He died when I was young.”
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how tough it must be not to have your dad.”
He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
I nodded. “A brother two years older than me and a sister three years younger. I’m the middle child, and I won’t go into all the neurosis that’s caused. Do you have any siblings?” I didn’t remember reading about him having any in my research, but then almost all of the articles I came across were of him and other women.
“No. I did have….” He grew silent and looked past me. Seconds ticked away and he stood, staring out the window, a faraway look in his eyes. I wished I could’ve crawled into his brain to see what he was thinking. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at me. “How’s the Absolute Glam account coming?”
And just like that, he was back to business mode. “I worked on the sketches today. I have to say I’ve had a love affair with makeup since before I could put it on. I’m thrilled to be the lead on this campaign.”
“You were the one I had in mind when the client signed the dotted line. I’m happy to see your enthusiasm. If you have time, I’d like to see the sketches.”
I glanced at the clock and freaked. It was already six thirty. I had less than an hour to freshen up and change before meeting Cory. Where did the time go? I turned off the computer and stood up. “Sorry, but I have to go. I’m meeting someone for dinner in an hour. Maybe we can do it tomorrow?”
“Where’re you going?”
I paused. Why is he asking me that? “The Harbor Fish House in Fisherman’s Wharf.”
“Last time I was there was for my grandfather’s seventy-sixth birthday. So about three years ago. It has great views of the Golden Gate Bridge.”
“I went there when I first came to San Francisco. The food is good. The restaurant was his choice.”
“His? You’re going on a date?” His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed.
“Yeah?” It came out as more of a question, surprised by his sudden change in tone.
“Are you going with Paul?”
“Paul who works here? No. Why would you ask me that?”
“I heard he has a crush on you.”
“We’re just colleagues. And he has a crush on all the women who are single. I really have to go.”
He blocked the doorway, so I squeezed by, my breasts brushing against his chest. I swore he whispered, “Lucky man,” under his breath, but when I said, “What?” he stared at me and followed me to the elevator. We stood in silence and when the bell rang, I jumped. With downturned mouth and furrowed brows, he stood watching me until the elevator door closed. For a moment, I wanted to forget about meeting Cory and take the elevator back to Trace’s floor, but I knew that would be career suicide, so I stepped out to the lobby and rushed to catch the trolleybus.
After the fastest shower I’d ever taken, I slapped on some makeup, changed into a simple black dress, and dashed outside to meet the awaiting cab. My car was parked three blocks away, and with high heels and a damn steep hill, I’d be terribly late for sure. As it was, I was running ten minutes behind. I’d texted Cory and told him I’d be late, but I didn’t think the date was starting off very well. It wasn’t only me being late, it was also Trace bouncing around in my head again.
As the cab driver sped to my destination, my mind kept going back to the way Trace had reacted when I told him I had a date. He seemed mad and sad at the same time. I didn’t know what to make of it.
“Twenty-one dollars,” the driver said in a heavily accented voice. I handed him the fare and tip and slid out of the back seat.
When I entered the restaurant, Cory leapt to his feet, then came over and gave me a quick hug. His aftershave was powerful and my nose twitched. I was prone to allergies, and I couldn’t tolerate overpowering scents like the one Cory had slathered on. It was going to be a long night.
“You look beautiful,” he said as he took my elbow and guided me to a table by the window.
“Thanks. I’m sorry I was late. I got caught up in work.” And my boss.
“No worries. I’m just happy to see you again.”
Cory ordered a bottle of chardonnay and we eased into a comfortable conversation. In the distance, the lights from the Golden Gate Bridge twinkled, their reflection dancing on the water below. The full moon hung low like a big luminous pearl in an inky sky speckled with stars. It was beautiful. An empty ache pulsed inside me, and I wished Trace were there sharing a glass of wine with me as we feasted on lobster, Dungeness crab, and baked oysters. I missed him. I knew that was crazy and totally unfair to Cory, who was turning out to be witty, charming, and a real gentleman, but my mind was on Trace, and my body wanted him so much.
“Do you like your dinner?” Cory asked as he poured more wine in my glass.
“It’s very good. How’s yours?”
“Great. You seem a bit preoccupied. Is anything wrong?”
“Sorry. I guess my mind is still on work.” I wasn’t lying considering my mind was on my boss.
“Where do you work again?”
“Velocity. It’s an advertising and marketing company. I’ve been there for five years.”
“I’ve read about it. Didn’t you just get a new CEO?” He tapped his temple with his finger. “What’s his name?”
“Trace Prescott.” His name spilled easily from my mouth; I loved saying it.
“That’s right. He’s pretty young, isn’t he?”
I shrugged. “There’re a lot of CEOs who are younger now. Especially in some of the IT companies.”
“He took his grandfather’s place. Thomas Linder. It must be nice to be born into all that money and not have to earn it.”
“Tra—Mr. Prescott works hard. He’s already brought in several new accounts. And he earned his own money years ago by developing a gaming app.”
Cold, hard eyes replaced the warm, friendly ones from just a moment before. “You’re a real loyal employee. Do you receive any fringe benefits from Mr. Prescott?” Disdain hung on his tongue.
“What’re you talking about? And why’re you getting so mad?”
And just like that, the warmness came back into his eyes, the muscles relaxed in his face, and he unclenched his fists. “I guess I have a chip on my shoulder when it comes to inheriting wealth rather than making it. Most of us have to work all our lives, and we never even get close to the amount of money Prescott and the likes of him will inherit. It’s just one of my pet peeves.”
I didn’t know what to say. Maybe Cory had grown up real poor and the rich kids at school had made fun of him when he was young. I made a mental note to do some digging around about him. The way he turned was a red flag for me—a small one, but a red flag nonetheless. But I’d promised myself I wouldn’t take one thing and use that as an excuse to add him to the elimination list I’d started a couple of years before. I had so many names on it, and the keeper list had none.
The rest of the night went well. We even shared the chocolate banana bread pudding, w
hich was to die for. I was a huge chocoholic, so I was delighted when Cory asked me to pick the dessert. I practically ate the whole thing. I’d be spending a few extra hours in the gym for that indulgence, but it was so worth it.
Outside, the air was chilly and I shivered in spite of my lined jacket. Cory wrapped his arm around me and I felt warmer, but that was about all I felt. Nothing else. Not the spark I felt whenever Trace and I inadvertently touched. I wasn’t being difficult; it just wasn’t there. But in fairness to Cory, I’d never felt a spark with any man before Trace.
“I don’t want the evening to end. Would you like to go somewhere for a drink?”
“I had a real nice time, but I have some work I need to do for one of the new accounts. I’ll take a rain check, okay?”
The coldness crept back into his eyes for a second, but then he nodded and leaned into me.
“I’ll take you up on that.”
He came in for a kiss and I turned my face so his lips landed on my cheek. “Give me a call.”
“Let me take you home,” he said, a scowl beginning to form on his face.
My rule was to go out with a guy for a few times before I let him know where I live. My friends joked and called me paranoid, but I looked at it as a safety issue. I didn’t want a guy knowing where I lived if I wasn’t going to keep going out with him, and the jury was still out on Cory. He was nice, and I really had a good time, but the way he got so mad about Trace stuck in the back of my mind.
“I’m good.”
“I insist. I’m not in the habit of letting a lady find a ride after a date.” His brows knitted together.
“But I already have a ride.” I waved at a cab that pulled up in front of the restaurant. “Thank you again. It was a lot of fun.” Without waiting for his response, I slid into the back seat, gave the driver my address, and disappeared into the traffic. I was sure he wasn’t too pleased with me and he probably wouldn’t call me back, but I didn’t care. If Cory wanted to go out again, I’d give it another go; if not, then I wasn’t going to sit around moping about it for days.
When I got home, I slipped into my fleece pajamas and stretched out on the couch with my sketch pad in hand. I really wanted to wow the client with my advertising campaign, but I also wanted to impress the hell out of Trace. With that thought in mind, I worked until the early morning hours, then shuffled to the bedroom and crashed.
Chapter Twelve
Trace
“So, what is it you do again?” I asked the woman across the table from me. She picked up her glass of wine and sipped deeply before she responded.
“I work in advertising,” she replied, and before I knew it, my mind had vanished off down a path that led straight to Cierra.
That had been my problem ever since I had gone to my grandmother and asked her to set me up. There was nothing wrong with the women—in fact, under any other circumstances, they were the kind I would’ve loved to take out and romance and do God knew what else to. But I felt as though I was doing them a disservice because Cierra was always on my mind. My resolve to forget about her by meeting other women had failed miserably.
The woman I was with that evening was a perfect example. Victoria Pettinger. She was tall, beautiful, intelligent, and came from the kind of family I knew mine would be all too happy to have connections to. We were at an upscale restaurant she’d picked, the food was great, the wine flowed, and the conversation was about as solid as could be expected for a first date, yet I still found myself drifting off at every available moment to think about Cierra. Even though I was acting like an idiot and being unfair to Victoria, it didn’t make it any easier to shake how much I wanted Cierra, and how firmly she seemed to have lodged herself into my brain.
“Oh really?” I managed to sound interested, figuring I should at least try and show her a good time. “For who?”
“This publishing agency. I got offered a job at my dad’s company but I wasn’t interested. Technology’s not really my thing, you know? Present company excepted, of course.”
“Appreciated.” I managed a smile and took another sip of wine. We were just at the start of the meal, and I still had a good couple of hours before I could slip out and head back home. I glanced at my watch and instantly felt like a jerk when I looked up and saw that she’d seen me do it. I didn’t want her to feel like she wasn’t worth my attention, but I knew this was a waste of both our time. I should’ve just called it there and gone home, but I didn’t have it in me. Besides, I was damn sure my grandmother was keeping tabs on the dates she was setting me up on. I had no doubt she was making sure to use her deep and far-reaching network to make sure that I’d been nothing but a perfect gentleman to these women, and that they’d liked me.
I hadn’t planned on going out that night, but when Cierra told me she had a date, anger surged through me and I wanted to punch the hell out of the guy who was going to spend the evening with her. I could tell she was surprised by my reaction, and I didn’t blame her. Hell, I was surprised at how pissed I was. When she left, I promptly went back to my office and invited Victoria for dinner. Childish? Yeah. Lame? Sure. Pathetic? Fuck yeah. And now all I could think about was how I wished Cierra was the one sitting across the table from me.
“So, what are you thinking for the main course?” she asked, glancing at the menu. I tried to keep my expression engaged and bright, but I knew my awkwardness had to be clear on my face because hers dropped.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Everything’s great.” I flashed a big smile, not wanting her to think she was wasting her time here with me. I felt shitty for dragging her all the way out here just for me to use her as nothing more than a distraction from Cierra. I made a pledge to myself to do what I had to in order to make this night even vaguely enjoyable for her.
Victoria was the first dinner date, but she wasn’t the first blind date. First, there had been the flautist who played with the city’s symphony. I had to wonder what kind of stuff she could pull with her mouth, but she was dull and self-involved; I found myself drifting off within the first half hour of our conversation, grateful I had the excuse of work to end it early. Then there was a magazine editor who was a little too brusque and reminiscent of my own grandmother for me to get truly invested—no wonder she had liked her so much. And now here I was sitting opposite a woman who my grandmother had sworn up and down would be totally perfect for me.
On paper, she was. She was sophisticated, charming, and an appropriate age. Dating her could’ve been the improvement to my image I needed to confirm to all our investors that I was trustworthy and worth more than those sleazy back-page tabloid stories. But despite the fact that the conversation was flowing and the evening had been nothing but pleasant, I just couldn’t find the chemistry crackling between us that I did between Cierra and me.
I knew I was being fucking stupid, that I was spinning my wheels when it came to Cierra, but she was the only one who interested me. Even when I was at work and trying to keep focused, I found myself drawn to thoughts of her, to what she was doing, to whether or not I could feasibly invite her back to my office for another long meeting now that Lindsey had returned from sick leave. I just wanted to spend time with her, get to know her, do things to her that I’d never done to anyone else before. She brought out this raw desire in me that seemed to overwhelm the logical thinking parts of my brain and left me dizzy with excitement and need for her. I’d never felt anything like it for anyone in my life, not even when I’d been a teenager experiencing all of this for the first time. It was this intense, heady mix of sexual desire and something deeper, much deeper, that I was struggling to articulate or put my finger on.
But all I knew for certain was that the woman sitting opposite me right at that moment didn’t flick any of those switches for me. I took a deep breath as she scanned the menu, knowing I had to put her out of her misery before I wasted her entire night.
“Victoria,” I said, and she looked up at me.
; As soon as she clocked my expression, her face dropped. “Let me guess, you have to get out of here?” She sighed, raising her eyebrows ruefully.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “But I’ve got—”
She held her hand up. “Spare me the excuses. Just let me finish this glass of wine and leave with my dignity, okay?”
I nodded and gestured for her to take as long as she wanted as a wave of relief settled about my shoulders. She sipped slowly and eyed me with something close to amusement.
“What is it?” I asked, and she cocked her head at me.
“I’m not sure, but there’s something going on that you’re not telling me about.”
“You could be right,” I answered carefully, not wanting to give too much away.
She clucked her tongue. “That secret, huh? Intriguing.”
“I have that effect on people.” I flashed her a smile, and she settled back into her seat.
“Maybe we could do this another time,” she suggested. “You have my number, right?”
“I do.”
“Well, give me a call when something isn’t going to come up at the last minute. I know you’ve had your hands full with taking over at Velocity. Tonight was obviously not a good idea. Let’s try again on a weekend when work isn’t on your mind. It might do you some good.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.” And I meant it. Our date had come about as an impulse fueled by anger and regret over Cierra’s date. Bad mistake on my part, and I was relieved Victoria was taking it like a good sport.
She finished the last few dregs in her glass, then stood up. “I’ll see you later.” She grabbed her bag from the floor and headed toward the door. While rubbing my temples, I watched her go. I need to get my shit together. I’d just let the kind of woman I would’ve once been all over walk out without me. I shook my head and handed my credit card to the waiter.
I have to figure out how to get over Cierra.
I strode out of the restaurant and into the chilly night air.
Chapter Thirteen
