“It is. But it wakes you up! How about we try that tomorrow morning?” Joshua took the glasses from Melina as she pulled off his sweatshirt and climbed into the water.
“Don’t push me,” she warned and took back the glasses. “Now, go get changed or else I’ll drink all this champagne myself!”
“Nope, I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Joshua said. In two seconds he’d shucked off his clothes and climbed in next to her. He leaned close.
“Happy birthday.” His whisper tickled her ear. “So, how many candles would you like on your cake?”
“Twenty-nine.” Melina covered his mouth with her own, ensuring no further discussion.
***
Joshua woke early the next morning, light streaming into the cabin windows that had no need for curtains—no one was near enough to see inside.
In the chilly morning air, Joshua pulled the sheet over Melina’s shoulders to keep her warm, enjoying the salty, beachy smell of her hair. She snored, a big grating snort, and it made him smile—this was something personal, something a little bit embarrassing, something she’d never divulge.
Although this weekend had been about simplicity, Joshua also loved Melina’s otherness, the perfumes and frilly lingerie she had stuffed in her drawers, and gradually in his.
Joshua’s stepmother was a practical woman, relying on thrift-store clothing and drugstore Chapstick as her beauty regimen. Crystal smelled like incense and hemp soap, and wore long, crumpled hippie skirts. Melina was another creature entirely, an exotic flower of smells and colors and textures.
Melina might be willing to put up with two days away from her overflowing bathroom and closets, but Joshua knew that wouldn’t last long. She seemed so intent on maintaining a polished, controlled exterior that sometimes she seemed brittle, even fake, just like her pinched and plucked friends.
I got through to her—at least a little—this weekend. He stretched and curled around her, and in sleep she snuggled closer. But is it enough?
TWENTY-FOUR
Joshua fell into step with Juan and Greg as they left the basketball court together, high-fiving each other for crushing Rick, Mark and Ben. It mattered and it didn’t—they were hard-core competitors every Wednesday night, but each week they’d shuffle teams, and new alliances would form.
“Since it’s early, let’s go bug Derek,” Mark suggested. “He’s short-staffed at the pub so he couldn’t play tonight. We can walk over there.”
The prospect of cold beer on a shady outdoor patio appealed, so they grabbed their bags and Joshua untied Aussie.
“If we’re not buying Gatorade, who’s buying the beer?” Rick asked, good humor returning after his team’s loss.
“Not it!” Ben and Greg said in unison.
Juan smiled. “Joshua just got back from a romantic weekend with Melina.” He rolled the R and raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Dude, it’s you.”
Joshua’s sweaty face told the truth. He was buying. But he wasn’t talking.
***
Just as the first round of beer showed up at their table, so did Stephanie.
“Babe! What are you doing here?” Mark pulled his wife into his lap and kissed her.
“Our house is sweltering,” she complained, extracting herself from Mark’s sweaty hug and scooting closer to the patio fan. “I was on the phone with Derek, figuring out plans for visiting our folks, and he said you guys just showed up. So I take it basketball is actually code for beer.”
“We played!” Rick said, defensively.
“Some of us did,” Juan jibed Rick’s losing team. “But your honey-bunny here wimped out.” Stephanie kissed Mark’s cheek in consolation.
“Well, if we’re gonna go co-ed with this, is it OK if I call Melina?” Joshua asked. Stephanie scowled.
“Sure, man, and tell her to bring a hot friend,” Rick said.
“Friends,” Greg corrected.
She answered on the third ring.
“Melina? How’re you doing tonight?”
“Good, just shopping with Andrea,” she said, distracted. “No, that one’s not a good look for you, too severe,” she said away from the phone. “Sorry. What’s up? I thought you were playing basketball after work.”
“We’re done, and we’re hanging out at Derek’s pub,” Joshua explained. “Want to come over? With Andrea?”
Melina promised to join them and invite Lauren as well. Soon, the brewpub’s patio was packed with ten friends, one dog, and several pitchers of beer.
“You people sure know how to make a guy work!” Derek said, setting down two more unordered pitchers and a tray of wings. “On the house.”
He gave Stephanie a good-natured push and sat down next to her, their similar curly blonde hair and dancing blue eyes confirming them as siblings.
“I’m through for the night, so pour me one, will you, Josh?” Joshua obediently poured as Derek looked around the table, recognizing the guys but not the girls. “And introduce me.”
Melina spoke up. “Derek, this is my friend Andrea Seabeck, she’s a junior partner at Brooks Gimbel,” she said, a nod to Andrea’s recent promotion. Andrea looked slightly embarrassed by the overly formal introduction. “And this is Lauren Sprague. She’s a jewelry designer.” Melina gestured to her finely tooled silver and amethyst necklace, one of Lauren’s designs.
Greg, Ben and Rick looked wolfish, silently dividing up the spoils. They proceeded to dominate the two women’s attention, leaving Derek at the far end of the table out of the picture.
“Don’t look so disappointed,” Stephanie hissed at her brother. “It’s strictly look-but-don’t touch.”
Derek’s eyebrows quirked into a question mark.
“Look, we never thought Melina and Josh would last this long, so hopefully, the other girls won’t be around for long, either,” she whispered.
“Sis, chill,” Derek calmed her. “You know what you say about houses, ‘Don’t decide until you get inside?’ Well, we’re just looking at houses from the sidewalk right now. Houses with really nice paint jobs.”
***
“Derek!” a woman called from inside the brewpub. “We need you back here.”
Derek rolled his eyes. “Ah, the joys of small business ownership.” He got up from the table to handle the latest crisis.
Inside, the brewpub was slammed—orders rolled in faster than the lone bartender could pour. He immediately grabbed three tickets and started pouring and traying drinks, setting them at the corner of the bar for servers to whisk away.
Once they caught up, he poured two more pitchers for his friends. He rounded the bar out to the patio—and slammed straight into Andrea.
“Aagh!” Andrea sputtered as the better part of a pitcher drenched her front. Derek immediately grabbed a bar towel to mop up the mess, then recoiled as he realized he was patting down her breasts.
Andrea took the bar towel out of his hand. “Thanks, I got this,” she said as she blotted her cream blouse, soaked and revealing a lacy bra beneath it.
Derek flushed red and grabbed another towel, furiously wiping up the floor to avoid Andrea’s gaze.
“Well, that did the trick to cool me down,” she laughed. “I was just complaining that the patio was hot, but it’s pretty hot in here, too.”
Derek lifted his eyes to look at her, saw her transparent shirt again and turned a deeper shade of crimson. “I’ll say,” he murmured. “I’d better get you a staff shirt to change into or else the guys will eat you alive.”
Andrea snorted. “I can hold my own against them.”
Derek strode to the back end of the bar, returning with a blue T-shirt bearing the pub’s logo. He thrust it into her hands. “I don’t doubt you. Just don’t sue me for assaulting you with the beer, OK?”
Andrea smiled—a genuine smile, not the polite smiles she’d forced as Greg, Ben and Rick competed for her and Lauren’s attention. She disappeared into the restroom for a few minutes and returned as Derek was topping up the pitchers.
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“Let’s try this again, slowly,” she offered, taking one of the pitchers to carry out. “I don’t want to waste the nectar of life.” Derek followed her back to the patio table and deposited his pitcher. She put hers down and took the seat beside him.
“So I heard this is your place?”
“Partly. I’m a third owner with two of my friends from college. They do most of the management stuff and the restaurant side, and I brew the beer.”
“Sounds like a dream job,” Andrea’s smile was warm.
“Yeah.” He paused, watching her. “Is yours?”
“A dream job? No. I just found something I was good at. I think of it as the fuel for my weekends—I spend weekdays buried under paper, so then when Saturday and Sunday come, it’s like I’m allergic to the indoors.”
“What do you do? Outdoors?”
“Everything. I’m obsessed with kayaking right now. I got a boathouse membership this summer so I can paddle all the time without having to drag a boat around.”
Derek quizzed her about kayaking, and then discovered they shared some favorite hiking trails and a passion for hot springs. He ignored Stephanie’s curious glances from across the table, finally relaxed around someone who, at first glance, seemed to be the exact opposite of relaxed.
“I’m sorry about the beer,” Derek apologized again. “You can keep the shirt, if you want it.”
“Oh, I want it,” Andrea grinned. “I’ll wear it when we go paddling. Then I can get my revenge and soak you back.”
Derek’s eyebrows shot up at the unexpected invitation.
“Deal.”
TWENTY-FIVE
September refreshed the city, greening the grass and washing the streets and buildings with rain. Joshua and Aussie’s regular walks became runs as he pushed himself to go further and faster. Aussie leapt forward, tail streaming behind him, exhilarated.
Melina’s office regrouped, abandoning the casual dress that invariably crept in during summer. Now that people were back from vacation and paying attention, the leadership team launched a full-court press for year-end billings, signing clients for marketing services including sweeps TV commercials, holiday print advertising and PR.
The first order of business was the firm’s annual client appreciation event, though staff at Pursuit Marketing knew the friendly title belied a serious purpose. It was a sales frenzy—time to make or break their bonuses.
To promote the event as more of a party than a pitch for new business, spouses were invited. Melina realized that for the first time she would be expected to bring a real date; in years past, she got around this by volunteering for hostess duties.
But now Joshua was coming. And it’s going to be fine, she thought as she skimmed a flatiron through her hair. She’d be proud to arrive at the swanky waterfront restaurant in his newly refurbished Porsche.
For weeks, she detailed the event’s importance and potential impact on her career to Joshua. He showed up at her house on the night of the event clad in jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt.
As she opened the door, Melina’s face twisted from surprise to fury.
“Joshua! How could you? We are going to The Jetty, not some dive bar!” Melina’s eyes were scorching.
He backed up, revealing the garment bag in his hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, babe. I’m not going in this.” He put his arms around her, trying not to smudge her meticulous makeup.
“Oh,” she said, still unsure. “Then what?”
He laid the garment bag out on the couch and pulled out two suits, five dress shirts and nearly a dozen ties. They were surprisingly nice.
“I just figured you’d want to pick. I know how important this night is to you,” he said, soothing.
I underestimated him. She’d lectured him about what to wear, how posh the event would be, and what was expected of him. She thought at some point he tuned her out—after all, no amount of begging would convince him to toss the ratty gray college sweatshirt he wore too often. He really listened to me.
Melina chose a suit and shirt and pressed them into Joshua’s hands. “Go change while I pick your tie. And—thank you.”
Once dressed, Joshua presented himself for inspection and Melina tied a celery green tie that gave a modern edge to his slim-cut gray suit and stark white shirt.
“You’re perfect,” she said, admiring Joshua—the first time she’d seen him so well dressed.
***
Joshua listened patiently to Melina’s instructions in the car.
“Don’t talk too much about yourself, ask about them. Don’t tell clients about me, tell them about my work. Remind them I’m a senior account executive,” she checked her lipstick in the side mirror.
“Tell them about my award for the Robbins-Steen account’s laundry detergent ads. Don’t drink too much. Don’t hold a drink in one hand and take an appetizer in the other—you won’t have a hand left to shake. It’s one or the other. Don’t carry your own business cards, carry mine.”
She thrust a stack of cards into his hand as he drove and he tucked them into his suit pocket.
“I got this, babe,” he said and squeezed her hand.
They rounded a semicircular drive, elaborately landscaped with fountains and night lighting leading up to The Jetty’s entrance. A valet shot forward to open Melina’s door and dutifully looked away as she slid out of the car in a short, silver raw silk dress.
Joshua tossed the keys to the Porsche over the top of the car and the valet caught them, smiling at his good fortune.
“This is a sweet car, man,” he said, admiring the black aubergine paint.
“Thanks. It’s great for racing garbage trucks,” Joshua said with a laugh. The valet didn’t get the joke, but Melina did, and she flushed and took Joshua’s arm as they ascended the steps to the restaurant.
The dining room was transformed—usually dark and intimate, now the restaurant held a dance floor and highboy cocktail tables. Waiters passed silver trays of wine and champagne.
A wall of windows showcased Seattle’s skyline, from the Space Needle to the stadiums, and the night was warm enough that several sliding doors were open to the deck. Well-dressed musicians played Big Band-era standards at just the right volume to fill the space with energy.
Within minutes, Pursuit’s managing partner for Seattle, Lucas Harrington, swept Melina into a discussion about how to approach a high-profile client. Joshua excused himself and ambled to the bar.
“This could be a major win for us,” Lucas told Melina, eyes on the door for the client’s arrival. “Pinnacle Bank’s expanding rapidly from their Midwest headquarters into the Western region, and we’re going to partner up with the San Francisco office to make a big launch happen.”
Melina nodded, her mind immediately considering the opportunities for a rollout. “Positioning will be key—financial institutions usually feel stuffy and full of red tape,” she told him. A marketing and advertising platform that bucked this trend could be successful.
“Confidentially, they’re also buying Graystone Bank, so they’ll be rebranding it throughout Washington in the next few months,” Lucas added. Melina’s eyebrows shot up. Rebranding meant major billings starting in the high six figures. “We brought in a partner from our Indianapolis office who already has a relationship with Pinnacle’s leadership.”
Before Melina could respond, Richard Wister approached—beautifully suited, deep summer tan, eyes crinkling at the corners. He clasped her hand between both of his and kissed it, his eyes never leaving her face.
Melina felt her face heat and Lucas coughed. “I take it, you’ve met already?”
“We worked together in the Indianapolis office years ago,” Richard said smoothly, “before Melina moved here to Seattle.”
Melina nodded in confirmation, still shell-shocked by Richard’s intimate hello. Her hand throbbed where he kissed it and her eyes dropped to his left hand. No wedding ring.
“It was a terrible shame to see her go,” Richard continued. “I
know she’s had great success out here in Seattle, but I often wonder how much more we could have accomplished had we continued our … winning partnership.”
Lucas’s eyes narrowed at the innuendo.
“Seattle has been a good move for me,” Melina clarified, as if pledging allegiance to Lucas’s Seattle office rather than Richard’s.
“So I’ve seen,” Richard said, his eyes tracing her silver dress, lingering at each curve. He reached for her hand and wrapped it beneath his elbow before Melina could protest. “Why don’t we take a few minutes to get caught up again?”
Richard steered them away from Lucas and out onto the relative privacy of the deck facing Elliott Bay.
“It was a shame we couldn’t spend more time together in Miami,” Richard began. “I’m afraid I was a bit preoccupied.”
“With your pool bimbo?”
Richard had the decency to look a bit guilty. “You saw?”
“I saw it, and so did two hundred of Pursuit’s best and brightest.” Melina frowned. “It was subtle as a train wreck, Richard. It was a train wreck—not your finest moment.”
“No. You were my finest moment, Melina,” Richard tugged her closer, as if warding off the late summer’s evening chill. “You had it all—looks, smarts, killer instinct. And, God, we had a great time in bed.”
Melina felt her cheeks heat. This conversation was not going at all the way she’d anticipated. “But you were married.”
“Was married. Not anymore. My divorce was finalized last month.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Melina didn’t know what else to say.
“Really? I hoped you wouldn’t be. You told me you wanted a commitment. And now I’m ready for one.”
Melina’s mind spun, remembering how heartbroken she’d been when he refused to leave his wife for her. How small she’d felt, discarded by Richard, banished to Seattle.
“How could you possibly want me back?” she stuttered.
“Look at you, gorgeous. You’re the total package. You’re making waves in our company, you’ve got a long list of clients and you’ve definitely grown up since you left Indy. You’d fit right in at the club.”
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