When I Say Yes

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “Be careful, baby.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  We say a quick goodbye, and disconnect just as Katie sits down in front of me and starts rambling about a difficult client who’s a country singer. “I’ll call him. I’ll handle it.”

  “You’re so comfortable with these high-profile people. I guess because you’re seeing Dash Black, right?”

  Obviously, that’s a topic she really wanted to bring up. “I live with Dash, Katie.”

  Her eyes go wide. “You live with him?”

  “Yes. I do. It’s new, but pretty wonderful.”

  “Oh my God.” She holds her heart. “You’re like Cinderella.”

  I laugh. “No. I’m not. And believe me, just because someone is famous does not make them Prince Charming. My father is someone famous and he’s definitely not.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Enough about me for one day,” I say, shifting topics. “What do you know about Benjamin?”

  “Not much. He’s nice enough, I guess. Some of the agents are not, but he’s nice to the staff. Why?”

  “He’s going to have his secretary offer to help us. Do we want her help?”

  “I don’t know her, but usually if someone is a bitch that gets around. I think we can use the help. Are you okay with that?”

  “Maybe. Let me think about what we could give away safely. What was his involvement with Allison?”

  “I didn’t know they had any. Why do you ask that?”

  “He said he wasn’t surprised she was gone, but I didn’t get more out of him.”

  She frowns. “What did he know that the rest of us didn’t?”

  Exactly, I think. Exactly.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Dash wakes the next morning inspired by the storyline of Ghost in an underground fight club, apparently really inspired, because he brushes his teeth, kisses me, and then goes hunting for his MacBook. I head to the bathroom, shower, and dress in a belted navy-blue dress. I’ve already finished getting ready for the day and there is no sign of Dash. A little concerned something is going on, I grab my things and head toward the living room to find him sitting at the kitchen island, pounding away on his keyboard. Of course, he’s still in his pajama bottoms and a snug white T-shirt stretched across his impressive chest, but it doesn’t make him look hot. He makes it look hot.

  I sit down beside him and sip from his cup. “You really are inspired,” I comment.

  “That’s how it happens for me. In waves. Therefore, me and the coffee pot are cozying up right here at this counter today,” he says, but his mind, at least for the moment, is no longer on his work.

  He reaches for my mug, his eyes meeting mine as he presses his mouth to the exact spot I’ve just sipped, the intimacy of us sharing that coffee doing funny things to my belly. We live together now, I know, but all these little things that become “us” things are new to me. Yes, I was engaged to Brandon, but there was nothing remotely familiar about that and this.

  “Morning. baby,” he murmurs, as if to say, this is a breather, a moment for us.

  “Good morning, Dash,” I say, smiling. “I can’t wait to read the book.”

  “Soon,” he promises. “Very soon.”

  “Since you’re inspired to finish up, should I bring you lunch?”

  He sets the cup down and rotates to face me, mischief lighting his eyes, a one-day sexy stubble shadowing his jaw. “Will you have time to be naked?”

  I laugh. “No, and neither will you. You’re inspired and should stay that way. I’ll send lunch.”

  “Probably a good idea, though I like the part where you’re my lunch much better.”

  I smile and kiss his cheek. “I’ll tell Bella not to bug you today.”

  “Now that is a good idea, if I ever heard one,” he agrees. “If she asks me my word count one more time, I’m going to stop taking her calls.”

  I laugh and leave the house feeling happier than I remember ever feeling and why wouldn’t I be? Watching Dash work is a bit like watching the wonder of a rainbow streaking the blue sky with colors. Everything about his process, from his facial expressions while he types, the intensity of his keystrokes, to the gallons of coffee he drinks, intrigues me. He hasn’t asked me to read his work again and I have a feeling that’s a good sign. This book is going to be brilliant. He needs no validation.

  Once I’m in the elevator I text Bella: Dash is still in his pajamas writing. If he can stay in his zone maybe you’ll get that book early.

  In other words, she answers, don’t call him and tell him that one of the studios wants to come here to meet him.

  Not if you want the book early, I reply.

  Okay, so you tell him. It’s Nick Snyder. He wants to come next Tuesday, she replies.

  I’ll tell him, I promise.

  The elevator dings and I slide my phone into my bag before exiting and cutting right to the lobby. That’s where a short woman in a fitted cream-colored dress that I’m quite certain is Chanel, turns to greet me. “You must be Allie,” she says. “I’m Jessica, Benjamin’s assistant. He’s officially out of town for a couple of weeks. I’m at your service.”

  Jessica is short, full-figured, and has waves of blonde curly hair with freckled cheeks that she pairs with impeccable style. She’s also friendly enough and I don’t feel I can really turn down help right now. Not when it appears to be more than talk.

  I chat with her a bit and we head to my office.

  Much later, she and I are sitting together at a table in the cafeteria, sipping coffee and going over the auction details, I use the time to do a little digging. “I can’t believe Benjamin could spare you.”

  “He’s actually a really generous person. He’s arrogant and a bit of a show-off, but absolutely a good guy.”

  “Your help is appreciated. Allison leaving so abruptly took everyone off guard and left me chasing a fast deadline. Well, except Benjamin. He told me it didn’t surprise him.”

  “Really? What did he say?”

  “Just that. He wasn’t surprised. He didn’t elaborate. Maybe they had a personal relationship.”

  “I doubt it. He’s into blondes. And I usually know the flavor of the day. He does run through the women. I’ve found him to simply have a good read on people. Obviously, he believes you’re going to be staying around because I’m here, helping you. He didn’t have me help Allison.”

  “Yes, well, she had a bit more time than me to plan this.”

  Her brows knit. “It is curious that she left. She had a lot of buzz in the firm like she was climbing the ladder.” She snorts. “She probably left for a man, right? It’s always a man.” Katie chooses then to join us and the conversation is over, at least, on the topic of Allison.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  I order food for Dash for lunch, but I don’t call him for fear of breaking his concentration. I’m stuffing a salad in my face when he instead calls me. “Neil is meeting with Tyler today, right now actually,” he informs me. “Tyler is giving him the security footage from the house you and Allison stayed in.”

  “That’s good news, right?”

  “It’s something to work with,” he says, “though Tyler told him he’s been through it all, even the footage for the office.”

  “So not much help,” I comment, feeling a bit defeated when it comes to the hunt for Allison. “What about Benjamin? Was he personally involved with Allison?”

  “Outside of them sharing a few calls and text messages, still nothing significant.”

  “He sent his assistant to help as promised. She sings his praises and says that if Benjamin knew what others did not about Allison, then he’s just a perceptive guy. I don’t buy it. To me, if he knew more about her than anyone else, then the communication, no matter how minor it might have seemed, might be significant, right?”

  “Neil looked at the dates of the communications and they occurred weeks before she seems to have disappeared.”

  “Oh. Well, that doesn’t seem to
be leading where I was thinking it might. So now what?”

  “Let Neil keep digging, baby, but this isn’t always a fast process. And Benjamin wasn’t the only person who knew Allison wasn’t going to stay at Hawk Legal. Tyler knew.”

  “Right,” I say, but I resist going down that rabbit hole. “Is Benjamin close to Tyler? Could he have known something about Allison through Tyler?”

  “No.”

  When we hang up, I repeat two words in my mind: Tyler knew.

  My gut twists in a tight knot.

  ***

  That night I work late, stuck on the phone with more than one of the Hawk clients donating to the auction. When I finally leave, it’s at Dash’s prodding. He calls and I answer to hear, “I’m coming to get you and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  My lips curve and I say, “Well, if you’re not taking no for an answer—”

  “Good. I’m already walking in that direction.”

  “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  We disconnect and I load my bag, slide it on my shoulder, and I’m ready to leave. Exiting my office, I walk through the dark hallways and hit the button for the elevator. It’s a bit spooky and I’m more than a little relieved to have the doors open fairly instantly. I step inside the empty car and it hangs, kind of like the ones in horror movies, when the girl is trying to escape the monster, but slowly begins to close.

  It’s almost there when a male hand catches one side and it jerks back open.

  I hold my breath, my heart racing as Tyler appears in the opening.

  I’m both relieved and on edge.

  He joins me, punching the lobby button I’ve already pushed, for good measure. We turn to face each other and tension pulses between us. I flash back to the night I ended up in a car with his father, and I decide that while, yes, this is awkward, it’s different. Tyler is someone I know. His father is someone I don’t know.

  “You think something happened to her,” he says, his voice tight as a whip.

  Obviously, his communication with Neil brought us to this conversation. “I told you I was worried. I asked you to worry with me.”

  “What if she just doesn’t want to be found? She hates me. I told you that.”

  “Aren’t you giving yourself too much credit, Tyler? I have her journal and while, yes, she loved you, loves you,” I amend, “she was, is, a strong independent woman. Maybe she just had enough of not being enough for you.”

  His expression tightens. “That was her journal on your desk. You have her journal.”

  It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “Yes. I have it.”

  “And?”

  “She got involved with someone after you. She thought it was a mistake. She feared it was a problem. And the entries end abruptly. Do you know who it was?”

  “Brad Waters. She was involved with him.”

  “Let’s hope it’s not him because he’s looking for her, too. You know that. He came here to find her. Who else could it have been?”

  “I have no idea,” he says tightly, “but it seems clear to me that if I don’t know where she is and he doesn’t know where she is, she chose to leave.”

  “Why do you keep going back to that?” I demand, starting to get angry with him. “Why can’t you worry about her with me? Why can’t you see another possibility other than her leaving so that you can help us find her?”

  “Ms. Wright,” he snaps.

  “Allie.”

  “You’re asking me to consider the idea that something happened to her, that she’s no longer on this earth. In other words, I drove her in the wrong direction, I let her go, I pushed her to what became her fucking demise. And so, you have your answer. That’s why I’m not willing to consider anything but she left because she wanted to leave. Do you understand me?”

  At this point, he’s close, really close and I don’t even know when the door opened, but it’s open.

  “Allie,” Dash says softly, apparently having witnessed at least part of this from outside the car.

  Tyler grits his teeth and turns, his eyes meeting Dash’s for an intense moment before he exits the car, cutting left toward the garage elevators. I exit and step in front of Dash, his hands sliding to my waist, warm and protective, which feels really nice right about now.

  “What was that?” he asks.

  “He’s afraid Allison is gone, Dash. Really gone.”

  A chill races down my spine and back up again because I am, too.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  On the Tuesday of the next week, I work late, while Dash has drinks with a group of studio execs intent on winning his TV show rights. It’s really looking as if by Thanksgiving, which is fast approaching, Dash should have a home for his TV show. I’m actually eager to get home to be there when he returns to hear all the news. Bella plans to come over for the same reason.

  I’m just thinking about packing up, when to my shock, Jack—Hawk Senior—appears in my doorway. “Oh good, I caught you. I have some people I want you to meet. Meet me on the rooftop in fifteen, will you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer.

  Nerves assail me. What the heck is this? I text Bella: Jack just told me to meet him on the rooftop. There are people he wants me to meet.

  I know he had a couple of record producers in today, she replies. Maybe he’s involving them in the auction.

  Maybe. I don’t know. It’s a little unexpected. I’ll meet you at the house. Just let yourself in.

  I always do, she jokes, because yes, she does. She caught me in my bra and panties this past weekend when she showed up at the apartment unexpectedly.

  Nervous about the unknown portion of this meeting, I fix my face and then head upstairs. As soon as I enter the rooftop room, I find a group of men at a table, the Nashville city lights twinkling through the nearby windows. Oh yes, this will be a brilliant place for the auction. I make a mental note to hire a photographer. How have I not handled that part of the party? And can I even get one this late?

  Jack must spot me because he stands and motions me to the table. Before long, I’m sitting with a group of five men, all players in the music industry, talking about the auction. Thank you, Queen Compton, for preparing me for this with the hundreds of similar presentations she entrusted me with. When I’ve finished my pitch, I’ve received a twenty-thousand-dollar donation for the charity, and hold the cards of two men with pricey items they’d like to run through Riptide. I’m elated. Mark will be elated as well, but act as if he is not. That’s Mark. It’s kind of Tyler as well.

  It’s not, however, Jack. When the men leave, he raves. “You were brilliant. You got one of the stingiest guys in the business to write a check. You should be an agent.”

  “I’ve dealt with enough agents to know I don’t want to be an agent. And you do know I’m going to stay on with Riptide, right?”

  “But work here,” he supplies, his intelligent eyes calculating in a way I can’t quite size up. “I believe having Riptide on-site drives up our stock. They all knew you were a Riptide representative. You just helped me get the word out about our new partnership. How about I buy you a drink to celebrate?”

  I’m sure this is just how Jack operates, but I have a funny feeling in my belly, and not funny in a good way.

  “I actually have to be somewhere tonight.” I glance at my watch and find it’s almost eight. “I really need to head home. Thank you for the opportunity, Jack.”

  “My absolute pleasure, Allie.” His cellphone rings and he snags it from his pocket, glances at the number, and then at me. “I’ll stay up here and take this. Be careful going home.”

  “Thank you again.” I hurry out of the room and to the elevators and I don’t know why, but I feel uncomfortable when there is not one single reason I can find to feel anything but happy.

  ***

  I arrive home to find Bella drinking wine and watching her father’s race on the television. She has a glass waiting on me and fills it. It’s not long until Dash is home and joining us. “Th
ey want Ryan Gosling to play Ghost,” he says. “This isn’t The fucking Notebook.”

  Bella and I laugh, and then I ask, “Who do you want to play Ghost?”

  “An unknown,” he says. “People need that person to be Ghost, not Ryan-fucking-Gosling. They need to be surprised by how much they love the guy.” He leans in and whispers, “Like me with you.” He kisses my neck.

  Bella starts screaming as her dad crosses the finish line and I hop up to shout with her. Dash is laughing as she and I hug. Happy is the word of the night. I’m happy. I have no idea why I was feeling weird earlier, but it’s most certainly past now.

  After the race has ended, Bella, Dash, and I debate Dash’s Hollywood options and Bella writes down points of negotiation. It’s then that Dash receives a call, listens, and says little, as whoever it is talks to him. When he disconnects, Dash says, “Brandon just got on a plane. He’s leaving. It’s done.” His hand is on my leg and he squeezes gently.

  Bella beats me to the punch and asks what I would. “Are you sure?”

  “One hundred percent sure,” Dash confirms. “He was pushed out of the country and I promise you, he will not risk coming back.”

  “What did he do, Dash?” I press yet again when he’s previously denied me that information. “I really need to know. Protecting me is great, the less I know, the less to incriminate myself—I get that. But I also need closure.”

  “Aside from stealing from his employer? Insider trading and not in a little way.”

  I don’t ask more. On some level, I guess I knew he was a bad person and bad people do bad things.

  Not long after that, Bella heads home and instead of Dash and I talking about Brandon, we talk through a bit of a plot issue he wrote himself into today. We got to bed in each other’s arms, and in the middle of the darkness, he says. “I’ve never had anyone I’d plot with, Allie. No one.”

  But he does with me.

  “I like it,” he adds.

  “I like it, too,” I murmur, and I slowly slide into sleep, feeling safe—and yes, happy—in his arms.