“I wouldn’t put it like that.”
“You wouldn’t. But that doesn’t make it any less true. Do I need to remind you of the time when we were sophomores and you convinced those three Northwestern chicks to go camping with us up in Michigan?”
In a moment of cosmic timing a woman in a long black dress strolled past them and threw him a smile over her shoulder, before joining a group across the room.
“See?” Todd said, taking a large swallow from his drink.
Carter shrugged. He and women comprised a mutual admiration society. He wouldn’t apologize for it. Speaking of women, where was LoLo?
“You’re making quite the name for yourself. Heard you were affiliated with Marcus Pearson.”
“For the past eight years.”
“Why would you do that?” Todd asked. “You’re a Richardson. You don’t have to work for anybody.”
Carter’s jaw stiffened. He’d endeavored to be more than his father’s heir, a foreign concept to Todd who’d counted on a cushy position in his family’s banking business after he’d stumbled through college. “My success comes from my hard work and choices, not by an accident of birth.” He hardened his voice and stared Todd down, so his message came across loud and clear.
Message received. Todd lowered his gaze and polished off his remaining champagne in one swallow. He handed it to a passing waiter. “How’s the pussy in DC? Hot, right? All those interns. I know you’re getting laid. It’s all over the blogs,” Todd said.
It was time to end this conversation. From his hair tossing to his inappropriate remarks, it was clear Todd Johnston’s growth had been stunted at the age of seventeen. Carter had enjoyed his teenaged years, but he’d left them far behind. Which is what he planned to do to Todd. “I’m going to check out the rest of the exhibit. See you around.”
Todd looked startled at the abrupt end to their discussion. “Uh…call me if you want to go out for drinks later.” His gray eyes widened as he stared at the entrance. “Although, if I’m with her, keep your distance. You’re looking at my future ex-wife and I don’t need you cockblocking.”
Carter headed to the other side of the room. He actually pitied that poor woman and hoped she had enough intuition to steer clear of Todd, despite his preppy boy good looks. Curious to see the female who’d caught Todd’s attention, he glanced at the entryway and froze.
Holy shit.
LoLo.
His breath caught in his throat and his gaze bonded to her like metal to a magnet.
She was stunning. Her dress was the color of the purest blue of the ocean. It draped over one shoulder, leaving the other bare, and hugged her body to just beneath her hips, where it fell to the floor. It was simple, elegant, and the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He’d seriously have to rethink his “less dress is best” concept.
She scanned the crowd, presumably looking for him, but he savored this brief moment of anonymity. All too soon, he’d have to pretend, to her and to himself, that she wasn’t having an impact on him. But right now, he was free to let the revelation rock him to his core.
She was unaware of her presence, didn’t seem to notice the looks of admiration and envy she garnered. Her guilelessness only emphasized her beauty. The couple beside him moved, leaving him visually unobstructed. He knew the moment she saw him. Their eyes met and held. Heat flooded his body and his heart pounded in his chest. She didn’t look away, and he wondered if she knew what she was doing. If she meant the invitation she was offering. The smile that slowly blossomed on her face suggested to him that she did.
He adjusted his cuffs and straightened his tie. She pressed her hand to her midsection, exhaled, and crossed the room to him. Those glorious curls were back, fiery ringlets framing her gorgeous face. As she walked, the slit at the front of her dress flared open, baring one toned leg and feet encased in silver, strappy heels.
This was the woman he’d always thought she’d turn into and yet his imagination paled in comparison to the real thing. Is this the person she’d been concealing beneath her tailored outfits and straightened hair? If so, he vowed to never let her go back into hiding. The vibrancy of the woman striding toward him should never be diminished.
“Hi,” she said. Her smooth, husky voice reminded him of his favorite whiskey and affected him in the same way.
“You look…incredible,” he said. He took her hand—the touch sent his pulse into overdrive—and held it out to get an up-close and personal viewing of her body in that dress.
She brushed a curl away from her cheek and a diamond stud winked at him from her earlobe. “Thank you. So do you.”
He continued to hold her hand, letting it swing naturally between them as he gazed at her, taking in every last inch of the vision she presented.
“Carter, are we going to stand here all night?” she asked, biting her lower lip. His eyes followed the movement, like a cat tracking a laser pointer’s light.
“Why not? I find you vastly more interesting than the art. But I guess that would be rude.”
“Maybe a little,” she said, smiling as she lowered her lashes and smoothed a hand down the side of her dress.
“Let’s go look at some art.” He offered her his arm and she hesitated briefly before taking it, resting her hand on his bicep as they wandered around the room.
“Since this is your world, why don’t you explain it to me?” His thumb stroked the back of her hand where it rested on his arm.
She shivered. “Okay. You know who Picasso is, right?”
“I know his name and I know his pictures look funky and weird.”
She laughed. “Pablo Picasso is considered the most famous artist of the twentieth century. I’m not sure it’s wise to call him ‘funky’ or ‘weird’ in this crowd. Chicagoans have a special relationship with him. Many in the art community believe he shares a similar vibe with the city. A desire to improve, to change, to never stand still.”
He found her wealth of knowledge incredibly sexy. Carter stopped in front of a piece. “Maybe that’s what they see. All I see is a woman, I think, with two heads and two eyes that are nowhere near each other, and a roller coaster arm. She’s wearing a jaunty hat and sitting in a chair.”
“That one is called Seated Dora Maar. She is a woman and she’s sitting in a chair. So you got those details right.”
He took a closer look. “She reminds me of you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Not the misshapen head. She’s wearing a dark suit and a white shirt. And her poise is so regal and proper. She reminds me of you the morning you came to DC.”
She met his gaze and smiled. “That’s very insightful, Carter. Now look at this one.”
She pointed to a painting of a mother holding a chubby baby on her lap. The images were clear, no misshapen head, no bi-level eyes. He was stunned. “Did he paint this, too? It looks nothing like the other picture. You can objectively tell what it is.”
“It’s extraordinary for one artist to present two masterpieces utilizing two different artistic styles. Not to mention his sculptures. He was a genius who influenced every major art movement of the twentieth century.”
When she noticed several people near them leaning in to openly listen to her, she shifted her body to include them in the discussion. Her passion for art shone in her eyes and manifested itself in her confident pitch and animated gestures. He shuffled closer to her, letting his hand rest on the small of her back. He inhaled and drew in her enticing scent. He wanted to get her alone, find a nice, quiet spot for two, and figure out if he was brave enough to risk another kiss from her lips.
When the preview of the exhibit was over, they headed into the adjoining Griffin Court for cocktails. The elegant, light-filled room with its long rectangular space was perfect for people to move about and socialize. He’d just flagged down a waiter circulating with a tray of champagnes flutes when he saw a tall, angular brunette wrapped in a tight red dress. She was bearing down on them, armed with an air of determination.<
br />
Dammit. Was every woman he ever dated in Chicago in attendance tonight? A leggy redhead passed by them and winked. Maybe, he allowed ruefully.
Beside him, LoLo stiffened and attempted to edge away. Not so fast. He shifted his body to prevent her escape and keep her close. “Where are you going?” he muttered.
“Just trying to give you two some privacy,” she answered.
“It’s not necessary.” He gazed into her eyes. He didn’t want her to leave. And he didn’t want her or anyone else to get the impression there was any other person whose company he preferred to hers. When she nodded, he exhaled the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding.
“Carter Richardson, why did I have to hear you were back from other people?”
“How are you, Ainsley?”
Ainsley looked at their joined hands and her mouth tightened. “I’m spectacular. Don’t you remember?”
LoLo made a strangled sound in her throat, her fingers squeezing his own. He could feel the tension emanating from both women and he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he found it just a little arousing.
“Do you know Lauren Olsen?”
Ainsley raised a sharp, appraising brow. “You work for his aunt, don’t you?”
LoLo nodded.
“While she went through school,” he said. “She has her doctorate in art history.” LoLo’s head jerked around and she stared at him, her lips parting. Pleasure fluttered in his chest and he reached out and caught a vibrant, stray curl, rubbing it between his fingers then smoothing it back from her cheek. The tension melted from her face and a flush danced across her skin. He smiled.
“Well, isn’t that special? So Carter,” she said, turning her body in an attempt to box out LoLo, “when are we getting together?”
For a brief, glorious moment he’d forgotten Ainsley’s presence, which made him aware of how much he wanted to make that circumstance a reality. He widened his eyes, giving her an empty stare. “I’m sorry, I’m here for my aunt.”
“But you’re here with her,” she said, gesturing to LoLo, her twisted tone making it an accusation.
A slow smile tugged at his lips. “Exactly,” he said. “It was good seeing you.”
“So that’s the type of woman you find attractive?” LoLo asked, as Ainsley strutted away.
“What does that mean?”
She shrugged, rolling her eyes and staring over his shoulder.
“She is beautiful,” he said. “But you” —he tilted her chin up until her gaze met his—“are exquisite.”
She withdrew from his touch. “It’s amazing what losing thirty pounds can do.”
“It’s not just the weight. I’ve always thought you were attractive.”
“You don’t have to lie.”
His jaw tightened. “I have no reason to lie to you.” He made it a point to be honest in all his interactions with women. That way there were no misunderstandings, no unforeseen expectations.
“If you found me so goddamned appealing, why did you push me away and laugh in my face when we kissed ten years ago?”
Her chest rose and fell and her eyes shimmered, but her lashes swept down before he could confirm they were tears. Like him, had she been reliving the kiss from that fateful party?
He shook his head. “I didn’t laugh at you.”
“Yes, you did. You laughed, said ‘Thanks,’ and then later you made out with Amy Schlessinger on the patio.”
Had he? He rubbed his jaw, his internal eye searching his memory for the moments after the kiss. Those moments were a blur. All he’d been focused on was putting as much distance as possible between them. He’d known, even then, through some inkling of self-preservation, that kissing LoLo Olsen was an act he should never repeat. Not if he intended to leave. Which he sure as hell planned to do.
“LoLo—
“Lauren,” she said. “My name is Lauren. LoLo was an eighteen-year-old girl. Lauren is a grown woman.”
“I’ve noticed,” he murmured.
“Then don’t forget it.” She turned away, apologizing to the couple she bumped into as she tried to leave room.
Let her go, man. Let her go.
He should listen to his conscience instead of watching her hips sway as she rushed away from him. This was for the best. Things had gone beyond casual flirting or even verbal foreplay. They were venturing from shallow foot pools into substantive waters, and he had a feeling this was an important turning point. If he let her go, he’d stay in Chicago and they’d pretend to be engaged until Dorothy entered the clinical trial. Then he’d go back to DC, she’d head to New York, and things would go back to normal. They may see each other once or twice in the next ten years, speak a few times on the phone, but she’d be out of his life again. Probably for good. But if he went after her…
Fuck.
“Lauren, wait,” he said, grabbing her elbow and stopping her in her tracks. She spun to face him and he took her hand, pulling her to a space on the side of the room nestled between a cocktail table and a large potted plant. She narrowed her eyes and wrenched her arm from his grasp, her curls bouncing with the jarring movement. His fingers tingled and he flexed them. Touching her was fast becoming an obsession. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from doing it again, but his eyes locked with her wide hazel ones, held on tight, and refused to let go.
“I don’t remember laughing, but you know what I do remember? How your hair was piled in curls on top of your head and how bright your eyes were. I remember my heart thudding in my chest and how you smelled of suntan lotion and salt. And I’ll never forget the way you melted in my arms, and the lushness of your kiss. If we’d been anywhere else, without a house full of people, we’d have had one hell of a makeout session…maybe more. Then what? I was going back to law school and I was never coming back here. You were about to begin college. It would have been one moment in time. And you deserved more than that.”
He never expected to have to talk about any of this. And here he was, doing it in public. He could tell from the softening of her expression that his words had brought her closer to him, when he should’ve been pushing her away.
“All this time. I can’t believe I let your rejection affect me, let it influence so much. And I blamed you.” She shook her head, a pained expression marring her beautiful face.
“I never wanted that to happen. I thought I was doing the right thing for both of us.”
As a slow, dazzling smile materialized across her lips, he realized his younger self had been the smarter man. He’d made the wrong choice again. The right thing for the both of them would have been to let her walk out of the gala.
Chapter Eight
“What did you do with the Nile Theatre gala invitation?” Dorothy asked.
Lauren looked up from the iPad on her lap. “I knew you weren’t happy with the event last year, so I declined their invitation.”
“Good. It hasn’t been run the same since Ida passed. What about the Chicago History Museum?”
Lauren shifted on Dorothy’s bed and pulled one leg beneath her, leaving the other to dangle off the edge. “I accepted the invitation to their costume ball and I’ll give those tickets to Allison. She’ll jump at the chance to don a ball gown and represent the family.”
Dorothy nodded. “That’s fine.”
After Dorothy was initially diagnosed, she’d continued to run RichCorp and maintain her duties as matriarch of the Richardson family. But it wasn’t long before her strength deserted her and she spent the majority of her time in bed. Each night, she and Lauren went through the mail, responding to invitations and delegating business correspondence to Dorothy’s assistant, Donald. Even with Carter’s homecoming earlier in the week, Dorothy hadn’t skipped their evening ritual.
“Did you and Carter have a good time last night?”
She’d been so nervous before the gala. She was undecided on Sophie’s advice, but she’d given it a lot of thought. Was she still stuck on Carter? Would she always wond
er what could have been with him and would that keep her from settling down the way she really wanted? Could she take a chance knowing there was a risk he could break her heart?
Standing on the threshold of the gala, her confidence threatened to leave her high and dry. But when his gaze landed on her, it came roaring back. He’d looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world and it rendered her breathless. She could understand why women orbited him. Being on the receiving end of all that charm and magnetism was intoxicating.
“It was…fun,” she said, in the understatement of the millennium.
Dorothy settled back against her pillows. “It makes me happy that you and Carter enjoyed yourselves.”
Lauren’s chest tightened but she flashed a quick smile. “That’s good, because your happiness means everything to me.” She closed the iPad cover and stood. “That’s all for now.”
Dorothy fiddled with the silk-blend material of Lauren’s cover-up. “You’re going for your swim?”
“I have to take advantage of these warm summer nights. Do you have everything you need before I head home?”
Dorothy reached for Lauren’s hand, the touch whisper soft. “Don’t leave yet. Can we talk?”
Lauren froze. She wasn’t sure what Dorothy wanted, but she had a strong inkling it had to do with Carter.
He was never far from her own thoughts. Could she let herself believe what he’d told her about that summer party? That she’d been wrong all these years and he’d wanted her as much as she’d wanted him? That the only reason he’d pushed her away was because he didn’t want to hurt her? Thoughts careened through her mind, never slowing down enough for her to get a handle on them.
Avoiding eye contact, she sank back down onto the silk duvet. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”
“I was thinking about when you first came to live with me after your parents died. You’d just turned thirteen.”
It wasn’t about Carter.
That relief quickly morphed into unease. Dorothy had been talking about the past a lot since her diagnosis. It usually wasn’t a problem, but Lauren didn’t like talking about her parents’ deaths. Their accident had left her alone and unwanted. Both of her parents had been only children and their own parents had died years ago. Fitting into Dorothy’s world had been difficult. It was a life she’d only had glimpses of when her mother worked for Dorothy. Now, she’d been unceremoniously dumped into it. “It was rough at first, but I managed.”
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