by Janice Sims
She peered down at her Jimmy Choos, a pair of strappy, off-white sandals. With the extra three inches their heels provided, her head might be even with Eli’s shoulders.
When she opened the door, she silently gave Patrice her due. Eli, all six feet seven inches of him, was wearing a beautiful black tuxedo and highly polished dress shoes. He was carrying a bouquet of red roses, a box of Godiva chocolate truffles and a huge, fluffy, white teddy bear with a red velvet ribbon tied around its neck.
Belana smiled broadly and asked him in. His Calvin Klein for Men preceded him into the room, but it wasn’t overpowering. She had been right about their heights. She had to tiptoe to briefly hug him hello. Then he was pressing the gifts into her arms. “You look beautiful,” he said in his deep baritone, his eyes raking over her.
“Thank you. You look very handsome tonight,” Belana said as she clutched his offerings to her chest. She glanced at them a moment, then raised her eyes back to his. “You’re too generous. But I love roses and chocolate’s one of my guilty pleasures.”
She squeezed the teddy bear. “And he’s just adorable.”
“I’m glad you like them,” Eli said, giving her a boyish grin. He was a good-looking guy with dark-chocolate skin, chiseled facial features that reminded her of Tyson Beckford’s. The two men had the same sort of dark brown eyes with an Asian aspect to them.
“Have a seat while I put these in water, then we can go,” Belana suggested. She turned and fled to the kitchen. Once in the kitchen, she took a deep breath and set everything on the counter next to the sink. Reaching up into the cabinet over the sink, she retrieved a crystal vase and ran a little water into it.
“Patrice doesn’t have to be right,” she muttered as she put the roses into the vase one at a time. “He’s sweet.”
Because she lived in midtown Manhattan, it didn’t take them long to reach the St. Regis on Fifth Avenue. The affair was held on the twentieth floor. The huge room was beautifully lit by crystal chandeliers and sheer, white curtains hung at the floor-to-ceiling windows.
About two hundred people sat at tables with white linen tablecloths where their names had been handwritten on tiny placards and put at their place settings. Belana and Eli were seated at a table with three other couples. Introductions were made after which Belana made polite conversation with a matronly woman with white hair who wore a vintage Chanel suit in a pale pink, pebbled fabric. Belana was fond of vintage clothing and complimented the woman on her suit.
“Oh, darling,” said the woman in a thick New York accent, “this thing has seen me through every presidency since Kennedy. I bought it when Jackie was First Lady. I so admired her style. This suit has outlasted three husbands.”
Belana smiled at the woman’s analogy. It seemed a good suit was more reliable than some men. A cynical view, but an amusing one.
“Well, it has definitely held up over the years,” Belana said.
They chatted throughout the meal which was delicious: prime rib, twice-baked potatoes, broccoli and cauliflower florets, and for dessert, New York cheesecake with fresh strawberries.
After the meal, several of the players got up and told jokes about their coach. It seemed that the fundraiser doubled as a roast. Following the roast, even though there was a band and a dance floor, everyone stood around and conversed over after-dinner drinks. The topic of conversation was invariably basketball. Belana tried her best to look interested, but she was almost relieved when her bladder started complaining and she had to excuse herself to go to the ladies’ room.
She took her time freshening up. Just before leaving the powder room, she looked into the mirror to make sure her upswept hairdo had not bowed to gravity too much over the course of the evening. She rearranged tendrils of her long auburn hair, applied more lipstick, then rejoined Eli and the others.
As she approached the group of men Eli was conversing with, she noticed the back of a man she hadn’t noticed before. He wore his suit well, and although he wasn’t as tall as some of the players, he was otherwise physically their match. There was something awfully familiar about those broad shoulders and the confident manner in which he carried himself.
When she got closer she noticed that he had a beard, one of those very short, neatly trimmed beards that amounted to little more than a few days’ growth. On some men it looked sexy, as it did on this man, or maybe it was the whole package. From this angle he was utterly masculine-looking. He had a classic profile with a strong, square-shaped jaw, high cheekbones, a rather large nose, and full lips. Plus, he had the kind of rich, dark-chocolate skin she was attracted to in a man. Belana moved around so that she could see his face, then she raised her eyes and nearly gasped out loud. Nicolas Reed. What is he doing here? she screamed in her head. Eli put a possessive arm about her shoulders. She was grateful to have someone to lean on.
Her brain made the connection: Nicolas was a sports agent. This event had a lot of athletes in attendance. Oh, Lord, don’t let him be… she was thinking when Eli cleared his throat and said, “Belana, I’d like you to meet my agent, Nicolas Reed.” He proudly said this as if Nicolas were someone he greatly admired. “Nick, this is my date, Belana Whitaker. Belana’s a principal dancer with the New York City Repertory Dance Theatre.”
Belana tried to smile as she raised her hand to shake Nicolas’s. “Mr. Reed,” she said coolly.
“Miss Whitaker,” Nicolas said, equally coolly. Their eyes met and Belana could see he was just as shocked to see her as she was to see him. Good, she thought, at least I’m not the only one with a racing heart and sweaty palms.
In the ensuing silence, Eli tried to break the ice with, “I think ballet dancers have to be good athletes to perform the way they do.” He smiled down at Belana. “I know I couldn’t do what you do.”
“We definitely wouldn’t want to see you in a tutu,” quipped Nicolas. The other four men laughed uproariously at this, while Nick’s dark brown eyes raked over Belana in a sensual caress that made her heart beat even faster. “Really, Eli, ballet is admittedly beautiful to watch but you couldn’t refer to it as a sport, or the dancers as athletes. It’s an art form. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Whitaker?”
Belana held her irritation in check. So that was how he wanted to play it: go along with her apparent desire to pretend they didn’t know each other. It would be uncomfortable for her to have to explain their association to Eli, and he knew it. He would have his fun, though, by sending subtle digs her way.
“All I know is,” Belana said very deliberately, “that after twenty years of ballet, I’ve sustained numerous injuries, have often worked myself to exhaustion, my body drenched in sweat, and I have a chiropractor on call.”
“Sounds like an athlete to me,” said one of the gentlemen standing in their circle. Belana thought she’d heard someone say he was the team’s chiropractor. His comment elicited a chuckle or two from everyone.
“Of course she’s an athlete,” said Eli, smiling down at Belana with something like worship in his gaze. Belana groaned inwardly. That’s all she needed, having to deal with a smitten date and an angry ex simultaneously. Maybe she could find some excuse to leave, or at the very least a way to get out of Nick’s presence.
She smiled up at Eli. “Dance with me?”
The band was playing a very nice version of Norah Jones’s “Come Away with Me.”
To her surprise, Eli blushed, and ducked his head. “I’d love to dance with you, Belana, but I’m sorry to say I’ve got two left feet.”
Another of his friends laughed good-naturedly. “Big men rarely have any rhythm. Our feet are too big.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Belana said, smiling at all of them. “I’ve seen the fancy footwork you use on the court!”
She grasped Eli’s hand. “Come on, I’ll teach you.”
He was putty in her hands. He let her lead him on to the dance floor and show him how to hold her while they attempted a simple two-step. He stepped on her toes four times inside of three minutes.
With each misstep he looked more embarrassed. Belana, not wanting to put him through the agony any longer, didn’t protest when he said, “We’d better stop before I injure you.”
She got up on the balls of her feet and kissed him on the cheek. “It was sweet of you to try.”
“Anything for you, Belana,” he said, smiling shyly.
Belana felt terrible as they walked back to his group of friends. She had put him through that bit of humiliation all because she hadn’t wanted to face Nick.
As if she’d conjured him up by thinking of him, Nick was suddenly standing in front of them. He glanced at her, but addressed Eli. “I’ll dance with Miss Whitaker if it’s all right with you, Eli.”
Eli looked relieved and grateful all at once. He smiled down at Belana. “If it’s okay with Belana,” he said.
Belana didn’t see how she could refuse without appearing rude. Nick was Eli’s agent and obviously his friend, too. “I’d be delighted,” she said with convincing politeness.
Nick took her by the arm and led her back on to the dance floor. The band had finished the Norah Jones number and had begun the standard, “When I Fall in Love.”
As soon as he pulled her into his arms she knew she was not dealing with an amateur.
His waltz was impeccable. She relaxed a bit in his arms. She hadn’t known he could dance. For the first few minutes they didn’t say anything, simply let their bodies move to the music. Then Nick said, “You colored your hair.”
Belana lifted her head and looked him in the eyes. “You grew a beard.”
Nick’s expression was tender as he met her gaze. His emotions had run the gamut for the past few minutes. Upon seeing her enter the room and then be introduced as Eli’s date, he had been outraged. Anger had rushed through him so rapidly and with such force that it had rocked him to the core. Why was he still angry with her after eight months? Her presence here was unexpected, but that shouldn’t have elicited such a reaction from him. New York was a big city, but it wasn’t unusual to run into people you were trying to avoid. It happened.
Earlier, while they stood talking to several other guests, he had been analyzing his emotions, and he’d come to the conclusion that he still felt anger toward Belana Whitaker because he’d never had the chance to have his say after she’d dumped him. She’d run out of the restaurant and climbed into a waiting taxi. He’d been unable to hail another one fast enough to follow.
Repeated phone calls had gone unanswered, messages not returned. Short of stalking her, he had been helpless to communicate with her. And he was not the stalking type. Nor the begging type. She had made the decision to stop seeing him and he had not forced the issue. However, the fact that she had not even stuck around to hear his side of the story when she’d caught him having dinner with another woman stuck in his craw. He wanted his chance to explain.
“Is this thing with Eli serious?” he asked before he really got down and dirty.
Belana’s eyes met his. “It’s our first date. We haven’t even…”
“Kissed,” Nick finished for her. “I remember you don’t kiss on the first date.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “At least not a real kiss. You just gave Eli a kiss on the cheek.”
“Jealous?” Belana asked, smiling at him.
“A little,” said Nick nonchalantly. “As I recall, I didn’t even get a handshake on our first date.” He gave her an inquisitive look. “So, you’re dating younger men these days? Eli’s barely legal.”
“He told me he was twenty-five!”
“He lied,” Nick stated bluntly. “What twenty-two-year-old wouldn’t lie to date you?”
“Still,” Belana said, casting a glance over her shoulder in Eli’s direction. He was engrossed in conversation with his boys. “That makes me six years older than he is.”
“Don’t be mad at him,” Nick said. He pulled her a little closer. “Now that I have your undivided attention, I’ve got something to say,” he whispered in a steely voice.
Belana’s first reaction at hearing the menace in his tone was to push out of his embrace, but he held her firmly.
“Don’t make a scene,” Nick said. “This won’t take long.” He tried not to be moved by the panicked look in Belana’s big brown eyes. “Calm down,” he said softly. “Nothing’s going to be hurt but your pride, although mine will get a much-needed boost.”
Belana continued to stare up at him, speechless. But she exhaled and relaxed a little.
Sensing that she was willing to cooperate, Nick continued. “Good. That night you caught me having dinner with another woman was the first time I’d seen her. And witnessing the way I ran after you convinced her that it should be the last time.”
Belana was inordinately happy to hear that. She had to school her features to keep from smiling. She continued to gaze up at him intently, hanging on his every word.
“For a long time after you and I stopped seeing each other,” Nick said, “I thought I had been justified in dating someone else. You and I hadn’t talked about dating exclusively. But later, I realized I shouldn’t have been dating her when I was seeing you, even if you and I weren’t exclusive.”
“You did what millions of single people do,” Belana said to be fair. “You were keeping your options open.”
“I didn’t want my options open,” Nick said vehemently, the expression in his deep brown eyes so compelling she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his. She felt weak in the knees and lightheaded with happiness. “If you had told me how you felt about us, I never would have asked her out.”
Belana’s heart thudded as she tried to compose what she should say next in her head. Should she simply tell him that she felt the same way, which she did? Or should she tell him the whole truth? If this was heading toward reconciliation, she owed it to him to be completely honest.
She cleared her throat. “Nick, you’re not going to like this, but I need to tell you exactly why I behaved the way I did that night. Part of me was angry at you for dating someone behind my back, and I truly did feel betrayed. Another part of me was relieved it happened.”
“Why?” Nick asked, frowning, and clearly confused. “Why would ending it with me make you feel relieved if you actually wanted to be with me?”
Belana noticed the song was coming to a close. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Eli approaching the dance floor. He obviously was anticipating the song ending, too.
Belana sighed regrettably. “I don’t have time to explain.”
“When I Fall in Love” ended and the band began playing an upbeat number. “Make some excuse and meet me downstairs in the bar.”
“I can’t do that,” Belana whispered. “Eli’s watching us like a hawk. Something’s made him suspicious.”
“Then call me when you get home tonight,” he said urgently. “You still have my number, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Belana softly.
“I don’t care how late,” Nick said as he led her off the dance floor.
Smiling warmly, Eli approached them and placed his hand beneath Belana’s elbow, reclaiming her. “That looked like fun. I’m definitely going to have to take dance lessons,” he said. While his tone was friendly, Belana noticed the expression in his eyes when he regarded Nick was not so friendly.
“Thanks for the dance, Miss Whitaker,” Nick said.
“It was my pleasure, Mr. Reed,” Belana said politely.
Nick offered Eli his hand to shake. “Thanks for inviting me tonight, Eli. But I have to be going.” He smiled at them. “Enjoy your evening.”
He turned and left the room. Belana stole a glance in his direction as she and Eli walked across the room to their table. It was good that he had decided to leave. Now she could concentrate, without being distracted, on how to tell Eli she couldn’t see him anymore.
Eli held her chair out for her and after she was seated, he bent his long legs and sat down beside her. He was glad the other couples were on the dance floor. What he had to say was best said in private. He sea
rched her eyes. “Belana, there’s something I need to tell you before another minute passes. I lied about…”
“Being twenty-five?” Belana said, smiling at him.
He lowered his eyes, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d go out with me if you knew I was only twenty-two.”
It occurred to Belana that Eli had been watching her and Nick so closely while they’d been dancing because he feared Nick would reveal his true age. Which he had done.
Belana laughed softly. “Six years isn’t such a big deal. But I would have preferred the truth.” She reached over and placed a hand atop his. “That being said, I also have a confession to make.”
“You do?” said Eli, his thick brows arching in surprise.
“Nick and I aren’t strangers,” she said, coming out with it.
“But you acted as if you didn’t know each other!” Eli exclaimed, clearly not pleased with this news. He sat frowning at her, looking petulant and put upon.
“He was following my cues,” Belana explained, offering him an appealing smile. “I didn’t want to explain in front of everyone that I used to date your agent.”
Eli’s frown deepened. “Nick’s your ex-boyfriend?”
“We dated about two months and then there was a misunderstanding and I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore,” Belana explained. “But that’s not the important part. After seeing Nick tonight, I realize breaking up with him was a boneheaded decision on my part. I was unfair to him. He tried to make it up to me, but I stubbornly refused to return his calls.”
Eli put a hand to his forehead as if he’d developed a migraine after hearing her confession. “I don’t know how Catholic priests listen to this kind of stuff year in and year out,” he joked.
Belana was pleased he was taking this so well. It was a good sign that he could crack a joke after what she’d told him. In essence, their first date would be their last.
“This is so weird,” Eli said, looking at her with a woebegone expression in his dark eyes. “You’re breaking my heart. And Nick! Nick has never been anything but honest with me. He asked you to dance to get you alone, didn’t he?”
