by Melody Grace
“I stand up for what I believe in,” Eliza corrected her. “We all should.”
“Yes . . .” Paige made a face. “But there’s a time and a place, and sometimes you make a big deal about it, just to prove a point. I’m not saying what Cal did was right,” she added quickly. “But based on your experiences together so far, I can maybe see why he would be nervous, introducing you to that crowd. The newspaper article?” she reminded Eliza. “The thing with his tires?”
“That was before I knew him. I see how much the Foundation means to him,” Eliza protested, feeling uncomfortable now. “I would never have ruined the night.”
“But did he know that?” Paige asked gently.
“He should have trusted me.” Eliza folded her arms. “And given me a chance before assuming the worst about me.”
“The way you did for him?”
Paige’s question made Eliza uneasy, but before she could answer, her cellphone rang.
Eliza’s heart leapt.
“Well?” Paige asked, her eyes wide.
“You look. If it’s Cal, I don’t want to talk to him,” Eliza lied.
Paige scooped up the handset. “It’s not him,” she said, and passed the phone. Eliza felt a swell of disappointment. She cleared her throat and answered. “Hello?”
“Eliza Bennett? This is Ted Chambers, we met at the gala last week?”
Eliza nearly dropped the phone. “Hi,” she said, confused. “What can I do for you?”
“Listen, as Cal said, I’m putting together a new magazine.” Ted’s voice was jovial. “I’d love for you to come in and chat about some opportunities we may have for you.”
“Um, sure,” she answered.
“Perfect, I’ll hand you over to my assistant to schedule the meet. Looking forward to talking more.”
The line went silent, and then a brisk-sounding woman came on to set up an appointment for Eliza the next morning. By the time she hung up, she was more confused than ever.
“Well?” Paige asked expectantly. “What was that?”
“A job,” Eliza said slowly. “Or at least, an interview. I think. At Chambers publishing.”
“Yes!” Paige exclaimed. “Does this mean you might wear actual pants? Oh, I have the perfect interview outfit for you,” she continued, leaping up. “This vintage pencil skirt with a cute silk blouse. Very Desk Set, you’ll be great.”
Eliza let her sister chatter as she pulled down clothing from her storage rails. Inside, her head was still spinning from the unexpected call. Did Ted Chambers know about the breakup? Had Cal put him up to it? Was this a favor, some way of letting her down gently?
But after the way they’d parted, she couldn’t see Cal going out of his way to recommend her for a job. So that meant Ted still thought she was Cal’s girlfriend—one of the in-crowd. He’d probably take one look at her resume and regret inviting her in.
Still, it was something. She had no idea what kind of work he was offering, but Eliza knew it was time to get off the couch. Literally. So, the next morning found her walking into the lobby at Chambers Publishing, hoping she looked more confident than she felt. Thanks to her sister’s eye for fashion, she at least looked like she belonged as she stepped into the elevator with a cluster of other stylish women and was whisked to the tenth floor.
“Eliza Bennett, here for Mr. Chambers?” she asked the receptionist, but Ted was already striding across the office.
“Eliza, great to see you. Come, we’re set up in the conference room. Wasn’t that gala a blast?” he said, leading the way. “The Prescotts sure know how to throw a party. Did Cal meet the fundraising goal in the end?”
“I’m . . . not sure,” Eliza said, hurrying to keep up.
Nope, he definitely didn’t know about the breakup.
Ted led her into a comfy-looking conference room with views of the skyline. He took a seat at the table, and Eliza cautiously perched on a chair, too. “Tea, coffee, coconut water?” he offered.
She shook her head. “No, thank you.”
“Straight to business, I love it. Now, let me tell you a little about the magazine we’re launching,” he said, leaning forwards with an enthusiastic smile. “Glow, the newest bible for women. Fashion, relationships, style . . .” Ted launched into his pitch, painting Glow as a must-read for every fashionable woman in America.
Eliza listened cautiously. She’d written for these kinds of magazines before, but she’d never worked there. One look at the glossy, polished office culture, and it was clear she and her sneakers didn’t fit. But she wasn’t about to turn up her nose at a real live job offer, especially one that could let her get back to her first love: journalism.
The question was, did Ted really know what he was getting himself in for?
“ . . . indispensable reporting.” Ted was finishing up. “So, what do you think? I have a staff writer slot open, great benefits package. You could be helping shape the magazine from the ground up.”
Eliza paused, torn. “It sounds great,” she agreed. “But, I have to be honest with you, I may not be the kind of writer you’re looking for. I love features and profiles, but I don’t write puff pieces. If you want someone to write a glorified press release of a new skin cream . . . that’s just not me.”
Ted chortled. “I’ve read your portfolio. I know exactly what I’m getting myself into.”
Eliza exhaled in relief.
“You’ve got a voice, a point of view, and sure, it may ruffle a few feathers sometime, but that’s what I need if I’m going to make this magazine stand out from the crowd.” Ted leaned back and gave her a thoughtful look. “The question is, is Glow right for you? What do you want next from your career?”
Eliza blinked, thrown. It was the same question she’d thrown at Cal like an accusation, but now, it didn’t feel so simple.
Ted grinned. “Why don’t you take a couple of days to think it over? We’ll email the offer details, and you can decide if we’re the right fit.”
“Thank you.”
Ted stood, clearly not the guy to hang around on formalities like a real interview. Eliza followed him out to the reception area, then paused. She knew she should just take the offer at face value, but she couldn’t make the decision without knowing the truth. “I have to ask, did Cal put you up to this?”
“Cal? No,” Ted said, shaking his head. “I actually had your name on a shortlist before we ran into each other last week. I figured it was a sign. Loved that profile you did of Mindy Kensington,” he said with a wink. “What I wouldn’t have paid to be in the Mayor’s house the day that hit!”
He strolled away, chortling, leaving Eliza by the elevators alone.
She should be happy that she’d earned the offer on her own merits, but she felt an inexplicable sense of disappointment instead. If Cal had set this up for her, it would have shown he was thinking about her. That he cared.
But Eliza needed to face the truth.
He’d moved on. No calls, no messages, no reason to ever see her again.
It was clear, as far as Cal Prescott was concerned, she was in the past.
21
Cal had a headache. A raging, pressure-cooker, five-day headache that had settled around his skull like a vice, squeezing almost hard enough to make him forget the bullet wound of a broken heart torn clear through his chest.
Almost.
“Christ, mate,” Declan exclaimed. “If I’d known you were going to be such a buzzkill, I would have left you moping at home. You’re seriously cramping my style.”
Cal nursed his whiskey and glared. “Thanks for the support.”
“You don’t need my support, you need to get laid. Which is never going to happen with that scowl on your face. Look, the bar’s full of beautiful women, and none of them will come near us.” Declan looked mournfully around the busy city bar. “Some wingman you’re turning out to be.”
“I thought you were the one helping me get over things,” Cal pointed out. “ ‘Come have a drink,’ ” he mim
icked his friend. “ ‘Get your mind of Eliza.’ ”
Cal winced. Even saying her name was like a knife in his gut. Was there any part of his body that wouldn’t be hurting by the end of the night?
“Change of plan,” Declan said cheerfully. “I know a lost cause when I see one. You’ll do nothing but scowl all night, but me? I have possibilities. Like that blonde. Or her friend. Or both of them.”
“Congratulations,” Cal said, deadpan. “I’ve very happy for the three of you.”
“Aw, come on, buck up. I mean, Eliza’s great and all, but please, did you really see it ending any other way?” Declan drained his beer and gestured to the bartender. “You guys are like oil and water. It was never going to last.”
Cal lifted his head. “You really thought that?”
“Nope, but I’m trying to make you feel better here,” Declan grinned. “Is it working?”
“Not by a long shot.”
“There’s an idea,” Declan said, smiling wider. “Shots. Can’t mope around over a woman if you can’t even remember your own name.”
Cal couldn’t argue with the logic, but he already knew it wouldn’t work. Even after three shots of tequila, another two whiskeys, and a beer to wash it all down, he still couldn’t get Eliza’s teasing smile out of his mind. He rolled out of the cab back at his apartment and stumbled to the couch, collapsing onto the cushions and staring up at the ceiling as it spun.
Why the hell did he have to mess things up this time?
Eliza wasn’t the kind of woman to hand out second chances; he’d known that from the start. But still, he’d been so wrapped up in the gala and impressing everyone, he’d forgotten that the most important person in the room was the one on his arm. She’d mattered more than any high-rolling donor or snooty society dame, but he’d steamrolled right over her, and behaved like one of those jackasses he’d spent so long trying to convince her he wasn’t. Even when she confronted him, he hadn’t realized what was on the line. It wasn’t until he was sitting back at that table, the empty seat beside him, that it had hit Cal like a damn anvil.
She was gone.
That knowing, mischievous smile, the flash of challenge in her eyes. Her warmth, her smart mouth, and God, her incredible body. He’d driven it all away. But worse than anything he’d lost was the fact he’d made her feel like she wasn’t good enough. He could see it now, that flash of misery in her eyes. It had cut him so deep, he knew there was no chance of saving them. Not after he’d gone and done that. It had hurt like hell to go along with her breakup, but damn, he deserved to hurt. And hurting he was, stuck in a prison of his own making, with nothing but time to count the mistakes he’d made.
And top of that list was falling in love with a woman who made him feel, for the first time, that he truly belonged.
Because now that he knew how that felt, he couldn’t settle for anything else again.
* * *
“Get up.”
Cal groaned. The sun was so bright it hurt his eyes, and his headache was back—with a killer dose of hangover.
“Get up, we’re going to be late!”
Tish’s voice pierced through his skull, and Cal rolled over in bed. “Go away.”
“Believe me, there’s a dozen other things I’d rather do besides drag your stinky ass out of bed, but we have that board meeting at eleven.”
Cal squinted, confused. “We just had one.”
“Yes, and if you’d been paying attention instead of mooning over your girlfriend, you’d know we tabled a bunch of things to this week.” Tish yanked the covers away. “Jesus, did you drink a whole brewery last night?”
“I went out with Declan.”
“Mystery solved.” Tish sighed, then rummaged in her handbag. “Water. Aspirin. Emergen-C. Drink it all, and meet me in the car in ten minutes,” she said, shoving the items at Cal. “Oh, and cuz? Breath mints are your friend!”
The last thing Cal wanted was to face the Prescott board right now, but he knew playing hooky wasn’t an option. This was his responsibility, so he dragged himself into the shower and a clean set of clothes, and met Tish downstairs where—thank God—she was waiting with a cup of coffee. “Angel,” he said, grabbing the cup.
She leaned in and sniffed suspiciously. “Better. Oh, I should warn you, Dad’s on the warpath. Something about marginal growth estimates? Either way, watch out.”
“Perfect.” Cal massaged his temples with his free hand. “Anything else I should know?”
“That you’re being an idiot and need to make up with Eliza.”
“Besides that.”
“Come on,” Tish said, as they got into the waiting car. The driver headed downtown, while Cal tried not to burn his mouth on the coffee. “You know she’s perfect for you. I don’t understand why you’re not halfway to Sweetbriar Cove to rent out the gazebo or hire a flash mob, or do whatever it is guys do when they have a ton of money and want to make a grand romantic gesture.”
“Are you finished?” Cal asked.
Tish grinned. “Maybe. It depends. Are you going to take my advice?”
Cal shook his head. “It’s no use. It’s over.”
“Quitter.”
“You didn’t see the way Eliza looked at me,” Cal said with a heavy heart. “She’s not the forgiving kind.”
“Everyone makes mistakes.” Tish frowned. “She didn’t give you a chance to grovel at her feet and explain?”
“I didn’t even try,” Cal said. “What’s the use? She told me it’s over.”
Tish thwacked his arm so hard his coffee nearly spilled. “Hey!” he protested.
“For a smart guy, you sure can be dumb sometimes,” Tish said, looking exasperated. “How is she supposed to know you’re in love with her if you don’t even try to work things out?” She watched him, her eyes narrowing suddenly. “You did tell her you love her, right?”
Cal looked away.
“Honestly!” Tish exclaimed. “You’re useless!”
“You and Declan should start a club,” Cal said, managing a smile. “Unsupportive Friends Unite.”
“You know I’ve got your back,” Tish said, smiling. “And part of that means sometimes you need a shove.”
“Off a cliff?”
“Maybe just a small staircase,” Tish laughed. “Knock some sense into that thick skull of yours. Don’t you even know what you want anymore?”
Her words brought back the echo of Eliza’s voice. When are you going to figure out what you want from life?
Cal shook off the memory. He needed to focus, especially if he was going to make it through this meeting.
They reached the Prescott headquarters and headed up to the conference room, where Uncle Arthur was already waiting. “Calvin.” He nodded approvingly. “I just got off the phone with the Midwest. He says you had a productive call. They’ve made a list of cost-cutting targets that should bring us under budget again.”
“I’m putting together the full report,” Cal replied. “You’ll have it next week.”
Arthur patted his shoulder. “Excellent work. And I’ve been hearing nothing but glowing reports about the gala. Excellent PR for the company.”
“And the million dollars we raised for the cancer research doesn’t hurt either,” Cal added.
“I suppose not.”
They headed into the meeting. Luckily, despite his late night, Cal had plenty of notes stored on his phone about current business, enough to bluff his way through the discussion. He’d thrown himself into work, hoping to smother the pain in financial projections. It hadn’t worked, but at least he could hold his own today as the meeting got underway.
You have a good heart and a brilliant mind, but you’re just going blindly along with what everyone else wants for you.
Cal tried to focus on the numbers in front of him, but Eliza was in his ear again, challenging him, making him think about questions he’d never had to answer. After all, his path was set. The Prescott heir, CEO, his father’s son. He had a job to d
o and a name to live up to. That wasn’t up for debate.
Was it?
Cal looked around the room, everyone deep in conversation. The decisions they made in here affected thousands of people. It was both a privilege and a duty, that’s what he’d always been told, as if the whole company would fall apart without him at the helm. But he was just one guy, still learning the ropes. The only reason he was even sitting there was his last name, and if the past year had taught him anything, that name could do plenty of good in other ways.
I believe in what I’m doing.
And just like that, he knew exactly what he needed to do. As if the decision had been made long ago, and he was simply waking up to what he’d already known.
Cal cleared his throat. “Can I please have your attention for a moment?”
The room fell silent. They all turned.
“There’s an order of business,” his uncle said, looking disapproving.
“I know, but this won’t take a minute.” Cal took a deep breath. His headache had lifted, and his mind was clear for the first time in days. “I’m resigning from my position as CEO, effective immediately.”
There was an audible intake of breath.
“I’ll still keep my seat on the board, but I’ll be running the Prescott Foundation full-time from now on.” Cal found himself smiling. “This year, we raised three million dollars for important causes, and next year, I plan to double that.”
“Calvin—” his uncle started, looking furious. Cal cut him off.
“My decision’s made,” he said firmly. “And if you’re looking to keep the CEO position in the family, my vote’s for Tish. She’ll do a better job than me.”
“I will,” Tish spoke up. “No offense,” she added to Cal.
He grinned. “None taken.”
There was a pause, and then one of the board members got up and rounded the table. “Congratulations,” he said, reaching to shake Cal’s hand. “I’m sure your parents would be very proud of you.”
