by Francis Ray
“Were you two an item?” Truss asked.
“No.” Dianne faced her date with a smile. There had been countless times she hadn’t felt like being “on,” so she’d learned early to mask her true feelings. “I’ve known Alex since I was five. He watched over both his sister and me for so long, it’s a habit. I was feeling the effects of jet lag yesterday, and he was worried.”
Truss stared at Alex as he left the lobby. “I’m not sure that’s all he feels.”
Dianne’s heart thumped. Maybe—
“Let’s get going before they give our table away, and then we’re going to the theater.”
“Wonderful,” Dianne said, but she didn’t feel wonderful. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Alex. Yet she had a feeling that was exactly what she had just done.
Chapter 3
After leaving Dianne’s apartment building, Alex hailed a taxi. This time he knew exactly where he was heading. “Callahan’s on Ninety-fifth Street,” he instructed the driver.
Alex’s hands clenched and unclenched. He felt like he’d been run over by a semi. Had Truss been with her that morning? Were they lovers? He couldn’t think about them being intimate. If he did, he’d tell the cabdriver to take him back to Dianne’s apartment to mess up Truss’s pretty face.
“Ten dollars and fifty cents.”
Giving the man a twenty, Alex quickly got out of the cab. He didn’t stop until he was sitting at the bar. Even on a Monday night, Callahan’s was crowded. C. J. had taken over the bar that his uncle had left to him and turned it into a favorite watering hole of people in the area.
“Hi, Alex,” greeted Mary, one of the three regular bartenders. “I’ll get your beer in a minute.”
“Scotch. Straight.”
Mary paused, stared at him. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if he’d stuttered. Instead he braced his arms on the polished cherrywood surface. He wasn’t going to be one of those people who took their anger out on everyone around them.
The squat glass hit the counter in front of him. Alex picked up the glass and saw C. J. He was six-four of solid muscle. He could be a hard man if crossed. He was wealthy enough to run the bar as a hobby to keep the promise to his long-dead uncle, but he was business-savvy enough to make it turn a tidy profit. C. J. was a man you could count on. “Working the bar tonight?”
“Looks like.”
Alex tilted the glass, felt the scotch burn all the way down. The empty glass hit the counter. He still felt like crap. “Another.”
C. J. didn’t move, just looked at Alex with those piercing light brown eyes of his that saw too much. “Is she worth it?”
“I came here for a scotch, not conversation.”
“You came here to forget, but I can tell you from the experience of my ill-spent youth that when you wake up in the morning, whatever it is will still be eating at you.” C. J. picked up the glass and walked away. Seconds later he returned with two longnecks expertly held between his fingers. “Back booth.”
Alex could leave, find another bar, and have as many scotches as he wanted. The back booth meant conversation. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted … He wanted Dianne.
Sliding off the stool, Alex went to the back booth. C. J. was already there. Alex heard the crack of the pool balls mixed with the ding of the arcade in the area behind him. Taking a seat, he wrapped his hands around the cold bottle in front of him. “I could blame this on Sin for giving me hope that I had a chance.”
“Sin is behind this?” C. J. asked with a frown.
“No.” Alex took a sip of beer. “He was trying to help. Bottom line is I choked and lost the only woman for me.”
“She’s engaged and getting married tomorrow?”
Alex’s brows bunched. “No.”
Lifting his beer, C. J. took a sip. “Then I’d say you’re hitting the bottle a bit prematurely. A smart lawyer like you should have figured that out.”
“I figured out long ago she wasn’t for me. Guess I forgot.” Alex’s hands gripped the bottle, then he took a sip. “I went over to her place tonight to check on her and she was going out with another lawyer who belongs to my Racquetball Club.”
C. J. leaned over and looked at Alex’s hands, then leaned back. “I see your parents’ excellent training came through and you didn’t deck him.”
“She would have still been with him, probably hovering over him as the police carted me off to jail,” Alex said tightly.
“But you would have felt better and not regretted taking the shot when you had the chance.”
Alex shook his head. “You know, you’re downright scary at times.”
“Who is she? And why am I just hearing about her?”
Alex didn’t expect C. J. to acknowledge his uncanny way of reading people. They’d known each other since Alex had moved into his building eight years ago. C. J. had helped the inept movers, then invited Alex to Callahan’s for a beer. They’d clicked and become close friends, along with C. J.’s best friend, Sin, who lived on the top floor in the penthouse.
“Dianne Harrington, a high-fashion international model better known as ‘The Face’ for the House of Harrington. She spends a lot of time in Europe. Has a place in Paris,” Alex said. “She and Catherine have been friends since they were five.”
“I’ve seen her.”
Alex wasn’t surprised. C. J.’s family had a lot of business interests. His mother was highly connected socially. When she made him feel guilty enough, he attended a few high-society events. Alex preferred staying at home with a good book or watching the stars with his telescope.
“Nice legs.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Watch it.”
“Would you prefer I said she was dog-ugly?”
All Alex could do was shake his head. “You know, you’re crazy.”
“Nope. I just say what’s on my mind while other people think about saying it.” C. J. took a sip of his beer.
“You went home to see your parents this weekend,” Alex guessed. C. J.’s parents had a home in East Hampton. So did C. J.’s older brother, his wife, and their two children. C. J. didn’t drink while working, but he’d drunk more beer than Alex had.
“Absence definitely does not make the heart grow fonder,” he finally answered.
“Because you’re so stubborn. Your parents love you. So does your brother and his family. You love them, too.” Alex leaned back in the booth. “You’re just annoyed because you’ll have to wear a suit and tie every day instead of a T-shirt and jeans.”
C. J. made a rumbling sound. “Don’t remind me. If only my brother and Dad didn’t have health problems, and my brother didn’t have to retire early.”
“Understandable. A heart attack and quadruple bypass at fifty would make any sensible man take a long hard look at his life.”
“But why mess up mine in the process?” C. J. practically snarled.
“Running Callahan Software full-time will be different than a bar, but you’ll handle it just as you’ve expertly handled everything else in your life.” Alex nudged his beer aside and stood. “I’m going home.”
C. J. grabbed both bottles by the neck and came to his feet. “You didn’t get in that corner office by giving up without a fight. Go after her if you want her.”
“Everything isn’t always so cut and dried,” Alex said.
“It is if you make it that way.” C. J. lifted the bottles. “Bring ‘The Face’ over one night, and the first one is on the house. I want to see if my memory of her legs is on target.”
Alex pushed C. J.’s broad shoulder playfully, chuckled, and put a twenty in C. J.’s pocket. “Talking was better than the booze. Later.”
“Later, man. My money’s on you.” C. J. held up the bottles. “Remember, we have a reputation to uphold. A renegade wouldn’t let another man take his woman.”
Alex’s features hardened. His eyes chilled.
“Keep that anger; remember the churning in your gut. Go get your woman.”
“I’m
not you,” Alex said.
“Be thankful.” C. J. stepped closer. “I’ve seen you in your full lawyer mode. You’re cool, unflappable. You’re prepared when you walk into that courtroom or into mediation. You saved Callahan Software a butt-load of money in that copyright infringement case. You’ve kept Sin out of court with your airtight contracts. Now use that same sharp mind to prepare a strategy to win your woman.”
“Telephone, C. J.” the bartender called over the loud noise.
“Probably my mother or my brother. I’m supposed to be interviewing an executive assistant, for goodness’ sake,” C. J. said.
“Why not keep Paul’s?” Alex asked.
“Because the sneaky Heath, who’s running things until I get there, already asked for her and Paul agreed. I don’t want an executive assistant; I want to run my bar in peace.”
“I don’t think you have a choice.”
“You want to trade lives?” C. J. suggested, and Alex wasn’t so sure he was kidding.
“No.” Alex folded his arms.
“Some friend you are. And here I was going to tell you to bring ‘The Face’ over on Friday.”
“Sin beat you to it, but I’ll be watching both of you if we come,” Alex said. “Women fall over themselves for you.”
He grinned. “They do, don’t they?”
Alex felt a smile tug the corner of his mouth. “Go answer the phone.”
C. J.’s smile vanished. “I was trying to ignore it.”
“Drinking won’t solve my problem, and neither will ignoring your family solve yours,” Alex told him.
“But it will make me feel better.”
With one final friendly pat on C. J.’s broad shoulder, Alex left the bar and headed down the street to his place. Maybe C. J. and Sin were right. Perhaps he should go after her. They certainly knew more about women than he did. Alex wasn’t a monk, but his focus had been work, specifically making partner by the time he was forty. Perhaps it was time for that to change … if it wasn’t too late.
He’d call her tomorrow and try to get a feel if she was serious about Truss or just dating. Standing back certainly hadn’t gained him anything. He’d invite her to Callahan’s for a friendly game of pool for a start. And when they went, C. J. better not look at her legs.
* * *
Dianne tried to have a good time with Truss, she really did. Truss was a wonderful conversationalist, courteous, and good looking. But his touch didn’t make her shiver and ache.
She’d made the discovery with the first touch of his hand on her bare arm when they walked from her apartment to the elevator. Except for the warmth of his hand, he might as well have been a mannequin.
She’d thought perhaps it might happen if he held her. But when his arm curved lightly around her waist on the short walk to the taxicab, it was the same. Warmth and nothing else.
Later that evening, staring across a candlelit table into each other’s eyes proved just as big of a zero. The food was delicious, the restaurant elegant and quiet. It should have been the perfect place to start a relationship. Perhaps it would have been if even a tiny spark were there and, more to the point, if she didn’t keep seeing the hurt on Alex’s face.
She would have asked Truss to take her back to her apartment after dinner if not for the sold-out Broadway play Truss said he was anxious to see. The theme of unrequited love made her feel more alone, and guilty for being there with him. The woman sitting next to him should have made the evening more enjoyable for him and not wasted his time or his money.
Arriving back at her apartment after the play, she opened the door and stuck out her hand. She wasn’t going to take the chance that he might want to kiss her good night. “Thank you, Truss. I had a wonderful time.”
His smile was off center. “Something tells me you would have had a better time with Alex. Am I right?”
She didn’t know how to respond.
“He’s a lucky man.” Shaking her hand, Truss headed for the elevator.
Inside her apartment, Dianne undressed, took a long bath, then discovered she was too restless to sleep. She felt guilty about the horrible date with Truss, worried about Alex. Getting up, she turned on the lamp by her bed and went to stare into the mirror over the dresser. She didn’t see any dark circles under her eyes, but she would if she continued to have problems sleeping.
That mustn’t happen. She didn’t want to face René with the extra pounds and dark circles. Makeup could mask the dark circles, but she’d rather not give René anything else to ream her out about.
She glanced at the clock on the night chest: 1:33 AM. She bit her lower lip and stared at the phone beside the clock. She wanted to call Alex, but he was probably asleep. If he did answer, what would she say? I foolishly went out on a date to find a man who made my heart race and my skin tingle the same way you do, and learned that you’re the only man who can make me feel that way—and you’re off limits.
Or was he?
She could sit there all night worrying, or she could take the chance. Before her courage failed her, she picked up the phone and dialed. It was answered on the second ring.
“Hello.”
Had he been unable to sleep as well? “Hi, Alex. I know it’s late, but…” Her voice trailed off.
“Dianne, are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She wrapped her arm around her waist. “It was nice of you to check on me.”
“Did you and Truss have a good time?”
She didn’t know if she heard criticism in his question or not. “I didn’t. He probably didn’t, either.”
“What happened? Did he get out of line? I—”
“No, he was a gentleman.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “That was the first time we went out. I thanked him with a handshake. There weren’t any sparks.”
“You want sparks?”
“Don’t you?” she asked.
“One of my top five,” he said, sounding more and more like the playful, dependable Alex.
She smiled and sat on the bed. “And the other four?”
“Secret. Do you think your fluid schedule will allow you to have lunch with me tomorrow?”
For once, Dianne, reach out for what you want. She wanted to be with Alex. “A definite possibility.”
“I’ll see you at twelve at Le Cirque. I’ve made arrangements for us to order from the private dining menu if you wish.”
Alex certainly had the connections. “All right.”
“And Dianne?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for the call.”
Feeling warm and happy, she curled in the bed. “You’re welcome. ’Night, Alex.”
“’Night.”
Hanging up, Dianne turned off the light and pulled the covers up to her shoulder. In a matter of seconds, she was asleep with a smile on her face.
Chapter 4
Dianne saw Alex when she was a few steps inside Le Cirque. Her heart knocked in her chest. Her hand clenched on the small clutch in her hand. He was sexy, elegant, and handsome. What woman wouldn’t respond to him?
Their gazes met, clung. She felt an unfamiliar frisson of heat. The sensation surprised, then pleased her. The erratic heartbeat could be attributed to nerves. The heat couldn’t.
If Alex was the one she decided to have her first affair with, she wanted to feel all the wonderful, giddy sensations she’d dreamed and read about and never experienced.
Crossing the room, seeing him come to his full height of six foot plus, the irrepressible warmth of his eyes on her, she felt her body heat even more. He was genuinely pleased to see her. He wasn’t studying the circus-themed dining room in the contemporary French restaurant, examining the menu, or any of the other things he could have been doing in a place that catered to the visual and epicurean senses. His gaze had been fixed on the entrance. Somehow she knew he’d been anxiously waiting for her. Her explanation of jet lag hadn’t thrown him off.
He worried and cared. They were great points to be conside
red when making her final decision. Or had she already made it?
“Hi, Alex,” she said. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
“You’re worth the wait,” he said.
Dianne’s eyes widened with pleasure and surprise. She’d worn a sunny yellow sheath that reached to midthigh, and four-inch heels in the hope of making just such an impression. Yet in all the years she had known Alex, he’d never done or said anything that indicated he thought of her as anything more than his sister’s best friend.
From the startled, almost embarrassed look on his face, he was just as surprised. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to work so hard to convince him to be the one. She smiled, her decision made. “Why, thank you.” Dianne took her seat.
Taking his chair next to hers, Alex still looked a bit shocked by what he had said. “You must hear that a lot.”
“I do, but it’s usually from people saying what they think I want to hear. You’re different.” She picked up her menu. “Catherine called me this morning. She was bubbling as usual. She and Luke are so much in love.”
Alex relaxed and picked up his menu as well. “She’s happy. Luke is a great guy. So is his whole family.”
“Welcome to Le Cirque. Would you like the sommelier or a glass of wine while you decide on your lunch selection?” asked the waiter with a delightful French accent.
“Tonic water,” Dianne said, handing him the menu. “I already know I want a spinach salad with vinaigrette, if possible.”
Accepting the menu, the gray-haired man smiled. “With pleasure,” he said and turned to Alex. “And you, sir?”
“The same to drink, but I’ll have the roasted beef fillet, fresh asparagus, and herb-roasted potatoes.” Alex gave the man his menu. When he turned to leave, Alex said to Dianne, “You need to eat more.”
“Not according to René.”
Alex frowned. “Who’s that?”
“The head designer at Harrington’s in Paris,” she told him as they were served their drinks. It still rankled. “He said…”
“What?” Alex leaned across the table, his gorgeous mouth set.
