After the Storm

by Katy Ames

  If it wasn’t for the heat of his breath against her temple Sadie would have thought she’d imagined it. The implication, the innuendo. Which all but disappeared as Jack casually made his way over to the men scattered throughout the bar, tossing a drink order over his shoulder to a bartender, and lowering himself into one of the club chairs as if it had been left vacant just for him.

  Sadie would have dwelt on it. Would have considered it odd. Would have dwelled on how inappropriate it was. But her phone rang, the name of her second in charge flashing across the screen. Another crisis that required attention. Not a life threatening illness. Or the collapse of a nation. But a crisis that she was paid to handle. Which is what Sadie headed off to do.

  Sadie didn’t know that Jack sat in his luxurious chair in the bar watching her contemplate his words. Watching that flush creep back up her neck and linger, before it dissipated under the demands of her job. That he rubbed his fingers over his palm again and again, remembering the heat that had settled beneath his skin where they had touched. That he had no clue what Sinclair from Acquisitions shouted across the bar, causing Todd from Finance to slam his drink down so hard that whisky splashed across Jack’s calf, the dark stain spreading along the expensive fabric. That it wasn’t until the next morning, when he picked his pants up from where he’d dropped them the night before, that Jack even noticed the heavy stain marring his favorite suit.

  Sadie didn’t know that the only thing Jack paid attention to after arriving in Colorado was her.

  4

  Sadie was awake, jarred from her late afternoon nap by the air conditioner in her hotel room humming to life. Running her fingers through her matted hair, she swung her feet to the floor, shivering as they came into contact with the humid chill of the tiles. She hadn’t pulled the drapes completely closed before collapsing into bed, so the darkness of the sky was visible past the warm glow of her patio light. She twisted to catch the time on the bedside clock and was surprised to see it was only seven. That was one of the things she couldn’t get used to about the Caribbean. Coming from the east coast she associated warm weather with the long days of summer. But on the island, winter nights began almost as early as they did at home, even if the warm air never cooled.

  As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, Sadie’s phone rang.

  “You arrive ok?” The cheerful voice of her assistant Lizzie greeted her.

  “Yes, no problems. Peter was incredibly helpful. As always.” Sadie paced to where Peter had set her suitcase on the luggage rack and began rummaging through her clothes. “Just have a few things to take care of before some of the guests arrive tomorrow evening.”

  “I tracked the boxes. They’ve all made it through customs. The details are in your email.”

  “Perfect. I’ll ask Peter to collect them in the morning.”

  “Anything you need from me tonight?”

  “Nope, I’m all set. But thanks for checking.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” Lizzie got quiet for a moment, before continuing, “Sadie?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You sure you’re going to be ok there? On your own?”

  “Yeah, completely. Why?” It was an unnecessary question. She knew why Lizzie was asking. What Lizzie was asking. Lizzie had been there, after all. That night.

  “You know why, Sadie. I just want to make sure you don’t…that you won’t….”

  Sadie cut her off, “Lizzie, I’ll be fine. I promise.”

  “And if you’re not?”

  “And if I’m not?” Sadie involuntarily flexed her fingers around the t-shirt she had pulled from her suitcase. “I know I can count on you to rescue me.” She’d intended it to come out lighthearted. As a joke. But an uncomfortable silence fell between the two friends. Sadie cleared her throat. “And I have Peter here. And Grace. I’ll be fine, Lizzie. Promise. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Sadie could almost hear Lizzie’s lips curl up in a smile. It was what they always said. To the client. To each other. No matter how big the problem, there was never anything to worry about. “There never is, Sadie. Not with you. And….”

  “And?”

  “And if there is, I know I’ll be the first one you ring.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’ll be at your beck and call, boss.”

  “Thanks, Lizzie. You’re the best.”

  Sadie hung up and began rummaging around in the fridge under the wet bar. As promised, she found an enormous platter of fruits and cheeses. A collection of crackers and nuts were neatly organized on the granite countertop. All within easy eyesight of a bottle of wine. Cheese, wine, and carbs. All a gal needed to get the week started off right. And, hopefully, calm the nervous flutters that had occupied her stomach for the past several days.

  With a plate of food and glass balanced in one hand, and the bottle of wine tucked under her arm, Sadie slid open the door to her ground-level terrace. After placing her little feast on the patio table, she switched off the light, giving her eyes time to adjust to the moonlit night. The path that separated the buildings from the lawn was lined with flickering lanterns. Their glow was strong enough to guide guests along the smooth stones, but not enough to compete with the main show of the night: the stars.

  In the islands, away from the sprawl of cities, the stars were almost overwhelming in quantity. In D.C., Sadie could see seven – max eight – on any given night, the ambient light from buildings and streets swallowing the rest. But here, there were too many to even begin to count. Millions of brilliant pinpricks puncturing the deep navy sky.

  Sadie could see the reflection of the moon off the ocean just a few hundred feet in front of her. The shadow of a palm tree cutting across her vision as it swayed. The fresh sting of salty air. And the warm breeze that carried it to where she was comfortably tucked into a chaise.

  “It’s a perfect night, isn’t it?”

  That’s what he’d said to her. That last night in Colorado.

  That week had been a success all around. Mr. Donovan had even pulled Sadie aside to give her and her team quick but thorough thanks before disappearing back into the jovial throng of his employees. While she knew everyone at D&A International appreciated their work, members of the executive team rarely stated it so openly. So Sadie had found herself thrown off kilter by his forthright praise. And she hadn’t been paying attention to the man who’d broken free from the crowd to stand so close that his arm brushed hers.

  At his voice, Sadie jumped.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Sadie turned to the side and was forced to tilt her head back, chin almost completely raised, before her eyes met Jack Avery’s. She knew they were hazel. She had looked. She was human, after all.

  At first glance Jack was cleanly, severely handsome. Straight lines, square jaw, strong chin, heavy brow. But, during her surreptitious moments of observation, Sadie had noticed the features that softened him, that made his classic good looks charmingly lethal. The heavy waves of dark hair that he could never quite tame, thick strands often dropping to sweep across his forehead. The dimple that winked from his cheek when his wide lips parted in a genuine smile. And his eyes. Large. Framed with thick lashes. A haphazard concoction of greens and browns, shifting with the light, with his mood. And always watching.

  At that particular second they were watching her as she tried to step back, to put some space between them. To give herself some breathing room. But instead of gaining distance from Jack, Sadie found herself backed up against the rough exterior of the log cabin-style hotel. She felt her head make contact before the rest of her body, the back of her skull bouncing against the wood before she stepped forward again. She squinted her eyes, more embarrassed than anything. But Jack raised one hand, as if to smooth down her hair, check for any lumps.

  “Are you alright?” Jack dropped his hand as Sadie waved it away. But one second later he was using it to cover a little grin that danced across his lips. “I just came over to say thanks. For everything this week.
I swear. Didn’t plan on scaring you or causing physical damage.”

  “I’ll make note of that when I file for workman’s comp.” Jack’s grin vanished, his shoulders tensing. It was Sadie’s turn to grin. “Kidding. Goodness. Besides,” Sadie ran her hands down her dark hair, “you didn’t even draw blood. This doesn’t even begin to rate when it comes to work-related injuries. Grading only begins when we have to call the paramedics.”

  “A hazardous job, then?”

  “Oh, you have no idea. Electrocutions. Maiming. Lacerations. Near-suffocations. The next time a client demands that we dress up in a full-body Abominable Snowman costume, remind me to say no. Full stop.”

  Jack half-laughed, half-choked. “You’re kidding?”

  “I wish. Never again.”

  Jack’s eyes wandered down her, running from head to toes and back up again. “I think you’d make a terrible Abominable Snowman. For the record.”

  “Are you impugning my dress up skills, Mr. Avery? Because, I can assure you, I have talents that would blow you away.” This time there was no mistaking Jack’s laugh, a warm chuckle that rumbled through his torso and lit something bright in his eyes.

  “Ms. Carter, I have no doubt that your talents, dress up or otherwise, are of the highest caliber.” A pang of heat hit Sadie in the chest as his lips formed a more intimate smile. “I was merely observing that you are too tiny to be convincing as a mountain-dwelling snow beast. That, and you smell entirely too good.”

  Sadie’s eyebrow lifted as Jack held her gaze. She hoped he interpreted it as disdain. Even haughtiness. And that it would distract him from the way her pulse increased as he watched her. As he bent his head as if to confirm just how good she smelled.

  “You’re welcome.” Sadie was impressed that her voice sounded normal, no indication of how keyed-up she felt.

  Jack, his body still canted towards her, raised a mirroring eyebrow.

  “You said you came over to tell me thanks for this week. So, you’re welcome.”

  “I haven’t said it yet. It’s a bit presumptuous to accept thanks that haven’t actually been given, don’t you think?”

  “Any more than telling a woman you barely know how good she smells and what a bad yeti she’d make?”

  Jack barked out a loud laugh, his hair catching the soft glow of the fire as it fell back. “Touché, Ms. Carter. But seeing as it’s too late to begin this conversation all over again, why don’t we just skip ahead to the good bit.”

  “The good bit? Can there be a good bit after near-concussions and insults?”

  “Surely that’s the best time for the good bits. Especially when it involves you joining me for a drink.”

  Sadie felt the flush that had flared in her chest shoot to her face while her arms tingled with nerves. She couldn’t have a drink with him. He was her client. Not just a client, but a founding principal of the company. Jack Avery. Co-Founder and Executive Vice President of D&A International. Brilliant. Successful. Charming. Handsome. Which made her want to join him all the more. Sadie was attracted to his brilliance. She understood his drive, hoped to emulate his success in her own field. And Sadie certainly wasn’t immune to his charm. It was so tempting to say yes. Which was all the more reason why she needed to say no.

  “Thank you, that’s a very nice offer. But I’m afraid I can’t.”

  Jack bent down slightly, bringing his eyes closer to hers. “Sadie Carter, how many events have you done for us?”

  “Twenty-four. Twenty-five if you count this one.”

  “And how many times have you been able to sit down at the end of one and relax over a good drink?”

  “Every one. Just as soon as I get home.” Or as soon as she got to the airport, but Jack didn’t need to know that.

  But he wouldn’t give up. “I haven’t kept count of the number of times I’ve seen you.” Jack rested one long finger on Sadie’s arm briefly before withdrawing. “More times than I can recall. And not once have I seen you sit down. You are always moving, always going.”

  “It is my job, Jack. Your company doesn’t pay me to sit around and watch things happen. It pays me to make sure that everything happens flawlessly. It pays me,” she pointed at herself, “to keep you,” she redirected her finger at him, “happy.” And the second the word was out of her mouth she regretted it. Because she saw Jack’s face light in triumph.

  “Thank you for arguing my point so succinctly. Because that is what you will be doing now. When you get a drink with me,” Jack rested one hand across the broad plane of his chest. “Keeping me – the client – happy.”

  * * *

  She could have said no. If she’d really wanted to, Sadie could have said no and Jack would have backed off, no question. He wasn’t an asshole. Her entire team knew who they were, the entitled jackasses who thought they could ask for a little something extra, who thought they deserved a little something more. But Jack wasn’t one of them. If Sadie had really not wanted to spend another minute with him, he would have accepted her refusal and walked away, head high.

  But Sadie hadn’t said no. Because the entire time they stood inches apart, talking, Sadie wanted to stay. She was thrilled with how the week had gone, how well her team had done, how pleased both Mr. Donovan and Mr. Avery were with their efforts. She wanted a moment to celebrate, to revel in it. She wanted to sit down for once and give her feet, currently covered in fashionably warm but tragically uncomfortable boots, a much needed rest. So, she agreed.

  “Ok, Mr. Avery. I’ll concede to you, this once.” But before Jack was able to gloat, Sadie continued, “On two conditions. First, we agree that this is a drink – one drink – that I am accepting from you as a token of thanks. Not,” Sadie looked at him sternly, “as a requirement for keeping you, the client, happy. Understood?”

  Jack sketched a tiny bow, which came off as oddly charming despite the small space he had to work with. “Perfectly understood.” He turned and headed towards the glass-paneled door that led to the bar inside. Over his shoulder he asked, “The second condition?”

  “We stay here.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes. As you said, it is a perfect night. Why waste it inside when we can just as easily enjoy it here?” Sadie shifted her gaze past Jack to the patio behind him. It was autumn in the Rockies; the night air was crisp and laced with the bite of cold. But centered on the patio was the hotel’s generous fire pit, the flames high within the stone walls, soft light and warm air spreading out to reach them. The hotel had wool blankets scattered across the furniture. Café lights hung above their heads. They would be warm, they would be well lit, and, most importantly, they wouldn’t be forced to press themselves into the cozy and increasingly crowded bar inside. They could stay politely distant, professionally cordial.

  “I suppose I should argue, since I’m the one buying the drinks. But,” Jack saw her start to protest, “since it isn’t an unreasonable stipulation, I agree. Though, if I lose any extremities to frostbite you are going to have to be dealing with my workman’s comp suit.”

  Sadie smiled, small but genuine. “I’ll take my chances.”

  She picked a pair of chairs close to the fire and flagged down a server while Jack snagged a nearby blanket.

  “Ms. Carter, what can I get you this evening?”

  “Hi, Cody,” Sadie greeted the young man before directing him to Jack. “For you, Jack?”

  “Whisky, neat.”

  “Bourbon on the rocks for me, please, Cody. Thanks very much.”

  Cody disappeared back into the bar, and Sadie turned to find Jack looking at her with a surprised expression.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just, not what I expected.”

  “What? That I know his name? That’s Cody. He’s been here all week. Has worked long hours for us every night. The least I can do is know his name.”

  Jack shook his head, that perennial half-smile fixed to his lips. “No, not that. The bourbon. I would have guessed red wine.”

/>   “You would have guessed correctly. I love red wine. Cab especially. The heavier, leggier the better. But I also love bourbon. And beer. I enjoy a wide variety of things, Jack.”

  “Just goes to show, then.”

  “Show…?”

  “I should be careful what assumptions I make about you.”

  “That, Jack, is the first thing you’ve said tonight that I agree with, one-hundred percent. That, and that I make an awful yeti.”

  That’s when Jack did it. He smiled. Fully, brightly. And straight at her. Dimple on display. Smooth lips spread across even teeth. His eyes crinkled in the corners, the green hidden in the depths sparking in the glow of the fire. And at that moment, as her breath caught and her lips curved into a smile to match his, Sadie knew one thing for certain: she was in trouble.

  * * *

  They talked. At first it was just about their week in Colorado. The presentations he’d given. The way she had persuaded the hotel to make fifty-dozen holiday cookies for a Christmas party in September. Then they compared notes about past D&A events and Sadie was surprised at just how many Jack had attended. New York three months before. Chicago the year before that. San Francisco, Kapalua, Miami, and London before those.

  “Should I start to worry?” Jack asked her.

  “Worry?”

  “That I’m so forgettable? How many cities have we been in together? In the same hotel, in the very same room? I try not to let my ego run away with me but, damn, this blow might be more than I can take.”

  “First of all, you say ‘room’ as if you’re talking about a small space, like I ignored you from across a dining room table. We are talking enormous ballrooms, Jack. Tens of thousands of square feet. My mother could be on the other side of those rooms and I wouldn’t notice her.”