The Derby Girl

by Tamara Morgan

  He’d called. Texted. Begged. Even sent her a formal invitation—but Gretchen didn’t answer a single one.

  This was what he’d become. A man who’d spent almost his entire life doing things on his own, alone and lonely and doing damn fine at it. Now he couldn’t even eat mediocre chicken without Gretchen laughing at him from the other side of the table.

  “Of course you look good in a tuxedo on top of everything else. Figures.”

  Jared turned, doing nothing to hide his delight. “Gretchen. You’re here.”

  Looking grumpy. And gorgeous.

  He didn’t know what he’d been expecting from her, but it definitely wasn’t a sparkling blue thing that clung to every part of her body like it was holding on for dear life. Cut modestly at the top, it was nevertheless a feat of fashion engineering, what with the tiny straps meeting over her shoulders and a dangerous plunge along her back. He craned his head and peeked, unable to help himself. Yep. That opening went all the way down to the deepest reaches of her lower back before finally meeting fabric that flared over her delectable ass.

  “Subtle.”

  “I like your hair?” he joked.

  Her hand lifted to the simple updo offset by a pair of spangled silver earrings. “I told you that only worked once.” Then, smiling shyly, “But thank you.”

  For the first time since they’d met, he felt an awkwardness descend between them, a tangible thing of sharp corners and dangerous turns. “I didn’t think you were going to come.”

  “Me either.”

  “You’re missing roller derby.” Their conversation felt heavy, stilted—but at least it was a conversation. He preferred yelling over silence, terse banalities over nothing at all.

  But when she turned to face him, he only got a tight smile and narrowed eyes.

  “What?” he asked, panic rising in his chest.

  “Your tie is crooked.” Reaching up, she tugged at the knot around his neck—though a noose might have been a more accurate description. Under her deft fingers, he felt some of the pinching loosen, some of the air return to his lungs. And when she laid a hand flat on his chest, the impression of it burned there long after she drew away.

  “There. That’s better.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. Afraid this might be his only chance to let her know how much he appreciated her coming out tonight, he skipped the kiss and went straight for her ear.

  “I know you deserve better than some work function and my father’s friends, but I don’t think I could have done this without you. I can’t tell you what it means that you came.” He tightened his hold. “No. That’s not true. I can tell you. It means everything.”

  Her sharp intake of breath was all the confirmation he needed, and he indulged in a moment of savoring the smell of her, of the gentle slope of her neck under his lips.

  Gretchen felt herself growing weak-kneed and could have cursed Gran for manipulating her into coming out tonight. She’d meant to be strong. Resistant. Equipped with a killer dress and bloodthirsty shoes.

  Instead, she was pretty sure she’d roll over and play dead if only Jared said the word. God, he looked amazing in a tuxedo. He’d been poured in, shaken and stirred.

  With a deep, bracing, highly necessary breath, she pushed him gently back. “One step at a time, Jared. Let’s make it through this thing first. Then we’ll talk about what comes next.”

  She took his arm and indicated the door. Gretchen had known, coming in, that she would feel out of place tonight, that her exposed arms opened her up to much more scrutiny than she cared to admit. She also knew that no matter how unpleasant it might be to see herself reflected in the elder Dr. Fine’s eyes, she needed to witness Jared in this element—even if only to reinforce her own resolve in letting him go.

  Odd how it was so much easier to forgive him for his past than for his future. Infidelity she could work with. Arrogance she could dispel. But Jared’s potential as a human being? It scared the crap out of her.

  The door opened before they could make their entrance, revealing a highly impatient version of Jared’s father.

  “Come on. There are some people you need to be talking to. Oh, hello.” He stopped, appraising Gretchen. Although his eyes lingered on her arms, he nodded once, almost accepting.

  Of her, she wondered? Or of the inevitability of her appearance at Jared’s side?

  “You’re that woman from the other day.”

  “Her name is Gretchen,” Jared said firmly, and wound a hand tighter around her waist. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn this dress after all. If his hand was going to keep touching her bare skin like that, she wasn’t going to be able to get through the night without liquefying in his arms. “And she’s not just my friend.”

  Her heart stuttered.

  “Well, I’m glad you could be here,” the elder Dr. Fine said. He even extended a hand. “Call me Richard, please.”

  As an alarmed Gretchen took his fingers and limply shook, Jared leaned in. “He doesn’t say that to just anyone. Half this room still has to call him doctor.”

  That was an impressive feat in and of itself. The ballroom—a somewhat nondescript banquet hall of a room found in most country clubs in the upscale part of the city—was dressed up in linen and low candlelight. The people were similarly dressed up. She’d feared, heading over here, that her dress would be a bit much—a little girl playing at make-believe—but she hadn’t underestimated her audience. These were people who lived and breathed black tie, bathed in silk.

  Jared was at home here. She’d seen pictures of him in magazines, of course, but no two dimensional page could do this man justice. No camera could capture his magnetism, no flash of light could depict the spark that shone in his eyes when he looked at her. And she wouldn’t even talk about the way his shoulders had been cram-packed into his jacket. It was indecent, really. She wanted to have sex with those shoulders alone, logistics of such a feat be damned.

  “Okay. What do you want me to do?” She took a bracing breath.

  “Relax. Have fun. Drink some champagne.” He tucked her hand confidently into his arm. “And if you have some extra time, you could always try to get a read on these people. I can’t tell if they’re being sincere or just flattering me.”

  “Jared.” She spoke sternly. “It’s not that hard.”

  “For you, maybe.” He sounded little-boy-lost again. “What would you do if your whole life, people told you how great you were, how intelligent and successful? And then one day you found out that it was commandeered at the hands of your father? How many of those people were telling me the truth all those years? How many were simply trying to get on his good side?”

  He made everything so much harder than it needed to be. “Don’t you know that their opinions don’t really matter? What matters here is what you want. God knows no one has ever extolled my virtues to my face, but I still know I’m worth something.”

  His eyes pierced hers. “Do you?”

  “Dr. Fine!” A handsome couple—he willowy and austere, she the exact opposite, though pretty in a youngish, fleshy sort of way—approached them from the right. Introductions were made, and although the couple took a second look at Gretchen, as well as a third and a fourth, they were too well-bred to show any real alarm.

  The man, Charles, spoke first. “I’ve been told to woo you come hell or high water, but I’ve never been very good at that. Just ask Kayla.” He dismissed his wife with a fond smile. “What I would like to do, if you don’t mind, is pick your brains about this water resource issue I can’t seem to get around at our Ethiopia station. You faced something similar in Kenya, I believe.”

  Charles detached himself from his wife’s arm and began chatting to Jared about irrigation pumps and a friend of his who had served on a board for the president. Like, the actual president
.

  “Are you from the area?” Kayla asked, turning to her with a distantly polite smile. Gretchen wondered if this sort of thing happened often—the men detaching for political conversation, the spouses and girlfriends relegated to the chitchat sidelines.

  “Philadelphia?” Gretchen asked. “No. I live in one of the boroughs up north a ways.”

  “Oh, you mean the one where Dr. Fine has the plastic surgery office? I’ve passed through there a few times on my way to visit family. Lovely area. The covered bridges are a favorite of mine.”

  “They’re really nice in the fall,” Gretchen agreed. “The changing of the leaves is one of my favorite sights.”

  “You’ll really love the cherry blossoms in Washington in the spring then,” Kayla said. As if realizing the implications of that statement, the woman colored and rushed ahead, “You know...if you guys...if Dr. Fine...”

  Gretchen just smiled and nodded, her stomach growing tight. Kayla was nice. Charles was too. And Jared kept looking over to make sure she was doing okay. This would be much easier if she could take these people into dislike, but they seemed genuine, sincere.

  In fact, as they worked their way through several such couples, Gretchen realized they were practically drowning in a sea of sincerity. Her head spun with the diamond rings adorning fingers and necks, with the college pedigrees rattled off during introductions, with the way everyone offered Jared their full support without question. And she hadn’t even touched the champagne.

  She only lost sight of him once, when an insistent hand on her elbow turned out to be that of Jared’s father, grim and determined. A jolt of nervous alarm worked through her as she imagined being tossed out the back like a bag of trash, but he deposited her near a sweet-looking old man who carried a gold-tipped cane and had an honest-to-goodness cravat tied around his neck.

  See? Now why couldn’t Gran take up with someone like that?

  “Gretchen, I’d like you to meet Dr. Javier Ortega. Dr. Ortega is a dear friend of mine and a great mentor to Jared. Javier, this is the young lady I was telling you about.” Without elaborating on whether or not that was a good thing, he stalked elegantly away.

  The name was familiar but the man was not. Shifting uncomfortably, Gretchen was about to make her apologies and hightail it out of there when he smiled. It was weathered, warm, friendly. It reminded her a bit of Jared’s smile. His sincere one—the one that went so much deeper than skin.

  “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you young people are taking up body art these days,” he said, admiring hers. “Do you know that our Western world was one of the last to adopt body modification rituals? Almost every culture has seen fit through the centuries to adorn the bodies of warriors and attractive young ladies, but we continue to hold off. Do you know why that is?”

  She had absolutely no idea and said so.

  He shook his head. “Me either. I’ve always suspected it has something to do with our fixation on external purity, as though that somehow guarantees the heart is equally untainted. Ah, well. You didn’t come all the way over here to be ogled by an old man. Shall we get you a drink?”

  Gretchen liked this man—she liked him a lot. He found them a quiet corner away from the quartet of string musicians and simply talked to her. Not once did he mention Washington, DC or the cherry blossoms or how Jared single-handedly changed the world. Not once did he make her feel anything but happy to be the recipient of his conversation and focus.

  And then he ruined it.

  “It looks like the waiters are starting to bring out the plates,” Gretchen said by way of apology. “Can I take you to your seat?”

  He patted her hand. “Don’t let the cane fool you. It’s pure affectation. Thank you for taking the time to chat to an old man who hates these things. You’d think after twenty years of running the damn organization, I’d be used to making small talk and admiring ladies’ gowns.”

  That was when she realized—this was no ordinary kindly old man. He was the Person of the Year guy.

  “And we’ll have to thank Richard for making the introductions. I know he was hoping I’d regale you with tales of Jared’s contributions to the organization, but I tend to save my flattery for the gentler sex. I enjoy an appreciative audience, you see.” His smile invited her to share in it, but she only got as far as a slight wobble of the lips. “I’ll only say that I wouldn’t feel comfortable stepping down for anyone else. Jared is a good doctor and an even better man.”

  The room began to spin.

  Dr. Ortega, oblivious, patted her arm. “But then, you already know that, don’t you?”

  * * *

  “Well? What do you think?” Jared asked as the waiters began bringing out dinner service, indicating everyone was to take their seats. One look at him was all it took to convince Gretchen that he was nervous, flustered. He honestly had no idea that every single one of the people here—men and women alike—would gladly lie down and have his babies, if only he were to ask.

  “I think I need air.”

  “Air is good,” he agreed. “No one will miss us while they’re eating.”

  They escaped through the swinging doors leading toward the lower level kitchens, passing a few waiters with their heads down over enormous trays of food. Gretchen’s stomach rumbled, but they moved so quickly she only had enough time to think about snatching a roll from one of the trays. Not nearly enough time to execute such a task.

  It turned out to be a good thing. The second they hit the outside air, Jared’s mouth was covering hers, and he pressed her against the wall so fiercely she felt the rasp of brick against her bare back.

  Brick burn seemed a small price to pay for the force of that kiss, for the way his entire body covered hers, holding her in place until fire charred in her veins and the discreet cough of a waiter ending his smoke break interrupted them.

  Jared just grinned. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t wait. That dress is killing me.”

  Clothes were killing him? She was being suffocated by his magnificence. Try that for a change.

  Now that she had her breath—and her senses—back, she placed a hand on Jared’s chest to keep him at bay. “No. Stop. When I said air, I meant air. What you have in mind is the opposite.”

  “I’m drunk,” Jared explained.

  “Oh, geez.” Gretchen sighed. Tonight, of all nights? “Well, you better go inside and eat something. I don’t think they’ll offer you the job if you start stumbling around the ballroom.”

  His hand gripped the back of her neck, pulling her close. “I don’t mean I’ve over-imbibed. I mean I’m intoxicated.”

  “Drunk on power?” That made more sense.

  “No, Gretchen. On you.”

  His lips proved it. For a full five minutes, she understood what Jared meant when he said the unimportant things fell by the wayside when they were together. Careers, dinners, fathers, grandmothers, buried treasure...all of it seemed nothing more than a blur in the periphery, the setting of a scene that had been waiting all this time for them to come along.

  His hands slipped inside the back of her dress, skin on skin and wholly inappropriate to the time and place. She clutched his lapels like she was drowning in him, as if she had to struggle to stay afloat. As he groaned and gripped her even harder, pressing their bodies flush and sparking desire between them, she soon realized that was exactly what was about to happen.

  She was going to drown.

  “Jared,” she said, her voice all but lost as she regained her senses. “Jared, stop.”

  He pulled his head away, breathing heavily, eyes dark. “What’s wrong? I promise this isn’t part of whatever imaginary outdoor sex fetish you think I have. I just can’t seem to control myself around you.”

  “You’re going to have to try,” she said firmly. “At least for the duration of the evening. Those peopl
e in there adore you. They’re all here to support you in your career. You can’t walk out.”

  He hung his head playfully. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I mean it.” She gripped his arm. His tuxedo, once so perfect, now bore every sign of having been ravaged in an alleyway. She focused on that, on the disheveled tie, on the imperfect man, as she found the courage to form the words. “Whatever you decide to do, you owe it to them to go in there and finish the party. Not slip out the back with your bit of rough.”

  He grabbed her hands and squeezed them, not loosening his grip until she looked up and met his gaze. So much for keeping her distance.

  “So what do I decide?”

  She blinked at him a few times. “That seems to be the question on everyone’s mind.” Including hers. “Do you take the job of a lifetime or not?”

  “It would mean I have to move,” he said gently.

  “And quit New Leaf.”

  “And probably give up my tent.”

  She offered a soft smile. “I could take Max if you need someone to adopt him.”

  He dropped her hands. “So you think I should take it.”

  “I think...” What did she think? Lots of things, actually, none of which outweighed the fact that Make the World Smile was where he belonged. “I think you should do what you need to.”

  “Come on. Tell me.” He made a motion with his hand, as if beckoning her. “Gretchen, I’m counting on you here. No one cuts through to the heart of things better than you. Knowing what you do about me—about my past, my pride—is this really something I should do? Do I owe it to the organization to keep trying? Or am I better off in Pleasant Park?”

  The rest of that statement, the implication, lingered there. Am I better off with you?

  She swallowed heavily. “You want me to tell you whether or not you should accept this position.”

  “You know me. Sometimes I think you know me better than myself.”

  He looked so proud. So happy.

  This couldn’t seriously be happening. Jared was putting this decision—this huge, monumental, life-changing decision—in her hands. He was literally asking her to relieve him of the burden of his own conscience.