“Boring how?”
“Loves to name-drop and brag about all the important events he’s attended. For a skinny man, he’s fairly obsessed with menus—who served which caviar, that the shrimp was overdone, that the Kobe beef wasn’t, and that the pastry chef was subpar.”
Reed nodded. It was annoying, but nothing compared to what Quentin had done to Katrina.
“By the way—” Reed took the opportunity “—if you ever need a good bakery, I know a great one in Brooklyn.”
“I don’t entertain much in Brooklyn.”
“They do deliver.” Reed signaled a passing waiter and chose a glass of red wine. “If I could get you a discount, would you be willing to try someone new?”
She arched a sculpted brow. “Are you serious?”
“I am. I own a small percentage of one that would like to break into the upscale catering market.”
Elizabeth gave a small shrug. “Send me the information. We can talk.”
“I’ll have them send you some samples. Thanks.”
“No problem.” She nodded across the room. “I see Katrina’s wearing Asper Emily tonight.”
Reed watched Katrina laugh with two tuxedo-clad guests. He tried not to let jealousy creep in. “Is she securing donations?”
“One never knows who will decide to participate financially.” Elizabeth paused. “You know, Katrina has a fantastic future ahead of her with Liberty.” She took a sip of her champagne. “Assuming she stays in New York City.”
Confused, Reed asked, “What makes you think she won’t?”
Elizabeth’s smile was sly. “You.”
Reed laughed at that.
“I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
“Don’t worry about it. She hates Colorado a whole lot more than she likes me.”
“She must really hate Colorado then.” Elizabeth wound her arm through his once more. “Walk me over to the piano. I need to speak with Samuel Wilcox, and I don’t want Quentin to snag me along the way.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Several people greeted Elizabeth from a distance as they walked, but none approached her directly. Reed could see Foster out of the corner of his eye, tracking their progress across the ballroom.
“Thank you,” said Elizabeth as Reed handed her off to Samuel Wilcox.
Reed didn’t wait for an introduction, but quickly withdrew and made his way to where Foster stood alone near one of the bars. He ditched the wineglass on the way, wanting both hands free.
“Foster.” He nodded, coming to a halt.
The man’s dirt-brown eyes narrowed. “Have we met?”
Reed scoffed out a laugh. “Right.” If that’s the way the guy wanted to play it, fine by him.
Reed put his back to the polished bar and set his tone low, though nobody was particularly close by. “My message is short. I know you propositioned Katrina. I know about the shoes. And I know where you live—”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Foster sputtered. But his face had flushed ruddy.
“I can also easily access your social calendar.” Reed straightened, noting the bead of sweat that had formed on Foster’s brow. “If you hurt Katrina, if you threaten Katrina, if you lift one finger to harm her career, I will hunt you down and wipe you off the face of this planet.”
Foster pulled himself taller, his voice going shrill. “Even if I did know what you were talking about, I do not respond to threats.”
“Yeah? Well, you might want to make an exception in this case.”
“Uncivilized thug,” Foster spat.
“When it comes to Katrina, absolutely. You’d be smart to remember that, too.” Message delivered, Reed walked away.
Katrina was determined to avoid Quentin. The last thing she wanted was to be forced to rebuff him all over again. He’d been watching her for several minutes now, and he was headed her way. She started for the other side of the ballroom, deciding avoidance was her best strategy.
She couldn’t help but wish Reed was at her side. But last time she’d seen him, he was engaged in what had looked like a serious conversation with Elizabeth. Katrina had to admit, she was rather surprised at how adroit Reed seemed to be at managing the party without much help from her. She’d never had a date give her so much space before.
She saw a chance and entered a conversation with another dancer and two of the guests, hoping it would keep Quentin at bay. Unfortunately, they were just saying good-night, and she was quickly on her own again. And her stop had given Quentin a chance to get closer.
She skirted along the edge of the ballroom toward the back, thinking Reed might have gone to one of the bars for a drink.
She didn’t make it.
“Katrina?” Quentin called to her.
Caught, she heaved a sigh and pasted a polite smile on her face. “Hello, Quentin.”
“You look lovely tonight.” Though he uttered the words, there was a distinct insincerity to his tone.
His smile was there, if a bit fake. And there was a tenseness in his posture, a tightness at the corners of his mouth. Like he had a right to be angry with her. If anything, it ought to be the other way around.
“Thank you,” she responded calmly, letting her smile fade. It was one thing to be cordial if he was trying to keep up appearances, but if he wasn’t even going to make the effort, she certainly saw no reason to pretend.
His gaze moved insolently from her face, to her breasts and down the length of her body. “Putting it out for someone special tonight?”
She ignored the rude question and started to leave. “Excuse me. But I’m on my way to get a drink.”
But as she began to move, he grabbed her by the arm. His grip was tight enough to be painful.
Before she could react, he stepped up close, his voice a growl. “You call him off.”
“What? Let go of me.” Had he lost his mind?
“That pit bull of a junkyard dog—”
Suddenly, Reed appeared. He grabbed a handful of Quentin’s shirtfront and pushed him backward ten full paces, slamming him into the wall.
“Reed,” Katrina gasped.
“Did you think I was bluffing?” Reed demanded in a harsh voice that carried. “Did you?”
Quentin’s mouth moved, but no sounds came out.
Katrina moved swiftly toward them, praying nobody else was paying attention. “Reed, stop.” She could handle this herself, discreetly and quietly. The last thing in the world Liberty Ballet needed was a sordid scene played out in full view of their donors.
But he only pushed Quentin harder against the wall. “I meant every word I said.”
Quentin gasped for breath.
“Let him go,” Katrina begged, glancing around.
Instead, Reed pointed a stiff finger close to Quentin’s nose. “Every word.”
“Security!” somebody called out from behind her.
Katrina groaned in mortification.
Quentin managed a pained but triumphant smile. “Better let me go.”
“It’ll take them at least five minutes to get here,” Reed warned. “I can do a lot of damage in five minutes.”
“You’ll go to jail,” Quentin wheezed.
“Do I look like I care?”
“Reed,” Katrina pleaded, her panic growing.
He glanced her way. “You don’t need to see this.”
“Everybody’s seeing this.”
He turned back to Quentin, his enunciation slow and deliberate. “What’s it going to be?”
The two men glared daggers at each other.
Finally, Quentin glanced away, giving a tight nod of acquiescence.
Reed abruptly let him go, stepping back just as the security guards came into view. Reed backed off farther, straightening his jacket. Then he turned and walked casually toward her, while Katrina stared at him in abject horror.
She felt dozens of pairs of eyes come to rest on her. This story was going to race through the dance world like wild
fire. Katrina would be a laughingstock. Whatever Quentin might have done to try to harm her career, Reed had outdone the effort and then some.
Reed stopped in front of her, and she felt her eyes sting with mortification. She didn’t say a word, but dashed blindly for the exit. Ignoring the curious and pitying stares of the other guests, she made her long and painful way to the foyer.
Once there, she went directly to the elevators.
Reed was right behind her. “Katrina, I’m sorry you had to—”
“You’re sorry?” She gasped for breath, barely finding her voice. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “You think sorry cuts it?”
“He had it coming.”
“It was a party, Reed. A civilized party.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“At a civilized gathering, you can’t just beat people up because they annoy you.”
Reed stepped closer, his voice low but no less menacing. “He tried to hurt you. He did hurt you. He sabotaged your shoe.”
“We’ve been through that. It doesn’t make sense.” She wasn’t going to let the fear in.
“It makes perfect sense. Elizabeth said the board replaced every pair of your shoes.”
“So what?”
“It was a board decision. Foster tampered with the others and—”
“Stop right there. He’s an opportunistic jerk, but that’s it. And I could have handled it myself.”
“You shouldn’t have to handle it.”
“Why? Because you fix things?”
“Because he doesn’t get to do that to you. Nobody does. I confronted him. I warned him. And he ignored me.”
“Did he confess?”
“No. But I looked him in the eyes—”
“And you shook his hand? And you’re such an oracle when it comes to judging people that you felt entitled to try and convict him without a shred of evidence?”
“He did it, Katrina.”
She closed her eyes and counted to five. There was a broader point.
“This isn’t Colorado, Reed.”
He coughed out a laugh. “No kidding.”
“Can you at least take this seriously?”
“I am taking this seriously.”
She poked a finger against his chest. “This isn’t the Wild West.”
Reed didn’t answer, simply set his jaw.
“You threatened to hurt him,” she accused.
“I did not.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
“I heard you.” There was no other explanation.
A beat went past, and then another, before Reed finally spoke. “I didn’t threaten to hurt him. I threatened to kill him.”
Katrina staggered back.
She couldn’t have heard right. Reed had seemed so urbane these past few days, so civilized. He knew how to order a good wine. He was intelligent, well-read. He could make small talk with just about anyone. But it was all a facade.
“So, that’s it?” she croaked through an aching throat, more to herself than to him.
“What’s it?” he asked.
“You. Underneath it all, you’re still just an uncouth Colorado cowboy.”
He didn’t flinch. “I’ll always be an uncouth Colorado cowboy.”
Her stomach cramped in pain. This had all gone so horribly wrong. “I should have listened to you,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “You should have listened to me.”
She felt tears build again, hot and heavy, trapped behind her eyes, making her voice quaver. “You tried to warn me.”
“I never meant to hurt you, Katrina.” His eyes were storm-cloud gray. “The last thing in the world I wanted to do was hurt you.”
“Well, you did.”
“I know.”
“You have to leave.” She was going to break down any second. She fought her anguish with anger. “Leave now. Leave New York City. Go back to those sawdust-covered honky-tonks where guys like you can make a point with your fists.”
“I’ll take you home.” He reached out his hand.
“No.” She determinedly shook her head, backing away. “I’m not going home. I’m going back to the party.”
He jerked up his chin. “Oh, no, you aren’t.”
But she had no choice. “I can face them now, or I can face them tomorrow. And I want to get this over with.”
“I meant you can’t go back to Foster. He’s still inside.”
“I can deal with him.”
“No, you can’t.”
Katrina felt a red haze form inside her brain. “This is my problem, Reed. It’s my life. You need to leave now.”
There was no way he was going to agree. She could see his intense frustration. She could see him considering options. She was suddenly frightened that he might haul her bodily from the hotel for her own good.
She took another step back, quickly turning away, pacing as fast as she could toward the ballroom.
Reed would leave New York City. He’d do it quickly and quietly and without bothering Katrina again. But there was one thing he had to take care of first. And Elizabeth Jeril was the person to help him.
At the Liberty Ballet administration offices, she closed her door and gestured to one of the guest chairs in front of her maple-wood desk. “My receptionist just warned me you were dangerous.”
“Was she at the party?” Reed was sorry his behavior had marred the event. But he wasn’t sorry he’d confronted Foster. He’d done what he had to do.
Elizabeth laughed, rounding her desk. “She heard the story this morning. Everybody in Manhattan heard the story this morning.”
Reed waited for her to sit. “I have a hard time believing it was that interesting.”
She plunked down on the padded burgundy leather chair, definitely seeming more amused than angry. “Most exciting fundraiser I’ve ever attended.”
Reed took his seat. “Sorry about that.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Not to worry.”
Fair enough. He’d forget the party and get straight to the point. “I need a favor, Elizabeth.”
She squared her shoulders and folded her hands on the desktop. “What kind of a favor?”
“I need Quentin Foster out of Katrina’s life forever.”
Elizabeth’s brows knitted in obvious confusion.
“And that means I need him out of Liberty Ballet forever.”
She began shaking her head. “Reed, it’s not going to be possible for me—”
“How much?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
“How much will it take to get rid of Foster?”
Elizabeth blinked.
“I have a proposal for you.” Reed saw no point in pussyfooting around. “I’m prepared to set up a foundation for the benefit of the Liberty Ballet Company. The endowment would provide stable funding to the organization into perpetuity.”
He tightened his grip on the arms of the chair. “My only condition is that Quentin Foster is immediately kicked off the board of directors, banned from ever contributing to Liberty Ballet, and banned from ever attending any of their fundraisers. If I thought I could keep him from buying tickets, I would ask for that, too.”
Elizabeth’s gaze probed Reed’s expression for a long minute. “What did he do?”
“Nothing that’s provable.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Reed didn’t blame her for being confused, even suspicious. He made up his mind to put all his cards on the table. “I tell you this in confidence, and only to protect Katrina. I couldn’t care less about that jackal. Foster wanted to sleep with her, and when she turned him down, he pressured her again. Then the cables appeared and her shoe malfunctioned, and he was pivotal in replacing her other shoes before anyone could look at them. I warned him off at the party Saturday, but I don’t trust him. I can’t trust him. I need him gone.”
Elizabeth came halfway out of her chair. “Are you kiddin
g me?”
“I am not.”
“He used his access to the company as a board member to solicit sex with a dancer?”
“Yes,” Reed answered shortly.
Elizabeth reached for her phone. “I’ll turf him for that alone.”
“That doesn’t solve the money issue.”
She paused with her hand on the receiver. “No, it doesn’t solve the money issue. But I’m not throwing Katrina to the wolves for any amount of money.”
“Put down the phone.”
“But—”
“Elizabeth, I can solve the money issue.”
She looked genuinely sympathetic. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”
“Why do people keep doubting me? I’m not a rocket scientist, but I do manage to clothe and feed myself on a daily basis. I’m aware of what I’m offering.”
“Reed.”
“Ten million dollars.”
Elizabeth’s jaw went lax.
“The Sasha Terrell Endowment Fund will start with ten million dollars in seed money.”
“Who is Sasha Terrell?”
Reed couldn’t help but grin. “That’s your question?”
“That’s my first question.”
He softened his tone. “My mother.”
Elizabeth nodded, then she nodded again, then she blinked rather rapidly. “That’s nice. That’s very nice.”
“Your other questions?” he prompted.
“I can’t think of any.” She laughed unsteadily, covering her lips with her fingers. “Is this real?”
“It’s real.” Reed reached for his cell phone, dialing Danielle.
Elizabeth sat in astonished silence while Danielle’s office put his call straight through.
“Reed?” came Danielle.
“It’s me.”
“Not another bakery?”
“Can you come to New York City?”
“When?”
“Now.”
There was a long silence on Danielle’s end, followed by a worried, “Why?”
“Probably better if I tell you when you get here.”
“No way. I’ll have a coronary en route worrying.”
Reed chuckled. “I’m about to set up a ten-million-dollar endowment fund to the benefit of the Liberty Ballet Company of New York City. I want you to manage it.”
To her credit, Danielle kept her cool, her tone professional. “I generally advise people to target twenty-five percent of their net worth to charitable endeavors.”
A Cowboy in Manhattan Page 16
