There were too many people around to have this conversation. Lewis’s arrival had most of the room starstruck. She could see people all around them sneaking glances.
Grabbing his hand, she moved past the bar and down the back pathway where she spied a water display in the far corner. The splashing water from the falls discouraged most people from standing too close. They would have privacy there.
There was only one other couple lingering by the water’s edge. The pair shot them a look upon arrival, with the woman, not surprisingly, looking a bit incredulously at Susan. Ignoring them, Susan pulled Lewis off the walkway and into the foliage. There was only a small spot of bare ground, but if they stood close together, they wouldn’t trample anything. “What are you doing, Lewis?” she hissed, just loud enough to be heard over the water. “I thought you were a ‘changed man.’ Pretty sure making a beeline for the bar isn’t one of the sobriety rules. And don’t try to tell me you meant to grab a glass of water, because I saw the look on your face.” It was like a mask had dropped over his features. The muscles by his jaw began to twitch.
He wore a different expression now. Eyes lowered, his brow drawn together. “I know. It was stupid. I wasn’t thinking.”
Something had flipped his switch. “People don’t just fall off the wagon without some kind of trigger. What happened?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does matter,” she told him. “I didn’t agree to this little charade only to have you muck it up and embarrass us both.”
Plus, not that she’d say so out loud, his sudden change in demeanor worried her. He was supposed to be this sexy, confident “reformed” playboy. The man she saw a moment ago had looked vulnerable and dare she say, insecure. Insecurity was her albatross. Men with perfect faces and perfect lips didn’t experience self-doubt.
“You don’t have to worry,” Lewis told her. “It was a momentary blip. Nothing more.”
“I believe you.” After all, he’d stopped himself before even getting to the bar. “Still, I’d feel better if I knew what set the blip off.”
“Silly really,” he said, looking downward. “I’ve faced down some of the world’s toughest players with thousands of people watching without flinching, but put me in a room full of tuxedo-wearing strangers and I’m a bundle of nerves.” Susan’s breath caught as he moved his hand toward her shoulder, only to fiddle with a frond hanging behind her. “I’m sure that sounds ludicrous to someone like you.”
“What do you mean someone like me?” The branch he was playing with was brushing against her curls, causing little ripples of awareness.
“This is your world. Sophisticated. Highbrow. You belong in it.”
Hardly, but this wasn’t the time to argue. At least about that. “Excuse me, Mr. Celebrity Millionaire. This is your world too.”
“You know,” he said, “I tell myself that very thing all the time. That I belong.”
“But?” She could hear the doubt in his voice.
“But then I look at these people and I can hear them thinking What is he doing here? It’s like they know where I came from.”
“So what if they do?” she asked. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Heck, half of this room is probably wondering how they can wrangle an introduction. More than half, likely.”
“For now.”
Susan frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“You said it yourself. I’m a celebrity. The more distance between me and my playing days, however, the less it’ll matter. Until eventually I’ll be just some bloke who was once a somebody and they’ll wonder...” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
“Tell me. Please.” If whatever was on his mind was distressing enough that he would consider drinking, she wanted to help.
He answered so softly, she almost didn’t hear. “And they’ll wonder why they ever wanted me around in the first place. Silly, huh?”
A piece of her heart broke for him. “No,” she told him. Illogical perhaps, but far from silly. He wasn’t talking about reality; he was talking about a feeling that dwelled deep down inside a person. A feeling logic couldn’t always touch.
“The Collier men are all very tall,” she told him. “Very tall, very handsome and very charismatic, like my father. My mother is very beautiful. Like stop-traffic beautiful.”
He was looking at her with dark, fathomless eyes. “I’m not following.”
“When I was seven or eight—right before my mother took off—my parents threw a party. I wore this fancy party dress and my father told me how pretty I looked. I asked if I was as pretty as Mommy. And when he replied, Absolutely, my mother replied, Don’t lie to the girl, Preston. That was the moment I knew that I wasn’t like the rest of them. No matter how hard I tried, I would always be the odd one out.”
Now it was she who felt judged as Lewis’s gaze bore down on her. She’d meant the example as a sign of solidarity. Instead, she’d revealed that she was the Ugly Duckling of her family. He must think her daft. Why did she share anything?
His deep brown eyes moved closer. “Thank you. Knowing you understand means a lot.” He ran the back of his hand down her cheek. “More than you could know.”
A shiver worked its way through Susan’s body. Odd, since she’d suddenly grown very warm. Between the greenhouse temperature and the warmth emanating from Lewis’s body, the air around her had grown thick. It was making her light-headed.
“Everything all right?” Lewis asked.
“Can we sit down somewhere?”
“Of course. Come with me.” He tucked a curl behind her ear.
Since the other couple had departed—escaping the awkwardness of standing near a couple whispering in the bushes no doubt—Susan assumed they would head back to the walkway. Instead, Lewis took her hand and together they picked their way toward the waterfall.
“You were looking a little pink,” he said, as he guided her to a seat on a nearby rock. The air was noticeably cooler by the water.
“We’re going to get in trouble for being off the walkway.”
“We won’t stay long. Besides, the gardeners or whatever walk through here, don’t they? That’s why there are paths.”
Susan shook her head. “You’re funny. One minute you’re telling me you worry about fitting in and the next you’re flouting the rules. One would think you’re self-sabotaging.”
“Psychoanalyzing again, are we?”
“I told you, psychology’s my thing.” Fat lot of good it ever did her though. Being able to psychoanalyze everyone but herself.
“Bit of an odd hobby, isn’t it?” Lewis asked.
“What can I say? I’m rubbish at arts and crafts. I got into it when I was a teenager. My attempt to understand my mother better.”
He touched her knee, his hand bringing a steadying warmth. “Did you? Understand her better?”
“I learned a bunch of terms, all of which boiled down to her being a selfish piece of work who didn’t want to share the spotlight with a child. They want so much attention, you know.”
She tossed aside the last part with an overdramatic voice, but the sting never really left. When she was younger she blamed her looks, thinking if she was taller or thinner or elegant like the Collier boys, then her mother might have wanted her around. As she grew older, however, she realized her mother wouldn’t have wanted the competition. The sad truth was her mother just plain didn’t want her.
“At least you knew how she felt,” Lewis said. “My mum cried holy hell when they took me away, but not so much that she couldn’t get her act together.”
“Just like Belinda,” she said. “Guess that makes us two odd peas in a pod.”
“Guess so,” Lewis replied with a smile.
She slipped her hand over his, and their fingers entwined. With the connection came a strange, full kind of feeling. Kinsh
ip, Susan realized. For the first time she felt understood. It was a heady, seductive feeling.
Ironic that she would set out to comfort him and end up being the one comforted.
“I’m not the only one who’s an enigma,” he continued.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for one thing, I keep looking for this unlikable shrew part of you, and I can’t see it. I mean, you’ve got sharp edges, but who hasn’t, right?”
He couldn’t have said a nicer thing if he tried. “Thank you.”
“Just calling it like I see it. And what I see looks pretty nice. Very nice, in fact.” His smile sobered as his gaze dropped to her lips. Susan’s pulse quickened, remembering the last time he’d looked at her mouth.
Instead of leaning in like she thought he would, however, Lewis suddenly released her hand and rose to his feet.
“We should get back on the path before we get in trouble,” he said. “Won’t do either of our reputations any good if we get tossed out on our ears. I can see the headline now. Stay Off the Grass, Lewis!”
“I’m sure they’d come up with something punnier than that.” Although an example escaped her. She was too busy hiding her disappointment behind smoothing her dress. Her embarrassment too, for thinking he’d been about to kiss her. Talk about foolish. There were no cameras, no giant screen. Why would he want to kiss her if there was nothing to gain?
They snuck out of the plants the way they’d come, emerging to the backs of several other partygoers who were standing on the path.
“And here we thought we were being so sneaky. I bet half the party saw us.” She looked over at Lewis who was smoothing the front of his jacket. He looked as crisp and elegant as before.
“If they did, no one would say anything,” he said. “My guess? They didn’t care.”
“Or they were too polite to make a scene with photographers about.” She and Lewis might have joked about negative headlines, but in reality, the sponsors of the event wouldn’t want the bad press.
“Either way, we lucked out then, didn’t we? Come on, I’ll buy you a glass of champagne before we mingle. I don’t suppose you know anyone here?”
Other than one or two faces she recognized from Collier’s functions, not really. Since attending solo wasn’t much fun, she only went to charity events when Linus needed an emergency date, which wasn’t often. She didn’t want to tell him that though, because it would reveal how pathetic her social life was. This faux romance was the most social activity she’d had in who knows how long.
“Excuse me, Mr. Matolo?”
They’d managed to go no more than a handful of steps before they were stopped by a pair of official-looking gentlemen. The younger of the two reminded Susan of a thinner, nerdier version of the Duke of Sussex with red hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. The other resembled an owl. Rotund with tortoiseshell glasses and an extremely receding hairline.
It was the younger one who addressed them. “I’m Christopher Redmayne, from the Sports Trust for Children and this is Graham Montclark.”
She felt Lewis’s body stiffen from six inches away. “As in Montclark Communications?” he asked. Montclark was Britain’s largest private media corporation. “I believe I’ve read your name atop a scoreboard or two.”
The balding man didn’t return Lewis’s smile. “I’m sure you have. The company sponsors several sporting venues.”
“The two of us have been waiting for you to step away from the water display,” Redmayne said.
So much for escaping comment. “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “I—”
“Susan was feeling a bit light-headed. I thought the air might be cooler by the water.” Lewis clasped her hand and squeezed. “Didn’t want her keeling over or anything. I hope that wasn’t a problem?”
“No, of course not,” Redmayne replied. If it was a problem, Lewis’s explanation coupled with the fear of a guest fainting kept him from saying so. “Are you feeling better, Ms...?”
“Collier, and yes. Thank you. Lewis knew exactly what I needed. In fact, he was just about to get me something cold to drink.”
“Good. Good,” Redmayne replied. “A cold drink is always a good idea.”
Interestingly though, the two men didn’t make a move to step aside or leave. They remained planted in the middle of the path, apparently intent on having a conversation.
“Collier,” Montclark said. “Any relation to Thomas?”
“My brother.”
The businessman nodded. “Good man. Miraculous story, that business with his wife.”
“Yes. The whole family was shocked when she returned. In a good way of course. We like to think of it as a true Christmas miracle.”
“Graham is one of our advisors. I was telling him how generous you’ve been to our organization,” Redmayne said. “Your support is very appreciated. It’s always a surprise, to see who is willing to step up and help.”
“You do good work,” Lewis replied. “Why wouldn’t I support you?”
“That’s nice to hear.” At that moment, a server walked by carrying a tray of champagne. Holding up a hand, Redmayne stopped the man from passing. “Could you get a glass of water for Ms. Collier?” he asked.
“Actually... Champagne will be fine.” This conversation defined the term awkward. If it was going to continue, she would need more than water.
“I’ll take the water, if you don’t mind,” Lewis said. You could tell both of the other men were struggling not to look surprised. “I’m a teetotaler these days.”
Susan smiled at him with pride. The admission couldn’t have been easy for him. Not in this environment where he already felt judged.
Redmayne recovered first, with the grace one expected from an experienced networker. “I should take a page from your book. Every holiday I swear I’m going to cut back on excesses and every year I’m filled with regret because my pants are too snug.” The four of them shared an uncomfortable chuckle.
“Anyway,” Redmayne continued, “I hate to talk business when the two of you are here to enjoy yourselves, but we’re hosting a Christmas event for our young ambassadors on December eleventh. Heath Chilton was supposed to lead a sports clinic but we found out this morning that he’s having a second knee surgery and won’t be able to attend so...”
“You’re wondering if Lewis would be able to step in!” In a voice suiting a loyal girlfriend, Susan finished the sentence for him. Actually she suspected Redmayne wanted to ask if Lewis could use his contacts to get a current player—hence the awkwardness—and she jumped in to get Lewis’s name on the table first. From the look Redmayne shared with Montclark, it was a good thing she had. “I think that’s a terrific idea. Lewis was just saying how he wanted to get more involved with the program. Weren’t you?”
He picked up her train of thought immediately. “Yes, I was, and I’d be honored to step in.”
Redmayne was scrambling for a polite way to escape the hole he was in. “That’s very generous of you, but, um...” He looked at Montclark, who opened his mouth to finish.
Lewis cut them off. “In fact,” he said, “I know what Heath charges for public appearances. If it would help the organization’s bottom line, I would be glad to donate my time free of charge.”
Well done. Susan smiled into her champagne. A light gleamed in Montclark’s eyes. The idea of saving a sizable amount of money clearly appealed to him. “We’re looking to inspire these kids. Can we count on you to show up, ready to perform?”
“Mr. Montclark, I always show up ready to play,” Lewis told him. “You have my word.”
The reassurance didn’t seem to impress the businessman, but the organization had its back against the wall. That they’d approached Lewis for any kind of assistance this close to the event said they were desperate. Susan knew what the two men were thinking. A free-of-charge, former player was better
than no player at all.
The waiter returned with Lewis’s water. “Here’s your water, Mr. Matolo,” he said. Servers probably didn’t usually address the guests by name but the young man’s starstuck expression as well as the excited tremor in his voice explained the break in protocol.
“Thanks, mate. Appreciate it.”
Tucking the tray under his arm, the young man prepared to leave only to pause. “I’ve watched every game you ever played in.”
“Wow,” Lewis replied. “What’d you do? Start watching when you were in diapers?”
Susan watched Montclark taking in the exchange, particularly the waiter’s starstuck face. After a few minutes more of conversation—and a request for a selfie—the young man moved on and Montclark cleared his throat. “Very well,” he said, “since you are willing to make a firm commitment and waive your appearance fee...”
“Anything to help the organization,” Lewis replied.
“We appreciate you stepping up on such short notice. Redmayne will send your agent all the information.” The three men shook on the arrangement.
“Remind me to tip that server extra,” Susan said once Redmayne and Montclark had moved on to the buffet table. “His timing couldn’t have been more perfect if we paid him.” There was no doubt his enthusiasm was what had finally convinced Montclark.
“Should I tip you too?” Lewis asked.
“Beg your pardon?”
“For backing them into the corner in the first place. We both know they wanted to use my connections, not hire me. If you hadn’t jumped in with the idea, it never would have come up.”
“You wanted to rehab your image. What better way than to dazzle them with your newfound dedication to charity?”
“Not to mention impressing Graham Montclark.”
“Oh, do his stations carry the matches? I hadn’t realized.” Putting a hand to her chest, she blinked with false innocence.
Lewis chuckled, his accompanying smile devilishly crooked. “Well played, Ms. Collier. I knew I picked the right woman.”
His words had the smoothness of raw honey dripping from a spoon. They ran through her, leaving a slow warmth.
Her Convenient Christmas Date Page 7
