Shattered Heart

by Carol May

  “Ha! Ha! Very funny. I’ve never had a man complain about my communication skills. “As if it just hit her I am standing beside my car,” Hey, I didn’t know you drove today. What’s up with that?”

  She’s managing me again. Nodding my head and patting the roof, “Yep, as you can see I sure did. I just felt like it this morning but now I wish common sense had taken over and prevented me from doing something stupid like driving.”

  Sounding like some kind of broken record, huffing just a little, “That’s about the only thing I dislike here. People are crazy drivers.”

  Putting one hand on her hip, Lana just stood there without saying much. “I don’t drive here so I have no comment. Hey, by the way, feeble attempt at changing the subject.”

  “Seriously, he must be attracted. I doubt he would still be contacting you if he wasn’t.” Walking over to the car as I sit down, “Yeah, I know. Did you see him, Lana? He is gorgeous.”

  “Honey, that doesn’t describe him. He is H-O-T. Heck, I’m attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be?”

  “I don’t know something just doesn’t feel right. Men that look like him don’t go for women that look like me.”

  “You didn’t always feel that way, Charli.” Suddenly, I felt as if the weight of the world had just dropped onto my shoulders. It must have shown on my face. Lana asked, “Have you talked to him, at all?”

  “Nope. Don’t intend to,” as I wipe a tear from my eye.

  “Well, alright then. Enough said.”

  Lana possesses some sixth sense and seems to know just when I need a hug. Holding her arms out, “Come here you.”

  “Thanks.” I turn around get into my car. “See ya tomorrow,” I say as I close the door.

  I stopped by Lana’s office the next morning catching Joan in there as well. “Good morning, ladies. How’s the world treating you this fine morning? I saw that! You two looking like I’ve lost my marbles. Can’t a woman be in a really, really good mood in the morning?”

  At almost the same time, I heard “No” then Joan answered “Well not you anyway.” Lana must have realized how that sounded because she jumped in with, “Charli Jensen, I have known you for almost fifteen years and you have never in all that time been a morning person, not one time. What’s up?”

  Raising my right hand, “I swear nothing is up. I just slept really, really well last night. Hey, what about a drink after work today? Besides I really owe the two of you an apology for all my bitchiness lately.”

  “I don’t know why you think you owe us any apologies, Charli, that’s just who you are,” Lana said smiling.

  Scrunching my forehead as if I was confused and placing my hand on my chest, “Who says I should be the only one apologizing, Lana?”

  “All three of us have been working really hard lately, Lana replied. Joan agreed we had been working exceptionally hard but it is also beginning to pay off. “I think we could all use a couple of drinks, just to relax.”

  “I’m up for a drink tonight minus the shop talk. What about you Lana? Joan?”

  “OK, Charli, you’re right about needing some “girl talk” time. We all three need to remember to enjoy this time in our lives,” Joan replied smiling.

  Our business reputation is growing right along with our funds. Granted landing The Blaine Company’s account, would have helped us really get our name out there more but we haven’t done bad.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

  “Ok ladies, lets get out of here and get our girl groove on, I say as I walk out to the front, where Joan is tap, tap, tapping away oh her keyboard. She looks up, “Give me about ten minutes.”

  I poke my head into Lana’s office, I mouth ten minutes when I realize she is on her cell. My phone is dancing the cha-cha across my desk as I enter my office. “Aren’t you going to answer that?” I shake my head at Lana as she walks into the room.

  “Let’s see the first round must be work related because we just booked Atwood Aviation.” Swallowing hard, I just looked at her. Lana knows how I feel about planes.

  Closing my laptop, “Let’s lock up and get out of here.” Meeting in the lobby, we stood discussing the pros/cons of the places around us, we decide Chester’s. It’s one of those national chains that has a restaurant/ bar combo. After a brief, actually very brief discussion, we agreed to walk the three blocks. We each headed back to our desks to change shoes. Walking might justify some nachos/cheese that Chester’s was known for.

  ”Let’s go ladies, my stomach is rumbling.” Since we can’t all walk side by side, I step back letting Joan and Lana out first. I lock up, turn around and stop dead in my tracks.

  There he is. Mr. Darn Good Looking Donovan in all his glory propped against a navy SUV that probably costs more than what I made last year. His arrogance radiates from him. No arrogance isn’t the word, it’s more like haughty. Eureka! That’s it. Haughtiness. Never in a million years, would I admit this to him but damn any man that looks like him has good reason to be arrogant along with haughty. It’s his stance- hands tucked into his pockets, jacket unbuttoned, tie loosened, legs crossed at his feet, and topping it off were those piercing eyes peering at me over his black aviator sunglasses. There is only one word to describe him, HOT.

  Slightly nodding his head, “Ms. Jensen, Ladies.” The way he just said my name drips sex. I could throw him down, and devour him in the middle of this street.

  “Mr. Donovan,” I say without showing any emotion. The girls are looking back and forth between the two of us. I will absolutely kill them if either one of them says a word or makes a sound.

  “May I have a word?”

  I shake my head slightly, turn away and begin walking. I try to gracefully stomp (can you stomp gracefully?) past the girls leaving them behind hustling to catch up. I can’t believe him.

  “Ah, Charli what would a “word” hurt?”

  If looks could kill, I think my best friend would at least be falling to the ground with a death pallor consuming her.

  “Lana who the hell says that? Just tell me?”

  She stops, looks back, looks at me and mumbles with just a hint of a smile, “Ah, apparently Mr. Donovan?”

  “Lana, you aren’t going to shut up are you?”

  Joan pipes in with a “If she shuts up, I’ll start in.”

  I close my eyes, take a deep breath and turn around. Lord, he is delicious. Retracing my steps back to stand in front of him, he gives me that smile. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear my panties just melted away.

  “Yes, Mr. Donovan?

  “Houston.”

  “Mr. Donovan, is that the word you wanted to have with me? Let me see if I understand this, all the time we have been texting, all you really wanted to discuss is how I should address you? Ok, we’ve established that so I’ll be off.”

  Turning, he gently touches my arm, “I really don’t think so.”

  follow his gaze as he looks down the sidewalk beyond Lana and Joan. What’s he looking at?

  “Where were the three of you off to?”

  “Chester’s Bar and Grill. Why?”

  Walking the ten or so steps over to the girls, he has a brief word and the three of them return.

  “We’ll give the three of you a lift to Chester’s.”

  Giving them my wrinkled nose face, all three of them could interpret its meaning. Sheepishly, Lana explained, “I didn’t want to tell you but my feet are hurting. The thoughts of walking three blocks was making them hurt even more. Mr. Donovan has offered us a ride. I agreed.”

  Looking over at Joan, “I agreed also, Charli.”

  I would feel silly walking by myself so I give in.

  Before Joan can open the front door, the driver comes around getting it for her.

  “Nash, we’ll drop the ladies at the Chester’s Bar and Grill just down the street.”

  Chapter 7

  Arriving at Chester’s in what seemed five minutes or less, (This man sure drove as if he was a native Miamian.) I suggest they go on in. Both Joan
and Lana seemed a little unsure about getting out. “It’s ok, go on. I’ll be inside in a few minutes.”

  As Lana is opening her door I reach over, touching her arm saying “Hey, wait about 10 minutes, then order me a Sidecar instead of a Margarita.”

  Lana looks at me as if I had suddenly grown a second head, “Sure. I’ll wait 10 minutes and order you a Sidecar.”

  Looking out the window, I watch them as they are talking to Nash. Sometime during my 32 years, I’ve finally learned to trust my instincts. They are telling me I was the topic of discussion out there in the middle of Chester’s parking lot. My instincts are also telling me that I’m not going inside. The realization hits me, it was never meant for me to have drinks with them.

  Looking toward him with questioning eyes, “I’m not going inside am I?” I ask even though the question didn’t need answering.

  He turns in his seat giving me the full on frontal view allowing our eyes to meet. Just as I begin to slide over to occupy the space beside the door, he answers with a patronizing tone. “Charli, I can assure you that is your decision not mine. I am not in the habit of kidnapping if that is your concern.”

  Almost stuttering, which is something I haven’t done in many years, I hurl my response, “Well that’s good to know.” As if an invisible switch has been flipped, it was all I can do to contain myself.

  “You changed your choice of cocktail to a “Sidecar. I find that interesting. Since, I heard you mention it, I have been sitting here, trying to remember if anyone I know ever orders a Sidecar.”

  “Mr. Donovan, I…”

  “Houston, must I continue to repeat myself?”

  Taking a deep breath, “Houston, I like unique things.”

  “I can assure you, Charli that is one thing we have in common. Liking unique things. I have spent just about every day of my adult life searching for unique things in one form or another.”

  “Did you know the Sidecar was supposedly created in the 1920’s in Paris?”

  With somewhat of an amused little laugh Houston continues, “No, I didn’t, sweet lady. You seem to have some knowledge of its origin so I am assuming you drink it often.”

  “No, I mean yes I do like it but I rarely drink it. I know about its existence because of research I recently conducted for a proposal we presented.”

  He turns away from me, and looks out the window for what seems like a long time but in reality was only a brief minute or two, I am sure.

  It’s not like I got out my stopwatch but I finally broke the silence by asking, “Houston, why did you come to my office?”

  “When his facial expression changed; it was as if he had a revelation. When he spoke it was almost solemn. “There is an event later this year that I originally planned to discuss with you. However, after considerable thought, I have changed my mind.”

  “Oh ok. So why are you telling me this?”

  He continued on, “This event is quite the social affair in my circle, which translates in a great deal of organization being required.”

  “Let me give you a little piece of information about what I do, I organize corporate events, recreational usually, so believe me I understand what it takes to bring together an event.” It is if a ton of bricks has hit me on the head, I had that instinctive feeling again. “Wait a minute, are you asking me to do some type of work for this whatever?”

  “Good Lord no. Those pieces are handled in advance, often years.” Continuing on, “You would have the opportunity to create what could possibly be some valuable contacts to introduce Supreme Corporate Travel to.” Running his hand through his hair, as if he was somewhat irritated, he exhales and continues. “This event is very exclusive with some extremely influential people attending. It is quite the gathering of individuals from various industries.” In my social circles, The Black and Gold Gala is one of the premier events. The Gala attendees, as the name describes, are required to dress in either or both of the two colors. Visually, it is spectacular.

  Smiling, I gently touch his arm. “I know you will find this very difficult to believe, I’m naturally not a rude person but is there a point to this conversation?”

  He sits there as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders at that very moment. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? Thanks for thinking of SCT. I appreciate it honestly but since I have never heard of this Black and Gold Gala I really can’t be upset that you have changed your mind.

  Confused somewhat by this strange conversation I continued, “Houston, I have a drink waiting for me inside.”

  “No actually, you more than likely don’t. I am sure Nash anticipated we would be awhile and that your drink would be getting warm. Which means he would have told your friends to not order for you.”

  Taking a deep breath, I can’t decide who to be upset with, him or Nash. Maybe neither. Nash was anticipating my needs. From what Houston has just said, Nash understands his cocktails. He knows my drink wouldn’t come with ice. To truly enjoy a Sidecar, it must be consumed soon after it is created while the contents are cool. Houston calls Nash to inquire about my missing cocktail.

  Houston’s eyes met mine, he nodded and smiled. While he was wrapping up his call, I sent Lana a text. Somehow, think you already know. Change of plans. Not coming in. C… U… N… morning.☺

  Chapter 8

  Houston raises his eyebrows just a little as I move away from the center of the seat to near the door. “You might bite” as I give him just a small smile.

  “Only if you want me to, Ms. Jensen. Only if you want me to.” He replies with a wicked snicker. I’m not sure if it is his physical response or the playful, at least I hope playful, comment that gives me a warm feeling.

  As we speed along, I notice we are heading down I-95. I have absolutely no idea where we’re heading but this is the first time in a very long time that I have been ok with this feeling. I glance over and realize, Houston is looking at me.

  “What?”

  “I was wondering just how long it would take you to begin questioning our destination.”

  “Now that you mention it, I notice we are on 95.”

  “We are headed to Coral Gables”

  “Oh, ok. You’re not rushing me off to be sold in a human trafficking plot that you hear about.”

  “Charli, while I am sure you are trying your best to be humorous, I can only hope that isn’t a topic or thought that you find in the least bit truthful. No I am not.”

  Turning my head, it’s all I can do not to let my mouth literally fall open. I do manage to get out “No of course, I don’t.”

  It takes me a minute to gather my wits. “What’s in Coral Gables? You know, I’ve lived in the Miami area for a little over a year and never been to Coral Gables.”

  “Really? I try to get out there at least every other time I am in Miami.”

  “Oh, you don’t live here? In Miami, I mean.”

  “No, I have regional offices here that I visit frequently.”

  “For some reason, I assumed you lived here.”

  “No, while I do like the warmth, the summer heat is just a little too much for me. I really prefer the four seasons.”

  “You know, I made a comment similar to that to a native Miamian. He laughed at me and said we may not have four seasons but we do have two, hurricane and tourist. I didn’t really understand at first but now I completely get it.”

  “We are heading into The Museum and Gardens of Biscayne. I thought this might be an interesting place for us to share. You seemed to be focused on the old photograph at lunch that day.”

  I smile. I am not sure if it’s because he remembers the first day we met or if the smile is due to the fact that I am sitting beside the best looking man I have ever laid my eyes on. While pondering the answer I notice Nash is driving through a gate. On the inside of this gated area is a drive leading to a villa with stunning greenery and foliage. As the three of us exit the SUV, I notice most people are leaving the grounds. A security guard approac
hes us but Nash steps in and has a conversation with him. I glance up at Houston who is continuing to walk. The guard nods his head, turns away and begins talking on a radio. I wonder what that was all about but I don’t mention it. Neither, Houston or Nash makes a comment.

  Walking silently, through this stunning estate, I feel the grandeur of America’s wealthy from years gone by. Strolling side by side with Houston through, what must be European inspired, grounds I feel oddly calm. It was obvious immediately as he guided us to a stunning courtyard that he was familiar with this phenomenal place. We stopped at the entrance of what the plaque on the side of the archway we stood beside identified as The Secret Gardens. Looking around, he spoke with a calmness that I hadn’t heard earlier.

  Houston breaks the silence, “The first time I came here, I was moved by the beauty and tranquility I felt.” Looking around at the beauty, he finally continues with a deep sigh, “I try to get out here every time I am in Miami.”

  Smiling, as my eyes moved around each stone freestanding wall, “I certainly can understand why” was my only comment.

  Gently placing his hand on the small of my back, he guides me across a moss outlined pathway. We stopped at the opposite end of the entrance. Where two cocktail glasses sit on a top step near an enclosed alcove. Suddenly, the air around me feels as if a storm was brewing on the horizon. Houston must have felt it also.

  Attempting to calm the tempest brewing between us he jokingly comments, “Mademoiselle, I believe you ordered a Sidecar earlier. I would never want to come between a lady and her beverage.”

  Tilting my head and responding in one of the few French words I was familiar with, “Why thank you monsieur.”

  Moving to the top of the steps, I was almost eye level with Houston as he handed my drink to me. Tilting my head that tiny bit, I found his smoldering eyes focused on my face. Causing me to wonder, if my eyes mirror the passion I see in his.

  “Come here, Charli.” Before I could respond, his hands were on my waist pulling me to him, causing me to drop the cocktail glass where it shattered as it hit the ground. “I am going to kiss you, Charli. I’ve wanted this since I saw you standing beside that table lost in those photographs.”