The Touch of a Woman (10 page)

“I always liked that about freelancing. I never ran out of ideas.”

“I went online and read some of your work,” he said casually.

She waited several seconds for his assessment, but he went about carving his lamb.
“And?”

“And…I found them to be…well structured.” His eyes darted back and forth nervously, clearly aware of his clumsy word choice.

“That’s possibly the very best example I’ve ever heard of damning with faint praise.”

They stared at one another, she with her sternest look and he as though he’d swallowed his foot, before they both burst out laughing.

“I didn’t mean to imply that your stories weren’t good. It’s just that…well, I’m not that big on features.” He gestured toward his plate. “Sort of a meat and potatoes guy.”

Not even when those features shined a light on teachers who found innovative ways to deal with brutal cuts to their classroom budget? Or single mothers who raised two children on minimum wage?

“You had me terrified I’d said something horribly insensitive,” he went on.

“You actually did. Lucky for you, I have enough self-esteem where my writing is concerned to survive your feeble compliments.” In fact, she was proud of her work and confident she could tell an engaging story. While her ego didn’t require glowing accolades, it still was nice to get respect from other writers and people she actually knew. “For your information, I’ve read your work too—everything in the
Vista
archives. Marcie insisted on it. And I shall swallow my indignation and confess that I find it extremely well written and quite compelling. I’d say you have the unique ability to engage readers’ interest in what might otherwise be a boring topic.”

“Thank you very much. And I owe you an apology for—”

“Forget it.” She doubted it would be sincere. “But it would be nice if you stopped to consider once in a while that the policies you write about impact the people I write about.”

“Touché, madame.” He offered a toast with his wine glass.

Despite Rex’s falter, she’d begun to enjoy their conversation, especially as he shed light on the inner workings of the capitol—the alliances and adversaries, the naked ambition and the personal secrets all the players held close. It was especially nice when he probed her for ideas on how to make his stories more meaningful to readers like her.

Still she couldn’t seem to relax.

He was hardly behaving like a rogue. He’d complimented her dress with a momentary leer when he picked her up, but hadn’t said or done anything else she considered flirting. No effusive flattery or touching. It was almost as if getting her to say yes to dinner was his sole conquest. He’d given her little reason to worry about his intentions. Though he showed no sign he expected more than company and conversation, she was prepared to be firm in her refusal. Friends. Anything else was too soon, too complicated.

So why had she come at all? Since the moment they’d met, he’d made no secret of his interest. Interest usually led to desire. Had she come in search of a similar spark? Or had she failed her first test of independence by meekly giving in to the first man who came along?

The more her mind raced with questions, the more she believed she’d made a huge mistake. She was leading him on. Summer had warned her not to do this. Rex could make her job a living hell if he turned on her the way he had on the other assistant editors. What would it take? Would a simple no when he pressed to come inside for a nightcap be enough?

“Is your dinner all right?” he asked, gesturing toward her plate.

Lost in thought, she’d barely touched her food. “It’s wonderful, but it’s such a large portion. I guess I filled up on salad and bread. That’s easy to do when everything is so good.”

He shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll let you take it home.”

She was forced to do exactly that rather than admit the chicken was too spicy.

When the valet delivered his luxury sedan, Rex held her door, offering his hand for support. It was surprisingly callused for a man who made his living as a writer. Bruce’s hands had been soft…enough that she’d once teased him about never having worked an honest day in his life. How cruel those words must have seemed to a man who secretly wasn’t working at all.

“Have you seen much of the city since you’ve been here?” Rex asked.

“Not really.” Her knowledge of Sacramento was largely limited to the route between her apartment and the office, though Jeremy had driven her around the capitol once when she came to visit. That didn’t mean she wanted a tour now. She was ready to go home despite her anxiety over how their evening would end. No, she wouldn’t invite him in for coffee. She dreaded his suggestion to do this again, but not nearly as much as the possibility he might try to kiss her goodnight.

“Then I insist on showing you a few things. We’ll start with the Christmas lights at the Capitol Building.”

The statehouse, bathed in white lights, was admittedly striking with its marble columns and majestic dome. A single Norfolk pine stood in front, decorated with thousands of twinkling lights that gave it a purple glow.

“This is lovely,” she said.

“I love the city at night. Especially over by the river. The buildings reflect off the water, and everything seems…I don’t know, brighter. Livelier.”

They weren’t far from
Vista
’s headquarters, but Ellis usually skirted the capitol to avoid traffic. She’d never seen this side of the mall before, nor ventured toward the Sacramento River.

“Here’s a treat for you,” Rex said as he rounded a curve. Before them was a bridge lit with golden floodlights aimed upward at two tall structures in the center.
“It’s not as majestic as your Golden Gate, but it’s still interesting. This is our Tower Bridge.” He slowed as they drove across, explaining how the segment between the towers lifted like a platform when boats passed underneath.

“I’m impressed.” Though nothing was as splendid as the Golden Gate Bridge.

He smiled proudly, as if he’d built the bridge himself. “And there’s another sight for you.”

She followed his gesture to a glowing building, also golden, on the opposite side of the river. It was built in the triangular shape of a Mayan temple.

“You have your Transamerica Pyramid. We have the Ziggurat.”

The words jolted her. Did he know?

“That’s the headquarters for California’s Department of General Services. I spend a lot of time over there roaming the halls trying to get somebody to talk to me. It’s surprisingly easy. All I have to do is tell them I’ve been talking to so-and-so, and I’m going to run with that unless they want to set me straight.”

Of course he knew. All those years as an investigative reporter whose specialty was connecting the dots and telling stories people didn’t want told. If he’d been determined to find out who she was, it was buried there in the public records—her marriage license, Bruce’s death certificate and her petition to revert to her maiden name.

And now he was fishing, hoping she’d confess that her husband had worked in the Pyramid. That he’d murdered seven of his coworkers. What was his angle? The tragedy one year on. The spinelessness of politicians who refused to pass meaningful gun control. Who refused to fund mental health programs. Or maybe an invasive look into the lives of the survivors. An inventory of her guilt.

Surely he wasn’t entertaining the idea of writing a column about a coworker. That was a breach of journalistic ethics. It just wasn’t done.

“I’d like to go home now.”

“You sure? We could stop in Old Sacramento…walk around a bit. They’ve preserved the—”

“No.” It came out more sharply than she’d intended. On the off chance she was jumping to conclusions, she softened her reply…with a lie. “My daughter is coming by first thing in the morning and I have some things to do to get ready.”

They rode home in silence, with Ellis growing more convinced Rex knew her whole story. That meant he also knew why she’d suddenly canceled the rest of their evening. She was perfectly happy to have him stew on that, and if it made him think twice about asking her out again, so much the better.

She was already out of the car by the time he reached her door. “Thank you for dinner,” she said cordially.

“Oh, that reminds me.” He retrieved her doggie bag from the back seat.

“Great.” She forced a smile. “I’ll have this tomorrow and you’ll have bought me dinner twice.”

Wordlessly, he insisted on walking her to her door. When they reached the doorstep, he took her key, pushed the door open and stepped back, clearly having gotten the message that he wouldn’t be invited in. “Ellis, would you mind if I asked you a question?”

She froze, imagining myriad possibilities, nearly all of them unsettling.

“Was tonight your first date since your husband died?”

That wasn’t the one she’d expected. “Yes.”

“I thought that might be the case.” He pushed his hands in his pockets in a gesture she found pleasantly disarming. “I enjoyed your company very much. I hope I didn’t push anything too far. I’d like it if we could do this again…but I understand if you think it’s too soon.”

Under the circumstances, it was probably the best thing he could have said, and she felt the tension that had been building over the past fifteen minutes begin to dissipate. “I appreciate your sensitivity. It’s definitely a big change and I’m still getting my bearings.” She reached out for his hand and shook it firmly.

His response…it wasn’t exactly a smile. But it was a kind look, more compassion than pity. “I’ll leave it in your hands. Whatever feels right.”

“Thank you, Rex.”

Once inside, she made a beeline for the refrigerator and removed a bottle of chardonnay that she’d corked the night before. The clock on her stove said nine twenty.

But it wasn’t really wine she wanted. She needed to unwind, to talk about her feelings with someone who’d give her sound advice, someone who wouldn’t judge her. In the old days that would have been Roxanne. They hadn’t spoken in months, not since Ellis had called on the verge of tears to mourn the sale of the house she’d lived in for more than two decades. Roxanne couldn’t talk—she was hurrying onto a plane to Tokyo. Ellis’s self-pitying tantrum over being cut off had ruined their thirty-year friendship.

Summer was her refuge now, the only one who’d promised to be there when she needed someone. All evening, she’d found herself wishing for the comfort of their friendship, the ease of their conversations. That friendship mattered more to Ellis than she’d realized, certainly more than a premature romance that brought more risk than reward.

“Come in, come in.” Summer was both surprised and delighted to find Ellis at her door, smiling and holding out an empty coffee mug. “I take it you want me to fill that?”

Ellis removed her thigh-length overcoat to reveal a skin-tight black dress that boasted more than a little cleavage. Clearly she’d been out on the town.

“Holy wow, woman! You look amazing. But if you ask me, it’s a little fancy to be out slumming for coffee.” She fanned her face with both hands. “Not that I’m complaining. You can wear that over here every day as far as I’m concerned.”

She couldn’t help her effusive compliments, especially when she saw Ellis wasn’t bothered by their pseudo-sexual nature. Or maybe her smile meant she was happy to stand on the receiving end of a lesbian’s gushing about her appearance.

“I’m a big believer in making myself presentable when I drop in unannounced.”

“Just don’t expect me to dress like that when I pop over to your place.” Summer looked down at her bedroom slippers and flannel pants. “By now you’ve probably noticed that I wear pajamas at home. Almost exclusively.”

“I have, and I’m jealous. Now I’m wishing I’d taken the time to change.”

“I’d offer you a pair of my sweats, but they wouldn’t get past your knees. Why don’t you run back home and change while I make your coffee?” She liked the dress—she liked the dress a lot—but also wanted Ellis to stay awhile. She’d be more likely to do that if she were comfortable.

“You’ve got a deal,” she said, her high heels clacking as she left.

It appeared she’d followed through on her date with Rex, and now she was coming to dish. Summer felt a twinge of guilt for being glad she was home so early.

She liked knowing Ellis valued their new friendship enough to come here first to share her news. Unfortunately, that also meant she’d have to feign enthusiasm if Ellis was happy with how the evening had gone.

“I think you’re onto something,” Ellis announced when she returned. She’d changed into worn jeans and an oversized white Henley, its sleeves rolled to the elbows. But thanks to her elegant makeup, she still looked far from casual.

“Pajamas are my uniform. I’d wear them to work if they’d let me.” She handed Ellis her mug and guided her into the living room, where she’d been huddled under a Navajo blanket on the couch getting ready to watch a movie.

Ellis held the coffee to her nose and inhaled deeply. “Ahhh. This’ll take the chill off. It’s turning cold out.”

“That’s nothing. Watch this.” Summer scrolled through the channels on her TV until she reached one with an ambient fire, complete with crackling and popping.

“I’ve seen those before but I never knew anyone who’d admit to using one.”

“Because all your friends had real fireplaces, I bet.”

They sat facing one another on opposite ends of the couch, and Ellis helped herself to the blanket, stretching her legs out alongside Summer’s. “So I did it. I went out to dinner with Rex.” Her recounting of the evening sounded mostly mundane until she got to the part about him mentioning the Transamerica Pyramid. “Do you think I’m just being hypersensitive?”

“It’s a helluva coincidence if you ask me.”

“Especially since he used to be an investigative reporter. I bet he knows everything there is to know about me. And instead of saying something, he manipulated the conversation so I’d tell him and he could act surprised.”

Summer chided herself inwardly for being glad the date had ended on a sour note, though she felt a tad guilty for not wanting Ellis to have a good time. “I guess that means Rex is history.”