Back to the Top (Ross Records) (3) (2 page)

I entered the kitchen, suddenly very thirsty, and retrieved a clean glass from the cabinet. Filling it with water, I smiled at the small space. I wasn’t much of a cook and the kitchen suited me well. Small and functional, it was large enough for a round table and four chairs, appliances, and that was about it. The walls were painted a happy yellow that invited warmth when the morning sun streamed through the windows. Floral curtains matched the placemats giving it a feminine look.

The master bedroom I’d painted myself in a pastel blue that soothed me when I sat on my bed, working on a laptop at night. The bedspread was a plaid design with several shades of blue that matched the curtains and the throw rug.

The second bedroom I used as an office. It held a small desk, filing cabinet, and a futon, although I rarely had overnight guests.

Finishing my water, I ran to the bedroom to select a white, flowing skirt, perfect for the early May warmth, and a short sleeved green blouse that brought out the color of my eyes. After laying the outfit on my bed, I grabbed my cordless phone and dialed a number from memory.

“Hello, darling,” the deep voice cooed. “How was your day?”

“Long,” I groaned, picturing the smile on his lips. “Yours?”

“Not too bad,” he said. “How about if you meet me at Pierre’s in an hour for drinks and dinner?”

“Sounds heavenly,” I said as I grinned. “I was just about to shower. I’ll see you soon.”

“Can’t wait,” he said before ending the call.

Placing the phone on the counter, I skipped to the bathroom, eager to wash away the stressful day before meeting my fiancé for dinner.

Two

The doorman tipped his hat as he held open the glass door for me. Giving him a warm smile, I thanked him before stepping inside the dimly lit restaurant. I peeked into the bar as the soft, piano music floated to my ears, driving away any lingering tension.

Sitting at the polished bar, nursing a scotch while conversing with the bowtie-clad bartender, he sat, his broad shoulders evident even through the white dress shirt.

With another smile, I approached, my heels tapping out a rhythm on the tiled floor. I scooted onto the stool beside him, mindful of my skirt, and leaned close. He smelled of success – strong, masculine cologne reminding me of power and boardrooms mixed with the scent of cigars and brandy.

“Hello,” I whispered.

He turned to me, wide smile on his handsome face and pecked my cheek. “Good evening, darling. You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you,” I said as the bartender stood nearby, waiting for my order.

But my date beat me to it. “She’ll have a white wine, please, nothing too sweet.”

With a nod, the bartender hurried away to fetch my drink.

That was Brad Stanich – powerful businessman who not only knew what he wanted, but what everyone else did, too.

“So, how was the field trip?” he asked, his dark eyes grazing my outfit, a glint of approval flashing on his face.

“Not too eventful,” I said. “The children behaved for the most part.”

“Wonderful,” he said, thanking the bartender for the wine glass he placed in front of me. I took a tiny sip. I still wasn’t much on alcohol.

“How about you?” I asked. “Anything eventful?”

“Well,” he said, settling on his stool. “It seems as if we’re acquiring another firm. I’m handling the merger.”

“Wow,” I said, toying with the stem of my glass. “You’ll have quite the firm before long.”

“Indeed,” he said, finishing his drink. As he motioned for another, I studied his lean frame. Nine years my senior, he still had the body of a young athlete and thick, dark hair that showed no signs of thinning.

We’d met late last year but had connected right away. Of course, my parents hadn’t been happy with me dating such an older man, but they’d dealt with it, happy to see me happy again.

When Brad proposed in the early spring, they’d had their doubts, but Brad, with his charm, had managed to convince them that he intended to take care of me.

Seth, on the other hand, had not approved at all. We’d had one of the worst arguments we’d ever had and hardly spoke anymore. It hurt like crazy, especially during family gatherings when he treated me politely as if I was someone he’d just met.

Perhaps he wasn’t quite over Jake, either.

I shuddered, my eyes growing wide.

I
was
over Jake. Period.

“Something wrong, darling?” Brad asked, turning concerned eyes my way.

“What?” I asked, returning to the present. “I’m sorry, my mind was wandering.”

“Oh?” he asked as a frown tugged at his lips.

Smiling, I placed a hand on his arm. “Just thinking about when you proposed and how lucky I am to have you.”

That drew his lips into a smile as he kissed my cheek. “I’m the lucky one, I believe.”

“We could argue this all night,” I said.

He chuckled. “I suppose. But, as I was saying, the senior partner at the firm we’re merging with has a nephew who is around our age. He and his wife are new in town and don’t really know anyone. George, the senior partner, managed to acquire four tickets for a show and asked if we’d like to escort Kevin and Jenny – perhaps show them around a little bit.”

“That sounds nice,” I said. “Is the show in town at the Community Theater?”

“No,” he said. “It’s in Chicago. What do you say?”

“Sure,” I said. “When is this show?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Great,” I said, wondering if I was getting myself into a night of stuffy people and boring musicals. “As long as it has nothing to do with children or fish, I’m in.”

Laughter accented the slight lines near his eyes. “Well, this band has been shrouded in controversy and the tickets are hard to get. I’m sure it’s not to our taste, but I didn’t want to offend George. Anyway, your parents like music so I’m sure you’ve probably heard of them.”

My stomach dropped to my feet. He
had
to be talking about someone else. It just wasn’t possible. Swallowing, I struggled to form a coherent sentence. “The band? Um, I mean, what’s the name of the band?”

“Controlled Environment,” he said, confirming my worst fears.

“Oh, okay,” I said, fighting my way through emotions that spiraled like a tornado. “They’re music isn’t bad.”

“But it’s loud, right?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s loud.” A smile poked at my lips.

“Well,” he sighed, taking a drink. “I’ve already committed and I need to stay in George’s good graces if this merger is to happen. I guess I’ll just have to bear with it.”

Nodding, I downed my wine and ordered another.

***

Brad frowned when I opened the door the following evening. I let him in, wondering what more could make this night even tenser than it promised to be.

“Something the matter?” I asked as he strode into the living room.

Spinning on his heel, his eyes roved my body. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

I glanced at the pink t-shirt I’d donned after my shower. It was plain but clean and free of wrinkles. And it topped my best pair of jeans.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I asked as I scanned his attire. He was dressed in a navy polo shirt and pressed khakis. “It is a rock concert.”

“I suppose,” he said as a frown tugged at his lips and lines furrowed his brow. “But do you have to wear your hair like that?”

Sighing, I slipped out the band that was holding my hair in a neat ponytail. “Let me go run a brush through it.”

I rushed to the bathroom and ran a hairbrush through my hair. In my nervousness, I’d forgotten how much he hated seeing woman over the age of adolescence wearing their hair in a ponytail.

I studied my appearance once more before leaving the room. My hair wasn’t as long as it used to be but it was still as blonde. I wasn’t much for makeup and since it was just a concert and not a formal event, I’d decided to leave my skin bare. My green eyes were shining out of nervousness and fear but I hoped Brad would credit it to a night out – nothing more.

When I returned to the living room, Brad was standing at the window, gazing out at the darkening sky.

“Are you ready?” I asked as a swarm of bees zoomed around my stomach.

“Yes,” he said, nodding his approval at my hair. “You’d better take a jacket.”

After retrieving a jacket from the coat closet, I followed him out the door and to his car. The drive to Chicago usually took about an hour or less, depending on traffic, but he seemed to be in a hurry.

“We’re meeting Kevin and Jenny at a pub close to the venue for a quick dinner,” he said, eyes on the road. “They suggested the place so I’m not too sure what sort of food we’ll be eating.”

I hid a smile as I glanced out my window. Brad hated ‘quick dinners’ when we went out, opting to stretch a meal out to enjoy it. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d gone anywhere for a burger and fries.

Traffic wasn’t horrendous and we found the pub easily. Brad nodded toward a booth in the back where a young, attractive couple sat, perusing menus while sipping glasses of beer.

“Hello again, Kevin,” Brad said.

Kevin stood to shake Brad’s hand with a broad smile. He was older than me, but not by much, and very good looking. His sandy hair was cut short and neat, his hazel eyes sparkling. He was as tall as Brad but had a more relaxed stance.

“Hello, Brad,” Kevin smiled. He gestured toward the pretty girl next to him. “This is my wife, Jenny.”

Jenny shook hands as Kevin introduced us. She had curly, brown hair and big brown eyes. Slim and athletic, she was dressed similar to me but exuded excitement.

As soon as we sat, the waitress scurried over to take our order. Once that was finished, Jenny bounced in her seat, reminding me of a teenager about to meet her boy band crush.

“I love Controlled Environment,” she said. “I can’t believe Kevin’s uncle was able to get tickets. I tried but couldn’t get any.”

“I’ve heard that the tickets were difficult to get,” I said, hoping that she wouldn’t spend the entire time talking about the band. I didn’t want to reveal anything whatsoever to give anyone the idea that I knew anything about Controlled Environment.

Shooting Brad a glance from the corner of my eye, I was relieved to see that he was discussing business with Kevin. Hopefully, he would be so engrossed in his conversation that he would pay no attention to me and Jenny. I had a feeling that she wasn’t going to settle with mundane talk.

“So, how long have you and Kevin been married?” I asked.

“Nearly two years,” she said. “How about you and Brad? You’re engaged, right?”

“Yes,” I said, struggling to produce a smile. “We’ve been engaged for about two months.”

“Oh, that is exciting,” she said. Her face softened when her eyes darted to her husband. My stomach flipped. “Have you picked a date yet?”

I shook my head. “No, not yet. We’ve both been so busy that it’s hard to nail down a good time.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m the activities director at the Children’s Center in Eastville,” I said. “It’s a preschool, kindergarten, and child care center.”

“That’s sounds so nice,” she said. “I love children. Kevin and I have been talking about having a child soon. But he wants me to quit my job when we do have a baby and I’m not sure if I want to do that.”

“What do you do?” I asked, glancing at Brad. He was still deeply immersed in his discussion with Kevin.

“I work part time at a bank. I’m a teller,” she said. “It doesn’t sound like much but I like it. Kevin works in George’s law firm – but Brad probably told you that, right?”

I couldn’t remember him mentioning it but I nodded anyway. I didn’t want her to think Brad rude.

Our food arrived and conversation slowed as we ate. Brad remained composed but I knew him well enough to tell that he was not enjoying his grilled chicken sandwich. His shoulders were stiff, his face tight, and when he spoke, it was in clipped sentences.

We finished our meal, paid our tab, and headed down the street to the venue. My nerves had calmed somewhat at the pub where I was able to pretend that I was enjoying dinner with friends.

But now, my heart was thrumming like cello strings. The bit of chicken salad that I’d managed to eat was now churning in my stomach. My nerves twitched and shook enough that I put on my jacket just so I could hide my trembling hands.

A line had formed but the doors were already open, allowing the crowd to stream inside. Brad accepted our tickets from Kevin and I was glad. I didn’t want to hold out a ticket and have Brad see it shake like a leaf in a storm.

At least our seats were in the balcony – front row of course. Irony certainly has a sense of humor.

After figuring out the seating order – me, Jenny, Kevin, and Brad (Brad suggesting the ladies sit together) – the men left to get drinks. Jenny fidgeted in her seat, her eyes on the huge red curtain blocking the stage. I couldn’t look – didn’t want to.