Rough Harbor (8 page)

The trip into Manhattan did not take that long, as the traffic was relatively light. Mrs. Biddle’s driver, Henry, took the Lincoln Town Car smoothly over the narrow roads of the Merritt Parkway and through the Cross Bronx expressway into the city. Horatio’s, Tony Biddle’s newest creation, was in the mid-twenties and on Park Avenue South. They were mostly silent on the ride in, and Caitlyn almost certain that Adriana had dozed off for a little while – which was fine with Caitlyn, since she used the time to counter her natural dislike of Town Cars and focus instead on dredging up everything she could remember about Tony Biddle.

He had once worked in advertising and chucked that to go to culinary school. Frustrated by what he viewed as his own lack of patience and creativity to be a truly great chef, he used his family connections to raise money and started a bistro with one of his more promising culinary school classmates. The restaurant, small and unknown, had quickly become a success, in part because of Tony’s infectious personality.

Important people, or those whose opinions seemed to matter, came for the food and returned for Tony. The success had given him the ability to expand. The original bistro was long gone, but now his restaurants dotted New York, London and San Francisco. He had a little empire on his hands, and that was all Caitlyn needed to know.

“We’re here now,” Caitlyn said gently, and Mrs. Biddle’s eyes fluttered open, blinking as she tried to get her bearings. Caitlyn let her wake up slowly and waited as the car came to a stop. A restaurant wasn’t quite a movie premiere, but there was some of the same atmosphere of anticipation with velvet ropes and security at the door combining to create energy, that buzz of a happening, in the air.

Caitlyn gave Mrs. Biddle her arm, and together they walked up the short carpet to the door. A flash popped in their faces, surprising Caitlyn, but the other woman was prepared.

“Smile, Caitlyn. Jeffrey always did photograph well.”

Caitlyn smiled in time for the next flash of light and guided Mrs. Biddle into the crowd.

“Will there be people you know?” Caitlyn asked.

“Of course. You won’t have to babysit me all night.”

“That wasn’t what I meant, Mrs. Biddle.”

“I think you should call me Adriana now. Mrs. Biddle sounds so formal.” It was on the tip of her tongue to say that was how Caitlyn preferred it, but she didn’t. Adriana was a client, after all, no matter how complicated their history.

“Fine, Adriana, may I get you something to drink?”

“Yes, let’s have champagne.” A waitress, hearing this, swished by, and champagne flutes were delivered to them.

“And now let’s see if we can find Tony,” Adriana said and moved nimbly through the crowd. Caitlyn smiled. The woman was in her element, surrounded by people, certain and confident, any traces of the old lady vanished. Gamely, Caitlyn followed, checking off faces she recognized. There were some actors here, not quite stars, but perhaps soon to be. A few people looked like they might be musicians, and there were quite a few others who looked like they belonged on the business side, as managers, promoters or executives.

Caitlyn was aware of more than a few men’s eyes following her through the crowd, and in spite of herself, she felt a warm flush, the automatic response to admiration. It had been a good thing, if only for her ego, to come here and to remember that she could still engage in the game of attraction without becoming too involved.

“There you are,” Adriana said and pulled Caitlyn closer.

“Caitlyn Montgomery, this is my nephew, Tony Biddle.”

“Hello.” It was necessary to shout in order to be heard above the noise of the conversation and the pulsing world beat music.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” Caitlyn said. “I’ve been to Daisies in London, and I loved it.”

“Thank you.” Tony Biddle was, as she remembered from their one brief encounter, a tall man, almost gauntly thin, tending towards baldness, which he compensated for by keeping his head closely shaved. He wore a slate gray turtleneck sweater and black wool trousers, topped off by a leather jacket and shiny, square-toed shoes. He had very white teeth, a tremendous smile, and his manner was warm and friendly, especially towards Adriana, whom he called Addie.

“And what are you doing here with my aunt?” he asked.

“I work for her at the Randall Group.”

“Ah, the money people.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, Addie was kind enough to help me with my restaurants.”

“Over Maxwell Randall’s objections, I might add,” Adriana said.

“Well, I’m sure he was right. Most restaurants fail,” Tony laughed, now able to enjoy the joke.

Lights swirled around them, and people started to dance. Waitresses passed around food and drinks; instead of the traditional black and white, they were all stunning young women in red dresses that showed off various levels of décolletage. The whole place had the feeling of being inside a genie’s bottle, the high ceilings draped in fabric, the swirl of deep, rich colors.

“But you’ve managed to beat that record quite nicely,” Caitlyn said. “Quite an impressive feat.”

“Well, I need new investors for the next one. This time I want to go to Tokyo.”

“Have you thought about diversifying your portfolio, expanding your investment base, your access to capital?”

“Not really, but I bet you can help with that,” Tony said, following it with a wink to let Caitlyn know that she hadn’t gone too far.

“Of course I can. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, and we can talk further.”

Tony looked over at his aunt, whose eyes were already roving the crowd to see who else she knew. He laughed.

“She’s always matchmaking somehow. Sure, give me a call tomorrow, and we’ll talk. I’m familiar with your work, as they say. I have friends in London.”

Caitlyn smiled, hoping that they weren’t good friends, and took an appetizer. It was duck in puff pastry and absolutely amazing.

“Wonderful,” she told him, and he smiled.

“There’s Carlos Mitchell. I really must speak to him. Come along.” Adriana pulled Caitlyn’s hand, and they moved off through the crowd to an older man who wore his jet black hair brushed off his forehead, attractive silver streaks at his temple, with a face set off by a craggy nose and wide lips.

He smiled when he saw Adriana, and introductions were made. Caitlyn soon lost interest as the two spoke about people she did not know. All the same, she was excited. She had managed to get a meeting with Tony Biddle. He could be the big one. He was established, already a big name. If she managed to help him, than he could well be a stepping-stone, an entrée into world of the young and rapidly rich. Tonight could be very valuable indeed. There were others here, the managers and the producers who needed her services and had access to the clients with the money.

Caitlyn glanced back at Adriana, who was still engrossed with Carlos. They had been joined by a small crowd, and not all of them old. Knowing she would not be missed, Caitlyn began making the rounds. She felt a surge of exhilaration. The hunt was on.

She was doing well, having latched on to someone she knew slightly, a London theater producer who just happened to be in New York at the moment. She managed to exchange cards with quite a few people before she turned around, startled.

“What are you doing here?” Noah said.

“I could ask the same of you,” she said to him.

“Well, I was invited.”

“And so was I.” So there, she thought, but did not say it.

“You look amazing,” he whispered, leaning in and kissing her cheek, his lips brushing past hers so quickly that it could have been inadvertent, but as they pulled apart, she could still feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. He wore a blue shirt, open necked, and a cashmere blazer. His hair was combed back, and he looked, compared to almost everyone else, very tan and golden in the sweeping lights.

“I came here with a client,” she said, feeling her face burning from where his lips had been. She had promised herself that, no matter what Noah Randall did, she would keep her distance. At least until he had figured out what to do with the Randall Group. Or she had.

“Adriana?” he guessed.

“How did you know?”

“I was her back-up date if she couldn’t get you,” he said, smiling. His hand still held hers, and she pulled it away, aware that they were in a room full of people.

“How strange,” Caitlyn said.

“Really? Am I that bad?”

“That’s not what I meant. I thought I was her back-up. You came on your own?” Caitlyn asked, desperately wanting the answer to be yes, knowing that even if she didn’t want him, she didn’t want anyone else to, either. Childish, she chided herself, but she couldn’t help it.

“Yes. After all, I’m only in town on business, and you’re the only girl I know on this coast.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

He was looking down at her, tan, handsome, smug, even. Noah had always been cocky, able to walk in a room, look around and soon command the center of attention. But he was no grandstander. People – well, women, Caitlyn admitted to herself – had always gravitated to him, which was why she’d been like an overeager puppy that summer. Sure, she’d done her best to play it cool, using every trick she’d picked up people-watching in Paris, but inside she’d been a big puddle of grateful happiness that Noah Randall wanted her. Ancient history
,
she told herself.

Before he could answer, Tony Biddle descended upon them with a glass of champagne in his hand. He grabbed Noah in a great hug.

“Everyone loves it. They keep asking me who the fairy godmother on this project is. So many people want to meet you. Come, come.” He gestured impatiently.

Noah looked at Caitlyn with a smile, said, “Seems like I’m a wanted man,” and followed Tony through the crowd. Caitlyn was puzzled for a moment before she understood that Tony was referring to Noah’s involvement as an investor in the restaurant.

Alone now, she looked around until she spotted a group of women, one of whom she had met earlier. Caitlyn sidled up to them, hoping to join in their conversation.

“That’s Noah Randall.”

“He’s cute.”

“He’s that software entrepreneur. Heard he just sold his company and made a bundle,” another one said.

Caitlyn moved in ever-so-slightly, receiving tepid nods as she went into information-gathering mode.

“I thought he was from California. He was dating the director’s daughter, Lakota Reynolds, but they broke up.”

“Oh, they broke up ages ago. You’re thinking of the brunette who was just in that movie that made everyone cry. He went to the premiere with her. Pictures, so cute!”

They mentioned the name of the movie, and Caitlyn remembered hearing about it. Unfortunately, the actress’s assets had gotten more attention than the actual movie.

“I hear he’s moving back to the East coast. Some new business venture.” That was news to Caitlyn. She thought he was only here temporarily.

A tall, blonde woman looked at him speculatively.

“I heard he was here for a funeral,” another one said.

They all agreed he looked a little sad.

“I think I might go and comfort him.” The blonde pursed her lips, considering, and then plunged in.

Caitlyn almost said no and then stopped herself. Noah could speak to whomever he wished, and if this woman was his type – tall, tanned, blonde and with abs that could crush beer cans – then far be it for her to stop it. Caitlyn broke away from the group, watching as blondie made her move on Noah, disengaged him from whomever he was speaking with and worked him out onto the dance floor. Caitlyn took another glass of champagne and watched as the vigorous dancer moved all over Noah.

He caught her eye once and looked almost as if he were pleading for rescue, but she shrugged. He was a grown man, a CEO, and if he could handle investors, employees and customers, he could surely handle one overbearing woman.

Caitlyn didn’t let herself be a wallflower, either. A nice banker, Kevin, who was still in his pinstripes, asked her to dance, and she said yes. After that, there were others, and the time passed until she checked her watch, saw it was nearly eleven and, realizing her feet were killing her, knew it was time to find Adriana.

She found her at a table, sitting with a group of people. “There you are, Caitlyn. Looked like you were having a lovely time out there.”

Caitlyn smiled. A few of her dance partners had insisted on getting her business card, but she sincerely hoped none of them would call. Her eyes strayed to Noah. He wasn’t dancing anymore, but the blonde was still draped over his arm. They stood at the bar, having a drink while Noah talked, the blonde’s gaze fixed on him adoringly.

As if he felt her eyes on him, he turned, looked in her direction and held her stare. He did nothing, made no gesture, just looked at her with such intensity, his jaw set, his face dark, that she felt him burning into her. It was an invitation. Caitlyn knew – she knew that if she just walked over there, the blonde would be history and that Noah would take her, be hers. The full realization of how much she wanted that to happen swamped her, and it took all of her willpower to gather Adriana up and hurry her out the door, forcing herself not to look over her shoulder, lest her resolve break.

Boss, Caitlyn told herself. Rich playboy, she said. She’d already made that mistake in London, and she wasn’t going to make it again. Not to mention that he was the boy who had dumped her ten years ago because she wasn’t ready. He was all of those things, and still, she wanted to throw her caution, her resolve to the wind.

“You seem to be in quite the hurry to go,” Adrianna remarked, her voice placid as Henry brought the car around for them. They were near the entrance, and the fresh air was pouring in and over her, and Caitlyn felt her body settle down, the hot flame of longing die off.

She could do this. She just needed to stay out of Noah Randall’s orbit. He had to go back to California soon, to his real life. Queensbay, the firm, it had to be nothing more than a distraction for him, a distraction from his desire to build and grow things.