I Promise (9 page)

I
n the two hours it took to reach Alabama's capitol, Christian held her doubts to whether she would be able to survive the three-day trip. Tchaikovsky's
Overture 1812
played over the car's speakers, challenging her ability to keep her heavy eyelids lifted.

She turned toward her window and stifled a yawn. For the millionth time, she thought about asking Jordan to change the CD, but whenever she glanced in his direction, his fingers drummed in time with the orchestra.

Glancing at her watch, a sense of dread crept over her. As the music's tempo built into a crescendo, Jordan's hands flared dramatically like a crazed conductor.

Christian rolled her eyes heavenward and prayed for strength.

The song ended and her heart skipped a beat when his hand dashed out to eject the CD.

“Is this music bothering you?”

She teetered on whether to tell the truth. “Oh, no. I was just sitting here thinking.” And praying, she wanted to add.

“Oh, good. Not too many people get into the classical scene. Of course, I do owe my ear for music to my mother. She used to perform professionally.”

“Really?” Christian asked with forced interest. “I didn't know that.” Rosa, a singer? Stranger things had been known to happen. Christian shook her head at the crazy thought. Jordan's mother had made it clear how she felt about Christian. There was no love lost between them.

Jordan shrugged. “Not too many people do. Though, she never misses an opportunity to remind Pop of all she sacrificed to marry him.”

“Now that I can believe.”

He laughed. “Oh, but I didn't leave you out. I did grab a few CDs I thought you would enjoy.” Leaning back, he pulled out a long black case from the backseat. With some fancy maneuvering, he selected one and handed it to her.

Christian's expression dropped. “Garth Brooks?”

Jordan shared a wry smile as two dimples bit into his cheeks. “I figured since you were from the Lone Star State, you're really into the country scene.”

“The country scene?” She laughed at his ludicrous assumption.

Reclaiming the CD, he popped it into the stereo.

Christian made no protest. Anything was better than listening to Tchaikovsky.

“So you grew up on a cattle ranch?”

“Here we go again.” She shook her head as she turned to gaze out the window.

“What? Jordan laughed. “Can't a guy be curious?”

She peered at him out of the corner of her eye. “You're interested in cattle breeding?”

“Well, no.” He shrugged. “I'm more interested in what you did on this farm.”

“Ranch,” she corrected, crossing her arms. “I see now. You thought I ran around milking cows and collecting eggs from the chickens. Is that it?”

“Whoa.” Jordan grinned. “I didn't say all of that.”

“But you thought it, right?”

He held up a hand, “Now, please, don't get upset. I don't know what I thought. I'm just having a hard time imaging someone as delicate as you roping and steering cattle.”

His joke fell flat.

“Delicate?” Christian's gaze shifted to the passing scenery. “You know, you should never judge a book by its cover.”

A shadow fell across her features, but her chin lifted and he recognized her quiet strength.

“I seem to keep making that mistake.”

Their eyes met.

“Because there's definitely more to you than meets the eye.”

The corners of her mouth lifted.

“At least I finally succeeded in making you smile. No hard feelings?”

“No hard feelings,” she said with a genuine smile and leaned over to turn up the music.

Jordan's brows furrowed at her.

“Okay. So I like Garth Brooks.”

 

Malcolm leaned back in his chair, mindless of the staff meeting that buzzed on around him. When everyone flipped the pages of their syllabus, he followed on cue.

Christian was gone, but Alex monopolized his thoughts. What had he done to upset her? They had parted last night on good terms, so why the sudden change? The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt his friend's feelings.

The first time he'd met Alex at one of Opulence's many promotional parties, he'd been attracted to her. Her self-confidence and crazy sense of humor had sparked a kindred spirit between them.

Wherever she went, she was the life of the party, enchanting a surrounding crowd with wild stories about life on a cattle ranch.
A cattle ranch
. Malcolm chuckled to himself. No matter how much he tried, he could never envision Alex raising cattle, not with hands like hers.

He sank deeper into his reverie. He couldn't help but notice how soft and delicate her hands were or how her warm gaze always sliced through him. She was different from the other models; different from any other woman he'd ever met actually.

Why hadn't he ever tried to date her? His answer came as quickly as he'd asked the question. He never wanted to hurt her, as he would no doubt do one day. His answer seemed absurd. Hadn't he been ready to tie the knot with Christian just two days ago? Had he known all along that she would turn him down?

He shook his head.

“Do you disagree with our proposal, Mr. Williams?” the speaker's voice broke his reverie.

All eyes turned toward Malcolm.

Brows stretched, Malcolm's gaze caught his father's curious expression from across the table. This wasn't the time to admit he hadn't been paying attention.

“No. Please, do go on.”

The speaker nodded, then continued the meeting in the same dull monotone that had bored Malcolm earlier. He shared a brief smile with his father, then breathed a sigh of relief when Noah returned his attention to the meeting.

Malcolm flinched. His first day on the job and already he'd proven to himself it was going to take more effort than he expected to survive in corporate America.

Product development and finances were more Jordan's forte. Malcolm's talents lay in marketing. Heaven knew what Opulence needed was an entire face-lift. He flipped to the next page of the syllabus. The marketing layout indeed held potential. The aim was for a hint of elegance, but the first word that formed in Malcolm's mind was—
boring
.

Maria, Noah's secretary, slipped into the meeting and whispered something in her employer's ear.

At his father's scowl, Malcolm wondered what caused the reaction.

Noah stood and excused himself.

Malcolm tried to shrug off the incident, but couldn't dismiss it.

An hour later, he sat in his new office ignoring the Profit & Loss reports and studied the marketing layout. Absently, he jotted down his ideas. Opulence's fall collection was breathtaking. His mind reeled at the things he could do to jazz up the marketing campaign.

He turned to a simple snapshot of a yellow diamond. He marveled over its beauty. An image of the diamond nestled against the column of Alex's graceful neck flashed into his mind. A smile possessed his lips as he leaned back in his chair. He could just see her with her cascading curls around her face, while her coal-colored eyes stared seductively into the camera. For the right effect, the layouts needed to be in black-and-white, except for the ten-carat diamond.

Alex. She was a beautiful woman, a beautiful person.

He looked at his watch. Maybe if he rushed, he could still catch her in the studio.

 

Alex pivoted, smiled, and laughed for the photographer. She thrust out her chin, then performed a series of poses as Randolph praised her beauty while marveling over how much his camera loved her.

To her right, a cluster of people watched. She projected strength, oozed sexuality, and exuded confidence with each click of the camera. She should have been an actress, she thought.

“You look fabulous,” Randolph exchanged cameras with his assistant in one fluid motion and, within a blink of an eye, resumed snapping pictures.

Numb, Alex worked through the morning session in a boggled haze. As the hours stretched, she didn't know how much longer she could continue.

“That's a wrap,” Randolph declared.

Alex exhaled a sigh of relief. At least she had an hour before the next session. Between the makeup and wardrobe crew, she wouldn't have much time to herself.

She stepped off the set and massaged the tension locked in her neck muscles.

Sheila breezed into the dressing room. “Oh hey, Alex,” she greeted in her usual sunny disposition. “I didn't know you were working on today's shoot.”

Alex forced a smile. “What can I say? They seem to like me here.”

“Are you going to do their fall collection as well?” Sheila asked, plopping into the chair next to her.

“Nah, I'm out of here next week.”

“Oh, that's right.” Her eyes widened. “You're going to Paris. I'm jealous. I would give my right arm to go.” At Alex's deadpan expression, she asked, “Aren't you excited?”

Alex's thoughts reminded her when she boarded that plane, she would be leaving Malcolm once and all. “Yes,” she forced herself to answer. If she kept repeating it to herself, maybe she would start believing it.

The women fell silent while undergoing transformation from their makeup artists.

“You wouldn't happened to have seen Malcolm around, have you?” Sheila asked suddenly.

Alex shrugged, faking her indifference. “Not since this morning.”

“Humph.” Sheila pouted. “Did he happen to mention me?”

Alex caught the note of hope in Sheila's voice. What was it about Malcolm that had women falling over him? She cooled her resentment with clenched teeth.

“Well?” Sheila asked.

“No, he didn't. He came over to the apartment to see Christian.”

“What?” Sheila's perfect Barbie doll face drained of color.

Alex gained a weird sense of satisfaction from Sheila's reaction. It was catty she knew, but she couldn't help how she felt.

A loud knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Alex called, looking up into the mirror to see the door behind her. She froze at the sight of their visitor.

“Malcolm!” Sheila's face lit up as she jumped from her chair and rushed over to him.

Alex pulled her gaze away and ignored the couple.

“Are those for me?” Sheila referred to the bundle of roses in Malcolm's hand.

“No,” Malcolm answered matter-of-factly. “They're for Alex.”

Alex's gaze shot up to his reflection in the mirror.

“Oh.” Sheila stepped back and allowed him to move forward.

Alex caught the dejected expression on Sheila's face, surprised by the sympathy that pooled in her heart. The irony of the situation hit her. As usual, Malcolm didn't have a clue as to the heartache that he'd caused by moving from one woman to another.

“I hope you don't mind me stopping by,” Malcolm said, placing the flowers on the vanity table. “But I wanted to patch things up between us.”

Careful to keep her emotions hidden, Alex averted her gaze. “There's no need for you to apologize.” Especially, if you don't know what you're apologizing for, she wanted to add.

Sheila crossed her arms and watched them through narrowed eyes.

“Alex,” Malcolm took the vacant chair next to her. “I consider you to be one of my closest friends. It would kill me to know that I'd hurt you in some way. You are the last person I would ever want to hurt.”

His whispered speech pulled at her heartstrings. She lifted her shimmering gaze to his. “Thanks for the roses. They're beautiful.”

Malcolm reached out to take her hand. “Alex, tell me what I did.” The sight of her brimming tears stabbed his heart. His mouth went dry as something he couldn't name blossomed inside of him. Love glistened in her warm gaze and for the first time, Malcolm read the emotion clearly.

Alex pushed up from her chair. “Forget it.”

He stood.

Sheila rushed over and placed her hand against his arm.

“Could you give us a few minutes alone?” he asked the crowd assembled in the room.

Sheila blanched. “Including me?”

“Please?” Malcolm forced a polite tone.

Sheila dropped her hand to her side and glared with contempt at Alex before exiting the room.

Alex turned her back toward him and fumbled with the clothes on the wardrobe rack.

Malcolm studied her rigid back while he searched for the right words. The sadness in her eyes haunted him and he couldn't ignore what had been written in them moments before. The thought of what that emotion meant frightened him.