Shattered Heart (4 page)

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 approaches 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.”

“Houston” a light sigh escaping from me as we melted together like ice cubes in the hot Florida sun. My hands found their way to Houston’s broad shoulders steading myself. I don’t know how long we stayed locked in that kiss savoring the feel of each other. The warmth that is spreading through my body s at such a level of intensity, I’m not sure if I will be able to stand alone when his firm lips leave mine. From the minute we separate, I know this isn’t the only kiss we will share. I keep my eyes closed just for that extra second trying to savor the last moments of our connection. A connection that I already want again. Looking down, I step back to collect myself. Problem is, I am not sure I really want to.

As he spoke, Houston stepped toward me. “Charli, I have many talents.”

I begin stepping backward. Interrupting him, smiling provocatively, “Of that I have no doubt.” I continued moving backward attempting to put enough space between us to allow me to think.

“One of my talents is reading people and anticipating their needs.”

Stepping slowing, all I can manage to mutter is, “Oh.” I reach my limit, literally. I was backed up against a stone wall.

Continuing forward until there was maybe a couple of inches between us, he placed his palms on each side of my head against the wall. Leaning into me, I felt his hot breath as he whispered in my ear, “For example, at this moment, I know you want me as much as I want you.” His head bends to my neck, blowing that hot breath in a trail against me, ending with his mouth finding mine.

Breaking our kiss as I put my hands on his chest. (Oh my. He feels so good.) “I don’t know what came over me, Houston. I certainly do not act like I just did with men I don’t know.”

Backing away from me, he asked in a tone I was unsure of, “Charli, what did we just do?

I stood there without answering him, he continued on. “We shared passionate kisses in a romantic setting. That is something any sane man would want to experience with a woman as beautiful as you.”

A shocked expression must have come across my face at that comment because he continued, “You are, you know? Beautiful.”

Smiling feebly, all I could say to his compliment was, “Thank you.”

“We are adults and I can assure you, we have done nothing wrong.” Briefly looking down at the shattered glass, “Of course, someone on staff will believe that the broken shards of an antique cocktail glass is wrong. Perhaps, that is our cue to leave. How do you feel about leaving the scene of the crime?”

Again, placing his hand on my back guiding me out of this magical place, we retrace our footsteps. I hear the whir of something. Turning around, Nash pulls up beside us in a four seat golf cart.

Winking, “Lovely lady, your chariot awaits.”

“If this is my chariot are you my Knight in shining armor my dear sir?” I ask with a pretend curtsy.

“I don’t know about being a Knight but if that is what you want me to be, then yes I will be your knight but I hope Nash doesn’t turn into a rat at sundown.”

Nash quickly replies, “I hope not either sir, I hope not either.” We all laugh as Nash whips us through the grounds.