Talk of the Town (16 page)

Rebecca wasn’t so sure she knew the truth, and she was nearly positive she wouldn’t be
truly
happy for quite some time, if ever, but who was she to burst Pauline’s bubble?

She left Pauline content at the switchboard in the lobby. By the time Rebecca climbed the stairs to deliver Kate’s promised treat of RL’s Chopped Waldolf Chicken Salad, the nagging need to have the truth confirmed got the better of her. Before pride stopped her, Rebecca blurted it out. “Kate, do you know where David has been all week?”

Kate peered up over the top of her tortoiseshell half-glasses as she opened her lunch. “No. But I’m grateful his absence gives me a few more days to decide about the finance column.”

“Shannon is gone this week, too.”

Kate looked as startled as Pauline had earlier. “Surely you don’t believe they’re together?”

Rebecca shrugged. “They were together that first night at Allen’s. And sort of together at the cook-off. So, yes, I think they might be together now.” Unable to muster another fib, Rebecca flung herself into Kate’s soft new black leather chair, which had replaced the hard, old, ugly one, and prepared to confess. “I
know
it’s really none of my business if they’re together. And I know it’s my own stupid fault for thinking about it at all.”

Kate was watching her with so much sadness and concern on her face, Rebecca had to look away. She intently studied her fingers twisting together on her lap, or she’d burst into hot, painful tears. “Pretty dumb, huh? For a woman of my age to so misunderstand his actions. To start believing my own publicity.
Never
a good idea.”

She forced a smile before looking up, her eyes welling with tears despite her best efforts to hide her feelings.

“I’m sorry,” Kate said quietly, her face etched with sorrow. “My instincts tell me you’re wrong about David and Shannon being together. However, you’re obviously in pain. How can I help you?”

“You can’t, Kate.” To Rebecca’s horror, her own voice cracked a little. “As my granny taught me, ultimately, we all must save ourselves.”

By Thursday night, nesting in her condo to lick her wounds, surrounded by scented candles and music, Rebecca called on all her years of practice in saving face
.
It wasn’t quite as good as saving herself, because inevitably there was extra baggage that needed to be lugged around on a daily basis. Lately the baggage had become heavier than usual.

To get back to where she needed to be—confident, devil-may-care, able to lift her heavy baggage in a single hand, emotionally unattached, focused on getting her identity back—she went through her recipe for survival.

A pinch of self-pity. Granted, she’d allowed herself a smidgen more than she should have these past months since David fired her, and in the last days because of David himself, but she was still well under her recommended daily allowance.

A really healthy dose of anger. Yes, anger was good. When mixed with determination, focus, desire, and tenacity, it was incredibly delicious. She’d been feasting on it for years.

So why do I suddenly feel like I’m starving to death?

The phone’s shrill ring startled her up off the plump pillows on the couch.

“Mr. Sumner to see you, Miss Covington,” Malcolm, her doorman, announced.

Delight zinged through her body in a burst of bubbles, like too much champagne, making her giddy and reckless.

No, my survival needs anger now!

“It’s late, Malcolm,” she said coolly into the awkward silence that had fallen on the other end of the line during the time she was remembering who she was and what she needed to do to save herself.

“Miss Covington. Mr. Sumner to see you,” Malcolm repeated, strain echoing in every syllable.

For a moment she’d forgotten the other half of the anger cup. Don’t dump it on those who don’t deserve it. She couldn’t put Malcolm in the middle of her need to tell David to get lost to protect her heart. Pride demanded she do it herself.

“I’ll see Mr. Sumner. Thank you.” Once Malcolm hung up, she slammed down the phone and zipped the hoodie of her navy cashmere Juicy Couture sweat suit so tight around her neck she nearly choked.

Boss or not. Twenty-thousand-dollar date or not, David is not getting in here tonight.

She flung open the door to tell him so.

Directly across the hall, the elevator doors slid slowly open. There he stood, looking more casual than normal, wearing a black leather jacket and with a light scruffy shadow along his square jaw.

Their eyes met and his face became more alive, like some switch had been turned on. His blue eyes blazed and his long mouth curled in a deep dimpled smile. She was reminded of all the lights being turned on along the Magnificent Mile for the holidays, and she felt the same warm, joyous wonder.

Clearly I need another drink from the anger cup.

Crossing the hall in three strides, he held up the two frosty bottles of Cristal he was carrying. “Celebrate with me. I’m going to be a grandfather.”

Determined to be strong, she fought her instant connection to his happiness. “Why little
old
me?” She put every ounce of sarcasm she could muster into her voice. “Your young girlfriend thinks being a grandpa makes you too old for her now?”

Watching the light go out of his face was like a kick straight to her heart. When he took a step back she had to bite her lip not to call out to him.

“I thought you’d understand. After the way I saw you with those little girls.” His voice became firmer. “My mistake. I apologize for bothering you, Rebecca.”

He turned away but not before she glimpsed his face.

I’ve hurt him.
“David, wait!”

He turned back, his face guarded, but he couldn’t hide the emotion in his eyes. “No. You’re right, Rebecca. This was a mistake. It’s late. I’ll see you at the office.”

Determined to control whatever happened if she let him in tonight, she met him halfway in the hall. Without the advantage of her usual stilettos, she had to tilt her head back slightly to watch his expression.

“I’d like you to come in, David. I’m sorry. You caught me off guard. Besides, I can’t bear the thought of wasting these fabulous bottles of champagne.” As always, she tried to defuse the tension with humor.

Solemn, he stared down into her face. She knew these next few moments could change everything.

She put every ounce of her desire for him to stay into her eyes, willing him not to go. She backed to the door and pushed it wide open. “Please come in,” she whispered.

Expressionless, his back stiff, he walked into her condo.

She closed her eyes for an instant in gratitude. Now she didn’t have to hate herself or keep being eaten alive with remorse for her cruelty. She knew that was more baggage than she could handle.

She shut the door. “Please go on into the living room. There are champagne glasses on the library table next to the bookcase. I’ll get the ice bucket and join you.”

She needed the private time in the kitchen to try to understand why David had appeared at her door so late. She tried to tell herself the reason she let him in tonight was because since childhood she’d always taken in strays, feeling an affinity for their loneliness and need for love. My God, she’d even married one, and look how
that
turned out.

Here I am spinning another story. Truth needed here.
David was no stray. He was powerful and sexy. Why did he want to celebrate one of the most important occasions of his life with her? Her need to understand shook her to her core.

The rose-scented candles she’d lit earlier had burned out on the glass coffee table, but their fragrance still hung in the air, and the CD of Patsy Cline’s greatest hits was ending with her plaintive wail of walking after midnight.

David had thrown his leather jacket over the back of the hunter green tweed side chair and opened one bottle of champagne. He stood waiting for her, his blue shirt open at the throat and his dark hair wavy, like he’d run his fingers through it.

She placed the ice bucket on the table and he handed her a glass of champagne. His eyes were clear and vulnerable. “To a new beginning tonight?”

Afraid to face her feelings, she tried to make it light. “Deal.” She curled up on the couch, burying her bare feet deep into the pillows, and patted the cushion beside her. “Now come here, Grandpa, and tell me all about it.”

Joy flooded back into David’s face, bringing her a rush of warm pleasure.

He threw himself down beside her in such a natural way, as if they’d shared this couch before and he knew exactly how close to sit. Knew how to snuggle into the plush softness and stuff a small green velvet pillow behind his head for comfort. Anticipation melted through her.

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes bright, yet lazy in a sexy, sleepy kind of way. It was the kind of look that reminded her she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Feeling sexy despite her best intentions, she snuggled down deeper beside him. The tail end of her self- preservation warned her
not
to focus on how it would feel for David to kiss her. She slammed the door on her common sense for the night. It was like the spell he cast that day in the office. She just wanted to wallow in this pool of sensual delight a little while longer.

“So tell me everything,” she said, watching his face only inches away.

“The night of the cook-off I took the jet to the coast for meetings about WBS. I didn’t get any time to see my son Ryan and his wife, Jasmine, in Pasadena until last night.”

He smiled, and she
knew
he was remembering that moment of happiness.

“As soon as I arrived they told me she’s going to have twins in the spring.”

Rebecca sat up straighter. “My God, no wonder you’re so excited. Twins! Double the pleasure.”

“Often double the trouble with Ryan and Michael.” He said it with such love in his voice she got goose bumps. “Your glass is empty, Rebecca. I’ll get more champagne.”

A sense of loss, for his warmth, for
him
next to her on the couch, made her watch him carefully. His almost-swagger. The way his strong hands grasped the ice bucket to carry the champagne back to the coffee table. His slow, confident smile. It all seemed so right for this moment.

Want became desire.
Desire.
Such an important ingredient of survival flavored life in so many delicious ways, she’d learned. Considering who he was, the kind of desire she felt for David needed to be portioned out carefully.

Surely one taste can’t hurt me.

He settled back down and handed her another chilled glass of champagne. They were so close their thighs touched.

She raised her glass. “To the new twins.”

“To the new twins and hoping their mother finds me a more satisfactory grandfather than she does father-in-law.” He blinked as if startled. “I can’t believe I admitted that to you. I haven’t even discussed it with Ryan.”

Rebecca refrained from asking why Jasmine didn’t care for him. A few weeks ago she could have thought of several reasons, and she didn’t even know the dear girl. Tonight she couldn’t think of one.

“Don’t worry about confessing. You’d be surprised what people have told me. Remember, it used to be my job to get people to tell me their deepest, darkest secrets.”

He winced. “Ouch!”

“No. No. I didn’t mean it
that
way.” She didn’t want to think about the
Daily Mail.
She didn’t want to remember she’d once thought of him as the-evil-boss-from-hell. She didn’t want to remember she’d once planned to do whatever it took to get back her job. Tonight she wanted it to be just Rebecca and David, with no expectations. No promises. Just the honesty of the desire beating between them.

She touched his thigh and their eyes met. She shifted closer, reacting to the invitation on his face. “Let’s agree, David. Tonight nothing about the
Daily Mail
will taint the twins’ celebration.”

He laughed. “
Daily Mail
? Never heard of it.” He poured them both another glass of champagne. “You didn’t happen to give any advice to those other poor souls spilling their guts, did you?”

Sipping, she relaxed back onto the pillows. “As a matter of fact, I
love
giving advice. For your information, I wrote an advice column for my college newspaper. ‘Ask Becky.’ I was quite a hit, if I do say so myself.”

He tried to look impressed but his dimple gave him away. “Why didn’t Becky come to Chicago?”

“Becky
did
come to Chicago, eager to share her young wisdom with the world. But, alas, the world wasn’t interested. In Chicago the only advice column that mattered belonged to Ann Landers. So I became Rebecca Covington.”

Forbidden topic.
She drained her champagne glass.

He immediately refilled it. “I’m interested. Can Ask Becky help me win over Jasmine?”

“Luckily for you, Becky still loves to practice giving advice as often as possible. Ask Becky needs to know how you reacted to the delightful twinner news.”

“I took Jasmine’s hand, like this.” David picked up Rebecca’s hand and held it firmly. “And I looked into her eyes, like this.”

My God, his eyes really are the color of priceless sapphires.

“And I said, I’m very happy.” His voice was deep, compelling, and so very sensual.

Why is it so hot in here?

Feeling incredibly flushed, like her skin was burning, she pulled her hand free to unzip her hoodie to the top of her breasts, where the cleavage started, and took another swallow of cold champagne. “Mistake, David. You should have kissed Jasmine’s cheek. Then what happened?”

Really, she was trying to concentrate on his problem, but she found the way his hair fell across his forehead so utterly fascinating, she couldn’t think of anything but running her fingers through it. It looked silky, and at the temples there was the slightest hint of beautiful silver.

“They’re both veterinarians, so we discussed her absence from the clinic they run. And Ryan and I discussed the trust funds I’ll set up for the children.”

“Aha! Another problem. Of course the trust funds are a marvelous idea. But what are you doing for Jasmine? She’s the one who’s going to have morning sickness and swollen feet and gain twenty-five pounds. She needs a little TLC.”