Читать книгу Underfoot - Leanne Banks - Страница 11

AS SOON AS HE ANNOUNCED himself as the point man, that he wouldn’t be returning to Paris, Walker felt the level of tension in the room drop at least sixty percent. The knowledge boosted his confidence and would ultimately boost earnings for his company.

Brooke Tarantino might have dumped him at the altar on live television. She might have stomped his ego into the ground and made him look like a joke. She might have succeeded in motivating him to leave Atlanta in order to get his mojo back.

But Walker was hell-bent and determined on keeping the Bellagio account. He’d nurtured this account from the beginning and it was growing bigger every year. Atlanta would burn again before he would let another agency raid his account and take the spoils.

“That’s good to know,” Alfredo Bellagio said. “So you’ll give us some more ads on Friday and we’ll think some more.”

Walker nodded, feeling a shot of adrenaline. He would need to hustle to pull it together, but he could do it. He’d done it before. Everyone in the room stood, taking Alfredo’s words as a signal that the meeting was adjourned.

Walker shook hands with Alfredo and one of the VPs sitting next to him. He caught sight of Trina Roberts moving toward the door and he remembered that one hot night….

Her gaze slid away from his. Curious, he thought. They’d parted on good terms. It had been a one-night stand. Damn good one from what he could remember. Unfortunately he couldn’t remember much because he’d been loaded.

He sure didn’t want awkwardness between them now. Not now when he needed every Bellagio insider backing him. He made a mental list of who he should contact personally. Marc Waterson would be inclined to back him. After all, his fiancée, Jenny Prillaman, had been fired as a result of the Brooke wedding debacle. Fortunately she’d been rehired. He made another mental note to contact the marketing VP.

And Trina, he thought. He may as well catch her in her office now. Turning to the assistant that had been assigned to him, he motioned toward the presentation materials. “Please go ahead and pack everything up, Stephanie. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

He left the conference room and made his way toward Trina’s office, waving at people he hadn’t seen in over a year. With a nonchalance no longer feigned, he’d prepared himself for discomfort, pity, even lame jokes. A year away from Brooke Tarantino had cured him. Hell, a month away from her had cured him.

Truth was, Brooke hadn’t crushed his heart. She’d just blasted his ego and temporarily disrupted some of his business plans. After a year spent developing the European market and enjoying the attention of more than one creative, attentive mademoiselle, he was as good as new.

He punched the elevator button and nodded at the receptionist. “How’s it going, Thelma? I meant to ask, are your kids doing okay?”

The woman blinked. “Oh. I wouldn’t have expected you to remember. It’s been a long time since you’ve been—” She broke off and cleared her throat as if she didn’t know what to say.

“And a lot has happened. All water under the bridge, now,” he said cheerfully. “And your kids?”

“Good,” she said, clearly relieved. “Benjamin is playing Little League this year.”

He shook his head. “They grow so fast. It seems like just yesterday you were talking about his first steps.”

“You’re so right,” she said as the elevator door slid open. “You have a good day. It’s good to see you again, Mr. Gordon.”

“Walker,” he corrected. “You’ll be seeing me a lot more often now.” He took the elevator down two floors and headed for the PR suite of offices.

A dark-haired woman sitting at the receptionist’s desk gave him a thorough once-over and smiled. “How can I help you?”

Her voice oozed invitation. He smiled in return. “I just wanted to speak to Trina Roberts for a minute. Is she in her office?”

“Sure. She just returned from a meeting. You can go on in…Mr.…?”

“Gordon. Walker Gordon.” He saw the moment the woman registered who he was.

“Oh, Brooke’s—” She covered her mouth in horror.

“No problem. That’s ancient history,” he said, and headed for Trina’s office. The door was open. She was standing in front of the window, gazing outside as if she were lost in thought. Her hair was longer than he remembered, darker blond. The style was more casual. He remembered Trina as chicly manicured from her head to her toenails. She filled out the suit she was wearing differently. She’d been model slim the last time he’d seen her.

He watched her bite her lip and wondered what else was different. “Hey. Better not let Ben see you staring out the window on company time,” he joked.

She jerked around and gaped at him, her chocolate-brown eyes wide with surprise. Almost shock. “Um, hi. What are you doing here?”

“Good to see you, too,” he said and laughed.

“Sorry,” she said, pushing her hair behind her ear and moving toward her desk. “How was Paris?”

“Healing,” he said. “But I’m ready to be back. I’d like to know you’re on my side with keeping the Bellagio account. Can we get together for dinner tonight? Tomorrow night?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

She refused him so quickly he blinked. “Hmm.” He picked up her left hand. “I don’t see signs of engagement or marriage.”

“I have other commitments. Sorry.” She shot him a quick glance. “Looks like things are going well for you.”

“Except I’m going to need a new assistant,” he said, referring to the gaffe during the presentation.

“Not a bad idea,” she said with a smile and glanced at her watch. “I wish I could talk, but my schedule’s packed today.”

“Okay,” he said, wondering at her lack of friendliness. “You’re not upset about that night we—”

“No,” she said before he could finish. “It was just one of those strange things that happen. Like a meteor dropping in the desert. Or an airplane dropping frozen water on a house.”

He wrinkled his brow at the comparisons she chose for the night they’d spent together. He wasn’t sure he liked the second one. “I don’t really remember that much about—”

“Neither do I because we were both smashed. So there’s really no need to discuss it.”

He nodded. “I hope it won’t affect our working relationship.”

“If we work together, I’m sure it won’t be a problem. Long time ago.”

“We will be working together,” Walker said, determined to remove any doubt. “I’ll do what it takes to keep the Bellagio account.”

She didn’t jump for joy at his words, making him wonder. Trina had always been friendly toward him. Not seductive, but nice. Why the change?

“You do want me for this account, don’t you?”

“I want the very best for Bellagio,” she said. “How can we be sure you won’t head back to France?”

“Because I said I’m staying here. It’s not just for business reasons,” he told her. “My uncle just had heart surgery. He needs someone to live with while he recovers. I’ve been elected.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Wow. I never saw you as the nurturing type.”

“I’m not,” he said. “But this is different. He showed up for my graduations, gave my sister and brother and me money every now and then. He didn’t ever have any kids of his own, but he kept an eye on us after my father cut and ran.”

“Gordon curse,” she murmured.

“What?”

“Oh, it was something you mentioned about why you didn’t want to have children. Some sort of curse, long line of fathers…”

“Yeah,” he said, surprised that she recalled. “I didn’t remember telling you that. I don’t talk about my father much.”

She shrugged. “It was a very strange night.” She glanced at her watch again. “I need to run. I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“Same,” he said. “I’ll be seeing you soon and often.”

“Take care,” she said and slid into her chair, opening her laptop.

TRINA WATCHED the very fine backside of Walker as he left her office, and told herself to breathe. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of her baby daughter Maddie’s picture and held it in her lap. Her fingers began to tremble.

She hadn’t counted on him returning to Atlanta, let alone to Bellagio. Walker had plenty of accounts. He didn’t need Bellagio. And why put himself in a position where he had to respond to gossip and bad jokes about his failed wedding?

But she hadn’t counted on his pride. Trina had convinced herself that she wouldn’t meet him face-to-face again until she was on her death bed, or at least until Maddie, her daughter, graduated from high school.

She swore under her breath.

Dora burst through her doorway. “That was Walker Gordon. He’s so hot. Why did Brooke dump him?”

Trina’s hands continued to shake and she closed them around each other over the photo in her lap. “I couldn’t say,” she managed.

“But he seems like he’s so over her.” Dora twirled her finger around her hair. “You worked with him before. What do you know about him? He obviously works out. Do you know which club he belongs to? Where does he hang out?”

Trina stared at Dora in exasperation. “How would I know? He’s been hanging out in Paris for the last year.”

“Chill out. I was just asking. I’m single. He’s single. I wouldn’t mind a chance to help rebuild his—” She paused and smiled like a female devil. “Ego.”

“I don’t think his ego needs rebuilding,” Trina muttered.

“Oh really?” Dora asked, her face lighting up. “What makes you say that? Did he say anything about me? He gave me the look, you know, like he liked what he saw.”

“I’m sure he did,” Trina said, hoping her agreement would shoo Dora away. “You’re a pretty girl.”

Dora gave a coy smile. “Well, what a sweet thing to say. Thank you,” she drawled. “I’m so lucky I’ve never had a weight problem. I can eat anything I want.”

Before she’d gotten pregnant, Trina had been able to eat anything she wanted. Not so now. She gritted her teeth and smiled.

“You know, if you would lose ten pounds and cut your hair, I bet you would get out a lot more.”

“I don’t really want to get out a lot more right now,” Trina said.

Dora appeared not to have heard her. “I’m not sure you could get Walker’s attention but—”

Trina blinked at the insult. She should have seen it coming. The way Dora pulled a knife out in her sweetest tone reminded Trina of her mother. She took a deep breath. “Dora, trust me. I couldn’t be less interested in getting Walker Gordon’s attention.”

Dora fell silent and stared at Trina for a long moment. She narrowed her eyes. “You know something. What’s wrong with him?”

Gross miscalculation to reassure Dora of her lack of interest in Walker. Her second or third miscalculation of the day.

Trina spent the rest of the day unsuccessfully dodging Dora’s questions.

“Does he have a mental condition? Is he a secret sicko?” Dora asked an hour later.

“Not to my knowledge,” Trina said and left for a meeting.

When she returned, Dora followed her into her office. “Is he emotionally or physically abusive?”

“No,” Trina said in horror. “At least, I haven’t heard that he is.”

Dora sighed in obvious frustration. “Then maybe it’s something super personal.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Does he have a forked—” She stopped. “You know. Down there?”

“A forked wha—” She broke off as realization hit. “Absolutely not,” she said, then quickly added, “Not from what I’ve heard.”

Dora frowned. “Then why don’t you want him? He’s gorgeous. He’s loaded. He’s smart.”

“It’s probably hormonal,” Trina manufactured. “Since I had Maddie, I’m not interested in anyone. I’m much more interested in a good night’s sleep.”

“Oh,” Dora said with a nod of sympathy. “And that’s probably why you’ve let yourself go.”

Trina blinked. She should have seen that insult coming. Counting to ten, she gritted her teeth. “How kind of you to notice.”

Dora’s eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just obvious you’re not putting a lot of effort into your appearance. I could help you if you’d like.”

“That’s okay, Dora. What I’d like is for you to print the press releases for Jenny Prillaman’s new designs along with the accompanying letters. I’d like to give them a quick once-over before they’re sent out. Thanks,” she said in a dismissive tone.

Trina took her quick lunch break at the company day-care center. Due to a bumper crop of pregnancies and babies, Bellagio had joined with another company close by to provide service for the children of their employees.

After going through three nannies, Trina had brought Maddie to the day-care center with a few reservations. She preferred one-on-one care for her daughter and also worried about infections, but she loved the proximity and the convenience of visiting Maddie when she could squeeze in a break during her workday.

She walked into the room for babies where her six-month-old daughter was being fed oatmeal by an assistant teacher. “How has she been today?”

“Sweet, but active. I think she may be an early crawler. Good luck,” the teacher said with a rueful smile.

Just then, Maddie glanced up and caught sight of Trina. She let out an earsplitting shriek and banged her fists on her high chair.

“Looks like she’s happy to see you,” the teacher said.

A thrill shot through Trina. Her child’s adoration for her never failed to give her heart a squeeze. “How’s my little carrot cake?”

Maddie gave a wide oatmeal-lined smile and Trina walked over to take over the feeding duty. She brushed a kiss over her daughter’s soft head where her carrot-red topknot tilted to the right.

“And how has your day been?” Trina asked Maddie as she lifted the spoon to her daughter’s rosebud mouth.

Maddie swallowed the oatmeal and made a gurgling sound and other sounds in an unintelligible language as if she were making conversation.

“Gramma Aubrey would not approve of talking with your mouth full, but we’ll wait on that one. Okay?” Trina said with a nod.

Maddie nodded and opened her mouth for another bite. Trina finished feeding Maddie then cleaned her face and hands despite her baby’s protests.

After changing her diaper, Trina carried Maddie to a rocking chair in a quiet corner of the room and began to rock. After a morning that had shaken every nerve in her body, the weight of her little daughter in her arms felt so reassuring.

As Maddie relaxed, Trina felt her own heart rate and her breathing slow. The muscles in the back of her neck loosened. She would have never predicted it, but in her arms, Trina felt as if she were holding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

When she’d first learned she was pregnant, she’d panicked and considered terminating the pregnancy. She wasn’t in a position to be a mother. Her apartment was too small. She didn’t have a husband. Plus she had a mother who would die if her daughter became an unwed mother. Aside from that, Trina had plans that didn’t include children until, if, or when she should get married. And there was the fact that Trina had no mommy skills. Heck, she hadn’t even done much babysitting during her teen years. What did people do with babies anyway? They seemed like little savages that cried and peed and cried and pooped and cried and ate and cried some more.

So the obvious choice had been to call the doctor to do the deed and not be pregnant anymore. She’d made a mental note to call the doctor to make an appointment tomorrow, but she’d been too busy that day. And the next tomorrow, she’d felt creepy about calling, which was hormonal, she was certain. So she told herself she would call when she didn’t feel creepy about it, when she felt confident and sure and had no regrets.

That tomorrow had never arrived.

She’d hid her pregnancy reasonably well until her sixth month when her abdomen had sprouted outward. She’d avoided face-to-face contact with her mother by claiming business was taking her out of town. Lord knew, her mother could smell weight gain of anything over a pound.

People at work had reacted with surprise and curiosity. Trina had reacted as if it were perfectly normal for her to be pregnant. Pretty soon, the questions died down.

Her mother, however, had gone into a hysterical frenzy that had required heavy doses of sedatives. She’d locked herself in her bedroom for a solid week.

Trina had secretly hoped she would stay locked up longer, say a year. Or two.

Trina glanced down at Maddie, asleep on her lap. Her dark eyelashes stood out against her fair complexion. Trina had fallen in love with her daughter at first sight. What she didn’t know about child rearing could fill a library, but she understood a few things about what her daughter needed. Love, food, sunshine, a bath, sleep and her mother.

Trina figured she would learn what she needed to know along the way. Lifting Maddie against her chest, she carried her to the crib marked with her name and laid her down, her heart full at the sight of her baby.

Waving to the teachers, she left to return to her office.

DESPITE TRINA’S BEST EFFORTS, Dora continued her inquisition about Walker throughout the afternoon. Every mention of his name shredded her nerves even more. Bamboo sticks under her fingernails or water torture would have been easier to bear.

Promising herself she would buy Lean Cuisine the next time she got to the grocery store, Trina picked up Maddie and grabbed a take-out sandwich through a drive-thru while Maddie sang in her car seat in the back seat.

Before she arrived at her town house, she smelled a distinctive scent that told her the first thing she would be doing when she got inside would be changing Maddie’s diaper.

Grabbing Maddie’s bag and her carryout sandwich, she walked inside, dumped both bags in the foyer and immediately headed for the nursery.

Just as she put on a fresh diaper, the doorbell rang three times. Trina paused. The doorbell rang again, this time five times and Trina tensed. Her mother.

“Please tell me I still have some wine in the fridge,” she said to Maddie.

Maddie gave an unintelligible but sympathetic sounding response.

“Carter-Aubrey?” her mother called from the now open doorway. “Carter-Aubrey, are you there?”

Trina groaned. Her mother refused to call her by her preferred middle name. The other two just did not fit her at all. “I’m here, Mother,” she called from the top of the stairs.

“Thank God you’re okay,” said Aubrey Carter-Elizabeth with a perfect hairstyle, dyed perfectly auburn. She wore a perfect size-four suit and sported a perfect manicure. “I looked at the mess in this foyer and was afraid your house had been looted.”

“Just needed to make a quick diaper change,” she said. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, look at her. She’s a mess. Nanna Aubrey will get you shiny clean in no time,” she said, reaching for her granddaughter. She glanced down at the fast-food bag on the floor. “Dear, you really need to eat better food. You’ll never lose your baby weight if you keep eating that stuff.”

“Thanks for the encouragement, Mother,” Trina said with a heavy trace of sarcasm.

“I’m just looking out for your best interest. Someday you may meet the right man who will be a good father for our little Madeline and you want to be ready.”

Meaning Trina clearly wasn’t ready today.

Her mother studied her suit jacket. “What is that?” she asked, scraping her fingernail over the sleeve.

Trina glanced down and shrugged. “Oatmeal? Applesauce? I dunno. I don’t have anything to offer you except baby food and half my sandwich. Are you interested?”

“No, thank you,” her mother said, wrinkling her nose. “I just came over to see Madeline and drop off the application for the Ambrose school for girls. You probably should have signed her up the day she was born. They have a very long waiting list. It’s so competitive to get in, but since you, your grandmother and I graduated from Ambrose, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Trina felt her stomach twist as she led the way into her kitchen. “I haven’t decided if Ambrose is the best place for Maddie. I’m looking into the Montessori school.”

Aubrey gasped. “Not there. Oh, darling, there’s hardly any structure, no uniforms and she’ll never meet the right people.”

Trina bit her tongue and lifted her fingers into a peace sign, the sign she used to tell her mother she was overstepping her bounds. Again.

Aubrey dropped her mouth. “Oh, you can’t think I’m interfering by merely bringing over an application. And speaking to Owen Randall in admissions,” she added.

Trina continued to hold her peace sign.

Audrey sighed. “May I give her a bath?”

“She’ll love it.”

Aubrey beamed at Madeline. “She’s as beautiful a baby as you were. You did well.” She tossed Trina a sideways glance. “Although it would have been nice if you’d at least married her father.”

“Life’s not perfect,” Trina said. “You should know. And remember our agreement about the discussion of that subject.” If Aubrey didn’t bring up the subject of Maddie’s father or Trina’s love-life disaster when she’d been nineteen, then Trina had agreed not to bring up the subject of her father or the fact that he’d died due to an automobile accident when he’d been arguing with her mother.

Her mother sighed because her life wasn’t going as planned, either. Aubrey was determined to hang on to the family home despite the fact that she didn’t have nearly enough money for the upkeep. Her mother had married her father for his nouveau riche money. Her father had married her mother for her name, which provided him, an outsider, a way into Atlanta’s upper class. Unfortunately her father had lost most of the money in court, suing over principle. After years spent in court, he’d lost his fight and died a month later, leaving her mother with bills.

Trina had long encouraged her mother to sell the estate to someone who could afford to refurbish it, but her mother, who had apparently watched Gone with the Wind way too many times, had cast herself in the role of Scarlett, determined to hang on to the family land.

Too much melodrama for Trina. She was happy with her condo, Jacuzzi bathtub, and loved the fact that her community association fees covered all the lawn work.

“You want to feed her, too?” Trina asked gently.

Her mother nodded.

“Fine. I’ll get an apron for you.”