Читать книгу Underfoot - Leanne Banks - Страница 12

AFTER FIRING STEPHANIE and temporarily commandeering his partner’s longtime admin assistant, putting together a skeleton ad and calling in favors to get a cameraman, producer and some actors, Walker dragged himself into his condo.

He heard a ball game blaring from the television and smelled the combined scents of a Dominican cigar and burger and fries.

Everything his uncle Harry wasn’t supposed to be consuming with the exception of alcohol.

Walker felt a headache pound through his skull. He knew why he’d been chosen to provide a place for Uncle Harry after his uncle had spent a couple weeks in a rehab facility following bypass surgery. Uncle Harry trusted Walker. Plus Walker was financially independent and the Gordon family had a sketchy history with finances, banks, taxes and creditors.

He shrugged out of his jacket as he walked through the wooden foyer toward the den. His balding, hard-of-hearing uncle sat in Walker’s favorite chair, holding a cigar in one hand and a beer in the other. A telltale bag advertising a fast-food burger joint lay crumpled on the TV tray beside Harry.

With a sigh, Walker crept behind his uncle and plucked the cigar and beer out of his hands.

“Hey! What are you—” Harry jerked around with an expression of indignation that quickly changed to a cagey grin. “Walker, my boy, I was wondering when you would get here.”

“Obviously should have been sooner,” Walker muttered. “You know you’re not supposed to be smoking and drinking. And why bother with the bypass surgery if you’re going to clog up your veins the second you get out of the hospital?”

“I haven’t had a burger in months,” Harry complained, pressing the remote to lower the TV volume. “I was due.”

“How’d you get this stuff? I can’t believe that home health aide allowed this.”

“Oh, I sent her home early,” Harry said with a dismissive wave. “And you know I’m supposed to take short walks. I chatted with one of the security guards. Real nice guy. I told him I thought I could get him a good deal on a double-wide for his thirty-year-old stepson that refuses to leave his house. He brought me dinner after he got off his shift.”

“Did he bring the beer and cigar?” Walker asked, feeling like a mother and not liking it.

Uncle Harry lifted his mouth in a craggy grin. “I keep a stash handy. Hey, it’s not like they’re Cuban. Cubans are overrated anyway.”

“And the beer?”

“Was under your bed,” Harry said and wagged his head from side to side. “Pretty lame, boy. I would have expected better from you.”

Walker rested his hands on his hips and bit his tongue to keep from laughing. His uncle Harry had shown up for graduations and contributed money at times when he, his mother, sister and brother had been broke.

Of course, nowadays his mother, brother and sister still had times when they provided the giant sucking sound in Walker’s bank account. Or Harry’s. Depending on which one picked up their cell phone first.

“Gimme back my beer and tell me what you did at work today, boy,” Harry said.

“No,” Walker said and took the beer and cigar to the kitchen. He dumped the beer down the drain, stubbed out the cigar and grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. Returning to the den, he twisted the top off one and gave it to his uncle.

Harry made a face, but took a long draw.

“I almost lost a big account today.”

Harry nodded, his gaze turning serious. “Almost means you can still keep it.”

“Yeah,” Walker said. “Bellagio Shoes.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Bellagio. That Tarantino girl who dumped you at that altar in front of God and everybody. Wasn’t she related to those Bellagios?”

“Yeah,” Walker said and took a drink of water, wishing it was bourbon, not because he’d lost Brooke, but because he didn’t want to lose the Bellagio account.

“That’s why I never got married,” Harry said.

“Because you were afraid of being dumped at the altar?”

“No. Because of the Gordon curse,” Harry said. “We stink in the marriage and fatherhood department.”

“I thought it was more of a fatherhood issue. Brooke and I had agreed not to have children.”

Harry snorted. “Talk to your mom if you think it’s just fatherhood. How you gonna keep the account?”

“They like me and trust me. They know I deliver. But they probably think I should have been able to keep my woman under control.” Walker took another draw from his bottle of water. “I need to produce a bang-up commercial fast. If I can pull a few key Bellagio people onto my side, I think I can keep the account. Especially since I’m staying in Atlanta.”

Walker thought of Trina and frowned. He wondered why she had been so reticent with him. He’d enjoyed their friendship before he’d left for France. Trina had been fun to be around. He’d felt as if he could let down his guard with her and everything would be okay. Plus she had assured him that their one-night stand hadn’t meant anything to her. Now, he didn’t know what to think.

“By the way, your phone rang a couple of times, but I didn’t pick up,” Harry said. “Caller ID looked like it may have been your brother.”

“BJ usually calls the house first,” Walker said, wondering if his brother’s latest troubles were financial or personal. “I’ll call him. Enjoy the game, but don’t sneak any more cigars or beer tonight.”

Harry made a face. “Okay,” he conceded. “I won’t tonight.”

Walker walked upstairs to his home office and sank into the leather chair behind his desk. He picked up the phone and dialed the latest number his brother had given him at the same time he opened a desk drawer and pulled out his checkbook. Conversations with BJ almost always involved his checkbook. He didn’t resent it. He was just glad he had the ability. Someone had to make up for his father.

One half of a ring later, he heart his brother’s voice. “Walker?”

“BJ, what’s up?” Walker asked, rubbing his face. “Everything okay?”

“Could be better,” BJ said. “I got a woman pregnant.”

Walker’s stomach clenched.

“Are you sure the baby is yours? You use protection, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but this girl, she seems pretty sure.”

“Girl,” Walker echoed. “Tell me she’s over eighteen,” he said, praying his brother hadn’t knocked up an underage teenager.

“She’s twenty-two,” BJ said and paused. “I think she wants me to marry her.”

Walker closed his eyes and could barely stifle a groan. His younger brother had tried to pull off a lot of crazy ventures over the years—trying to use chicken manure for fuel, pet time-share sales, propelling a chain letter he was certain would yield him a fortune, real estate agent for a Caribbean island that didn’t exist.

Walker had bailed him out with repeated warnings. He and his brother parted ways on many things, but one area on which they’d always agreed had been the subject of fathering. Don’t just say no. Say never.

“Walker, I know we always said we wouldn’t have any children, but I gotta tell you I want to be a good father for this baby. I want to be a husband for Danielle. I never thought I would say it, but I want to be a family man.”

For how long? Walker wondered. In all the time Walker had known his brother, BJ had exhibited the staying power of a fly. “BJ, this isn’t another business investment you can dump and move on to another one. This is a human being. A person. Do you really want to take on that responsibility? And this girl? Do you love her enough to stick with her and try to get a real job and earn a real living?”

“I know the baby’s a human being, and yeah, I do love Danielle. I have for a while now. I just didn’t want to tell you. I can tell you don’t believe in me. Can’t say I blame you.”

“I didn’t say I don’t believe in you,” Walker replied. “I’ve always said you had great potential.”

“And you’ve always gotten me out of trouble. You know I can be a hard worker, though,” BJ said.

“Yeah,” Walker admitted. Hard, just not all that focused.

“So, Danielle and I think it would be better for us to move to Atlanta. I’d like to go to work for you, big brother. It’s always been my dream.”

Alarm shot through him. Despite the Bellagio principle of having all those relatives work for the same organization, he’d always firmly believed that family working for family was not a good idea. In fact, it was a horrible idea.

“I can do it,” BJ continued. “I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll run errands. I’ll answer the phone. I’ll help you sell advertising. Just give me a chance.”

Walker cleared his throat. “I’m not sure you would be happy in the advertising field, BJ. You have a lot of entrepreneurial spirit. That’s great, but sometimes it makes it hard to take orders from someone else.”

“Walker, I need to make a fresh start if I’m going to make this work. I need your help like I’ve never needed it before. I gotta grow up and be somebody else’s daddy.”

THE NEXT MORNING, Trina’s supervisor, Ben Ferguson, invited her into his office and closed the door behind him. First clue that something unusual was up.

He sat across from Trina and looked at her for a moment. She returned his glance calmly, although her stomach twisted.

“There are some changes in the works. I need to know if you want my job.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“If I were to move up, are you sure you want my job?”

“Of course I do,” she said. “I’ve always wanted your job.”

He laughed. “That’s what I like about you, Trina. You want my job, but you don’t stab me in the back to get it. You help me get promoted instead.”

She smiled. “What I like about you is that you realize I’m trying to help you.”

“You’ve made me look good. Good enough that I’m filling in for Anthony Tarantino’s VP spot this summer. He’s talking about retiring.”

“That’s great,” she said. “You’ve got to be pleased.”

“I am,” he said. “But I’m going to be in a limbo phase where I’m filling in for Anthony at the same time I’m still acting PR supervisor. If you’re really sure you want my position, then I need you to step up now.”

“I always have.”

“I hesitate to mention this, but you’ve had a baby and you’re a single parent. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Absolutely not,” Trina said, although she felt the slightest twist of uncertainty. “Women have been successfully multitasking for ages. Have you noticed a dip in my performance?”

“No. You’ve been late a few times and had to skip out early for a few doctor appointments, but you’ve always come through when Bellagio needed you.”

“Thank you for noticing,” she said.

Ben gave her another considering glance. “Okay. First order of business is Walker Gordon.”

Trina’s heart leapt. “You want me to fire him?”

Ben laughed. “Hell, no. The board is still partial to him even after the Brooke fiasco. There’s a point person assigned to him from marketing and we need a point person from PR. That would be you.”

She swallowed a gasp. “I thought he still needed to present a commercial before the board approved him.”

Ben shrugged. “Yeah. It better be a decent commercial. But when has Walker done anything that wasn’t stellar? As long as Bellagio has his personal attention and he’s got his game going, we’re going to go with him this time. Marc Waterson himself told me.”

She swallowed seven swear words. How was she supposed to work with Walker? If he was going to stay in Atlanta, she was going to have to tell him about Maddie.

Her expression must have revealed her lack of enthusiasm. “You don’t look happy about it. I always got the impression that you and Walker got along well.”

“We did,” she said without much conviction.

Ben wrinkled his brow. “Has something happened that I need to know—”

“Oh, no,” she said quickly, her heart racing at the lie. She prayed the color of her cheeks didn’t betray her. “I, uh—” She cleared her throat and gave a tight smile as she manufactured a reason for her response. “I just thought Bellagio would benefit from a fresh point of view. In terms of advertising.”

Ben relaxed. “I see your point, but you gotta admit Walker has always done a good job for us. So we’ll see how he handles the next campaign. And of course since you’re the point person, it will be your job to make sure it’s a success,” Ben half joked, pausing when she remained silent.

“If you think it’s going to be too much, we could turn it over to Dora.”

“Oh, no,” Trina said, feeling protective of her job, her future, her baby’s future. “I’m up for it.”

“Just because I’ll be upstairs doesn’t mean you can’t call me for anything,” he assured her.

“Thanks and congratulations,” she said, rising to her feet.

“Yeah.” He stood, too. “Don’t spread it around. Nothing’s official yet.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later,” Trina said and left his office, her mind whirling. This was the promotion she had been working for since she’d started at Bellagio. She’d called in favors from old schoolmates to get exposure for Bellagio. She’d worked late and sacrificed. Finally, it was within sight. The promotion was more important than ever to her now that she was in charge of Maddie’s welfare. Trina knew she could do the job. She also knew she would need support. Someone who could do her grocery shopping, occasionally prepare meals and take care of Maddie when Trina needed to work late. Her stomach twisted at that last possibility, but she didn’t dwell on it.

Walking into her office, she opened a file on her computer and made notes about requirements for the position she needed. She sucked down a cup of coffee and called Bride Magazine to confirm a mention of Bellagio shoes in the June issue. It took some extra delving, but she learned the shoe size for the fashion editor at a top women’s magazine and arranged to send her pair of Bellagio sandals.

Grabbing a Diet Coke, she started to dial marketing when her phone rang. “Trina Roberts, hello.”

One beat of silence followed. “Trina, it’s Walker.”

Her throat tightened and she took a breath to help her relax. “Walker, hello.”

“I just talked to Ben and he told me you’re going to be one of my go-to people.”

“That’s what I hear,” she said with forced cheerfulness. “What can I do for you?”

“I thought it would be good to touch base with you about the commercial and my ideas. Is a drink after work okay?”

“Let me check my schedule and I’ll get right back to you. It might be easier for me if we meet at the office earlier in the afternoon.”

“I’m stuck all day shooting this commercial.”

“Okay, then let me call you back.” She hung up, hating the fact that her hands shook. She was going to have to get hold of herself. Reviewing her options, she called Jenny Prillaman.

“Hey, girl,” Jenny said with a smile in her voice. “How’s your gorgeous baby?”

“Gorgeous and growing,” Trina said. “You offered to keep her every now and then. Any chance you could keep her for a little while this evening?”

“Oooh, hot date?” Jenny asked.

“Business.”

“Oh,” Jenny said in a disappointed tone. “I wish I could, but the wedding machine is in high gear and Marc and I have a meeting with the minister tonight.”

“That’s okay. No problem,” Trina said.

“But you have to promise that you’ll ask me again,” Jenny said.

“I promise,” Trina said, thinking Jenny had to be one of the sweetest people in the world. “But since you’re getting married soon, you may be starting on your own babies.”

“One thing at a time. Call me soon.”

“Sure thing,” Trina said and dialed the number of another friend who already had plans.

She winced as she regretfully dialed her last choice. “Mom, it’s Trina.”

“Hello, dear. I’m playing bridge.”

“Okay, I’ll keep it quick. Any chance you could pick up Maddie tonight and keep her for a little while?”

“Yes. Do you have a date?”

“No, business.”

“Oh,” her mother said, her voice full of disappointment. “I wish you would start—”

“Thanks so much, Mom. I shouldn’t be long. Just pick her up at the company day care. Kill ’em at bridge,” she said and hung up.

After work, Trina stopped by a salon close to the office and got a shampoo and blow-dry. With every sweep of the round brush, she rehearsed how to tell Walker about Maddie.

I had a baby six months ago. You’re the father.

I don’t expect anything from you.

I don’t want anything from you.

I don’t know why the contraception didn’t work. Perhaps because we were both plowed.

Why didn’t you tell me before? he would ask.

I just kinda never got around to it.

Trina rolled her eyes at herself. Lame, lame, lame. She glanced at her fingernails and wished she had time for a manicure. With Maddie-girl, she was always washing her hands after changing a diaper or before feeding or after cleaning carrots off Maddie’s face.

She was glad she’d worn black today. It made her feel less vulnerable. Exactly how was a woman supposed to dress when she told a man that she’d had his baby?

She swallowed over the bubble of panic in the back of her throat.

What could he do to her? she asked herself, trying to approach the situation rationally. He couldn’t accuse her of trying to trap him into marriage. He couldn’t accuse her of trapping him into being a real father to Maddie because she had resolved a long time ago to ask and expect nothing of him.

What if he didn’t believe her?

She clenched her jaw. That bothered her. That really bothered her.

It probably wouldn’t happen, she assured herself as she left the salon and ducked into a drugstore to pick up a compact, lipstick and mascara. She applied the cosmetics in her car, feeling as if she were putting on an extra layer of armor.

She possessed the edge here, she told herself as she walked into the bar. She had the knowledge and she had Maddie. That last thought warmed her like sunshine.

She glanced around the bar and didn’t see Walker. A cowardly sliver of relief ran through her. Oh, good, he was a no-show.

“You beat me by seconds,” a familiar male voice said from behind her.

She whispered a swear word, but managed to turn around with a smile. “I wondered if we might need to reschedule.”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” He gestured toward a table across the room and waved at the bartender for service.

She felt his hand hover at her back and automatically quickened her pace.

He pulled out her chair for her. “Busy day?”

“The usual,” she said, taking her seat and thinking she didn’t remember him being so tall.

He sat across from her. She didn’t remember his shoulders being quite so wide. She did remember the intensity in his eyes, his mouth, and the way he had kissed her that night. Frustration had mixed with some kind of carnal wanting. She’d felt the same way, frustrated from the insane almost-wedding day and curious to find out how he would handle a woman. How he would handle her. He must have felt some curiosity, too. The first time had been fast, but there had been a second. And a third.

Trina felt a rush of heat. The sensation reminded her of how two glasses of wine affected her, the warmth that spread from her chest to her face and the way her heartbeat accelerated. It was the memory of wild sex, she told herself. It wasn’t specifically Walker.

A waiter approached their table. “I’ll take a beer. Whatever you have on tap,” Walker said and turned to her. “What do you like? Martini?” he asked and looked at her for a long moment. “No, it was something else,” he said, shaking his head with a wry grin. “Mojito.”

The fact that he’d remembered her drink gave her a thrill. A very stupid thrill, she told herself. “It’s different now. I’ve turned into a lightweight. Pinot Grigio,” she said to the waiter.

“Lightweight,” Walker echoed curiously. “When did that happen?”

“A while ago,” she said with a shrug and wished she had a glass so she could do something with her hands. Should she tell him before the waiter returned or after?

He nodded. “Okay. So what have you been doing for the last year and a half?”

Having a baby. Not quite right, she thought, looking away from his expectant gaze. “Working, moving. How was Paris?” she asked, turning the conversation away from her.

“Good.”

The waiter returned with their drinks and she fiddled with the stem of her wineglass. “Hard to come back?”

“Yes and no. It was time and I didn’t want to lose Bellagio.”

She lifted her glass to her lips. “It’s just another account, isn’t it? With the bonus of public humiliation and a few bad memories.”

He paused a half beat and studied her carefully. “I could almost think you didn’t want me around,” he said in a silky but cold voice.

“Of course not,” she said, forcing the words from her throat. “Everyone knows you’re great at what you do. I just thought you might prefer to avoid the discomfort.”

“I did that,” he said and took a long draw from his beer. “The marriage to Brooke didn’t work out and that was for the best, but I’m not losing Bellagio over a failed engagement.”

Trina’s stomach sank at the steel in his tone. She couldn’t imagine how he would respond to her announcement that he was the father of her baby.

“Speaking of Bellagio, I wanted to show you some of the models I’m using for the commercial.” He reached into his pocket for his PalmPilot and turned it on. He pushed some buttons and handed it to her. “What do you think?”

She looked at the headshot of a toothy blonde. “Pretty,” she said. “But we’re not going for perfect,” she added. “We’re going for Ms. And Mr. Everyday who can clean up nicely.”

He nodded. “Don’t want to be intimidating.”

“Right,” she said and took a sip of her wine, mentally girding herself. “There have been some changes. I need to talk about them with you.”

He leaned closer. “At Bellagio,” he said.

She moved her head in a circle. “More with me, and it’s something you should know. I, uh. We, uh—”

“Walker Gordon, when did you get back in town?” a woman’s flirty Southern drawl oozed from a few steps away.

Trina glanced at her perfectly groomed and coiffed former classmate, Blair Smythe Manning Davis, twice divorced.

“Blair—” he said, obviously searching for her last name as he stood.

She beamed, her porcelain veneers gleaming as white as chalk. “You remembered me. The last time we met we were both committed, but you’re single now and so am I.” She shot a quick dismissing glance in Trina’s direction. “It’s been so long since you and I have seen each other, Walker. Would you mind if I join you? Or am I interrupting something important?” she asked as an afterthought.

Walker looked at Trina. “We’re discussing business.”

Blair made a clucking sound and tapped her diamond-encrusted watch. “It’s way past five o’clock. Quitting time,” she said and pulled a chair from another table.

Walker helped Blair with the chair. She smiled at him as she sat down then glanced again at Trina. “Hello, I’m Blair—”

“Davis,” Trina finished because she couldn’t resist.

Blair blinked and she studied Trina.

“Trina Roberts,” she said, rescuing the woman. “You and I went to the same girls’ school.”

“Oh,” Blair said and gave a hesitant smile. “I’ll have to look you up in my yearbook.”

“I’ve let my hair grow and I was a couple years behind you,” Trina couldn’t resist adding, noticing that Blair looked razor thin and had a man-eater look in her eyes. Her hair was highlighted platinum and her skin faux-tanned just this side of oompha-loompha. Two husbands down, ready for number three. She wondered if blood dripped from Blair’s incisors at night.

“Really?” Blair said in disbelief and gave a forced laugh. “I’ll definitely have to dig out my yearbook. But enough about me. Walker, make my dream come true and tell me you’re back in town for good?”

He shot a look of discomfort toward Trina and cleared his throat. “I’m back for good.”

“That’s great. The Walthams are hosting a party this weekend. You absolutely must come with me.”

“I’m still settling in,” he said.

She gave an exaggerated pout. “You can do that anytime. I just want to borrow you on Saturday night. For starters, anyway,” she added with a seductive glint in her eye.

And so it went for twenty more minutes while Trina nursed her little glass of wine and contributed eleven nods and eight uh-huhs. The ball of apprehension in her chest turned to irritation in her stomach.

Tonight was clearly not the night that she would tell Walker about Maddie. She glanced at her watch and was forced to interrupt Blair’s latest combination of gossip and flirting. “Excuse me. I hate to say this, but I have some other plans this evening, so I need to leave.”

She stood and Walker rose to his feet. “Let me walk you to your car.”

“Not necessary. I can find it on my own.”

“I need to cover a couple more things with you,” he said, frustration edging into his tone.

“Let’s try meeting at my office. Give me a call in the morning.”

“I’ll still walk you out.”

“What a gentleman,” Blair said. “Let him walk you out and he can come back and chat with me.”

Trina gave a tight smile. “Okay. It was great seeing you Blair. You look more amazing than ever.”

“Thank you. What a sweetie you are.”

Trina headed out of the bar, feeling Walker catch up to her in just a few strides.

“Were you really going to leave me with her?” he asked.

“Hey, she’s a great contact. She knows everyone and talks about them, too.”

He adjusted his tie. “I didn’t know you went to school with her crowd.”

“I may have gone to school with her, but that doesn’t mean we were friends,” she said, approaching her car and wondering if Walker would notice the infant safety seat in her car. At least she’d remembered to put the top up on her convertible.

She knew, however, that Walker could be very observant. Her edginess ratcheted up another notch. Not wanting to tell him he was a father in the parking lot of a bar, she quickly stepped in front of him. “Sorry I could only give you a brief reprieve from Blair. She’s beautiful and well connected, though.”

“And pushy as hell,” he said and swore. “This didn’t turn out the way I planned.”

She smiled. “It happens that way sometimes.”

“I’ll call you in the morning,” he said and she felt his gaze fall over her in some kind of combination that included masculine scrutiny.

She resisted the urge to suck in her abdomen. “Fine,” she said, backing toward her car.

“We’ll get together tomorrow.”

“No problem,” she said, fighting the jumpiness in her belly at the determined expression on his face.

He nodded. “It’s good to see you again, Trina. I’ve missed talking to you. I always felt like I could level with you.”

“Mmm,” she said with a nod and lifted her hand. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

Walking the rest of the way to her car, she got inside and tossed her purse on the passenger seat. She started the engine and drove out of the parking lot. In her rearview window, she saw Walker still watching her.