Читать книгу The One That I Want - Michelle Monkou - Страница 10
ОглавлениеDresden Haynes stepped in from the biting, wintry mix into the cozy warmth of his parents’ home. Instead of the customary deluge of holiday decorations to usher in Christmas, the first floor was an exhibition of widespread chaos. For the first time in a while, he wouldn’t spend the holidays with his parents. This time he’d stay in Toronto while his parents, Patrick and Charlotte, no-longer-retired globe-trekkers, soon would be off to Kazakhstan as engineering consultants for a three-year stint on a water treatment contract.
This latest nudge to rock his routine off-kilter was one of many this year. All of it, especially a surprise meet-up with some members of his birth family and now the lengthy absence of his adoptive family, was out of his comfort zone.
Frenzied sounds of his parents’ preparations hit him in intermittent bursts. Overhead his father’s frustrations verbally punctuated the air just before loud, dull thuds and dragging sounds scraped against the ceiling. An assortment of suitcases blocked access to the staircase. Meanwhile, brown boxes outlined a path toward the kitchen, where he saw his mother with her sleeves rolled up.
Taking careful steps, he navigated his way through the foyer, around the assortment of boxes and down the hallway. Her determined expression remained rigid as she looked up at an awful abstract painting above the pantry door. He bit back the smile over her loud, dramatic sighs that floated toward him.
“Bought it at a yard sale. I think you should take it.” Charlotte shifted her attention as he approached to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.
“Let the new renters enjoy it.” Dresden failed to hide his shudder at the hideous collision of colors that masqueraded as art.
“You could move in until we return.”
“Nope. I like my place just fine.” His parents had chosen the suburbs, but he liked downtown Toronto with its beehive busyness. “And you know that my commute is closer to the university.”
“At least keep an eye on the place while we’re gone.”
“Stop worrying. I’ll play the grumpy landlord whenever necessary.” Dresden playfully bumped his mother’s shoulder. “Dutiful son. History professor. Landlord—I’m your best son ever.” And she was the best mother ever.
“Don’t run off our renters, either.” His mother softly slapped his arm.
Dresden nodded, also hoping she wouldn’t add last-minute items to his list of tasks.
Charlotte bustled past him toward the stove and lifted the lid off a small pot. “I don’t have much in the house to make a meal. Your dad and I’ve been eating out for the past two days. That’s tiresome and not great food. This morning’s feast?” She scrunched her nose to mimic his reaction to the offering of congealed oatmeal.
Dresden shook his head. “I’m fine. Ate not too long ago.”
“What brings you here? Not that I’m unhappy to see you. But we did have a really nice goodbye dinner with you last night,” she said as she opened cabinets, inspected the empty space and pulled out any forgotten items.
What did bring him there? A need. One that gnawed at his center. Although he suffered no physical pain, he felt a heaviness as the day broke and the hours until his parents’ departure grew closer.
“Thought you might need a hand. No matter how much you plan, there is always something that goes off-script. Decided to pop over, just in case...” He shrugged out of his jacket, tossed it on a chair and joined her with inspecting the higher out-of-reach cabinets.
“We’re fine. Movers will be here within the hour. And I do have one more day before boarding the plane.” She paused and a hint of a frown flittered on her forehead. “You, however, don’t have one more day to face your destiny.”
Dresden stared into the empty space of a cabinet. Not a speck of dirt in sight. However, his mood mirrored the bleak emptiness of the shelves. The void in his soul couldn’t give a glimpse of the future, and it didn’t offer any solutions, either.
The blame for his unsettled feelings sat squarely at one person—Verona, his birth mother—and her family, the Meadowses.
His parents, whom he refused to think of in any other capacity, had never hid the fact that he was adopted. They’d never shared the details, allowing him to choose whether he wanted to know. And he didn’t. Had no desire to unseat his parents from their position in his life.
But when Grace Meadows took his choice away with her revealing letter, the surprise had sucked the breath out of his lungs. She’d forced him to face the truth, to acknowledge that another woman and her family were connected to him. Her entreaty, though polite, had shredded his world, leaving him to question how he should or should not feel.
Then, like an encore performance, Leo Starks, her lawyer, further made inroads with his heartbreaking story about the loss of his family and finding love again with Fiona, Grace’s granddaughter. That same granddaughter, his half sister, had managed to breach his defensive wall with her fresh outlook and honesty, to extend a hand of friendship. One that he’d accepted, but not without conditions. He wanted nothing to do with Verona—the woman who’d given birth to him.
Despite his rules of engagement, because he was a Meadows, with their international news and lifestyle media empire, the media spotlight had turned on him. Why did the Meadowses have the power to whip up a fog of confusion around his life?
Dresden sighed, wishing for more palatable options to materialize for his sake.
“You’ve got to attend Grace Meadows’s birthday party.” Charlotte had a knack for delivering the toughest messages wrapped in soothing tones and gentle smiles. “You’ve already booked your flight for tonight. No procrastinating.”
“I can meet them anytime.”
“It’s your grandmother’s eightieth birthday.”
“Grace.” He couldn’t help the correction. Only in his thoughts did he play with such familiar terms of his birth family. Grandmother. Mother. Sister. But to say those words aloud and attach them to the respective member of the Meadows family—well, he couldn’t stop the constriction that gripped his throat when he envisioned the scenario.
“Go celebrate Grace’s life. She would love seeing you there.”
“How would you know?” He turned his back and busied himself with inspecting another set of cabinets.
“Because I want them to see what a wonderful and respectable man you’ve turned out to be.”
Throughout his childhood, to him, his mother was the average working mom. To his school friends, she had this larger-than-life persona, like a female Indiana Jones, who wasn’t afraid to work in faraway, sometimes dangerous, places.
“Ah...so that’s the true reason you want me to go. For your glory,” he teased.
“Can you blame me? We’d hoped you’d be prepared for this eventuality. That’s why we never hid your adoption from you. Nothing to be ashamed or afraid of by you or by us. Besides, you’re a dashing gentleman. With a forgiving heart...right?”
Dresden’s laughter erupted into a roar that took a few seconds to die down. “You certainly know how to flatter and sway the wind to your favor.”
“That’s how I got your dad.” Charlotte retrieved his jacket, handing it to him. Then she slipped her hand through his arm. “Now, come with me.” She tightened her grip and walked him out of the kitchen and down the hallway. “You shouldn’t waste another minute trying to figure out your next step. You already know.”
“I’m feeling manhandled,” he protested.
“And you’d be absolutely right.” They made it into the foyer. Her hand still wound around his arm.
“Is that you, Dresden? I’m coming right down.” His father’s footsteps crossed the room overhead.
“No need to come down, Patrick,” his mother shouted up the stairs. “He’s heading out now.” She opened the door and, with more muscle than Dresden was prepared for, pushed him outside onto the porch.
“Really, you want me to go hobnob with the Meadowses.” All kidding aside, Dresden couldn’t believe how adamant his mother was on the issue.
“Yep, pretty much. I want you to be kind and make that old woman happy.”
“I agree with your mother. Go and show respect for your elders.” His father popped into view next to his wife.
They were the trifecta of a perfect match, with brains, beauty and marital bliss. Way beyond his talent and abilities. His parents were a unique couple who enjoyed their intense, but sometimes chaotic, lives. To Dresden, they had set the bar on life and love way too high for him to successfully follow.
“Don’t think she’d want to be called old,” Dresden muttered. Suffering under the wintry conditions, his teeth chattered, joining in with the uncontrollable shivering of his body.
“Good. Later you can share with me what other things she doesn’t like.”
“I didn’t say that I’d go.”
“They aren’t the bad guys in your story. Right now, it might feel that way. But, trust me, after a few more decades of life under your belt, you may feel differently.”
“Well, until that time comes—”
His mother interrupted with her palm raised in the universal stop sign. “We’ll see you in the spring. Skype and FaceTime will be our means for chatting. I do love you, son. But you’ve got a birthday party to run off to. Stop dawdling.”
The door closed. Lock turned.
Dresden blew on his frozen fingers, hoping she was kidding. Not until his ears started to suffer from stinging numbness did he declare defeat. Dresden flipped up the collar of his jacket to ward off the frigid temperature. He headed toward his car to retreat from the battle.
* * *
Laxmi Holder’s party days were long over. Now she was staying out of the spotlight, in case any lingering fans recognized her; that had prompted her low profile, especially on social media. Now she was the average citizen, trying to get her daily hustle on from her home base of Brooklyn instead of Los Angeles. From being a singer to managing one, she had switched viewpoints on the same playground.
Returning home meant that she could either reestablish her friendships or make new ones. Her retention rate on that front was abysmal, except for one friend—Fiona Meadows—with whom she really wanted to invest the time to rebuild their bond.
She reread the invitation that Fiona had hand-delivered to her. The Meadowses were celebrating the matriarch’s—Grace’s—birthday. It took a bit of cajoling from Fiona to get her to respond in the affirmative.
The excitement over going to the media mogul’s birthday gave way to a case of dread a few hours before she was due to leave for the party. She wasn’t a celebrity—got close, though. Then her career had suffered a fast-burn to nothing.
A wardrobe of nice clothes, a fast sports car and tiny savings were the remnants of her former life. Now she’d have to go among New York’s elite and the world’s richest and pretend that she belonged.
“Well, here goes nothing,” she remarked to her mirrored reflection before heading out.
* * *
Five hours later Dresden exited New York City’s John F. Kennedy Airport and stepped into the waiting limo. Unless he grabbed the driver by the shoulder in a fit of panic to force a detour, Dresden was bound for the iconic Winthorpe International Hotel.
The saying “sit back and enjoy the ride” didn’t really hold true. He was far from comfortable in the quiet, luxurious confines of the limo. Standing in front of a college class of forty to fifty university students talking about Canada’s natives, settlers and conquistadors didn’t faze him. But heading to a birthday party in one of the swankiest New York City hotels, with New York’s elite, for one of New York’s most influential moguls—who happened to be his grandmother—turned his gut into a queasy mess.
Dresden kept up a steady routine of rubbing his hands along his pant legs as the limo sped along to its destination. The clammy state of his palms didn’t bode well. People would shake his hand and give him the side-eye of disgust.
Horns blared. Messengers on bikes shouted warnings. Tour buses rumbled along with camera-ready riders. The New York City vibe had an effective way of delivering a potent shot of adrenaline to the system. With nervous energy already pumping through him, his pulse stayed at hyper level. He offered up a prayer of gratitude as the limo pulled up in front of the hotel. He needed his feet on firm ground.
A grinning uniformed porter briefly touched the brim of his cap before holding open the limo door. “Welcome to the Winthorpe. It’s our pleasure to be of service.”
“Thank you.” Dresden shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets, now feeling more than a bit self-conscious about its average, off-the-rack style. Even the staff outstyled him with their crisp white gloves.
“Any luggage?” The porter looked questioningly at the driver then at Dresden.
“None. I’m here for the Meadows reception.”
“Please step inside with your invitation and you’ll be escorted to the event.”
Dresden retrieved the important gold-embossed passport from his pocket and complied with the porter’s instructions.
In the lobby a dedicated attendant for the reception checked the invitation and escorted him to the ballroom’s entrance. There, a second attendant checked his invitation against a computerized list. Like a baton handed over for the next leg of the trip, a third attendant escorted him into the ballroom.
The expansive size of the room, the over one hundred decorated tables and chairs, the high ratio of staff to guests—all conspired to push his pulse into overdrive. He almost bumped into a passing waiter as he gaped at every drip and drop of glitz and glamour. Lifestyles of the rich and famous gathered under one roof.
As they were about to head down the middle of the room to what he presumed to be the head table, Dresden needed a minute to get the nerves under control. His heart raced as if amped by a massive dose of adrenaline. Although not hit by dizziness, he couldn’t ignore the out-of-body sensation that occurred with each step. He wasn’t in control. This wasn’t on his turf. The realization pressed in on his chest, impeding airflow. He tried not to pant like an out-of-shape jogger.
His escort looked back at the door, probably wishing someone more interesting and actually famous had been his assignment.
“I’m good. Gonna get a drink first.” Dresden pointed to the nearest bar. “I’ll find my way to the principal’s office.” He laughed. The attendant didn’t.
No longer under anyone’s responsibility, Dresden followed through on his word and headed for a bar a few feet away. Too bad the bar didn’t come equipped with stools. He’d gladly grab one and nurse a beer for the duration. No one would ever have to know that he was there. But for actual records, the check-in list would show that he’d arrived. Immediately his mother’s caution piled onto his guilt. The Meadowses weren’t owed his compliance.
* * *
Laxmi would have returned home if Fiona hadn’t spotted her in the room. She felt nauseous by the time she’d gone through the checkpoints to get into the party. At any moment, she expected someone to accuse her of being a faker.
“I’m so glad you made it.” Fiona hugged her tight, making Laxmi gasp. “Thought you would bail on me.”
“Of course not. Wouldn’t dream of it.” Laxmi hid her lie behind a bright grin. “Feels like most of New York is in this room.”
“It’s a good turnout.” Fiona looked radiant. Her fierce detective persona had disappeared behind stylish hair and makeup. She looked gorgeous in her evening dress.
Maybe she shouldn’t have worn the minidress. But she needed the safety net of her former style as the brash, youthful party girl. She could observe the world through that veneer.
“Come. Come. Let me show you to the head table.”
“Oh, no. I could have had a seat in the back. Near the coat check.”
“You’re so silly.” Fiona laughed, but as if sensing the retreat, she hooked her arm through Laxmi’s and guided her to the table.
After introductions were made, Laxmi took her seat.
Fiona patted her shoulder. “Sorry, I’m going to have to leave you. Have to play hostess.”
“Oh, please, go do your thing. I’ll be fine.” Laxmi waved her on and tried to keep her nerves away from her smile.
But once Fiona left, she felt alone. Stranded. No one at the table talked to her. The cousins might have remembered her, but she had been close to only Fiona. With the event not ready to start officially for thirty minutes, she scanned the room for a place to hang. The minibars stationed around the big room seemed good enough. She made her escape.
* * *
“Is this spot taken?”
Dresden shook his head without bothering to look over his shoulder. He wasn’t interested in conversation, even if its owner’s fragrance smelled so damn good it baited his curiosity to check her out. To distract himself, he shifted his focus to the head table and scanned the faces, looking for one specifically—Fiona, the only tolerable Meadow and his half sister.
“Which Meadows do you know?”
Dresden blinked and reluctantly turned to the woman who prodded his attention and who couldn’t read a vibe. Irritation fueled his impatience with the invader. His self-exile was on the verge of a breach.
A smile, bold and bright, greeted him and sucked the wind from his lungs. Its owner held out her hand to match the cheeriness behind her flash of teeth. “Laxmi Holder.”
The second after she said her name he silently repeated Lak-shmee.
He shook her hand and didn’t want to let go. But he had to when her smile turned into a bubbly burst of laughter at his flustered reaction. His face flushed with the creeping heat from his neck up over his cheeks.
An awkward handshake was the least of his problems as his eyes connected with her face.
Sexy, full lips were splashed with a badass red color. Bright eyes popped because of long, dark lashes and shapely arched brows. Add the interesting contours of her face and he might as well have stepped off the edge and fallen into a delightful rabbit hole.
“And you are?” she prompted. She hadn’t broken eye contact now that he couldn’t stop staring at her.
“Dresden.” He sipped his drink to quell the sudden dryness.
“You’re one of those one-name celebrities—like Cher and Madonna?”
He laughed at the idea of being anything but a history professor working on his genealogy as a personal hobby. Still, he jumped on the option to keep his last name out of the mix since he had no idea in what social circle she spent her time. His new fame had brought him into the spotlight with the details trickling in or being sensationalized for the gossip spreads. Any public mention of his life stripped away his privacy that he’d taken for granted. Reading the fictional and even the nonfictional bits about his life sounded insignificant and average when splashed against the Meadowses’ powerful reputation.
“Okay, mystery man,” she said in a husky voice that sounded like an old jazz singer’s. “We’ll play it your way. I like solving puzzles.”
“Nothing much to know.” And he meant it as a curtain to keep out her curiosity.
She shrugged, but he saw the interest intensify like so many did at mention of the Meadowses. She looked poised for any discovery. Her gaze recorded everything. If he stumbled and opened access to his life, she’d pounce without hesitation. While he had no intention of opening up about who he was because who really knew what had triggered her attention? On the other hand, he didn’t want his reluctance to end their conversation.
“Mild temperatures for the time of the year. More than chilly tonight, though.”
Laxmi signaled to the bartender for a refill. “Looks like we’ll stay in the safe zone and chat about the weather. Or maybe we can talk politics?”
Dresden made a face. “That’s depressing.”
She tapped her cheek with her finger, as if mulling over her next move. The nail polish perfectly matched the bloodred lip color. “Relationship status?”
His cough erupted and fizzled into a nervous chuckle from her direct blast into his personal life. His lack of a current girlfriend wasn’t a secret, but he was used to being in the driver’s seat when testing new terrain.
“It’s not a hard question.” Her voice turned an edge frosty. “Unless you’re about to lie.”
“Single.” He gulped a mouthful of beer.
“Good.”
His eyebrow hitched up with his shock that she was interested in him—and for more than passing time at a party.
Problem was, and he did see it as a problem, he was interested in her, too. He cleared his throat. His body was reacting without waiting for his mind to catch up. “Are you...single?”
She nodded.
“Not that I’m trying to pick you up.” He shook his head. “Commitment-phobe here. And work pretty much takes up my life.” Damn. He wanted to kiss those lips, smear that color right off.
The way his body short-circuited over her, he needed to set the record straight not only for her, but mainly for him.
But now his imagination wouldn’t stop its what-if scenarios. What if those long, manicured fingernails that tapped the bar’s counter could one day rake along the length of his back as they lay together?
He shifted his stance, wishing he could walk off the aroused tightness in his crotch. His eyes squeezed shut as he urged his libido to get it together. Maybe he needed a double shot of oxygen to clear away these thoughts.
“You’re a cop? Fireman? Navy SEAL?”
Dresden laughed and shook his head. “Professor. I teach history and write articles. Working on a book now.”
“Top secret?”
“My family tree in the context of Canada’s black history. I’m Canadian, by the way.”
“You keep getting more interesting. Sounds like your project is a lot of work, but also eye-opening for the curious-minded.”
He nodded, unable to withhold his appreciation that she showed interest in his work.
“And you haven’t managed to squeeze in a significant other?”
“I have. That’s how I know that it’s not happening anytime soon.” Despite the casual way she’d tossed out the question, he’d heard judgment.
“That’s better than saying ‘not in this lifetime.’”
Dresden didn’t respond. While she operated as being cool and confident, he could barely keep up with his unaffected demeanor under her pointed questions.
“You gotta give a woman a teensy bit of hope or they won’t stick around to talk to you when there’s a kick-butt party going on over her shoulder.” A smidgen of a smile curled her lips.
Dresden got the message, but this wasn’t the place to pick up anyone, even if she was rocking her tiny red minidress. And even if it fit like a tight glove around her curves at the top and at the bottom—He took another sip.
Reality check to self: hooking up at Grace Meadows’s party couldn’t happen. Shouldn’t happen.
“Let me guess.” She leaned toward him. He tried not to be caught in her weblike aura, but he leaned toward her. Couldn’t help it. That damned perfume rendered him weak. “You look out at these strangers in this backdrop with doubt, maybe condemnation. I can see it on your face. You’re dismissive of them for whatever reasons. That’s sad. Because you’re looking at me with a lot of suspicion mixed with wariness, as if I were about to suggest a one-night stand.”
Dresden choked on his drink. Her boldness, her accuracy about his attraction to her, rattled his nerves. He shook his head. He’d never own up to lusting after her.
“And on that note, it’s been an interesting few minutes with you, Dresden. See you around...if it’s meant to be.” Laxmi offered her hand once more.
This time he was prepared for the intense pleasure of holding it.
Or so he’d thought. He hadn’t expected the slight squeeze of her hand before she released his with the bonus of a slow wink.
Like a magician, she flipped a business card out of her pocketbook and extended it to him from between her fingers.
“Aren’t you afraid that I might use your card as a bookmark?” His voice croaked. Must not give in.
“Nah.” Once he took the card, she continued. “I’ll stay confident that you’ll call.”
Every part of him cheered in agreement. However, to pretend otherwise, to maintain his plan to be unavailable, thanks to her base in New York and his in Toronto, he simply slipped the card into his inside jacket pocket and picked up his drink. “Have a good night.”
She was gone before he’d finished talking. Her exit had as much flair as her style. The formfitting dress left admirers—and him—gawking as she cut a path with a supermodel strut to the front of the room.
Meeting her was worth the entire night’s experience. She had the unique appeal to wake him up and make him interested in something other than his current issues. Though she’d left, his system still savored the aftereffect of her energy.
Once Laxmi disappeared from his view, Dresden sighed. The fun part of the night was over. Time to grit his teeth, suck it up and formally be part of Grace Meadows’s birthday bash.
