Читать книгу The One That I Want - Michelle Monkou - Страница 11

Chapter 2

The music faded into the rumbling din of the guests. The clink of glass and buzz of conversation accompanied Dresden’s solitary walk to the head table.

Lights suddenly dimmed over the room, wrapping everyone in soft white lights that glittered off the chandeliers. The waitstaff efficiently slipped to the perimeter of the room with dirty dishes in tow. Stage lights now brightened a wide path for the mistress of ceremonies, who’d stepped forward to take charge. Her booming voice commandeered everyone’s attention as she announced that the planned program for the birthday celebration would begin.

An eager attendant, scrubbed and polished, quickly inserted himself into Dresden’s space, blocking his progress to the Meadowses. “Are you part of the VIPs?” He pointed to his wrist and tapped his finger on the spot.

Dresden stared at him, clueless as to the meaning of the signal.

“VIPs have a purple bracelet. Do you have your invitation?”

Dresden nodded and showed it.

The eager and now annoyed attendant cleared his throat as he closely read the paper. “Okay. Here’s your bracelet.”

Dresden took the simple band and slipped it on. He squashed the stubborn urge to refuse this anointed VIP status and risk the attendant’s disdain. His DNA connection to the Meadowses changed nothing. With his personal life and career pursuit solidly middle of the road, he had no experience with the airs and graces that surrounded this family.

While the emcee continued on with her introductions, he turned himself over to his escort and followed along to the head table.

“Mrs. Meadows, your guest Dresden Haynes is here.” The man actually bowed. Not to a full ninety-degree angle, but enough to give deference and to earn a regal nod.

Dresden’s back stiffened. She couldn’t expect him to do the same? But he wasn’t sure as Grace Meadows slid her keen gaze onto him. The entire table’s attention followed suit, including Miss Sexy Red Dress.

Laxmi offered him an imperceptible nod. Casually posed. Neutral smile. Guess she wasn’t disclosing that they’d met.

In return, he responded with a quick, dismissive nod before he turned his attention back to Grace.

“How good of you to join us,” Grace said with clear imperious elocution. “I’m so thrilled that you came to my party. Now, take your seat. We are about to begin.”

The woman didn’t look anywhere close to eighty years old. A vibrancy burst from her like an extra ring added to her aura. Even without all the family members and the birthday decorations that framed her, she would still stand out in a crowd.

She shooed him away with a flick of her hand. “You are seated next to Fiona. Go on, take a seat.”

His sister was already at his side with arms outstretched. Before he could take it all in, before he could take a step back, she pulled him into a fiercely tight hug. “I can’t believe you’re here. I’m so glad.” Her hug grew tighter as she repeated herself.

“Good to see you, too,” Dresden offered after his release from her arms. The tension interwoven through his neck muscles slackened and disappeared under her reassuring smile. During their many conversations, he’d accepted that Fiona shouldn’t shoulder any blame for his lost-and-found story line. Nor should she be burdened with his pendulum swings over accepting the role and responsibilities as a Meadow or retreating to his obscurity from the family.

“Let’s get the introductions over with because I’m sure your brain is on overload right now,” Fiona said after he took his seat.

Her prophetic statement held true after he was reintroduced to Fiona’s boyfriend, Leo; their cousins Dana and Belinda and their significant others, Kent and Jesse; and more extended family. In that last cluster of family members, he had to acknowledge Verona—Fiona’s mother—the same woman who’d given him away and held on to her secret until a few months ago, when Grace and Fiona had found out about his existence.

He twisted the lock tighter on his emotions to halt any visible signs of how he felt. The order he craved in his life couldn’t afford pendulum swings into drama. Neither did he want to dwell in hurt, anger or even empathy for Verona.

Feelings for this woman whom he couldn’t think of as his mother didn’t linger in one place. At times, he wondered about her life and the difficulty of giving him up. During those moments, he could stir up a measure of compassion without feeling any sense of obligation to talk to her. Other times, when he celebrated with his parents over the smallest joy, he could erase Verona from his conscious thoughts.

Overall, the many names he’d just learned, along with each person’s identifying details, merged in a chaotic swirl of too much information. The pressure to impress, his emotions, his grudging willingness to be there, all overwhelmed him. If tested, he’d be unable to recall anything. Hopefully he wouldn’t have any long conversations that would tax his memory.

But he sensed that it was an empty fantasy because their gazes stuck to him like prickly burrs. It didn’t help that a few heads tilted toward each other for whispered chitchat. How much did they know about him?

“And the last one in the lineup is my friend Laxmi Holder,” Fiona revealed with an appreciative pat on her friend’s shoulder.

“Just to be clear, it’s best friend.” Laxmi smirked at him.

Good grief, she belongs to the other side. Dresden nodded in mock salute. “Not to worry. I won’t usurp your place.”

“Hope not. She’s got enough friends.” Laxmi pointed at Fiona with her thumb. “I, on the other hand, may have an opening for a friend with benefits.” She widened her smile.

Dresden felt like her partner in crime, with their shared secret about not being complete strangers. He swallowed the automatic response to match her smile with his. Hard to be around this intriguing woman and not react to her or anything she said. Besides, he was certain Fiona had picked up that something had occurred between the two. Although she was baffled now, no doubt that she would corner Laxmi later for the lowdown.

To throw off Fiona and get himself onto emotionally neutral land, Dresden allowed himself to drift along with the meandering conversations closest to him.

The cousins soon overshadowed his preoccupation with Laxmi. Jointly they engaged him in animated conversations exchanging information about their childhood misadventures. Listening to the details from their childhood, he felt like a spectator. He couldn’t help thinking about what it would have been like to be part of the family dynamics. But their exuberance and effort to draw him in with humor and great storytelling abilities helped dissipate some of the awkwardness of the situation.

However, he took the more comfortable route to talk about his humorous interactions with his students and his more interesting research trips. Childhood stories, living in exotic places with his family, and anything else that he deemed too personal, remained unspoken.

Sliding his attention past the cousins, he saw Verona, far enough away but still in his direct line of sight. He studied the woman who’d given birth to him but couldn’t look at him. She didn’t smile much. Didn’t talk much, either. She wasn’t a sad figure. More like a contemplative spectator at the table. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected or what he’d wanted—a bereaved woman in perpetual torment would be nice.

A low-level headache hummed across his brow. Maybe he should have stayed at the bar. He needed a little help to get through the night. However, his escape plan hit a snag.

The program started with the official introduction of Grace. The matriarch walked forward to take her place on the stage. Guests cheered her on with a standing ovation. Dresden clapped along with everyone as each major accomplishment was read about her humble beginnings in the media industry to the steep upward trajectory to success and power.

He chanced a glance at Laxmi before he resumed his seat. She was chatting with one of the cousins. Not once did she look in his direction. He did but also didn’t want her attention. Still, why on earth did he feel a twinge of disappointment because she ignored him?

Grace stepped up to the microphone, first acknowledging the ovation and grand introduction. Her speech turned somber and reflective.

Dresden listened to her creative version of his inclusion in the family. More details than he’d preferred, about Grace hiring Leo to find her grandson so that she could celebrate this milestone birthday with her entire family. Her pride extended to her daughter Verona and the reunion of her children, whose successful lives were testimony to the Meadowses’ traits of grit and determination.

Bitterness simmered in his chest like embers. Charlotte and Patrick deserved all the credit. And he’d never betray their love by sharing any part of himself with Verona.

“Would all my grandchildren join me onstage?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know she’d do this.” Fiona touched his fisted hand on the table as she rose to join her grandmother. The cousins also stood, looking expectantly over at him.

His mind raced along with the thump of his heartbeat. His body, on the other hand, felt like it was in a high-drama family saga moving in slow motion. He had to stand. Had to walk to the stage. Had to take his place next to people he didn’t know or belong with, as part of the united front for the public and for Grace.

Cameras didn’t stop flashing. Were they all so fascinating, to need every facet of their life on record? He tried to shield his eyes but couldn’t manage that and see to walk. Feeling more than a tad self-conscious, he retreated between a gap in the lineup. The rest of the family all dealt with it like pros.

Dresden concentrated hard on not barfing onstage. Alongside him, he witnessed Fiona, like her cousins, charm the audience with her testimonial of love and devotion for her grandmother. Their sincerity stirred up warm, cozy feelings about family and legacy. While they lauded Grace’s impact to their lives, he related the same feelings to his memories of his adoptive parents. Nothing would change where his loyalty resided. Except, a deep-seated fear formed that he could fall under the spell of the Meadowses.

Meanwhile, the guests continued cheering through Fiona’s speech. They were the fans for the home team, fully engaged at a pep rally. How would he follow her blaze of glory with his version as the new Meadows? What emotional bloodletting would he have to perform for the guests’ satisfaction?

The anxiety had him wishing that he was back at the bar admiring a particularly sexy woman in her red-hot minidress. Timing wasn’t on his side, but he’d make do with the temporary opportunity.

Damn, it was his turn. Fiona offered a final wave before she left the podium to rejoin the line of grandchildren. His nerves popped and multiplied in the pit of his belly. Too many thoughts to process and no time for second-guessing. Dresden rubbed his palms along his pant legs and blew out a shaky breath.

The short walk to the podium felt a mile long. But nothing more delayed his face time with the guests. He tried to smile. Tried to make his face relax. Tried to hold it together.

He dug deep and imagined standing in front of a freshman class. This was nothing more than teaching the early history of Canada. If he was lucky, he’d have to deal with only a few glazed stares.

“Tonight I’m here with the Meadowses to celebrate Grace’s birthday. Thank you for the invitation.” He inclined his head toward the head table. “Right now...” He paused, trying to direct his words so that only positivity flowed. “This has been...quite a year.” A few chuckles joined in with his weak laughter. He scratched his forehead, although there was no itch, just an unease that wouldn’t stay buried. “A lot to take in. And we will move onward and upward. So, um...enjoy the meal.”

Then he took a step back from the podium. With a loud exhalation, he looked over at Fiona. Sorry. He mouthed the word before looking back out over the crowd. A soft buzz of chatter gradually filled in the silence after he finished.

He sought one person’s judgment—Laxmi’s. He was sure Grace regretted his stumbling debut to her friends. That was why he’d rather deal with Laxmi and her series of pointed questions about his behavior than Fiona’s or Grace’s disappointment.

Without pausing to analyze the consequences of the next steps, Dresden walked briskly off the stage. His strides lengthened and picked up momentum toward the exit. Escape. Freedom. All he wanted right now was cool air filling his lungs.

He reached the hotel entrance out of breath, but grateful, and pushed open the door. The temperature had dropped significantly, adding a frigid edge to the already frosty condition. His face tightened against the wind but he needed the briskness to take his mind off his actions.

“Sir, do you need a taxi?” An attendant stepped up, ready to hail a cab with his whistle.

“I guess I should get one.” Dresden looked around for the limo. He’d gotten out of the vehicle without ensuring that he had a ride after the party. And there was no sign of the car or driver.

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll take the runaway to his hotel.”

The attendant nodded and left him at the curb.

Dresden slowly turned in the direction of Laxmi’s voice. She greeted him with a cocky smirk and headed over to the valet service booth. A red coat shielded her body against the cold. Like the red dress, the perfectly matched coat complemented her skin. And, oh, man, that strut she had was always a pleasure to watch.

First, he didn’t know if he wanted to be rescued. Second, should she be his knight in a hot minidress? But he didn’t want to ponder the dilemmas for any real answer.

A spectacular red Ferrari Sergio roared into view and pulled up beside them. Dresden watched Laxmi tip the valet before sliding behind the steering wheel.

Did she plan for every part of her life to be in sync? The sports car matched its owner—brash and eye-catching with compelling power moves. As she fluffed out her hair and let it fall past her shoulders in a thick, curly black curtain, he knew she had the “it” factor for an expensive car ad.

“Oh, come on. I’m harmless.” The limited-edition roadster’s engine revved like a signal for him to get in and enjoy the ride.

“I’m not supposed to take rides from strangers.” He tried not to fall under her spell. All night he had tried, but as his hand closed on the door handle, he knew he couldn’t go on unless he surrendered to this woman.

An exciting shiver ran along his spine. She pressed a red lipstick to her bottom lip and smoothed on a fresh coat. He followed its path over the curves and valley of her lips. To survive the moment, he looked around for a distraction.

Seeing the valet looking longingly at the car instead of drooling over Laxmi worked for Dresden. Not that he could claim to be jealous of someone he didn’t know.

“Didn’t envision this gem as my getaway car.” He got into the tight space and pushed back his seat to match hers.

“And I never imagined that I’d be racing off with such a worthy prize.”

“Prize? Guess that’s what I am...to them.” He looked toward the entrance. The way he’d left, the things he’d said or hadn’t said—all of it ran on a continuous loop. There was no coming back from this. Should he never have said yes to Fiona’s invite? Now he’d made a mess of things and embarrassed Grace on her birthday. He swore under his breath.

“Want to head back in?”

“No. Actually, I did what I came to do. No more. No less.” He shrugged off the denial that popped up.

“At least sleep on it. You might think differently in the morning.”

“Are you the getaway driver or my therapist?” So what if he sounded ungrateful?

* * *

Laxmi didn’t consider herself the most observant person. Her client, Tonea, tended to accuse her of being clueless most of the time. Tonight was one of the occasions when clarity arrived and stuck around long enough for her to pay attention to her new drinking buddy—Dresden, the missing Meadows.

She sensed that he had been equally nervous about attending the party, of course, for different reasons. His reluctance to engage was understandable, but also a welcome distraction. Plus, he was so darn fine that she couldn’t resist flirting.

But when he went onstage, she saw the panic. She recognized the signs of feeling out of control, looking out at the crowd for approval and hoping to impress. His panic got the better of him and he bolted.

As soon as he left the stage, Laxmi shot out of her seat and followed. Maybe she was looking for an excuse to also leave, but there was a part of her that was genuinely interested in Dresden.

Even if he met her concern with full-out suspicion.

* * *

“I’m Fiona’s friend. So, she matters and, by default, you matter.”

“Then let me relieve you of that obligation.” He reached for the door handle.

But his head hit the headrest as Laxmi pushed the gas pedal. Tires squealed. Pedestrians skipped out of the way, hopping onto the curb. Their departure from the front of the hotel turned into a blurred flash of buildings and lights.

Not until Laxmi pulled up at a red light did Dresden test the seat belt. He kept one hand on the dashboard for added measure as she took off again. A sharp right turn tested his grip on every surface. A side glance to check on Laxmi only proved that the ride to his hotel would feel like a jump through a time warp.

“Where to?” she asked in between a three-lane change.

“I chose to stay at the Barkley Towers.”

“Nice digs. Everyone is at the Winthorpe.”

“I know,” he said. Fiona had offered to make the reservation at the same hotel, but he’d known he’d need his space. Besides, he’d passed on the Meadowses picking up the tab for his hotel stay.

“You’re a loner? Not judging.” Her hand rose against his instant protest. “Call me being observant.”

She banked a hard left. A few car horns blasted their owners’ annoyance. With another squeal of brakes, they pulled up in front of the hotel, a much quieter venue than the location for the birthday bash.

“Home sweet home.”

“Thanks.” Dresden unsnapped the seat belt and opened the car door. “I really appreciate...this.”

“No problem. My pleasure.”

He looked up at the building, glad to be in his safe space. Yet he didn’t want to part ways with Laxmi. “You’ve missed a lot of the festivities. Sorry about that.”

“Yes, but then, you wouldn’t have been there. Who would I have spent my time getting to know?” She shook her head. “Nah. I’m in the right place at the right time.”

“Do you want to come in for a drink?” He plunged ahead without bothering to have a comeback if she rejected him.

“Oh. I’m shocked.” She clearly teased him. “Didn’t think you were into one-night stands.” Her audacious wink drew his laughter.

“I promise that no such thing will occur.”

“Bummer.” She emerged from the car and handed over the keys to the valet. “And here I thought you were going to be interesting.”

Dresden didn’t know how to deal with his unlikely partner in crime. They walked into the lobby, with her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, and then stepped onto the elevator. She hummed a tune he didn’t recognize. He looked straight ahead, hoping she couldn’t see his heart popping out of his chest, pumping like an overworked piston.

As soon as the doors opened and they stepped into the hallway, Laxmi said, “Somehow I pictured you in a setting like this.”

“Old and dusty?” He didn’t think she was laying down a compliment.

“An appreciation of the old mixed with the new. You’re a history professor. But you also have written some interesting articles on various topics with a predictive air about what the future holds. How the past doesn’t have to dictate the future. In other words, you are an optimist.”

* * *

Laxmi once had been an optimist. The high ledge where hope and ideals resided was for those lucky souls. But the space had felt narrow and uncomfortable once her life unraveled with loss and defeat.

Maybe her attraction to Dresden began with his air of optimism. Why else would he attend Grace’s party, despite his hasty departure?

* * *

“You knew who I was?”

“Not right away. Although, Dresden is an unusual name. But the aha moment hit when you showed up at the table.”

Dresden groaned. He didn’t want to remember his most recent personal history. He slid the hotel key card into the lock and motioned for her to enter.

“You know once I cross the threshold, you’ve officially invited me in.”

“And I’m all out of garlic and holy water.”

“I won’t put any moves on you.”

The declaration disappointed him. He was too damned ready to wrap his arms around her fine body and deliver a long, hard kiss.

“Oh, what the hell.” She grabbed his shirt and pulled him to her. “No?” She licked her lips. “Or yes?”

“Hell, yes.” He kissed her just the way he’d imagined the sensation of falling backward into bliss without knowing how far beneath him the bottom was.