Читать книгу Mills & Boon Introduces: What Lies Beneath / Soldier, Father, Husband? / The Seven-Day Target - Andrea Laurence, Soraya Lane - Страница 11

“I’m so glad you called me, Cynthia. I was wondering how you were adjusting to real life.”

Cynthia smiled across the table at her former nurse, Gwen. She was glad to have someone to talk to. Anita the housekeeper seemed concerned every time she tried to strike up a conversation, and when she spoke to her family, they’d start on her again about coming to stay with them. Even her sister, Emma, had dropped hints, probably at their mother’s urging. She enjoyed the time she’d spent with Pauline—they’d even had brunch on Sunday—but there were expectations there that she didn’t know how to fill. Gwen was the only person Cynthia knew from after the accident, and she appreciated having someone around who didn’t look at her as if she were possessed.

“It’s been interesting. Fortunately, I’ve managed to avoid a lot of people. I guess since I was in such bad shape, they want to wait as long as possible to see me. I don’t think it will last much longer. My mother is planning a big, fancy party to celebrate my recovery. I tried to block most of it out yesterday when she mentioned mailing invitations and hiring an orchestra to play. It sounds over the top and absolutely miserable.”

Gwen smiled and squirted some ketchup on her cheeseburger. “The people in your life care about you, as weird as all of this is for everyone involved. The sooner the new you gets out there, the sooner everyone will adjust. Are you planning on returning to work?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Sometimes getting back in an old routine can help.”

“Maybe, but I think it’s an impossibility. I mean, if I were a doctor, would you want me to jump back in the saddle and operate on you, hoping my years of medical training would magically come back to me?”

Gwen wrinkled her nose. “I guess not.”

“I was in advertising, which I know isn’t like brain surgery, but I remember nothing about it. I don’t really have an interest in it either.”

“So what are you going to do? Become one of those society wives that organize fundraisers?”

“Uh, no,” she groaned. “Right now I’m just trying something out.”

“Do tell,” Gwen urged, taking a large bite.

Cynthia thought about the pages and pages of clothing designs she’d sketched over the weekend. At first, it had been a wreck. At least twenty sheets of paper had been crumpled into balls and tossed in the trash bin. But then they started getting better. She let go of her inhibitions and the ideas started flowing. The color combinations she put together worked even when she worried they wouldn’t. The pieces coordinated beautifully. She was itching to see some of them leap off the page and onto a hanger. But that was a whole other hurdle to climb over. She might be a good artist and a horrible seamstress.

“I’m trying my hand at designing clothes. Just sketches right now, but I did what you told me and I’m following my instincts. Trying to do what my heart tells me feels right.”

“Fashion design? Wow. Are you enjoying it?”

She couldn’t hide her smile. “I am. I just sketch and sketch and when Will comes looking for me, I’m shocked to find I spent hours working on it.”

“Sounds like you may be on to something.”

“I think so. I mean, right now it’s just sketches, but I’m thinking about getting a sewing machine and trying to actually make some of it.”

“You should open a boutique and show at Fashion Week,” Gwen encouraged.

Cynthia had to laugh at her friend’s enthusiasm. “You are way ahead of me on this. First thing I have to do is figure out how to thread a bobbin. Then, if what I make doesn’t suck, I’ll go from there. I’m a long way from Bryant Park.”

“But it’s progress in the right direction. You’re building your new life. I think that’s great.”

That made her feel good. She had Will’s support, but a part of her wondered if he felt obligated to be her cheerleader. Her mother had feigned interest at brunch, but Cynthia could tell she’d been hoping her daughter would settle for being a society housewife like she was or at least go work for the family company. Knowing Gwen supported the choice made all the difference. “It is. I just wish everything else was working out, as well.”

“Like what?” Gwen asked with a concerned frown.

“Like Will and me.” Cynthia sighed, the weight of her situation heavy on her shoulders. He was sending conflicting signals. One minute he’s discussing how she can support herself after he moves out and the next they’re kissing on a park bench and holding hands. But even then, there was a part of him holding back. He was determined to keep one foot firmly out the door for a quick escape. That wasn’t a good sign. “I don’t know where I stand with him. With us. He seems distant sometimes.”

Cynthia knew she couldn’t tell anyone, not even Gwen, that they’d called off the engagement. Or about Nigel. He’d started calling again after Will left in the mornings. She’d considered telling Will, but it just seemed like dragging up the past after they had agreed to set it aside. Eventually he would stop calling. He had to.

“Maybe he’s just not sure how to deal with the changes. You guys have been together a long time. It’s like being with a new person. Whether the changes are good or bad, it’s still an adjustment.”

She looked down at her half-eaten burger and fries, which she was pleased to discover she adored, and nodded. Gwen was right. This had to be just as hard on Will as it was on her. Even as they kissed in the park, she could sense an internal battle raging inside him. The part that wanted her and the part that held back for whatever reason had fought hard. She wasn’t certain which side won. They’d held hands in the park on the way home, but he holed up in his office after that.

“Has anything happened between the two of you since you went home?”

“Just a kiss,” she said, the memory of it flushing her cheeks like a schoolgirl. Given her amnesia, it was like having her first kiss all over again.

“A kiss is something. If he didn’t like you, I doubt he’d bother kissing you.”

“But nothing has happened since then.”

Gwen took a sip of her drink and shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about that. He might be concerned about your recovery. Or preoccupied with his company. But let me ask you a question. Do you want something to happen?”

Cynthia frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve sort of inherited Will by default. Yes, you were technically with him for years, chose to be with him, but to the new you, he’s a stranger. What if you just ran into Will on the street? Would you be attracted to him?”

Cynthia tried to imagine crossing paths with Will in an alternate universe where they’d never met. Perhaps she dropped something and he stopped to pick it up for her. The Will in her mind smiled and she found herself immediately drawn into the blue-gray eyes that watched her. The powerful aura that surrounded him was hard to resist, even in her fantasy. His strong build, his confident stride, the way he moved so gracefully yet with commanding purpose.

A pool of longing settled low in her belly and made her squirm uncomfortably in her seat. It was just like the memory of their kiss. Yes, she was attracted to Will. She couldn’t remember their past, but her taste in men had certainly not changed since the accident, even if everything else had.

The question was whether she could allow herself to fall for him. He’d told her to think about it. And she had. She wanted to give them a second chance, but she didn’t trust herself. She had no idea what she was capable of. She didn’t want to hurt Will again. Letting this relationship and its baggage go might be better for everyone concerned. But it was difficult to ignore a man like Will.

“I think under any circumstances he’d be pretty hard to resist,” she conceded.

“Then why are you fighting it? The hard work is done. You’ve already landed one of the most eligible men in Manhattan. Regardless of the past, I see no reason why you shouldn’t allow yourself to indulge in this relationship.”

Cynthia could think of a dozen reasons why she shouldn’t be with Will and only one reason why she should. Unfortunately, that one reason had the tendency to trump all her good sense.

She wanted him. Badly.

And whether she should or not, she was going to try her damnedest to build a new relationship and keep him.

* * *

George Dempsey sat across from Will, the large mahogany conference-room table scattered with paperwork. The lawyers had prepared everything they needed for the product collaboration on the e-reader; the finer details just needed to get ironed out.

Unfortunately, Will could tell they wouldn’t get very far today. His almost-father-in-law had more pressing issues on his mind.

“I’m worried about Cynthia,” he said, staring blankly at a contract.

“The doctors say she’s healing well.”

“I’m not worried about her face,” George grumbled, tossing down the page. “I’m worried about her head. Pauline tells me she’s not going back to the ad agency, but she still refuses to work for me.”

“I don’t think she’s passionate about electronics like you are. She never has been. Why would that change now?”

“Maybe because everything else has. She’s doodling dresses all day. I feel like I don’t even know my own daughter anymore.”

“That’s only fair. She doesn’t know you, either.”

George’s brow furrowed in irritation. “Don’t make light of this. I’m worried about her emotional health. And, frankly, I’m worried about this wedding.”

Alarm bells suddenly sounded in Will’s head. As far as he knew, no one but Cynthia and Alex knew about their breakup. They were toying with the idea of trying again, but nothing was set in stone. Their kiss in the park had been everything he imagined it would be and more, but it worried him. They had the potential of moving too quickly, crashing and burning before the ink on the e-reader deal had dried. He’d taken a step back and tried to distance himself the past few days. He ordered her a present to be delivered to the apartment and hoped to take her out to dinner tonight, but he couldn’t predict the future. The paperwork on the table didn’t mean a damn if George thought the relationship was in jeopardy. “She’s been through a lot. A May wedding might be too soon. She could need more time to adjust.”

George leaned across the table and speared Will with his steely gaze. “What about you? Are you getting cold feet?”

Will shouldn’t have been surprised by the older man’s blunt nature, but it always caught him off guard. “Why would you say that?”

“You two haven’t been the lovebirds you once were. Back in school you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Even before the crash I sensed a distance. I don’t want to believe you’re a big enough bastard to leave her after her accident, but people shock me every day.”

“I have no intention of leaving Cynthia in her condition. No one can guarantee what happens after that. Any relationship can fail at any time, even when you’re trying.”

George cocked a curious eyebrow up at Will. “You know I prefer doing business with family. They won’t stab you in the back to please stockholders. If you have any reservations, you’d damn well better tell me before I sign off on this.” George slid some papers across the table.

“Mr. Dempsey, this e-reader collaboration is smart business. It benefits both our companies. The Observer is a family company as well. We’ve got sixty years invested in its success. I understand your reservations, but know that with or without this marriage, we’re fully behind the success of Dempsey Corp.”

The old eagle eyed him, reading the sincerity Will hoped was etched into his face. He seemed satisfied for now. “You better be. But one other thing, Taylor.”

Will hesitated to ask. “Yes?”

“I know a lot of people in this town. Business aside, if you hurt my little girl, I’ll do everything in my power to crush you and this newspaper like a bug.”

Will swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. And to think, he’d only been worried that Cynthia might hurt him.

When Cynthia arrived back at the apartment from her lunch with Gwen, the doorman waved her over to the desk. “Miss Dempsey?”

Surprised, she went to the counter. “Afternoon, Calvin. How are you today?”

Calvin smiled and she noted the sincerity that hadn’t been there the first time she’d met him. “Doing fine, Miss Dempsey. I have a delivery for you. It’s fairly heavy. Would you like me to have it brought up?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

She continued on to the apartment, and within minutes there was a ring at the door. She opened it up to find one of the other building attendants, Ronald, carrying a large white box. “Oh, my goodness,” she said, stepping out of the way. “Just set it over on the table.”

Digging in her wallet past her newly reissued credit cards and ID, she took some money out for Ronald and thanked him as he quickly exited.

Alone, she returned to the box. The delivery slip was addressed to her. She couldn’t imagine what it could be. She took a pair of scissors from the drawer near the entryway and sliced open the tape.

Inside was a big, beautiful, expensive, top-of-the-line sewing machine. She couldn’t even lift it out of the box and had to settle for admiring it from the top. It was shiny white with chrome accents. Stuck down along the side of the foam packaging, she found the owner’s manual. Since she had a while before Will would come home and help her unpack the sewing machine, she opted to study the instructions in preparation for its first use.

Around the time she finished reading, she heard Will at the door. Leaping from the couch, she rounded the corner to meet him just as he stepped inside. He looked at the expression on her face and then turned to the kitchen, where the large box was still sitting.

“I see it arrived.”

“It did!” she exclaimed. “Did you buy it for me? It’s wonderful.”

“I ordered it this morning. They assured me it was the best you could buy and that they’d deliver it today.”

Without hesitation, she put her arms around him, hugging him tightly and kissing him. Her intent had been to say thank-you, but once her lips met his, her plans unraveled. Will snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her tight against him. He had been distant since their last kiss and she’d thought maybe he wasn’t interested, but there were no doubts once his tongue slid across hers and his fingers pressed hungrily into her flesh.

It felt so good in his arms. So…right…unlike everything else in her life. Most days, she felt like a body snatcher, wearing Cynthia Dempsey and her life like a skin. Nothing felt real or normal except sketching clothes and being with Will. Certainly taking another chance with Will was the right choice.

Pulling back at last, she said, “Thank you.” She just knew her face was turning beet-red from being pressed so firmly against the full length of his body. It made her feel self-conscious.

Will didn’t seem to notice. “You’re welcome,” he said with a devious smile. “If I’d known you’d react like this, I would’ve bought it two years ago. Or at least last week.”

Cynthia smiled awkwardly at his statement, still wrapped tightly in his arms. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to let go or to pull her closer and kiss her again. “I…I’ve been reading up on how to use it,” she stuttered.

He held on for a moment longer before releasing her to take a few steps back. “Already studying?”

The short distance was enough to clear her head and return her focus to the topic at hand. “Yes, I think I could have it up and running by tomorrow morning. Do you think we could take a little field trip tonight? I’d love to get some supplies to play with. Fabric, thread, maybe some buttons?”

Will let his computer bag drop to the floor and shuffled out of his jacket. “We can. I was actually thinking I would take you out for dinner tonight anyway. We can go by the fabric store on the way. Just let me change out of this suit.”

Cynthia prepared quickly, knowing most fabric stores would be closing soon. He changed and they grabbed a taxi to whisk them to the Garment District. They took the old-fashioned elevator up to Mood, and she entered it like she would a sacred cathedral. Will loitered near the entrance doing business on his phone while she disappeared into the three stories of fabrics.

Triumphant, she greeted him a half hour later with a large black Mood bag filled with everything she might need. The dress form that wouldn’t fit in the sack would be delivered tomorrow. One of the employees had helped her, making sure she had all the basics, and gave her a good idea of what to do with them.

It was all very exciting. She had this surge of energy she hadn’t had since the accident. It was like the world had opened up to new possibilities. Fate had closed the door on her past, but as the operator slid open the metal grate of the elevator door, it was like he was opening a window to her exhilarating new future.

“Did you buy out the store?” Will asked, pushing open the downstairs door as she breezed past him.

“Not today. Maybe next week.”

“It’s good to have goals,” he said with a laugh. “Are you ready for dinner?”

“Yes,” she said. Lunch had worn off long ago, but she’d been too wrapped up in her new sewing machine to notice.

“There’s a steakhouse a few blocks east of here that I’ve been wanting to try. Does that sound okay?”

“Sounds great.”

Will took her bag and carried it for her as they made their way to the restaurant. As they stepped inside, Cynthia immediately felt underdressed and stopped dead in her tracks. The dark restaurant had paneled walls and deep burgundy tablecloths, delicately folded napkins and enough flatware to confuse an etiquette expert. Her slacks and sweater just didn’t seem up to par. Will had to nudge her forward so the door could close behind them.

“This place is too nice,” she whispered.

“You’re fine,” he assured, pushing her toward the maître d’s desk. “Two, please.”

Cynthia followed the two men through the restaurant to their table. They were seated at a secluded two-top in a corner where they wouldn’t be disturbed by other diners. The waiter was obviously under the impression that they were on a date. It certainly didn’t feel like one. At least not with Will eyeballing his cell phone again instead of his menu.

“Would you like to try one of our fine wine selections this evening?” the waiter asked when he arrived.

Will put his phone aside and looked expectantly to her, but she didn’t know what to say. He’d mentioned before that she liked to drink wine, but she was really just craving a tall, cold glass of Diet Coke. So she said so.

Will nodded. “A Diet Coke for the lady and a merlot for me, please.”

Once the server was gone, Cynthia tried to focus on the menu. There were so many things she hadn’t tried yet, but there’d been almost nothing she hadn’t liked. Except brussel sprouts. She had to remember to tell Anita that before she made them again. Tonight, however, she decided on a surf and turf to sample a few new items at once.

When the ordering was done and they were left alone with their drinks, Cynthia noticed for the first time how romantic the restaurant was, especially their quiet little alcove. A large stone hearth contained a fire that roared on one wall, the warm lighting casting everything in a golden glow. She hoped it would do wonders for her skin tone, which still wasn’t quite back to the perfect cream it once was. It certainly looked good on Will. The flickering of the fire sent shadows across the angular planes of his face and darkened his hair to a deep mahogany color. The flames reflected in his eyes as he watched her intently from across the table.

She drew in a ragged breath, her tongue darting across her lips to moisten them. His gaze dipped down to her lips for a moment and back to her eyes with a small smile. The heat of his stare made her intensely aware of her whole body. And his. The button-down shirt he’d changed into was dark green. It strained across his chest and shoulders, the hard muscles underneath fighting to be free of the restraint. Being pressed against him earlier had set her imagination wild. She wanted to know how those bare muscles would twitch under her hands. Or how the wall of his chest would feel when her breasts flattened hard against him.

“This place is very nice,” she said, reaching for her soda and taking a large sip to moisten her suddenly dry throat.

“It is,” he agreed, sitting back in his chair. “I’m glad we decided to try it.”

“How was work?” Cynthia desperately sought out a topic of conversation that wouldn’t make her think of touching Will and fisted her hands under the table to keep from reaching out to him.

“Busy, as usual. I saw your father today.”

That would definitely cool her ardor. “Yes, Mother mentioned he was going to see you. How is he?”

“Good. We were going over the finer details of our product collaboration. It should be ready to launch in the spring.”

“What are you two doing, exactly?”

“We’re working on e-reader technology. His people have managed to create a touch screen so light, thin and cheap that before long, everyone will have one. We’re hoping to even give them away with long-term e-subscriptions to the paper.”

“Is your paper having trouble?”

“No, we’re still performing well, but a lot of other papers aren’t. It’s all about the internet these days. I added online subscriptions a few years back, but I think e-readers are really the next big thing in the publishing industry. I want the Observer and Dempsey Corp. at the front of the surge. To take my company to the next level as a top-tier performer. It’s what I’ve fought for years to do.”

Cynthia nodded, although she had no real idea what it was all about. She loved the feel of a book in her hand, and it would take time before she would be willing to give that up to a gadget. But it sounded promising for the two companies. A big boost in the industry. Maybe if he climbed that peak, he’d be willing to sit back for a while and enjoy the view for once. She doubted it, though.

“Is that why we were getting married?”

Will paused, his glass in midair. “It’s not why I proposed to you, no.”

“But it’s why you stuck around even though I was difficult.”

“We both had our reasons for getting married, even if they were misguided.”

“I would think that it was just good business, working together. Why do you have to marry me to seal the deal?”

“It’s not like that,” Will insisted. “My proposal had nothing to do with your father’s company. That all came later. Just an incentive to stick things out when you became—to use your word—difficult. Your father prefers to work with family. When I broke off our engagement, I did it knowing that this project could be dead in the water the minute he found out.”

“If this second try doesn’t work out between us, will it hurt your company?”

“No, it won’t hurt us. But it won’t help either.”

“I could talk to him. I mean, I’m the reason we broke up. He shouldn’t penalize you and your employees because of something I did.”

“That’s a very sweet offer, but I don’t think I’m in need of any of your heroics just yet.”

Will reached across the table to take her hand into his own. The warmth of him enveloped her and radiated up her arm like sinking into a hot bath. His thumb stroked across her knuckles in slow circles, sending the tiny hairs on the back of her neck to attention. She wanted to close her eyes and lose herself in the sensation of his touch, but his gaze had her pinned in her seat.

“What makes you think this second try won’t work?” he asked with a devilish smile that almost convinced her it would.

Almost.