Can't Stand the Heat (24 page)

C
ris slouched back in his lounger, flipped a page in his book, and absently reached for his beer on a nearby end table. He took a sip and set the bottle down again, let his eyes scan over the words on the novel's pages, and tried to become engrossed in the story, but he wasn't succeeding. He then glanced at the clock on the great room wall. When he saw what time it was, he angrily clenched his jaw.

It was nearly ten o'clock. Almost another full day had gone by, and he still hadn't heard anything from Lauren.

Cris had waited patiently the entire week for Lauren to call him or come to his home. Well, “waited” wasn't quite the right word. It wasn't like he was staring at the phone, willing it to ring. He had his pride after all. He had gone about his normal daily routine, waking up at eight a.m. and working out in the gym, doing conference calls with his business associates, supervising the upkeep of his property, and meeting up with Jamal for a beer after hours. But all the while, in the back of his mind, he wondered when—and
hoped
—that Lauren would reach out to him.

He even would have accepted an e-mail from her, but she had made no attempt to contact him, to tell him she overreacted the morning she kicked him out of her apartment. She hadn't come to him to say she wanted his help, either.

Stubborn,
he thought, slowly shaking his head in frustration.
She's so goddamn stubborn.

Sharing hours with her, sharing a bed together, hadn't made a bit of difference. It was as if the months they had spent together hadn't happened. And he had been willing to look beyond her tangled and warped past. He had stood up for her to Jamal and had to restrain himself from beating the hell out of her ex-boyfriend. So many had called her a whore and he had staunchly stood by her side. He had been ready to love her completely, to trust her, but she hadn't been willing to do the same.

The realization still broke his heart.

Just then, his doorbell rang. Cris raised his gaze from his book and glanced toward the great room's entrance. The doorbell rang again and he shut his book.

Was it Lauren?

It could be, though at this point he wasn't sure how he would feel if he found her standing on his doorstep. He was still hurt, not to mention angry as all hell at her.

The doorbell chimed a third time.

“So you won't hear her out?” a voice in his head asked.

“You wanted her to come to you to apologize, and now you won't even answer the door?”

With a heavy breath, he pushed himself to his feet. He slowly walked out of the great room, down a corridor to the front door. He paused before turning the steel knob and pulling the door open. When he saw who was standing in the shadow of the entrance light, he stared in surprise.

The brunette beauty gave a bashful smile and then batted her long, dark eyelashes. “Hi, Cris.”

“What . . . what are you doing here?”

He peered over her shoulder at the black Lincoln Town Car sitting idle in his driveway. A driver sat at the wheel, gazing with boredom out the windshield at the manicured lawn.

Alex, who was decked out in a formfitting, expensive-looking red business suit, shrugged her slender shoulders. “There's a conference near Dulles where our PR firm is showcasing. I knew you weren't that far out of town, so I decided to pay you a visit. I figured it would be better than being stuck at some stuffy old airport hotel.” Her smile widened. “So are you willing to give a lady some shelter?”

Cris leaned against the doorframe.

If Alex had arrived more than a week ago, he would have told her she had made a big mistake by showing up here unannounced. He had moved on and was already in a new relationship with a woman he loved very much. Having Alex at his home would have only complicated things for him. But that was a week ago. Now that he and Lauren had broken up and it seemed pretty unlikely that they would get back together, those complications weren't there anymore.

“You should have called, Alex.”

“And if I had called, what would you have said? Huh? I thought the element of surprise would work in my favor.”

“What if I was on a date? What if I had a woman here?”

“Oh, come on, Cris! I
know
you. You're a gentleman to a fault. Even if you had some groupie here, you'd toss her out rather than turn me away. I wasn't worried.”

“I wouldn't be too sure about that.”

“Cris, if you want to argue with me, we could just as easily do it inside.” She took a step toward him, reached out and touched his shoulders. “Come on. Let me stay . . . just for a few days,
mi amor
. For old times' sake.”

He knew what she was doing. It was as obvious as the Chanel No. 5 perfume she wore. She was trying to weasel her way back into his life. He wouldn't be surprised if the story about the conference was a total lie, and Alex had simply gotten tired of waiting on him to take her back and made up a story to come to Virginia, to show up on his doorstep. That was completely Alex's style. Yet he couldn't bring himself to tell her no. Maybe it was his lingering anger at Lauren or Alex's seductive smile, but he found himself rolling his eyes as he waved her inside. Besides, the house had plenty of rooms. It wasn't like they would be sharing the same bed, and frankly, if his heartbreak lasted long enough, he may not be that against the whole idea of sharing a bed with Alex again.

Alex instantly grinned and turned to look at the driver. “You can bring them in, Felipe!” she shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth like a megaphone. She then winked at Cris before striding confidently through the front door. As she stepped into the foyer, she put her hands on her hips and grinned. “Nice place, Cris.”

Cris watched as the driver popped open the trunk and opened the driver's-side door. Seconds later he started unloading suitcase after suitcase, setting her suitcases on the driveway. When he was done, more than half a dozen sat around the car's back bumper. He grunted as he carried a few to the door and dropped them in front of Cris like he was releasing boulders.

“Can you take these inside?” the driver asked. He then motioned over his shoulder with a jab of his thumb. “There's a couple more in the backseat that I gotta get.”

“Great,” Cris murmured sarcastically as he lifted one bag and tossed the strap of another onto his shoulder. He walked back inside. “What the hell have I gotten myself into?”

L
auren wiped the remaining tears away from her puffy eyes as she gazed at the roadway. The streets were mostly deserted this early in the morning and dimly lit by streetlamps that were losing their brightness with the rising sun. She sniffed and swallowed loudly, squinting at the signs on the side of the road, hoping not to miss her turn. Though the route was familiar to her, she knew in her shaky state she could easily get lost.

 

At least Phillip was no longer in the intensive care unit. The doctors had had to do emergency surgery soon after he was admitted—a triple bypass—and though the surgery had been successful, the doctors said it had been “touch and go” for a while as they worked on him.

After Phillip came out of surgery, Lauren hadn't known whom to call. Phillip had no real family to speak of. His beloved grandmother had died more than a decade ago. His other relatives he hadn't seen in years. When she finally rounded up a few phone numbers and made some calls, most of his friends and colleagues in other parts of the country seemed too busy with their own lives to make the trek to Chesterton to rush to his aid.

Worried about him, knowing that he was in the hospital all alone, she was distracted most of the time at the restaurant. She messed up orders and regularly forgot the important plating details that she knew Phillip considered sacred. More than once she had wanted to throw up her hands and just head to the hospital, but she talked herself out of it and stayed. Phillip would have had a heart attack all over again if he knew his kitchen wasn't being run properly.

Between the lunch and dinner service, she would rush to his bedside, usually keeping vigil alone with the exception of a few loyal line cooks who showed up for a few hours in the hospital room. She realized, sitting at his bedside, that Phillip was the closest thing she probably would ever have to a father figure. He had offered her guidance and taken her seriously when others had not. She felt like she owed him this. She
had
to stay at his side.

Lauren had never been much of a churchgoer or a person who prayed, but she prayed fiercely, asking God to make Phillip better. For four days, she waited patiently for him to open his eyes.

And when he finally woke up at around five a.m. that morning, she wanted to shout and weep with joy. She called for the nurse, who came into the hospital room and checked his vitals. Lauren was ushered out of the room when a doctor more thoroughly examined Phillip later. Phillip was still too medicated to be coherent, but he was awake and on the mend. Lauren rushed into the linoleum-tiled hallway, instantly wanting to share her elation with someone.

Her first instinct hadn't been to call her mother or even her sisters. She instantly started to dial Cris's number on one of the pay phones. She wanted him to come to the hospital so she could cry on his shoulder with relief. But just before dialing the last digit, she stopped herself, remembering what she had said to him the last time she saw him. She had kicked him out of her apartment and her life. There was no way he would come to the hospital to be with her.

At that thought, she hung up the phone and slumped into one of the leather-cushioned chairs in the hospital hallway, feeling tears prick her eyes again.

I've treated him so badly,
she thought with regret. But she loved Cris. When it came to men, he was the closest thing to perfect that she could imagine. And despite all her faults, he loved her, too. She was sure of it. It scared her enough that she had almost lost Phillip, her mentor. Now she had pushed the one man she truly loved away.

She had to talk to Cris. She
had
to get him back.

That's when she decided to leave the hospital, feeling comfortable to do so now that Phillip was awake and in good hands. She didn't want to talk to Cris over the phone. She wanted to see him in person.

 

Lauren decelerated as she took the winding, paved road that led to Cris's property and finally his home. Her hands on the steering wheel were trembling with nervousness. She licked her parched lips and grimaced, not knowing what to expect, dreading the worst.

She and Cris hadn't seen each other in almost a week. She had no idea how he would react with her arriving out of the blue, ringing his doorbell. She hoped he would at least give her a small window to explain herself. She hoped that he would listen.

As she neared his house and his columned portico came into view, she took a slow breath. A minute later, she parked in his driveway and took her keys out of the ignition. She closed her eyes and sat quietly for several seconds, trying to calm herself. Finally, she opened the driver's-side door and slowly climbed out of her car. The morning air was cool and crisp and the world around her was eerily quiet, so quiet that she could hear the rapid pounding of her heart in her ears, and her shallow breaths.

She glanced at her reflection in one of the car windows, only confirming what she suspected all along: She looked horrible. She hadn't had a good night's sleep in days. She wasn't wearing any makeup and her clothes were wrinkled. She hadn't even had the chance to comb her hair, but she had to see Cris. She didn't want to delay this any longer.

Lauren climbed the three steps to Cris's French doors. She rang the doorbell and patiently waited for Cris to answer. Her eyes were downcast. Her lips moved silently as she practiced what she was going to say. When one of the French doors finally opened, she charged full steam ahead, not wanting to lose her nerve.

“Cris, I know you may not want to see me, but I have to tell you that . . .”

Her words faded when she realized that it wasn't Cris standing at the front door.

The glamorous woman leaned casually against the door frame with a chilled glass of orange juice in one hand and a folded newspaper in the other. Her glossy, raven black hair cascaded in waves around her shoulders. Her belted white silk robe was slightly parted, revealing the sky-blue negligee underneath.

Lauren's mouth fell open in shock.

“Yes? May I help you?” the woman asked, cocking a finely arched eyebrow.

Why was this woman here at Cris's home, and more important, why was she in her nightgown?

Lauren quickly recovered. “I . . . uh . . . I came to . . . to speak to Cris.” She licked her lips. “Is . . . is he here?”

“As a matter of fact, he is.” The woman took a languid sip from her glass. She scanned her eyes over Lauren. Her gaze lingered on Lauren's wrinkled clothes and her disheveled hair. “And may I ask who you are?”

Lauren felt the all-too-familiar prickle of anger seep within her veins. “My name is Lauren. May I ask who
you
are?” she snapped.

The woman broadly smiled. “Alejandra Delgado. I'm Cris's girlfriend.”

Lauren felt as if someone had punched her in the gut. “Gir-
girlfriend?”

Cris had mentioned his
ex
-girlfriend Alex once or twice, but he hadn't said anything about her making the trek out to Virginia. He hadn't mentioned them getting back together, either.

“Yes, his girlfriend.” Alex gazed at Lauren's crestfallen face. “Aww, are you one of his fans? I hate to disappoint you, honey. So many women think he's single. Maybe I could cheer you up by getting you his autograph. I'll—”

“I didn't come for his autograph! I . . . I came to talk to him. I wanted to . . .” Her words faded.

“You wanted to what?”

I'm too late,
Lauren thought dismally.
I came too late.
Lauren backed away from the front door. Her legs felt rubbery, unsteady beneath her. She turned, almost stumbling as she did so. She shakily walked to her car.

“If you leave an address, I can have him mail you an autograph,” Alex called after her, still smiling. “Just tell me who he should sign it to.”

“I don't want his damn autograph!” Lauren shouted back, jumping into her car.

She pulled off seconds later with tires squealing. She didn't look in the rearview mirror so she couldn't see Alex smile cunningly while standing in the doorway.

Lauren mumbled to herself as she drove. She wasn't sure if she should be angry at Cris for getting back with his ex and not telling her, or angry at herself for pushing him back into his ex's arms. Either way, she knew it was officially over between them. He had obviously moved on.