Diamonds and Dreams (4 page)

“And were
you so concerned about my safety that you dove into the pool to rescue me
before you even waited to see if I came out by myself?”
 
He reached for a towel and dried off.

“Well—yes.”

Scowling, he
wondered if her motive was sincere or a devious reaction on her part to
ingratiate herself.
 
“Is the real reason
you acted so quickly because you care about my well-being or because my awkward
moment gave you an opportunity to score a few points with our many listeners
here?”

Resentment
flared within her.
 
“How can you doubt my
intentions when I may have just saved your life?”

“Because I’m
sure our audience was impressed by your heroic deed,” he pointed out.
 
“Since you and I could easily compete in a
popularity contest soon, it’s always nice to have the advantage in such a
situation.”

“That
thought never entered my mind when I saw you get shoved into the water.”
 
She began to raise her voice.
 
“I expected you to be glad I came to your
aid.”

“I am.”
 
He looked away from her.
 
“It’s just that I…”

“Your pride
won’t allow you to admit that there might be a real possibility that you
could’ve drowned?
 
That’s it, isn’t it?”

“You’re
impossible,” he grumbled before walking away.

How did she
know exactly what bothered him?
 
The fact
that this woman he met only recently possessed the ability to fathom his
innermost thoughts irritated Brant even more.
 
Gloomily he strutted toward the refreshment stand where he ordered a
cold drink.
 
Although the soft drink was
sweet, only a sour taste remained in his mouth after he swallowed, so he poured
the rest of the liquid onto the ground and tossed the plastic cup into the
trash can.

Glancing at
Lindsay, who sat on a beach towel as she applied sun tanning lotion onto her
slender body, he frowned.
 
Is she my friend or enemy?
 
Only time would answer the question that
tormented him like a nagging mosquito.

Lindsay wanted
to trust Brant, but couldn’t…not yet…not fully.
 
Would he resent her no matter how nice she treated him simply because
they both wanted to keep the same job?
 
And did Mike MacDonald arrange for him to fall into the pool on purpose,
or had it been an accident?
 
Mike’s
sudden disappearance afterward led her to suspect that the incident might have
been planned.
 
She reminded herself that
if Mike was childish enough to strike out at Brant because he presented
competition, then the rival deejay might also try to scheme against her since
she and Brant were on the same team.
 
In
the future, she’d have to keep her best guard up, at least until the current
ratings war ended.

CHAPTER THREE

I’ll show him who’s best at this job,
Lindsay thought, watching Brant greet
a group of teenage girls clad in bright bikinis.
 
And I
won’t need to resort to unscrupulous tactics like the one he accused me of
either.

Remembering
that
Desi
asked for volunteers to do additional work,
such as interviews and taping commercials, she decided to enlist on her own
accord.
 
If she were to prove to Brant,
and to herself, that she was the most qualified radio personality, she would
have to work harder than ever.
 
That was
exactly what she planned to do.
 
Meanwhile, since they’d work closely with each other, cooperation would
be her best course of action.

Joining
Brant, she said, “I’d like to talk with you later.”

Curious, he
replied, “Sure, but I have a few errands to run after I leave here.
 
Why don’t we talk over dinner?”

“Fine,” she
accepted his invitation.
 
“Where shall I
meet you?”

“There’s no
use in both of us driving.
 
I’ll pick you
up at your place around five-thirty.”

“Okay.
 
My address is 939
Brooksong
Lane.”

As soon as
she arrived home, Lindsay headed for the pink and blue floral-striped bedroom
where she slept and displayed her favorite porcelain pieces.
 
A cool, invigorating shower left her feeling
much better.
 
She shampooed her long hair,
the color of moonlight, and then quickly toweled herself dry before she began
the task of combing the tangles from her shoulder-length tresses.
 
In a few minutes she brushed her hair into
place and put on fresh undergarments before she slipped on a sky blue pants
outfit with a frilly white lace blouse and high-heeled white leather shoes with
open toes.
 
She took special care with
her appearance while she tried convincing herself that Brant was not the only
reason for doing this.
 
As a finishing
touch, she opened a bottle and dabbed her favorite Carolina Herrera
floral-scented perfume on her purse.
 
Then she dabbed a little fragrance at the tip of her nose so that she,
along with others, could enjoy the sweet, heady aroma.

Hearing the
doorbell peal, she grabbed her matching leather purse and went to welcome
Brant, who’d changed into brown slacks and a natural-toned sport shirt.
 
“Would you like to come in and sit down a
while before we go?”

“Sit down?”
he repeated, looking at the cream-colored living room that was in a jumbled
state of disarray.
 
Newspapers and
magazines were scattered on one end of the brown leather sofa while a pile of
freshly laundered towels waiting to be folded occupied the other end.
 
Her computer tablet, an e-reader, new outfits
she hadn’t had time to put away and other personal items lay in the almond
chair beside the sofa.
 
“Where?”

Quickly
gathering the bundle of fluffy towels, she deposited them in a corner of the
earth-toned carpet.
 
“Here,
smartie
!”

“My goodness!”
 
Brant raised one hand to his
head.
 
“How can someone so neat in
appearance be so untidy at home?”

“You know
what long hours I work.
 
I rarely have
time for housework.
 
Anyway, perfectly
clean houses make me nervous.”

“I’m
starving, so if you’re ready, we might as well leave now.”

“All right.”
 
She stepped outside, and he followed, but
then he stopped abruptly on the small front porch where the fragrance of nearby
pink roses clung to the air.

“Hey!
 
You forgot to lock your door.”

“I never
lock the doors.”

Brant
grimaced.
 
Was she so naïve and trusting
that she paid little attention to the basics of self-preservation?
 
An urge to protect her rose inside him and he
spoke sharply.
 
“More than half of the
people I talk to have been victimized by some sort of robbery or theft.
 
And you haven’t ever worried that sometime
you might return to find a dangerous character inside your house?”

“I’m not a
negative thinker like you must be.”

He laughed
cynically.
 
“Go back and lock your door.”

“Okay, if it
makes you feel better.”

“It would.”

Tucked away
in historic German Village, the Spanish restaurant, Barcelona, boasted both
metropolitan chic and Old World European charm.
 
Over a hundred years old, the brick building’s best secret was a hidden
garden where sweet-scented flowers, tinkling fountains, round tables with blue
umbrellas and lovely ironwork railings made Lindsay feel like she’d
time-traveled to the real Spain far across the sea.
 
Inside the original tin ceiling revealed a
couple layers of paint.
 
She nearly
tripped on the uneven, wooden floor, but steadied herself as she passed the oak
bar and admired stained glass windows cut into full brick walls.

“The Spanish
night lies before us,” Brant said, helping her to slide into her chair after
the hostess seated them at a quiet table in the corner.
 
A waiter took their order,
then
brought their drinks.
 
Sipping a tall
glass of iced tea, Lindsay announced, “We need to discuss our working
relationship.”

He
nodded.
 
“As you wish,
my dear.
 
I’d hoped for a little
small talk…getting to know you better, but I see you have other things on your
mind.
 
Business, as
usual.”

“Since we’ll
spend much time together in the future, we should make a few compromises and
strive for better cooperation with each other.”

“You want a
fresh start?
 
I’ll try if you will.
 
Arguing has always struck me as a terrible
waste of time and energy.”

She
smiled.
 
“I didn’t think it would be so
easy to convince you to accept my idea.”

“Are you
hinting that I’m difficult to get along with?”

“A little.”

Instead of
offending him, her honesty amused Brant.
 
At least here was one woman who voiced an honest opinion without concern
for the impression she made upon him instead of flattering him to gain his
favor as so many other females tried to do in the past.

Soon the
waiter arrived with
Filete
a la
Parilla
– grilled beef filet, local potato hash, crispy onions and sweet corn
coulis.
 
“Delicious,” she said after a
few bites of her beef filet.

Brant was
unusually quiet as he studied Lindsay.
 
She didn’t appear to be the type of person to hold a grudge.
 
He was aware that he hurt her feelings this
afternoon, but now there was no indication of this in her serene manner.

“If I
appeared rude at the pool today, I didn’t mean to be ungrateful.”
 
He felt uncomfortable and ashamed that he
reprimanded her when there was a slight chance that her only concern had been
for his safety.
 
“You see, every time I’m
near water the painful memories about Dan have a way of rushing back and this
affects my mood, usually making me disagreeable.”

“I
understand.
 
Years ago I, too, suffered
from the loss of a loved one.
 
The pain
never really disappears.”

She was
right.
 
He didn’t expect her to be so
easy to talk to and gracious.
 
Her
thoughts seemed almost attuned to his; it was amazing.

After finishing dessert—a slice of sourdough bread pan fried
in extra virgin olive oil and topped with bittersweet chocolate, then finished
with a little julienned Fuji apple—Brant left a generous tip on the table, then
escorted Lindsay outside.
 
“It seems a shame
to end this delightful interlude just when we started to make peace.”
 
His words held a tone of genuine sincerity.

“We could take in a movie at the Palace Theatre.”
 
She forgot her earlier plans to keep her
distance from him.

“I thought the Palace was only used for stage shows and
operas since it’s been restored.”

“Mostly it is, but classic movies are also shown there.”

“What’s playing today?” he inquired.

“An old Humphrey Bogart film.
 
Would you like to go?”

He looked sideways at her and forced the corner of his mouth
to twitch.
 
“Sure thing,
sweetheart.”

“Bravo!”
 
She clapped
her hands as he held the car door open for her and she slid onto her seat.
 
“You sounded just like Bogart.
 
I see you have other talents besides radio.”

“Yes, and I’d love to show you all of them sometime.”

Lindsay chatted easily with Brant as they drove toward West
Broad Street where the ornately decorated Palace Theatre was located in the
tall Leveque Tower.
 
After parking his
Jaguar in an adjoining lot, Brant led Lindsay into the Palace’s mezzanine salon
where she waited as he purchased tickets.
 
A statue of a girl drinking from a shell graced an elaborate fountain
that trickled with water and the expression of the lass’ stone face smiled
almost knowingly at Lindsay.

“Want some popcorn or a soft drink?” Brant asked when he
returned.

“No, thanks.”

He offered his arm to her.
 
“Then come, my queen.”