Once Upon a Project (26 page)

Chapter 41

B
ack at Andy's town house, the girls went upstairs to their room. Andy poured two glasses of wine, and he and Pat went to sit out on the lighted patio.

His movements seemed a little stiff to her, but she wondered if she was imagining it.

“Your daughters are charming, Andy, just like you said,” she said, meaning it. She felt foolish for worrying. She wanted to ask if he'd introduced them to many of the women in his life since his divorce, but she didn't know how she could phrase the question without sounding nosy. And she wasn't about to bring up the subject of Kaitlyn's crush.

“They're my two sweethearts. I think their mother and I did a great job raising them.”

“You've been divorced for a long time, haven't you?”

“About seven years, which is half of Kaitlyn's life.”

“How do you feel about your ex's second husband?”

“Uh, he's all right.”

He didn't seem to want to say anything else, so Pat didn't press the issue. For a few moments they sat companionably, enjoying the lights of the city on this clear summer night. Finally, Andy spoke.

“That was him, wasn't it?”

Pat decided against pretending she didn't know what he meant. “Ricky and I used to date back in high school. He wanted to marry me.”

“And your parents broke it up when you were nineteen.”

“Yes.”

“Thirty years ago.”

He had an almost mocking look in his eye that made her uncomfortable. “How did you know it was him?”

“The shock in his eyes when he saw you. The way you got so jumpy. I can understand his being caught off guard at seeing you with me. A long time ago, your parents made it clear to him that they wanted you to settle down with a black man. He probably didn't think you'd ever go against their wishes and get involved with someone like me. But I don't understand why you couldn't carry on a simple conversation without being so nervous. It makes me think it's not over, at least not for you, even after all this time.”

“That's ridiculous. It ended years ago, and that was that.” She watched as he took a slug of his wine, not acknowledging her denial, and a sinking stomach told her something was terribly wrong. “Andy?” she prompted. “Are you okay?”

“I don't know, Pat. I saw you react with a lot more feeling than you should have for a love affair that ended such a long time ago.” He drained his glass. “Why don't I take you home? I know you've got a lot to do before your trip. We'll talk about it when you get back.”

She swallowed hard. When she got
back?
She wasn't leaving until Wednesday, and she'd be gone for a week and a half. Did he mean he didn't intend to have any contact with her until she returned?

Or was he breaking up with her, all because he felt she showed too much emotion when Ricky stopped by their table? How foolish was that? She'd been nervous, that's all. She feared Ricky would think she was flaunting her relationship with Andy in front of him out of spite.

Her glass was only half empty, but she pushed away from the table and stood up. “I'll just get my purse,” she said coldly.

She might feel like her life was falling apart, but she'd be damned if she'd let him see her despair.

Chapter 42

 

G
race woke up early, as she usually did. She felt like she'd been caught in a stampede. Every part of her body ached.

Eric snored beside her, his feet hanging over the queen-sized bed.
Sleep, you bastard,
she thought as she remembered why her skin felt so tender.

After the short but exciting sex-capade in his living room, they went to his bedroom and started again, but this time Eric had been uncharacteristically rough, slapping her ass with brute force and pushing into her like he expected to strike oil. The little love bites he usually planted on her nipples felt instead like he was tickling them with razor blades, and while she gave him head he grabbed her hair and bobbed her head up and down until his penis practically tickled her tonsils. It was as if he was expressing all his frustrations during sex.

And she had a good idea of what had him so bothered. Her job. Her car. Her condo. Her travels. And, most of all, her unwillingness to share with him what he perceived as her good fortune, rather than the fruits of years of hard work.

The future for their relationship didn't look promising.

 

 

Grace returned from vacation on Monday and went back to work on Wednesday. She could have used another day off, but she'd already used the bulk of her vacation time for the cruise, which had been every bit as fantastic as she'd hoped. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to deal with anything other than catching up on her e-mail.

As she entered the building she saw a shadow in the glass behind her, and she held the door open. It pleased her to see that the shadow was the muscular form of Calvin Pendleton.

She'd seen him only occasionally since first meeting him two months earlier. Grace usually started coming in to work earlier after Memorial Day so she could wrap up her workday earlier and take advantage of the extended daylight hours. While she would welcome the opportunity to get to know Calvin better—especially now that Eric was losing his luster—she hadn't been willing to sacrifice the summer season to do it. Summers in Chicago were way too short. She saw no reason why Calvin wouldn't still be around in the fall.

Seeing him in midsummer was like a gift. “Good morning!” she said cheerfully.

“Morning.” His eyes swept over her body appreciatively. “I haven't seen you in the gym lately,” he said, “but obviously you've been going.”

“Thanks.” Unlike Eric's first assessment of her at Junior's Bar, Calvin looked her over in a subtle, complimentary manner that made her feel all warm and tingly, rather than like a stripper. They fell into step together as they both headed for the cafeteria. “I usually try to get in earlier between June and August. I'm late this morning, but I've been on vacation the last two weeks and it's my first day back.”

“I thought you looked a little tanned. Where'd you go?”

“On a cruise through the Mediterranean.”

“Nice.”

“Are you still working out regularly?”

“Absolutely. I'm usually out of there by five, though.”

In the cafeteria she headed for the fruit bar, while he walked toward the grill, where the eggs and meats were on display. They called out friendly farewells.

Grace glimpsed him on the cashier line a few people ahead of her. She watched as he joked with the cashier. God, he was handsome. Maybe she should stay a little later tonight and get to the gym while he was there.

 

 

Grace was working in her office when her administrative assistant, Carla, tapped on her door. “Something's come up, Grace.”

Shit.
She'd been hoping for a nice, quiet day of catch-up. “What is it?”

“It's serious. There's trouble brewing in Brazil. A patient taking our new antihypertensive died, and his lawyer is charging that his death is a direct result of the medication. Jeff Post is putting together a meeting at noon to discuss the matter, and Marlon wants to see you this afternoon at three.”

Jeff Post was the global head of the hypertension division, and Marlon—no last name necessary—was Marlon Kellerman, the president of the company. So much for her quiet day. A public relations nightmare was unfolding in the Southern Hemisphere.

She glanced at her watch. It was already eleven-twenty. “I guess I'd better get some lunch now, if I want to eat.”

“They're having the meeting catered. It's scheduled to run until two.”

“All right. I'd better see what I can find out about what's going on down there.”

Carla took this as her cue to leave, thoughtfully closing the office door.

 

 

Grace arrived at the conference room at two minutes before twelve, just as the previous group using the room filed out. She joined in the conversation of the other early arrivals, discussing the possible ramifications of the customer's death if it turned out to be linked to their product. Of course, the drug had undergone the same rigorous testing as any to be approved by the FDA, but it was still brand new. Anything could go wrong.

A white-smocked fortyish woman from Catering arrived, her petite size belying the weight of the two three-tiered carts she'd wheeled over from the cafeteria, pushing one and pulling the other. The sandwiches, salads, and desserts probably didn't weigh much, but the canned sodas and bottled water had to be hefty.

The people closest to the door began to go inside. She smiled when she saw Calvin approaching. She'd forgotten that he was a member of the hypertension team. It would be nice to work with him on this.

“Long time, no see,” she joked with a smile. “Are you in this meeting, too?”

He looked a little embarrassed. “Uh . . . no.”

At the moment Grace noticed Calvin wasn't carrying a notepad, the Catering employee asked him, “Are you the person who's going to help me set up?”

“Excuse me,” Calvin said to Grace. He turned to the petite woman. “Yes. We have to hurry. It's a closed-door meeting, so they can't begin until we're out of here.”

Grace watched, dumbfounded, as Calvin and the woman disappeared inside the meeting room with the carts.

“I appreciate this,” the woman was saying to Calvin. “Normally for an order this large they send two of us, but it's our busiest time downstairs, and we couldn't spare anyone else.”

“I understand. This all came up at the last minute,” Calvin said.

Grace took a deep breath. The man she'd planned to replace Eric with was an
administrative assistant?
She felt like someone had sucked all the air out of her.

Nevertheless, she had a job to do. Certain that her facial expression gave nothing away, she walked in the room and took a seat at the large conference table.

 

 

When Grace got home she dialed Eric. She'd called him when she got in from the airport on Monday, but she deliberately kept that conversation short, making a date to meet him at Panera Bread on Saturday for lunch. She knew he was expecting to go to her place or his afterward for a sex-filled afternoon, but after the way he worked her over the last time she saw him, she'd decided to break it off with him. Pat was right. Better to be by herself than with someone who resented what she'd worked long and hard to accomplish. Now, because of the developments in São Paolo, she'd have to postpone the inevitable another week. She'd been looking forward to making a clean break and wasn't happy about the delay, but it couldn't be helped.

“Hi, Eric,” she said when he answered.

“Hey, baby! What's up? I know—you decided you can't wait until Saturday to see me and you want me to come over now.”

She cringed, grateful he couldn't see her face. “Actually, I wanted to let you know that I won't be able to see you this weekend. I have to go to Brazil.”

“Brazil? But you just got back from vacation.”

“This isn't vacation; it's work. We've got a major problem going on down there, and the company president wants me down there. I leave tomorrow.”

“Damn.” Eric paused. “You been there before?”

“Yes.”

“Where
haven't
you been, Grace?”

She said the first thing that came to her mind. “Antarctica.”

“Yeah, well, I hear they've got a lousy climate. I didn't know you speak Spanish.”

Grace had a fleeting thought of Danny and his relocation to San Juan. “I don't. But they speak
Portuguese
in Brazil.”

“Whatever. They gonna be having Carnival down there, people dancing in the streets and shit?”

“Eric, Carnival is before Lent. Just like Mardi Gras in New Orleans.” Good Lord, did he not know
anything?
São Paolo was hardly a picnic. The last time she went she was transported to and from her hotel in a bulletproof vehicle. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know. I've got to get packed. I'll see you when I get back, okay?”

“When will that be?”

“Tuesday.”

“All right. I guess you still don't need me to keep an eye on your place and your car while you're gone, huh?”

“No, I'll be doing the same as I did when I went away.” The company was providing airport transfers via limousine, as it always did for staff who traveled, but she doubted Eric knew enough about corporate culture to know that. Her car would stay in the garage.

“Grace, do you have somethin' you want to say to me?”

She frowned. “Something like what?”

“You've been gone for almost two weeks. Now you call and say that you're goin' out of town again. On a day's notice. Who the hell does that? Then you act like you don't want me anywhere near your house or your car. And you're always throwing all this shit about your travels up in my face.”

“This is legit, Eric. If I wanted to dump you I would come out and tell you.” Grace viewed his outburst as a way to try to shame her into giving him a spare set of keys to her condo and Mercedes. How could he say she threw her travels in his face when she downplayed it by hiding the artwork she'd purchased abroad before he came to her place?

“Yeah, well, I've got a bad feeling about it.”

“Well, I'm sorry to hear that,” she said coldly. “But right now it's most pressing for me to get ready for my trip. I'll call you when I get back.” She hung up.

As Grace packed, she asked herself why she hadn't just broken it off with him on the phone. Did she really feel he deserved a face to face after the things he did to her in bed that night? Sure, she'd felt better after she took a hot shower, which soothed her muscles. There were no marks anywhere on her skin, but she felt like she'd been mildly assaulted just the same. He'd stopped just short of biting her damn clit.

Of course, now that she'd learned that Calvin's job was even more low ranking than Eric's, she had no prospects at all. But Pat's refusal to date anyone not on a similar economic plane with her had paid off in the form of Andy Keindl.

Grace could only hope she would be as fortunate.