Set Up in SoHo (The Matchmaker Chronicles) (28 page)

“I just hate to think that I caused you any more pain.”

“But you didn’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m fine. Honestly.”

“So score one for the good guys,” Vanessa said. “I know she’s your cousin, Ethan, but I’ve never really liked her.”

“She seems to have that effect on people,” he observed dryly.

“So where’s the man of the hour?” I asked, changing the subject. Not that I was against a little Diana bashing, but she was Ethan’s cousin and I hated the idea of us continuing to run down a member of his family—even if it was Diana.

“He’s over there with my father and his cronies.” She nodded toward one of the bars and a crowd of older men, Mark at the center, holding court. “Considering the age difference, it’s remarkable how well he fits in.” Not to mention the fact that Mark made his fortune strictly on his own without the benefit of an East Coast pedigree.

“Actually, Mark can run circles around most of them,” Ethan said. “I suspect they’re salivating just to have the chance to pick his brain.”

“He is pretty amazing, isn’t he?” Vanessa asked, smiling as she watched her husband-to-be. “But they do seem to be hovering and, other attributes aside, Mark isn’t the most patient of men. What do you say we go and rescue him?”

“Good idea,” Ethan said. “Andi?”

“I’ll be there in a minute. I want to try and find Bethany. She’s here somewhere.”

“All right,” he nodded, dropping a kiss on the top of my head, “but don’t be too long.”

I nodded as they moved off to rescue Mark. I’d lied, actually. I wasn’t looking for Bethany. I just wanted a moment alone. The run-in with Diana had affected me more than I really wanted to admit.

Sucking in a deep breath, I headed toward a quiet corner and a potted palm. Very cliché, but exactly what I needed—a place to gather my scattered thoughts. Once there, I closed my eyes, waiting for calm to descend. Nothing happened. But then what had I expected? Advice from on high?
Hate Diana. Love Ethan. Forget about Dillon?

“Andi?”

Speak of the devil. With a sigh I opened my eyes and turned slowly toward the sound of Dillon’s voice, bracing myself for the worst. So much for finding refuge.

He stood in front of me, rocking on the soles of his feet, his discomfort obvious. “You, ah, look really beautiful tonight.”

I searched his face, looking for some sign that he was leading me on, but I saw only sincerity. “Thanks. I’m happy.”

“Are you? Really happy, I mean?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“With Ethan.”

The name hung between us for a moment, and then I nodded, realizing that it was the truth. Ethan did make me happy.

“I see,” he said, staring down at his immaculately polished wingtips.

“So where’s Diana?” I asked, purposely keeping my tone light as I tried to ignore the tension stretching between us.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Mingling somewhere. I sort of ditched her. I wanted to find you and apologize for what she said earlier.”

“It’s a nice thought. But I hardly think Diana’s on board with that idea. And she’s really the only one who can apologize.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen. She’s really got a thing when it comes to you,” he said, looking even more uncomfortable. “I’ve no idea why. Something about your success, I think.”

“My success?” There was a novel thought. Diana Merreck being jealous of me. I dismissed the notion as the overworking of Dillon’s very masculine mind. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter. I didn’t come over here to talk about Diana.”

“You can’t have Bentley, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“I don’t want the dog, Andi.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t have guessed that from your phone calls. Honest to God, I was afraid you were going to swoop in and kidnap him or something.”

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” he said, his discomfort still apparent. “I should have let you have him from the very beginning. He’s always been more your dog than mine. But it was a connection and I guess I’d hoped . . . Look, the real reason I came over here was to talk about us.”

“There isn’t an us, Dillon.”

“Maybe not like that. But we do still share a history. And surely that’s not completely wiped out?”

“If you’re asking if we can still be friends, the answer is no. At least not now. You really hurt me.”

“I know. And believe me, if I could take it back, I would.”

I wasn’t sure what he was saying and I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know. My life was confusing enough as it was.

“Look, Dillon, I appreciate your wanting to apologize for Diana. It means a lot. And I’m relieved to know that we’re not going to have custody issues when it comes to Bentley. But I don’t really think there’s anything else for us to talk about.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, tucking his hands into his pockets. It was a gesture I’d always thought charming, but surprisingly, in the moment, I felt nothing.

“Actually,” I said, “I am.” And with a half smile, I turned and walked away.

The fact was that at that moment there was only one man I wanted to talk to. And it most definitely wasn’t Dillon.

Chapter 22

As I searched the crowd for Ethan, I marveled at how nothing really had changed. People were still laughing. Champagne was still flowing. And yet despite all the sameness, everything was different, in that indefinable way life has of shifting sometimes without any warning at all.

One minute you see the world as completely blue and the next minute it’s all greens and purples. Okay, maybe that’s not the best analogy. But you get the idea. I’d been worrying so much about losing Dillon that I’d completely missed the fact that I’d
found
Ethan.

And, at least temporarily, lost him again. Although it was impossible to see anything much in this crush.

“Hey, you,” Clinton said, appearing at my elbow, carrying two vodka tonics. “I saw you talking to Dillon and figured you might could use this.”

“Just what the doctor ordered,” I sighed, accepting the drink gratefully.

“Are you all right?” Clinton asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

“I’m fine.” I smiled up at him. “Better than fine, actually.”

“You sure?” He frowned, clearly not certain what to make of my newfound euphoria. “I debated about interrupting you but figured under the circumstances you were probably better off on your own. So I toddled off to get your drink and then hightailed it back in case you needed me to pick up the pieces.”

“Nothing to pick up,” I assured him. “Dillon just wanted to apologize for Diana’s behavior.”

“I’m not sure that an apology would cover it. Even if it came from Diana herself.”

“That’s pretty much what I said. But even so, you have to admit it was a nice gesture.”

“I suppose.” He shrugged, his loyalty touching. “So is that all he wanted?”

“He gave me full custody of Bentley,” I said, attempting to duck the question.

“Andi—,” Clinton prompted, not about to let me get away with dodging.

“Fine,” I said, with just a hint of exasperation. “He said he was feeling badly about how things went down between us.”

“Badly as in ‘I want you back’?” Clinton frowned, putting voice to my earlier suspicions.

“I don’t know. I shut him down. Told him that I’m happy with my life the way it is now, and that there really wasn’t anything for us to discuss. And then I came to look for Ethan.” I took a sip of my vodka and tonic, the bittersweet concoction suiting my mood perfectly.

“Last I saw he was talking to Mark.” Clinton waved a hand in the direction of the champagne fountain. “They were looking really intense and bandying words like ‘leveraged’ and ‘synergy.’”

“Sounds less than fascinating.”

“Exactly,” Clinton said, his expression smug. “Anyway, there was an older man there as well. Distinguished looking.”

“Gray suit. White hair. Impressive eyebrows?”

“And a conspicuously understated necktie.” Clinton nodded. “Sounds like you know who he is.”

“Walter Mathias. Ethan’s grandfather. Ethan introduced me earlier.”

“I should have recognized him. His picture is certainly in the papers often enough.”

“At least he only graces the financial pages. Unlike Althea, who seems to have taken up permanent residence on Page Six. Did you have to run the gauntlet outside?”

“Kind of hard to avoid it. Fortunately, the paparazzi aren’t all that interested in the opinions of an old restaurateur.”

“I think you’re underrepresenting yourself.”

“Well, someone did ask me what Althea was wearing to the wedding.”

“And I’m sure you had an educated guess.”

“Dior,” he sighed. “But it’s not like it was a trick question. Anyone who’s anyone knows she always favors Dior.”

“Actually, I hadn’t a clue. And she’s my aunt. I’m telling you, it’s a gift.”

“I hardly think your not knowing something about Althea makes me a prodigy. I’m just more observant. And clearly you’re not all that interested in anything having to do with Althea.”

“Probably true,” I admitted. “But this is a party and I’m not here to talk about my aunt. Or my feelings about her. So where’s Bethany? I haven’t seen her yet.”

“She’s here,” he said. “Arrived the same time as I did. We started out together, but I lost her somewhere after her third cosmo.”

“Nothing like a couple of cocktails to dull one’s pain.”

“You said it, not me. To be honest, I’m not sure she had any business coming tonight.”

“Sometimes it helps to just try and forget. Put the bad stuff behind you.”

“As long as you don’t make a fool of yourself in the process.”

“I take it there’s something more than the cosmos?”

“Alexander Kerensky. She’s been in the corner with him for the past half hour.”

“But he’s—”

“Lower than slime?” Clinton finished for me. “Exactly my thoughts.”

Alexander Kerensky was a notorious playboy. Of questionable breeding, he was known for bedding and abandoning women of a certain age, all of them with money. Bethany wasn’t his type, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t above plying his charms.

“Is Michael here?”

“I’ve no idea. But I’m hoping not. If there’s any chance at the two of them working things out, it isn’t going to survive Michael seeing Bethany play kissy face with Alexander.”

“I still can’t understand why Michael was so quick to end things. It wasn’t as if she wanted to break up.”

“I guess in his mind, not wanting to move in was the same thing.”

“Well, making out with Alexander Kerensky isn’t going to solve anything. Maybe I should talk to her?”

“I think talking might actually just make things worse. Why don’t you just let me keep an eye on her? I promise I’ll keep her from doing anything she’ll regret.”

“Okay, but I’m here if you need me.”

“You just enjoy the evening,” he said with a suggestive arch of his eyebrows.

“Ethan, you mean.”

“Well, if the shoe fits . .

“You’re incorrigible,” I said, slapping him playfully on the shoulder.

“And proud of the fact. But as much as I’d like to stay and trade insults with you, I think our Bethany needs me.” He tipped his head toward the corner, where she was only halfheartedly fending off Alexander’s carefully honed moves. “Clinton to the rescue.” He laughed, then made a beeline for Bethany.

I watched for a moment as he effortlessly separated Bethany from Alexander’s embrace and, gesturing wildly, began some story or another as he pulled her away, leaving Alexander fuming in the corner.

I smothered a laugh, and turned back toward the fountain. Ethan was visible now, still deep in conversation. Only the group was larger now. Mark, Walter, Vanessa’s father, and a couple of other men I didn’t recognize.

Ethan, as if sensing my attention, looked up and smiled. My heart rate immediately ratcheted upward. The man was giving me palpitations and he was standing halfway across a very crowded ballroom. Clearly, I had it bad. With a half wave, I tilted my head toward Vanessa and Cybil chatting by the bar. He followed my gaze, nodded, and then, with another quick smile, re-turned to his conversation.

I took two steps toward Vanessa and company and then did an about-face. I’d had enough small talk for the evening. In all honesty, I’d had enough talk, period. The best thing to do was head for the ladies’ room and a quick freshen up, then hopefully Ethan would be ready to call it a night. At least as far as the party was concerned.

Smiling, I made my way out of the ballroom.

The hallway outside was quiet and I stopped for a moment to catch a breath. The Pierre has always reminded me of a French palace, elegance and refinement surrounding one with a feeling of luxury and good taste. The perfect place for a tryst or an illicit affair. Except that the hotel sits on one of Manhattan’s busiest corners. Shaking my head at my flight into romantic nonsense, I started to turn the corner into the main hallway, but stopped at the sound of voices.

Diana and her friend Kitty Wheeler.

Just what I needed—the devil and her cohort in crime. I wasn’t about to turn tail and run (although I’ll admit the idea had its merits), but taking Diana on wasn’t the best of ideas, either. This was a public hotel and there were at least three dozen reporters camped outside. Better to just hold my head high and hopefully sail right past them without engaging.

On the other hand, maybe Bethany needed me.

I started to turn around, but something in the sound of their voices made me stop. Careful not to make any noise, I leaned forward, listening.

“Oh my God,” Diana said. “You’re never going to believe what I just found out. You know how weirded out I’ve been about my cousin seeing Andi Sevalas?”

Okay, this was the stuff of nightmares. They were actually talking about me. I pressed closer to the wall, knowing I would probably regret eavesdropping, but totally incapable of stopping myself.

“Of course,” Kitty said. “If it hadn’t been for him being involved with her, your plan to ruin her television show would have worked like a charm.”

“And my grandfather would have seen just how brilliant my business acumen really is. I still can’t believe he took Ethan’s side over mine. It’s not like I did anything illegal. I just suggested that DuBois might be happier if he worked with Mathias instead of doing a spot on that insipid little show.”