Talk of the Town (22 page)

Her mouth still tingled long after he and Kate disappeared into the elevator. She turned to find Harry watching her.

“I’m sorry, sweet pea. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I offered to clean up. You wanted David to stay.”

“No . . . yes . . . maybe.” She shook her head, roaming aimlessly around the living room, trying to figure out what was happening to her. She didn’t want even Harry to see how scared and confused David made her feel. Yet she couldn’t resist him. Didn’t want to give up the way he made her feel when they were together.

She cast Harry a stern look. “I don’t need to tell you mum’s the word, right?”

Harry struck a pose of injured innocence. “I know nothing. Except this is the first time since your unpleasant divorce you haven’t filled me in on your romantic interludes. Does that mean you’re at last putting your fears and insecurities about your ex behind you?” He looked so hopeful Rebecca hated to disappoint him.

She plastered on her pat smile and hoped he believed it. “Darling, I’m honestly not sure of anything anymore. Maybe I’m in a midlife crisis, wanting change in my life. Then the next second I want everything to be back the way it was before David came into my life and fired me. Don’t you have a pill for this?”

“If I had the cure for love I’d be as wealthy as Oprah.” Harry’s gentle, knowing smile caused tears to gather at the back of her throat. “Sweet pea, what you should do about David is one question you must answer for yourself.”

Chapter 17

O
n Saturday when George called to tell her he’d picked her favorite Asian restaurant for dinner, the Shanghai Terrace at the Peninsula hotel, Rebecca’s thoughts flew to David.
He’s staying there. Maybe I’ll see him tonight.

Of course, her thoughts didn’t have far to go, since he seemed permanently fixed in her brain. She, the notorious brown thumb, hovered over the rosebushes he’d given her, watering and feeding, like they were newborn babies.

Fall was still going out in a warm blaze of Indian summer, but she knew the weather in Chicago could change in five minutes. She worried the temperature might drop during the night and the roses would get frostbite. She thought about sending them to a nursery for the winter, the way so many Chicagoans fled to Florida to escape the cold. The roses remaining gloriously beautiful were tied up in her feelings for David and how she wanted this relationship to flourish for as long as they were both enjoying it. She didn’t want it to wither on the vine like all the others since her divorce. They had all been killed off by her lack of interest or her fears about the emotional danger of commitment. A part of her accepted that there could be no lasting commitment with David. He had made that very clear. Yet the Becky part of her, the part David had brought back to life, yearned for more, regardless of the cost to her heart.

Thoughts of David and roses, and what she should do about both, consumed her to the point she had to think for a second where she was when George helped her out of the cab in front of the Peninsula hotel.

Why did I agree to come here with George?
Feeling like an ungrateful wretch after he’d sent her so many beautiful roses, Rebecca pulled herself together. She
would
be an attentive and entertaining dinner companion tonight.

As they rode up alone in the elevator to the lobby, she smiled at him. “The Shanghai Terrace was a lovely choice, George. Thank you.”

He slid his arm around her shoulders. “Remember when we had dinner here the last time?”

She didn’t, but she kept smiling.

As she’d hoped, he took it as a yes and nodded. “I couldn’t stop looking at you. You were wearing this same dress. It matches your eyes.”

She looked down at her brown and gold beaded tulle Ralph Lauren dress and gasped in mock horror. “Please tell me I wasn’t wearing these same suede boots and cashmere scarf, too?”

“All I can remember is the dress and wanting to rip it off you,” he murmured very close to her ear.

Her heart sank into her stomach. She didn’t want it to be that kind of evening.

The elevator doors opened, and in the hustle of stepping off while people got on, Rebecca was able to extricate herself from George’s grasp. She didn’t want to encourage him or hurt him.

Like most Saturday nights in Chicago, all the great hotels were alive with partygoers. People spilled out of the lobby bar, and at the bottom of the grand staircase there was a private party going on in the ballroom. Sounds of “Celebration” were leaking through the closed door.

In contrast, tiny, intimate Shanghai Terrace was Zen-like in its peaceful, quiet atmosphere. The two sets of French doors were open onto the terrace, lit by thousands of tiny Italian lights.

While waiting for their table to be ready, Rebecca wandered out to look at the city spread twelve stories below.

George joined her with champagne. “Happy birthday, Rebecca.”

His truly handsome face, etched in moonlight, left her cold. She kept seeing David’s face and wishing she was with him.

George deserves to be here with someone who would swoon at this romantic moment.

She felt so guilty, she blew him a kiss before taking the glass of champagne. “Thank you. I hope you got my note about the roses. They were beautiful.”

“So are you.” It was his coming-in-for-the-deep- probing-kiss voice. Low. Deep. Suggestive.

Taking evasive action to discourage him, she looked around and realized they were the only people left on the terrace. “I think the lovely hostess just motioned to us. Our table must be ready.”

Trying not to appear too eager to escape, she stepped out of the shadowy intimacy of the terrace and into the softly lit ambiance of the romantic restaurant.

Directly in front of her, David and Shannon were being seated at a table.

Raw red jealousy roared through her like a Chicago L-train out of control. She drew a quick, harsh breath.

David looked up like he’d heard it.

Emotions played across his face, but she couldn’t tell if she saw embarrassment or delight in his eyes as he stood.

Following his gaze, Shannon saw Rebecca and immediately her cheeks drained of color. Horror was written all over her face.

George’s warmth and expensive aftershave curled around Rebecca’s head. “Damn, it’s your boss again,” he murmured, his breath brushing the short blond hair around her ear.

The intimate nature of the narrow restaurant left her no choice but to acknowledge them.

Plastering on her most urbane smile, Rebecca strolled forward. “What a lovely surprise.” Furious with David, but more angry at herself for this painful surge of emotion, Rebecca clung to George’s shoulder and placed a possessive hand on his chest. “You know my . . .” Batting her eyelashes, she gazed up at him. “Friend. George Crosby.”

“We’ve met.” David’s voice couldn’t have been any frostier, but he went through the polite formality of shaking George’s hand.

“Hello, George.” Shannon dropped her eyes coyly, but not before Rebecca caught the hunger she couldn’t quite disguise when she drank in George’s tall, broad-chested, narrow-hipped body. “Long time no see,” Shannon breathed in her softest voice.

“I’ve been busy. Nice to see you again, Shannon.”

In that instant, Rebecca saw her life since evil Monday flash before her eyes.
This horrible vendetta is all about George!

Rebecca mutely observed the play taking place between Shannon and George while ignoring the penetrating gaze of the man in her own drama.

“I’ll tell Christopher and Kara I ran into you.” Shannon looked up with the thinnest facade masking her vulnerability that Rebecca had ever seen. “They miss you. We all do.”

“Yeah. I’ll call them soon.” George snaked his arm around Rebecca’s shoulders in a possessive hug. “Our table is ready. We’re celebrating Rebecca’s birthday tonight.”

Her eyes locked with David’s.
We should be here together.
She felt his gaze burning into her in the few steps to the table.

She sat and stared at George. The thought that she had broken her iron-clad rule never to poach another woman’s man made her feel ill.

“You never told me you had dated Shannon.” Her voice was colder than a twenty-below-zero winter night in Chicago. If George had shivered, it wouldn’t have surprised her.

“Dated her?” George reared back in his chair, his face a study in confusion. “I hardly know her. Her best friend, Kara, is married to my old college roommate, Chris Baxter. A bunch of us hung around together until Kara started playing matchmaker with her girlfriends. She did one fix-up and the couple got married. So Kara thought she had the perfect formula, like eharmony.com.”

Smiling again, he leaned forward, making his usual move by placing his hands, palms up, on the table. “I’m very particular about who I see.”

“Behave, George. Remember, my boss is watching.” Even though David was seated at a table behind her, she could still feel his eyes boring into her. The stress was giving her a headache.

“Yeah, I know. Both of them are staring over here. What’s with that?” He drained his martini glass and motioned the waitress for another round of drinks, even though Rebecca had barely touched her champagne.

The idea of drinking made her faintly nauseous. She needed time to think. “Excuse me, George. I’m off to the powder room. I’ll be right back.”

“Should I order your favorite appetizer?” he asked, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “Oysters, right?”

In her present state, food was the last thing she wanted, but she was being such a horrid dinner companion the least she could do was let George have his oysters. She tried to appear pleased. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

The short walk from the Shanghai Terrace to the ladies’ lounge tucked beneath the grand staircase took only a few minutes. Not enough time to come to grips with the oldest cliché Rebecca knew to be absolutely true from experience.

Hell has no fury like a woman scorned.

David watched Rebecca walk out of the room, barely able to stop himself from following her. What the hell was she doing here with George? He didn’t like it. Christ, he’d wanted to grab her away from the guy on the spot. Jealousy had roared through him like a train. He’d actually heard roaring in his ears when he looked up and saw Rebecca with the guy hanging all over her.

But the expression on her face made him ache for her. She looked hurt and angry, even though she tried to hide it. He could see through her now. She didn’t like that he was here with Shannon. They should have been here together. As soon as he could decently send Shannon home, he’d make it up to Rebecca. He smiled, counting the ways.

“Are you having anything, David?”

He glanced at Shannon studying the menu. “No, just a cup of coffee.” He needed to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible and find his way to Rebecca.

“Then I’ll only have the green tea ice cream.” Shannon looked up from the menu, stared intently over at the table where George sat alone eating oysters and back down at the menu. “On second thought, I’d like the chocolate lava cake, too.”

“Have whatever you want.” Too restless to wait another second, David stood. “Excuse me, I’ll be back.”

He stalked out to find the powder room, where he figured Rebecca was heading. He saw the sign tucked under the stairs. He propped himself against the wall to wait where he also had a view of the door to the Shanghai Terrace. She couldn’t escape him. And if she didn’t come out of the powder room soon, he’d barge in and retrieve her himself.

Rebecca threw herself down on the small leather love seat in the ladies’ lounge and shut her eyes. Away from David’s overpowering presence, she felt her headache dissipate. Now she could focus in on the crystal-clear answer to why Shannon had set out to destroy her.

Shannon was in love with George. Though she had never actually
had
a relationship with George, she
still had
a fantasy about a future relationship with George.

Rebecca remembered how purely magical such a fantasy could be. She’d done the same kind of imagining when she was younger. Every romantic dream came true because in her fantasy, her dream man didn’t have any faults.

Shannon’s fantasy George was right there whenever he needed to be conjured up in her imagination. Ready and willing to worship at her feet. Shannon had probably decided what North Shore suburb they’d raise their three children in. No doubt right next door to best friends Chris and Kara.

For the first time, she truly sympathized with Shannon. Rebecca had been here and worse. She’d ignored Peter’s questionable traits to live in the fantasy world she thought she wanted in her marriage. The story she wanted it to be. Until he’d shattered it with the true reality of their relationship in such a cruel way she was forced to face the truth. She’d walked away without a fight, because she didn’t care enough.

But Shannon was willing to rip out Rebecca’s heart. All for momentarily captivating the man who had never been Shannon’s in the first place.

Certainly Freud must have something to say about women dealing with women, dealing with sexual relationships. Certainly Rebecca would have something to say to Shannon on Monday.

I’ll rip out your heart if you don’t stay away from David, who is not mine, either.
Of course, Rebecca would never expose herself so completely to Shannon. She knew exactly what would happen from this moment on, because she’d make damn sure it did.

By Monday, she would successfully and, with as little damage as possible to his ego, end this flirtation with George. Then she’d put a bandage on the beating her heart had taken tonight with David and sail forth to try to put a Band-Aid on her professional relationship with Shannon before they both bled to death.

Her resolve firmly in place, she opened the door to leave the safety of the luxurious lounge.

Propped against the wall beside a stunning painting of dogs sitting by a fire, his long legs casually crossed at the ankles, David waited for her. He straightened immediately when he saw her.

Her heart banged against her ribs, and she thrust up her chin in defiance. “I’m sorry, David. If you’re waiting for Shannon, she’s not in the lounge.”