Kitabı oku: «The Complete Boardroom Collection», sayfa 48
More comfortable, he returned to the kitchen and retrieved the wineglasses. He moved down the hallway to the living room. Inside the doorway, he paused.
Kaitlin seemed to have made herself at home. She’d kicked off her strappy shoes and curled her legs beneath her, knees bent and pressed together, stocking-clad feet pushing up against the arm of his sofa. Her hair was drying to a wild, glossy halo that framed her smooth skin. And her face was a study in concentration, red lips pursed, green eyes slightly squinted as she read her way through the pages.
She looked good in his living room, somehow settled and at home.
Funny, he’d seen her dressed up, dressed down, dancing with laughter and crackling with anger. But he’d never caught her unaware. And somehow he had the feeling this was the real woman, halfway between Vegas glitter and Saturday casual, her energy turned inward, mind working. He sensed a calm intelligence in her that he hadn’t noticed before.
He must have moved, because she finally noticed him.
“Wine?” he offered, raising one of the glasses, walking forward, pretending he hadn’t been staring.
“You’re right,” she told him, letting the papers drop into her lap, stretching an arm across the back of the sofa in an obviously unintended, sensual gesture.
“Never thought I’d hear you say that.” But there was no bite to his words. He’d meant to mock her, but it came off as a gentle joke.
She flipped the document back to the first page and set it in front of her on the coffee table. “I’ll sign it.”
“Really?” Too late, he realized he sounded surprised. To cover, he handed her the glass of wine.
She accepted the glass and shrugged. “It’s exactly what you said it was.”
“How about that,” he couldn’t help but tease.
“Shocked the heck out of me,” she returned, doing a double take, seeming to note he’d shed the jacket and tie.
He sat down on the other end of the couch. “Then, cheers.” He lifted his glass.
She allowed a small smile, which made her prettier than ever. She leaned toward him, holding out her glass to clink it against his. The motion gave him a glimpse of her cleavage, and he was forced to drag his gaze away from her soft breasts.
They each took a sip.
Then her smile grew, and an impish dimple appeared in her right cheek. “Tough day at the office, dear?” She mimicked what was obviously a wifely voice of concern.
Something inside him responded warmly to the banter. “You know—” he paused for effect “—the usual.”
“Is this weird?” she asked, eyes narrowing.
“Yes.”
“Because it feels weird. I mean, on a scale of one to, well, weird, it’s weird.”
“Did that make sense inside your head?”
She took another drink, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m sure you got the gist of it.”
“I did. And I agree. It’s weird.”
“We’re married.” She said the words in a tone of wonder.
“Yes, we are.” Zach took a healthy swig from his own glass. He’d never been married. And even if he had, he couldn’t help but doubt anything could prepare a man for this particular situation.
She paused, and then her voice went soft. “I’m not trying to ruin your life, you know.”
He didn’t like it that she seemed so vulnerable. It was better when she was acting tough and feisty. Then, it was easier to view her as a combatant. And he was beginning to admit fighting with Kaitlin was much safer than joking with her.
He struggled to put a hard note back in his voice. “I guess it was the blackmail scheme that had me confused.”
Her green eyes were clear, open and honest. “I’m not looking to gain anything.”
He made a show of skeptically raising his brows.
“I’m looking to set things right,” she assured him.
He tried to sound doubtful. “Is that how this is playing out inside your head?”
“Once I’ve earned my way back into the good graces of my profession, you’ll be home free. I want a career, Zach, not your company.”
He had to admit, he believed her. He understood she was trying to make her own life better. Her methods weren’t the most noble from where he was standing. But he did accept the fact that he was collateral damage.
She leaned forward and flipped to the signature page of the document. “Do you have a pen?”
“Sure.” He rose and crossed to the small rosewood desk that held a telephone and a reading lamp.
“I’m meeting Lindsay for dinner,” Kaitlin explained from behind him. “I don’t want to be too late.”
“I have a date,” he lied, extracting a pen from the small desk drawer. He’d call Dylan and get the number of the pretty helicopter pilot just as soon as Kaitlin left.
“You’re cheating on me?”
Her outburst surprised him, but when he turned, he saw the laughter lurking in her jade-green eyes.
“Yes,” he answered easily, not about to rise to the bait. “I’ve been cheating on you since the wedding.”
“Men,” she huffed in pretend disgust, folding her arms across her chest, accenting her breasts.
Focusing beyond her lovely figure, he shrugged an apology on behalf of his gender as he crossed the room. “What can I say?”
She accepted the pen, bending her head to sign the papers. “Well, I’ve been faithful.”
He waited for the punch line.
It didn’t come.
“Seriously?” he asked.
She finished her signature with a flourish, declining to answer.
But he couldn’t let it go. “You haven’t had sex with anybody since Vegas?”
“What do you mean since Vegas.” She sat up straight, handing the pen back in his direction. “Who do you think I had sex with in Vegas?”
He accepted it, feeling a twinge of remorse. “I didn’t mean it that—”
“The only person I was with in Vegas was you and we didn’t—” The amusement suddenly fled her eyes, replaced by uncertainty. “We, uh, didn’t, did we?”
Okay, this was interesting. “You don’t remember?” He might not have total recall of the entire night’s events. But he knew they hadn’t made love.
Then the vulnerability was back, and she slowly shook her head. “I barely remember the wedding.”
He was tempted to string her along, but quickly changed his mind. The cursed vulnerability again. It made him want to protect her, not mess with her mind.
“We didn’t,” he assured her.
She tilted her head to one side. “Are you sure? Do you remember every minute?”
Their gazes locked for a couple of heartbeats.
“I’d remember that.”
“So, you can’t say for sure…”
“Has this been bothering you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Because it sounds like—”
Suddenly, she snagged her bag and hooked it over her shoulder, coming to her feet. “It’s not bothering me. If we did it, we did it.”
“We didn’t.” Not that he hadn’t wanted to. Not that he wouldn’t love to. Not that he wasn’t still—
Damn it. He had to stop going there.
“Because I’m not pregnant or anything,” she said, slipping into her sexy shoes and straightening her clingy dress. The action pulled it tighter against her lithe body, and it was more than he could do not to let his gaze take a tour.
He summoned his strength. “Kaitlin. I think we need to leave Vegas back in Vegas.”
“We tried.”
That was true.
“But it didn’t work,” she pointed out.
“Blame Elvis,” he drawled, fixing his gaze firmly on her face and telling himself to leave it right there.
Her smile grew. “You’re funnier than you let on, you know?”
He gritted his teeth against her softening expression, those lips, those eyes, that tousled hair. It would be so easy to pull her into his arms and kiss her.
But for the first time in his life, he ignored the powerful urge.
“Thanks for signing the papers,” he offered gruffly.
“Thanks for giving me a job.”
The specter of her previous designs appeared inside his head. He didn’t know what he’d do if she insisted on resurrecting them.
Now might not be the time. Then again, now might be the perfect time. They seemed to have come to a truce. Maybe he should take advantage of it.
“You know that building has been in my family for five generations,” he declared.
“That doesn’t mean it can’t look good.”
“There are a lot of different ways to make it look good.” Classic ways. Functional ways. They were a transportation company, for goodness’ sake, not an art museum.
He wished he could interest her in using the Hugo Rosche plans as a jumping-off point. Hugo had taken over after he’d canceled Hutton Quinn. Zach had paid a penalty to get out of the contract. But Hugo had left on good terms with a reference and several prospective clients set up by Zach. Hugo’s plans made the most of the existing layout, and they’d only take about six months to implement.
“And I’m going to find the best one,” she breezily promised. Her bravado frightened him.
“It’s my heritage you’re playing with, you know.”
Her expression faltered for a split second, something close to pain flitting through her eyes. But she recovered instantly, and the confidence returned. “Then, you’re a very lucky man, Zach Harper. Because I’m going to make your heritage a whole lot better.”
Three
The following week, Kaitlin and Lindsay made their way into the bright pool of sunshine on the roof of the Harper Transportation building. The cement was solid beneath Kaitlin’s feet, and the building seemed to fit seamlessly into its surroundings. Modern high-rises towered over on two sides, while across Liberty, they studied a row of dignified—if chipped—lion statues, and looked farther to the river.
The roof was square, blocked on one side by the service level and staircase. It was bordered by a three-foot-high concrete wall. Years of rain had stained it, but the mottled color evoked a certain nobility. Kaitlin couldn’t help wonder what it would be like to work under the same roof as five generations of your ancestors.
Her mother had died when she was born. Her father was “unknown,” not even a name on a birth certificate. And if nineteen-year-old Yvette Saville had had relatives somewhere nobody ever found them. All Kaitlin had of her own heritage was a single, frayed and blurry photo of her mother, and the address of the rooming house where Yvette had been living prior to Kaitlin’s birth.
While her anger and frustration toward Zach had diminished as the days went by, she couldn’t seem to fight off the spurt of jealousy that bubbled up when she thought about his heritage. He’d had such a safe and privileged upbringing. While she was on the outside looking in, he’d been wrapped in the loving embrace of his wealthy family, wanting for nothing, experiencing the finest life had to offer.
“Explain to me again why we couldn’t go straight to Rundall’s for lunch?” called Lindsay. She’d fallen behind in her higher heels and straight skirt.
“See that?” Kaitlin turned to walk backward, banishing her negative thoughts as she swept her arm, pointing toward the deep blue Hudson River. “If I can get a permit to add three stories, the view will be amazing.”
A steady hum of traffic rose up to meet them, while barges slipped by against the tree-dotted New Jersey shoreline.
“Will that be expensive?” asked Lindsay, as she picked her way across the rough surface, steadying herself against a mechanical box, then an air-conditioning unit.
“Wildly,” said Kaitlin, picturing the expanse of glass and the marble floors.
Lindsay flashed a wide grin as she came abreast of Kaitlin near the edge of the roof. “That’s my girl. Not that Harper will ever notice. The man has more money than God.”
“It would seem,” Kaitlin agreed, thinking back to the fine art and antiques that decorated his huge penthouse apartment.
“I’ve been checking,” said Lindsay in a conspiratorial tone, swiping back her stray blond hairs in the freshening breeze. “Did you know it started with the pirates?”
“What started with pirates?” Kaitlin peered over the edge to the busy street below. She wished she had a scaffolding so she could see exactly how the view would look if they went up three stories.
“The Harper family wealth,” Lindsay said. “Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum. Pirates.”
Kaitlin stretched up on her toes, shading her eyes against the brilliant sun. “I’m sure that’s just a rumor.”
New York City was full of colorful stories of countless founding families. Most of them were concocted by the families themselves to add social cachet and impress their friends. The Harpers could just as easily have been former potato farmers who arrived in the city from Idaho in 1910. Perhaps they’d sold something as mundane as farmland and crops to buy their first boat and start Harper Transportation.
“Of course it’s a rumor,” Lindsay pointed out. “It happened three hundred years ago. It’s not like they have videotape.”
Kaitlin cracked a smile at her friend’s faux outrage. “Are you suggesting I’ve inherited tainted money?”
“I’m suggesting the man you’re blackmailing was descended from thieves and murderers.”
“Does that scare you?” Zach didn’t scare Kaitlin anymore.
Well, not much. She was still intimidated by his angry glare. And she was definitely unsettled by the sexual awareness that bloomed to life whenever he strode by. It was becoming a regular part of her workday: email, coffee, drafting, Zach. Then boom, buzz, all she could think about was kissing him.
“Hell, no,” Lindsay assured her. “I’m just sayin’ you should watch out for his sword.”
Kaitlin waggled her finger at Lindsay in admonishment. “That’s a terrible joke.”
Lindsay peered closer. “Are you blushing?”
“No,” Kaitlin answered with a shake of her head, switching her attention to the steel gray barge plodding up the river.
“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
“Sure you did.”
Lindsay leaned forward to get a better view of Kaitlin’s face. “You are blushing. What did I miss?”
“Nothing. I’ve barely seen him in three days.”
Okay, so she’d seen him from afar, more than a few times. And he looked good from that distance—no frowns, no scowls. Her reaction to him was becoming almost comically predictable. Her pulse rate would jump. Her skin would heat up. And she’d lose her train of thought.
“Are you falling for him?” asked Lindsay.
Kaitlin started to speak, but then stopped, unwilling to lie to Lindsay. “I’m admiring his features from afar,” she admitted. “Along with half of the city.”
Zach was an undeniably attractive man. So she found him good-looking? Big deal. So she occasionally found him charming? Another big deal.
He had breeding and education, and plenty of practice at dating and small talk. If she forgot about the fact that he’d tried to ruin her life, she could almost pretend he was a decent guy.
“He does make a hot pirate,” Lindsay concurred with a saucy grin.
“Hot” definitely described the way he’d looked that night at his penthouse, his tie off, sleeves rolled up, a day’s growth of beard shadowing his chin. He’d looked every inch the rakish pirate of his ancestors. And it had been more than sexy.
Lindsay was watching her closely. “Promise me you’ll keep your head in the game.”
Kaitlin tucked her loose hair firmly behind her ears, taking a quick check of her diamond stud earring. “My head is completely in the game,” she assured Lindsay.
There wouldn’t be a repeat of Vegas. Kaitlin had slipped up that night. She’d let down her guard, and Zach had turned on her within the week.
Apparently satisfied, Lindsay eased forward to peer over the edge. Taxis, buses and delivery trucks cruised past. Three city workers in hard hats set barriers up around an open manhole, while a police cruiser, lights flashing blue and red, pulled halfway up on the wide sidewalk.
“So, have you started unpacking yet?” asked Lindsay.
“Nope.” Kaitlin watched two uniformed cops stride into a deli. She was more than happy to leave the topic of Zach behind. “I’m going to take advantage of having everything out of the way. Clean the carpets and paint the walls.”
“Nesting?” asked Lindsay.
“Yes, I am.” When she gave herself time to think about staying put in New York City, Kaitlin felt a surge of relief lighten her shoulders. She’d curled up in her window seat yesterday evening with a cup of cocoa, simply staring for an hour at the bustle of the neighborhood.
“You deserve a great place to call home,” said Lindsay, warmth and caring evident in her tone.
Kaitlin smiled her agreement. “I may even buy that new rocker.” She’d been admiring a big, overstuffed gliding rocker in the window of a local furniture store for a few months now. Something about it said home.
“You?” Lindsay teased. “A frivolous expenditure?”
Kaitlin nodded with conviction. With no means of support other than her part-time job, she’d been forced to be frugal during her college years. The habit was hard to break. But she was gainfully employed now, and she had good prospects. And she was determined to make herself a real home.
“First the rocker,” she explained to Lindsay. “And then the Prestige espresso machine.”
“I love hearing you talk like that.” Lindsay laughed.
“It feels pretty good,” Kaitlin admitted, then her voice caught on her age-old sensation of loneliness. “I can make it a real home.”
Lindsay linked her arm and nudged up against her. “You’ve already made it a real home.”
It didn’t feel like a real home to Kaitlin. Then again, how would she know? Over her childhood years, most of her placements had been in group facilities instead of with families. The workers were mostly kind, but they came and went in shifts, and they often moved on to other jobs, replaced by new people, who were also nice, but also employees, not a family.
Lindsay gave her a squeeze, obviously recognizing that Kaitlin was getting emotional. “You ready for lunch?”
“Sure thing.” There was no point in dwelling on the past. She was staying in New York City, and that was a great thing. The rocker would make a difference, she was sure of it. Maybe she’d get a cat, a calico or a black-and-white gerbil. A pet would make things that much more homey.
With one last look around, she followed Lindsay inside. They locked the rooftop door and took the aging elevator back to the third floor and Kaitlin’s small office.
“There you are.” Zach’s greeting from inside the office sounded vaguely like an accusation.
“What are you doing here?” Kaitlin’s guard immediately went up. She suspiciously scanned the room, the deck, the bookshelf, her computer, checking to see if anything had been disturbed. She’d put a password on her laptop, and she was keeping the preliminary renovation drawings under lock and key.
She’d made Zach promise to give her carte blanche on the project. But she still feared, given half a chance, he would try to micromanage it. She wasn’t planning on giving him half a chance.
“I have something to show you,” he announced from where he stood behind her tilted drafting table.
She saw that he’d rolled out a set of blue line drawings. She moved forward to get a better view. “Those aren’t mine.”
“They’re something Hugo Rosche put together,” he responded.
Kaitlin slipped between the desk and drafting table, while Lindsay waited in the doorway of the cramped office. Kaitlin stopped shoulder-to-shoulder with Zach, and he moved closer up against the wall.
“What’s different than how it is now?” she asked, moving through the pages, noting that a few walls had been relocated. The lobby had been slightly expanded, and new windows were sketched in on the first floor.
“We’d also repaint, recarpet and get a decorator,” said Zach.
She glanced up at him, searching his expression. “Is this a joke?”
He frowned at her.
“Because, I mean, if it’s a joke, ha-ha.” She dropped the pages back into place.
He looked affronted. “It’s not a joke.”
She gestured to the sheets of paper. “You’re not seriously suggesting I use these.”
“We don’t need to make massive changes in order to improve the building,” he insisted.
“I’m not a decorator, Zach. I’m an architect.”
“Being an architect doesn’t mean you need to tear down walls for the sake of tearing down walls.”
She turned and propped her butt against the side of the desk, folding her arms over her chest and facing him head on. “Did you seriously think I’d fall for this?” Because if he had, he was delusional.
He lifted his chin. “I thought you’d at least consider it.”
“I just considered it. I don’t like it.”
“Thank you so much for keeping such an open mind.”
“Thank you so much for bringing me a fait accompli.”
“I paid good money for these plans.” He snagged the bottom of the sheets and began to roll them up. His voice rose, the offense clear in his tone. “And I paid good money for your original plans. And now I’m paying a third time for the same work.”
Lindsay shifted forward, stepping fully into the room. “Would you prefer to fire Kaitlin and meet us in court?”
Zach’s steel gaze shot her way.
He glared at her briefly, then returned his attention to Kaitlin. “I thought you could use them as a starting point.”
Kaitlin shrugged. “Okay,” she said easily.
His hands stilled. He drew back, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Then he paused and asked, “You will?”
She shrugged again. “Since they’re virtually identical to the existing building, I’ve already used them as a starting point.”
Lindsay coughed a surprised laugh.
Zach came back to life, snapping an elastic band around the paper roll, while Kaitlin hopped out of his way.
“It’s my backup plan,” Zach said to Dylan. It was Sunday afternoon, and the two men maneuvered their way through the crowded rotunda at Citi Field toward a Mets game. If there was one thing he’d learned from both his father and from Dylan’s dad, it was that your contingencies had to have contingencies. Plans failed all the time. An intelligent man was prepared for failure.
Dylan counted on his fingers. “Plan A was to buy her off. Plan B was getting her to agree to the Hugo Rosche drawings. Low percentage on that one working, by the way.” He skirted a trash can. “And now Plan C is to find her a new job?”
Zach didn’t disagree on the Rosche drawings. It had been a long shot that she’d agree to use them. But finding her a new job could easily work. It was a well thought out strategy.
“She said it herself,” he explained. “Her long-term goal is to get a good job. She wants her career back on track. And I don’t blame her. Thing is, it doesn’t have to be my building. It could be any building.”
“She wants to stay in New York City,” Dylan confirmed.
“New York City is a very big place. There are plenty of buildings to renovate.”
“So, you invited her to the game, because…?”
That was another element of Zach’s plan. “Because she was wearing a Mets T-shirt that day at her apartment. It turns out, she’s a fan.”
“And odds are she’s never watched a game from a Sterling Suite,” Dylan elaborated.
“I’m betting she hasn’t,” said Zach as he came to a stop near the escalator, glancing around for Kaitlin and Lindsay. “It works exceedingly well on Fortune 500 execs. Besides, my project is temporary. If I can find her a solid offer with a good firm, then she’s got something permanent.”
“And in order to accept the offer, she’ll have to quit your project.”
“Exactly.” Zach couldn’t help but smile at his own genius.
Dylan, on the other hand, had a skeptical expression on his face. “Good luck with that.”
“Here she is,” Zach announced in a loud voice, sending Dylan a quick warning glance.
The plan was perfectly sound. But it would take some finesse. He wouldn’t try to sell her on the idea of a new job right away. Today, he only wanted to smooth the path, get a little closer to her. He’d let her know he was interested in a good outcome for both of them. No reason they had to be at odds.
Next week, he’d make a few calls, talk to a few associates, field offers for her.
Kaitlin broke her way through the escalator lineup and angled toward them.
His mood lifted at the sight of her, and he recognized the danger in that hormonal reaction. It didn’t mean he had a hope in hell of changing it. But it did mean he needed to be careful, keep his emotions in check and hold himself at a distance.
She was wearing a snug white T-shirt, faded formfitting blue jeans, scuffed white sneakers and a blue-and-orange Mets cap with a jaunty ponytail sticking out the back. He’d never had a girl-next-door thing, preferring glitz and glamour in his dates. But it didn’t seem to matter what Kaitlin wore. She’d be his fantasy girl in a bathrobe.
Damn. He had to shut that image down right now.
Her friend Lindsay was a half pace behind her. She had topped a pair of black jeans with a white sleeveless blouse.
They came to a halt.
“Dylan,” Zach said, resisting the urge to reach out and touch Kaitlin, “meet Kaitlin Saville and Lindsay Rubin.”
“The lovely bride,” Dylan teased Kaitlin, and Zach tensed at the edgy joke.
“The pirate,” Lindsay countered with a low laugh, smoothly inserting herself between Dylan and Kaitlin, then shaking his hand.
“Zach’s the pirate,” Dylan informed her, a practiced smile masking his annoyance at what he considered an insulting label.
“I’ve been studying Zach’s family history,” Lindsay countered. “And I also came across yours.”
“Why don’t we head this way.” Zach gestured toward the elevator. He didn’t want an argument to mar the day. Plus, the game was about to start.
Kaitlin followed his lead, and she fell into step beside him.
“A pirate?” she asked him in what sounded like a teasing voice.
That was encouraging.
“So I’m told,” he admitted.
“Well, that explains a lot.”
Before Zach could ask her to elaborate, Lindsay’s voice interrupted from behind. “It seems Caldwell Gilby cut a swath through the Spanish Main, plundering gold, ammunition and rum.”
Zach could well imagine Dylan’s affronted expression. The sparks were about to fly. But he had to admit, he kind of liked Lindsay’s audacity.
“You can’t trust everything you read on the internet,” Dylan returned dryly.
Kaitlin leaned a little closer to Zach, voice lowering. “Is this going to end badly?”
“Depends,” he answered, listening for the next volley.
“I read it in the Oxford Historic Encyclopedia at the NYU Library,” came Lindsay’s tart retort.
“It could end badly,” Zach acknowledged.
While he’d long since accepted the fact that his family’s wealth had its roots in some pretty unsavory characters, Dylan had always chosen to pretend his ancestor fought against the pirate Lyndall Harper, and on the side of justice.
The two men had zigzagged across the Atlantic for years, lobbing cannonballs at each other. They’d fought, that much was true. But neither was on the right side of the law.
The suite level elevator doors had opened, so they walked inside.
“Caldwell had letters of authority from King George,” said Dylan, turning to face the glowing red numbers.
“Forged and backdated in 1804,” Lindsay retorted without missing a bead.
“Have you ever seen the originals?” Dylan asked. “Because I’ve seen the originals.”
Kaitlin merely grinned at Zach from beneath her ball cap. “My money’s on Lindsay.”
He took in her fresh face, ruby lips, dark lashes and that enticing little dimple. He caught the scent of coconut, and for a split second he imagined her in a bright bikini, flowers in her hair, on a tropical beach.
“Is it a bet?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“Sorry?” He shook himself back to reality.
“Ten bucks says Lindsay wins.” She held out her hand to seal the deal.
Zach took her small, soft hand in his, shaking slowly, drawing out the touch, his attraction to her buzzing through ever nerve cell in his body. “You’re on.”
The elevator came smoothly to a stop, and they made their way along the wide, carpeted hallway to the luxury suite. For many years, the Harpers and the Gilbys had shared a corporate suite for Mets games. Dylan’s father used them the most often, but they had proven a valuable corporate tool for all of them in wooing challenging clients.
“Wow.” The exclamation whooshed out of Kaitlin as she crossed through the arched entrance and into the big, balconied room. It comfortably held twenty. A waiter was setting out snacks on the countertop bar, next to an ice-filled pail of imported beer and a couple of bottles of fine wine.
“Will you look at this.” Like an excited kid, she beelined across to the open glass doors and out onto the breezy, tiered balcony, where two short rows of private seats awaited them.
Happy to leave Dylan and Lindsay to their escalating debate, Zach followed Kaitlin out.
“So this is how the other half lives,” she said, bracing her hands on the painted metal rail, and gazing out over home plate. Rows of fan-filled seats cascaded below them, and a hum of excitement wafted through the air.
“It works well for entertaining clients.” Zach heard a trace of apology in his voice, and he realized he wanted her to know it wasn’t all about self-indulgence.
“At Shea Stadium, we used to sit over there.” She pointed to the blue seats high behind third.
“Was that when you were a kid?”
She shook her head. “It was when we were in college.” And a wistful tone came into her voice. “My first live game was sophomore year.”
“So, you were a late bloomer?” He shifted to watch her profile, wondering what had prompted the sadness.
“As a kid, I watched as many as I could on TV.” She abruptly turned to face the suite, and her tone went back to normal. “You got any beer in there?”
“No live games as a kid?” he persisted, seeing an opening to get to know her on a more personal level.
“Not a lot of money when I was a kid.” She sounded defiant. He could tell he was being dared to probe further.
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