CHAPTER 15
BEN SWEPT THE door open to greet their visitors and Chloe plastered on her most gracious smile, ignoring the roiling in the pit of her stomach.
“Mr. McLeod, welcome.” Ben shook the hand of a small man who Chloe would have mistaken for a funeral home director, if she’d guessed his profession on a plane. “Let me take your coat. This is my wife, Chloe.”
His hand felt cold and dead in hers.
Ben had moved on to McLeod’s wife. “Martine, you look lovely.” He exchanged air kisses with a bony woman who proceeded to give Chloe a stern once-over and a weak handshake. Chloe could tell immediately that the McLeods were already not taken with her.
“Mr. Carson. Thank you for coming.” The other boss. Used-car salesman-esque, with a big grin and a bigger gut. He used Chloe’s hand like a pump handle and then ignored her completely.
Ben finished hanging their coats. “Sir, where’s your lovely wife— Mel! What are you doing here?”
The sudden panic in Ben’s voice drew Chloe’s attention just as a beautiful blonde, looking impeccable in a trench coat, pumps and a wrap-dress, stepped into the condo. “Hello, Ben. It’s been a while.”
“I thought Elaine was coming?” Ben sounded a little gob-smacked, and was about two shades paler than he had been a moment ago.
“Mother was feeling a little under the weather today, so I offered to take her place.”
“Just you? Where’s your husband?” he asked, and Chloe was intrigued by the way Ben’s voice hardened a little.
“Richard had a prior obligation.” She smiled then, but it was cold. The other woman shrugged out of her jacket and handed it to Ben, but her eyes were on Chloe. “And speaking of significant others, aren’t you going to introduce me to your wife?”
“Yes, of course.” Ben slid the closet shut before stepping toward her. “Melanie, I’d like you to meet Chloe Masterson.”
Chloe’s heart stuttered.
Melanie.
Of course. Ben’s fiancée. Well, ex-fiancée, but at least she’d been a real one at some point. Chloe unconsciously twisted the ring on her finger. Until she noticed Melanie’s icy blue gaze on it.
“Melanie, nice to meet you,” she said, remembering her manners.
“And you.” The handshake was tense and appraising. Their pretty guest took a step toward the living room. “The place looks great. So different from your last condo.”
Melanie’s eyes cut to hers. Her ploy was obvious, but it still rankled.
“How about a tour?”
Melanie’s question sounded sickly sweet to Chloe’s ears, and she realized in that moment that if she didn’t take control of this godforsaken party right then, it was going to spiral to its doom.
“What a lovely idea. Ben, why don’t you show everyone around? I’m sure they’d love to see the place while we wait for dinner. But first, can I offer anyone an aperitif? I’ve got a lovely white chilling.”
She’d caught the McLeods by surprise. She could see them reassessing her. Carson perked up at the mention of booze. “I’ll take one!”
And Melanie, well, she was not impressed that Chloe had invited others to her private tour. Chloe smiled as she went back to the kitchen to pour. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a train wreck after all.
Chloe returned with a tray of wine, offering Martine and Melanie first selection, followed by McLeod and Carson.
“So I gotta ask, Chloe. What’s with the hair? Couldn’t afford the whole bottle of dye?” The big man’s guffaws filled the condo. “Joking! I’m joking!”
Chloe bit back a hundred insults, laughing good-naturedly at the petty swipe. “Why, Mr. Carson. I would think a titan of the advertising world such as yourself would understand the value of standing out in a crowd,” she chided.
The room went dead silent for a moment. Then Carson began to grin. “Touché. Spitfire you got here, Masterson. I like her moxie.”
He took a big gulp of the expensive wine and Chloe let the last vestiges of nervousness slip away. She offered the last glass of wine on the tray to Ben, and when he accepted it, he was looking at her in a way he never had before.
* * *
“THE APARTMENT LOOKS LOVELY, Ben. Who’s your decorator?”
They’d finished the brief tour, and dinner had arrived. The guy from the makeup store—Josh—was in the kitchen right now, transferring all the takeout from foam containers into real dishes. Ben had no idea when Chloe had arranged all that, and he couldn’t ask her because right now she and Martine, an avid symphony fan, were discussing the classical music Chloe had turned on while he’d been showing everyone around the condo.
He wasn’t quite sure how his “wife” had managed it, but things were going pretty well. Which was good, but it paled in comparison to how relieved he was that she hadn’t up and walked out on him earlier.
“Ben?”
He started at the sound of Mel’s voice. He’d forgotten she was there for a moment. “Is your mother really sick?”
Mel set the picture of him and his dad back on the bookshelf. “If I didn’t know better, I might think you weren’t happy to see me.”
The evasion was classic Melanie, and he had his answer: Elaine was in perfect health.
She moved toward him, and he automatically stepped back.
“Has it come to that?” she asked quietly.
Ben wet his lips as she raised her hand to smooth the lapel of his Armani blazer. His gaze slipped to the gleaming diamonds that decorated her left ring finger, so different than the ring he’d offered her.
He’d met her during his second week with Carson and McLeod. She’d made fun of his suit—it had cost him five hundred dollars, which was the most he’d ever spent on an item of clothing in his life. The gibes had been the first salvos in a courtship that, in retrospect, had consisted of Ben doing his very best to impress her and Melanie remaining dutifully unimpressed to ensure he would continue to try.
Today, for the first time since he’d met her, he didn’t care what she thought. The realization was freeing.
“You slowpokes comin’ for dinner? We’re starving over here!”
The smile Mel shot him was almost regretful, but he wasn’t sure why. “Coming, Daddy.”
They settled into the business and the dinner immediately, with Carson and McLeod tag-teaming him with questions that were designed to figure out where he stood on issues the firm was facing. Every once in a while he was able to take a bite of incredible food, from beef bourguignon to mushroom risotto.
They didn’t ask him anything he wasn’t expecting, which meant that in between the “Yes, Mr. Carson, I definitely think that the A/B testing warrants a re-evaluation of Sports Nation’s decision to rebrand,” and the “No, Mr. McLeod, the mock-ups for the Delaney account won’t be ready in time for the general meeting,” Ben had enough focus left over to monitor how things were going at the other end of the table.
Which was not well.
* * *
“THE FOOD IS EXQUISITE, my dear,” Mrs. McLeod complimented, and Chloe was thankful that she was friends with someone as talented as Chad in the kitchen. Otherwise they’d be having pepperoni pizza or Chinese takeout.
“I’d love to take credit for it, but who has time to cook?”
It was a standard joke amongst ladies who lunched, and Martine smiled knowingly—the acceptable response—but it seemed Melanie wasn’t here to play nice.
“What is it that you do again?”
Chloe raised her eyebrows at the violation of manners. “I’m sorry?”
“Well, you implied you don’t have time to cook. I was just wondering what it was that took up so much of your day,” Melanie asked.
“Actually, I—”
“Chloe is an incredible makeup artist,” Ben interrupted, and Chloe clenched her hands into fists in an attempt to keep calm. A lady did not show emotion in public. A fact for which Ben should be ever-freaking-grateful for right about now.
“She’s got a growing following on YouTube and she’s poised to create a big splash in the industry.”
“Makeup. How...fanciful.”
As far as insults went, Melanie’s polite dismissal was pretty much the worst Chloe could think of.
“I mean, I’m envious!” the other woman added. “I would love to play dress-up all the time. Maybe in my next life. For now, I guess being a lawyer will have to do.”
The rest of the dinner guests had the grace to look uncomfortable at the breach of etiquette.
“I’m also on the board of the Girls Have Power Foundation.”
“Oh? How interesting. What’s that all about?” It galled Chloe to ask, to allow Melanie to preen in the spotlight. But tonight was about Ben, and she wasn’t going to screw it up for him, even if he’d been a self-righteous prick earlier.
“Our goal is to improve the futures of girls by elevating their self-esteem, helping them get through school and encouraging them to take on the world as successful women. We do all sorts of networking events and workshops, and we also bring in speakers on a variety of issues that affect the girls.”
“Chloe did an amazing set of makeup videos about self-esteem, calling out cosmetic companies for all the false advertising they do in their ads and commercials.”
Chloe glared at Ben.
“How lovely that your little makeup videos are so ambitious. But I hardly think teaching our young ladies how to apply bronzer is going to help them in the long run.”
Me. Ow. Chloe’s resolve to play nice snapped. Oh, it’s on now.
“With all due respect, Melanie, I disagree whole-heartedly. Makeup can be an incredibly powerful tool to help women raise their self-esteem.”
Melanie’s “Oh?” was derisive.
“I’m not claiming it’s magical. I agree that it’s a huge problem when companies trade on unrealistic beauty ideals to sell their products. But that’s why it’s so important to educate girls about the truth of advertising. It’s empowering, for example, to know that when your eyes don’t look like the models’ after you apply their ‘miracle’ product, that’s got nothing to do with you. You’re fine just the way you are.”
“Surely you’re not suggesting that wearing makeup is equivalent to graduating high school or getting a good job.”
“Of course not! But if you feel beautiful, it can be just the boost you need to walk into a job interview with confidence and nail it. And I know you’re not implying that physical appearance doesn’t matter because I can see that you are wearing makeup today. Why is that?”
Melanie’s eyes narrowed, and Chloe took a sip of wine to keep from sticking her tongue out at the woman.
“I think we’re veering away from the point,” Ben offered, obviously trying to get this dinner party back on the rails. He turned to Carson and McLeod. “This, right here, is the kind of cross-marketing and co-branding opportunity I’d recommend we take better advantage of if I’m chosen for the new position. Imagine the power of connecting our clients, instead of keeping everyone separate.”
The men launched back into shop talk. Melanie remained focused on her risotto, and Martine filled the conversational chasm with interesting facts about the Vivaldi piece that was playing in the background.
The rest of the evening passed without incident, but she was relieved when their sham finally came to an end.
“Chloe, it was a pleasure meeting you. Such a lovely dinner. You’ve done your husband proud.”
Mr. McLeod’s old-fashioned compliment landed with a thud in Chloe’s gut. “Thank you, sir. And thank you so much for coming. Let me get your coats,” she offered.
“Ben,” Carson boomed. “Very impressive dinner to go with your very impressive work this year. You didn’t hear it from me, but let me just say that you’re going to be a very happy man when you arrive at the office on Monday morning.” Carson slapped Ben on the back as he passed him.
As the rest of their guests filed out, Chloe thought briefly of her mother, wondering how she’d handled so much bullshit on a regular basis during her twenty-eight years of marriage.
Because she’d loved Daryl Masterson, she realized. But if tonight had taught Chloe anything, it was that she needed more than that. Pretending to be this person may have landed her the hot businessman and the parental acceptance, but if they weren’t true to themselves and each other, what did it matter if she loved him?
* * *
BEN CLOSED THE door behind his guests and leaned back against it. A slow smile dawned on his face. They’d done it. Despite the fighting and the chicken and Melanie, somehow Chloe had managed to throw the best damn dinner party he’d ever been to, and now all his hard work was paying off.
“Did you hear that? I got the job!”
“Congratulations.” The word came out cool.
He didn’t blame Chloe for being mad at him. He’d said some awful things, and then she’d had to deal with Melanie. But he would never have been able to pull this night off alone. He owed a lot to the woman standing across from him.
“You were incredible tonight, Chloe. Seriously. You totally saved my ass, and I really appreciate it. This promotion has been my whole world, and it never would have happened without you.”
“Ben, I have to go.”
“What? But you and I have some celebrating to do!”
“I’m happy for you. If this is the life you want, then congratulations. Enjoy it. But it’s not the one I want. In fact, it’s exactly what I ran away from.”
“What are you saying?”
“You’re not the same guy I met on the plane. Or the guy I hung out with at Amy’s birthday party.”
He frowned. “Sure I am.”
She shook her head. “That guy would never have jumped into the middle of a conversation and told a bunch of complete strangers about my hopes and dreams just to save his own pride.”
It felt like she’d slapped him. “Chloe, I didn’t—”
“We don’t want the same things, Ben. If this was what I wanted, you and I would never have met. I would be Mrs. Patrick McQuaid and I’d be celebrating my fourth wedding anniversary. And what I was trying to say earlier is that it’s not really what you want, either. But you can’t see that beyond your grief and your ego. So I’m going to go pack my stuff now. ”
Ben was numb. He couldn’t believe she was going to walk out on him like this. Didn’t she understand that he’d just landed his big break? How good it would be for him? How good it could be for them?
She reappeared a few minutes later, pulling her suitcase behind her, her purse slung over her shoulder. She stopped beside him.
“Congratulations on the promotion. I’m really happy that things worked out for you.”
“Don’t go.” It was all he could say. It made her pause, but just for a second.
“I have to.” Tears welled in her eyes and it took everything he had not to grab her and hold onto her with everything he had. But she’d made her choice.
She notched her chin up and strode away from him, right out the front door.
And, for the second time, he let her go.