Chapter Eleven
Cierra
I couldn’t get Trace out of my head. It was that simple. The man was an enigma. The depiction of him in the tabloids and from Kels just didn’t add up to the man I was beginning to know. And the Trace I knew so far was a compassionate, smart, and hard-working man. Did that mean he’d be a good boyfriend? I wanted to think so. I mean, someone who cared about the plight of the poor couldn’t be a callous dick, could he?
I shook my head. There were definitely layers to him that he kept hidden from the rest of the world, and I liked that. He didn’t make it known that he built Mission Street Kitchen, or that he helped out in the kitchen. He didn’t want or need the accolades; he did it because he cared.
I chewed the eraser on the pencil in my hand. I had to stop thinking about him and get back to work.
Lindsey had returned the day before, and I was sketching out a design for another product that had just landed on my desk. Trace seemed to be busy enticing new clients, because our workload in my department went up tenfold.
“Are you busy?” Sofie asked as she came in and plopped in one of the leather office chairs.
I set the pencil down. “Not really. What’s up?”
“Colin hasn’t called me for two days. Should I call him?”
I sniggered. “You’re asking me for dating advice? I’m about as clueless as they come.”
“Aren’t you still going out with Cory tonight?”
“As far as I know. He said he’ll meet me at seven thirty.”
“See, he called. Why hasn’t Colin? I mean, send me a damn text or something.”
“Why don’t you send him a quick text to see how he is? A friend would do that. It’s not demanding or creepy. Just try.”
Without commenting, Sofie whipped out her phone and texted him. She leaned against the back of the chair and smiled tightly at me. “There. Done.”
“Now you can obsess if he doesn’t respond,” I said.
“No. Please don’t say that. Please don’t.”
Watching the color drain out of her lips, I said, “I was only joking.”
“He’s just so perfect, you know?”
“I know.” I didn’t remind her that she’d told me the same thing about the two English guys she’d dated in the past six months. It probably wasn’t the appropriate time. I hoped Colin would call and put a smile back on her face.
When Sofie’s phone pinged, I cheered along with her. I really wanted this to work out for her. She was such a caring and wonderful person, and she deserved a nice man.
“He said he’s been sick with the flu and sleeping for the past two days.” The color was back in her lips.
“So that’s the reason you didn’t hear from him,” I replied as I watched her fingers fly. “What did you tell him?”
“That I’d bring over a pot of chicken soup. I think I’m going to leave at lunch so I can buy the stuff and make it.” She rose from the chair and walked out.
I picked up my pencil and started sketching again. I was excited to work on a new line of makeup we’d just picked up from a new client, Absolute Glam. I received a large bag full of eyeliners, lip glosses, powders, eye shadows, and mascaras. I was in makeup heaven. This was going to be such a fun campaign.
When the clock hit five, I was surprised how fast the day had flown by. I packed up my sketching pads, thinking I may look at them again after dinner with Cory, and headed to the elevators. A mass of people were waiting, so I went back to my office to answer a few e-mails I’d neglected. I’d wait until everyone cleared out before attempting the elevators again. I hated waiting in lines. It wasn’t that I was an impatient person; it was just that I thought it was an enormous waste of time to stand around. It was one of my quirks. To hear my parents tell it, I’d always been that way.
Hunched over my keyboard, I tapped away, responding to numerous e-mails. I lost track of the time and probably would’ve been there until it turned dark if Trace hadn’t come into my office. I looked over my computer glasses at him as he walked in and sat down.
“Staying late again?” he asked.
“Killing time. I hate waiting in line for the elevators, and then being squished inside like a sardine in a can. Plus, I needed to respond to all the e-mails.” I looked back at my screen, hoping he’d get the hint that I didn’t want to chat.
“I hate being in a crowded elevator too. It makes me feel vulnerable.”
“I know what you mean. Do you feel like that on airplanes?”
He shook his head. “No, just elevators. It’s been like that for as long as I can remember.”
“Are your parents that way?”
“My mom hates heights, and my dad wasn’t afraid of anything that I can remember. He died when I was young.”
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how tough it must be not to have your dad.”
He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
I nodded. “A brother two years older than me and a sister three years younger. I’m the middle child, and I won’t go into all the neurosis that’s caused. Do you have any siblings?” I didn’t remember reading about him having any in my research, but then almost all of the articles I came across were of him and other women.
“No. I did have….” He grew silent and looked past me. Seconds ticked away and he stood, staring out the window, a faraway look in his eyes. I wished I could’ve crawled into his brain to see what he was thinking. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at me. “How’s the Absolute Glam account coming?”
And just like that, he was back to business mode. “I worked on the sketches today. I have to say I’ve had a love affair with makeup since before I could put it on. I’m thrilled to be the lead on this campaign.”
“You were the one I had in mind when the client signed the dotted line. I’m happy to see your enthusiasm. If you have time, I’d like to see the sketches.”
I glanced at the clock and freaked. It was already six thirty. I had less than an hour to freshen up and change before meeting Cory. Where did the time go? I turned off the computer and stood up. “Sorry, but I have to go. I’m meeting someone for dinner in an hour. Maybe we can do it tomorrow?”
“Where’re you going?”
I paused. Why is he asking me that? “The Harbor Fish House in Fisherman’s Wharf.”
“Last time I was there was for my grandfather’s seventy-sixth birthday. So about three years ago. It has great views of the Golden Gate Bridge.”
“I went there when I first came to San Francisco. The food is good. The restaurant was his choice.”
“His? You’re going on a date?” His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed.
“Yeah?” It came out as more of a question, surprised by his sudden change in tone.
“Are you going with Paul?”
“Paul who works here? No. Why would you ask me that?”
“I heard he has a crush on you.”
“We’re just colleagues. And he has a crush on all the women who are single. I really have to go.”
He blocked the doorway, so I squeezed by, my breasts brushing against his chest. I swore he whispered, “Lucky man,” under his breath, but when I said, “What?” he stared at me and followed me to the elevator. We stood in silence and when the bell rang, I jumped. With downturned mouth and furrowed brows, he stood watching me until the elevator door closed. For a moment, I wanted to forget about meeting Cory and take the elevator back to Trace’s floor, but I knew that would be career suicide, so I stepped out to the lobby and rushed to catch the trolleybus.
After the fastest shower I’d ever taken, I slapped on some makeup, changed into a simple black dress, and dashed outside to meet the awaiting cab. My car was parked three blocks away, and with high heels and a damn steep hill, I’d be terribly late for sure. As it was, I was running ten minutes behind. I’d texted Cory and told him I’d be late, but I didn’t think the date was starting off very well. It wasn’t only me being late, it was also Trace bouncing around in my head again.
As the cab driver sped to my destination, my mind kept going back to the way Trace had reacted when I told him I had a date. He seemed mad and sad at the same time. I didn’t know what to make of it.
“Twenty-one dollars,” the driver said in a heavily accented voice. I handed him the fare and tip and slid out of the back seat.
When I entered the restaurant, Cory leapt to his feet, then came over and gave me a quick hug. His aftershave was powerful and my nose twitched. I was prone to allergies, and I couldn’t tolerate overpowering scents like the one Cory had slathered on. It was going to be a long night.
“You look beautiful,” he said as he took my elbow and guided me to a table by the window.
“Thanks. I’m sorry I was late. I got caught up in work.” And my boss.
“No worries. I’m just happy to see you again.”
Cory ordered a bottle of chardonnay and we eased into a comfortable conversation. In the distance, the lights from the Golden Gate Bridge twinkled, their reflection dancing on the water below. The full moon hung low like a big luminous pearl in an inky sky speckled with stars. It was beautiful. An empty ache pulsed inside me, and I wished Trace were there sharing a glass of wine with me as we feasted on lobster, Dungeness crab, and baked oysters. I missed him. I knew that was crazy and totally unfair to Cory, who was turning out to be witty, charming, and a real gentleman, but my mind was on Trace, and my body wanted him so much.
“Do you like your dinner?” Cory asked as he poured more wine in my glass.
“It’s very good. How’s yours?”
“Great. You seem a bit preoccupied. Is anything wrong?”
“Sorry. I guess my mind is still on work.” I wasn’t lying considering my mind was on my boss.
“Where do you work again?”
“Velocity. It’s an advertising and marketing company. I’ve been there for five years.”
“I’ve read about it. Didn’t you just get a new CEO?” He tapped his temple with his finger. “What’s his name?”
“Trace Prescott.” His name spilled easily from my mouth; I loved saying it.
“That’s right. He’s pretty young, isn’t he?”
I shrugged. “There’re a lot of CEOs who are younger now. Especially in some of the IT companies.”
“He took his grandfather’s place. Thomas Linder. It must be nice to be born into all that money and not have to earn it.”
“Tra—Mr. Prescott works hard. He’s already brought in several new accounts. And he earned his own money years ago by developing a gaming app.”
Cold, hard eyes replaced the warm, friendly ones from just a moment before. “You’re a real loyal employee. Do you receive any fringe benefits from Mr. Prescott?” Disdain hung on his tongue.
“What’re you talking about? And why’re you getting so mad?”
And just like that, the warmness came back into his eyes, the muscles relaxed in his face, and he unclenched his fists. “I guess I have a chip on my shoulder when it comes to inheriting wealth rather than making it. Most of us have to work all our lives, and we never even get close to the amount of money Prescott and the likes of him will inherit. It’s just one of my pet peeves.”
I didn’t know what to say. Maybe Cory had grown up real poor and the rich kids at school had made fun of him when he was young. I made a mental note to do some digging around about him. The way he turned was a red flag for me—a small one, but a red flag nonetheless. But I’d promised myself I wouldn’t take one thing and use that as an excuse to add him to the elimination list I’d started a couple of years before. I had so many names on it, and the keeper list had none.
The rest of the night went well. We even shared the chocolate banana bread pudding, which was to die for. I was a huge chocoholic, so I was delighted when Cory asked me to pick the dessert. I practically ate the whole thing. I’d be spending a few extra hours in the gym for that indulgence, but it was so worth it.
Outside, the air was chilly and I shivered in spite of my lined jacket. Cory wrapped his arm around me and I felt warmer, but that was about all I felt. Nothing else. Not the spark I felt whenever Trace and I inadvertently touched. I wasn’t being difficult; it just wasn’t there. But in fairness to Cory, I’d never felt a spark with any man before Trace.
“I don’t want the evening to end. Would you like to go somewhere for a drink?”
“I had a real nice time, but I have some work I need to do for one of the new accounts. I’ll take a rain check, okay?”
The coldness crept back into his eyes for a second, but then he nodded and leaned into me.
“I’ll take you up on that.”
He came in for a kiss and I turned my face so his lips landed on my cheek. “Give me a call.”
“Let me take you home,” he said, a scowl beginning to form on his face.
My rule was to go out with a guy for a few times before I let him know where I live. My friends joked and called me paranoid, but I looked at it as a safety issue. I didn’t want a guy knowing where I lived if I wasn’t going to keep going out with him, and the jury was still out on Cory. He was nice, and I really had a good time, but the way he got so mad about Trace stuck in the back of my mind.
“I’m good.”
“I insist. I’m not in the habit of letting a lady find a ride after a date.” His brows knitted together.
“But I already have a ride.” I waved at a cab that pulled up in front of the restaurant. “Thank you again. It was a lot of fun.” Without waiting for his response, I slid into the back seat, gave the driver my address, and disappeared into the traffic. I was sure he wasn’t too pleased with me and he probably wouldn’t call me back, but I didn’t care. If Cory wanted to go out again, I’d give it another go; if not, then I wasn’t going to sit around moping about it for days.
When I got home, I slipped into my fleece pajamas and stretched out on the couch with my sketch pad in hand. I really wanted to wow the client with my advertising campaign, but I also wanted to impress the hell out of Trace. With that thought in mind, I worked until the early morning hours, then shuffled to the bedroom and crashed.