Chapter Twelve
The next day Alisha was on her way home from leaving the engagement ring, tucked into a handwritten apology, with Spencer’s secretary. She didn’t know if he’d actually not been there or if he simply hadn’t wanted to see her, but either way it was over. She couldn’t go back in time and stop him from hearing the truth about his parentage, but she did let him know how much she regretted the way he’d learned about it. She wished she could have spared him that.
I can’t change what happened.
I can’t make anyone forgive me.
But I can look at myself in the mirror now. I did everything I could to make amends.
When she pulled into her driveway, there was a limo parked off to one side. The driver straightened and replaced his hat when he saw her. Is Brett here?
Her heart beat double time, and she could barely breathe as she parked her car. The driver opened the door of her car for her and handed her a card.
Alisha opened it.
Let me pamper you today.
—Brett
She looked from the driver to the limo. “Is he here?”
“No, ma’am, but I’m at your disposal for the day.”
Alisha had never ridden in a limo. Feeling awkward, she shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere I need to go.”
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a piece of paper, and unfolded it. “I believe this might help.”
It had the name of a spa and two high-end stores. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
“Mr. Westerly has arranged a surprise for you at each of the places listed. You may choose to go to any or all of the locations. Now or when it is more convenient for you. As I said, I’m at your disposal today.”
“What kind of surprises?” she asked.
The driver gave her a bland smile. “I really can’t say.”
Alisha chewed her bottom lip and weighed her curiosity against her common sense. Accepting gifts from Brett would give him the wrong idea. She should have refused the luggage.
But they were so perfect. Exactly what I would have chosen.
I have to say no to this. I don’t want him to think I’ll change my mind about us.
“I’m sorry. I can’t accept this.” She handed him back the list.
He took it and tucked it into his suit pocket. She leaned on her car and waited for him to climb into the limo and drive off.
I have no choice. I have to say no.
The driver returned to where he’d been standing when she pulled in, near the front of the limo beside the passenger door. He removed his hat and tucked it beneath his arm.
“Aren’t you leaving?” she asked.
“My instructions are to stay all day in case you change your mind.”
Okay, I’m good, but I’m only human. She took out her phone and sent a text to Brett.
I can’t do this, Brett.
Yes, you can. Let someone do something nice for you for a change.
She remembered how Rachelle had asked her to stay away from her brother and told herself to be strong.
I don’t want you to think . . .
Let me worry about what I think. Start your vacation early. Get in the limo. See if I guessed correctly about what would make you smile.
One day. One indulgence. The driver will wait here all day unless I agree. This is harmless. Fun. Don’t I deserve a little happiness?
I’d ask Rachelle if this is out of line, but she’s not talking to me.
Which is a horrible reason to do something I know she wouldn’t want me to do.
But how could saying yes to this hurt anyone?
He just wants to make me smile.
Okay, but I need to be clear about something. All we can be is friends.
I hear there is no better place to start.
He didn’t write more, and Alisha had no idea what to say in response, so she pocketed her phone and grabbed her purse. “I’ve changed my mind,” she told the driver.
He opened the back door of the limo, professional enough that it was as if they’d never had their earlier conversation. He gave her the list, closed the door, and went around to the driver’s side. Once inside, he lowered the window between the front and the back. “Would you like to go in the order it’s listed or do you have another preference?”
Alisha’s mouth went dry as she answered, “This order is fine.” She took a deep calming breath and settled against the plush leather seat.
The first stop was a local spa she’d driven by many times but had never allowed herself the luxury of stepping inside. Brett had arranged for her to choose any service. She was willing to settle for a simple manicure, but when the owner of the spa came out to greet her, she talked her into adding a pedicure and then a massage. Although Alisha declined a makeover, they did wash, trim, and blow-dry her hair. A few hours later, one very relaxed Alisha plopped into the back of the limo.
She wrote to Brett: The spa was amazing. Thank you. I didn’t realize how tense I was. What a great way to start my vacation.
You’re smiling.
Yes.
So am I.
She looked at the next stop on the list. It was a clothing store. You don’t need to buy me clothes. I bought plenty for the trip.
Do you always have to say no before you say yes?
No. She read her response, laughed, and added: Yes.
Funny. Text me once you see my gift. I want to know what you think of it.
I’ll go see it, but I can’t accept anything more.
She was still telling herself that when she walked into the boutique clothing store. A saleswoman rushed over to her as if she’d been waiting for her. She led her to a changing room. Alisha was torn between feeling ridiculous and thinking Brett could have walked straight out of a romance novel. Who did things like this? No one she’d ever dated.
The dress the woman brought her was elegant and sexy at the same time. It revealed very little skin, but clung to her curves. Normally, Alisha would have felt more comfortable in a looser dress, but this one complemented her full figure. If she had spent a month hunting for a formal dress for the last night of the cruise, she couldn’t have found a more perfect one. She spun around before the mirror. It made her feel beautiful.
As did Brett.
Still wearing the dress, she typed: I love it. Did you pick it out?
I did.
How did you know my size?
I put a lot of thought into it. A lot. His dry humor came through even in a text. Still, what man knew dress sizes?
You showed a picture of me to the sales clerk.
That, too.
The dress is perfect for the formal night. I’m going to buy it myself.
Sorry, it’s already sold.
She laughed loud enough that the clerk inquired if she needed anything. She assured her she didn’t before continuing to text. Then I’ll pay you back.
I’m sure we can work something out.
That’s not what I meant.
Leave a man with some hope.
Alisha laughed again. What am I going to do with you?
I have a few ideas.
She placed the phone down so she could unzip the dress and caught a glimpse of her expression in the changing-room mirror. Her eyes were dancing with humor, her cheeks were pink, and the smile on her face said it all: I can’t do this partway; it’s too easy to forget that this can’t go further.
Once she was in her own clothing again, she held up the dress in front of her and let herself imagine what it would be like to wear it for him. To dance, to flirt, to spend an evening on his arm, feeling beautiful, like she belonged there.
She called him instead of texting. “Brett?”
“Yes.”
She sat down on the chair in the changing room and pulled her legs up in front of her. “All joking aside, thank you for today.”
“All joking aside, you’re welcome.”
“I can’t go to the third place. I hope you don’t think I’m ungrateful. I just need to go home. I shouldn’t have accepted any of this. I know I’m sending you mixed signals, but . . .”
“Alisha.”
“Yes?”
“Take the dress on the cruise.” He hung up without saying more.
Alisha stood, gathered the dress and her purse, and stepped outside the dressing room. She handed the dress to the clerk, who returned moments later with it in a box. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Yes,” Alisha said as she remembered she hadn’t seen a price tag. “How much was the dress?”
“Twelve thousand dollars.” The woman handed her the box.
“Thousand.” Alisha choked and crushed the sides of the box in her hands. “Thousand?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
Only if that’s half of what you have in the bank. She almost handed the box back to the woman. To a man like Brett Westerly, $12,000 was probably equivalent to twelve of her dollars. I’ll still pay him back, but in installments until I’m fifty. “No, everything is wonderful. Thank you.”
Only everything wasn’t wonderful.
After instructing the limo driver to take her home, Alisha opened the box and ran her hand over the dress. Just like Brett, it had been too tempting to say no to.
Thank God I’m leaving tomorrow.
Or I’d be taking more than this dress home with me.
And then where would I be?
On his way home from work, Brett stopped by the third shop, the one Alisha had declined. He’d written the name of a department store on the list, but the limo driver had been instructed to take her to the jewelry store next to it. A phone call would have been enough to have the present delivered to his office or apartment, but he was feeling restless, and the errand would keep him from driving to Alisha’s home to see her.
He had a plan now. He’d been reluctant to take any advice from Alessandro or Victor, but they had compelling arguments for each suggestion they put forth. At first Brett had held back details of his reasons for seeing Alisha. He wasn’t proud of how he’d offered her money, but her refusal was significant, so he ended up sharing that story as well.
When he’d finished talking, Alessandro had looked at Victor and said, “She sounds like a good girl. I don’t think we should get involved unless he’s serious about her.”
Victor had given Brett a stern look. “Do you see yourself marrying this woman?”
“I don’t see myself marrying anyone,” Brett had answered honestly.
Victor cut a hand through the air. “Then we want nothing to do with this.”
Relieved, Brett had said, “I’ll muddle through it myself, I guess.”
Alessandro had stood, paced, then come to stand over Brett. “Describe Alisha in five words. Don’t think about it. Just tell me the first five words that come to you when you hear her name.”
Easy. Brett had said, “Brave. Resilient. Funny. Beautiful. Loyal.”
Victor had nodded in approval. “You respect her. That’s the foundation all good marriages are built on.”
“I’m not getting married.”
Not giving much credit to Brett’s declaration, Alessandro said, “When you marry, Brett, only do so with a woman you also consider your friend. A lover leaves you if your finances change or your health takes a turn. They are there for the pleasure only.”
Brett groaned, already regretting that he’d shared as much with them as he had. “Thank you for the sage advice, but as I said—”
Victor clapped his hands together once. “Okay, we will help you, but be generous with your wedding invitations when it comes to our family. We prefer to include the children. It’s important that they are a part of these things, you understand?”
“Absolutely.” Brett had promised because, as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t going to happen. He wanted to be with Alisha, get to know her better, date her, possibly have a long-term relationship with her—but none of that changed his lack of faith in the institution of marriage.
Alessandro had sat down again and said, “Brett, winning a woman is not complicated. I don’t care if you are trying to woo the CEO of a company or someone who likes to change diapers and stay home—they want the same things from their men. They want to be appreciated, and they want a real partner, not a puppy. Have fun. Dare them. Challenge them. Savor each layer, each new thing you learn about her.”
“It’s not the gift that matters,” Victor added. “It’s the way it leaves her feeling. Make a woman feel beautiful, and she will dance for you. Make her feel loved, and she’d die for you. No woman leaves a man who makes her feel this way.”
As Brett entered the jewelry store, he was still mulling over Victor’s theory on women and love. Love wasn’t something he’d put much thought into since he’d always lumped it with castle-in-the-sky stocks: overvalued and very likely to fail. Look at his parents’ marriage and the complexity of its demise.
His father, lost to his own pain, had closed his mother out. What had she found in Mark that his father hadn’t given her? Had Mark made her feel beautiful? Special? He thought back to the conversation he’d overheard between his parents all those years ago and tried to hear it again as a man. His father had begged her to stay. How hadn’t that made her feel loved?
She’d said she couldn’t take it anymore. Take what? His father had given her a life of luxury most people dream about. He struggled to see how she could justify being anything but grateful. She’d made leaving sound like it had been a long time in coming.
My grandfather died the year I was born.
Was my mother unhappy for twelve years?
He pocketed the jewelry box after paying for Alisha’s gift. He wanted to make her happy, but he didn’t need her to love him. Things were a hell of a lot simpler if that word was kept out of the equation. What had love done for his parents? Nothing. It hadn’t stopped his mother from cheating. It hadn’t kept his parents together.
No, love was a word people threw around to justify doing whatever was in their best interest. Why had his mother kept Spencer’s real father a secret? Brett was willing to bet his mother would say she loved him too much to hurt him with the truth.
Love was fickle and malleable.
Sorry, Victor, I can make Alisha happy without relying on unrealistic, archaic traditions of promising the impossible. That’s where my father failed. He should have been more honest.
I won’t lie to Alisha. She’ll have to take me as I am.
I won’t promise her forever, but I can make her feel damn good for as long as we last.
He paused as he stepped out of the store into the evening heat. Part of him resisted leaving while his family was in turmoil, but he couldn’t work this mess out for them. He couldn’t wrap his own head around most of it, and there was no amount of money that could fix it.
My family will be fine. This is old news that won’t matter once the sting of the reveal passes. By Thanksgiving we’ll all be back to awkwardly finding reasons we can’t gather.
None of that matters now. I’m on vacation.
A lusty smile curled his lips.
Alisha Coventry, prepare yourself for a week of pleasure.