If the Stiletto Fits...
“No, he’s fine. I was going to ask if things look promising between you and this guy.”
“I’m not going to marry him, if that’s what you mean.” Giving up the single life in the city wasn’t going to happen anytime soon—if ever.
“Lily, you really need to get busy. You’re twenty-eight, you know. When I was twenty-eight—”
“I know. You’d been married for eight years and had two kids already. I’m not you, Karen,” she added quietly.
She sighed. “Sorry. I’m nagging again. That’s my job.”
Lily smiled, relieved her sister wasn’t going to push. Neither of them were very good at understanding the other, but they were family, and that meant something that time, distance and differences in lifestyles could never erase. “And you do it well.”
“Thanks for the shoes, by the way. Though I pretended I didn’t know when Mom asked how much you charge customers for the ones you sent her.”
“Wise move.”
“And what was with that extra pair you sent me? The shiny black ones? The heels are way too high. Where in the world would I wear something like that?”
Her sister had great legs, but Lily wasn’t sure anyone but Karen had seen them in the last ten years. And Lily couldn’t think of anything more depressing than to not have anyplace to wear a great pair of new shoes. “To dinner with your husband.”
“In Redwood? Get real.”
“Then wear them for Jack around the house.”
“With what? Jeans and a sweatshirt?”
“Nothing.” She giggled. “I bet I get a thank-you card from Jack.”
She spoke with her nieces and nephews—two of each—and promised to plan a trip to Iowa to see them as soon as the Spectacular was over. Even though she wouldn’t have her sister’s life, she did enjoy visiting her nieces and nephews. Even when she didn’t fix her hair, makeup or wear designer clothes and shoes, they just adored her because she’d play Chutes and Ladders for hours on end.
As she hung up the phone, Lily said to Garnet, “I’m gone for the day if anybody asks.”
Garnet smacked her gum as she played solitaire on the computer. “Okay. Have fun.”
She walked down the hall, then through the door into her private apartment. She had a beautiful space on the twentieth floor that she’d separated into two areas for her offices and apartment. The building had a great uptown address, plus amenities like a small gym, concierge desk and uniformed doorman. Even James had been impressed with the space and had rented an apartment in the same building on the sixteenth floor.
As Lily walked into the den, she passed by the plush seating group covered in plum-and-gold fabric and headed toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that dominated one wall. The sun was just setting, and Manhattan lights were flicking on like fireflies. Soon the suits and briefcases would be replaced by glamorous gowns and bags. The shoppers would become diners. The nightclubs and bars would spring to life, keeping time with the endless pulse of the city.
Just as it had earlier, happiness moved through her. She really had a remarkable life. She didn’t have a two-hour commute from the outskirts of the city anymore. She didn’t even have to get dressed if she found inspiration in the middle of the night. She had great friends, a challenging career and she’d achieved a level of both creative and financial success that most people would envy.
So, if—every once in a while—she felt as if her life was missing something, she managed to find a project, a new friend, a shopping trip or a party to fill it.
She’d dreamed of this life ever since she was five, and her grandmother had taken them all on a trip to the city. They’d seen a Broadway play, done the tours of the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building and all the rest. It had been the most magical five days of Lily’s life. She’d come home with a snow globe and the statue inside. She’d gone to bed every night staring at it and wishing for the day she’d finally become a New Yorker.
Waving off the small, lingering slice of emptiness, Lily strode into her bedroom, which she’d decorated in calming creams and golds. Her favorite piece in the apartment was her cherry, four-poster bed. A decorator had helped her pick out a plush duvet and lots of pillows in various sizes and shapes, then hung white fabric along the railings between posts, so she could literally close out the world if she wanted.
For the next hour, she primped—one of her favorite things when she had the time. She was such a makeup junkie, she usually tried out several different looks before settling on one. Then she perused her giant, walk-in closet—complete with custom-made, revolving shoe rack. She needed something semi-sexy but not too obvious.
Since Brian was probably more interested in her industry connections than her legs, she ought to dress accordingly.
She finally decided on a trim black pantsuit with a silver satin camisole peeking between the folds of the jacket. She picked out silver, ankle-wrap, heeled sandals that might hurt like hell if they went dancing later, but they’d look festive.
After she piled her shoulder-length dark hair on top of her head in a loose twist, she strolled back through the den and into the kitchen. She had to eat something so she wouldn’t pig out during dinner.
Knock, knock.
Lily paused with her hand on the Parmesan cheese, which she was currently shaking over her slices of reheated pizza. “Yes?”
“It’s James.”
Well, damn. She’d forgotten all about him. He’d wanted to talk to her before she left.
She shoved a bite of pizza in her mouth, then muttered around it, “Be right there.” Opening the door, she found him with his suit jacket now on and buttoned, and a serious expression planted on his face. Well, James was serious most of the time, but this was a new level—even for him. “Come on in.”
Hesitating, he glanced past her. “You’re alone?”
“Yeah. I’m just getting ready to go out. Sorry I forgot to come by your office.”
He still hesitated. He’d been in her apartment many times, of course, but he always seemed slightly out of place. The intimacy probably offended his professional sensibilities.
Lily grabbed his hand and tugged him inside. “Oh, come on. I was just about to pour some wine.” She headed to the kitchen, leaving him to trail behind. “Did you ever find out what was wrong with Garnet’s computer?”
“The CAT5 cable connection was loose between the router and the modem. I fixed it.”
She blinked. She understood about three words in that sentence—and they were and, the and it. “O-kay.” As she poured chardonnay into a glass, she asked, “You want some?”
James pulled one of the iron bar stools away from the black-tiled counter and slid onto it. “Sure.”
Mildly surprised—he no doubt considered this a business conversation, not a social occasion—she handed him the glass, then selected another one for herself.
“What’s up?” she asked after her first sip. “There’s not a problem with the Spectacular, is there?”
He took a healthy sip of wine. “No.”
Again, with the serious tone. Curious, but not alarmed—James could get uptight on occasion—Lily snacked on her pizza. “Hungry?”
He leaned forward, peering at the slices. “Pizza?”
She grinned. “It pairs well with the chardonnay.”
After another sip of wine, he folded his hands on the counter. “I’m not really sure how to say this, so I guess I’ll just blurt it out.”
Her stomach tightened. Something was wrong. Had orders drastically fallen off? Maybe Bloomingdale’s and Neiman Marcus had both pulled their business. “Okay.”
He met her gaze. “I’m retiring.”
She angled her head. “From what?”
“My job. This job. I’m going to finish the last three months of our contract, then I’m—”
“You’re quitting.”
2
LILY’S HEAD actually spun. She gripped the counter for support. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—
“I know this comes as a shock,” he said gently. “I’d really planned to retire last year, about the time you came along with your offer. But your business seemed like such a challenge, and I just couldn’t resist.”
Her mama had always said she should have had “Born to be a Diva” tattooed on her butt the moment she was born. And she could feel a massive fit coming on hard. He couldn’t do this to her. He was deserting. “Old people retire! You’re, you’re—”
“Thirty-two. But I’m financially set, and I’m ready to get out of the city, out of the rush and craze. I’m ready to settle down. I’m going to Connecticut and open a café.”
“Connecticut!” She paced across the tiled kitchen floor. “What’s so freakin’ great about Connecticut?”
“It’s quiet and relaxing. I’ve already bought the farm. You should see it.”
Lily ground to a halt. This was a nightmare. “You bought a farm? Like with cows and chickens and stuff?”
He smiled and looked thoughtful. “No animals yet, but there are stables, so I guess I’ll get some horses. Or maybe I’ll breed dogs. Cocker spaniels or Labradors.”
She tried to picture James, suit-and-tie-at-every-hour-of-the-day-and-night James, rolling around a stable with a litter of baby cocker spaniels. Nope. The picture just wouldn’t focus.
She’d spent more than half her life on a farm. Her father had grown corn, which he’d sold to make ethanol, and her mother had believed in growing or raising nearly everything they consumed.
The work was backbreaking, hard and mostly thankless. Tractors were expensive and hard to maintain. You were always at the mercy of the weather. Chickens stank. Cows had to be led around by the nose, or they’d get struck by lightning during thunderstorms.
Suave, urban James had absolutely no idea what he was getting into.
Lily wanted to panic. Or scream. She was hitting her creative peak thanks to him. She never had to worry about the business details, because she knew he’d take care of them. He was critical to her business, to her life. She absolutely couldn’t run either of them without him.
“James, you can’t do this. I need you.”
“You’ll be fine. You were fine before I arrived.”
She shook her head, rushing toward him, tempted to jump across the bar and into his lap and bodily force him to stay. “I wasn’t fine. I was a mess. I went through two assistants in four months before you came. Before that, I was alone and clueless.”
“I’ll help you find someone else. Someone who’s reliable and understands you.”
Knowing she was acting like an idiot but not caring, she poked out her bottom lip. “I want you.”
His eyes softened. “You don’t need me, though.”
“Yes, I—”
“I have to go, Lily.” James stood, shoving his hand through his hair as he turned away, walking across the room toward the windows. “I had plans for my life. Plans that didn’t include managing spoiled movie stars and out-of-control divas.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “No offense.”
She nearly crushed the stem of her wineglass. “Oh, gee, thanks.”
He turned back to the view. Darkness had fully enveloped the sky, so the buildings were just a shadowy outline dotted with millions of lights. She knew without standing beside him what he saw when he looked down—the cabs and limos crawling through the streets, the rectangular grid of office buildings set against the silhouette of high-rises, throngs of pedestrians moving like a single determined wave across intersections.
“I’d always planned to go to culinary school,” he said quietly. “Or business school. Instead, I wound up managing my parents’ crazy career, then their friends’, then I became successful and settled on just one client at a time. I was paid well. I enjoyed the change of balancing such a complicated mix of business interests. Even life in jaded, beautiful L.A. was fun once.
“But I want out of the race. I want something else. I want to pick up my life where it veered off course fifteen years ago.”
She understood probably better than anybody how the need to fulfill your dreams was a vital part of life. But she was desperate to hold on to her own dream, and she needed James to do it. He couldn’t possibly have thought this through. He didn’t realize what he was leaving.
Shoving her wine aside, she stalked toward him. “Why a café? Hell, Starbucks is the wildest place in town.”
“My café will be more like a gathering place for the locals. You can read the paper. Exchange news and gossip. Maybe I’ll invite book clubs to meet in the evenings. I could learn to make bread and show off my famous cheesecake recipe.”
Lily darted around him and planted her hands on her hips. “You can make cheesecake?” she accused in a dangerous whisper. She was holding on to her temper by a thread. Fear was desperately trying to push its way through her body. And, at the core of it all, she just plain didn’t understand why. Why did he want to leave? How could he?
He glanced down at her, his eyes bright with affection. “I’ll make you the chocolate-turtle one before I go.”
The resolved expression on his face made her throat start to close, and not even the promise of cheesecake could cheer her. Her mind darted about for another logical argument. That was the way to get to him. She didn’t think he’d respond to tears or terror. “Why Connecticut?” she managed to ask in a strained voice. “You could open a café in the city. We could hire an assistant for you here. You could stay in charge but have more help.”
“The commotion of the city is what I’m trying to escape.” He lifted his hand as if he might stroke her cheek, then let his arm fall back by his side. “It’s not you, Lily, I promise.”
Her hands shook, but she grabbed his arm, turning him toward the windows. Tapping the glass, she asked, “Can you really leave that view, that energy, behind? God, James, I want to shake you. The city is the most amazing place on earth. When you have perfection, how could you possibly ask for more?”
“You grew up with trees and wide-open spaces. Stars you can see clearly at night. No subway or pollution in sight. How could you possibly ask for more?”
“I grew up in the boondocks! Have you ever tried to get a decent cappuccino on a farm?”
“I’ll make my own.”
“What about restaurants and takeout?”
“I’ll have those culinary-school classes to fall back on.”
“What about shoes?”
“I’d ask you to send them to me, but I really don’t think a pair of four-inch stilettos would suit me.”
Lily rubbed her temples. She certainly couldn’t outwit him, or outthink him. She had to figure out something else. And quick.
“You should get to your date.” He glanced at his watch. “Me, too. We’ll talk in the morning.” He started toward the door.
“What about watches?” she asked as she stalked after him. His calmness made her want to scream in contrast. “I bet they don’t sell cool watches on street corners in Connecticut.”
At the door, he turned back. “Maybe you’ll give me one—as a parting gift.” He reached out and grasped her hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “You look lovely tonight, by the way. That silver blouse really suits you. And, of course, it’s sparkly—perfect for the luminous Lily Reaves.”
He was out the door before she could respond.
And a good thing, too, since she wasn’t quite sure she could have resisted slugging him.
Sweet compliments as he destroyed her world by quitting? James Chamberlin had no idea how dirty she’d fight if she was pushed far enough.
No idea at all.
LIGHT-HEADED FROM her third glass of chardonnay and still depressed and frantic over James’s announcement, Lily sipped her wine and tried hard to focus on the elegant Manhattan restaurant where Brian had brought her. Black linen tablecloths, roses on the table, fine china and crystal, well-dressed patrons and spectacular service.
He certainly had excellent taste, though part of her worried about the expense. Brian’s business wasn’t nearly as successful and stable as hers.
“How are the preparations for the Spring Spectacular coming?” he asked.
Lily chewed a bite of salmon slowly to give herself time to prepare an answer to his question. She settled on a simple “Fine.”
What if this was the last big show she did? What if James’s L.A. contacts dumped her after he left? She really wanted to see a pair of her sparkly shoes on that red carpet again. What if—
She cut herself off in an effort to make coherent conversation. “How do your spring orders look?”
Brian shrugged. “Not sure. My business manager handles all that stuff.”
Though that was true for Lily as well, she certainly knew on a weekly basis how business was progressing.
“So the Spectacular preparations are going well?”
She sighed. “Yes. As usual, James has everything under control. We’re actually ahead of schedule.”
“But are you okay? You seem distracted.”
Lily laid her hand across her stomach. She was regretting this date more by the second. She should have called her friends and spent the night crying on their shoulders. “I think I’m just stressed. It’s been an…interesting day.”
“Oh.” Brian cleared his throat. “Sorry. We’ve had some great times together, don’t you think?”
Struggling to adjust to the change in conversation, she nodded slowly. “Well, yeah, I guess.”
He kicked his smile up a notch. “I think we should take our relationship to the next level.”
Lily suppressed a wince. “Well, I—”
“Will you marry me?”
Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“I think we should get married.”
This night was just too weird to comprehend. “You’re kidding.” She waved her hand as he opened his mouth to speak. “Doesn’t matter if you’re kidding or not. No.”
Cute, blond, but obviously hard-of-hearing Brian frowned. “No?”
“We’ve only been out a few times. Don’t you think it’s a bit soon to get married?”
He reached across the table and grasped her hand. His blue eyes softened. “When it’s right, why wait?”
Lily tapped her nails against the table. Do you want the whole list, or just the top twenty-five? “I’m not getting married, Brian.”
“We’ll have a long engagement.”
“Ever,” she finished.
“Of course you are, darling. You’re lovely and talented, and you need a partner who’ll support and understand you.”
“That’s what a manager is for.” With James running her life and business affairs, what did she need a husband for? She wouldn’t even think about the possibility that he’d really leave. She would find a way to talk him out of this crazy retirement thing.
Since this was the second time tonight she’d found herself dealing with a man who was dead set on pursing a really bad idea, she figured she’d give the logical argument another swing. “We don’t know each other well enough to get married.”
“I know you.”
“What’s my favorite color?”
“Uh…”
“What’s my favorite thing to do?”
“Uh…” He broadened his smile. “We’ll learn all that.”
“Sure we will. It’s called dating.” There was something very odd about all this—not just odd because she hadn’t seen this coming, but suspicious odd. “Don’t most men want sex instead of marriage? Or at least sex first?”
His eyes twinkled. “So glad you brought that up…I’m free after dinner.”
I’ll bet. Sex aside, this was just weird. She and Brian had mild chemistry and business interests in common, but nothing that warranted a proposal. What was really going on? She might be a former farm girl, but she’d lived in the city for ten years. She hadn’t just fallen off the turnip truck.
Lily pulled her hand from his grasp, then leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay. What’s the real deal?”
“We should merge our fashion empires. Think of the possibilities.”
“Our—” She didn’t have a fashion empire—though that was a promising goal—and she knew he didn’t have anything close to an empire. If he didn’t know what his sales were for the spring, he might not even have a business anymore. “So, this is a business proposition, not a proposal.”
“I figured a proposal would better appeal to you as a woman.”
“A lie, as opposed to the truth, you mean.”
He shrugged. “A woman as successful as you needs someone to support her, someone to escort her to functions, someone who won’t be offended when she puts her work first.”
She gasped. The constant reminders about the Spectacular, the seeming lack of direction regarding his business, the way he’d conveniently forgotten his wallet on their last date. It all suddenly made sense. “You’re looking for a sugar mama.”
He looked shocked for a second, then laughed. “I thought that had gone out decades ago. It’s such a charming expression.” Then he stopped abruptly and leaned forward. “Actually, yes, that’s exactly what I had in mind.”
“I see,” she said. She supposed there was still enough of the farm girl in her to actually be shocked by this jaded idea.
“You need a man who’s tied to you legally,” he went on. “One you can trust.”
“I trust James. You, however, I don’t.” She rose and tossed her napkin on her plate. “Goodbye, Brian.”
Eyes wide, Brian stood as well. “Lily, I’m only trying to help. As a woman, you’re in a vulnerable position.”
She stalked two steps forward, planted her four-inch stiletto sandals dangerously close to his instep and glared. “Do I look vulnerable to you?”
“Uh, well…actually—”
“Goodbye, Brian.” She spun away, almost plowing into the waiter who’d obviously rushed over to see what the problem was.
“Madam, can I get you some more wine?” the waiter asked, his expression carefully bland.
I need a lot more wine, pal. She gave him a wan smile. “No, thank you. I’m leaving.”
Brian grabbed her arm. “Do you think you can spot me some cash? I’m kind of tapped out.”
How the hell did she get herself into these situations? She glanced at the waiter, who’d stepped back several feet. She crooked her finger at him, and when he stood in front of her, Lily said quietly, “We’re going to be splitting the check.” She fumbled in her bag for some cash, quickly tallied her dinner, plus a tip to cover the whole check—since she doubted Brian would part with his portion—then slid the bills into the waiter’s hand.
She cut her gaze toward Brian. “He’s on his own.” Whirling, she strode out of the dining room without a backward glance. Red-faced with anger and embarrassment, she retrieved her coat, then stepped outside and asked the valet to hail her a cab. After giving the cabbie her address, she fumed in the back seat.
What was with men these days?
The guy she’d dated before Brian had only been interested in a one-night stand. Then she’d met Brian and had found his easy smile and awareness of her industry refreshing. She’d only had a moment of pause over his slightly superior attitude, though most designers had something of an ego, or at least blind ambitions. If you didn’t believe in your designs, no one else would. But had she foreseen him being a smiling hyena, looking for a woman to feed off for contacts and financial support?
No, she had to say that had been a bit unexpected.
“Merge our fashion empires. What an idiot,” she said aloud.
“Whatever you say,” the cabbie returned in a thick Brooklyn accent.
“Even if I had a fashion empire, why would I want to merge it with a guy via a marriage contract? I mean, they have regular contracts for that kind of stuff.”
“Sure they do.”
“And since I’m not even sure I want to have sex with him, I see absolutely no benefit to me. I mean, isn’t that what marriage is all about—regular and sure-thing sex?”
“Not in my house.”
Another hit to marriage. She’d seen her sister settle into her happy, domestic life, but sex never seemed at the top of her list. There was the house, the kids, the laundry and the carpool. And her husband seemed just as hurried, trying to advance at his job and earn enough to keep his family comfortable and happy.
None of it was easy. Yet they managed. They loved each other, and they managed. Lily admired them, even as she doubted her life would ever be that balanced.