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“That would be lovely, thank you.” Karly smiled as her date poured another half glass of Cab into her goblet. He’d been attentive all evening, an excellent listener and good conversationalist. She did get the sense that he was tired and somewhat stressed, but she didn’t hold that against him. She herself was pretty wiped out, and managing models paled in comparison to prosecuting criminals. She didn’t even want to envision some of the grisly cases he must have on his plate.
It quickly became clear that he didn’t want to discuss his work. Whether that was because of confidentiality issues or simply because he wanted to escape, she took the hint and let the subject drop. Her line of work was much more conducive to casual chitchat, so she wasn’t surprised when he veered the conversation in that direction. She told him about the Lairman Modeling Agency, and about how she went from model to manager at their L.A. headquarters, then relocated here three months ago to manage their newly expanded Manhattan branch.
Charlie seemed fascinated. He interlaced his fingers and leaned forward to listen. Well into the discussion, his gaze began to stray to a point over Karly’s left shoulder, then rapidly returned to focus on her. At first, she thought he might be seeking out the waiter to inquire about dessert and coffee. But when no waiter appeared and Charlie’s distraction became increasingly evident, Karly began to feel curious, and yes, insecure.
If it was some ex-girlfriend or a random acquaintance, that was one thing. But if a younger, prettier woman had caught his eye, that would bother her—a lot. Beauty was her business. She’d devoted her life to it. She prided herself on her face and figure, not to mention her exceptional flair for fashion. Whether or not she ended up wanting Charlie Denton was irrelevant. It would be ego deflating to think he was eyeing another woman during their date.
“Charlie?” She gave him a bright smile, easing back her chair. “Would you mind ordering some coffee? I’m going to find the ladies’ room.”
“Of course.” He rose quickly to his feet and went around to pull her chair back the rest of the way.
“Thank you.” Her smile still intact, she scooped up her purse and rose, all long legs and shimmering red-gold hair. She turned around, glancing in the direction Charlie’s gaze had been straying.
She didn’t see what she’d expected to. Not by a long shot.
The restaurant was fairly quiet, since the hour had gotten late. The only occupied table in that section was a large round one, nestled in the corner. Not one of the six occupants was female. They were all older men, probably in their late fifties or early sixties. Based upon the way the maître d’ was hovering around their table and the conservative, expensive suits they wore, they were obviously VIPs. So it was a power dinner. Nothing unusual about that.
She was about to avert her gaze, when it settled on the man who was doing the talking at the moment, and recognition struck. She might have been in New York only since September, but that particular man had been making headlines a lot longer than that. She’d just seen his photo in the Enquirer, along with a sordid story about him and some twenty-four-year-old woman who’d come and gone from his staff with the speed of lightning, after they’d allegedly been spotted together in a lip-lock behind some Washington hotel.
Her brows rose, and she continued on her way to the ladies’ room. But halfway there, she glanced back over her shoulder.
Charlie Denton’s stare was aimed directly at Congressman Shore.
ACROSS THE ROOM and unaware he was being scrutinized, Arthur sliced his duck á l’orange, listening as his father-in-law made a few strong points about his proposed legislation to the four dubious businessmen who were their guests.
“Let’s not play semantics, gentlemen.” Daniel Kellerman put down his glass of wine as he spoke. “The way I see it, you’ll all be thanking Arthur for writing a bill that considers the impact on your industries. So we’ll be expecting your support.”
The four CEOs exchanged glances. “Okay, we get it.”
“I thought you would.”
ELYSE WAS LYING in bed, staring at the ceiling, when she heard the front door open, then quietly shut. She glanced at the illuminated numbers on her alarm clock: 1:15. Way too late for La Grenouille to be open on a weeknight.
From out in the hall, the familiar late-night sounds echoed—Arthur hanging up his coat, shutting the closet door, and locking up for the night. Then his footsteps. He didn’t come straight to the bedroom, but stopped off in the den, no doubt to make his usual late-night phone calls.
Elyse rolled onto her side, feeling none of the pain she once had, only emptiness and resignation. When had that transition occurred? she wondered. When had caring become weariness, and then just a hollow void?
Sometime between then and now.
So much had happened. So much that had complicated everything, sapped away her emotional reserve. It had been hard enough in the beginning, but the facade had taken its toll. The lie she was living was starting to suck the life out of her.
Idly, she thought back to college, to the days when Lara was alive and the two of them had the bold dreams of youth. Both of them were going to restore and revitalize humanity—Lara, emotionally and psychologically; she, physically and nutritionally. Somewhere along the way, Jack and Arthur had entered the picture. But they’d only augmented the dreams, made them bigger. Never detracting, only enhancing.
That had been a lifetime ago.
Bonds had been forged, vows taken. Careers took off. Then, just three months apart, Jill and Morgan were born. It was a time of joy. The dreams of the Winters and the Shores should have continued to grow.
They didn’t.
Priorities shifted. Everything started crumbling. Elyse had clung to denial as long as she could. Eventually, that stopped working. So she’d moved on to keeping up appearances.
Tragedy struck, and the world unraveled.
Pressing her lips together, Elyse rolled onto her other side, just as the bedroom door opened a crack and Arthur slipped in. He moved around the room quietly, changing into the gym shorts he wore to bed, then disappearing into the bathroom to wash up.
Ten minutes later, he came to bed. He eased between the sheets with as little motion as possible.
As usual, he didn’t want to awaken her.
