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“No. Why models? I always played an international diplomat and Annika played a CEO.” One heel caught in the carpet and she caught herself just in time before twisting her ankle.
“Walk it off, walk it off,” he encouraged her, as if they were at batting practice and someone had just gotten hit with a pitch. “You got this.”
“This isn’t the Olympics,” she snorted.
He shifted into dramatic sports movie mode. “You’ve trained your whole life for this. All those early-morning practices. All those late-night lifting sessions.”
“Don’t forget the carbo-loading,” she said through her laughter.
“That’s right. It all leads up to this moment. This is when champions are forged and names are written in the history books.”
“Stop! You’re making me laugh too much.” She wobbled perilously for a moment. He winced, wondering if he should dive to her rescue. But she steadied herself, stood tall, and glared at him. “That wasn’t fair. Now let’s get down there before I get a blister.”
He offered his arm again, for support, but she waved him off. “No touching. No drinking. No…coziness.”
He squinted at her.
“You know what I mean. We behave like two people who used to be connected but who aren’t anymore. Like…” She searched for a comparison as he handed over her wrap and clutch. “Like you said before…members of a band that broke up in the seventies over drug use.”
“Hey. I object. No drugs were involved. What if they broke up over creative differences?”
“Fine. Creative differences it is. Everyone wanted their own solo album.”
He opened the door for her. The heels gave her so much height that her hair brushed his nose as she passed under his arm. It smelled like lemons and honey. “But they’re getting back together for one more show,” he said as he followed her down the hallway to the elevator.
“But all the same creative differences still exist, as shown by their solo work, which shows they went in opposite directions.”
“I wouldn’t say opposite,” he murmured as the elevator doors opened. “I’d say complementary. You’re the Lennon to my McCarthy. The Stevie Nicks to my Mick Fleetwood.”
The discussion continued while the elevator carried them to the ground level. “You could be the Beyoncé to my Destiny’s Child,” she said thoughtfully. “They still sing together sometimes, but it’s mostly Beyoncé in the spotlight.”
“Not bad. But you’d be the Beyoncé.”
“Why me? You’re the one everyone wants to see.”
“Any Midwestern mushroom, tropical butterfly or boreal lichen scientist would consider you the star.”
Her eyes widened. “You remember all my contracts.”
“Of course I do.”
Why was she so surprised? She seemed so touched that for a moment, he thought she was going to kiss him. Then the doors opened to welcome more awards dinner guests into the elevator.
He caught appreciative glances from the two women who’d walked in, but barely noticed because the men were openly admiring Jenna in her mist-green dress and her graceful updo. She noticed too, and edged closer to Billy, as if she wasn’t used to attention from strange men.
She probably wasn’t, since Lake Bittersweet was filled with people she already knew, except in the summers when she was busy with the boys. It didn’t seem fair, now that he thought about it. He met new people all the time, including women. How was she supposed to meet someone new?
On the other hand, selfishly, he wasn’t mad about it. If Jenna got involved with a new man, he wasn’t sure how he’d handle it. Things would definitely get more complicated. Even the thought made his stomach tighten with…sadness? Regret? Wishes for another chance to get things right?
“Billy Cooper?” said one of the women, her eyes filled with warm excitement. “I heard you were coming, but I never imagined I’d be in an elevator with you.”
“See? You’re the Beyoncé,” Jenna whispered. “I might have to call you Queen B from now on. You don’t mind, do you?”
He grinned down at her. He’d been absolutely right. Jenna was going to make this event much more fun.
Fourteen
Jenna knew very well that the best-looking man at the Helping Hands awards dinner was by her side. That wasn’t just her opinion, either. It was cold, hard, very obvious fact. She didn’t need all those flattering glances and surreptitious up-and-down scans to confirm it. She also knew that many of the people checking out Billy must be curious about the woman he was with.
