RISE - Part One (The RISE Series Book 1) Page 2

  "You shouldn't have done that." I lean forward so my elbows are both resting against the top of the antique desk that the former tenant left behind. "Why wasn't it thrown out when the airplane was cleaned?"

  "Gabriel's mother grabbed it after you left the plane." His eyes search my face. "She saw you tuck it into the seat pocket after reading it. She assumed you forgot it."

  That's understandable given the fact that I could feel her eyes glued to the single sheet of yellow paper as I unfolded it and read it under the dim light that was cast from the overhead lamp I turned on when I thought she'd drifted to sleep. By the time I realized she had leaned close enough to me to make out the messy handwritten note, I hadn't cared. I knew that I'd be leaving it behind, just as I left behind the man who had written it to me. "She was mistaken."

  "How old are you, Tess?"

  I should be mildly offended by the question, but I'm not. I'm asked it frequently. I used to think it had everything to do with the uneven pattern of freckles that are scattered over my cheeks and nose. I turned to make-up to remedy that but even the blush, mascara and shadow I wear don't mask the fact that I'm young. In a city where new businesses pop up and disappear at breakneck speed, being taken seriously when you don't look like you carry the expertise needed, is a challenge.

  "How old are you?" I counter, not because I'm particularly interested in his age. I'd guess he's in his early thirties judging by his friendship with Gabriel. I researched both Caleb and Gabriel Foster before approaching them with my proposal to handle the event planning for the Liore show. I know everything there is publically known about both, including the fact that Gabriel is thirty-two years old.

  "I'm thirty-one," he says with no hesitation at all. "If I had to guess, I'd say you're twenty-one."

  With all the unwanted life experience I have I feel like I'm nearing fifty-years-old. The calendar suggests otherwise. "I'm twenty-two."

  "This seems serious for a twenty-two- year-old." He picks the envelope up between his index finger and thumb so he can wave it in the air. "How old is the guy who wrote this?"

  In human years, he's twenty-four. In emotional maturity years, he's a toddler. "It doesn’t matter."

  If the words offend him in any way he doesn't display that. On the contrary, he pushes forward. "I'm older than you so let me offer you some advice."

  I cock both brows. If I had a nickel for each time someone said that to me, I'd have enough money to buy three new office chairs. Granted, the majority of the time my father is the one offering up his unsolicited advice, but I welcome that because I know he wants me to find the best that life has to offer for myself. This man, who I don't even know, has no right to offer me anything. He may not realize that I'm wise enough to know that his advice is based on absolutely no knowledge of what brought on that written marriage proposal he's holding tightly to.

  "There may come a day when you'll want to read this again." He sets the envelope on my desk directly in front of me. "Don't let a momentary feeling ruin an entire relationship. If I was you, I'd put it in one of those desk drawers so it's still there if you want it in say, five or ten years."

  I stare down at the plain envelope. My name isn't anywhere on it. The man who wrote the letter didn't take the time to address it to me. He'd simply stopped by the hotel I was staying at, pushed the letter, along with some money at the man working the front desk and told him to make certain it was hand delivered to my room. I pick it up tentatively before I rip it in two and toss both pieces into the waste basket. "You're not me."

  Chapter 3

  "Did the pilot tell Gabriel anything about what you said to his mother?"

  I gaze past my cousin to the display of heels that adorn the far wall in this trendy boutique in SoHo. Ivy is on a break from work and when that happens, I typically drag her out of her jewelry store and into another of the overpriced shops that line this street. I'm all for dreaming about what might be and right now I'm picturing an incredibly expensive pair of red heels on my feet. I'm tempted to look down at the comfortable, black heeled sandals I'm wearing but that will burst my bubble and I'm not ready to fall back into reality for at least another two minutes.

  I'd celebrated with Ivy weeks ago when I landed the job as the Liore fashion show event planner. She's been my biggest supporter since I decided to start my own business but it's her husband, Jax Walker, who I most admire. The man has a sharp business sense that is unquestionable and he's been more than happy to share all of his expertise with me. He views me as a younger sister and since I've been in New York, his reassurance that I can make it, has given me the courage I've needed to keep steady on my career path.

  "I don't think so," I say with a half-shrug. "Gabriel told me last night what a great job I'd done. He said I surpassed his expectations."

  "Rowan said the same thing when I talked to her this morning." Ivy grins. "She said that you outdid yourself."

  The temptation to ask Ivy to put in a good word for me with her best friend, Rowan Bell, had been hard to resist when I first approached Gabriel Foster about taking on the Liore event. Rowan, Gabriel's sister-in-law, deals with most of the day-to-day business operations of the lingerie division of the Foster's fashion empire so it was plausible that if Ivy mentioned her cousin's company as a contender for handling the management of the fashion show, that I would have had an instant leg up on all the competition.

  I specifically asked Ivy not to bring the subject up with Rowan and she had handled that request with grace and understanding. Ivy has worked hard to establish herself as one of the leading jewelry designers in the country. She may have had Jax's help financially when she first opened her store, but since then, her talent has catapulted her hand-sculpted designs into some of the most sought after jewelry pieces. She understands my determination to succeed on my own merit.

  "I'm going to meet Gabriel later this week to talk about some future projects." I don't want my voice to give weight to all the excitement I'm feeling over that. I'm not the type to count my blessings before they're firmly entrenched in my hand, but this is promising, and I sense that if I handle myself well in that meeting, that I'll walk away from it with more events to plan.

  "You'll do great, Tess, "she says it with the same conviction I can see in her expression. "Remember what I told you about staying focused."

  Ivy's another one who unabashedly offers unsolicited guidance. That particular piece of advice is met with more than a little skepticism by me. I know Ivy's history. She met Jax when she was only slightly older than I am now and the tumultuous beginnings of their relationship almost sidelined her entire career. She's a success now, but her path to get there was dotted with a failed engagement to another man, a world of drama with Jax and heartbreaking betrayal by her best friend, Liz, thrown in for good measure.

  Luckily for me, my newest, and now closest, friend, Lilly Parker, lives a life that is as boring as it gets. She's a tech wizard which comes in handy when I can't get an app on my smartphone to work. She's also the doting mom of a beautiful daughter, Haven. That means I get baby cuddles whenever I want them and a sympathetic shoulder to cry on when I need it. Her husband, Clive, and I haven't spent enough time together to form a relationship that reaches beyond pleasant greetings when we see each other. I hope in time that will change, but I sense that Lilly needs our friendship to be just a girls' thing as much as I do.

  "I'm focused," I counter, not wanting to open up a discussion about what pulled me to Milan so unexpectedly. I hadn't told Ivy about the reason I boarded a flight after giving her less an hour notice that I was leaving the country for four days. She'd thrown so many questions at me on the phone that day that I'd wilted emotionally under the weight of them. I'd made up a believable excuse about needing to end the call so I could connect with some work contacts before I got to the airport and she had reluctantly wished me a safe flight with a promise that I'd call her once I landed in Italy. I had sent her a quick text message as soon as the plane touched the ground b
ut that had been all the correspondence I could manage while I was there.

  She's only asked me once, since I've been back, about what happened in Milan. I sidestepped the question because I know with Ivy's hurried life and her unending devotion to her family, that my trip will become a memory not worth mentioning before long. Her mind is filled with too many other things to dwell on something in the past.

  "You still need a man."

  The words catch me so far off guard that I actually pull my gaze from the wall of shoes to my cousin's face. She can't know how completely wrong that statement is. I had a man that I needed and it blew up in my face. "I don't need a man."

  "Is the pilot single?"

  The fact that she completely ignored my last statement should irk me but it only makes me smile. She's a romantic at heart which explains her teary eyed stories each time someone comes in to her shop to purchase an engagement ring. She loves love and it's what she wants for everyone she cares for, including me.

  I'm on a self-imposed romance break at the moment so Landon's dating status shouldn't matter to me. Hearing her ask about it ignites a spark of curiosity within me that I didn't know was even there. "I have no idea, Ivy. I didn't ask."

  "I can find out from Rowan." Her hand dips into oversized purse. "I can text her right now and get her to ask Gabriel."

  Discretion isn't Ivy's strong suit. Judging by the signals that Landon was tossing in my direction last night, it's not part of his repertoire either. He was flirting and I didn't respond in kind then. Chasing after details of his life now will only make me look pathetic especially given the fact that he probably heard from Gabriel's mother that I wanted to have my way with him on that airplane. "If I want to find a man to date, I can do it on my own."

  Her hand stills within the depths of her purse. "You don't want me to text Rowan to ask?"

  "No." I reach forward to run my hand along the length of a black belt hung on a rack by the entrance to the shop. "I'm not interested in him, Ivy. He's not the man for me."

  Chapter 4

  "Is that your dinner?"

  I feel a faint tap on my shoulder just as I hear the gruff tone of Landon's voice float into my ear. He's behind me. If I didn't recognize his voice, I'd know him by the scent of his cologne. It's the same fragrance that lingered in my office after he left three days ago.

  I look down at the small salad I'm holding in my hand as I wait in line at the deli that's less than a block from my apartment. Ivy had called with an invite to her place for dinner but I'd asked for a rain check. A night spent in, with my feet up while I plotted out what I'd say in my meeting with Gabriel Foster, is all I really want.

  "Tess?" His fingers race down my exposed arm until they reach my wrist. "It's you, isn't it?"

  I take a deep breath, remembering the conversation I had with Ivy a few days ago. I turn quickly, wanting to get this over with so I can get home to the solace of my quiet apartment. I'm instantly taken back when my eyes race over his frame.

  He's dressed as he was the first day we met, when I gripped tightly to his shirt to curb the urge I'd felt to panic during that unexpected jolt of turbulence. He looks as though he just stepped out of the cockpit of an airplane, complete with sunglasses. A small, black carry-on bag is in one of his hands. The other has dropped from my arm to my waist.

  "Landon," I say his name quietly, instantly aware of how many people's eyes are trained on the two of us. "Are you on your way to work?"

  "I just got back." He nods towards the carry-on." I was on my way home and stopped to pick up a few things. Do you live near here?"

  He's one of Gabriel Foster's closest friends so it's highly unlikely that I need to cower behind a white lie about just being in the neighborhood. He doesn’t strike me as the type of man who would follow me to my place just so he could accost me, when I least expect it, on a dark and rainy night. "I live around the corner."

  "Which corner?" By the sudden turn of his neck I can only assume that he's looking towards the street beyond the entrance to the deli. I can't see his eyes, behind the shaded lenses, which is both alluring and annoying.

  I pull the small plastic container of salad more firmly into my grip. "My building is on 57th."

  "That's close." He reaches up to remove the sunglasses, revealing his blue eyes. He squints briefly as he adjusts to the stark fluorescent lights that flood this space. "I live a few blocks away. My place is on …"

  "Next." A man's voice carries over the dull hum of the crowd. "You're next."

  That's directed at me. I take a step forward but I'm stopped by the pressure of Landon's hand on my shoulder. "Ditch that. I know a place we can grab some dinner."

  "I have some work to do," I begin as I step forward to hand the salad to the man behind the cash register. "I was going to eat in so I could do that."

  "Save that for lunch tomorrow." Landon pulls a few bills out of the front pocket of his trousers before I have time to fish my wallet from my purse. "We'll have a quick dinner and you'll still have time to work."

  I watch as he takes the change from the burly man who is already calling the next person in line to step forward. I nod as I push the salad into my bag. It's only a quick dinner. What possible harm can come from that?

  ***

  "You've never fucked a man on an airplane?"

  There's the harm. It's a direct blow to my ego.

  It's my own fault for talking about sex to a stranger on a flight. I should have known that not all mothers are like mine. Mine didn't even explain the facts of life to me when she found a box of condoms in my dresser drawer. She simply put them on my bed so I'd see them when I got home from school that day. I was a senior in high school then. I suppose it was a tactic meant to embarrass me into abstinence. Considering the fact that I'd already been sleeping with my boyfriend for a full year at that time, the condoms-in-full-view trick failed miserably.

  "Gabriel's mom?" I blurt out with an almost full mouth of food. I chew quickly watching the wide grin that spreads over Landon's full lips. "Did Gabriel's mom tell you that?"

  "Gianna thought you were adorable." His smile dims. "We shared a cab after the flight. She also said she thought you were in a lot of pain."

  That's the kind of thing I'd expect a mom to say. I hadn't opened up to her about anything in my past. I had talked about the people I met in Italy and the beauty of the architecture there. Only after I sensed her reading the letter over my shoulder did I feel a shift in the air. She had become more compassionate, asking me questions about love. I had dodged those expertly, but by then, she had enough of a stolen glimpse into my past to know that heartache had touched me.

  "I'm not in pain," I say confidently. I may have felt a small pang of the kind of regret that comes when a relationship can't be salvaged, but it's not going to define my future. I won't let that happen.

  He rakes his hand through his short brown hair. "Are you seeing anyone right now?"

  I don't answer immediately. It's a question that may hold an immense amount of promised meaning or it could just simply be a step towards another mini lecture about how I need to keep my options, concerning the man who wrote the letter, open. "No. I'm very single."

  My smartphone rings, startling me briefly. I look down at the screen, half-hoping that it's a potential new client for my business. I'm relieved when I see my father's familiar number pop up. I reach forward to silence the call knowing that my pops will understand if I don't answer. I talk to him at least two or three times a day. We have an unspoken agreement that if either of us are busy with work, that we'll text or call back as soon as we can so we don't worry the other.

  "Do you need to take that?" Landon leans forward in his chair, his eyes skimming the screen of my phone. "I can give you some privacy."

  If I played the dating games that some of my friends prescribe to, I'd be tempted to tell him I need a moment and then when he got up to give me the space he thinks I need to take the call, I'd laugh and toss my hair back as if I was
flirting with the person on the other end. It may be a technique my college roommate used to test her potential boyfriends to see if jealousy was already afoot, but I've never enjoyed games, dating or otherwise. My dad taught me to be direct if I want something in life, and right now, I want to know if Landon Beckett is interested in me.

  "It's my dad," I admit without any hesitation. "I'll call him back later."

  "Is he in New York? Do you live at home?"

  I thought we already established that I'm a full-blown adult. I try not to sound sarcastic as I answer. "My mother lives in Boston. He lives in California. He moved there a few years ago when they divorced."

  That may have been more information that he was fishing for, but I've got nothing to hide, at least here in America. Italy is another story altogether.

  "Are you close to your father?" he asks as he reaches for the glass of ice water in front of him.

  I smile. "I'm very close to him. I talk to him at least a few times a day."

  He pinches the bridge of his nose while his eyes briefly flutter shut. "It sounds like he's an important part of your life."

  "He is," I acknowledge with a brief nod of my head. "Isn't your dad important to you?"

  "My father," he begins before his tongue darts over his bottom lip. "I lost my father when I was a teenager."

  There's not enough familiarity between us for me to ask about details. I don't need to push to know more about what happened. The sorrow that I see on his face as he looks down at my smartphone as it rings again with another call from my dad tells me all I need to know about the depth of Landon's loss and how it's impacted him.