RISE - Part One (The RISE Series Book 1) Page 3

Chapter 5

  "You're telling me that he ditched you because your dad kept calling you?"

  Leave it to Lilly to spell the humiliation of last night out for me. "I wouldn't say that exactly."

  She tips her chin towards me. "You said he asked if you were single, but then when your dad called you a second time, he got up and left."

  If we are going to dissect every aspect of my dinner with Landon, minute-by-minute, I'm going to need something stronger than the cup of tea I picked up on my way to Lilly's office. I tried to explain on the phone what happened last night, but she was insistent that I hop on the subway and come down to her office. Since I have absolutely nothing on my agenda today, I readily agreed. I got her a cup of herbal tea too since she's given up coffee while she's breastfeeding.

  "He did leave shortly after that call." I nod slowly. I've replayed everything that happened last night in my mind since Landon abruptly stood to end our dinner while I was still putting food into my mouth. Just a few minutes after I silenced the second call from my dad, he left under the veil of an excuse about needing to get to bed early because he was jet lagged.

  He told me, when we first arrived at the restaurant, that he'd picked up a quick round trip job to Chicago and had landed ninety minutes before I saw him at the deli. How that translates into going to sleep at eight o'clock is beyond me.

  "I bet he's not used to hanging out with women your age." She taps a few keys on her laptop. "I just need to finish this code quickly. I can talk while I'm doing it."

  Of course she can. If the baby was here, she'd also be cradling her in her arms right now. I've never known anyone as organized and efficient as Lilly.

  When we met, shortly after I arrived in New York, we hit it off instantly. I was at a dinner party at Jax and Ivy's apartment. The room was filled with a sea of unfamiliar faces and suddenly, this fiery ball of red hair broke through and came walking towards me. She introduced herself as the wife of one of Jax's cousins.

  I didn't have to say another word the entire evening. I tried, but in her nervous excitement she gave me a condensed version of her life story. It was painful to listen to and at the end of the night, when she pulled me into a tight embrace against her then swollen, pregnant, belly, I knew I'd made a friend for life.

  "Maybe I just can't read men." I pull my hand to my mouth in an effort to stifle the uncontrollable giggle that accompanies the statement. The moment the words leave my lips I realize the absurd irony in them.

  Her fingers pause as she turns to look at me. "What's so funny?"

  It's not a question based in sarcasm. She's genuinely puzzled by the glee I'm taking in my admission that I don't know anything about men. I don't blame Lilly for not understanding. I've never told her about the man who wrote that marriage proposal to me. Some secrets are better left hidden away forever.

  "It's nothing." I take another careful sip of the tea from the paper cup. "I think it's a sign that I should be focusing on my career."

  "Oh shit." She closes her laptop with a quick flip of her hand. "I'm sorry, Tess. I completely forgot to tell you something."

  I lean forward. I already know that she's going to tell me something about her baby. I love stories about the sweet things Haven does, even if the majority of them are about how she looks when she's asleep or the cute outfit Lilly dressed her in that day. "What did the baby do this morning?"

  "The baby?" She runs her finger over her brow. "She smiled at me before I left for work."

  The priceless look of utter contentment on Lilly's face is worth the crowded subway ride to get here. "Did you get a picture of it?"

  "No." She shakes her head slightly. "That's not what I needed to tell you. This is about work."

  "Your work?" I glance towards the corridor outside her open office door. I'm always impressed when I arrive at the tower that houses Hughes Enterprises, the company Lilly works for. It's an environment that suits her perfectly and judging by how excited she always is when she calls me from here, I know she's found the place she belongs.

  "Your work," she corrects me with a pointed finger in my direction. "I have a job for you."

  The last time she said that it was planning a birthday party for a five-year-old boy whose family lives in the same building as Lilly. It was a gesture that came from her desire to help me. I was touched, even though the job itself didn't fit into my criteria for budget or exposure. I'd sat down with the boy's mother one afternoon in Central Park and had helped her formulate a pirate themed birthday party for her son and six of his friends on a budget of less than a hundred dollars.

  "What kind of a job?" I ask, knowing that whatever it is, I'll help. Taking on the task of assisting in planning someone's birthday or anniversary party may not add to my professional portfolio, but it does give me something to do and the feeling of accomplishment it provides is a rush that's hard to describe.

  "It's for Corteck." She lowers her voice to a faint whisper.

  The action is telling. Corteck, the company that Lilly's husband, Clive, owns is a direct competitor of Hughes Enterprises in the field of tech development. Lilly's assured me, more than once, that the rivalry only adds spice to her marriage. I've seen her and Clive together, and it's hard to imagine how anything, especially a business conflict, could tear them apart. She's also told me that her boss, Alec Hughes, is fine with the arrangement, as long as Lilly doesn't spend her time in the office talking about the latest app or gadget her husband has developed.

  "Corteck?" I parrot back, mimicking her tone.

  "Clive is planning a gala dinner and silent auction." Her entire face beams. "It's to raise funds for organ donation. It's not for months, but he wanted me to ask if you'd be interested. It's for charity, but he'll pay you."

  I'm tempted to tell her I'll pitch in for free, but I have rent to pay and a health insurance premium to cover. I need the money and knowing what I do about Clive Parker, I sense he'll be generous. If I play my cards right, and the numbers line up, I can donate a portion back to the cause. "You know I'll do it, Lilly. Tell him to call me."

  "Why don't you just come over for dinner one night next week?" She skims her fingers over the screen of her smartphone. "We can do Wednesday or Thursday night. Maybe you can bring Landon."

  I know the last remark is meant to pull a laugh from me, but it doesn't. It's not that Lilly's comment isn't playful and teasing. It's that I have no idea whether I'll ever see the man again, and for some reason, that makes me feel a tinge of regret.

  Chapter 6

  "We're opening a Liore location in Los Angeles in three months." Gabriel buttons his suit jacket as he turns to look at me. He's standing in front of a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook lower Manhattan. He's imposing and when he called me directly earlier to ask me to stop by his office, I had pushed my excitement aside and had handled the conversation like the professional I want to be.

  Now, less than an hour later, I can almost feel another check in my hands. He's about to ask me to handle the launch of that boutique.

  "That's exciting," I offer merely out of respect. It matters little to me where the next Liore store opens. What does matter is that I become the only person Gabriel Foster considers when he's thinking of planning an event that will draw the right balance of publicity and potential customers.

  "I want you to put together a proposal for a grand opening event." He nods towards where I'm seated on a black leather sofa. "The fashion show last week was pure genius, Tess. Some of the footage the guests captured on their smartphones has gone viral. I want something just as unique for Los Angeles."

  I should be intimidated by that, but I'm not. I've been bouncing ideas around in my own mind since I left the warehouse after the show that night. I anticipated being asked to handle the launch of the next boutique opening which means I'm already past the pre-planning stage. I want to run my idea of a portable pop-up lingerie shop past him.

  The idea is simple, yet the impact would be far-reaching. If we rent an e
nclosed truck and turn it into a mobile Liore pop-up boutique, we can drive a level of interest that can't be paralleled with a simple launch party complete with champagne and expensive canapés. We drive the truck through the streets of Los Angeles, stopping at a different location twice a day for the entire week preceding the official opening of the store. The impact that would have on social media would be vast. The women, and men, visiting the portable boutique would be encouraged to take pictures and post them online.

  "I'd like to hear your proposal next week. Do you think that's enough time for you to formulate a plan?"

  I smile. I have only a few logistical matters to clear before I present my idea to him. I want to make certain that my idea won't be greeted with any unforeseen challenges in California, so I still have a few calls to make and items to mark off my checklist. "I can meet on Monday morning. Does that work for you, Mr. Foster?"

  He tilts his chin towards me with a quick cock of his left brow. "Monday morning is fine. I'll have my assistant call to firm up the time."

  "That's perfect," I say as I straighten in my seat. "I'm looking forward to working together again."

  He may not say a word in response, but the curve of his lips into a sly smile, says it all.

  ***

  "Are you here on official business, Tess?"

  I almost run him over as I exit the elevator in the lobby of the building that houses Foster Enterprises. My left hand lands on his chest which is covered by a light blue dress shirt. Even though he's wearing jeans with it, he looks polished and urbane. The man definitely knows how to dress himself which may or may not have something to do with the fact that his friend runs one of the most successful fashion brands in the world.

  "Landon," I say his name although I quickly realize there's no reason to. I sound breathy and flustered which makes sense given that's exactly how I feel. As soon as I'd stepped into the elevator, my fingers began frantically skimming across my smartphone's screen. I was typing notes related to the event that I'd just discussed with Gabriel. When I heard the chime and felt the jarring stop that signaled the lift's arrival in the lobby, I'd followed the others who had occupied the car with me as they began to exit and that was when I heard his voice. It's deep, gruff and has an unmistakable growl to it.

  "Were you here to see Gabriel?" He gestures towards the still open doors of the elevator.

  I glance down and that's when I realize that I'm the reason the lift hasn't charged back up to the higher floors of the building at full speed. I'm standing right on the threshold of the elevator. The heavy steel doors won't close until the area is clear and the grumbled complaints of the few passengers who are now boarded and ready to get moving finally brings me back to reality.

  I take a heavy step towards Landon who firmly stands his ground. The toes of my red pumps are now touching his black loafers. This is the closest I've been to him. I pull in a deep breath as I remind myself that this is the same man who took his hasty leave at dinner the other night when my pops couldn't stop calling me.

  "How have you been?" Yes, that's my voice. It came out of nowhere. That's wrong. It came out of my desire to talk to him. "Have you flown any airplanes lately?"

  If the man needed another reason to label me immature, inexperienced or way too young for him, I just handed it to him on a silver platter. I actually just asked a pilot if he's flown any airplanes lately.

  Fuck my life.

  "As a matter of fact, yes, I have." He flashes a wide grin as he leans down and closer to me. "I'd like to tell you all about it over lunch."

  "Lunch?" I gaze down at my watch but once again, any sense of calm it may offer isn't there. "It's lunch time."

  "That's why I suggested we have lunch." He runs the last word over his tongue with a slow roll. "Are you busy or do you have time for a bite?"

  I have time for a bite, or a lick or whatever those full, moist lips and that tempting mouth that is hovering so close to me is offering. "I can eat."

  "I noticed that the other night," he counters with a raise of both brows. "I know the perfect place. The food is delicious."

  "Lead the way." I motion towards the main doors of the building. "I'm right behind you."

  Chapter 7

  "This is your apartment," I point out the obvious after he closes the door behind me.

  "I'm going to make you lunch."

  I look around the modest space. I'm not sure what I expected when we approached the building. There wasn't a maître d' in sight. The tempting fragrance of overpriced food didn't greet me.

  I didn't miss a step as I followed him through the lobby and watched him nod towards the doorman. I smiled sweetly when we boarded the elevator with several other people and I willingly got off on the sixth floor with him. Now, I'm standing in the foyer of his place, with no one else in sight. I either just walked into a trap or I'm about to find out if Landon Beckett possesses any skills as a chef.

  "You can cook?" I blurt the question out with a smile. "I mean, a lot of people in the city don't cook."

  "I cook." He reaches for my purse. "One of my closest friends is a chef. He taught me everything I know about food. You may have heard of him. His name is Tyler Monroe."

  Everyone who knows food in Manhattan has heard of Tyler Monroe. He's one of the fastest rising stars in the culinary world. I caught my first glimpse of him two months ago when he was on one of the morning shows on television doing a cooking segment. Admittedly, it was the way he looked that first caught my eye. He's gorgeous, in a just-rolled-out-of-bed kind of way. I'd actually sat down with my coffee to watch the entire segment, even though I had every intention of getting to my office early to cold call some potential new clients.

  "Do you know who he is, Tess?"

  Judging by the playful lilt in his voice I instantly wonder if he's teasing me. I set myself up for it when I acted like an infatuated school girl back at the offices of Foster Enterprises. He's probably expecting me to tell him that the only chef I know is the guy who works the grill at the fast food place that's two doors down from my building.

  I place my hand on my waist. "I know exactly who Tyler Monroe is. He's been the head chef at some of the most prestigious restaurants here and in Boston. He's opening a new restaurant with the owner of Axel, Hunter Reynolds, soon. My cousin's husband is an investor in that."

  A ghost of a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth but it's gone in a flash. "Your cousin is Ivy Marlow? You two are related?"

  I'm not surprised that he knows who Ivy is. Her custom designed jewelry pieces have been popping up on the necks, ears and wrists of celebrities for the past few years. She may not be a household name yet, but it's not uncommon for an article about her, and her success, to be featured in the financial news or the arts section of one of the country's major newspapers.

  "Our fathers are brothers," I confess. "I'm very proud of her."

  "I don't blame you." He studies my face. "She's incredibly talented. I've seen a few pictures of her. She's stunning. You have the same green eyes as her."

  I don't feel anything but gratitude at the words. Ivy is one of the most beautiful women I've ever known. There is a slight family resemblance in our features but the similarity in our eyes is unmistakable. Her eyes are the same faint green that mine are. "She is stunning."

  His brow furrows slightly. "You're even more gorgeous than she is."

  The intention behind the words may be to pull a blush from me but that's not the reaction he gets. I want the compliment to be rooted in truth so I accept it as such with a gracious smile. "Thank you."

  "I thought you were breathtaking when I first saw you on the airplane." His eyes scan my face. "I had trouble focusing for the rest of the flight."

  That's flattering, but at the same time, it's hardly reassuring. I push past the instant anxiety I always feel when I think about flying. "I should apologize for what I said to Gabriel's mom."

  "Gianna," he corrects me gently as he steps closer.

  "Yes, Gianna
," I repeat back. "I wasn't thinking clearly when I said those things."

  "What things exactly?" he whispers the question just as his fingers leap to my chin.

  Instinctively I know I should pull back. I should quiet my body's need with my rational mind and tell this incredibly handsome man that I need to get back to my office. Instead, I swallow hard and lick my lips before I literally pant a quick breath. "I said things about you."

  His eyes drop to my mouth and his own tongue darts out to moisten his lips. "You told her you like my voice."

  It's the tamest thing I said to her about him. I'd closed my eyes when he first spoke from the cockpit to the full capacity international flight. His voice was a calming force for me and when the plane had taxied down the runway towards take-off, I'd imagined a composed, confident, indestructible man at the helm of the aircraft.

  "You have a nice voice." In my unabashed attempt not to stare at his lips I drop my gaze to his jaw which is covered in the soft stubble of his beard.

  His index finger slowly glides over my bottom lip. "What do you like about it?"

  I look up and we lock eyes. "It's deep. It's strong."

  "What else did you say to Gianna?"

  I almost moan aloud when his finger slowly glides from my lips down my chin before it slides slowly over the smooth, soft skin of my neck. "I said that I wanted to touch you."

  I actually told her, in no uncertain terms, that if I was going to lose my sky high virginity that he'd be the one to take it. I may have been feeling a little tipsy during that conversation, but I was still cognizant of the words coming out of my mouth. I didn't want to be crude, but my body had been aching for his touch.

  Any fleeting glance I may have caught of his face was lost in my panic over the turbulence that sent me into his arms when I exited the lavatory. My desire for him had been driven by the intoxicating smell of his cologne mixed with the sheer masculine strength in his touch when he'd grabbed hold of my arms. I'd sheepishly apologized for panicking and when he'd leaned down to assure me that he'd keep me safe, my body's response had been primal. I'd never felt that before and as I lowered myself back into seat 2B and watched him walk back into the cockpit, I wondered what it would feel like to be kissed and taken by a man like that.