Arms of Promise
Authors: Crystal Walton
Copyright © 2016 by Crystal Walton.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Published by Impact Editions, LLC
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout ©2013 BookDesignTemplates.com
Cover Design © 2016 Victorine Lieske
Author Photo by Charity Mack
Arms of Promise/Crystal Walton.
ASIN: B01HVLH1MU
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Chapter One
Home
Annabelle Madison could kill her sister for putting her in this situation. Again.
In a Chicago restaurant’s swanky bathroom, she smoothed out the pale yellow dress Reese had managed to talk her into wearing for this blind date. She’d rather be in sweats right now, curled up with her tabby and a
Gilmore Girls
marathon.
The thought expanded into a smile until another cramp tightened her back and stomach. This couldn’t be a worse night for a date. Not that any night with “Luke The Lawyer” would’ve been a good one. His textured tie and Armani cologne had his motives written all over them. Cozy up to her to get in with her dad at the DA’s office. Too bad for him, he wasn’t the first to try. After twenty-four years, Anna had learned how to dodge the sharks.
Her bracelet clinked against the porcelain sink as she gripped either side.
Just make it through dinner
.
As if laughing at her, an overhead dispenser released a burst of spray directly on her head. Great. Now, she smelled like cinnamon bathroom air freshener. Classy. Then again, if it turned off Mr. Uptown, it might pay off.
Her cell rang from the tiny clutch purse Reese had lent her for the night. She tipped it out and shook her head. Should’ve known her sister would call to check in. “Just so you’re aware, I accept chocolate for penance.”
Reese huffed into the line, probably rolling her eyes. “Oh, c’mon. How bad can it be? You’re at Blackbird with a total catch.”
“I think sellout is the word you’re looking for. And he’s not even the worst part. I had to get a pad out of the bathroom dispenser.” Anna glared at the taunting metal box on the wall. “Have you ever had to use one of these monstrosities? Seriously, if it weren’t three inches thick, its crazy long wings would take flight. Now, I’m stuck waddling around like I have a throw pillow stuffed between my legs.”
Reese cracked up. “You have a gift for being dramatic. You know that?”
“Comes with being a dancer.”
“Okay, drama queen. At least try to enjoy the evening. You could use some fun in your life.”
Anna adjusted the lacy belt around her waist. “I have plenty of fun.”
“Oh, really? You have no real friends, you avoid your family half the time, and you blow off every guy interested in you. I’m sorry, which part constitutes fun exactly?”
And once again, Reese took first place in the world’s least tactful category.
“It’s one date, Anna. Stop thinking so much, and live it up a little, will ya?”
Right. Anna hiked up the shoe strap sliding down her ankle and peeked out the bathroom door toward her empty seat across from Luke. “Fine. Let me go before he thinks I fell in the toilet.”
“Please promise me you won’t make that joke at the dinner table.”
Of course not. Because
that
would actually be fun. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Details later!”
As if there’d be any. Anna shimmied her cell back inside her mini purse and strode for the table, trying not to waddle like a duck. She could handle this. Dinner, small talk, laughter in the appropriate places. She was a performer, for Pete’s sake. What was one more routine to push through?
Luke rose halfway out of his chair as Anna took her seat. “Everything all right?”
Hardly. “Yep.” She laid a black cloth napkin over her lap. “Just fine.”
“Good.” He scooted in his chair and motioned to a bottle of wine. “I took the liberty of ordering us a Cabernet while we wait. I hope that’s okay. Our waiter said he’ll have our plates out in another few minutes.”
“Perfect.” Okay, one and two word responses probably didn’t count as sufficient small talk. Maybe that drink wasn’t such a bad idea. She lifted the cool glass to her lips and sipped the full-bodied wine.
A draft from the front door stirred up clouds of cologne on its way across her bare shoulders. If it didn’t go against her convictions, she might’ve asked the lady at the next table for her mink shawl.
Anna almost snorted. Decked out in eveningwear and jewelry, Chicago’s finest filled the room with their haughty laughter and ravenous gazes. All caught up in a world of self-absorption and false security—a world she’d almost let consume her once.
What was she doing here? She stayed away from her family’s lifestyle for a reason. Until Reese laid a guilt trip on her, anyway. Now here she was, another impractical girl donning a spaghetti strap dress at the end of November. Reese better bring that chocolate over by the pound.
Looking up at the high ceiling, Anna mindlessly swished the liquid in her glass. What were the chances she could talk Luke into cutting the date short enough for her to make a run to the studio before going home? At least there, she could tune everything else out.
Luke cleared his throat. “So, what do you think?”
She dropped her gaze to his. She’d totally missed what he’d just asked. “About?”
“About lunch tomorrow. With your dad.”
And there it was. The real reason any of Reese’s approved suitors feigned an interest in her. Anna downed two-thirds of her wine to repress the honest response wrestling to the surface.
He leaned against the wingback chair. “You don’t really want to be here, do you?”
Way to pick up on the obvious, Sherlock
.
Maybe you should be a detective instead of a lawyer.
If his glower were any indication, he must’ve read her thoughts.
She bit her lip, set her glass down, and twisted the napkin in her lap. What was she supposed to say?
A shadow stretched across their table. “Anna?”
The voice she’d given up on ever hearing again eclipsed the droning murmurs of chatter and clinking dinnerware echoing around the room. Her head whipped toward the sound, but every other part of her remained frozen.
Including her vocal chords.
In a dress shirt and dark jeans, Evan O’Riley stood in front of the table with shoulders quite possibly two times broader than they’d been in high school.
Anna blinked, positive she conjured him up. She hadn’t allowed herself to admit it, but while in the bathroom, she’d half wished he were still around so they could pull the fake-boyfriend-escape routine they used to do as teens. But he couldn’t really be here. There wasn’t another logical explanation. She was officially certified.
Luke shifted in his seat beneath Evan’s towering presence. “I’m sorry. Can I help you?”
“Yeah, you can help by backing away from my girlfriend.” Evan held a straight face, intimidating and sultry all at once.
“Girlfriend?” Luke scoured the room of staring faces and lowered his voice. “Annabelle, what’s he talking about?”
Evan released Luke from an intense gaze, long enough to signal to Anna her part of the routine was up next.
Except that required breathing.
His brow creased slightly, hazel eyes giving in to a hint of uncertainty.
Dry swallows forced their way down Anna’s throat. Water. She needed water.
Without unlocking her gaze from Evan’s, she reached in the general direction of her glass until her fingers bumped into it. The goblet clattered over and sent water gushing down the side of the tablecloth and onto the floor.
She jumped up, banged her knees against the table, and backed into their waiter. In case the entire scene couldn’t get any more embarrassing, she latched on to Evan’s arm to seal the deal. He cradled her close, and her knees almost gave way.
The second Luke rose from his chair, Evan held up a ridiculously muscled arm at him. “I’ll take it from here, big guy.”
Leaving a speechless Luke behind, Evan escorted Anna toward the door. He grabbed her coat on the way out and draped it over her shoulders. “You okay?”
Only if not being able to breathe counted as okay. She needed to get out of here.
Anna turned and almost collided with a street performer painted in gold. Flinching, she wheeled around and bumped into Evan’s solid body. With nowhere to go, she finally backed against the cold brick siding. How could there be no air outside either?
He brushed her hair back from her cheeks and searched her face. “Bells?”
The nickname only he and her mom ever used drew her focus. Her eyes found his. They seemed older, more experienced. Without thinking, Anna lifted her fingers to the strands of hair just above his ear. A hallucination couldn’t feel this real, could it?
Evan cupped her hand and brought it down to her side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you in there. You were giving our old signals. I thought you wanted me to—”
“I did.” Thank God, her voice worked again. “Trust me. You couldn’t have intervened soon enough. It’s just . . . How did you . . . ? When did you . . . ?” A lot of good it did for her voice to function if her brain didn’t.
When he stepped back, the Christmas lights on the awning illuminated a look she didn’t understand. “I’m on leave.”
He never came home on leave, did he? If so, why hadn’t he ever contacted her? Anna’s stomach churned at the possible reasons. She took in the sight of him. Filling out a dress shirt with a stature she didn’t recognize. He could’ve been someone else.
Maybe he was. So much time had passed.
“So, you come home out of the blue and decide to go to Blackbird?” This wasn’t his type of scene. Unless that’d changed, too.
Exhaling, Evan rubbed the base of his neck. “It wasn’t my choice.”
The door beside them opened, and a stunning Latina with lashes almost as long as her heels approached. “Evan, what’s going on?” She curled her manicured fingers around his arm and pressed into him.
So much for Anna regaining her breath. A brown paper bag underneath a city bench caught her eye. Hard liquor had never looked more tempting.
“I was helping out an old friend,” Evan said in a completely controlled tone.
“Oh, good.” The girl bubbled forward and extended a hand. “It’s such a relief to have contacts in a new place, isn’t it? I’m Marissa . . .”
Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.
“Evan’s girlfriend.”
The wind coursing over the sidewalk was nothing compared to the way those two words gutted Anna straight down the middle. She begged her face not to wince as she returned Marissa’s delicate handshake.
Evan stared at the pavement. The wind had to be cutting through his blue button-down, but he didn’t so much as twitch. Why couldn’t Anna be made of steel, too?
They hadn’t seen each other in five years. Of course his life had carried on. She had no reason to expect anything different. If she could just figure out how to get common sense to infiltrate her heart, she wouldn’t be standing here as incoherent as a Macy’s mannequin.
Everything about the scene joined the cold, damp air stinging her eyes. Stupid hormones.
“Are you all right?” Marissa transferred her hand from Anna’s arm to Evan’s. Even a scrunched look of pity didn’t come close to diminishing the beauty in her features.
Shake it off, already
. Anna slipped her arms through her coat sleeves. “I’m fine. The wine must not be sitting well. I should get going.” She buttoned the last notch on her coat, withdrew her gloves from her pockets, and gestured toward the ominous sky. “You guys go back and enjoy your dinner. I’m going to walk home before the rain starts.”
Evan looked up and down the dark street. “Not gonna happen.”
Anna raised a brow. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not walking all the way home.”
“I have an apartment off Fiftieth Street now. It’ll take me a whole eight minutes to walk to the nearest ‘L’ station. It’s no big deal. Besides, I could use the exercise.” After missing her Contemporary Hip-Hop class tonight, her tight muscles were threatening protest.
He sent a yeah-right glance at her heels. Okay, bad cover.
“Why don’t you drive her, babe?” Marissa peered inside the restaurant’s windows.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, no rush. I think I see Jeff Glibson from the Chicago Tribune.” Her striking round eyes glittered with noticeable intrigue. “Never know when a story’s brewing.” She gave a cute raise of her shoulder. “I’ll catch a ride back to my hotel. We’ll meet up later.”
Anna turned away from them. The strum of a guitar from the opposite corner joined the “L’s” constant hum from the nearby train tracks. With the buzz of downtown’s street life surrounding them, she should’ve been able to drown out the smacking sound of the girl’s lips meeting Evan’s. Anna clutched the bottom of her coat cuffs. Deep breath.
Marissa sashayed inside, and Evan withdrew his keys from his pocket. “She’s a journalist.”
Anna nodded her understanding. Apparently, her voice decided to go AWOL again. Probably better that way. None of the tangled thoughts unraveling in her head needed to come out in front of him. Or at all.
He led her toward a charcoal Accord with tinted windows and opened her door. Scents of leather and what must’ve been a trace of Marissa’s perfume billowed from inside. Maybe Anna would luck out, and it’d mask the cinnamon bathroom spray still clinging to her hair.
She sank onto the seat, thankful to be out of the wind. Though, seated next to Evan in silence might’ve been worse. More than his size, his whole aura filled the car. Like an officer who commanded authority without any words. How much had the army changed him?
