Playing for Keeps (15 page)

 

“Quentin, is everything okay?” Dante asked when his friend kept staring at his cell phone every few minutes.

“I'm sorry, Dante,” Quentin replied. “I'm just waiting for a phone call.” He'd been waiting for Avery to call him back and tell him how the meeting with her biological mother went, but she hadn't called. He'd left several messages and she still hadn't responded. He was worried.

“From Avery Roberts, I presume?” Dante asked. “For someone who claimed this was only a bet, you sure have spent a lot of time with the lady.” Dante wasn't blind. Quentin had fallen for the art buyer, but refused to admit it to anyone including himself.

“I suppose I have,” Quentin said. “Dante, Avery has surprised me. I thought she was cold and haughty, but now that I've gotten to know her, she's the exact opposite. She's really quite warm and sincere and did I mention extremely passionate?”

“And we know how important that is to you.” Dante smiled. “Seriously, though, I'm glad you've found someone to make you happy even if it did start with a bet. Did you tell her about that?”

“No, I haven't. I doubt she'd be too thrilled with me.” Worse yet, Quentin was afraid that Avery would dump him on the spot. He should never have made the bet to begin with. It was a juvenile thing to do and now he was forced to live with his actions.

“You never know. Maybe she'll take it as a compliment that you wanted to get to know her,” Dante said, trying to sound optimistic.

“I doubt that.” Quentin shook his head. “She'd take it as an insult, because initially I did think she was all those things, but I was wrong.”

“Then admit that, too,” Dante suggested. “Honesty is always the best policy.”

“Where did honesty get me with Malik?” Quentin hadn't seen a hair on Malik's head since the meeting with King. “It got me nowhere,” he continued, answering his own question.

“You have to end this war with Malik, Quentin.” Dante was tired of this feud. Growing up, they'd had fights before, but this was different. He'd never seen Malik so angry, so distant, so brooding.

“Any suggestions on how I might accomplish that?”

“Well…talking it out might help.”

“He doesn't return my calls.”

“Then confront him and don't let up until he stops being so stubborn,” Dante said.

“Thanks for the advice.” Quentin pulled his wallet out and slid a ten Dante's way for the beer. Maybe Dante was right. If he didn't let up, eventually Malik would cave in and forgive him.

“What are you doing?” Dante pushed the money back his way.

“Listen, my friend—” Quentin left the money on the bar and walked to the door “—you need all the paying customers you can get. Why don't you stop being so stubborn and take the money, ya hear?” He pointed at the cash before leaving.

“I'll do that.” Dante smiled and put the money in the register.

 

Quentin had decided to wait to call Avery again until the next day. He'd thought about it last night and perhaps she was emotionally drained and needed some time to herself. It wasn't every day you met the mother who'd given you up for adoption.

Quentin focused his energies that morning on his last shadowing session with Richard King before the Manhattan Chamber of Commerce crowned him Businessman of the Year on Saturday night. Quentin was glad this assignment was nearing its end and he could finally repair the damage that had been done to his relationship with Malik. He just hoped it wasn't too late.

“I know you'll be working in an official capacity, Quentin, but will you be bringing a date to the gala?” Richard inquired after his meeting had ended.

“I hadn't really thought about it,” Quentin replied. He was there to do a job, not socialize. He'd done the honorable thing and abided by the commitment his agent had made for him. He didn't want to spend more time with Richard King, because try as he might he was finding it hard not to like the guy.

“You should bring a date,” Richard returned. “You can sit at my table with me and my wife, Cindy.”

“That really isn't necessary.”

“I insist.” Richard was not a person to take no for an answer. He was used to getting what he wanted and for some reason this photographer had intrigued him. It was clear he didn't want to be here, so why did he stay? Why had he kept this assignment even though it was obvious Richard stood for everything he was against? The question had puzzled Richard the last couple of weeks and he was dying to know the answer. Perhaps his date might shed some light on the man.

“All right. I'll ask her and if she doesn't have any plans, we'll be there.”

“Fair enough. I look forward to meeting the lovely lady.” Richard held out his hand to Quentin. For a moment, Quentin thought about not shaking it, but always the professional, he accepted Richard's proffered hand.

“I'll see you Saturday night,” Richard said. He strutted out of the room with his adviser right behind him.

Once Richard had left, Quentin wasted no time in getting on his cell and calling Avery. His call immediately went to voice mail, which meant she had her cell phone turned off. He tried the gallery next, but the intern told him that Avery had called in sick. So Quentin tried her home phone and when her answering machine clicked on, he knew something was wrong. Avery had gone a full twenty-four hours without telephoning him and now she hadn't gone to work. And for her to take a day off with the way Hunter had been riding her left Quentin concerned. Had something happened to her in Buffalo? He quickly packed up his belongings and exited the building.

Outside, he hailed a taxi and had him drive straight to Avery's apartment. “Put your foot on it,” Quentin ordered. He was anxious to find her. He shouldn't have waited. He should have listened to his instincts and checked on her yesterday. As soon as the taxi stopped, Quentin paid the fare and hopped out.

He raced past the doorman and took the stairs instead of the elevator. Despite his athletic physique, he arrived out of breath at the tenth floor and banged on Avery's door. “Avery! Avery, are you in there!”

 

Avery was in bed when she heard Quentin knocking on the door. At first she thought about not answering, but then he kept banging, so she had no choice but to throw off the covers, slip on her robe and head to the foyer before one of her neighbors called security.

“Quentin, go away, please,” Avery said through the door. “Please just go away. I just want to be alone.”

“Avery, please open up,” he insisted, placing his hand on the door. He could feel her pain even from the opposite side. “I don't know what happened between you and your biological mother. But whatever happened—you can talk to me.”

Avery could feel him, too, and put her hand on her side of the door. She needed him, but she couldn't let him see her this way. See her so devastated. So crushed. “I can't see you right now, Quentin. Please just go away.”

“Avery, let me in or I'm going to break this door down!”

She thought about it and she had no doubt that Quentin would do exactly that if she didn't comply. “Fine!” she yelled, unlocking the deadbolt and swinging the door open. “Are you happy now?” she said, facing him with tearstained cheeks. “I just wanted to be alone. Why couldn't you give me that?”

“Because I was worried about you,” Quentin returned, closing the door. And with good reason. Avery was a mess. Her hair hung flat and limp at her shoulders; her eyes were red and puffy; she was wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a stained NYU T-shirt underneath a funky old robe. “What happened with Leah, Avery?” Instead of answering him, she turned on her heel and fled to her bedroom, flinging herself on the bed.

Determined, Quentin followed behind her and stood in the doorway. “Avery, I asked you a question. And I'm not leaving until I get an answer.”

She bolted upright. “She rejected me, okay?” She cried as tears glistened on her eyelids. “You were right. She didn't want to have anything to do with me. Don't you want to say you told me so?”

“Avery, I'm so sorry,” Quentin rushed over to the bed. He pulled her into his arms and smoothed her hair with his hand. “I didn't want to be right. I hoped that she would welcome you with open arms. Surely, you must know that,” he said as he patted her back and tried to soothe her.

“But that didn't happen, Quentin,” Avery croaked. “I don't know why I expected anything to be different thirty-three years later. I was an inconvenience. She didn't want me then and she doesn't want me now.”

“What can I do?” Quentin asked, cupping her face in his hand. He wanted to ease her pain, but he didn't know how. “What can I do to make this better?”

“There's nothing you can do,” Avery replied, bitterly wrenching herself out of his arms. “It is what it is. And I just have to accept that.” Avery threw herself to the bed and turned away from him.

“Then I'll just stay here with you for the rest of the day and all night if I have to,” Quentin returned, untying his shoelaces. He took off one shoe and then the other before joining her underneath the covers.

“You don't have to do that,” Avery said over her shoulder.

“I know I don't have to.” Quentin snuggled behind her until her bottom was resting firmly against him. “But you're stuck with me, so just accept it.” He wrapped his arms tightly around her. He wanted her to know that despite Leah's shortcomings, Avery could count on him.

 

When Avery awoke the next morning, she found her bed empty. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock. It read 10:00 a.m. Had she really slept that long? And when had Quentin left? He could have at least told her instead of sneaking out. Avery didn't know why she was upset. Perhaps because he'd come to mean more to her than she cared to admit? Last night, he'd been a rock. A tower of strength. He'd let her talk or cry or vent or just remain silent. She'd needed him and he'd been there for her more than any man ever had. That was why it was so upsetting to find him gone in the morning light.

“Maybe he's in the kitchen,” Avery said aloud and padded to her galley kitchen. When she arrived, she found it, too, was empty. She was heartbroken.

“Great, thanks for nothing, Quentin.”

 

Downtown, Quentin stood in front of the Robertses' Park Avenue door and rang the bell. In the dawn, he'd been struck with the best medicine to cure Avery—and she opened the door a few minutes later: her mother, Veronica Roberts.

“Hello, Mrs. Roberts.” Quentin smiled. An older, more sophisticated version of Avery stared back at him. “I don't know if you remember me from Vegas Night…”

A light came into Veronica's eyes. “Oh yes, you're the gentleman that accompanied my daughter to the charity gala. How can I help you?”

“Well, it's not me you can help, Mrs. Roberts. Right now, Avery needs you.”

“Why? Is something wrong?” Veronica asked. “Did something happen to my daughter?” Worry creased her forehead.

“It's more like
who
happened to your daughter,” Quentin returned.

Veronica knew exactly what he meant. “Let me grab my purse.”

They arrived twenty minutes later at Avery's apartment and Veronica used her key to let them in. “Avery!” she called out to her daughter.

From her bedroom, Avery heard a voice that sounded oddly familiar. It sounded like her mother, but she thought she was hearing things until she heard her name again. “Mom!” Avery rose from her bed and peeked her head outside the bedroom door.

Quentin and her mother were standing in the foyer. When she saw her, Avery ran and her mother enveloped her with open arms. “My baby,” she crooned in Avery's ear.

“Mama,” Avery cried, “I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.” Avery hugged her even tighter. “I should never have done it. You warned me. Please forgive me.”

“It's okay, Avery. I'm here now and that's all that matters. And there's no forgiveness needed. I'm your mother and I will always love you.”

When Avery looked up at Quentin with tears in her eyes and mouthed the words
thank you,
Quentin felt like the king of the world. Quietly, he stepped back and exited the apartment to give the two women some much needed bonding time.

“I
'm in love with him, Jenna,” Avery revealed two days later when she joined her for coffee. Now that she'd faced the past and reconciled with her mother, Avery felt like a giant load had been lifted off her shoulders and she could finally breathe again. Sure, she still hadn't adjusted to the news that Richard King was her father, but that was another story entirely.

What overwhelmed her the most was just how deep her feelings for Quentin went. He'd come through for her in a real way the last few days. He'd bridged the gap between her and her mother, and they were on solid ground. Matter of fact, they were on better terms than they'd been before the adoption discovery.

“I knew it,” Jenna replied. “From the moment you saw him, I felt the chemistry between the two of you.”

Avery shook her head. “I admit, there was that. But it's more than sexual attraction now, Jenna. Quentin's a wonderful man. He's kind and compassionate. And caring. The way he's taken care of me the last week has been nothing short of amazing.”

Jenna's eyes widened. “That good, huh?”

“Better.” Avery grinned from ear to ear.

“So, what's next?” Jenna asked excitedly.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, are you two a couple now?”

Avery thought about it for a moment. Jenna asked a good question. Were they a couple? They sure hadn't discussed being in a committed relationship, but that was exactly where they were. At least she was. She wasn't seeing anyone else. And she doubted he had the time to squeeze anyone else in. They'd spent all of their spare time together, but she still wasn't sure. “Honestly, Jenna, I don't know. We've never actually discussed it.”

“Has he ever said he loved you?”

Avery shook her head. “No, but I feel it. Why is it always difficult for men to express how they truly feel?” She sipped on her cappuccino.

“I don't know, girlfriend,” Jenna replied. “If I had the answer to that question, I'd be a rich woman because every woman would pay dearly for the answer. But seriously, you should talk to Quentin and tell him how you feel.”

“I'm scared, Jenna. What if he doesn't feel the same way? What if he's not ready for a commitment?”

“You'll never know unless you ask him.”

“I'll give it some thought.” Avery wasn't sure if she was willing to put her feelings on the line again after what had happened with Leah. Maybe it was better to play it safe. She'd wait for Quentin to say something first.

 

Later that evening, Avery joined Quentin at the tapas bar. He was finally going to introduce her to his friends. She took that as a step in the right direction. Men didn't usually invite you to meet their friends and family unless they were serious, or at least that was what she told herself when she walked inside.

She found Quentin at the bar with the attractive woman from the gallery opening and another good-looking brother she hadn't seen before.

“Avery.” Quentin rose and came over to greet her. “You look beautiful as always.” He loved the strapless mosaic dress with an empire waist she was wearing. It revealed a hint of cleavage, but not too much to make him jealous of other men's leering eyes. “C'mon, I want you to meet my friends.” He walked her over to the bar. “Dante, Sage. I'd like you to meet Avery Roberts.”

“It's a pleasure to finally meet you,” Sage said, coming forward and shaking Avery's hand. She gave Quentin a knowing wink. So, Q finally had the guts to bring her to meet them. He was definitely in love, Sage thought.

“You, too,” Avery said. “I've heard a lot about you both.” Avery smiled at Sage and Dante. “And Malik.” She added as an afterthought.

“Well, uh…perhaps you'll be able to meet him another time,” Dante replied, giving her a quick squeeze.

“I sure hope so,” Avery said. “You guys are the four musketeers, right?” She looked up adoringly at Quentin.

And when she did, he noticed something he hadn't dared let himself see before. Love. Was Avery falling for him? Because the way she'd smiled up at him just now certainly indicated those feelings.

“Well, once upon a time we were,” Quentin commented sadly.

“And we will be again,” Dante said. “Come join us, Avery. I prepared some dishes for everyone to enjoy.”

Dante had arranged a corner table for the group and it was decked out with a wide assortment of tapas. Avery's mouth watered as her eyes and nose got a feast for the senses.

Hours whizzed by as they all drank wine and ate the delectable food prepared by Dante, who'd taken the night off and allowed his sous-chef to handle the kitchen.

Avery laughed at their funny anecdotes as they reminisced about their growing pains living at the orphanage. Avery didn't have any stories to add because she was an only child herself. She couldn't help but marvel at how well they'd all turned out after such a hard childhood. Quentin was a renowned photographer, Sage a lawyer, Dante a chef and restaurateur, and even Malik was a community-center director. They had thrived despite the obstacles life had thrown at them.

It was a lesson Avery was being tested on herself. Faced with the knowledge that her biological mother didn't want to have anything to do with her was sobering to say the least. In her head, she understood why Leah had rejected her—Avery was from a wealthy family as well and her parents certainly didn't need the scandal. Imagine the gossips on Park Avenue, discussing the fact that she was the illegitimate daughter of Richard King? Her mother would die of embarrassment. Thank God, she didn't know. And Avery had no intention of telling her.

“Avery, what do you think?”

“What?” She had been daydreaming. “I'm sorry, I missed what you said.”

“Sage asked if you'd seen
The Color Purple
on Broadway yet,” Quentin said.

“I thought we might all get together one night for a night on the town,” Sage replied, smiling at Quentin.

“I'd like that,” Avery said. She'd never had many close friends outside of Jenna and looked forward to opening her social circle to include Quentin's friends. They were good people and she told him as much later back at his loft while they lounged on his sofa.

“Tonight was really great,” Avery commented. “Thank you for inviting me. I really like your friends.”

“They're my family,” Quentin corrected. “Without them, Avery, I don't know how I would have made it. And they liked you, too. You got their seal of approval.”

“I'm glad that you had them and you weren't alone,” she said, stroking his goatee. “I just wish I could have met Malik.”

“Another time,” Quentin said.

As they lay snuggled in each other's arms, Quentin turned to his side so he could face her. He'd avoided asking her all week because she had so much on her plate, but he was obligated to attend the Manhattan Chamber of Commerce Businessman of the Year Awards because he needed to get the final shot of Richard for his photo exposé for
Capitalist
. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“We didn't have any plans did we?” Avery's brow rose.

“No, but I have to go to this stupid awards gala. I don't really want to go, but I have no choice.”

“Who's it for?” she queried.

Quentin rolled his eyes. “Richard King.”

“Wh-who?” All the air in the room had suddenly vanished and Avery felt weak.

“Richard King. The guy I'm doing the exposé on. The reason I've ruined one of my longest friendships.” Quentin's cold and harsh tone was not lost on Avery. “So, what do you think?”

“Well, when you make it sound so appealing, how can I resist?” she replied, feigning a smile. If she went to the awards dinner with Quentin, she would finally be able to see Richard King in person rather than just a photo on the Internet. After her experience with Leah, she wasn't prepared to go after him with guns blazing and reveal her existence. She'd learned her lesson the first time. Now, she would look before she leaped. “What time should I be ready?”

“Six o'clock.”

“Count me in.”

 

As she stood in front of her hall mirror for one final perusal in her asymmetrical, one-shoulder long dress with a side slit, Avery was curious about Richard King. Would it be like staring back at an image of herself? Would she look anything like him? From the picture online, she couldn't tell. She was adding a touch of lip gloss when the doorbell rang. She'd wanted to give Quentin a key, but felt that might be giving away too much of her feelings, so instead she'd remained silent.

“You look breathtaking,” he said, giving her a whirl. “And might I add sexy as hell.” He liked the slit and the incredible expanse of long leg it revealed. She was rocking that dress! He was going to be hard all night just thinking about taking that dress off her slender body.

“You're pretty dapper yourself.” Avery enjoyed the view of him in a Joseph Abboud tuxedo with satin lapels. The jacket emphasized his broad shoulders and massive chest while the white tuxedo clip shirt accentuated his dark coloring. Quentin had brought his camera with him to take some final pictures of Richard as he accepted his award.

“Are you ready to go? I've hired a driver for tonight.”

“You mean we're not going to ride on your Harley?” Avery asked, smiling as she threw her lip gloss in her beaded clutch purse.

Quentin's eyes traveled from her rhinestone-studded sandals to her hair, which despite the shorter length she'd managed to pin in a loose chignon. “Not in that dress, honey.”

“I'm glad you noticed,” Avery said, grabbing her wrap from the back of her sofa and heading toward the door.

“Oh, I noticed,” he said, turning off the lights and closing the door behind himself.

The driver took them to the Ritz-Carlton in Battery Park where the Businessman of the Year Awards ceremony was being held in the ballroom. When they arrived on the second floor, guests had spilled out into the foyer as they waited for the banquet to get underway. As soon as they entered, Avery scanned the room, looking for Richard King. She hardly noticed the silk wall covering, chandeliers, gold-plated chairs and linen tablecloths.

“There he is.” Quentin pointed across the room to Richard, who was standing with his wife, Cindy, and several other couples. Avery's eyes flew across the room and immediately landed on Richard, and as if he knew someone was staring at him, he looked over and smiled. He motioned for Quentin to join him. “C'mon, I might as well introduce you.”

“Wait a sec,” Avery said, and smoothed her hair and dress down. Proudly, she took Quentin's arm and walked toward Richard King, her biological father.

“Everyone, this is world-renowned photographer Quentin Davis,” Richard introduced him as they approached. “He's doing a photo spread on me for
Capitalist
.”

“Excellent,” another man said, patting him on the back. “It's well deserved—you've had a great year, Richard.”

“I've heard of you,” Richard's wife, Cindy, came forward and shook his hand. “I'll never forget those pictures you took on 9/11.”

“Thank you,” Quentin replied.

“I don't believe we've met.” Richard came toward Avery. “Quentin, why don't you introduce me to the lovely lady?”

“Richard King, meet Avery Roberts.” Quentin turned sideways. “Avery's an art buyer for the Henri Lawrence Gallery in SoHo.”

Avery didn't know how to react when Richard brought her hand to his lips and brushed his mouth across it. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Avery.”

She was at a loss for words when he looked at her and she found a pair of green eyes staring back at her.

“Avery?” Quentin whispered in her ear.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” She snapped out of her haze. “It's a pleasure to meet you, too, Mr. King.”

Richard seemed taken aback as well when he looked at her. “Has anyone ever told you you have the most striking pair of green eyes?” he asked.

“They're kind of like yours,” Avery added, smiling back at him.

“Are you flirting with my girlfriend?” Quentin asked Richard jokingly. He wasn't so sure he liked the way Avery was staring at King. Surely she wasn't entranced by all the trappings of his success? He'd found her to be much more down-to-earth than that.

Avery turned sideways and smiled at Quentin. Had he just called her his
girlfriend?
It was funny how one word could make her feel all warm and fuzzy inside despite the fact that she was standing in front of her biological father and he was absolutely clueless about her existence.

“Of course not,” Richard said, stepping back and grabbing his wife's hand. Even though something about the young woman seemed oddly familiar to Richard, he just couldn't put his finger on what it was. “I only have eyes for one woman.”