Playing for Keeps (18 page)

Avery finally nodded. “Yes, I would like you not to send those pictures to
Capitalist
.”

“How could you ask me to do that?” Quentin stared back at her. He couldn't believe this was the same woman he'd just made exquisite love to. Who knew him so intimately, but yet in the same breath, could ask him to betray his best friend. “You know what I've gone through with Malik.”

“Because he's my father!” Avery said vehemently, defending her actions. She knew she was being unfair, but she felt justified.

“Clayton Roberts is your father,” Quentin returned. He threw back the covers and started picking up the clothes he'd discarded earlier. “As you stated yourself, Richard King has no idea who you are.”

“What are you doing?” Avery asked when Quentin began dressing.

“I need to get out of here,” he said.

“Quentin, please don't leave like this,” she said, reaching over to the bottom of the bed and pulling on her robe. She put one arm in and then the other and turned to face him. “Can't we talk about this?”

“What is there to talk about, Avery?” Quentin asked.

“I know I am asking a lot.”

“Avery, you're asking more than a lot. You're asking me to choose. To choose between you and my family.”

“Aren't I worth it? Or have I been nothing more than a bed warmer the last few months, Quentin?”

The furious look he bestowed on her could have melted ice. “That's a low blow, Avery.”

“Is it?” she asked. “Not once have you ever mentioned where we're headed. Not once have you ever said you cared for me.”

“Are you kidding me?” Quentin asked, befuddled. “I've shown you, Avery. In every way I know how. I've shown you.” What more did she want? He'd been there for her after her birth mother had rejected her. He'd kicked his friends to the curb and spent all his spare time with her.

“But you've never said the words, Quentin. I want to hear you say the words.”

“So, is this a test, Avery?” he asked, pulling his shirt over his head. “Are you testing me to see how deep my feelings for you run?”

“What if I am?” she said defiantly, folding her arms across her chest.

“Then I guess I just failed,” Quentin said, storming out of the room.

Once he had gone, Avery collapsed onto the bed. What had she done?

A
very was a wreck. She hadn't heard from Quentin since he'd stormed out of her place last night. She'd left several voice mails and text messages all morning, and still nothing. She had made a terrible mistake backing Quentin into a corner and asking him to choose between her and his family, but what choice had she had? She was trying to protect Richard.

Thanks to him, she'd had several more clients and referrals of late at the gallery. Even Hunter had to comment on how well she was doing.

“I hate to admit it,” Hunter said during a discussion on an upcoming exhibit. “But despite your head being elsewhere, sales at the gallery sure haven't suffered.”

“If that's your backhanded way of complimenting me,” Avery said, “then thank you. And since the gallery is doing so well, I'd like to ask for an increase in my commission.”

“Well…I don't know about all that.”

Avery was not backing down. She'd waited a long time for this moment and she was in a position to push the envelope. “I've brought in most of the clientele to this place, but if you'd like me to take that business someplace else…” Avery shrugged.

Hunter thought about it. He couldn't afford to lose someone with Avery's talent and connections. Mr. Lawrence had expressed just the other day how happy he was with the gallery's sales.

“I'll present this to Mr. Lawrence,” Hunter replied, “but I can't guarantee you anything.”

Avery smiled. She had it in the bag. “Of course you can't but I'm sure you'll do your best to persuade him. Now if you'll excuse me. I have a lunch appointment.” Avery rose and headed for the door. And for once, Hunter didn't ask where she was going or with whom. She had finally proved to him and Mr. Lawrence how valuable a player she really was and it felt marvelous!

 

“Is everything okay, Q?” Dante asked, walking toward him. Quentin had come into the bar over an hour ago, asked for a bucket of beer and sat in one of the booths looking forlorn as he chugged each and every one.

“Far from it,” Quentin answered, placing an empty bottle on the table.

“Don't tell me,” Dante said. “I'd know that look anywhere. You're having woman troubles.”

“You're right on the money, Dante.”

“What happened, if you don't mind my asking?”

“It's complicated,” Quentin replied, “but suffice it to say, Avery asked me to make a choice. And either way, I lose.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“It is.”

“Look on the bright side, you made up with Malik and now everything can go back to normal.”

“Can it?”

“Of course it can. He's stopping by for dinner with Sage.” Dante glanced down at his watch. “In an hour or so.”

Great, Quentin thought. That was exactly what he needed. To be faced with the flipside of the coin. If he didn't send those pictures in, his friendship with Malik would end for certain, and he doubted Dante and Sage would be too happy with him either. But on the other hand, despite how angry he was with her for asking him to choose, he didn't want to lose Avery. She had become as important to him as his family. But if he went forward with those pictures, their relationship was over.

Malik and Sage appeared an hour later and it was as if the last few months hadn't happened. The four of them laughed and talked and teased each other just as they'd always done, except this time, it meant more to Quentin than he'd ever realized, because what if this was the last time they were together as a family?

“We missed you, you little pigheaded mullet,” Sage said, tugging one of Malik's dreads.

“I missed you, too, kiddo.” Malik kissed Sage on the forehead. “And I'm sorry that I didn't return your calls. I know you were trying to help.” He'd missed her, but he had no one to blame but himself.

“Yeah, well, if I wasn't so busy trying to make partner and working crazy hours, I would have really given you a piece of my mind.”

Malik had no doubt she would have. Sage was a real spitfire. “Then I'm glad I escaped your wrath.”

“Just barely,” she said, smiling. She glanced back and forth between the three men. She was so happy they were all back together again. She'd hated the distance between them. Sure, she had other friends and had made quite a few in college. Yet somehow none had come even close; her compass had always led her back to them. “Group hug, group hug.”

“Aww, Sage.” The men bemoaned her attempt at lovey-dovey.

“C'mon, give me some love,” she said, opening her arms. Reluctantly, Dante, Malik and Quentin joined her in a group hug. “Now doesn't that feel better?” she asked when they separated.

“Great!” Dante said. He didn't really care for public displays of affection. He preferred to keep his feelings inside. “Who wants a drink?”

“Me!” Quentin said.

“I think you've had enough,” Dante commented, popping open a beer and sliding one Malik's way. Quentin had finished the entire bucket of beer.

While Dante and Malik chatted, Sage walked up to Quentin. “Okay, what gives?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest and regarding him suspiciously. “You've been moping since we got here. What's going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Bull. Try again.”

Quentin laughed. Trust Sage not to take no for an answer. “Avery and I had a disagreement.” Of course, it was more than a disagreement. A fight, he could deal with. This was worse.

“Is that all?” Sage chuckled. “Those happen in relationships. Oh, wait, you usually don't stick around for that.” Quentin was known for dropping and running when things got too serious. He'd take a photo assignment someplace far away and hide for months on end.

“Thanks, Sage. I really appreciate your help,” Quentin said, walking away.

“Hey.” She touched his arm. “You know I was just kidding. I'm glad to see that you're in a relationship. It was high time you stopped kissing and running.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I don't know how to deal with all of this relationship stuff, Sage. I thought I could. I thought that if you loved someone, the rest would be easy.”

Sage's eyes grew wide. “What did you just say?”

Quentin's brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Did you just say you loved Avery?”

“Of course not,” Quentin backpedaled and shook his head. “I don't believe in that love thing.”

“I know what I heard,” Sage said, pointing her finger at him. “Don't be afraid to admit that you love her, Quentin. Because if you don't, you could lose her.” She knew how hard it was for Quentin to let anyone in. She'd felt the same way herself.

“If this is what love feels like,” he replied, “then I don't want it.” He didn't like the feeling that he was not in control of his emotions. It scared the living daylights out of him.

“The heart feels what it feels,” Sage said, grabbing Quentin by the arm and pulling him back toward the bar. “You can't control it.”

Those words stuck with him for the duration of the evening. And somewhere between dessert and the cab ride home, he realized he didn't want to live his life without Avery in it. “You can drop me off at Seventy-ninth and Central Park West,” he informed the cabbie.

“Sure thing.”

When he rang Avery's doorbell it was nearly ten o'clock. He hoped he wasn't waking her. He was unprepared when she opened the door and threw her arms around his neck. “I'm so happy to see you,” she said, furiously kissing him on the cheek.

He pulled back. “I'm happy to see you, too.”

“Quentin…” Avery began, but he silenced her by putting his forefinger on her lips.

“I'll do it,” he said. “I won't send in the pictures.”

 

As she sat down at her desk the next day, Avery replayed the previous night's events over and over in her head. Had Quentin really come over to her apartment and told her he wouldn't send in those photos? He would tell Malik this evening after work—why postpone the inevitable? Had he really chosen her over his friendship with Malik? It should make her happy. She should be elated. So why did she feel like a frog was lodged in her throat?

“Hunter, what can I do for you?” Avery asked when she found him standing in her doorway.

“Good news!” he replied. “Mr. Lawrence has approved your requested commission increase.”

“That's great!” Avery said, feigning a smile.

“Don't sound so excited,” Hunter said. “I had to campaign really hard for you.”

Avery doubted Hunter had had to do much campaigning, as her work spoke for itself, but if that was what he needed to feel better, she'd go along with it. “And I appreciate it,” she said. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“All right, well, I'll leave you to it,” he said, closing the door behind himself.

“Thank you,” she said. After he'd left, she decided she needed a pick-me-up, and what better way than lunch with Jenna? She quickly dialed Jenna's office and found that she was free.

A few hours later, they were seated at a small café having salads. Avery had a chopped-steak salad and Jenna, an Asian chicken salad.

“It's good to see you,” Jenna said, kissing Avery's cheek. “And the hairdo is still holding up.” She touched Avery's sophisticated razor-cut style.

“Thanks,” Avery said. She'd been back to Dominic Sabatini for a trim to maintain the look.

“What's wrong?” Jenna asked, putting a forkful of salad to her lips. “Last we spoke, you were in love and on cloud nine.”

“I know, I know. And now I've gone and ruined it.”

“What did you do?”

“I put Quentin in an untenable situation and asked him to choose between helping me and helping his friends, who are like family to him.”

“I don't think that was a wise move, Avery.”

“No kidding!”

“Is there any other way to avoid him having to choose?”

Avery had been thinking about that all morning. If she told Richard the truth, perhaps he would reconsider? If Richard understood how important this was to her, maybe they could find some sort of compromise? “Possibly.” Or perhaps Richard would take one look and her at think it was a joke, and be more determined than ever to build his development. It was a gamble.

“You have to try. If you love him as much as you say, then you can't ask him to do this—not even for you.”

As soon as the words were out of Jenna's mouth, Avery knew she was right. She'd thought of nothing else all morning. She supposed that was why she'd called Jenna—for confirmation of what she needed to do. It was just that last night Avery had been so overwhelmed by the depth of Quentin's feelings toward her, she hadn't thought about what this was costing him.

“I know you're right.” Avery had to come clean and tell Richard of her existence. “I'm just not looking forward to what I have to do.” After Leah's cold rejection of her, Avery was going to have to steel herself for what Richard might have in store. She was about to drop a bomb on him and she had to do it tonight.

“Well, whatever you need, I'm here for you.”

“Thanks, Jenna. I might be taking you up on it later tonight.”

On her way to the office, Avery dialed Richard King's phone number. His assistant told her that he was unavailable until after 5:00 p.m. “That's fine,” she said, hanging up the phone. Now she just had to reach Quentin before he told Malik. The problem was when she called his cell, it went directly to voice mail, so she tried his home phone and still no answer. Where was he? He couldn't have just slipped off the face of the planet. She prayed she reached Quentin before he went to Dante's this evening.

 

“So, you've decided to heed my advice?” Jason asked Quentin when he delivered the photos of Richard King for
Capitalist
as promised later that afternoon.

“Yes, I have,” Quentin replied, “but not for the reasons you think.”

“So, the plot thickens.” Jason regarded Quentin quizzically. He was surprised by Quentin's change of heart; his client was as stubborn as a mule. Jason was sure he was going to shoot himself in the foot. “So what changed your mind?”

“I'd rather not say. Just be satisfied to know that those photos are exactly what the magazine is looking for to promote King as a successful entrepreneur and businessman.”

“All right,” Jason said. “Keep your secret. I'm just happy to see that you aren't sabotaging the career you've worked so hard to achieve. So I guess our business is concluded for now. I'll touch base with you next week on that Samson Books deal.”

“Thanks,” Quentin said, rising from his chair and heading toward the door.

“Wait a sec,” Jason said. “What about the photos of the center?”