The Reconstruction of Carla Millhouse (11 page)

Chapter Fifteen

The gym’s decorative Christmas bell hanging on the door tingled as Richard and Carla exited together. Richard turned to Carla with a frown.

“Richard, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s really wrong. It’s just…”

“What? If there’s something I can do for you, just ask.”

He took the plunge. “I have a humongous favor to ask of you.”

“Do you need money—”

“No, nothing like that. I have to go to the annual office Christmas party and I need—“ he hesitated, “to take someone.”

“That’s it? Of course I’ll go with you. We’re friends, aren’t we?” Carla said, gently touching his cheek.

“Sorry to be so melodramatic, but it is a big thing to ask—I mean with your being married and all that.”

“When and where is it?”

Richard let out a breath of relief and told her. “Next Friday. Is it too soon?”

“Of course not,” she lied, wondering what she’d wear. “Where is it being held?”

“At the Hyatt Regency. I’ll be forever in your debt.”

“Really?” Carla asked, tongue-in cheek.

Richard smiled, dispelling his frown.
Thank God I won’t be there all alone
, he thought. “I’d stand here telling you how much, but I have an appointment with a client in an hour.”

She kissed his cheek. “Go on and don’t worry about it. I’m happy to go.”

Carla watched him go and then hurried to her car. She had to go shopping for a dress.

* * *

Heather was walking out of the exclusive health club on N. Saguaro Rd. in Fountain Hills when her cell phone chirped. She fumbled in her tote for a few moments before fishing it out. She glanced at the caller ID. It said private, but was a strange area code.
Who could be calling?
She wondered.

The “who” was quickly answered when she heard the deep, accented voice say, “
Ciao, il
mio amore.”

Heather’s heart instantly caught in mid-beat and resumed beating twice as fast. In that split second, an image of the man who belonged to that sexy voice flashed before her with his classical features and ocean-blue eyes, smooth olive-toned skin and incredibly hard body. Her emotions ran the gamut from surprise to anger and then desire.

With a great deal of control, she tamped her anger back. Despite the fact he was the only man she’d ever loved and used to pray he’d eventually come crawling back to her, she didn’t want him to know he could still upset her. The bastard had ignored her for years.

And there was no way she would allow him to think he can just waltz back into her life, despite the fact she’d dreamed of this moment.

“Heather, are you still there?”

Her heart sighed at the way he spoke her name. Keeping a tight control on her emotions, she replied casually, as she got into her car. “Yes, Salvatore. Tell me, what rock have you crawled out from under?”

“Now, now, my sweet, let’s not be so testy—”

“Testy? And how
should
I feel hearing from you after five years?”

“Has it been that long?”

“I have no time to play games with you, Salvatore.”

“So you’re rushing to meet your
rich
husband for lunch?” His voice almost purred.

“What do you want? Or should I ask how much time do you have to talk before your charming
wife
yanks your leash?”

“Let’s call a—how do you Americans say?—time-out. I did not call to merely trade insults.”

With a softened voice, she asked, “Then why
are
you calling?”

“Because Lucia has left me for good. She’s taken the kids and started divorce proceedings.”

“And?”

“I miss you and want you to come to Rome.”

“Really.” Heather couldn’t help the thrill running through her.

“Really. I’m lonely and I need you,” he replied.

Hearing his voice again took Heather back to the small apartment in Rome where she and Salvatore once lived together. They’d met at a small outdoor café off the main street near the Pantheon. She had been touring Rome with two friends, when they stopped for a drink. Salvatore picked her up at the cafe that day.

She had no idea that he was married with three small kids. To her, he was the most handsome man she’d ever met and since he treated her like a princess, she assumed he was wealthy, as well. Little did she know that at first he’d thought
she
was a rich American and therefore his ticket from the humdrum existence he’d known.

Heather fell in love with Salvatore and remained in Rome with him after her friends had gone home. She thought he loved her just as much as she loved him, but when his wife, Lucia, found him, Lucia had no trouble persuading him to return to her and their children, ending their six-month affair. Heather was heartbroken. Ironically, even though by then she knew he wasn’t the handsome, wealthy prince who would keep her in a lavish lifestyle forever, she’d still loved him.

She had cherished their velvet nights together and despite the numerous ones she spent crying herself to sleep following Salvatore’s departure, she knew she would never forget them.

And now, he was trying to get back into her life expecting her to drop everything and come running. Well, not so fast. This girl was no longer as naïve as she’d once been.

She would go to him, but on her terms. And yet, even though the thought of his slow hands slipping down her body could still churn her juices, she wasn’t ready to throw away everything she worked so hard to obtain. She needed to have more money for safe keeping stashed away before she dashed off to Italy. Therefore, she quickly reined in those evocative memories before she slid down that slippery slope to self destruction.

“So
, il mia americana bella
, when can you start divorce proceedings and get here? Half of Mr. Hemmings’ money will get us a nice place.”

“Are you for real? I haven’t heard from you in five years and you snap your fingers and expect me to just come running?”

“My love for you is not affected by time,” Salvatore said in his silky voice.

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t come, Salvatore.”

“And why is that?”

“There’s no money if I divorce Orson.”

There was a pregnant pause. “And why not—don’t tell me you signed a stupid prenuptial?” his voice was sharply critical.

Defensively, Heather replied, “It wasn’t stupidity at the time, but a necessity. Had I not signed it, there’d have been no wedding.”

This was another moment of silence, then Salvatore said, almost casually, “There are other ways to get his money, some more inventive than others.”

With her calculating kind of mind she knew immediately what he was hinting at. Her blood ran cold. What he was asking was not something she could take lightly. He interrupted her thoughts.

“Patience,
amore
, is a virtue and one that I don’t possess much of. Do come soon.”

“Do try to find some patience, Salvatore,” she replied, coolly, and broke the connection.

Her cockiness was all bravado. Frustration and disappointment whipped through her in a millisecond. Heather banged the steering wheel with her palm, cursing, before collapsing on top of it, sobbing. Why now? Couldn’t he have called before she married Orson? And why hadn’t she truly gotten over Salvatore? Why did he have the power to make her want to run straight back into his arms?

A good ten minutes passed before Heather had cried herself out. Once she had regained her composure, she started the car engine and backed out of the parking spot. Maybe it
was
time to look at options on how to have Orson’s money without Orson. That Haywood incident had started her thinking that maybe Orson was just trying to find a way to get rid of her. How was she going to deal with that? Her mind began to sift through possibilities.

Chapter Sixteen

Carla had found a simple black cocktail dress at Macy’s. Trying it on, she was able to see the difference her weight loss had made so far. It fit her newly found curves like a glove. Hopefully Richard would like it. The last thing she ever wanted to do was embarrass him. She realized that the real reason was to please him, but didn’t want to travel down that road. It should be Martin’s opinion that mattered, so she let the thought drop.

Now dressed in her black dress and strappy, high black heels, and wearing makeup—something she hadn’t done in a long time—she felt damn good about herself. She drove to the Hyatt Regency in downtown Phoenix. It was a convention hotel that towered over most of the other buildings at 317 feet. On the 24
th
floor was a revolving restaurant, The Compass, which was where the Christmas party was taking place. The restaurant rotated slowly offering its patrons breathtaking views of Phoenix. And if that wasn’t enough, there were two glass-enclosed elevators and three exterior elevators, which glided upward from the lobby, through the atrium, and finally, on the building’s exterior, offering more thrilling views of the area.

Richard was in the lobby waiting for her. She saw him a moment before he noticed her. He looked so handsome in his navy-blue, pinstriped suit. She had to fight the urge to rush into his arms and kiss him. His eyes widened and he broke into a wide smile when he noticed her approach.

“You look beautiful!” Richard took her hand.

Color rose quickly in her face. It had been a long time since some guy had gone ga-ga over her. It would have been nicer had Martin paid her some compliments lately, but for now Richard had made her feel wonderful.

“Thank you. You look like you just stepped off from a page in
GQ
. Do you dress like this every day?” She asked because she knew he’d come directly from the office.

He nodded, as he swept his hands down over his suit. “My usual uniform. Can’t appear in court without it. I’m in the middle of a trial”

Carla laughed. He always knew how to make her laugh. She really enjoyed his company. That was one of the reasons why she agreed to be his date. It wasn’t just to go to a party at all. She wasn’t a party girl. It was because she liked being with him.

“Come on, let’s go up and get the intros over with,” Richard said, as he led her to the elevator.

The room was festively decorated and everyone was standing in small cliques talking or dancing to the three-piece band that was playing by the small dance floor. There was a bar and even a Christmas tree in a corner, which seemed incongruous to the cactus and palm trees outside. However, 70-degree winters were a great deal easier to live with than all the snow and cold in Flagstaff, Arizona.

Richard took Carla around and introduced her to the partners and his closest friends. She hoped he didn’t quiz her on the names later on. Then he got a Manhattan for himself and a glass of wine for her. She was surprised to learn that it was a sit-down meal and not a buffet.

“My firm goes all out for this party. That’s why I had to go.”

“It’s very nice, Richard. I’m glad I came.”

“What did you tell your husband?”

Carla smiled. “I’m at Lynne’s—if he asks.”

“You didn’t tell him you were attending a party?” Richard asked, seemingly amazed.

“It never came up in conversation.”

The band began to play
Unchained Melody
, one of her favorite songs. “Would you care to dance, Carla? I promise not to trample your feet.”

“Can I get that in writing?” she teased.

“Not necessary. I graduated from Ms. Carol’s ballroom dancing class when I was thirteen,” Richard replied with a big grin.

“Then, I’d like that, very much,” she said, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

Nestled in the web of his arms, Carla closed her eyes and let the strains of the music fill her. She breathed in the scent of Richard’s aftershave. Along with the nearness of being with him it sent a delightful shiver of yearning through her as her cheek rubbed gently against his. It had to be the wine, she thought. She hadn’t had much to eat that day.

As they swayed to the music, Richard lived up to his boast and proved to be a competent dancer. He held her so close, that she could feel his thigh against hers. Carla was getting her mind wrapped around the tiny blips of pleasure that contact gave her when another couple accidentally jostled Richard and her, pressing her squarely into his arousal. Every nerve ending in Carla’s body began to tingle as she felt Richard grow even harder.

Luckily, the song ended and everyone was asked to be seated. The first course was about to be served. Carla knew it was wrong to have enjoyed the accidental contact, being married, but it had been pleasurable, just the same.

At the table she talked with the other lawyers and their wives or girlfriends. She had been introduced as Richard’s friend and no one made any reference to her wedding band. They were impressed that she was an author.