There's Something About Her, A Manhattan Love Story (19 page)

Thirty minutes later, he calls again. Instead of answering, I close my eyes. When I open them again, the alarm is ringing. There’s no time to snooze. I take a quick but effective shower and put on a comfortable pair of pants and sweater for traveling. I pack warm clothes, gobble down leftovers from Musketeer, and hit the door.
 

I’m ready to hail a cab to Teterboro, but a window rolls down on the black car parked in front of the entrance of my building.
 

Robert’s head pokes out. “Need a ride?”

How bold of him to just show up here! I wave him off. “Nope. I’ll take a cab.”

“The hell you will.” He jumps out and grabs my suitcase. “Get in the car, Maggie.”

I tug my suitcase back and lift my other hand to hail the next taxi. “No.”

A car stops, but Robert waves it on. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” he asks.

“You’re Lena’s ex-husband, and you shoved your tongue down my throat.” I raise a finger to make the next point. “And you told me you wanted to bang me. I’m on Lena’s side. If she hates you, then I hate you.”
 

Robert has a silly, giddy grin. “Get in the car. We’re going to be late. We have two other people to pick up. This isn’t all about you, me, and our future fuck.”

I shake my head. “You and I are not going to do that.”

“We’ll see.”

“There’s no ‘we’ll see.’”

“Just get in, okay?”

I tilt my head. “You said we’re picking up others?”

“Yes.”

“Are we really?”

There’s that cunning grin. “No, but get in anyway.”

“Really? It’s that easy for you to lie?”

“Maggie, get in the car. I won’t touch you.” He holds up his hands. “I promise.”

I sigh. It’s just a ride to the airport, so I release my suitcase, and he takes it and whistles. The driver comes out of the car, shuffles around the back, and stuffs my suitcase into the trunk. I sit as far away from Robert as the seat will allow. I’m actually clinging to the door.
 

“So,” he says, way too chipper, “what’s your five-year plan?”

 
“Where the hell did that question come from?” I frown.

“You really hate me, don’t you?”

I try to iron out my expression so he might really believe what I say next. “I don’t hate you. Why would you ask me that?”

“I’m one of the owners of A&Rt. It’s a reasonable question from someone in my position and in your position.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Shit, I can’t win for losing.” He studies my face. “You’re not a morning person, are you?”

I roll my eyes, remembering that Vincent made the same observation yesterday. No, I’m not, but I won’t admit it to him. “I don’t have a five-year plan. I live in the moment.”

“Vincent isn’t your moment, though. He’s going to marry Gabrielle. He doesn’t have a choice.”
 

“Is that what this ride is all about? You want to warn me away from Vincent?”
 

“That’s not the only reason.”

I focus out the window to quell my anger. “Warning heeded.”

“Look, there comes a point in a man’s life when he runs out of options.”
 

“Sounds like true love to me.”

“Marriage is rarely ever about love.”

“You didn’t love Lena?” I face him.

He takes a long time to answer. “I did.”
 

I take a deep breath to steady myself. “I’m not going to get in the way of Vincent’s whatever. I only want my job. I won’t do anything to ruin it.”

“Smart girl. And there are plenty more fish in the sea,” he says.
 

Man, I loathe that grin of his. “That’s the cliché.”

“I’ll be free soon. How about I give you first dibs?”

I search his face to make sure that was a joke. “Why don’t you hold your breath until then?”

He studies me dubiously. “You don’t find me attractive?”

“In what way?”

“You know which way I’m referring to.”

“Your personality is something I’m not too fond of.”

He flinches and raises his eyebrows. “Oh?”
 

“Physically, you’re attractive, but you know that.”

“Do you think I’m cocky? Arrogant? A philandering prick?”

“The first two definitely. By the way you grabbed my ass and shoved your tongue in my mouth, I suspect you could be a philandering prick as well.”

He studies me as he grins, and I wonder what he’s thinking.
 

He asks, “What if I was the one you were locked away with in Aspen? Would you be in love with me?”

That’s a good question, one that requires more than a few seconds of deliberation. “I don’t know,” I reply. “If I knew from day one that Vincent was getting married, then I’m not sure if anything would’ve occurred between us. If I knew you and Lena were married or getting a divorce or were divorced, then I can say absolutely nothing would’ve happened between us.”

He grunts. “And if there was no Lena?”

I resist admitting the truth. He could’ve gotten very far with me if he tried, no doubt about it. Vincent feels like home, but Robert… I can’t quite connect with him. “I don’t know. Would there still be a Vincent?”

He holds my gaze. The airport is coming up on our right. My cell phone rings, and I break eye contact to take it out of my purse. It’s Vincent. Robert is watching me. I silence the call and power down the device.
 

“I didn’t do that for you,” I say to that grin of his.

“You did it for you.”
 

I sense a double meaning. Yes, I chose my career over Vincent, and that doesn’t make me happy. Instead, I’m numb.

Robert finagles his way into the seat next to me on the airplane, but I catch up on much needed sleep. When I wake up four hours later, his hand is on my lap. I pick it up and remove it from my leg.
 

Everything speeds up from the moment we deplane. We split into groups of four and load into three Town Cars. Keith tries to slide in beside me, but Robert directs him to the car behind ours. I feel like a gazelle being stalked by starving lions. It’s weird to go from sparse male attention to this much male attention. As we ride to the hotel, Robert pulls out the oldest trick in the book. He completely ignores me.

“You haven’t found a boyfriend yet?” he asks Janice, gazing into her eyes.

Janice eats it up. “Not yet, but I’m looking.”

“Maybe we can grab a drink later.”

She glances at me with a jubilant gleam.

“Mags?” Linda elbows me gently. “I thought maybe you could handle the commercial since you’ve been working on the music and conceptualization. I’ll evaluate the concert area, media stations, and all the booths.”

I smile. “I love how you’re taking charge.”

“I know!”
 

We shimmy our arms against each other in celebration of how far we’ve come.

“Maggie, I have a dinner planned with Melanie Richland from KMOO. I need you there,” Robert says.

I reluctantly turn to look at him. “Why do I have to be there?”
 

“I promised to have the Director of Strategic Marketing at the table tonight.”

“You’re just now telling me this?”

“You’re frowning.”
 

“This”—I circle a finger around my face—“is confusion. Give me something if you want me to look like I know what the hell I’m talking about.”

He gives me my favorite grin, and I think only the fact that Linda and Janice are in the car stops him from making a dirty comment. “She’s an old friend.”

“And?”

Linda bumps me with her leg. It’s a warning that I’m being too cross with the boss.

“You’ll learn more at the table. I’ll meet you at your room at six o’clock.” He promptly returns his attention to Janice, who drinks up his act like chocolate syrup.

Linda widens her eyes at me, and I roll mine. “He’s an ass,” I mouth.
 

“I heard you,” Robert says.

I flick around to look at him. He’s still gazing into Janice’s eyes, asking her if she’s ever had good Jamaican rum.

We have half an hour to check in, unload, and put on more layers of clothes. Five hours later, I’m almost at the end of the commercial shoot. I’m wearing two sweaters, stockings under my corduroy pants, leg warmers under my boots, a puffer coat, and I’m still shivering. Darius soars through the air at a new angle on his snowboard. This is his final jump, but he’d be happy to do fifty more.
 

“They’re all good shots,” Levi, the director, informs me.
 

“Then is it a wrap?” I can’t stop my teeth from chattering.
 

“It’s a wrap!” Levi shouts.
 

The local crew applauds, and we move to a van to edit the video. Four hours later, we have a hot and trendy commercial.
 

I take a car back to the hotel after nine. Sue me. I missed Robert’s stupid dinner, and I’m happy about it. The hallway in the hotel lodge is warm, but I’m still shivering. I slip the key card in the slot, and a hand slams onto the door. The scent of a man’s cologne overtakes me, and his body is heavy against my puffer coat.

“Are you hungry?” Robert asks.

I pull the card out of the slot. “Nope.” I’m starving.
 

“Then you’ve eaten?”

“Nope.”

“We haven’t either.”

“Robert, promptly remove your hand so that I can get into my room.” I sound as wiped as I feel.

“We’ve been waiting for you.”

“For four hours?” I shake my head. “Leave me alone.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

I sigh, exasperated. “The people in hell want to go to heaven.”

He snickers. “Listen, Melanie is a producer at KMOO, and she’s curious about the Marketing Strategist position on the TV side. I want to see if you’ll hit it off.”

“We’ll hit it off. I’m a professional.” My words are dragging. I crave food and sleep equally.

“If she gets the job, then you’ll work close together. It’ll make her”—he pauses—“happy.”

I turn around to look at his face. “It’s an elaborate scheme to try to get laid. Just flash her your naughty little grin. She’ll drop her panties.”

“So you like my grin?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m sleepy. My feet ache because it’s so cold. And yes, I’m starving, but I’m too tired to do anything about it.”

“Maggie, Maggie, Maggie,” he says in a sexy voice. “There’s a seat next to a warm fire in the lounge with your name on it. And it’s comfortable. I’ll order you a lobster. You like lobster?”
 

“Lobster? You’re being cliché again.”

“In garlic butter cream sauce. I’ll ask the kitchen to have it ready for you as soon as you get downstairs.”

“You will?” I hear a marked change in my tone. He’s winning me over.

“And a bottle of Chateau La Mondotte. You like red wine?”

I drop my forehead on the door. “Okay. But take your hand off the door. I need to clean the snow and dirt off of me, then I’ll meet you and Melanie in the lounge.”
 

He removes his hand.
 

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he says, no longer pressed up against me.
 

As soon as I escape him, I shed my clothes and take a hot shower to warm up. It works. I brought a pair of black leather skinny pants and a furry white sweater in case this happened, although I’d hoped it would be a networking opportunity with a company I would want to add to my Rolodex. I pull my hair up into a messy ponytail and put on a pair of black booties over thick black socks. My stomach growls three times from the moment I leave the room and arrive in the lobby.

The lounge is alive. The A&Rt team aren’t the only night owls. If there was ever a night to mingle, this is it, and I’m unable to take advantage. My brain is on the verge of collapsing. I couldn’t speak one coherent paragraph even if I tried.
 

The soothing music makes me fight the urge to yawn. Linda and our team are sitting at a table together. She and I wave at each other. I point to Robert, who’s sitting across from a stunning brunette in a booth in front of a fireplace. They appear as if they’re really enjoying their conversation. I slog over to the booth and stop at the end of the table.

Robert stands when he sees me. “You look sexy,” he whispers and kisses my cheek.
 

I give him a look. What the hell was that about? Melanie rises, which makes me happy. The last thing I want is to be sandwiched between them. I know Robert intended for me to slide inside, which was why he stood up so quickly. However, this Melanie is a smart woman.
 

“Hello, I’m Melanie Richland.”
 

I shake her hand. We’re the same height, but she’s half my girth, which makes her super skinny. Her very blue eyes are stunning against her brown hair.

“As you’ve already heard, I’m Maggie,” I say. “Please sit.”
 

I usher her into the booth so that I can sit on the outside. When I sneer at Robert, he winks. Score one for me.

“Are we ready to eat?” I ask.

As promised, two waiters immediately serve Melanie a salad and Robert a steak plate, and I have the succulent lobster on a bed of fluffy rice.
 

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Robert asks Melanie.
 

I pick up my fork and knife and get right to it. They’re talking about some trip to Paris. Either they went together or ran into each other while they were there. I can’t really concentrate on what they’re saying. I glance over at Linda’s table and see Janice staring daggers at Robert and Melanie. I’m happy she’s not directing her scowl at me.
 

“Have you ever been, Maggie?” Robert asks.

“Sure.” I think they’re still prattling on about Paris.
 

Melanie makes eyes at the young waiter, who’s pouring the wine. “And what did you think?”
 

“Who me?” the waiter asks.
 

She sets her gaze on me. “No, her.”

I narrow one eye at her. What a weird chick. She strikes me as a classic attention-seeker. Flirting with the waiter so he won’t notice me, the other chick at the table, is the oldest trick in the insecure chick handbook.