years.”
“You’re very capable.”
“So, why are we here?” She spread her hands.
Again Carter waited a long moment before speaking. Renee wondered when he’d picked up that habit. He was usually decisive, in control, always knew what to say, how to act.
“I want you to come back to Hampshire Publications.”
“You have got to be kidding,” Renee said, her voice breathy and low. “We’ve already talked about this. I’m perfectly happy where I am. Why would I come back to Hampshire?”
“It’s a profitable company, and it’s a place where you fit in. You know some of the employees and they all respect you.”
Renee looked at him. She knew Blair Massey. But with three years gone, she might not know most of the people anymore. Magazine publishing was a place that lent itself to turnover.
“Is Hampshire in trouble?” He’d said it was profitable, but that didn’t mean the bridal division was afloat.
Carter shook his head. Renee looked for any sign of slowness, any inkling that he was hiding something. She found nothing to make her believe he wasn’t telling her the whole truth.
“You’re great at seeing what works and what doesn’t in the magazine. Your ideas are always good and sales took an upward climb when you put your mark on the magazine. You could have the whole package with us. I can’t imagine you would want to compete with us.”
Hackles went up on the back of her neck. “I’m just a little business,” Renee began. “In fact, at this point, I’m still scouting out the business. You’re a conglomerate with magazines, textbooks, novels, comics and a score of peripherals. You can’t be afraid of me.”
“It’s not fear. Hampshire wants you to be comfortable, and we don’t want your reputation to suffer with a start-up.”
“Well, that takes the cake. You believe that nothing outside of your control is worthy of doing?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Didn’t you?” She stopped and narrowed her eyes. “You said Hampshire wasn’t in trouble. What about the bridal division? Has there been a dip in sales?”
Again Carter sat forward and looked at her. “I’ll be frank with you. The division could do better. When you were directing it, it was at the top of the market. We’ve lost some market share—not enough to be concerned about. But we don’t want to lose any more. Bringing you onboard would ensure that.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but—”
“Don’t answer yet.” He stopped her with one hand up. “Think about it overnight. Give yourself time to get used to the idea. We can meet tomorrow.”
“I won’t be here tomorrow,” she lied.
“Renee, can’t you give me a few minutes, lunch or dinner? Princeton can’t have that great a need for you that you can’t spare an old friend a few hours.”
Renee felt guilty, although she had no reason to. She wasn’t actually leaving until Sunday, and other than additional planning, she had a morning appointment tomorrow. After that, there was no one she could call, no arrangements she could make until Monday. But she didn’t want Carter to think his presence influenced her in any way.
“All right, Carter,” she said. “I’ll meet you tomorrow. After lunch,” she emphasized. He wasn’t going to convince her to return to Hampshire Publications over a New York steak or a salad at lunch.
He smiled. She saw a little of the old Carter in that smile. A momentary flash of the man who wrestled the sheets with her burst into her mind. The same man who’d told her he was leaving and not interested in pursuing a relationship.
That was Carter Hampshire.
* * *
Carter paced the floor of his spacious apartment on Fifth Avenue overlooking Central Park. The view was spectacular, but Carter wasn’t interested in it today. He punched the button on his cell phone disconnecting the call. Walking to the windows, he looked out on the traffic below. Was she down there? Renee Hart wasn’t registered at the Westley Hotel. She hadn’t been registered there and checked out. She’d never been there. Yet he’d taken her inside, seen her get on the elevator to go to her room. They’d had dinner in the restaurant last night, but she didn’t have a room in that hotel. Why had she let him think she did?
Where was she?
They were supposed to meet today. Carter glanced at his watch. He wouldn’t be able to meet her—he’d gotten word that his father was in the hospital and he needed to go to the Hamptons. His train left in an hour, but he hadn’t been able to reach Renee. She hadn’t answered her cell, and when he’d tried the hotel’s number he’d been told there was no one named Renee Hart registered.
She had a wedding, he remembered. Maybe the wedding party hotel was where Renee was staying. Quickly, he went to his desk and dialed the number of the Waldorf Astoria. Renee was not registered there, either. He calmly thanked the person on the phone and disconnected.
“She lied to me,” Carter said out loud. Getting up, he returned to the window. He needed to explain to her why he’d left three years ago. He’d wanted to do it last night, but the moment he’d seen her he’d known she wasn’t ready to listen. So he’d tried to convince her to come back to Hampshire Publications. He wanted her there, and her job was open. When she’d been in charge, the magazine had led the industry. He knew she’d regain the share they’d lost, but she wasn’t interested. Carter wanted to try and change her mind, see her again, but she’d evaded him. And now he had to go out to the Island.
He thought about how she’d looked. She was still the tall, thin woman he remembered, but there was more confidence in her appearance. And she was even more beautiful than she’d been three years ago. Her hair was black and glossy. When a curl had escaped, he’d almost reached across the table and threaded his fingers through it. Yet she’d told him he was a stranger. She couldn’t know that she’d never be a stranger to him.
He was used to seeing models. Renee wasn’t a model, yet her body mirrored that of the best he’d ever seen. Her waist was thin and nipped in at just the right angle. Her hips curved to exactly match the contours of his hands. Carter’s fingers trembled at the thought of touching her again.
A horn sounded below. He checked the time. He had to go now or he’d never make the train. Leaving Renee another text message, he left the apartment and headed for Penn Station wondering why she wouldn’t take his calls and why she’d lied to him.
* * *
Renee sighed, one hand going to her breast as she studied the text message from Carter. He’d canceled their meeting. She wouldn’t have to see him. Her shoulders dropped and she frowned. He hadn’t said why.
Her morning meeting was over. It had been long and productive. To keep from being interrupted, she’d put her phone on silent. It had buzzed several times, but she’d ignored it. People who knew her knew she wasn’t the type who instantly answered every call. With her brides, it was better to give them a little time before they reached her. By then, their crisis had been reduced to a minor
