experienced.
Jared’s plan:
Stage One: flirt. Reveal what he sensed was Ali’s true nature. Evoke her passion, a passion Michael wasn’t man enough to satisfy. A passion she’d tamped down with rigid control. Until tonight.
Stage Two: tease, taunt and prod. Point out Michael’s shortcomings. Joke about them. Give Ali a chance to vent her frustration with Michael’s routine tendencies, to realize what a mistake it would be to marry him. Instead she had praised and defended Michael, never saying an unkind word. Deep down, Jared longed for the day a woman spoke with such conviction in support of him.
When Ali had proved too strong to manipulate, Jared had implemented Stage Three, turning his energy to Michael. A few carefully chosen words, a “chance” encounter at a bar with a woman Michael thought highly of, and the deed was done with remarkable ease. It turned out Michael had harbored a growing concern about Ali’s malleable nature when she’d tried to change up their bedroom routine.
Now Michael, one of the few friends who’d stood by him during the DEA investigation, was genuinely happy with his equally boring new girlfriend. While Ali, a woman he barely knew, a woman who had tried to con his friend, was anything but happy. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.
So he had amended the plan, adding a Stage Four: make Ali forget about Michael by turning her focus onto him. Who’d have known he’d enjoy her so much? Their banter over the past month the most fun he’d had in years.
Since the day he’d said, “I do.”
Jared stretched out his legs. His feet were cold. He reached down to touch Ali’s bare thighs. He couldn’t believe she wasn’t shivering. He shifted her weight. “Come on, honey. It’s time to go.”
She didn’t budge.
“Ali.” He kissed the top of her head, her soft hair tickling his chin. Nothing.
He took her by the shoulders and pushed her off his chest. Her head hung down between them. Great. Now what the heck was he supposed to do?
CHAPTER THREE
Five weeks later
THE storm dubbed The New Year’s Eve Nor’easter raging outside had no effect on the festivities or attendance at the Madrin Memorial Hospital New Year’s Eve Gala.
“No champagne?” Victoria yelled to be heard over the dance music blaring from the DJ’s speakers immediately to the left of their table.
Ali shook her head. Not that she was ever a big drinker, but she hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since her park-bench encounter with Dr. Padget. Didn’t trust herself. Waking up in her bed with no clear memory of how she’d gotten there, or what she’d done after straddling his lap down by the river, was an effective motivator for maintaining sobriety.
“You’re missing out on some primo bubbly,” Roxie called out, chugging down the contents of Ali’s flute after the waiter topped it off.
“Who’s driving you home?” Ali asked Roxie, who scanned the crowd.
“I haven’t decided,” Roxie answered with a mischievous smile and a wink.
Polly slapped Roxie’s arm. “You are so bad.” She leaned in close to Ali. “We came together. I’ll be driving Roxie home.”
Ali scanned the dance floor packed with her smiling coworkers and wanted to shoot off a champagne cork or two into the crowd. No. Just because she was in an awful mood it didn’t mean she begrudged her friends a good time. But having no one to kiss when the ball dropped, and watching everyone who did, was not on her agenda for the night. Excuses that would get her home before midnight started to take form.
Stomachache? A possibility. Menstrual cramps? She wished. Itchy rash? Headache?
Back when they’d been dating, she and Michael had talked about getting engaged prior to the New Year. Michael made good on the plan, proposing to Wanda on Christmas Eve in front of the Christmas tree on the pediatrics floor. It’d been the talk of the hospital. Ali could have done with a bout of sudden-onset hearing loss.
No such luck.
So she smiled and told everyone she wished the sickeningly happy couple well. In private she researched how to make voodoo dolls. Three of them. And stockpiled enough pins to start her own clothing line.
The DJ took a break, blessing them with some quiet background music, and Lyle Crenshaw, the catering manager on staff at the hospital, took the opportunity to approach their table.
Three years ago, after a major expansion and renovation to upgrade facilities, hospital management had left space in the rear of the building for class and conference rooms and a large party room for hosting fundraisers, staff appreciation luncheons and the occasional hospital celebration. While the outside of the building screamed hospital, the inside could have been the lobby of any four-star hotel. The transformation from abandoned medical services departments to premier catering hall was so significant; people in the community had expressed an interest in holding their weddings, communion parties and the occasional Bat Mitzvah at the hospital, creating an unanticipated stream of income and making Lyle Crenshaw a bit of a hero in town.
“Hello, there, ladies,” Lyle said with his trademark southern drawl. “I’d like to invite ya’ll on a tour of my office later this evening. I’ve brought some Southwestern charm to the Northeast, and I’m eager to show it off.”
“Do you want us all at once?” Roxie asked with a twinkle in her eye, her voice taking on a seductive tone. “Or one at a time?”
“Well, I’ll take you any way you want, sugar.” Lyle smiled, well aware of Roxie’s antics after her behavior at last week’s new IV pump in-service held in the large conference room.
Roxie batted her eyelashes and smiled back.
“Is that who I think it is?” Polly asked, pointing at the main entrance to the ballroom.
Ali turned to see Jared Padget decked out in a tux, looking too handsome to be a real flesh-and-blood man, and her heart skipped a beat. A few beats actually, allowing the blood to drain from her head. At the same time her lungs ceased to function, and she held on to the table to keep from falling to the floor.
Shame and embarrassment did not begin to cover her feelings at that moment. She’d accosted him in a bar, forced herself on him, and proceeded to pass out immediately following the finale. And the signs he’d been in her bed had not boded well for her going right to sleep upon returning home. Despite the lack of blood flow to the upper reaches of her body, her face felt on fire.
While she regretted her choices that night five weeks ago, her gramps had taught her there’s nothing you could do about your past so focus on your future. Ali had put their interlude behind her, didn’t allow herself to think about it, or him. And had no desire to revisit either.
Voilà! The perfect reason to blow this party, before the horns and noisemakers. “I’m out of here,” Ali said to Victoria as she stood, stooping a bit, trying to blend in with the people milling around the dance floor.
Victoria knew what had happened between Ali and Dr. Padget. At least
