are shared.”
“I’ve known her for a few years. This is the most on edge I’ve seen her.”
“The competition.” Scarlet shrugged. “Everyone’s feeling the pressure.”
“You think she should be the one to win? The one to become CEO of EPH, over your uncles?”
“I don’t work for them.” She smiled sweetly. “Here’s the list.” She skated it across the table.
He caught it, stood and walked around the table, not taking his eyes off her. She watched him, as well. He sat beside her, close enough that her perfume drifted across the space between them. Her signature scent aroused him instantly.
“Are we still on for Saturday night?” he asked.
The door opened. Jessie shouldered her way in, carrying a tray with bottled water and glasses of ice. “Cade said I should sit in on your meeting.”
“Great,” Scarlet said with a little too much enthusiasm.
Saved by the intern. John could see the thought flash through Scarlet’s mind.
And because he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, he decided to be creative himself.
John had been right about one thing, Scarlet thought a half hour later as they left the conference room and headed to her cubicle. She did want credit for her idea to keep his business at Charisma. Not for the glory—she was a team player—but she wished her grandfather knew what she’d come up with. She wanted him to see that she was valuable to the magazine, not just an Elliott being given a position because of the family name.
As long as she was being honest with herself, she admitted she wanted John to know, too, because she needed him to acknowledge her abilities. It was unlike her to crave approval. What did that say about her? A sign of a new maturity … or insecurity? She wished Summer was home so they could talk about it, at least the part about Granddad. But their phone conversations, frequent but short, never allowed time for deep discussion, plus Summer was living a dream. Scarlet didn’t want to wake her with reality yet.
Scarlet knew John was right behind her as they reached her cubicle, but his footsteps were almost silent. Sneaky. He was sneaky in a lot of ways. Good ways, interesting ways, like his card with the flowers that had only his phone number printed on it. Like luring her to the conference room at the Spring Fling. Like disguising his incredible body with boring suits. Outwardly he needed some flair to match what he was inside, which was fascinating.
The orchids he’d sent were still fresh, the vase overflowing with the wondrous blooms. She saw his gaze land on them.
She thumbed through a stack of papers on her desk, pulling out the one she wanted to give him.
“Thanks,” he said. He stuffed the sheet into his briefcase. “I’ll be in touch as I meet with each client.”
He left. Just like that. Without finalizing plans for Saturday night, even though he’d asked her before.
An assortment of possibilities about how she could do him bodily harm ran through her head. Had he forgotten or was he playing a game with her? Maybe he was unhappy that they would be working together on the same project for an indefinite period of time.
Any other man might—
She stopped. Sat down. Set her elbows on her desk and rested her chin in her hands. John wasn’t like any other man. And that was the problem.
She was used to leading a relationship, had thought she was letting him lead. But the fact of the matter was, he wasn’t … leadable.
At five o’clock she headed to the elevator bank, grateful she wasn’t an executive, whose work hours often stretched long into the night, even more so since Granddad had fired the starting gun on the competition. She was worried about Aunt Finny, who was way too tense, and determined to win, and was spending far too much time in the office these days.
“Scarlet!” Jessie ran up to her at the elevator, holding tight to a red helium-filled balloon. “This just came. There wasn’t a card, but the delivery guy said it was for you.”
Scarlet spied a piece of paper inside the balloon. She had no doubt who’d sent it.
But what did the note say?
“Thanks,” she said to Jessie, leaving her curiosity unsatisfied as Scarlet stepped into the waiting elevator. “See you tomorrow.”
She strode down Park Avenue, the string wrapped securely around her hand, the balloon hovering just above her head. She smiled as she walked. People smiled back. It was a drizzly spring day, but it was beautiful.
The man learned fast, she thought. He could’ve talked to her while they were in her cubicle, or called her after he’d returned to his office. Instead he sent her a balloon. How imaginative. Maybe it held a little apology for last Saturday night, as well as a reminder of the upcoming Saturday night.
She hailed a cab, lucky to find one unoccupied. Then at the town house she swung open the gate and headed for the door to the underground pool and garage to get to her private entrance. The sound of someone knocking on a window caught her attention. She spied her grandmother waving at her, motioning her to come through the front door.
Gram rarely came into the city anymore unless she was going on a shopping binge, in which case she made arrangements to shop with Scarlet in tow. They always made a day of it.
Curious why Gram hadn’t alerted Scarlet that she was coming, Scarlet climbed the front stairs and walked into the entry, where a grand piano held center stage. When someone played, the sound reverberated through the entire three-story house.
“What are you doing here?” she asked her grandmother as they hugged.
“We have tickets for the opera. We came early so that Patrick could go into the office.” She smiled at the balloon. “It’s a special occasion, then, is it?”
“What? Oh, someone was passing them out. They’re advertising something.”
Maeve’s brows lifted. “And you carried it all the way home?”
Scarlet shrugged, trying to look innocent. “It suited my mood.”
“Why don’t you pop it and see what’s inside?”
“I, um, don’t really care what’s inside. I’d like to enjoy the balloon for a while.”
Gram’s eyes held a secret smile. “If you don’t want to share the note, just say so, colleen. I respect your privacy.”
Then for no fathomable reason the balloon popped on its own and the note went flying, landing faceup at Maeve’s feet. Scarlet grabbed it before her grandmother could bend down, then held it up to read.
I look forward to Saturday night. Pick you up at eight.
Scarlet somehow managed not to sigh her relief at the G-rated note, unsure whether her grandmother had had time to read it or not.
“So, you have a date tonight, then,” Gram said, her eyes twinkling.
Scarlet
