The All-Star Antes Up
Page 52
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“By the way, I have two tickets to Hamilton for Friday night, if you could use them.”
“I know exactly who would want those. Send them over.” She paused. “I just wish I knew why Orin dislikes me so much.”
“Because you are so much better at the job than he is. It’s not just the clients who prefer to deal with you, it’s us concierges, too. You watch yourself, sweetie. And I’ll do the same.”
Miranda disconnected and sagged back in her chair, staring sightlessly at her computer screen.
She thought of Luke explaining the hieroglyphics to her in his warm Texas drawl, of his gaze intently focused on the Morgan’s manuscripts, of his patient willingness to sign autographs for every fan who asked, and of how his skin and muscle felt against and inside her body.
Then she pictured Dennis trudging to the barn before the sun came up to milk the cows so he could make the next batch of cheese with the equipment she was paying for. She thought of Patty growing flowers to sell at her roadside stand to make a little extra money. She thought of Theo’s agile brain and the price of college tuition.
A long sigh dragged itself from her throat. Orin’s poison was bad enough with that one photo to support it. If the paparazzi caught Luke and her together again, her boss would have proof positive, and he would use it mercilessly.
He could ruin her chances at the head concierge job in the new luxury condo going up. The building wouldn’t be finished for another couple of months, which gave Orin far too much time to make trouble for her.
Disappointment filled her with a dull, gray fog.
It was better this way. She was already captivated by Luke. Spending more time with him would just make it worse when he went back to football.
With dragging steps, Miranda got up and shut the door to her office before she dialed Luke’s cell phone. When it went to his voice mail, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.
The beep sounded. “Luke, I’m very sorry, but I’m going to have to cancel our dinner plans. I have a conflict with work. Thank you for a wonderful day yesterday.” She wanted to add something about the pleasure of getting to know him, but decided it could be misconstrued as sexual. Of course, it was, but she left her message at that.
The hours that had been bright with the anticipation of seeing him again now stretched before her in dreary, colorless succession. In addition, the shadow of Orin’s ugly allegations had destroyed any joy she might take in her job today.
To cheer herself up, she dialed her favorite resident to offer him the Hamilton tickets. At least someone would be happy with her.
Twenty minutes later, a deliveryman walked into her office carrying a vase of sunflowers so large that Miranda could barely see his face behind it. “Miranda Tate?”
“That’s me.”
The man plunked the flowers down on her desk. “Jeez, lady, that arrangement is bigger than your office.”
Miranda pulled a five-dollar bill out of her drawer and handed it to him, turning his grumpiness into gratitude.
Luke had sent her Van Gogh flowers! A sigh of combined delight and regret welled up in her throat. He must have sent them before she left her message.
She pulled off the business-size envelope stapled to the plastic wrapping and ran her finger over the letters of her name in his handwriting. She loved the fact that he hadn’t called the florist and dictated the card. He must have had it messengered in.
She opened the envelope carefully and pulled out a single sheet of stationery with the Empire logo at the top. In a bold scrawl, Luke had written:
Dear Miranda,
Yesterday was surprising in more ways than one, all of them good. I figure if you like Van Gogh, you’ll like the flowers. I’ll find out what other things you like at dinner and afterward.
Luke
Miranda couldn’t help smiling, although her pleasure was laced with wistfulness. The last sentence sent a little shimmer of heat through her body. She wondered what “afterward” he had planned.
Now she would never know.
Chapter 14
Luke sat in the darkened room, trying to keep his focus on the video of last week’s matchup of the Jaguars and the Buccaneers. But he kept drifting back into memories of the day before with Miranda, and they weren’t all about the sex. He remembered moments like when she was impressed with his knowledge of Egyptian hieroglyphics. Or the way she looked at him as though he’d said something smart when he commented on the Van Gogh. And then there was the sex.
“Archer, what do you think?” The coach’s voice shattered Luke’s mental image of Miranda draped over the massage table, naked and gasping.
“It’s my week off. I don’t have to think,” Luke said.
His teammates chuckled, while Junius looked annoyed. But Luke wasn’t worried by the coach. He was more concerned about his own inability to concentrate. You didn’t win Super Bowls by daydreaming.
“Fine, how about you, Burns? You got any comments on how to keep Terrance Fairley from knocking the shit out of you and taking the ball away?”
Luke studied the clip as the Bucs’ giant linebacker put on a surprising burst of speed to slam into his opponent’s star wide receiver, causing a fumble and turnover. Junius cued up another play where the linebacker danced around a guard and a tackle to sack the quarterback. Luke let his lips curve into an evil smile as he flicked a glance at Brandon Pitch. The backup quarterback looked queasy. Luke shifted to test the condition of his bruises and felt the twinge.
Junius showed another play where Fairley flattened a tight end to create a turnover. Luke sat forward. “Can you show that one again, Coach? I might have an idea.”
“I know exactly who would want those. Send them over.” She paused. “I just wish I knew why Orin dislikes me so much.”
“Because you are so much better at the job than he is. It’s not just the clients who prefer to deal with you, it’s us concierges, too. You watch yourself, sweetie. And I’ll do the same.”
Miranda disconnected and sagged back in her chair, staring sightlessly at her computer screen.
She thought of Luke explaining the hieroglyphics to her in his warm Texas drawl, of his gaze intently focused on the Morgan’s manuscripts, of his patient willingness to sign autographs for every fan who asked, and of how his skin and muscle felt against and inside her body.
Then she pictured Dennis trudging to the barn before the sun came up to milk the cows so he could make the next batch of cheese with the equipment she was paying for. She thought of Patty growing flowers to sell at her roadside stand to make a little extra money. She thought of Theo’s agile brain and the price of college tuition.
A long sigh dragged itself from her throat. Orin’s poison was bad enough with that one photo to support it. If the paparazzi caught Luke and her together again, her boss would have proof positive, and he would use it mercilessly.
He could ruin her chances at the head concierge job in the new luxury condo going up. The building wouldn’t be finished for another couple of months, which gave Orin far too much time to make trouble for her.
Disappointment filled her with a dull, gray fog.
It was better this way. She was already captivated by Luke. Spending more time with him would just make it worse when he went back to football.
With dragging steps, Miranda got up and shut the door to her office before she dialed Luke’s cell phone. When it went to his voice mail, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.
The beep sounded. “Luke, I’m very sorry, but I’m going to have to cancel our dinner plans. I have a conflict with work. Thank you for a wonderful day yesterday.” She wanted to add something about the pleasure of getting to know him, but decided it could be misconstrued as sexual. Of course, it was, but she left her message at that.
The hours that had been bright with the anticipation of seeing him again now stretched before her in dreary, colorless succession. In addition, the shadow of Orin’s ugly allegations had destroyed any joy she might take in her job today.
To cheer herself up, she dialed her favorite resident to offer him the Hamilton tickets. At least someone would be happy with her.
Twenty minutes later, a deliveryman walked into her office carrying a vase of sunflowers so large that Miranda could barely see his face behind it. “Miranda Tate?”
“That’s me.”
The man plunked the flowers down on her desk. “Jeez, lady, that arrangement is bigger than your office.”
Miranda pulled a five-dollar bill out of her drawer and handed it to him, turning his grumpiness into gratitude.
Luke had sent her Van Gogh flowers! A sigh of combined delight and regret welled up in her throat. He must have sent them before she left her message.
She pulled off the business-size envelope stapled to the plastic wrapping and ran her finger over the letters of her name in his handwriting. She loved the fact that he hadn’t called the florist and dictated the card. He must have had it messengered in.
She opened the envelope carefully and pulled out a single sheet of stationery with the Empire logo at the top. In a bold scrawl, Luke had written:
Dear Miranda,
Yesterday was surprising in more ways than one, all of them good. I figure if you like Van Gogh, you’ll like the flowers. I’ll find out what other things you like at dinner and afterward.
Luke
Miranda couldn’t help smiling, although her pleasure was laced with wistfulness. The last sentence sent a little shimmer of heat through her body. She wondered what “afterward” he had planned.
Now she would never know.
Chapter 14
Luke sat in the darkened room, trying to keep his focus on the video of last week’s matchup of the Jaguars and the Buccaneers. But he kept drifting back into memories of the day before with Miranda, and they weren’t all about the sex. He remembered moments like when she was impressed with his knowledge of Egyptian hieroglyphics. Or the way she looked at him as though he’d said something smart when he commented on the Van Gogh. And then there was the sex.
“Archer, what do you think?” The coach’s voice shattered Luke’s mental image of Miranda draped over the massage table, naked and gasping.
“It’s my week off. I don’t have to think,” Luke said.
His teammates chuckled, while Junius looked annoyed. But Luke wasn’t worried by the coach. He was more concerned about his own inability to concentrate. You didn’t win Super Bowls by daydreaming.
“Fine, how about you, Burns? You got any comments on how to keep Terrance Fairley from knocking the shit out of you and taking the ball away?”
Luke studied the clip as the Bucs’ giant linebacker put on a surprising burst of speed to slam into his opponent’s star wide receiver, causing a fumble and turnover. Junius cued up another play where the linebacker danced around a guard and a tackle to sack the quarterback. Luke let his lips curve into an evil smile as he flicked a glance at Brandon Pitch. The backup quarterback looked queasy. Luke shifted to test the condition of his bruises and felt the twinge.
Junius showed another play where Fairley flattened a tight end to create a turnover. Luke sat forward. “Can you show that one again, Coach? I might have an idea.”
