in a meeting, but let me just buzz through and let him know you’re here.”
“I’d appreciate it, Nina. I’ll only take a few minutes of his time.” She wandered over to the seating area, quietly empty now. The leather seats in navy were new, and as pricey as the antique tables and lamps and the watercolors Peter had commissioned had been. But Laura supposed he’d been right. The offices had needed some sprucing up. Appearances were important in business. Were important to Peter.
But as she gazed through the wide window she wondered how anyone could care about navy leather seats when that awesome view of the coast presented itself.
Just look at how the water rolled, how it stretched to forever. The ice plants were blooming pink, and white gulls veered in, hoping some tourist would offer a treat. See the boats on the bay, bobbing like shiny, expensive toys for menin double-breasted navy blazers and white slacks.
She lost herself in it and nearly forgot to retouch her lipstick and powder before the receptionist told her to go right in.
Peter Ridgeway’s office suited the executive director of Templeton Hotels, California. With its carefully selected Louis XIV furnishings, its glorious seascapes and sculptures, it was as erudite and flawlessly executed as the man himself. When he rose from behind the desk, her smile warmed automatically.
He was a beautiful man, bronze and gold and trim in elegant Savile Row. She had fallen in love with that face—its cool blue eyes, firm mouth and jaw—like a princess for a prince in a fairy tale. And, as in a fairy tale, he had swept her off her feet when she’d been barely eighteen. He’d been everything she’d dreamed of.
She lifted her mouth for a kiss and received an absent peck on the cheek. “I don’t have much time, Laura. I have meetings all day.” He remained standing, tilting his head, the faintest line of annoyance marring his brow. “I’ve told you it’s more convenient if you call first to be certain I can see you. My schedule isn’t as flexible as yours is.”
Her smile faded. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to talk to you last night, and when I called this morning, you were out, so—”
“I went by the club for a quick nine holes and a steam. I put in a very long night.”
“Yes, I know.” How are you, Laura? How are the girls? I missed you. She waited a moment, but he said none of those things. “You’ll be home tonight?”
“If I’m able to get back to work, I should be able to make it by seven.”
“Good. I was hoping you could. We’re having a family dinner. Margo’s back.”
His mouth tightened briefly, but he did stop looking at his watch. “Back?”
“She got in last night. She’s so unhappy, Peter. So tired.”
“Unhappy? Tired?” His laugh was quick and unamused. “I’m not surprised, after her latest adventure.” He recognized the look in his wife’s eyes and banked down on his fury. He wasn’t a man who cared for displays of temper, even his own. “For God’s sake, Laura, you haven’t invited her to stay.”
“It wasn’t a matter of inviting her. It’s her home.”
It wasn’t anger now so much as weariness. He sat, gave a long sigh. “Laura, Margo is the daughter of our housekeeper. That does not make Templeton her home. You can carry childhood loyalties too far.”
“No,” Laura said quietly. “I don’t think you can. She’s in trouble, Peter, and whether or not any of it is of her own making isn’t the issue. She needs her friends and her family.”
“Her name’s all over the papers, the news, every bloody tabloid show on the screen. Sex, drugs, name of God.”
“She was cleared of the drug charges, Peter, and she certainly isn’t the first woman to fall for a married man.”
His voice took on the tedious patience that always put her teeth on edge. “That may be true, but ‘discretion’ isn’t a word she seems to be aware of. I can’t have her name linked to ours and risk our standing
“I’d appreciate it, Nina. I’ll only take a few minutes of his time.” She wandered over to the seating area, quietly empty now. The leather seats in navy were new, and as pricey as the antique tables and lamps and the watercolors Peter had commissioned had been. But Laura supposed he’d been right. The offices had needed some sprucing up. Appearances were important in business. Were important to Peter.
But as she gazed through the wide window she wondered how anyone could care about navy leather seats when that awesome view of the coast presented itself.
Just look at how the water rolled, how it stretched to forever. The ice plants were blooming pink, and white gulls veered in, hoping some tourist would offer a treat. See the boats on the bay, bobbing like shiny, expensive toys for menin double-breasted navy blazers and white slacks.
She lost herself in it and nearly forgot to retouch her lipstick and powder before the receptionist told her to go right in.
Peter Ridgeway’s office suited the executive director of Templeton Hotels, California. With its carefully selected Louis XIV furnishings, its glorious seascapes and sculptures, it was as erudite and flawlessly executed as the man himself. When he rose from behind the desk, her smile warmed automatically.
He was a beautiful man, bronze and gold and trim in elegant Savile Row. She had fallen in love with that face—its cool blue eyes, firm mouth and jaw—like a princess for a prince in a fairy tale. And, as in a fairy tale, he had swept her off her feet when she’d been barely eighteen. He’d been everything she’d dreamed of.
She lifted her mouth for a kiss and received an absent peck on the cheek. “I don’t have much time, Laura. I have meetings all day.” He remained standing, tilting his head, the faintest line of annoyance marring his brow. “I’ve told you it’s more convenient if you call first to be certain I can see you. My schedule isn’t as flexible as yours is.”
Her smile faded. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to talk to you last night, and when I called this morning, you were out, so—”
“I went by the club for a quick nine holes and a steam. I put in a very long night.”
“Yes, I know.” How are you, Laura? How are the girls? I missed you. She waited a moment, but he said none of those things. “You’ll be home tonight?”
“If I’m able to get back to work, I should be able to make it by seven.”
“Good. I was hoping you could. We’re having a family dinner. Margo’s back.”
His mouth tightened briefly, but he did stop looking at his watch. “Back?”
“She got in last night. She’s so unhappy, Peter. So tired.”
“Unhappy? Tired?” His laugh was quick and unamused. “I’m not surprised, after her latest adventure.” He recognized the look in his wife’s eyes and banked down on his fury. He wasn’t a man who cared for displays of temper, even his own. “For God’s sake, Laura, you haven’t invited her to stay.”
“It wasn’t a matter of inviting her. It’s her home.”
It wasn’t anger now so much as weariness. He sat, gave a long sigh. “Laura, Margo is the daughter of our housekeeper. That does not make Templeton her home. You can carry childhood loyalties too far.”
“No,” Laura said quietly. “I don’t think you can. She’s in trouble, Peter, and whether or not any of it is of her own making isn’t the issue. She needs her friends and her family.”
“Her name’s all over the papers, the news, every bloody tabloid show on the screen. Sex, drugs, name of God.”
“She was cleared of the drug charges, Peter, and she certainly isn’t the first woman to fall for a married man.”
His voice took on the tedious patience that always put her teeth on edge. “That may be true, but ‘discretion’ isn’t a word she seems to be aware of. I can’t have her name linked to ours and risk our standing
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