Tough Sell (Tough Love Book 1) Page 16

  At nine a.m. Allie and the wrecking ball came up for air and pancakes, and they cooked for Dorothy too. Allie kept giving her meaningful looks and smiling but Dorothy wasn’t quite sure what was up. With Derrick in the kitchen, she didn’t feel right asking.

  By eleven a.m., when she hadn’t heard from Edward, she caved in and texted him. By eleven thirty, when she hadn’t heard back she began to fret.

  She wanted to see him. Maybe having dinner with her folks last night hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Maybe he was done with her. After all, something had definitely rocked him yesterday. She thought about the way he had hesitated when he saw her parents, the way he’d gripped her hand almost painfully. It had been as if the Edward from the first day they’d met had come roaring back. He had shaken hands almost antagonistically with her father. What was that about? She kinda liked that Ed, the one who didn’t care what anyone thought … and if she had been worried about what he thought about her, his warm praise over dinner had certainly set her mind at ease. By the time they had left the restaurant she’d been eating out of his hand … figuratively anyway.

  So why the cold shoulder now? The desire to see him, to reassure herself, came over her with a sharp urgency. She knew she shouldn’t go over to his apartment, shouldn’t go barging in and make herself too needy, too clingy. That was her pattern after all, and it hadn’t been a good one so far. It certainly hadn’t helped with Flynn. On the other hand, dropping in on Flynn had certainly cleared a lot of things up for her. Edward had seemed only too happy to have her show up at his door on Friday. She saw his expression again in her mind, remembering that hungry look on his face as he fell to his knees. Her mind was made up.

  She hurried into her room to dress before she could change her mind, pulling on a black pencil skirt and cream silk blouse. It was a business outfit but it was the only nice thing she had clean, and suddenly, she wasn’t feeling so confident about the whole sweatpants thing. She grabbed her laptop bag and keys and headed out the door. The entire ride over she kept telling herself she was absolutely bonkers. She should text him again. She should call him. She should most certainly have the cab driver take her home. By the time the cab arrived at his street, the cuticle around her thumb nail was chewed to shreds. Paying the driver and getting out felt all wrong. She knew she was certifiable and still she walked to his apartment.

  She pressed the buzzer a few times before his voice came over the intercom.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I come up?”

  “Dorothy?”

  He sounded confused and her anxiety ratcheted up a notch. Maybe she should just run away? Turn and leave and just go home. She glanced at her phone. Still no text from him. She should go. She slid her phone back into her bag.

  “Dorothy?”

  It took only few seconds to turn and descend the grimy stone steps. Behind her she heard the buzzing of the door. People on the street paid her no attention as she hurried to the corner. She would find the subway and go home that way.

  “Dorothy.” The voice was right behind her, firm and low. She shook her head. Now she really looked like an idiot. Impossible. It was impossible to look at him, so she stood still in her tracks, her cheeks burning. Why, oh why, did she do this type of crazy?

  A warm, strong hand slid around her arm above her elbow. “Dorothy.” Her name was a sigh in her ear. Arms slid around her waist, pulling her back against the hard body behind her. She looked down and saw snow white cuffs of a crisp dress shirt, the dark sleeves of a suit coat, shiny silver cuff links. Had he been at church? Was that why she received no answer?

  He turned her toward him and slid his hand under her chin. How embarrassing. She looked up and into his eyes.

  Stunningly handsome. That was her first thought. Wow, he’s really dressed up, was her next thought.

  “Were you at church?” she asked.

  Amusement crinkled the corners of his brown eyes. “Church? Me?”

  Her cheeks burned hotter if that was possible, while he slid his hand down and took hers. “Come on up.” And like that, some of the tightness left her chest. She followed him back to his building and up to his apartment. Safely inside, relieved to see the computer was off and no Gunnar was watching, she risked a smile.

  “I, um, didn’t know if you wanted to see what I’ve done on the campaign.”

  He leaned against the wall of his minuscule entrance way, the fine wool of his dark suit gleaming in the sunlight from the windows. His arms were crossed loosely across his chest and he seemed to be enjoying the awkwardness that threatened to swallow her alive. Looking at him, a peevishness overcame her.

  “What?” She flung an arm into the air, gesturing in the rough direction of the aggravating man. “What do you want?”

  His expression changed and she felt as if her breath was coming in shallow gasps. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said.

  He pushed off of the wall and spread his hands wide, pursing his mouth a bit and shrugging. “What?”

  “You’re feeling sorry for me,” she accused.

  He shrugged again. “Maybe.” His voice was teasing. “Maybe not.”

  She stood her ground as he advanced. “I changed my mind,” she said. Her eyes flitted toward the door. Maybe she could leave now before she felt any more ridiculous.

  “Did you call me?”

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t, she was officially mortified now. He brought out his phone, his wide shoulders filling the space before the door. She would never get out of there without dodging around him and she felt for sure that, if she came within his reach, he would grab her. So she forced herself to hold up her chin, as he checked his phone.

  “No missed calls,” he glanced up. “Text maybe?” He thumbed the screen. “Ah, one.” He looked up at her, his eyes curious and gentle. “One unanswered text and here you are?”

  Drat him. She couldn’t resist the pull to look away.

  “I see,” he drawled and he stepped closer.

  Dorothy gestured at his suit … “Are you coming back or on your way out?”

  He glanced down at his attire and back to her. “I’m going out. Why?”

  Why did he push at her? He knew all there was to know about her being here. His taunting made that clear. “Well, then. I guess I’d better be going. I didn’t mean to interrupt your plans.” She moved to dodge around him, but as she expected, he caught her arm.

  “Dorothy. Look at me.”

  She complied reluctantly, not sure what it was going to cost her. He was tormenting her now.

  “I’m going to a lecture. Would you like to come?” His expression remained kind.

  “I-I don’t want to bother you,” she whispered.

  “So brave,” he said and she stared at him, stunned. He was brushing her hair back from her face. “I wish I was half as brave as you.” He let her go. “Luckily, you’re dressed appropriately, so we won’t be late. When we get back I’ll lend you some sweats.” He smiled at her. “This should be about two hours, let’s go.”

  He held her hand as he led her down to the curb and flagged a cab, gave the driver directions and handed her in. He pulled the door shut. The cab smelled musty but the windows were clean and she studiously looked out at the pedestrians as they sped downtown. “What lecture are we attending?”

  “It’s more of a symposium on greenhouse gasses. There will be several speakers, I’m not sure exactly who. I know most of the players in this area, so I didn’t bother to prepare myself.”

  She glanced at him through her lashes. What did that mean? Prepare for what? “And you’re attending … why?”

  He shrugged, although his face didn’t look as casual as the gesture implied. He looked tense.

  “I like to know my enemies I guess.” He looked at her. “And who knows, maybe there will be someone there who actually wants to win this fight.”

  She was still rolling that cryptic statement over in her thoughts when the taxi pulled to the side and they got out. />
  They were at NYU.

  “What enemies?” she asked as she followed him toward a presentation hall. There were about a hundred people there, most dressed casually, though there were still about a third of them dressed in business clothes, like they were. She looked over at Edward. He was most certainly dressed up and from what she knew of him by now, she was suddenly sure the clothes were a defensive measure. But why?

  “Hey, what enemies?” she asked.

  “People who don’t want my products out in the marketplace yet. You’ll see. Someone will bring it up today.” He ended the line of questioning by turning his attention to their surroundings. Lining the hallway were several booths. One of them Dorothy recognized as being a client of Cogent Digital Partners. She gave a tug at Edward’s arm.

  “I think Kathy might have worked on this booth. Can we take a look?”

  Dorothy pulled him toward the booth. It was a political action company that advocated for carbon emission laws. The design was fresh and appealing, using photos of inviting landscapes overlaid with upbeat messaging designed to give the potential donor a feeling of impact.

  “Who did you say worked on this?” Edward asked her. His face was open and appraising.

  “Kathy,” Dorothy said, maybe a little proudly. “She’s been my mentor at work.”

  “I can see her influence in your work.” He gave her hand a squeeze. Dorothy looked around to see if Kathy was nearby. Sometimes the agency folks came to events like this when they were held in New York. No luck. There was nobody there she recognized.

  “Do you like it?” she asked Edward.

  “I do.” He smiled at her. “Not as much as I like yours though.”

  Peter Brookings wandered through the hallway outside the auditorium, running through the specific points he wanted to make during his speech. He’d decided to adapt it slightly after speaking to Doug, but he still felt off. Kind of how he felt when he met with Doug Lloyd. The man’s actions seemed to be impeccable, and in a lot of ways, Peter wanted to be just like him. The guy certainly was no push over, but he managed to invest in companies that advanced the greater social good, and, he became rich doing it. Peter had been trained as an environmental scientist. During the research phase of his academic career, he’d realized that doing research would drive him quietly crazy. It was just, too dull. So he’d done a one-eighty and gone into marketing, but his first love was still all things geo. Up until now, he’d done his best to keep his personal views out of their advertising business except for insisting on handling the environmentally friendly accounts. After speaking with Doug, he’d started to think he should insist that the company start to exclude those customers that were not in line with his personal values, like Doug did.

  On the other hand, the man just made Peter uneasy. It had to do with the fact that Doug’s expression never seemed to match his words or actions. When Peter discussed climate change, he got jazzed, he got excited, invested. When Doug was discussing his investments and companies, the man looked more like he was running an adding machine in his head. That difference stuck in Peter’s mind any time he met with the guy. It didn’t make sense and Peter couldn’t stop trying to reconcile that difference. Shrugging his shoulders, as if to shake off the discomfort of the conflict, Peter searched the crowd for Kathy. He had rather hoped she might change her mind and show up. They had some booths set up and it would have been nice to have her here. He wanted her to hear his speech.

  Instead, he had the nasty shock of seeing Doug Lloyd himself, plowing through the small crowd of people, headed straight for him. Peter stood up taller.

  “Peter,” Doug said, extending his hand. Peter shoved aside his first instinct, which was to thrust his hands in his pockets, and shook instead.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” was all he could think of. Doug eyed him up, seeming to enjoy Peter’s uneasiness.

  “Pre-speech nerves?” Doug asked.

  “Absolutely not,” Peter replied, slightly offended. He spoke all the time.

  “Are you going to make a plea for macro-policy over micro-products when it comes to carbon emissions?” Doug asked, his face predatory.

  Peter had a sudden impulse to tell the guy to go fuck himself, followed by a deep, but unhelpful, desire to simply give his original speech. He reminded himself how much business the redhead in front of him created for CDP. “Absolutely.”

  A smile weaseled across Doug’s face, sleek and sharp. “Good.”

  Physical relief passed over Peter as Doug looked away from him and started scanning the crowd. Doug’s smile faded. “I thought you were going to turn down the Walker Birkeland account,” he said flatly. Doug straightened and took a half step forward, his face tense. A tall man with shaggy brown hair and an impeccably tailored dark suit seemed to have caught Doug’s attention. Next to the man, a familiar blond woman was looking at the one of his booths. “And what is Dorothy Johansen doing with Ed Walker?”

  Stunned, Peter watched as the most genuine emotion he’d ever seen on Doug’s face emerged. It was fear.

  And then, it was fury.

  Doug rounded on him and Peter took a step back before turning and walking farther down the hall. He didn’t want whatever this was, to play out in full view of everyone. When Peter had some distance between them and the crowd, he turned back to Doug.

  “Well?” Doug asked.

  “Well, she’s Carl Johansen’s daughter. Adam is getting ready to fire her, but he wanted to do it in a way that she would accept and wouldn’t cause us trouble, I guess,” Peter said. He shrugged. What was the big deal? “He gave her the Walker and Birkeland campaign because he knows she won’t be able to pull it off. Solves your problem and our problem.”

  To his amazement, Doug’s face became splotched with red and before his eyes, went sheet white. Peter took another step back. Doug Lloyd was a very powerful, very rich man who happened to appear very crazy just now. Peter didn’t want to bring any of that fury his way if he could help it. “Look, she’s going to be fired on Monday. Twenty-four hours from now.”

  “They are holding hands,” Doug hissed.

  Peter leaned to look past Doug. “Huh. Even better. She’s completely unprofessional. One more reason to let her go.”

  Doug leaned in, the whites wide around his watery blue eyes, his thin mouth curled. His breath was stale and Peter couldn’t keep a frown of distaste from crossing his face.

  “This is exactly what I didn’t want to have happen,” Doug said.

  “Doug? Doug Lloyd?” Dorothy’s voice drifted to them and Doug froze with his back to her. Peter saw her waving at them and then Doug was pushing past him.

  “Don’t let that bitch follow me,” he said as he left.

  Next to him, Edward heard a small gasp.

  “That’s Doug Lloyd. Over there with Peter Brookings. That’s the guy I think would be the perfect investor for you,” Dorothy said.

  Edward turned and scanned the crowd. A taller man, slightly boyish looking, stood talking to a redheaded fellow. The redhead had his back to them.

  Dorothy started squeezing through the crowd, waving her free hand, calling the guy’s name and trying to wrench her other hand out of his.

  The redhead, appearing not to have heard Dorothy, moved rapidly away from them. Edward felt his scalp tingle, it seemed like there was something about the man that he recognized but he couldn’t place him.

  “Darn it,” she said. “I wanted to introduce you.” Edward smiled at the sound of her impatient frustration.

  “Dorothy Johansen. What a pleasant surprise—come to cheer me on?” The taller man didn’t look pleasantly surprised at all and he’d noticed the fact they were holding hands. Well tough shit. Edward felt Dorothy reflexively pull at her hand. She grimaced, but he didn’t let her pull free.

  “And who is this?” the man asked pointedly, looking at Edward. He reminded Edward of that Brit who was in the chick flicks.

  “This is Edward Walker,” Dorothy breathed. He
r fingers wriggled inside his grip but he wouldn’t let her go. “Ed, this is Peter Brookings. He and Adam Blanchard own CDP.”

  “Walker, what a pleasure,” Peter said. From the tone of his voice, the meeting was anything but. Edward bristled at that but figured that had been the point of it, so he kept his face calm. Peter turned his attention back to Dorothy and Edward felt his skin crawl. “I’m surprised to see you here, Dot. I didn’t think your interest in the company’s business ran beyond reality-TV stars and shoes.”

  Dorothy flushed but gamely held Peter’s gaze. She finally yanked her fingers from Edward’s grip and then she took a large step toward Peter.

  “I’m interested in many things, Peter.” She replied neatly. Where was the woman who could barely look him in the eye only a half hour ago? “Especially anything that can reduce global warming.”

  “Well, then you’ll want to stay for my presentation,” Peter said. “Walker.” Peter nodded at them and walked briskly away.

  “You should have let go of my hand,” she hissed. “Do you want me to lose my job?”

  “It would have looked worse,” Edward answered. “He’d already noticed before we even saw him, I’m sure. Letting go like school children caught red-handed would have made it worse.” He paused. “Trust me. Bullies always go for the weak spot.”

  She looked at him wide eyed. “Bullies? You’re calling him a bully?” They made their way into the auditorium.

  “You heard what he said to you. A man in his position should have no need to make comments like that. He’s a bully.” He searched the available seats and found a pair on the aisle. “Come on, let’s sit down.”

  Once they were settled and the first presenter took the stage, Edward relaxed.

  He held Dorothy’s hand loosely and could feel the warmth of her knee pressing against his thigh. Her attention was on the stage and it occurred to him, that just sitting here, with a woman who shared his interests felt terrific. An experience like this must be so normal to other men, yet had always seemed beyond his reach. An image of himself as a young man, kneeling in the grass, flashed in his mind. The video. Sooner or later Dorothy would find out and then, well, she would look at him differently, wouldn’t she? He imagined her eyes, full of revulsion, as she turned from him and left his apartment. That thought was swiftly answered with a painful tightness in his chest. Oh yes, he was in deep already. There was no chance to save himself the pain, only postpone it as long as possible. He shifted in his chair.