If He Only Knew...

Brush in midair, Chloe backed out of her way. “What are you doing?”

“I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

Sara didn’t answer. Nor did she acknowledge the stares of the other clients as she hurried through the salon in the pink silk robe and with packets of foil wrapped in her hair. She went past the reception desk and straight out into the street before bringing the phone to her ear again.

“Sorry,” she said, trying to blend into the landscaped courtyard beside the entrance.

“Is this a bad time?” His deep voice went right through her, taking her back to that night. That kiss.

“No, not really. I’m just surprised to hear from you.” She figured Dakota might have called, but never Cody.

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Really surprised?”

“Yes. Really.” She turned her back to a couple strolling by on the sidewalk. When a teenage boy riding a skateboard slowed down near her to stare, she glared at him. “What?”

“I beg your pardon?” Cody asked uncertainly.

“No, not you. It was this kid—”

“This is a bad time.”

“No, I mean—is there anything in particular you wanted?” That came out totally wrong. She should’ve sent him a thank-you note for the bracelet. She’d even made several attempts. But in the end, cowardice won over manners.

After a long pause, he said, “How about I call you back later?”

“No, it’s okay. Anyway, I wanted to thank you for the bracelet.” The breathless words were barely out of her mouth when she heard the salon door open and turned to see Chloe frowning at her.

“You realize you can exchange it if you don’t like it.”

She gave Chloe her back and lowered her voice. “Oh, no, I love it. I’m wearing it right now, in fact.”

“Good.” He sounded genuinely pleased. “Look, the reason I called is to ask if you’d have dinner with me.”

“Dinner?” Was he kidding? “When?”

“Tonight.”

“But—” In the background, she heard a woman’s voice announcing that a flight to Acapulco had been delayed. “Where are you?”

“Here. Atlanta.”

She nearly dropped the phone.

“What’s going on?” Chloe got in her face.

Sara fiercely waved her away while putting distance between them. “Are you at the airport?”

“I just arrived.”

She swallowed. He hadn’t wasted any time calling her. Should she be flattered, or scared out of her mind?

Scared won.

The truth wasn’t her friend at the moment. She wasn’t who Cody thought she was, and she wanted it left that way. She cleared her throat, then asked, “Here on business?”

“Yes, for the week.”

That wasn’t the answer she’d expected. When she’d worked for the firm, Cody never traveled. He’d always sent an underling. “Must be a big client.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “About tonight?”

Cody. Here in Atlanta. It didn’t seem real. “All right,” she said slowly, trying to remember if she was supposed to be somewhere tonight. But she couldn’t think straight. Not that it mattered. How could she not see him? “Where are you staying?”

“The Ritz-Carlton on Peachtree. Would you like to meet there?”

“No.” She squeezed her eyes shut, mentally kicking herself for her abruptness. But she couldn’t get through the lobby without a dozen people recognizing her. “I thought maybe you’d like to experience a little local color.”

“Sure. Name the place.”

Oh, God. “Could you hold for just a moment, please?” Without waiting for his answer, she turned to get Chloe. She was at the door of the salon about to go inside. Sara frantically motioned her back, and then met her halfway, holding the phone behind her back. “I need a name and address of a restaurant.”

Chloe narrowed her gaze. “Is this a joke?”

“Chloe, please.”

She gave Sara a curious look, and then said, “Café Tu Tu Tango in Buckhead.”

“Thanks, I’ll be right back in.” She waited, keeping the phone right where it was so he couldn’t hear.

Chloe gave her another questioning look and then went into the salon.

Sara brought the phone back up to her ear as the name Chloe had given her registered. Chloe wouldn’t send her to someplace too weird, would she?

Ignoring the older woman with the ridiculously permed hair and disapproving look who climbed into the rear seat of a limo, Sara turned her attention back to Cody. “How about we meet at Café Tu Tu Tango in Buckhead? Any taxi driver will know where it is.” Not that she did. Of course, she’d been to the Buckhead district many times, but not that restaurant.

“Fine. What time?”

She glanced at her watch. God, she was insane for doing this. “Seven-thirty?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Okay, me, too.” She cringed at her lameness.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you, Sara,” he said, his voice so low and husky her mouth went dry. Then he disconnected the call, leaving her weak-kneed and questioning the prudence of showing up tonight.

Of course she would. She had better manners than to stand anyone up. Oh, God. Where was Shelby when she needed her? Sara took a deep breath and headed back into the salon to face the stares and exchanged looks as she passed through the lobby. She ignored them all as she nonchalantly lowered herself back into Chloe’s chair.

Chloe didn’t miss a beat. She draped the cape Sara had discarded, then picked up the bowl of color solution. After glancing around, Chloe leaned close to Sara’s ear. “What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

Sara disregarded the sarcasm. This wasn’t something she’d discuss with Chloe, especially since the woman’s answer for everything was to go for it. Besides, Chloe didn’t understand what it meant to be rich. She was like so many other people who thought money solved every problem. How could you be unhappy if you could buy anything you wanted?

Fortunately, they hadn’t been defined by a trust fund, like Sara and her sister. As soon as a man heard Sara’s last name, it was over. There was no way to tell if it was her he wanted. Or the money. Or the publicity. Those people who thought she had it so good hadn’t had expectations so huge they thought they would choke on them. One mistake and the local press was all over them, almost as if they’d been waiting for one of the Wellingtons to fall from grace. There was no privacy. Not in Atlanta, anyway.

And here Cody was. In the thick of things. What was he doing here for an entire week? It didn’t make sense. At least she knew where he was staying. She could call and excuse herself for tonight. Tell him she’d forgotten an engagement on her calendar.

In fact, now she had his cell number. Her gaze fell to the small cell phone she still clutched in her hand. Should she program his number, or…

“Fine. Give me the silent treatment.” Chloe turned to sip her French vanilla latte and then with an acerbic look returned to brushing on the highlights.

Sara wasn’t big on sharing confidences. Except, of course, with Shelby. Although she didn’t have to worry about Chloe. She was discreet, just like every other stylist at Papillon in deference to their high-profile clientele.

“Okay, there was this guy in New York…”

“Yeah?” Chloe’s eyebrows went up but she kept working. “And?”

“He didn’t step up to the plate until my last night there. So honest, nothing to tell.”

Stepping back, Chloe gave her a wry look.

“I’m serious.”

“He give you the bracelet?”

“Yes, but nothing happened. He was…out of reach, you know?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were high. The only man that could be out of reach for you is damn Prince Charles, but that’s not the point. When was the last time you had a date?”

“I can always count on you to make me feel better.”

“Sorry.” Chloe smiled sheepishly. “Tell me about this guy and I promise to skip the editorials.”

She breathed in deeply. “He’s an attorney, a senior partner in one of the foremost law firms in Manhattan. But I think he’s only about thirty-five. Which means he’s intelligent and ambitious.”

“Or that he’s sleeping with the boss.” Chloe winced, when Sara gave her a dirty look. “I’m supposed to shut up.”

“That’s what I get for asking the impossible.”

“No, come on. What does he look like?”

“Tall, maybe just over six feet. Athletic-looking. Kind of light brown hair, or maybe you’d call it dark blond. I’m not sure what the difference is.” She stopped and thought a moment. He wore his hair too short, in her opinion, so she really hadn’t noticed it much. It was his eyes that got to her. “Bluish green,” she said and then looked at an obviously confused Chloe. “His eyes. They’re this bluish green color that’s really hard to describe.”

Chloe smiled and kept working.

“What?”

“Girl, you got it bad.”

“I do not. He’s just—” She slumped. “Okay, so what do I do about it?”

“You have to ask?”

“Ouch!” Sara jerked.

Chloe eased up on the hair she was applying color to. “That wasn’t deliberate. Although I hope it jarred some sense into you.”

“All right, all right. He’s here for a week. I promise to see him at least twice.”

Chloe sighed dramatically. “I’m so proud.”

“I have one little problem.” Sara met her eyes and waited for her words to sink in.

“He doesn’t know who you are,” Chloe said quietly.

Sara shook her head. “Which means I can’t take him back to Shelby’s and my apartment. And he’s staying at the Ritz-Carlton.”

“Shit.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself.”

“Wait.” Chloe freed her hands and pulled out the top drawer. She withdrew a ridiculously small red purse and dug inside until she produced a set of keys. “Ta da. The answer is my apartment. Think about it. The timing is perfect.” Careful of her long red fingernails, she separated a key from the others and handed it to Sara. “I’ll be gone for a week. I have to be at the airport tonight at six, so it’s yours from 4 p.m. on.”

Sara stared at the silver key in her hand. Was this fate, or what?

Chloe went back to work as if the matter were settled. “The microwave died a couple of months ago. I don’t eat at home much, so I haven’t replaced it. I don’t even know if the oven works. But I’ve only had the apartment for two years.”

Sara laughed. “You’re sure about this? Because I can—”

“Come on, you wanna get laid, or what?”

Sara briefly closed her eyes. Not a good day for Chloe to be testing her patience.

“Relax. Nobody heard.”

“Look, Chloe, I appreciate what you’re doing, but you can’t tell anyone about this. I’m serious.”

“That hurt.”

“I apologize.” Sara sighed. This whole thing was too bizarre for words. “I do. I totally trust you.”

“You gotta lighten up. You’re only twenty-seven. Have some fun.”

Technically Sara was still twenty-six, but darn it, Chloe was absolutely right. For the rest of her life she’d regret not jumping at this chance to be with Cody. She only wished the opportunity had presented itself in New York and not Atlanta where she knew half the people in the city. Or rather, they knew her.

2

A T SEVEN-FIFTEEN, Cody slowly got out of the cab in front of Café Tu Tu Tango. He knew this was the right restaurant. Unlikely he’d have gotten both the name and location wrong, and the driver had known exactly where to go. But this definitely wasn’t the type of restaurant he’d had in mind. Nor would he have guessed it was the kind of place that met with Sara’s taste.

But then again, what did he really know about the woman? Other than she couldn’t be more wrong for him and had a wide smile that made him behave like a stupid prepubescent teen. In his saner moments he’d wondered about her many contradictions. She’d sublet a fifth-floor walk-up in Manhattan that was the size of a postage stamp, and she didn’t go with the rest of the staff to their daily lunches, preferring to eat alone in the park or at her desk from the same brown paper bag. Yet she wore really expensive shoes and, according to his sources, her purse cost a bundle, and it wasn’t a knockoff.

Nothing wrong with desiring the finer things. He settled for nothing less. But he knew how much money she made as a temporary office worker. Something didn’t add up. And that should have made him nervous. Not intrigued.

In fact, he almost hoped that he’d find out she was one of those women. The kind that lived in dives and spent all their money on expensive accessories and hung out at ritzy bars in the hope of finding a rich husband.

A couple of law school friends had been taken to the cleaners by women of that ilk, but he’d been lucky to avoid the trap himself. Actually, luck had nothing to do with it. He was careful. Selective. Although he had no political ambitions at this point, he had no intention of screwing up his career or any future options.

He looked again at the colorful restaurant sign. Café Tu Tu Tango? Maybe it was a Southern thing.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at his watch. One week. That’s all he’d be in Atlanta for. He’d probably have dinner with Sara a couple of times. Maybe even invite her back to his hotel for one discreet night. Then he’d head back to New York. How much trouble could he get into?

He headed for the door of the restaurant, his step quickening at the thought of seeing Sara. If he didn’t like the place, he’d persuade her to come back to the hotel with him, to the Atlanta Grill.

Just as he opened the door, a couple stumbled out. He quickly moved back, but the woman’s stiff blue spiked hair scraped across his chin, the heavy smell of gin assaulting his nostrils.

“’Scuse us,” the young man with an unfortunate tattoo scrawled around his neck said, and then guided his partner down the sidewalk.

Cody adjusted his right cuff. This obviously was not a good idea. Stepping inside the restaurant further convinced him. Not only was the place packed with people, but the room itself was a dizzying avalanche of color. And noise. God almighty.

There were paintings everywhere, on practically every surface. Everything from contemporary oils to copies of masterpieces. There was a rather loud three-piece band on a second-story stage, and dancers with big blue twirling skirts.

“Hi, do you have a reservation?” A pretty blonde, or she might have been had she not had both her nose and left eyebrow pierced and bolted, approached him.

“I don’t think so.” He glanced around, hoping Sara had also arrived early.

“Oops.” Sighing, the blonde consulted a list, using the tip of a bright pink fingernail that matched her short tight spandex dress. “We’re full up tonight.”

“Thank you, anyway.” He’d wait outside and give Sara the bad news. Meanwhile, he’d get them another reservation.

“Were you meeting someone?”

He’d already started to leave and withdrawn his cell phone to call the hotel concierge. “Yes, but that’s all right.”

“What’s the name?”

“Sara Wells.”

“Ah, yes. Chloe made a reservation for the two of you. The lady’s not here yet, though.” The woman smiled, and Cody caught a flash of a silver stud embedded in her tongue. “You can wait at the table or the bar.”

Damn. He jammed his cell phone back inside his suit jacket. “The table, thank you.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the door, futilely hoping to see Sara, and then followed the blonde to a table in the back of the restaurant.

Although the patrons were an odd assortment of yuppies and bohemian types, none appeared to be financially lacking. Judging by the abundance of Louis Vuitton and Chanel purses sitting on tables, and the gold Rolexes encircling many a wrist. Of course the accessories could all be knockoffs, or then again, supporting evidence of social climbing.

God, he didn’t want to think that about Sara. But he wasn’t going to be taken for a fool, either.

He sat down, taking the seat that faced the entry, and was promptly approached by a waitress who took his scotch order. While he waited, he glanced around and noticed that a young man was actually painting on a canvas while three others at his table watched. The abstract he worked on was actually pretty good. He couldn’t say the same for the acoustics. The music was too loud, and so was the laughter and chatter all around him. He’d wanted a nice, quiet dinner. One where he and Sara could talk.

The waitress returned with his drink, but before he could ask her anything, he saw Sara heading toward him. A simple, sleeveless cream-colored blouse was tucked into the slim waist of her jeans, and her blond hair seemed slightly wilder than he remembered her wearing it. Longer, too, skimming her shoulders. She looked so beautiful.

He started to rise but she waved for him to stay seated. To his amazement, his heart beat faster the closer she got to him. That hadn’t happened since he was twenty. In court, at times, while awaiting a verdict. But he hadn’t been this attracted to a woman since…

Since that damn kiss.

“Traffic was brutal,” she said as she pulled out a chair and gracefully sat down. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Just got here. And I’m early.” He’d forgotten how much he liked her lilting Southern accent. Not too pronounced. Soothing. Which was odd, because accents generally annoyed him.

She glanced at her watch, frowned and then promptly lowered her wrist and smiled. “Interesting place, huh?”

“That’s an understatement.”

She looked past him, her gaze narrowing as it flitted around.

“It’s got a lot of energy.” He caught their waitress’s eye as she served drinks at another table and she gave him a nod.

“I’ll say.”

“You seem surprised.”

She shifted, clearly uncomfortable, but only shrugged a shoulder. “I was getting my hair done when you called and I asked my hairdresser for a recommendation.”

“Ah. I like it.”

“What?”

“Your hair.”

“Oh.” She absently tugged at a curl that wound its way toward her cheek. “Not my usual.”

“No,” he agreed. At work she’d always worn her hair in a sleeker style, one he normally preferred on women. But this sexy tousled look suited her heart-shaped face and contradicted those clear, innocent blue eyes. “So where do you usually go?”

“Me?”

He smiled. “Yes.”

Sara gave a self-deprecating shake of her head, her lips curving. “I don’t go out much.”

He found that hard to believe. She had to have a lot of dates. “Really?”

She briefly met his eyes and then turned her attention to the waitress who’d finally shown up. Sara ordered white wine, and then changed her mind and asked for a frozen margarita. “Dakota got me hooked on those,” she said as the waitress walked away. “How is she, by the way?”

“Great. Busy as usual.”

Sara’s gaze narrowed. “So what are you doing in Atlanta?”

“Representing a client.”

“I didn’t think you ever left New York.”

He smiled. Basically, that was true.

“Seriously. I would’ve thought you’d have sent Matthew or Sterling.”

“Yes, well…” Of course he should have. Everyone in the office was probably wondering the same thing. Dakota had been the only one to call him on his decision to come himself. She’d even had the nerve to ask if Sara was the reason. As if he’d let his personal feelings influence a professional decision. “The guy I’m representing…his father is an important client and he’s called in a favor. His son’s gotten himself into a little trouble that’s become too public.”

She seemed to tense, her pink-tinted lips tightening as she leaned forward. “Anyone I would know?”

The local papers had already run the story so it wasn’t a matter of maintaining confidentiality. Her reaction, however, made him hesitate. He shook it off. What difference could it possibly make? “Harrison Manning Junior.”

“Ah.” She relaxed back in her chair. “I read something about him in the newspaper. He’ll never see the inside of a courtroom.”

“Not if I do my job,” he said, confused at the flash of anger in her eyes. “Do you know him?”

“He’s in the Journal a lot. This isn’t the first time he’s gotten himself in a mess.”

That was news to him. “Really?” Cody picked up his drink and took a sip while studying her over the rim, his curiosity piqued. This was supposed to be a slam dunk case.

She blushed a pretty pink, then shook her head. “I don’t really know. It’s just gossip.”

He decided he didn’t want to talk about Harrison Manning Junior. “What have you been doing?” he asked. “Since you got back.”

She looked down at her hands, then back at him. “Still temping.”

That surprised and annoyed him. She was too talented to still be drifting. “Dakota tells me you’ve taken some law classes…”

She nodded and then picked up one of the menus the hostess had left. “Have you had a look at this, yet?”

“She also told me that you’d caught a couple of significant errors in—”

She looked up, clearly flustered. “Are you trying to recruit me?”

“I thought I was making small talk.”

Sighing, she sank back. “Sorry. I had a bad day. Traffic. You know…”

“Well, since you brought it up, how would you like to assist me while I’m here? Thirty percent over whatever we paid you in New York.”

Her gaze met his, her blue eyes narrowing in alarm. Her lips, pink and glistening from a slow swipe of her tongue, parted slightly. “I already have a job this week.”

“Hey, that’s fine. That’s good. Just thought I’d…” He picked up his menu and pretended to read it. He had to stop staring at Sara before he said or did something stupid again. What if she’d accepted his ridiculous offer? Where had that come from, anyway? He’d always kept his social and professional life separate.

That was the problem. He didn’t know what he wanted from Sara. His whole attraction to her was weird. Sure she was gorgeous, but they basically had nothing in common. It wasn’t like college, where he felt free to pursue any woman at any time. Besides the fact that he wasn’t a kid anymore, his career was too important for him to not be discriminating.

“Cody, what are you really doing here?” she asked, breaking into his thoughts, her tone bordering on accusing, as if she’d read his mind.

He reluctantly looked up from the menu. “Excuse me?”

“Come on. Tell me.”

The challenge in her eyes made him smile. “I have a client—”

She tilted her head to the side. “I know why you’re here. I just don’t understand it.”

“Don’t understand what?”

“You barely gave me the time of day when I was in New York.”

“That’s not true.”

“And then that last night—” She briefly looked away, and then stared back with determination, leaning closer, the undersides of her breasts grazing the table. In a low voice, she asked, “What was that about?”

He felt his face flush in embarrassment. He turned to his menu and prayed for a waitress.

“Don’t be defensive. Please. I just don’t understand why you didn’t ask me out months ago.”

He looked up at the change in her tone. There was no accusation, just curiosity, and that he understood. “You were working for the firm.”

She looked him straight in the eyes. “Was that the only reason?”

He shook his head. “Man, I should’ve gone to a Braves’ game.”

“I assume that means I’m not going to get any more out of you, right? Well, that’s okay. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot. As for the Braves, they’re out of town, playing the Cubs. But they’ll be back on Wednesday.”

“You like baseball?”

Her eyes widened. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Uh, no. You go to the games?”

“Most of them. Are you a Mets’fan by any chance?”

Amazing. She was the only woman he knew who liked baseball. “Hell, yes.”

“I bet you have great season tickets.”

“I don’t have time to go to the games. I try to catch the scores on ESPN.”

“That’s sad,” she said earnestly. “The fun part of baseball is sitting in the stadium with all the noise and eating hot dogs and popcorn. Oh, and I love those big pretzels.”