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The moment she came out of the bathroom, the pay phone in the lounge area started to ring again. Once again she paused. When no one came this time, she walked over and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Elizabeth.”
Her whispered name sent a chill up her spine as the blood in her veins turned to ice.
Without thinking, Elizabeth slammed down the phone and spun, expecting to find someone standing behind her. Reaching out for her.
No one was there. But as she stood motionless, the bathroom door opened and the young woman came out. She had her cell phone in one hand, but instead of making a call, she headed back out to the restaurant.
The pay phone started to ring again.
Elizabeth whirled back around and stared at it for a moment, then snatched it up. “Hello?”
“I think I have a wrong number,” a masculine voice said with a sigh. “You’re not Carol, are you?”
“No. This is a pay phone at a restaurant.”
“Sorry to have bothered you.”
“No bother,” she mumbled and hung up.
Whatever had possessed her to answer the phone in the first place? Elizabeth wondered as she walked back to her table. And why had she thought she’d heard her name when she first answered?
Obviously she was hearing things. Slamming doors. Music coming from Damon’s room. And now her name, whispered in a voice that sent another chill up her spine just thinking about it.
Yes, it was definitely time to make a change in her life.
Even though cell phones were taboo in the dining room, Elizabeth could see that Frankie was talking on hers as she approached the table. She quickly ended the call when she saw Elizabeth. “Hey, I was just talking to…” Her words trailed off. “What’s wrong?”
Elizabeth barely heard her. Her attention was focused on one of the tables by the window, where the woman she’d seen in the restroom had just sat down with a dark-haired companion. The woman was laughing and leaning in intimately to hang on his every word. He had his back to Elizabeth, but when he turned to signal the waiter, she recognized his profile. It was Paul.
It’s the kind of day that makes you glad to be in love.
As the woman’s words came back to her, Elizabeth’s heart began to pound in slow, painful beats. She couldn’t seem to move. She stood mesmerized by the sight of her husband with another woman.
Frankie followed her gaze and then gasping slightly, stood and grabbed Elizabeth’s arm. “Come on, honey. Let’s get out of here.”
She kept a firm hold on Elizabeth’s arm as she led her out of the restaurant and then, once they were on the street, she started to swear.
Elizabeth said nothing.
Her tirade finally over, Frankie swiped back her black hair. “Okay, I feel better.” She gave Elizabeth a sympathetic look. “You know I’d like to go in there and give that bastard a piece of my mind, don’t you? But we have to keep things in perspective. It’s not the end of the world. You’re going to divorce him anyway. Granted, he should have let the ink dry on the final decree before he got himself a hot, young girlfriend….” She swore again and clapped a hand to her mouth. “I can’t believe I just said that. I’m sorry, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. The man’s a pig, but show me one who isn’t. Let’s just try to look on the bright side here. If he’s got a girlfriend, he’s not going to want to make waves about the settlement. That gives you leverage. Power.” Frankie’s brown eyes gleamed in the sunlight. “You can stick it to him but good after this.”
She was right, Elizabeth tried to tell herself. She and Paul were getting a divorce, so what did it matter if he was already seeing someone else? He was a young, handsome, successful businessman. Elizabeth hadn’t expected him to be on the market forever. It would have been nice if he’d waited, as Frankie said, until the ink was dry on the divorce papers, but in the long run it didn’t change anything.
So why did she feel so hurt? So utterly devastated and betrayed? Paul had a right to find happiness. They both did.
It’s okay, she kept telling herself over and over. It was going to be okay.
“Let’s just get back to the shop,” Frankie said. “We can talk about it there.”
Elizabeth hesitated. She didn’t want to talk about what she’d just seen. Not yet. It was too fresh. Too confusing. “I think I’ll just walk around for a while. You don’t mind, do you? As you said, Wednesdays are usually pretty slow.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” Frankie said. “Wednesdays are dull as dirt, so Karen and I can definitely hold down the fort. It’s just…I hate to leave you alone.”
“I’m fine,” Elizabeth assured her. She even managed to muster up a smile. “I just need some fresh air. I’ll be back in a little while.”
Frankie nodded. “I’ll see you back at the shop. Lizzy…” She reached out and put her hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “It really is going to be okay, you know.”
“I know.”
But it wasn’t okay. No matter how many times Elizabeth tried to tell herself otherwise, her life was never going to be okay again. Her son was dead and her husband was seeing another woman.
As she stared at the restaurant, a breeze from the water drifted through her hair, lifting it as though an invisible hand caressed it.
Shivering uncontrollably, Elizabeth turned and walked away.
Chapter Two
She’d been waiting in the coffee shop across from Paul’s building for nearly half an hour when she finally spotted his silver Lexus pull into the attached parking garage.
Giving him a few more minutes, Elizabeth finished her coffee, then tossed the disposable cup in the trash can as she left the shop and crossed the street to the office building. When she got off the elevator on the thirty-second floor, the receptionist greeted her warmly.
“Elizabeth! I was just thinking the other day how long it’s been since I’ve seen you. How are you?”
“I’m fine, Angie, thanks. And you?”
“Can’t complain,” the older woman said with a smile.
“How’s your mother?” Elizabeth asked. “The last time we spoke, she was going in for surgery. A problem with her back, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, goodness me, that was ages ago. How nice of you to remember. Mother’s doing well for someone her age. She’s eighty-six, you know. She’ll probably outlive me, the rate she’s going. I’ll be sure and tell her you asked about her.”
“Yes, please give her my best.” Elizabeth paused. “Is my— Is Paul in?”
“I just saw him come back from lunch a few minutes ago. Do you want me to ring him?”
“I’d rather just go on back, if that’s okay.”
“Oh, sure.” Angie waved toward the corridor to the right of her desk. “You know the way.”
Elizabeth rounded the corner to Paul’s office, then stopped dead. The redhead from the restaurant sat behind the desk outside Paul’s door. She was on the phone, and when Elizabeth first saw her, she wanted to turn and walk quickly away. But the woman glanced up just then and her smile disappeared. She recognized Elizabeth. It was there in her eyes, but for some reason she pretended not to.
“Yes? May I help you?” she asked briskly.
“I’d like to see Mr. Blackstone.”
She reached for the phone. “Your name?”
“Elizabeth Blackstone.”
“Oh, Mrs. Blackstone…I didn’t know it was you.” The woman stared at Elizabeth in a way that was completely unnerving. A mixture of curiosity, disdain and…pity. Or perhaps that was only her imagination, Elizabeth decided.
“No reason you should. I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”
The woman stood and offered Elizabeth her hand. “I’m Nina Wilson. Paul’s—Mr. Blackstone’s assistant.”
Elizabeth reluctantly took her hand, wondering what had happened to Paul’s last assistant, Ariel. She’d been young and attractive, too, but happily married, with two kids. This woman’s left hand was bare, and judging by her trim, shapely figure, Elizabeth seriously doubted that she’d had children. At least, not recently.
“Is my husband in?” Why hadn’t she just called him Paul? Elizabeth wondered. Was she still trying to stake her claim? If so, how pathetic was that?
“I’ll buzz him and tell him you’re here.” Another emotion glimmered in the woman’s eyes, one Elizabeth couldn’t define this time.
“No, don’t bother,” Elizabeth said with a cool smile. “I’ll just pop in for a moment.”
She could feel the woman’s gaze on her as she walked away and she knew that if she turned, Nina Wilson would be staring at her.
Elizabeth knocked, then waited for Paul to say, “Come in,” before she opened the door and stepped inside. He was standing at the wall of windows, looking out at the mountains. Hands shoved in his pockets, he appeared to be a million miles away.
“Did Carter ever call back?” he asked absently.
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “I guess you were expecting someone else.”
At the sound of her voice he spun, a look of astonishment flashing across his handsome features.
It wasn’t fair, Elizabeth thought fleetingly. It wasn’t fair that after everything they’d been through, after all the grief and hurt and bitterness of the past eighteen months, he still had the power to take her breath away.
“Elizabeth! What are you…what brings you by here?”
He chose his words carefully around her, Elizabeth noticed. They’d both been walking on eggshells for so long, she wondered if either of them even knew how to relax anymore.
Coming over to stand behind his desk, his gray eyes raked her curiously. And no wonder. She hadn’t been in his office in over a year. Not since before the accident.
“I was out walking, taking advantage of the beautiful weather, and I found myself near your building,” she tried to say in a normal voice. But what was normal these days? “I decided to drop by and see if you have dinner plans.” Oh, God. She hadn’t meant it to sound that way, as if she were asking him out.
He lifted a brow as he regarded her across the expanse of the desk. For the longest moment he said nothing, and Elizabeth rushed to explain, “There’s…something I need to talk to you about.”
“I see.” His gaze flickered, but she didn’t have a clue what he was thinking. He seemed so remote, so cold. Nothing at all like the man who had barely let her out of bed on their honeymoon.
She didn’t want to remember their honeymoon now, though. Or the night they’d made Damon. Not with Nina Wilson sitting right outside Paul’s door.
“Shall I pick up something on my way home?” he finally asked.
“No, I’ll cook.” It would give her something to do for the rest of the afternoon.
“Are you sure?”
She hadn’t cooked in months, but Elizabeth found herself looking forward to the prospect. “I’ll enjoy puttering around the kitchen again.”
“In that case, what time?”
“Seven-thirty? Is that too early?” He often didn’t get home until well after ten. And even on those nights he didn’t go straight to bed but would sit in the living room with a drink, sometimes watching television, sometimes staring into the dark.
He nodded. “I’ll make sure to get away early. I’ll see you at seven-thirty.”
He came around the desk then to walk her to the door. His shoulder brushed against hers, and Elizabeth was surprised to find herself growing quite breathless again. She could smell his cologne, a rich, classy scent with seductive undertones. Yes, that was Paul. Rich, classy, seductive…
The dark gray pin-striped suit he had on was one of her favorites. But then, Paul could wear anything and look good. He was tall and slender, his body toned from the miles and miles of running he did every week. At thirty-six, he had the physique of a man a decade younger, but the lines around his mouth and eyes gave his face maturity.
Elizabeth had never met any man—and never would, she suspected—who compared in any way to Paul Blackstone.
At the door he gazed down at her, and it was almost as if…for a moment it seemed as if he might…
The door opened and Nina Wilson came in. “Boyd Carter is on line two—” She stopped short when she saw Elizabeth, and her expression became contrite. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you still had someone with you.”
“My wife was just leaving.”
My wife.
Elizabeth glanced at Nina, and for a moment, the woman’s gaze darkened with something that might have been fury. Then she seemed to shrug it off and smiled. “It was nice meeting you…Elizabeth.”
Score one for you, Elizabeth thought as she left the office. Because by using her first name, Nina Wilson had effectively put them on equal footing.
AS PAUL BLACKSTONE watched his wife leave the office, an uneasy premonition tickled along his backbone. So she wanted to have dinner with him tonight. What was that all about?
He wanted to believe that the overture was a good sign. Elizabeth might finally be emerging from the dark place she’d crawled into eighteen months ago. Somehow he didn’t think so, though.
He understood her despair. There had been times in the past year and a half when he’d wanted nothing more than to pull the covers over his head and hide from the world rather than wake up to face another day without his son. But life had to go on. He had a living to make. Mortgage payments, bills, responsibilities that didn’t stop because life no longer seemed worth living.
Eventually he’d been able to see the sunlight again. Dimmer, yes, but it was there if he looked hard enough. But Elizabeth…
Paul closed his eyes briefly. He very much feared that she would never find her way out of the darkness, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Trying to shake off a growing sense of doom, he took the call from Boyd Carter, but his mind wasn’t really on the conversation. When he finally hung up, he swiveled his chair around to stare out the windows. The sun was still shining, but the rainbow over Elliott Bay had long since faded. And in the distance he thought he saw rain clouds gathering over the snowy peak of Mount Olympus.
He let his mind retreat back to the visit from his wife. What did she want to talk to him about? Reconciliation? A fresh start?
Wishful thinking, he decided. He was fairly certain that she’d decided it was time to end the travesty that their marriage had become. And maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to let go. Maybe it had been time over a year ago when she’d sobbed in his arms that she didn’t want to go on. That without their son she had nothing to live for.
Paul understood her grief. He did. But, God, how that had hurt him. How it still hurt him that she hadn’t been able to turn to him for comfort, but instead had pushed him away.
But as devastated and grief-stricken as he’d been that night, the worst had been yet to come. A few days later he’d gotten home from work to find Elizabeth unconscious in their bed. Unable to rouse her, he’d called the paramedics, and they’d rushed her to the hospital, where the sleeping pills had been pumped from her stomach.
When she’d finally awakened a few hours later and seen Paul at her bedside, she’d slipped her hand from his and turned away.
