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Of course she was the only one who thought so at the time, but the three of them had put the issue behind them.
“We thought, with the baby arriving soon, it would be the perfect time to reestablish ourselves as a family,” Thomas continued.
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve decided to renew our vows on Christmas Eve. Nothing huge. Just family and a few close friends.”
“That sounds…lovely.” Susan hated the tiny knot of jealousy that twisted in her midsection. Her brother had fought hard for his life and family; a proper sister wouldn’t envy his happiness.
Especially when his voice hummed with a bashful excitement. “Maddie’s going to be the maid of honor,” he said. “She’ll be heartbroken if her favorite aunt isn’t there.”
“I’d be heartbroken if I missed seeing her,” Susan replied, the knot easing slightly. The prospect of seeing her young niece dressed like a princess was too charming to resist.
“So you’ll be there?”
“Of course.” It wasn’t like she had Christmas Eve plans.
“Great. I’ll let Rosalind know. The other reason I called…” On the other end of the line, Susan heard the clink of a teacup. “I’m going to need you and Linus to host the Collier party again this year. I promised Rosalind I would take time off when the baby was born so we could bond as a family.”
Susan groaned. Not again. Collier’s had been holding a company Christmas party for its employees ever since the days of Queen Victoria. What was once a show of largesse toward the workers had morphed into a fancy cocktail party hosted by the CEO. Last year, Thomas had begged off because of Rosalind’s amnesia, leaving her and Linus to play the benevolent owners.
“Can’t Linus host by himself?” Everyone loved Linus.
“I’d prefer both of you to be there. Especially since Linus has been…”
“Unreliable?” She thought of how he’d left her in the lurch last night.
“Distracted,” Thomas replied. There was a pause, during which she imagined him studying his cup of tea while he thought of the right words. “Look, I know the party’s not your favorite event…”
“Try least favorite,” Susan corrected. The whole affair was an exercise in awkwardness for everyone involved. Smiling and making small talk with people like Ginger and Courtney. It’d be like the wedding times ten. “I was actually thinking of staying home this year…”
“You can’t. You’re a Collier. It wouldn’t look right.”
“I doubt people will care—they’re more interested in the free booze.”
“Susan…”
“Fine.” She noticed he hadn’t corrected her. “I’ll host the party.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything else or can I go back to dying now?” Her head was demanding coffee and aspirin before it could handle any more conversation.
“Die away,” her brother replied.
They said their goodbyes, and Susan tossed her phone on the cushion next to her. Five minutes, she thought as her eyes fluttered closed and her body fell sideways. Five minutes and she’d head to the kitchen for caffeine.
The phone rang again, the shrillness next to her ear making her wince. She fumbled for it without opening her eyes. “What did you forget?”
“Nothing that I know of,” said an unfamiliar voice. Deep and with a strong northern twang, it caused tingles to trip up her spine. “I was calling to see how your head felt this morning.”
How did this stranger know she had a killer hangover? “Who is this?” Susan pushed herself into a seated position—again.
“Lewis Matolo. The bloke who brought you home, remember?”
Remember? She was hoping to forget. Nearly bursting into tears, tripping over her own two feet. She’d worked hard her entire adult life to project an image of togetherness and control to the outside world…and Lewis Matolo had seen none of that.
She also remembered him being incredibly attractive. If you were into the cocky, athletic sort.
“How did you get my number?”
“I texted Hank and Maria and asked them.”
“You bothered them on their honeymoon.” Her heart actually fluttered at the idea. Why on earth would he go to that much trouble to track her down? Surely, not simply to check on her well-being.
“Don’t worry. They were killing time at Heathrow waiting for their boarding call. I’m glad to see you made it to your apartment safely. No tripping up the stairs?”
Thankfully, he couldn’t see how warm her face was. “I told you, the sidewalk was slippery from the cold weather,” she said.
“Uh-huh.” It was clear from the amusement in his voice that he hadn’t bought the excuse then and he still wasn’t buying it now. Susan blushed a little deeper.
“Since you didn’t fall and break your neck,” he continued, “how would you feel about lunch?”
“Lunch? With you?” A dumb question, she knew, but he’d caught her off guard. She needed a reality check before her heart fluttered again. Why would someone like him be asking her out?
“No, with Prince William. I have a…business proposition to run by you.”
How stupid of her. Of course he would be calling about business. Doing her best to hold back a sigh, she said, “New business ideas are my brother Thomas’s bailiwick. You’re better off calling him directly. I don’t get involved in that end.”
“You misunderstand. This isn’t about Collier’s. It’s about… Let me just say I think I have an idea that might benefit us both.”
Beneficial to her but didn’t involve Collier’s? He had her attention. “Go on?”
“I don’t suppose you’ve read Lorianne’s blog today?”
Lorianne Around London was the UK’s most popular gossip website. A treasure trove of royal, political and celebrity gossip, the blog was influential and widely read, even by those who claimed they didn’t. “The only thing I’ve seen today is the inside of my eyelids. Why?”
“You might want to check it out on your way to the restaurant,” Lewis replied. “There’s a “Blind Item” you might find interesting. Now, are we on for lunch?”
Susan ran a hand through her curls. Her hair was a stiff mess from being retro-styled and she still had a splitting headache. Without checking a mirror, she knew she looked like a plump, raccoon-eyed nightmare. Hardly suitable for public viewing.
On the other hand, Lewis’s offer intrigued her foggy brain. A business venture that benefitted her, didn’t involve Collier’s and was somehow connected to a “Blind Item” in Lorianne Around London? How could she resist?
“Where and when?” she asked.
The Christmas tree next to the fountain was decorated with pairs of miniature shoes. At night, it was lit with hundreds of rainbow-colored lights, but at midday all you could see were mini sneakers and stilettos. It was supposed to be making an artistic and social commentary, but damn if Lewis could figure it out. Walk a mile in another’s shoes, maybe? Guess he wasn’t sophisticated enough because he preferred the lights.
Still frowning, he turned his attention back to the restaurant. It was ten minutes past their agreed-upon time. Susan didn’t strike him as the kind of person who ran late. He’d done a little digging on her when he’d texted Hank and Maria. If anything, Susan was the kind of person who arrived early and grew annoyed when you didn’t too. She hadn’t been joking last night when she said she wasn’t very well liked at her company. In fact, Maria had used a very specific word to describe her, and for a second Lewis wondered if his plan was a good idea.
He caught the eye of a waiter who immediately approached the table. “Can I get another sparkling water?” he asked.
The young man nodded. “Of course. Right away.”
As the man walked away, Lewis noticed a handful of diners looking in his direction. The Mayfair restaurant was too posh a location for autograph seekers. The people who dined here were supposed to be nonchalant about dining with celebrities. That didn’t mean they weren’t above sneaking a peek when one was in their midst, however.
When he was a kid, places like this were a foreign country. They were for people who lived on the other side of the city, who drove nice cars and whose kids always had new clothes. They definitely weren’t for nobodies who bounced from foster home to foster home. Sometimes he pinched himself that he was really able to walk into a restaurant like this one and order whatever he wanted. Sometimes he masked his anxiety with extreme cockiness.
Sometimes—most times, in the past—he’d drunk to keep from feeling exposed.
It’s all right; you belong here.
For how long though? Celebrity was a fleeting thing. Washed-up athletes were a dime a dozen. If he couldn’t get a broadcast job, what would he do? Football was the only world he knew. The sport defined him. Made him matter. Made him somebody.
It’s your reputation, Lewis. That’s how his agent had put it after telling him he’d lost the BBC commentator job. People are afraid you’re going to pull one of your antics again. No one wants to risk waking up to see their studio analyst double-fisting bottles of Cristal on the front page.
In other words, he needed to prove to the world he had shed his Champagne Lewis persona for good. He’d been trying to deliver that message for the past nine months, but karma kept tripping him up. Like last night. He was surprised that the drink-tossing incident hadn’t made it onto Lorianne’s blog. The woman had spies everywhere.
Reading today’s item, however, made him realize a few things. First, that he was damn lucky, and second, that if he wanted the world to know he was a changed man, he needed to do more than simply give up drinking and stay home. He needed to give the public proof, something splashy, that would convey the message for him.
The idea as to how had hit him like a jolt this morning. It was crazy, but it was worth a shot.
Now he needed his proposed partner in crime to appear.
He was about to turn his awareness back to the window when a flash of blue caught his attention. Finally. Susan Collier cut through the dining room, her peacock blue jacket popping amid the room’s gold-and-green garlands. She wore a pair of oversize sunglasses covering her face and moved like a person who didn’t have a moment to spare. Quite a different appearance from the soft, hazy woman who’d tripped her way up her front stairs the night before.
“Sorry I’m late. We got stuck in traffic.”
Lewis saw it for the excuse it was. He also always seemed to have problems with the traffic on days he was hungover. “No problem. I’ve been sitting hear enjoying the view. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.”
“It should. They started decorating the day after Halloween.”
She looked down at the bench he sat on. Although the alcove table could accommodate up to six people, it had been set for intimacy. This meant the only seating was the velvet bench that curved along the wall. She had no choice but to slide to the middle so they could sit side by side. “Interesting choice of table,” she remarked.
“I like sitting by the window.” He moved over to make room. Not too much room though. He wanted to sit next to her. That was the point.
“Don’t suppose you read Lorianne’s site,” he said when she’d settled in—her sunglasses remaining in place.
“You mean ‘Blind Item’ number five? How could I resist? You had me intrigued.” Reaching into her shoulder bag, she pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It was a printout of Lorianne’s blog.
This A-plus bad-boy former athlete with the fancy name was seen playing the gentleman for a member of one of London’s most established families last night. He walked the lady to the door and didn’t stay the night. Fluke? Or has he washed his hands of his wild ways?
She folded the paper in half again. “Those are some of the lamest clues I’ve ever seen. ‘Fancy name’ for Champagne Lewis? ‘Washed his hands’ for Collier’s Soap? Was this your doing?”
“I wish. Our driver must have given her the tip. Lorianne’s known for her network. He must have texted her after he dropped us off and Lorianne shoved it in her column.” That was the beauty of the internet. In the old days, the public would have had to wait another twenty-four hours for the news item to go public.
“Interesting, don’t you think?” he asked.
“How so?” Susan replied.
“Good afternoon. Glad you could join us.” It was their waiter, returning with Lewis’s sparkling water. “Can I get you anything? A cocktail perhaps?”
“The lady will have a Bloody Mary.” Lewis ignored the way Susan’s head spun around to stare at him.
“A glass of water will be fine,” she told the waiter, in a no-nonsense tone.
“And the Bloody Mary.”
The poor young man looked from Lewis to Susan and back, clearly unsure who he should listen to. “She’ll have water and a Bloody Mary,” Lewis told him. He leaned in so he could lower his voice. “Hair of the dog, Trust me.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You’ll be nursing that headache of yours all day.” A drink wouldn’t ease the pain of her throbbing head necessarily, but in his experience, it helped more often than not. “I’m the expert, remember?”
“Fine.” She told the waiter to bring her both. “If alcohol is such a cure-all, why aren’t you having any?” she asked once the waiter had gone.
“Simple. I’m not hungover. Plus, I don’t drink. Anymore,” he added when she opened her mouth.
“You don’t? Since when?”
Since he’d woken up with one too many hangovers and realized what a mess he’d made of his career, that’s when. “Been nearly nine months now.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize.”
“Few people do.” And those who did, didn’t believe it would stick. “I decided last spring it was time to get my act together. Turn over a new leaf, as it were.”
“How’s the new leaf working out for you?”
“There’s been a few bumps.” Like last night. “Turns out being sober is only half the battle. Dealing with the mess you left behind…”
“I’m guessing last night was a bump.”
“For both of us, wouldn’t you say?” He took a sip of water. “Are you going to wear those glasses throughout lunch?” It was impossible to gauge her expression when it was hidden by those big black lenses. “Feel like I’m having lunch with a Russian spy.” Or a woman embarrassed to be with him.
Although her lips pulled into a smirk, she removed the glasses. “Satisfied?” she asked.
Her excess from the night before revealed itself in a pair of dark circles that washed the color from her face. Her eyes’ warm copper center was still visible though. Lewis had wondered if he’d imagined the unusual color. He hadn’t. He hadn’t imagined the intelligence in her eyes either.
“So…” She dropped her gaze, blocking his view once more. “You said you had a business proposition for me.”
“Yes.” Apparently they were going to get right down to business. Lewis could deal with that. “Now that I’ve retired, I’m hoping to get into broadcasting but no one wants to give me so much as a meeting. They’re all afraid to take a risk.”
“No offense, but can you blame them?”
“Maybe once upon a time, but I’m not the same guy I was nine months ago. I’ve grown up, and if they gave me a shot, they would see that I know my stuff. I’d be damned good.”
He shifted in his seat so he could look her straight on. “It’s maddening. They won’t even meet with me. It’s as though the world has slotted me into a role and now I’m stuck in it for life. Whether it fits or not.”
“Everyone thinks they know you,” she said in soft voice. She was folding and unfolding her glasses with great thoughtfulness.
