Nothing Personal (The Kincaids) Read online

“But you did end up with them.”

  “With my grandma, yes. Because my dad had a girlfriend—well, another girlfriend, but one who made fairly good money, and she wanted to move to Arizona, had an offer of a good job down there.”

  “And you didn’t want to go?”

  “It wasn’t just that.” She swallowed against the remembered shame of it. “She didn’t want me to come. But that was fine,” she hurried on, “because you’re right, I didn’t want to go, and I finally ended up with my grandmother in Chico, where I wanted to be anyway, and where the school was better, and there were more AP classes, which made it so I could finish college in three years, which was pretty important, I’ll tell you that. My grandpa had died by that time, and it was rough for my grandma, so the Social Security helped with that too, as long as it lasted, until I was eighteen. And once I finished business school, you know, I could help her out, and it’s all been good from there,” she finished in a rush. “The occasional Jell-O salad, you know, the occasional heart attack, but otherwise, happy endings.”

  She laughed a little, trembled with tension, or the release of it, she couldn’t tell which. “There you go. My life story. Talk about over-sharing. Cue the violins, huh?”

  He didn’t answer her right away. He couldn’t. He’d thought she’d twisted his heart before. Now it was as if she’d ripped it right out of his chest.

  “I don’t even know what to say to all that,” he said helplessly after a minute. “I’m at a total loss here.”

  “Hey,” she said, giving his hand a little tug, “it’s not that sad. I mean, look, here I am. Healthy, wealthy—well, reasonably, and getting better all the time—and hopefully wise. Lots of kids have a harder time than that.”

  “Oh, yeah? Not the way I see it.”

  “All you need is one person.” She lifted her other hand, the one he wasn’t gripping tight, and put up her index finger in its gray glove. “One. One person who thinks you’re special, who you know you can count on to love you no matter what. I had two, my grandma and my grandpa. Lots of kids have zero. You know how many kids are in foster care in California? How many kids ought to be? You know how happy any one of them would be to turn eighteen and still have a place to live like I did? Somebody to believe in them at all?”

  He was stunned at her passion. “That’s the reason for the scholarship, then,” he guessed.

  “It’s a little thing,” she said, “but it’s something I can do.”

  “So maybe that’s where my foundation should be focused, you think?” he asked. “Something like that?”

  She shrugged. “It should be wherever something’s happening that you can’t stand, I suppose. And that could be something entirely different. There are lots of sad stories in the world, lots of good causes. I’m not telling you which one matters most.”

  “And don’t you think we’d better turn around?” she asked a bit plaintively. “Because I can’t even feel my toes anymore.”

  Discretion

  “Well, good morning, Merry Sunshine.” Brandon looked pointedly at his Rolex when Alec walked into the break room in mid-afternoon. “We had a good weekend, did we?”

  “You know where I was.” Alec grabbed a Red Bull from the fridge and shifted his laptop case on his shoulder. “Rae’s grandmother. We just got back.”

  “How’s Dixie doing?” That was Joe, veering off on his way across the floor at sight of Alec and coming in to join them.

  “Good as she could be.” Alec popped the top on his drink and took a long swallow. It had been a fairly eventful day, one way and another, and he had a lot of catching up to do before he left tonight. “She went home from the hospital around noon today, and Rae’s got somebody in to take care of her while she rehabs.”

  “Tough,” Joe said. “On Rae, I mean.”

  “Yeah. It was.”

  “Uh-huh.” Brandon took another swig of his own coffee. “Good of you to take her up there and hold her hand. You trying to tell us you’re not hitting that?”

  “Watch it,” Alec warned, trying to keep his temper from flaring. Deny, deny, deny. “Rae’s been with her sick grandmother, and I’ve been writing code in a waiting room. So watch it.”

  He wanted to drop it, so he dropped it. “You get what I sent yesterday?” he asked Joe.

  Joe nodded. “Looks good. I got Michael going on it this morning.”

  And then Rae walked into the room, and Alec hoped she hadn’t heard what Brandon had said.

  He’d waited at her house for her to get changed, looked around her pretty living room in surprise, then driven down the hill with her, parked at his place. Had thought about changing himself, decided not to bother, and was still in his jeans and flannel shirt.

  Not her, though. Her hair was up in that twist again, the sexy, snug top and jeans replaced by her brown and cream outfit. All covered up, and still looking so good to him. He did his best not to let his gaze linger, tried to remember what he’d been talking about.

  “Hi, guys,” she said, passing Alec without a blink and pulling the milk out of the fridge, pouring it into her mug and popping it into the microwave. “Any disasters during my unexpected vacation?”

  “No,” Joe said. “Alec says your grandma’s doing better. Glad to hear it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Nice to have Alec’s company, too,” Brandon said. “In that waiting room and all.”

  “Yes,” she said, punching the button on the coffee machine. “It was.”

  Brandon stared at Alec accusingly as soon as she’d left the room again. “You lie like a dog.”

  “You stay with your folks?” Joe asked, ignoring Brandon’s comment.

  Alec forced himself to relax. “Yeah. Saw Alyssa for a little while too. She was up for the weekend, getting over a breakup.”

  “She OK?”

  “Oh, yeah. Liss is a survivor, you know that. She was seeing a surgeon, someone she met on a sales call. He told her he’d just gotten through a rough divorce, hurting, scared to risk his heart. You know, the usual B.S.”

  “And he wasn’t,” Joe guessed.

  “Nope. She ran into him on the Santa Monica Pier. With his wife.” Alec sketched a half-circle out from his stomach. “About eight months’ worth of not-divorced.”

  “Ouch,” Brandon laughed. “That’s gotta be awkward. What are the odds?”

  Alec kept his focus on Joe. “He showed up at her place a couple hours later to ‘explain,’ can you believe it? Clearly didn’t bother to get to know her very well during their brief romance, because you know Liss has a fairly good left hook.”

  That brought a satisfied smile to Joe’s face. “He ran into a door, huh?”

  “Yup.” Alec tossed off the last of the Red Bull. “Gabe and I taught her well. Wonder how he explained that one at home. She was icing that hand all day Saturday.” He tossed the can into the recycling. “Back to work. Come tell me what I’ve missed, Joe, when you get a chance.”

  “I’ll come right now,” Joe said, and they left the room together, leaving Brandon with his coffee. And all his speculation, Alec hoped, unanswered.

  Flowers and Chocolate

  Desiree heard the voices outside, recognized Alec’s. Here to pick her up, right on time, for their first big date. He’d taken her for a quick dinner after work on Wednesday, and then to his apartment for the night, which had all been, well, great. But, he’d told her, not good enough.

  “I meant what I said,” he’d told her very early Thursday morning when he was dropping her back at her house. “I want a romance. Tomorrow night, it’s the real deal.”

  So here they were. Really, truly dating. And it was apparent that however well they might succeed in being discreet in the office, here at home, their cover had already been blown.

  She unwound herself from her spot on the couch and stepped out through the French doors to find Alec, as she’d surmised, having a cozy chat with Javier across the hedge in the last dim glow of twilight.

  “Hi,” Alec
said with a smile that cut right through the faint illumination provided by her porch light as he took in her clingy chestnut-brown knit dress, the shoulder bared by its asymmetrical neckline, her delicate heels. Her hot-date clothes, purchased just for tonight, because it had been so long since she’d had a hot date. “We were just talking about you.”

  “I’ll bet.” She eyed his stylishly cut black jacket and slacks, his usual trim white shirt. His own hot-date clothes, which she was sure he’d had more than a few occasions to use, but that was all right, because he looked so good in them. And just as a bonus, he had a satisfyingly large tissue-wrapped cone in his hand. “Did you bring me something?”

  “I did.” He held it out to her. “I almost gave them to Javier after all the nice things he said about the show, but I decided to save them for you.”

  “Mmm. Good of you.” She wrapped her hands around the tissue paper, held the bouquet to her face and filled her nose with the sweet scent. “They smell wonderful. What are they? I can’t see that well.”

  “Peonies,” he said, and she could see the warmth in his eyes just fine. “Beautiful, just like you.”

  She looked across at Javier, saw his eyes go wide, the mouthed “Wow,” and smiled happily back at him.

  “Well, thank you,” she told Alec. “For both. The flowers, and the compliment.”

  “That was good,” Javier told him. “You’re wasted on that show. Your brother got all the best lines.”

  “Yeah, but Alec took his shirt off more,” Desiree pointed out loyally.

  “Hmm. Good point,” Javier conceded. “Tell you what, I’ll watch till the end, then I’ll let you know who was hotter.”

  Alec laughed. “I’ll tell Gabe the challenge is on.”

  “So,” Javier said. “What I really want to know is, did they get creative with the editing, or did you actually hate Scott as much as they’re making it look?”

  “No. I actually hated him more. At the point where you are now in the show, I was pretty much consumed by fantasies of getting some excuse to take him out.”

  “So did you?” Javier probed.

  Alec smiled. “You’ll have to watch and find out, won’t you?”

  Javier sighed. “Spoilsport.”

  “Hey,” Alec pointed out, “I signed a contract. Even Desiree doesn’t know.”

  “Oh, even Desiree, huh? All righty, then.” She could see Javier storing that nugget up.

  “And I’ve got to take this lady out to dinner,” Alec said. “We have a reservation, and anyway, she gets cranky when she’s hungry. Good to meet you.” He reached across the hedge and shook Javier’s hand. “Thanks for watching. Hope you keep tuning in. ”

  “Oh, I’ll be watching,” Javier said. “Don’t you worry.” He looked at Desiree. “Have a nice dinner, baby girl. And you were right, by the way. Absolutely habanero.”

  “I’m not even going to ask,” Alec said when she’d taken him inside. “Leaving that right there on the table.”

  She laughed. “Probably best. I’m going to have some interesting questions to answer pretty soon. Good thing for you that I don’t kiss and tell.”

  She stretched to open the big cabinet above the fridge, was about to grab her stepstool from its recess, then realized she didn’t have to. “Could you get down that big vase for me? Can you reach it?”

  “Sure.” He pulled it down with ease, handed it to her. “Benefits of a tall lover.”

  She had to smile at him, then. “Is that what you are? My lover?”

  “I sure hope so.”

  She set bouquet and vase down on the counter, reached for him. “Then I think you’d better kiss me quick here, don’t you?”

  “No,” he said, wrapping his arms around her lower back and pulling her close. “I think I’d better kiss you slow.”

  “Flowers,” she said a few minutes later. “Water.”

  “Mmm.” He pulled her curls aside, kissed the back of her neck, just under the hairline. “Got to get those flowers into the water.”

  She stepped back with reluctance, and a laugh, too. “Alec. I do. And I thought you said we had a reservation.”

  “Not for another half hour. I just wanted to get you alone.”

  She was unwrapping the flowers. “Oh. These are gorgeous. You shouldn’t have. ” Eight huge, drooping heads in varied shades of pink, their lush clouds of petals wafting gentle fragrance, tendrils of green ivy twining between the blooms.

  “I thought they’d match your house,” he said. “Your secret feminine side, which, in case I haven’t mentioned it, is one of my very favorite sides of you, though it has some fairly strong competition.”

  She let herself feel the pleasure of that as she ran the water, added the little packet of flower preservative, cut the stem ends carefully off, and arranged the blooms lovingly. Swept tissue, ribbon, and stem ends into the kitchen trash and wiped down the counter, then set the vase in the middle of her round oak dining table and stood back.

  “Gorgeous,” she said again. “Thank you.” And she had to give him another quick kiss, just to show him how much she liked them.

  “Well, I was kind of hoping that I’d get to see your bedroom tonight,” he said. “So I decided I’d better pull out all the stops.”

  “Oh, are we going someplace romantic?” How much better could he make this?

  “I hope you think so.” He was smiling again. “And I chose someplace we could walk to, so I can hold your hand.”

  I want to bring you flowers. I want to hold your hand. I want to sweep you off your feet.

  “But how about showing me that bedroom now?” he suggested. “Give me a little inspiration for the evening, make sure I work hard enough to charm you.”

  “Reservation,” she reminded him.

  “I said see it,” he protested. “I didn’t say use it. Yet.”

  But when he saw it, he wasn’t so sure. The crystal chandelier wall sconces were pretty, and so were the pale green walls, the glossy white trim, the soft, thick cream-colored rug with its pattern of roses around the border that stood beside the bed. It was all soft and warm and feminine, and made him want to stay. But the bed made him want even more.

  “That’s a fairly good bed,” he told her.

  “It’s my dream bed. I bought it last year after I got my bonus. It reminds me of sleeping in the clouds.” She laughed. “That’s pretty fanciful, but it does.”

  “I can see that.” The puffy white comforter and pillows, yes. “But you know, as a guy of the male persuasion, it kind of sends a different message.”

  “Oh, yeah? What message is that?”

  He gestured at the drift of white net curtains at each corner of the four-poster. “Well, I can’t speak for every guy out there, but to me . . . I look at those curtain things, one in every corner, conveniently right there at the bedposts, and I think . . .”

  “Wait a minute,” she said, and her mouth was hanging open a little. “You look at my pretty bed, and you immediately think bondage?”

  “Well, yeah,” he admitted. “I do. I’m a guy.”

  That forced another laugh from her. “It’s like a whole different world. But check this out.” She flipped off the light switch—sitting inside a curvy porcelain switchplate, of course, painted with more roses and edged in gilt, of course—leaving them in the dark. But only for a moment, because she was doing something at her bedside table now, and the white net was suddenly illuminated with dozens of tiny lights casting a glow through the fabric.

  “You have a light-up bed,” he said slowly.

  “I do. Isn’t it pretty?”

  “It is. And I’ve got exactly what I wanted. Inspiration. Let’s go out to dinner.”

  He took her walking up the rest of the Filbert Steps, all the way to the top of Telegraph Hill, down the other side along the curving path. Another five minutes past stately buildings from the beginning of the last century, angular structures from more recent times, until they reached the lighted window, the hanging sign outl
ined in gilt that announced the tiny French restaurant tucked into a block of retail shops, more apartments rising above them in this densely populated old neighborhood.

  Soft lights and candles, white tablecloths and red roses, the corner table he’d specified, Vivaldi playing softly in the background. And watching Desiree eat. The way her eyes closed when she tasted the first mouthful of perfectly fried sole, her sigh as she sipped from the glass of white wine the waiter had just refilled from the bottle set in its ice-filled gondola. It was all pure pleasure, and his own meal wasn’t bad either.

  “Now for the best part, at least the best part here,” he told her when their plates had been whisked away, thick black decaffeinated coffee had been set in front of them in white porcelain cups. “Dessert.”

  “Oh,” she sighed. “I don’t think I can. Not if you don’t want me to fall asleep on you. All that food, and the wine . . .”

  “Just taste it,” he coaxed. “Because here it comes.”

  “What? How . . .”

  “I ordered it ahead of time,” he explained. “Because it takes a while to prepare.”

  The waiter appeared bearing a dessert plate, in its center the white ribbed ramekin with its crusty brown dome, set it down with a flourish. A dollop of vanilla bean crème fraiche in the center of the rich concoction, a sprig of mint garnishing the plate, just because it looked nice.

  “Et voila,” the waiter said, standing back. “Le soufflé au chocolat.”

  “Two spoons,” Alec pointed out helpfully, holding up his own dessert spoon. “Help me out here, Desiree. You wouldn’t want me to fall asleep.”

  “I don’t think I can help myself,” she admitted. “I’ve never had chocolate soufflé.”

  And, again, her eyes drifted shut as she held the first spoonful in her mouth, let the chocolate melt over her tongue, and he watched her loving it, and loved watching.

  He walked her home, held her hand, kissed her in the light of a streetlamp at the very top of Telegraph Hill, the golden shaft of Coit Tower behind them, the lights of the City spread out beneath them, the suspension cables of the Bay Bridge rising and falling in a graceful arc, a silver necklace across the darkness of the Bay.