Valentine's Dream. Carmen Green
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with one another as invariably happened. The caterers then served the first course, offering each guest a choice of red or white wine with dinner. The noise dropped to a low hum, and Grace breathed a sign of relief. She’d managed to keep things moving through half the evening without any serious mishap or griping by the sponsors.
Part of Grace went into a new alert mode as she took in the seated guests. She resisted the urge to try and identify any one person. Ten minutes into the first course, she signaled for the attention of a technician, waiting discreetly behind a screen with the audio-visual equipment to make sure the microphones were ready for use.
At one of three main tables where the corporate higher-ups and their wives were prominently seated, one man suddenly stood up. Grace automatically turned her attention to him. The lights were very low, and the room was softly illuminated by cleverly designed centerpiece candles on each table. She could not see his features clearly but didn’t need to. She experienced instant recognition and a feeling that was akin to fight or flight. Grace was quickly able to overcome the surprise factor and had time to compose herself before she heard him call out her name.
Someone else did the same from several feet away. Grace turned around as the catering supervisor approached to request instructions on what to do with the leftover food and the extra bottles of liquor. When she’d finished conversing with him, she pivoted slowly and found herself face-to-face with the man who’d called from across the dinner hall.
She lost her sense of time and place. She remained controlled, but her smile was stiff, her hands cold. She rested her gazed upon him, cold and distant.
His dark eyes were watchful and discerning. His wide mouth showed signs of a smile. His brows were black and finely arched over discerning eyes that watched her through thin, wireless glasses that were almost undetectable until he was right in front of her. His skin was a rich earth brown, and his face was clean-shaven, with masculine contours and angles. Grace kept her gaze on his face but avoided direct eye contact. Finally, in self-defense, she resurrected those impressions she’d formed of him at their first meeting, some eight years ago. She held those memories up like an invisible shield, as if he was somehow a danger to her.
He tucked his chin as he thoughtfully considered her. “Why do I get the feeling you were trying to avoid me?”
His voice was confident. Although strong and deep, Grace knew that it could also be very quiet, a steadying force. Ignoring his astute observation, however, she hid her embarrassment behind a smile.
“Carter. My goodness. What are you doing here?”
“First thing’s first,” he said. “How about a proper hello?”
Grace started sharply, thinking he was going to embrace her right there in the hall. Instead, he merely bent forward to kiss her on a cheek.
“I know you’re working, but I don’t think that was too out of line.”
She stood stiffly at his greeting, feeling the warm imprint of his lips on her skin, lips that momentarily quickened her breathing. “It doesn’t matter. By tomorrow someone will ask me, ‘who was that man?’”
“And your answer?” he baited smoothly.
“I’ll say you’re a family friend whom I wasn’t expecting to see,” she said indifferently. She could tell that he was monitoring her reaction to him. “But to get back to my question—”
Carter stretched his arms out to the sides so that she might see how he was dressed. “I was invited. I’m one of the guests.”
Grace gave him a quick up and down glance. She’d seen him in a tuxedo before. He did it justice, appearing not only urbane and sophisticated, but with an air of authority that could be intimidating. It had taken her a while to learn he could be otherwise.
“A guest? You mean you flew in from Chicago just for the evening?”
He slipped his hands into the pockets of his formal slacks. “More than just an evening. Actually, I’m in New York for about ten days to take care of business.”
“Really. Where are you staying?” She couldn’t help asking.
“Through my company, I have guest privileges at a midtown club.” He took a moment to study her features and said quietly, “I thought of calling to let you know I would be in.”
“Checking up on me?” Grace shook her head. “You don’t have to do that. I’m doing fine, and I know you’re busy. You do have a life that has nothing to do with Benson and his family. And he’s been gone three years.”
He nodded, considering her words. “I know that. But, like you just said, I am a family friend. I’d like to stay in touch. I’d like to—”
Grace put her hand out to stop him, taking a deep breath. “Look...you’re here for a party. I can’t keep you standing here, and I’m supposed to be working. Please, go back inside and finish dinner. I’ve got things to take care of....”
“You’re right. I don’t want you to get in trouble on my account.” Carter put his hand around her elbow for a brief moment, squeezing it before releasing her. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Throughout the rest of the evening, Grace found herself constantly distracted and a little off balance owing not only to Carter Morrison’s sudden appearance, but also to the one unsettling memory she’d retained from their last encounter. It had been at the memorial service for her late husband, Benson.
Grace now moved briskly, not giving herself any more time to let her mind or attention slip into reflection, or to process the fact that Carter was not only in New York, but would be here for nearly two weeks. She oversaw the timely cleanup and dismantling of the bar. She accepted the praise of one of the corporate honchos, who was pleased with the level of service from her staff. Of course, Grace had to put his comments in perspective, given the distinct possibility that he may have had too much to drink, or was expecting her institution to concede another favor.
But for the rest of the night, there was no denying that a part of her was absorbed by the presentations, speeches, laughter and applause that flowed out from the guests dining in the rotunda. She was surprised when Carter was introduced to accept an award. She stood listening to his humorous acceptance speech, which drew laughter and applause. Also evident was the effortless way Carter showed himself as someone who could be trusted. Nonetheless, later, as the guests trickled out of the rotunda after dinner, she made a point of being someplace else.
After nearly everyone had left, one of the female guards approached Grace as she talked over the evening with her coworker, Brian. The guard was holding a square glass vase with an exotic arrangement of hothouse flowers. They had been part of the decoration for the night.
“I saved this for you, Ms. Haley,” said the chubby woman as she smiled at Grace.
“Carmen, you know we’re supposed to leave everything for the night crew to clean up.”
Carmen made a dismissive face. “Why should they get everything? You know they are not going to throw out these beautiful flowers and the vase. They’re going to take ’em home. The way I figure, it’s like taking the centerpiece home when you go to a wedding reception, right?”
Grace laughed but still didn’t accept the arrangement being held out to her. “Why don’t you keep them? I’ll pretend you didn’t say anything to me about it.”
“I already got one,” Carmen said conspiratorially.
“Carmen, I really don’t think I should. How will it look if the events coordinator for the society is caught sneaking off with the floral arrangements? Even if it were okay, I can’t take those home with me on the train.”
“Tell you what. Don’t worry about it, okay? If you come into your office in the morning, and there happens to be this big thing of flowers on your desk, you can act surprised and say you have a secret admirer or something like that.”
“Whatever.” Grace gave in with a grin as