The All-Star Antes Up
Page 53
As he was explaining his strategy, he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket, indicating a missed call and voice message. As they discussed and refined the counterattack, impatience swelled in his chest. He was sure the message was from Miranda, because the flowers must have arrived by now.
Finally, the coach released them from the film session, and Luke ducked into an empty office to check his phone. Sure enough, Miranda’s number came up. He punched in the code to check his messages. As he listened to her regretful recording, anticipation turned to fury. That scumbag Spindle was involved in this somehow.
He gave the metal leg of the desk a good, solid kick before he dialed Miranda’s number.
“Luke, thank you so much for the sunflowers,” she said before he could speak. “I feel like I’m in Arles with Van Gogh.”
He could hear both sincerity and constraint in her voice. “What’s the problem with work? I’ll fix it with your boss.”
There was a beat of silence before she said, “It’s a scheduling issue. It can’t be fixed.”
“Look, I want to see you tonight.” The truth of that surprised him. “I’ll work around your schedule.”
Another moment of hesitation before she sighed into the phone. “One of the tabloids published a photo of us holding hands at the museum, and that’s creating some, um, ill will here.”
He was right about Spindle. He’d like to unleash Terrance Fairley on the head concierge. “If I guarantee that no one will see us together, would that work for you?”
“How could you do that?” There was a gratifying note of longing in her voice.
“I already have a room reserved at the Ritz-Carlton at Battery Park.” He needed to explain that. “Because of Trevor. There’s a private entrance we can use.” He wasn’t going to mention that he’d used it before for similar reasons. “We’ll get room service. No photos.”
“That’s a lot of trouble to go to.”
He could hear no in her voice, so he laid on the drawl. “You’re worth it, sugar. Let me send a car to pick you up at seven. Just an anonymous black sedan. No one will be the wiser.”
“I . . . well . . . thank you,” she finally said after a pause so long he thought he’d lost her. “That would be nice.”
He pumped his fist. “The car will bring you right to the entrance, and my driver will escort you from there. That eliminates the chance of anyone seeing us together.”
“I appreciate how careful you’re being,” she said. “And I feel ridiculous about it.”
“It’s not your problem, it’s mine. Being in the spotlight is not always comfortable for the people around me, so I’ve found ways to dodge it.” He’d also learned to avoid the people who basked in the light reflected from him. Miranda wasn’t one of them. He let anticipation vibrate in his voice. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Luke disconnected and glanced at his watch. He was going to be late for his session with his trainer. Stan would give him an earful, but Luke didn’t care. He could block out the abuse as long as he had Miranda to focus on.
A few hours later, Luke changed positions on the seat of the limousine for the third time, trying to ease the soreness his session with Stan had induced. His trainer assured Luke he would feel fine in the morning if he got a good night’s rest. But rest wasn’t on Luke’s agenda, so he had a couple of ice packs strapped to his ribs, and he had swallowed a few Aleve capsules before he left the Empire Center. That would do for now. Once Miranda arrived, he’d forget all about his pain.
An alert pinged on his phone. That was his assistant’s reminder that Luke needed to call Nathan Trainor about the gala.
He dialed the CEO’s cell number. This time Trainor answered.
“Trainor, I need a favor,” Luke said. “I got talked into buying a table at a charity dinner tomorrow night, and I need to fill it up. Miller’s coming, so I’m asking you to come, too. And bring a date.” He smiled.
“Miller put you up to this.” The CEO hadn’t gotten where he was by being stupid.
But Luke hadn’t, either. “Miller? No, he’s just willing to go along with it for a good cause. We’re raising money for foster kids in the New York metro area.”
“That’s not what I meant. He wants to meet my date.”
“Hell, based on what Miller says, I want to meet her,” Luke said. “You work fast, man.”
“As I told him yesterday, the meeting is premature.” Trainor’s voice was tight. “And I have no intention of exposing her to Miller’s curiosity.”
Definitely not stupid, but protective. “Too bad,” Luke said. “The silent auction has some damn nice jewelry, and all the proceeds go to the kids.”
Silence instead of refusal. That was a good sign, so Luke sank the hook in further. “There’s a listing of the items online. I’ll text you the link.”
“Did you donate a signed football?” the CEO asked.
Luke could tell Trainor was still on the fence, so he injected an element of competition. “With four tickets on the fifty-yard line. Miller kicked in an entire set of autographed Julian Best books, along with a prop from the last movie.”
Trainor laughed at that. “Put me down for a TE-Gen10 3-D printer.”
Luke had him now. “Sounds high-tech. So you’ll come.”
“I’m sure I’ll regret it, but I’ll ask Chloe if she’d like to attend.”
Finally, the coach released them from the film session, and Luke ducked into an empty office to check his phone. Sure enough, Miranda’s number came up. He punched in the code to check his messages. As he listened to her regretful recording, anticipation turned to fury. That scumbag Spindle was involved in this somehow.
He gave the metal leg of the desk a good, solid kick before he dialed Miranda’s number.
“Luke, thank you so much for the sunflowers,” she said before he could speak. “I feel like I’m in Arles with Van Gogh.”
He could hear both sincerity and constraint in her voice. “What’s the problem with work? I’ll fix it with your boss.”
There was a beat of silence before she said, “It’s a scheduling issue. It can’t be fixed.”
“Look, I want to see you tonight.” The truth of that surprised him. “I’ll work around your schedule.”
Another moment of hesitation before she sighed into the phone. “One of the tabloids published a photo of us holding hands at the museum, and that’s creating some, um, ill will here.”
He was right about Spindle. He’d like to unleash Terrance Fairley on the head concierge. “If I guarantee that no one will see us together, would that work for you?”
“How could you do that?” There was a gratifying note of longing in her voice.
“I already have a room reserved at the Ritz-Carlton at Battery Park.” He needed to explain that. “Because of Trevor. There’s a private entrance we can use.” He wasn’t going to mention that he’d used it before for similar reasons. “We’ll get room service. No photos.”
“That’s a lot of trouble to go to.”
He could hear no in her voice, so he laid on the drawl. “You’re worth it, sugar. Let me send a car to pick you up at seven. Just an anonymous black sedan. No one will be the wiser.”
“I . . . well . . . thank you,” she finally said after a pause so long he thought he’d lost her. “That would be nice.”
He pumped his fist. “The car will bring you right to the entrance, and my driver will escort you from there. That eliminates the chance of anyone seeing us together.”
“I appreciate how careful you’re being,” she said. “And I feel ridiculous about it.”
“It’s not your problem, it’s mine. Being in the spotlight is not always comfortable for the people around me, so I’ve found ways to dodge it.” He’d also learned to avoid the people who basked in the light reflected from him. Miranda wasn’t one of them. He let anticipation vibrate in his voice. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Luke disconnected and glanced at his watch. He was going to be late for his session with his trainer. Stan would give him an earful, but Luke didn’t care. He could block out the abuse as long as he had Miranda to focus on.
A few hours later, Luke changed positions on the seat of the limousine for the third time, trying to ease the soreness his session with Stan had induced. His trainer assured Luke he would feel fine in the morning if he got a good night’s rest. But rest wasn’t on Luke’s agenda, so he had a couple of ice packs strapped to his ribs, and he had swallowed a few Aleve capsules before he left the Empire Center. That would do for now. Once Miranda arrived, he’d forget all about his pain.
An alert pinged on his phone. That was his assistant’s reminder that Luke needed to call Nathan Trainor about the gala.
He dialed the CEO’s cell number. This time Trainor answered.
“Trainor, I need a favor,” Luke said. “I got talked into buying a table at a charity dinner tomorrow night, and I need to fill it up. Miller’s coming, so I’m asking you to come, too. And bring a date.” He smiled.
“Miller put you up to this.” The CEO hadn’t gotten where he was by being stupid.
But Luke hadn’t, either. “Miller? No, he’s just willing to go along with it for a good cause. We’re raising money for foster kids in the New York metro area.”
“That’s not what I meant. He wants to meet my date.”
“Hell, based on what Miller says, I want to meet her,” Luke said. “You work fast, man.”
“As I told him yesterday, the meeting is premature.” Trainor’s voice was tight. “And I have no intention of exposing her to Miller’s curiosity.”
Definitely not stupid, but protective. “Too bad,” Luke said. “The silent auction has some damn nice jewelry, and all the proceeds go to the kids.”
Silence instead of refusal. That was a good sign, so Luke sank the hook in further. “There’s a listing of the items online. I’ll text you the link.”
“Did you donate a signed football?” the CEO asked.
Luke could tell Trainor was still on the fence, so he injected an element of competition. “With four tickets on the fifty-yard line. Miller kicked in an entire set of autographed Julian Best books, along with a prop from the last movie.”
Trainor laughed at that. “Put me down for a TE-Gen10 3-D printer.”
Luke had him now. “Sounds high-tech. So you’ll come.”
“I’m sure I’ll regret it, but I’ll ask Chloe if she’d like to attend.”
