The All-Star Antes Up
Page 84
But he was impossible to resist.
She swallowed her food and took a sip of beer. “I didn’t want to be a concierge. I didn’t even know they existed until I came to the city.”
That intense gaze of his was locked on her, and his silence told her to go on.
“I studied bookkeeping at a community college, so I got a job in the accounting office of a midtier hotel. One day the hotel manager walked into the middle of our warren of cubicles and yelled, ‘Does anyone here know anything about Broadway plays?’” Miranda still read all the theater listings and reviews, even though she could only afford off-off-off-Broadway tickets. “I thought he wanted a suggestion for his family, so I popped up from my chair and said, ‘Do you want a musical, a drama, or a comedy?’”
“I can picture that,” Luke said, his dimple showing. “You couldn’t help being helpful.”
“It’s a real character flaw.” Miranda took another swallow of beer. “He looked me up and down and said, ‘Come with me.’ Turns out the regular second-shift concierge had shown up for work drunk for the third time, so the manager had fired him on the spot. It was Friday afternoon and he needed a replacement instantly. He handed me phone numbers for three ticket brokers and a list of maître d’s at restaurants near the hotel and left me at the concierge desk. Alone.”
“Baptism by fire,” Luke said.
She’d stayed until midnight and gone home on a high of adrenaline and exhilaration. “I knew I’d found my dream career. The next morning I called the manager and asked for the job.”
“And the rest is history.”
“Not quite.” She’d nearly cried when the manager had told her she didn’t have the necessary connections to be the hotel’s concierge. “He wouldn’t take me on until I offered to work the night shift for free on weekends to get experience and build my contact list.”
He sat back, his beer dangling from one hand. The candle flames danced in a waft of air, casting moving shadows over the sculpted contours of his bare torso. “We’re a lot alike,” he said.
“You and me? How?” She couldn’t imagine any parallel between her insignificant career and his fame.
“We go after what we want.” He grinned. “You’re just more subtle about it.”
“Well, I didn’t actually tackle the hotel manager, but I begged blatantly.” She returned his smile for a moment before getting serious. “Your turn. Why did you decide to be a quarterback?”
“Huh.” She’d gotten to enjoy that huff of a response Luke gave when he was thinking about something. “I played a lot of sports as a kid. Ma said I used practices as an excuse to avoid homework.” His face softened at the memory. “Truth is, I was good at all of them. But football is the state religion of Texas, so I signed up for youth football as soon as Ma would let me. I was nine.”
“And the rest truly is history.”
His grin turned cocky. “Well, yeah. I had a great arm even then.” He shook his head. “But I knew football was my game for a different reason.”
His eyes lost their focus as he thought back to his past, to the decisions he had made then.
“In the first official game I ever played, the other kids just followed the ball like lemmings, no matter how much the coach yelled at them to remember their positions. I didn’t understand that, because I could see the whole field, see the play unfolding, figure out where the holes would be, who could get open. Coaches call it field vision. For me, it was like being able to slow down time. I got drunk on that power. Craved it.” He snapped back to the present. “It’s not a talent that has a lot of uses, so I decided to be a quarterback.”
She could hear an edge in his voice as he spoke the last sentence, reminding her of his struggle to find a new purpose after football. “I think it will come in handy when you’re a financial adviser and the markets go crazy.”
“Maybe.” He shifted in his chair. “What does that look mean? It’s the second time I’ve seen it tonight.”
She’d been thinking about how much she would miss talking to him so honestly, seeing the vulnerability behind the tough, golden image. She didn’t hide hers, either. “Just saving up memories.”
He went still, and his lips thinned with some inner tension. She might have revealed too much.
“We’ve got plenty more time,” he said. “Tonight. Tomorrow night. Remember, I can make time slow down.” His promise vibrated low within her.
She needed to tell him before he short-circuited her brain. “Not tomorrow night. I can’t.”
He straightened abruptly, banging his beer bottle against the chair arm. “What the hell!”
“Theo’s got the flu, and so does the hired man at the farm. I have to go up there to help Patty and Dennis.” Her mouth twisted into an unhappy frown.
A raging boil of emotions seared through him. Hollow disappointment, seething frustration, scorching anger. He didn’t stop to analyze what underlaid them. “When did you find out?”
“Earlier today.” Her gaze met his before she looked down at her plate.
“Would have been nice to know that before I promised my firstborn to get a private room at the Aerie.” He set his beer down on the table with great care. Now how the hell was he supposed to impress her so much she wouldn’t even look at another man for months? A couple of quesadillas wouldn’t cut it.
She swallowed her food and took a sip of beer. “I didn’t want to be a concierge. I didn’t even know they existed until I came to the city.”
That intense gaze of his was locked on her, and his silence told her to go on.
“I studied bookkeeping at a community college, so I got a job in the accounting office of a midtier hotel. One day the hotel manager walked into the middle of our warren of cubicles and yelled, ‘Does anyone here know anything about Broadway plays?’” Miranda still read all the theater listings and reviews, even though she could only afford off-off-off-Broadway tickets. “I thought he wanted a suggestion for his family, so I popped up from my chair and said, ‘Do you want a musical, a drama, or a comedy?’”
“I can picture that,” Luke said, his dimple showing. “You couldn’t help being helpful.”
“It’s a real character flaw.” Miranda took another swallow of beer. “He looked me up and down and said, ‘Come with me.’ Turns out the regular second-shift concierge had shown up for work drunk for the third time, so the manager had fired him on the spot. It was Friday afternoon and he needed a replacement instantly. He handed me phone numbers for three ticket brokers and a list of maître d’s at restaurants near the hotel and left me at the concierge desk. Alone.”
“Baptism by fire,” Luke said.
She’d stayed until midnight and gone home on a high of adrenaline and exhilaration. “I knew I’d found my dream career. The next morning I called the manager and asked for the job.”
“And the rest is history.”
“Not quite.” She’d nearly cried when the manager had told her she didn’t have the necessary connections to be the hotel’s concierge. “He wouldn’t take me on until I offered to work the night shift for free on weekends to get experience and build my contact list.”
He sat back, his beer dangling from one hand. The candle flames danced in a waft of air, casting moving shadows over the sculpted contours of his bare torso. “We’re a lot alike,” he said.
“You and me? How?” She couldn’t imagine any parallel between her insignificant career and his fame.
“We go after what we want.” He grinned. “You’re just more subtle about it.”
“Well, I didn’t actually tackle the hotel manager, but I begged blatantly.” She returned his smile for a moment before getting serious. “Your turn. Why did you decide to be a quarterback?”
“Huh.” She’d gotten to enjoy that huff of a response Luke gave when he was thinking about something. “I played a lot of sports as a kid. Ma said I used practices as an excuse to avoid homework.” His face softened at the memory. “Truth is, I was good at all of them. But football is the state religion of Texas, so I signed up for youth football as soon as Ma would let me. I was nine.”
“And the rest truly is history.”
His grin turned cocky. “Well, yeah. I had a great arm even then.” He shook his head. “But I knew football was my game for a different reason.”
His eyes lost their focus as he thought back to his past, to the decisions he had made then.
“In the first official game I ever played, the other kids just followed the ball like lemmings, no matter how much the coach yelled at them to remember their positions. I didn’t understand that, because I could see the whole field, see the play unfolding, figure out where the holes would be, who could get open. Coaches call it field vision. For me, it was like being able to slow down time. I got drunk on that power. Craved it.” He snapped back to the present. “It’s not a talent that has a lot of uses, so I decided to be a quarterback.”
She could hear an edge in his voice as he spoke the last sentence, reminding her of his struggle to find a new purpose after football. “I think it will come in handy when you’re a financial adviser and the markets go crazy.”
“Maybe.” He shifted in his chair. “What does that look mean? It’s the second time I’ve seen it tonight.”
She’d been thinking about how much she would miss talking to him so honestly, seeing the vulnerability behind the tough, golden image. She didn’t hide hers, either. “Just saving up memories.”
He went still, and his lips thinned with some inner tension. She might have revealed too much.
“We’ve got plenty more time,” he said. “Tonight. Tomorrow night. Remember, I can make time slow down.” His promise vibrated low within her.
She needed to tell him before he short-circuited her brain. “Not tomorrow night. I can’t.”
He straightened abruptly, banging his beer bottle against the chair arm. “What the hell!”
“Theo’s got the flu, and so does the hired man at the farm. I have to go up there to help Patty and Dennis.” Her mouth twisted into an unhappy frown.
A raging boil of emotions seared through him. Hollow disappointment, seething frustration, scorching anger. He didn’t stop to analyze what underlaid them. “When did you find out?”
“Earlier today.” Her gaze met his before she looked down at her plate.
“Would have been nice to know that before I promised my firstborn to get a private room at the Aerie.” He set his beer down on the table with great care. Now how the hell was he supposed to impress her so much she wouldn’t even look at another man for months? A couple of quesadillas wouldn’t cut it.
