Chapter 6
Fresh Powder
I call an emergency meeting with the girls. Cleo’s shooting a late show and will be stuck in editing until the wee hours of the morning. Monroe tells me that after I’d told her I couldn’t meet up with her tonight, she accepted an invitation for dinner and drinks with a Hollywood producer who blew into town last minute. Hannah asks me to meet her on a photo shoot. She’s styling celebrities for the Ten Hottest Actresses edition of Femme Fame Magazine.
I trot the twenty-something odd blocks to Chelsea. I’m nearly hyperventilating after running ten flights of stairs to the top floor.
When Hannah sees me, she clutches her chest. “What the hell happened to you?”
“I know I look like horrible, but I had to hurry up and get here.”
“I’ll be back in thirty,” Hannah shouts to anyone who’s listening.
She collects me, and we take the old elevator to the roof. We sit on a patio sofa.
“I saw Robert Tango,” I reveal.
Hannah ruffles her eyebrows. “Am I supposed to know who the f*ck that is?”
“No, but I know who he is! We went to high school together. He was Vincent Adams’s best friend.”
“Who the f*ck is that?”
“My boss.”
“Oh. Right.”
“I had a huge crush on Robert back in high school, and I always believed Vincent was the one who convinced him to ignore me. Although, he really never ignored me, but he never did anything about liking me. I’m sure he liked me…”
“Maggie, you’re babbling, and I’m working. Get to it.”
“Okay. He asked me today why I’d liked Robert back then and not him.”
“Who? Vincent?”
“Yes, Vincent.”
“Oh, got it. It’s because he wants to f*ck you, and repeatedly.”
I sigh. “Must you and Monroe always be so vulgar?”
“So what? Does Robert Tango want to f*ck you too?”
I shake my head. “You’re missing the moral of the story.”
“The only moral to this story is finally! When was the last time you let some guy do your hot body? And don’t roll your eyes at me. Your body is hot as hell. Which one are you going to—”
I point directly in her face. “Don’t you say it.”
She chews on my finger, and I can’t help but laugh.
“He’s going to do this to you, and that to you,” she keeps joking.
On Monday morning, I find a note on my desk asking me to stop by Vincent’s office as soon as I get in. My heart sinks to my knees. Is he going to fire me due to a conflict of interest?
Oh my God! What if he and Robert have been lovers for all these years? That would explain why he’d wanted to know why I was into Robert. The supermodel chick is just a decoy. Men with secrets love getting involved with superficial women. Those women are too self-involved to pay attention to their men’s secrets. Although I can’t tell if his girlfriend is superficial by looking at her, but what if she is?
I snatch the note off my desk and look around my office. I sigh. Something this good never lasts forever. At least I learned what I always knew—I was born to do marketing. I wave to Linda as I pass her desk.
She grins at me. “Good morning, snow bunny.”
I crimp my eyebrows. I want to stop and ask what she means by that but Vincent is standing in his doorway waiting for me.
“You look nice,” he says.
I look down at myself. I’m wearing a plain, no-frills cream dress since I’ve already worn all three of my power suits. It’s great that Monroe is bringing more suits over tonight. I’ll have to make sure whatever she tries to push on me is appropriate for the office.
“Thanks,” I mutter. He’s buttering me up before he sticks me in the oven? “What’s going on?”
“Our flight leaves in an hour.”
I blink. “Our flight?”
“We have a meeting at noon in Aspen.”
“Who is ‘we’?”
“You and I.”
“Just us?”
“Yes.” He slams the door to his office. “The car is waiting.”
“What about Linda or Lena? Shouldn’t one of them go with us?”
“This is your baby, Maggie.”
The scintillating look he gives me makes me forget what I want to ask. I’ve been reduced to nodding stiffly. I widen my eyes as I pass Linda on my way to my office to get my bag and coat.
“Have a safe trip,” she says.
I’m too shocked to say thank you. Then Vincent and I are alone in the elevator. We don’t speak. He’s probably just as nervous as I am. The elevator doesn’t stop once, which never happens in buildings this large. I feel as though I’m in a trance as we walk through the lobby and out into the nippy morning.
We’re alone again in the car on the way to Teterboro. Vincent is on the phone with his assistant, booking meetings and confirming his calendar for the next two weeks. I’m too nervous to work on my computer.
My eyes keep falling to the bulge in his pants. Sex, sex, sex! That’s all I can think about. It’s Hannah’s fault. I can’t get what she said about him wanting to have sex with me out of my head. I mean, does he? That bulge getting anywhere near me is unfathomable. When my gaze finds its way to his face, he’s studying me with a smirk. I look away. Did he see me gawk at his piece?
He hangs up. “So how was your night?”
“Huh?” It’s time to get a grip. “I mean—it was fine. What about yours?”
“Fine.”
I wait for more details or something about me crashing face-first into his best friend and business partner. I want to mention Robert, but Vincent’s cell phone rings.
He has a discussion with someone regarding a new app for one of the company’s publications. He asks what seems like a million questions about market viability of the app. He’s considering going digital-only with the magazine if they can’t create a need for the paper version. Apparently, they’ve gone digital on all but three publications, and that has boosted subscriptions. They’re considering on-demand issuance of paper copies.
He ends the call as soon as we reach the airfield. “I’ll be back,” he says to me.
Vincent hops out of the car. I watch him stride over to the ramp to speak with one of the ground crew. He points up the ramp, nods, and strides just as gracefully back to the car. He opens my door.
“We can board,” he says.
He puts his hand on my waist as soon as I’m on my feet. His fingers massage me twice before he lets go. I skip a breath. He takes my hand and leads me across the pavement and up the ramp. Once inside, I fall into the first seat I see. Our hands pull apart, and I crave his touch again. He goes into the control center and closes the door.
Now that I’m alone, I can work on centering myself. Maybe I can fall asleep before he comes out. I wish I had a book or something. Instead, I turn on my computer and start a list of venues I should look into for the IK App. But I keep glancing at the door Vincent disappeared behind.
When he returns, he sits in a seat across the aisle from me. “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes,” I squeak. I swallow and try to find my normal voice. “So who are we meeting?” That’s the magic question I should’ve asked earlier.
He fastens his seatbelt. “Darius Shockey. You should put yours on.”
“Oh, right.” I buckle up. “So who is Darius Shockey?”
“He’s the organizer of the event.”
I frown. “Humph.”
“Why do you look so curious?”
I’m distracted by his teeth. They’re two shades lighter than the whites of his eyes. Then it strikes me that the reason I can see his teeth is because he’s flashing that mesmerizing smile. I look down. He’s the boss, he’s the boss, he’s the boss. Not only that, but I’m positive the leggy, slim woman I’ve seen him with is his girlfriend.
“And she ignores me,” he says.
“No, I’m sorry. What did you ask?” I’m setting an unprofessional precedence. “Wait, I remember. My research turned up the name Reginald Champion.”
He’s studying me as if I’m a mental patient. “I see.”
I turn away from that gorgeous face of his and gaze out over the airfield. The engine roars to life. Not long after, the airplane trucks backward. The sound and movement have made the silence between us less awkward. I can’t believe I’m going to have to spend the rest of the day alone with him.
“He was surprised to see you,” he says out of nowhere.
“I’m sorry?” I ask.
“Yesterday, at the polo match. Robert was surprised to see you.”
“I didn’t know you two were still acquainted,” I say. I wonder why he’d omitted that factoid from our discussion in the limousine yesterday.
“I didn’t know he would be there.”
“So you’re business partners?”
“He’s a silent one, and I’m the boisterous one.”
I laugh weakly. His joke did nothing to cure my anxiety.
“Seeing him again probably wasn’t easy for you.” He tilts his head as if he’s evaluating my reaction. “If I knew he was going to show up, I would’ve told you he would be there.”
I shrug. “Why would you think it’d be a problem for me? I haven’t seen him in twelve years. I only had a crush on him for four months. I was over it as soon as I got back to New York.”
He looks conflicted. “He’s going through a divorce. It’s pretty nasty.”
“Why aren’t you married?” I ask, totally off the subject.
“I’m waiting for the butterflies. They felt so damn good the first time.” His deep penetrating gaze holds me captive. “What about you? Why aren’t you married?”
I laugh loudly as the small plane stops in front of the runway. “I’ve never even thought about it.”
“Not even to Robert when we were in high school?”
I look at him as if he’s insane. High school? Marriage? Really?
“That was a joke.”
I snort. “Glad you clarified. But no, I just wanted to make out with him feverishly or something.”
“What do you mean by ‘or something’?”
His strange fascination with my crush on Robert is making me believe my earlier theory. “I know you said Robert was married but he’s getting a divorce.” I narrow my eyes. “Are you guys together? All the weird discussions we’ve been having about the past would make way more sense if you’re, you know, lovers.”
Vincent laughs his head off. I’m warm with embarrassment, so I shimmy out of my jacket. His laughter simmers.
“If you only knew,” he says.
“If I only knew what?”
“He liked you in high school—a lot.”
“And you convinced him to stay away from me?”
“I did,” he admits.
I pause, surprised by his frankness. “Why? Because I wasn’t popular enough?”
His gaze caresses my face. “Robert wasn’t the only one who found you attractive.”
I throw my hands up. “I’m not following you.”
He pauses, sniffs, shakes his head, and turns to scowl out the window.
The pilot warns us that it’s take-off time. Right after the announcement is made, I get it. He liked me too! I think. No? Yes? Is that what he’s alluding to? Never in a million years would I have guessed Vincent Adams would be attracted to me in any way, shape, or form. He was so that and I was so this. Robert was so neither.
The airplane bolts down the runway and lifts off. Vincent avoids eye contact with me, so I close my eyes and try to keep them that way. My brain is too active to sleep. All I hear is Vincent typing on his laptop, and occasionally he changes it up to punch out a message on his cell phone.
A pretty flight attendant taps me on the shoulder to hand me a breakfast menu, but I decline. Only then does Vincent glance at me. Our eyes connect, but I turn away and close mine to think about the time I spent living in Denver.
I wonder if things would’ve been different for me if I’d known Vincent Adams liked me. I never paid him much attention. He was the wallpaper in Robert’s background. I was also pretty depressed. My parents didn’t have an amicable divorce, nor were they the kind of people who kept their shit locked behind the bedroom door.
I had been privy to all of their verbal sparring. I knew every dirty punch my father’s lawyers threw at my mother and vice versa. I harbored no delusions about what makes a happy home. Growing up, I never met anyone who didn’t have a bunch of crazy shit going on behind their rod-iron fences. Uncle Charles and Aunt Carlotta, Jack and Charlie’s parents, put on a good show, but their ultra-wealthy, cookie-cutter front was just that, a front.
I think I fell for Robert Tango because he had a face I could fantasize about. He didn’t look like the average boy next door. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and a crooked smile. He had the face of a movie star, and that hasn’t changed.
Before long, the pilot announces that we’ll land in twenty minutes. I’m groggy. I must’ve drifted in and out of consciousness the whole trip. I sneak a glance at Vincent. He’s focused on his work. Our last discussion sits between us like a polka dot elephant, but I can’t think about that right now. It’s almost show time.
I take my purse off the seat and search through it until I find my press powder. Flying always makes my skin extra moist. I smooth the pad over my face to dry it off and use my fingers to tame my wild, bedhead hair. I sigh and try to tug the wayward strands into place.
“What are you doing?” Vincent asks.
I jump. I forgot someone was here to see how I work to tame this shrew on top of my head. “Getting ready for the meeting.”
I slam my mirror shut and throw it back in my bag. He has that confused look that men get when they have no idea what they’ve done to bring out “the crazy.”
I lift a hand. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry with you. I’m mad at my hair. Normally, I’m fine with looking like a cavewoman, but ever since you gave me this opportunity, I’ve been feeling like I’m worth more. I just wish my hair would follow suit.” I smile. I was being witty, but his frown tells me that he didn’t get it.
Finally we land. Thick snow layers the landscape. The opaque gray sky hovers low. The workers on the ground are wearing extra layers.
We have a bitter walk from the landing strip into the terminal. I would’ve brought my faux-fur-trimmed puffer coat if I knew I was going to snowy, cold Colorado. The good news is that we get into a chauffeured Town Car as soon as we step out of the terminal. My teeth are chattering.
Vincent sits close enough that our arms and legs touch. “Turn the heater up,” he tells the driver.
I hug myself like a weakling. Hell, I can walk from Midtown to Tribeca in ten inches of snow. I’m one-quarter Swedish for goodness’ sake! I’m built to tolerate the cold. Yet here I am freezing to death. I’m probably so cold because I’m so nervous. If Lena or Linda could’ve come with us, then I would be calm and collected, not sitting here shivering.
We’re on the way to the venue. I’m dizzy from the altitude, the fact that we’re still touching, and the clean scent of his soap. Although it’s been awkward between us, it hasn’t been uncomfortable. Vincent Adams is one of those people I could sit in silence with forever.
He faces me. “Are you warmer?”
“I am.” I wait for him to scoot away, but he doesn’t.
His gaze lingers on my face. Vincent and I are treading dangerous ground. Our breath crashes into each other. My lips want to do the same thing. Instead, I stare aimlessly out the window, hoping that breaking eye contact will allow my heart to slow down.
“We’re scheduled to meet with Darius at Deer Mount Lodge,” he says.
“Are we having a lunch meeting?” I refuse to meet his gaze. I’m starving. My stomach wishes I hadn’t declined breakfast earlier.
“No, but we’ll grab a late lunch afterward.”
“That sounds fine with me,” I squeal as I look down at my leg. He accidentally brushed my thigh. I have no idea how that happened, but it felt good.
The car moves slowly because of the ice on the roads. It’s also snowing, so visibility is low. I keep checking my watch. Our meeting starts in fifteen minutes.
“Don’t worry,” Vincent says. “There aren’t going to be any ramifications if we’re late.”
I chuckle, still tense. “Okay.” I take a deep breath.
“You’re uptight when it comes to the job. Why is that?”
I take another deep breath. “I’d like to know the answer to that myself.”
“Oh, you’re going to have to do better than that, Maggie.” He used his sexy voice again. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Then who’s coming to your place for drinks tonight?”
I pucker my eyebrows. “What?”
“Saturday, on the phone, you told someone that they can come by your apartment tonight.”
I gasp. “Oh, shit!” I scramble for my purse, grab my phone out of it, and power it up. “What time does our flight leave this afternoon?”
He hesitates. “We’re scheduled to fly out at five p.m.”
I grunt, frustrated by the fact that my phone is out of power. “Could I use your phone?”
“To call your boyfriend?” he asks.
“What boyfriend?”
“This overreaction that you’re having has to do with missing a night in with him, right?”
“What?” I scowl. “No. It’s one of my friends. She’s stopping by tonight, and if I don’t tell her I won’t be there, she’ll get really nuts.” I flip a hand aimlessly. “I’ll hear about how I disrupted her tight schedule and the precious time she wasted waiting for me. I often wonder what could be so demanding for someone who’s never had a nine-to-five and lives off a trust fund.” I hold my palm up. “Please, can I use your phone?”
He smirks. “Yes, you may.” He sets it in my palm.
I call Monroe. She never answers numbers she doesn’t recognize. I can’t leave a message because her mailbox is full. I grunt out of frustration and put his phone back in his hand. “I’ll call her later.”
He chuckles as he stuffs the phone inside his suit coat. “So you don’t have a boyfriend?”
“No, why?” I’m still a little irritated.
“I figured someone who looks like you would have one.”
I snort. A question hangs on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t ask it. I want to know what the hell he wants from me. He’s confusing as hell. “Well, someone who looks like me doesn’t have a boyfriend. So there you go.”
I don’t want to talk about this anymore. As a matter of fact, from now on, I want to keep my relationship with the puzzling Vincent Adams strictly professional. “Let’s talk about the meeting.”
“What about it?” His tone is sharp.
“Did you discuss anything with Darius prior to our coming here?”
“Only that we’re interested in sponsoring the event.”
He’s doing the staring into my eyes thing, but I can handle it. I will not let Vincent Adams mesmerize me. My heart will continue beating at a normal rate. My head will not fly above my shoulders. He is the boss. I am the employee.
“What kind of sponsorship did you entice him with? Major or minor?” I ask. “We don’t really need a major presence because we don’t want to make it look as if we’re trying too hard. We want to be enticing but modest.”
He flexes his eyebrows twice. “I like the sound of that,” he croons.
Our noses are close. I bite my lower lip to stifle a spontaneous exhalation.
Vincent breaks eye contact to lean forward and point out the front window. “See, we’re here.”
The town of Aspen is spread across a valley at the base of a mountain. The buildings of the shops and lodges have a quaint, remote European village feel.
The lodge we’re visiting is a beautiful chateau with big windows and steeple roofs. It sits near the base of the mountain range. The lights inside are warm and inviting, especially since the snow is falling harder. The car stops under a carport, and Vincent and I scurry into the lodge, barely touched by the frosty air.
Darius Shockey is not who I expected. He’s freckle-faced and has long ginger dreadlocks. His trousers and cream-colored turtleneck sweater are baggy.
The meeting starts with him giving Vincent a ski report of some sorts. Of course Vincent’s into skiing; he’s a Colorado boy. After that’s over, Darius shows us the indoor staging areas. We look out the windows at some of the nearby outside areas. The snow is whipping down.
“I was going to kick up some powder, but the storm moved in earlier than reported,” Darius says.
“That’s a storm?” I ask. I’ve been praying the snowfall would ease up, but it’s done the exact opposite.
He nods. “And it’s a bad one.”
“Okay,” I say in a conclusive tone. “I think this will be a great opportunity for the IK App. I’m sold. Maybe we can discuss this further in a phone call tomorrow.” I want to wrap this up and get back on the airplane.
“Phone call tomorrow?” Darius asks. “You’re planning on flying out today?”
I look to Vincent. “Well, yes.”
Vincent’s been quiet because he’s reading on his cell phone. I don’t like the way he’s frowning.
“Actually, no,” he says without looking up.
“What do you mean no? Is the flight delayed?”
“Maggie, airplanes don’t fly in snowstorms,” he says.
That was condescending, but I’m too rattled to care. Now what do I do? Where do I go? I don’t have a fresh change of underwear or my toothbrush. I use a special soap because my skin is sensitive to harsh perfumes, and I don’t have that either! Those excuses are my way of avoiding the most frightening part of these circumstances: I’m stuck in Aspen with Vincent Adams.
I sigh. “Okay, fine, then I’ll get a hotel room.”
“You’ll stay at my home. It’s big enough for the both of us,” Vincent says.
I’m dazed. Vincent asks Darius if a certain road is closed. His voice sounds a million miles away. Darius mentions a snowplow and says he’ll give us a ride. I blink at Vincent in his fitted dark-gray suit pants and crisp long-sleeved shirt. There’s no denying I’m sexually attracted to his mounds of manliness.
Vincent says something about stocking up on food. He tells me, “Wait here.”
“We’ll be looping video during breaks on the concert stage. If you give me a one-minute reel before next Thursday, I can add you to the lineup,” Darius says.
“Yeah, sure, I will,” I barely say.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asks.
I squeeze my eyes tightly, hoping to halt my fear. It doesn’t work. “I guess. Hey, so how long is this storm supposed to last?”
“About two or three days,” he says casually.
I stifle a gasp. I don’t want Darius to know I’m afraid to be alone with my boss. I smile and listen to him run down the lineup for the concert stage.
Vincent returns with four large paper bags filled with enough entrées to feed a platoon. I suspect Vincent Adams knows just how long he’s going to be stuck in Aspen, Colorado, with me.