Just Destiny (24 page)

At the other end of the table, Steve held his plate out as the chef carved a thin slice of beef off the huge roast sitting under the glowing orange warming lamp, and draped it carefully on his plate as if bestowing a precious gift. With a grin, Steve thanked him and moved toward the seafood area offering caviar, oysters, and bowls of huge shrimp.

Next to that stood steaming chafing dishes of roasted vegetables and rice pilaf. Wait staff circulated with bacon-wrapped chestnuts, little crudités with brochette, flaky triangular pastries, and crab-stuffed mushrooms.

Steve filled his plate to overflowing, but she was a bit more judicious with her choices. They went to the bar to refill their drinks before joining a group sitting near the fireplace. Steve made the introductions and after a few initial polite inquiries about what Jenny did for a living, the conversation turned to trials and office gossip.

Jenny took a bite of the mushroom and sighed. “This is amazing. Have you tried the mushrooms?”

Steve swallowed. “I don’t like crab.”

“You can hardly taste it. Here, try.” She speared the other half of her mushroom and held it out to him.

Steve opened his mouth and she fed him the appetizer. He chewed quickly.

“Good, eh?”

His head bobbed. “Not bad. I like the prime rib better. Here.” He cut off a little slice and offered it to her.

She winced. “Too fatty. It upsets my stomach. But the roasted veggies are wonderful. Do you think Mrs. Corbridge knows how they were prepared?”

He raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

“Too bad.” Jenny set aside the empty plate and dug a small teaspoon into her cup of mousse. She closed her eyes, savoring the creamy rich chocolaty amazingness. “Oh, now
this
is pure heaven,” she purred.

Steve stared, his expression amused and something else…

“What?” She frowned. “Do I have something in my teeth?”

He shook his head and smiled. “It’s just good to see you enjoying food again.”

That’s all? You’d have to be a zombie not to appreciate this spread. “Are you kidding? This is amazing.” She popped another spoonful into her mouth.

He raised a spoon to her glass and she swiveled to the side, stretching her arm to keep the cup out of his reach. “Get your own.”

“You’re not gonna eat all that.”

Probably not. She narrowed her eyes, took a heaping spoonful of the mousse, and then handed him the glass. “I have to get the name of her caterer.” A caterer would make Annie’s shower so much easier.

With a whisper to Steve, Jenny slipped away to the restroom. On her way back, she stepped into the empty library. She felt instantly comfortable in this cozy room with floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with books—everything from bestseller paperback fiction and leather-bound classics to nonfiction. A whole wall was dedicated to law and management books. Crossing to the window. Jenny touched the frosty pane and admired the white lights illuminating the glittering trees in the backyard.

This time last year, she and Gabe had been freezing their butts off stringing lights around the pines and crab trees in their backyard. They’d strung the pines with multicolored lights and the deciduous trees with twinkling white lights. Jenny had had to use a little creative persuasion in the form of kisses and backrubs to convince Gabe to help her, but once they were done, snuggling together on the porch with warm mugs of hot chocolate, Gabe had agreed that he loved the festive lights reflecting across the sugary snow, creating their own private wonderland.

This year the porch remained closed off and the yard dark. Maybe she’d decorate it next Christmas for the baby. Or maybe she’d wait a year. Next Christmas the baby would be too young to appreciate it. Jenny sighed.

This isn’t doing you any good, moping around. Go find Steve
. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile to her lips, raised her chin, and left her sanctuary.

The group from the fireplace had disassembled, leaving a scattering of china, silver and cloth napkins. Jenny looked at the bar; he wasn’t there. She followed a few men toward a staircase to the lower level. Rounding the stairs, Jenny found Steve, standing beside an ornate pool table.

He’d discarded his jacket and stood relaxed, holding the cue stick at his side. Steve smiled, catching her eye as soon as she rounded the stairs as if he’d been watching for her. When she reached his side, he leaned down, murmuring, “Okay?”

She nodded. Daniel Corbridge was right; that certainly was a unique table. Now she understood the moniker, the patriot. The table’s slate top was covered by navy blue felt. A circle of stars sat beneath the side pocket and was flanked by red and white painted wood carved to remind one of a rippling flag. Perfect for a politician.

“Good shot,” he said to Daniel.

“Stripes or solids?” she asked. There were far more stripes on the table than solids. As the words left her mouth, Daniel nudged in the solid purple four ball.

“Stripes,” she answered her own question.

Daniel missed the next shot and Steve moved forward. Ignoring the fifteen ball sitting in front of the end pocket, he tried a bank shot that just missed the ten ball.

“Too bad,” Daniel said. “Why didn’t you go for the fifteen? It was all set up for you.”

“I like it blocking the pocket. I can go back and get it anytime,” Steve said.

Daniel leaned over the table and eased in the yellow two ball. “Take ’em while you can get ’em, son.”

Daniel sank another solid and then missed his next shot. Steve sank the twelve and then again tried for a more skillful shot. Banking the cue ball, he smacked the eleven, but it rolled just past the side pocket. After he missed, his boss tisked, tisked and sank his last ball.

“Eight ball in the side,” he called out. He missed. With the table pretty much cleared, Steve sank his last two.

“Eight in the corner.” With a quick punch, the black ball shot into the corner and the white ball promptly rolled in behind it. He lost.

“Easy, man. This isn’t like pitching. You need a little finesse.” Daniel patted him on the back. “Billiards is like a woman. Ya get a lot further with a little sweet talkin’ than yellin’. Know what I mean?”

Steve nodded. “Yes, sir, I do.”

What a condescending ass. Jenny burned on Steve’s behalf. As if pitching required no skill. She was surprised and proud he didn’t show any annoyance. Was he inured to such insults or did he really not mind?

Daniel put his stick away. “I’d better check on the missus. You keep practicing and pretty soon you’ll be a shark.”

“Thanks,” Steve said.

“Hey, Steve, ready for another lesson?” a short balding man called out. With an arm firmly wrapped around a pretty brunette’s waist, he smirked.

“No, thanks, Doug.” He walked toward the rack. “I’ve ignored my guest too long.”

“Not afraid to lose are you?” Doug turned to his date. “Steve here used to play professional ball, but apparently he isn’t as gifted with his fine motor skills.”

Steve’s lips tightened as he continued putting the cue in the rack.

Jenny walked over, whispering, “I don’t mind waiting, but you don’t have to prove anything.”

“What’d ya say, pal?”

Pal
? Jenny hadn’t thought that word could sound so insulting. If this was a sample of what Steve put up with at work on a regular basis, she wondered why he stayed.

Steve reached for the cue. “One game.” He chalked his stick. “You can break.”

“No, we’ll lag. Don’t want it said I took advantage.” He shrugged out of his suit coat and handed it to his girlfriend.

Doug won the lag and Steve backed away from the table to lean against the back of a chair. Doug took an easy shot and then grinned at his date sitting nearby, cheering. He lined up his next shot and punched it in. Swinging the stick behind his back, he leaned backward over the table and punched another stripe ball in the pocket. He beamed and slapped Steve on the shoulder. “That’s how it’s done, old man.”

Steve nodded. “Nice shot.”

Doug sauntered around the table to line up his next shot.

“It’s not looking good for you,” Jenny whispered.

He took a sip of his beer. “He’s about through.”

Four striped balls lay scattered about. Doug didn’t look done. The guy missed a shot and Steve moved forward, silently scanning the layout. He crouched over the table and, with a loud crack, shot the three ball into the corner pocket. In two smooth steps, he moved around the table to sink the nine and seven balls in rapid succession. Jenny silently cheered as Steve wordlessly, skillfully cleared the table.

“Eight in the end,” Steve said as he lined up the shot.

“You’re never gonna make it; the fifteen’s in the way.”

With one smooth stroke, Steve rolled the cue into the black ball, which glided between the fifteen and the bumper before plunking into the corner pocket.

Doug clamped his jaw shut, then slapped a fifty-dollar bill on the table. “Another? How about we make it interesting?”

Steve unrolled his sleeves and reached for his jacket. “Some other time.”

“What? Afraid of losing?”

Steve felt Jenny freeze at his side, knowing she worried he’d rise to the bait. He shoved his arms into the jacket and took his time adjusting it. Not with this prick. He wasn’t worth it. “Why would I waste time playing pool with you when I could be dancing with a beautiful woman?” He turned Jenny toward the stairs.

As soon as they’d climbed a few steps and were out of sight, she said, “You’re really good at pool.”

“Yep.”

“You let Daniel win, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

She stopped, blocking the stairs. He looked up at her and she brushed a hand across his cheek. Pride shone in her beautiful eyes. “That was very sweet. You’re a pretty nice guy, Grant.”

“Save the halo, Jen. He’s my boss. I’m not stupid.” To forestall more talking, he turned her and nudged her up the stairs. They threaded their way through half a dozen dancing pairs. Needing to burn off some energy, Steve swung her around to the jazzy tune of Glenn Miller’s “In The Mood.” He pulled her in close.

“I don’t remember how to jitterbug.”

“Fake it.” He pushed her away, then pulled her close for an underarm turn before twirling her out again.

“Where’d you learn to dance?”

“My sisters made me dance with them, but I drew the line when they came at me with makeup.”

Jenny grinned. She liked to dance. He hadn’t known for sure but thought she might. He loved the way she gave herself over to the music with complete abandonment, closing her eyes and moving in perfect time to the song.

A singer joined the band, and in appreciation of the dancing couples, the group played a quick succession of popular fast songs by Van Morrison and Bob Seger. As they wound down, Steve inclined his head toward the bar and held out his hand. Jenny put her hand in his and they wound their way through the couples.

At the first few bars of the next song, Jenny pulled him back. “I love this song.”

She tugged him back onto the dance floor to dance to Starship’s “Nothing’s Gonna Stop us Now.” Jenny closed her eyes and swayed to the music. Lip syncing about determined lovers willing to pit themselves against the world to live their dream together, her hips rocked sensually from side to side.

He stifled the urge to rest his hands on those sexy curves and pull her close so they could get lost in the music together. He pulled her in, then whirled her out to break the romantic spell. Seeing the sparkle shine in her eyes and the glow in her cheeks made everything worthwhile—even if it was only temporary. Anything to make her smile again.

Then the music slowed to a ballad from the Phantom of the Opera—“All I Ask of You.” Jenny’s eyes became luminous, and she reached a hand out to him. Steve folded her into his arms and tucked her close to his chest. He resisted the impulse to close his eyes and drop his head to rest on hers, savoring the bliss. The rich tones of the trumpet, violin, and cello wrapped around them, cocooning them in sweetness. They waltzed around the floor until Steve whirled Jenny around and around to the swirling of the harp.

God, he was happy. He was really having fun. Too much fun. He should be dancing and enjoying tonight with his fiancée, instead of being glad she’d chosen Bunko over his work party.

Over the top of Jenny’s curls, he scanned the dancing couples, thinking he should put a little space between them. He didn’t want spiteful office gossip to hurt Annie. Then again, nobody was paying attention to them, and he hadn’t the heart to push Jenny away.

Jenny nestled against Steve’s chest, then looked up with huge sad eyes that squeezed his heart painfully.

God what an idiot. How could Steve have forgotten this was Gabe and Jenny’s song? For two months straight, he’d awakened to the sound of Gabe playing “All I Ask of You” on his piano. While Jenny slept, Gabe got up extra early and let himself into Steve’s house to practice the song before they went on their morning bike ride. He’d learned it for their first anniversary. No wonder she was teary-eyed.

As the refrain came to an end, regardless of possible watching eyes, Steve dropped a kiss on Jenny’s forehead. “Let’s get out of here.”

“It’s okay.” Jenny smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m okay.”

She might be okay but the festive mood was gone, intruded on by bittersweet memories for them both. He tugged her hand. “I’ve had enough. Let’s go.”

She flashed him a look of relief. They found their hosts near the buffet and said their goodbyes before retrieving Jenny’s coat and the car. Once seated in the mustang, Steve turned up the heat.

Jenny settled back and closed her eyes. After a few minutes, she rolled her head sideways to peer at him through the dark. “Do you believe in destiny?”

Steve looked both ways before heading out into the street. “Destiny as in our lives are all scripted out for us and we’re just puppets fulfilling some master plan?”

“Yeah. Perhaps I’m just destined to be alone. Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be and I should stop fighting it. I mean first, I had to give up Michael, then Gabe died on me and now this fight over the baby…maybe I’m not supposed to have a really close love.”