The Reality of You (25 page)

Chapter 28

“Here,
this should help you relax,” Jules said, handing me a glass of champagne. “I’m
tired of your knee bouncing to some crazy rhythm.”

Wincing, I took the
flute.

She studied my face.
“Soften the blush, too red, and fix that strand of hair,” she told the makeup
artist and hairdresser, gesturing with her own flute at my face before she sat
down in the chair across from me. Her tone had sounded kind of rude, but it
didn’t seem to faze either of the artists. Since they worked with Jules
regularly, I suppose they were used to her bossing them around.

We were in her
kitchen, getting ready for my date with Reese Jules-style. I took a sip of
bubbly to appease her. The last thing I wanted to be was wobbly this evening.
Once I sat the almost full flute down, the artists got back to work, making me
presentable, but my knee kept up its bouncing. I’d never been in public—like
the public that gossiped—with Reese, and tonight, we were attending a charity
ball. Though he’d warned me about cameras and red carpets, I’d been thinking of
him in a tux and the slow removal of said tux. Now, hours away from the event,
my stomach churned.

At least his
business partner would be at the event. We had dinner with Jason and his wife
earlier in the week. Reese had met Jason in college, even roomed with him the
last year after they met in the MBA program. And while Jason seemed as driven
as Reese, he was down to earth in a Seattle retro-hippie way. His wife was nice
too. I looked forward to seeing them, just not being seen on any color carpet.

When I was finally
done, Jules led me to her bedroom and helped me put on
the
dress, a pale-gold silk number that swooped and draped down the
front and even more in the back to the point it was pretty much backless. The
skirt was straight and narrow until the bottom, where it rippled above my feet.
After zipping me up, she turned me toward the mirror.

And for a second, I
couldn’t find myself in the glass.

I’d asked for a
vintage look, and Jules had delivered. Between the dress, the makeup, and my
brown hair in long finger waves, I was a 1930s starlet come to life. I’d
already ordered Jules a flower arrangement for a special thanks, but after
surveying myself, I wanted to double the arrangement so it flowed off her huge
dining room table.

“Well, if he isn’t
in love already,” Jules said with a satisfied smirk, “when he sees you, he will
be.”

As I shook my head,
the doorbell rang.

Jules put her hands
up, palms toward me. “Put the shoes on then stay put. Make him wait a couple of
minutes.”

Though making Reese
wait seemed stupid, I slipped on the low-heeled sandals with a strap after
placing in the thin wedge I always wore then took several deep, calming
breaths. I couldn’t seem to conquer my jitters. As the murmur of Reese’s voice
came to me from down the hall, I drew in one last gulp of air. Cameras, red
carpet, and gossip didn’t matter. I was spending the evening with Reese.
Everything was worth that.

Giddy with
anticipation, I sauntered into the living room to find Jules and Reese, sipping
champagne.

Jules turned to me
first, another satisfied smile on her face. Following her gaze, Reese turned.
The stunned expression on his face was priceless. That he
set his champagne flute on the edge of the coffee table, leaving
it teetering toward the carpet, told more than his look. Luckily, Jules caught
the glass before it fell as he came over to me.

He stopped a few
feet from me. “You look amazing,” he said within in a soft rush of breath.

“You do too,” I replied,
because he did. I’d never thought I was a tux girl until him, but the man was
edible in the tailored suit.
 

“This might be the
one time I actually search for pictures on the web after an event,” he said,
coming closer. His knuckle traced my cheekbone. “Absolutely beautiful. Perhaps
we should skip the event.”

Now that sounded
like a good plan.

“Oh, I don’t think
so,” Jules said. “You’re taking this girl out. To a ball. Dinner, dancing, and
then
fireworks,” she added with a laugh.

Reese grinned, slow
and seductive. “Definite fireworks.”

I blushed like an
idiot.

Once we settled in
the limo, Reese appeared uncharacteristically nervous, tapping his thumb on his
thigh and glancing at me. “The event doesn’t start until eight. We have a bit
of time and”—I raised my brow in question since it was a tad after seven—“I
wanted to discuss something with you, so Paul is taking the long way.”

Oh no! My pulse
started thumping. He’d found out where I worked. He’d found out that Kara had
set the whole Puerto Rico thing up. I should have told him. This was it. Our
last date. No Toronto. No more lovely, growing, getting-close feelings. House
dresses and cats waited for me in the not-too-far-off future. Worse than
anything was the contemplation of no more Reese.

Wanting to start
before he did, I sat up straighter. “I—”

“Let me get this
out, all right?”

I nodded while my
stomach caved into a tight knot. This time, it wasn’t nerves. It was dread.

His thumb stopped
its tapping. “I know people—of course, I know lots of people, and I’ve built
many connections through my charity work.”

My clenched hands,
gradually loosened. Thrown for a total loop, I had no idea where he was going
with this.

“One of the areas I
immediately started supporting was education. I, um, did a bit of digging this
week into some of the colleges I’ve donated to and one of them will soon be
interviewing for a women’s assistant soccer coach.”

“You used the
influence of your donations to get me a job?” I asked slowly.

Reese shook his
head. “No. I used my influence to get you an interview.”

I blinked at him.
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”

He reached for my
hand. “I expected you not to be.” He pushed his fingers through mine. “Do you
think you’d make a good coach?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“And isn’t this what
you really want?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“In talking with the
dean, I made a couple of things extremely clear. First, my influence would
merely get you the interview, and second, the athletic director and coach, the
interviewers, would know nothing about my getting you the interview.”
 

“Oh,” I said,
digesting that information. “Still…”

His fingers
tightened on mine. “Naomi, it’s merely an interview. You and your credentials
have to do the rest. Life threw you a bad curve with the accident. This is
merely a good curve.”

We sat, holding
hands while I tried to come to terms with his offer. His gaze was taut yet
patient until I said, “All right. I’ll do the interview.”

Tension left his
expression as he smirked. “Well, that was easier than I thought.” He let go of
my hand and reached into the cooler built on the side of the other seat.
Holding out two bottled Cokes, he said, “Knowing you’d be nervous, I brought
something other than champagne to toast with.”

A giggle as if I
had
drunk several glasses of champagne
escaped me. Reese knew me so well that he was one step ahead of me. The notion
warmed me while I drank the cool, fizzy goodness from the bottle and cuddled up
to his side. The interview thing felt weird, but his thoughtfulness, his going
out of his way for me, had me giddy.

Then the car stopped
and nervousness mixed with giddiness.

Watching me, Reese
shook his head slightly. “Relax. We’ll only stop for a couple of pictures. It
will take less than three minutes.” He leaned down and gave me a quick kiss.
“For luck.”

Paul opened the door
and held out his hand for me. I stepped out into a dizzy sight of flashing
lights. Reese grabbed my hand and we made our way down the carpet, each stride
making me more lightheaded than the last. Yet with Reese holding my hand, I
smiled my way through it, even managed to turn toward him for a few shots. He
ignored the questions shouted at him, most of which had to do with who I was,
and just smiled. The three minutes were strangely both quick and long. When we
finally walked into the ballroom entrance, an immense relief came over me.

A host came over and
led us into the main room, apparently knowing who Reese was. Of course, the
host sat us at one of the front tables, and as we moved past the others, it
felt like being back on the red carpet—so many eyes were on us.

Jason and Becca, his
wife, were already waiting at the round table overflowing with flowers in the
center along with an older couple that ignored us once introductions were
finished. Waiters came over and poured wine before the lights were lowered.

The first speaker
came on the stage. Between his speech and the pictures on the screen behind him
of a variety of charity organizations, I slowly realized that the event honored
those who had donated throughout the year. I’d been so worried about the red
carpet that I must have tuned out whatever else Reese had told me about the
event. Once the introduction was over, soup was served. While we ate and conversed,
I was a bit shocked to recognize several celebrities and politicians at nearby
tables. That walk down the red carpet had landed me in a totally different
world. One I wouldn’t want to be any part of if it weren’t for Reese.

And so much for my
assumption in Puerto Rico. Reese was an awesome date. Even when he conversed
with others, he paid attention to me with a sexy glance or a soft smile or a
touch on my arm.

The night continued
in the same vein. Speakers followed by another course amid Reese’s smoldering
glances and touches. At the end of the presentation, the ten highest
contributors were announced then bestowed a standing ovation. While clapping, I
gave Reese a questioning look.

He leaned near me as
we sat and whispered, “My contributions are private. I’m not after ovations.”

I had to push my
lips together to stop a smile. I’d assumed as much. And it felt incredible that
I was truly starting to understand this complex man.

Mingling commenced
after the presentation mixed with dinner. Dancing, dessert, and cordials would
begin in the next room within the half hour according to the last announcement.
As the night progressed, I had gradually relaxed and begun to enjoy the
evening. Seriously, how could I not enjoy being with Reese?

Reese and Jason were
talking business while Becca was showing me pictures of her adorable baby boy
when someone stepped up to our table. At first, I didn’t look up, assuming the
visitor had nothing to do with me.

But a, “Hello,
Naomi,” yanked my eyes from Becca’s phone.

“I couldn’t believe
it, but I was sure it was you.” Ray Burns stood on the other side of the table,
appearing thinner than usual in a black-purple-hued tux. I didn’t recognize the
redheaded woman hanging on his arm and staring at the celebrities a table over,
but it was definitely Ray.

Oh shit.

My world suddenly
shifted—or more like crashed into reality. Reese was about to find out that I
was a fraud. Where was the ocean and a shark to swallow me whole when needed?
And what the hell was Ray doing here?

Reading my shocked
expression, Ray said, “Smith never goes to these things. He gave me his tickets
as a bonus this month.”

“Oh, how nice,” I
said, keeping my face forward.

I wanted to strangle
Smith, our boss, with every fiber of my being at that moment. I couldn’t look
at Reese as dread, cold and disseminating, expanded in my chest. The feeling
crushed me to the point where I could barely breathe. I somehow gained half my
wits and was able to introduce Ray.

My mind whirled as
he shook hands with everyone then started introducing his date. After
introductions, he would talk shop. And then I’d try to explain the obvious—that
I worked with him—away. My bumbling explanation would be swallowed up by the
truth that we both worked for Reese’s company. I’d be morbidly embarrassed.
Jason and Becca would frown at me with pity. Reese’s gaze would have a
controlled rage that would devour my heart. He’d accuse me of lying and I would
be defenseless. I’d cry, grovel, maybe even grasp the bottom of his legs as he
walked away, dragging me across the floor, my legs flopping with each step he
took.

It was ironic how I
could never imagine Reese kissing me until it finally happened, but the image
of him dragging me across the floor was quite clear.

Ray had just
finished introducing his date to mine, and the woman stared at Reese like he
was dessert. I was hyperventilating inside. Ray was frowning. And Reese looked
like he wanted someone to come to his aid.

Becca cleared her
throat. “So how do you two know each other?”

“Um, work,” I said
hesitantly.

Ray pulled his gaze
from his date’s gawking. “Yeah, Naomi and I—”

Abort. Abort. Abort. Now!

“Excuse me,” I
stammered.