The Executive Page 7

  “Actually, dinner is part of the evening. Then some sort of silly awards and a live band for dancing. I’ll probably come home before that.”

  “Oh, Kira-girl,” her dad said from the background, his voice rumbling through the speaker. “Dance at least once, for me.”

  Emotions caught at Kira’s throat.

  “Okay, dad, just for you. And I’ll imagine it’s you swinging me around the room like we used to.”

  “Perfect. Have fun. Forget about us. Forget about your worries and just enjoy.”

  “I haven’t seen most of these people in ten years. Remember, I was away at school for so many of those years. Now it’s vague acquaintance waves at Walgreen’s or the gas station.”

  “Things are so different now,” her mother said wistfully.

  A few days earlier, she’d been tagged in a private Facebook page where her old classmates were discussing the reunion and people were chiming in on whether they were going or not. Who was meeting up with whom? Which spouses were coming? So many of them were married! The fact made her feel like a spinster.

  “Nothing like happily married classmates with adorable children to make a girl feel even lonelier,” she said aloud while cleaning out her handbag to take the bare essentials, like her wallet and lipstick.

  It was like Kira was a late bloomer. Not living up to her potential. Falling so far behind in her degree and career. It was going to be painful chatting around the dinner table to announce that she was waitressing for a living.

  It made her feel a tiny bit better to know that there were a few old classmates still in grad school or medical school. Several had moved out of state, although she had noticed that some of the cheerleaders and football players were flying in and meeting up for cocktails beforehand.

  Even Sally wrote a message in one of the conversation threads, requesting everyone to dedicate a dance to her since she had a nursing baby.

  Parking was twenty bucks for the evening, and Kira had to walk a block to The Hotel Monaco, threading her way around concrete islands and low hanging trees, her eyes on the lights at the circular entrance.

  A wave of self-consciousness swept over her as the bell boy asked if she had luggage.

  “No, I’m here for the Southfield High School Reunion.”

  “That’ll be in the Grand Ballroom. Straight past the front desk, turn right and go all the way to the end of the hall,” he instructed.

  The closer she got, her heels quiet on the hotel’s plush carpet, Kira heard the noise of music and the sound of a lot of people talking.

  A table sat outside the open double doors. Inside, were more tables set with flowers, china, and silver. A band was warming up on the stage. More than two hundred people were attaching name tags to their lapels, milling about, and talking a mile a minute.

  She hardly recognized anyone at first, and then some faces began to focus back into old classmates. The girls had become women, the boys, men. Mature, wearing glittering gowns and suits, some in tuxedos.

  So many she did not recognize. Might be spouses or significant others.

  “Name, please—and your ticket?” the woman at the table asked when Kira walked up. Not a flicker of recognition and Kira didn’t try to figure out if she knew her. She was a platinum blonde with false eyelashes. Including a breast enhancement that had been too exuberant.

  It might be more comfortable if she just pretended she was at a cocktail party with strangers.

  “Ticket,” Kira repeated quietly, pretending to rummage through her purse. “I’m afraid I forgot to purchase one.”

  “Oh, dear. We’re booked up. You had to have a reservation.”

  Kira bit at her lips and tried not to show her alarm while keeping her stupidity at a low profile. She hadn’t read the announcement closely enough.

  “I guess I thought we could pay at the door,” she finally said. “I didn’t realize . . .” her voice trailed off.

  The woman gave her a brief look of empathy. “Let me check and see if we’ve had any cancellations.” She turned away to consult with another woman, tall and heavy-set, who was apparently in charge and giving orders right and left to her committee.

  Panic rose up Kira’s throat. She hadn’t brought her checkbook or a credit card with her, either. Stupid! Dad had had a bad day, and she’d spent her morning over there, helping her mother who was getting more scatter-brained by the day. But she was the scatter-brained one today.

  “Kira Bancroft?” A voice called out from the other end of the registration table.

  She swiveled her head, and there was a former member of her choir class smiling widely at Kira. She rose from her chair and leaned over the table to hug Kira.

  “Allison,” Kira said, the name coming just in the nick of time. “You look fabulous.”

  “Well, thanks. You’re looking pretty darn good yourself. We graduated ten years ago, not three, girl.”

  “Very funny, but thank you. I think I’ve earned every single year and then some,” Kira said with a laugh. Allison Park had also sung soprano, and they’d been in the special audition-only Madrigal group. A group of about fifteen of the best singers who got to put on their own Christmas performance and perform at churches and festivals. Those were some of Kira’s best high school memories.

  “We have a great turn-out tonight. Go on in and find a table for dinner. Want to sit together so we can catch up?”

  “Sure,” Kira said. “But I forgot to order a ticket. And they say it’s sold out. I feel like such an idiot.”

  Allison shook her head. “No, there’s a ticket for you. I swear there is. I was in charge of registration, and I’m sure I saw one with your name on it.”

  “Well, you couldn’t have. I didn’t purchase one. But if there’s room and I can do an IOU, I’d love to stay. I mean, hey, I dressed up and put on makeup for the occasion.”

  Allison’s laugh rang out. “To get away from my one-year old twin’s spitting up and the endless laundry is a true luxury. I feel like I’m a real person again tonight. I plan on dancing all night with my husband. I’ll point him out as soon as registration is done. Okay, we got side-tracked. Let me find your registration. . .” she said, narrowing her eyes to snatch up the A – F box.

  “You’re very sweet, but I know there’s not a ticket—”

  “Aha! Here it is! I knew I’d seen your name.”

  She flourished it under Kira’s nose. Sure enough, the envelope had Kira Bancroft in gold print with little flourishes on either end of her first and last names.

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Maybe you forgot.”

  “No, I didn’t. Unless I’m losing my mind and everyone forgot to tell me.”

  Allison flipped the registration card over. “You signed up for the filet mignon meal—no vegetarian for you—and,” she squinted. “Looks like Caleb Davenport did the registration.”

  “Caleb Davenport?” Kira blinked.

  Allison leaned forward. “You and he have a thing going?” She glanced pointedly at Kira’s left hand. “No ring I see.”

  Kira raised her head, hoping Allison hadn’t assumed she was married and was having an affair. How embarrassing. “No, we don’t have a thing.”

  She snapped her mouth shut when her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Caleb Davenport was gazing at her across the foyer, standing just opposite the open double doors.

  She stared back, giving him a small glare with her eyes.

  Before she could take another breath, Caleb strode across the floor, slipping around the crowd pinning on name tags. Three seconds later, he stood before her, all six feet three inches of him, broad shoulders, shining deep blue eyes, and a sexy smile to boot.

  Kira gulped, trying to breathe again. “What are you doing?”

  “Attending my—our—high school reunion.”

  Waving the registration envelope in front of his face, Kira said, “And what’s all this? Don’t you think I can pay for my own registration?”<
br />
  “Of course, I think you can. But I wasn’t sure you’d get the info in time, and the deadline had already passed when I saw you last week at Rossi’s. So I made sure you weren’t turned away.”

  “You—you—” Kira didn’t know what to say. “I’m going to pay you back, you know.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t. I know waitresses don’t make that much. Even at Rossi’s.”

  Kira rose up to her full height. Five feet ten with heels so she could practically look Caleb in the eye. “I support myself. Besides, you gave me a big enough tip to pay for ten reunion registrations.”

  “That was for terrific dining service.”

  Kira let out an uncomfortable laugh. “I’m sure you tip like that all the time—not.”

  “As a matter of fact, he does,” Troy said, appearing behind Caleb’s shoulder. “He’s obnoxiously generous, this old boy.”

  A sheepish expression crossed Caleb’s face.

  “I’m going to get you back, Caleb Davenport,” Kira said, shaking the envelope at him.

  He shrugged and crooked his elbow at her. “If we don’t go in now we’ll get terrible seats in the back,” he told her.

  Troy nodded knowingly. “The band is excellent. Not sure where they imported them from. All the music of the 90’s and the new millennium—our very own era. I hope you plan on kicking up your heels, Kira.”

  “Do you guys actually dance?” she teased when they entered the ballroom. “Most men never learn. They turn in a simple circle around and around and try not to step on their date’s toes.”

  “So harsh,” Troy burst out. “You’ve wounded Caleb and me. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

  The room engulfed Kira with its lights and noise and chatter. The band was playing a mash-up of All my Life by K-Ci and Jo-Jo. The emotions of the song swelled around Kira, bringing back a flood of memories.

  Everyone was dressed so elegantly, you’d never dream that ten years ago they were high-schoolers with dyed blue hair and ripped jeans.

  Crystal chandeliers dropped from the ceiling in a sparkle of light. On one-half tables were laid for dinner, waiters preparing to serve. On the other half of the room, a dance floor waited for dancing. The band’s opening number turned to soft, dreamy music for a dinner ambiance.

  Kira felt a light pressure on her back, as Caleb’s fingers guided her to an empty table at the far wall. “Will that be all right?” he asked. It was in a slightly quieter spot so they could talk and not be right in the middle of the noise and crowds.

  The tinkling sound of silver cutlery and crystal goblets rose as the attendees began to sit. Behind them, nearly the length of the room mounted professionally created photographs of the mountains and the lights of downtown Denver decorated the wall.

  While they wove their way through the tables, heads turned in their direction. Guests watching while Caleb pulled out a chair for Kira.

  Voices murmured, “Is that Caleb Davenport?”

  Two women gossiped under their breaths when Kira passed their table, but the words carried to her ears despite the weak attempt to lower their voices.

  “Couldn’t be him. He was such a loser back in high school. Got into trouble, too, from what I hear.”

  “A total geek, but the ugly duckling turned into a hunk of a man!”

  “Are you sure that’s Caleb Davenport?” somebody else asked.

  “Hard to believe, huh? He lived on the next street over when we grew up so I can vouch that yes, that gorgeous man you see is Caleb. The one and only.”

  “Maybe I got married too soon.”

  The women giggled, and then their laughter was smothered by napkins.

  Kira glanced at Caleb from the corner of her eye, but he appeared not to have heard the various exchanges.

  Was he just a good actor? Words like that could go to a person’s head, but Caleb didn’t seem like he had a big ego. He didn’t strut around like he owned the place or knew he was probably the best-looking man in the room. In fact, just the opposite.

  Caleb pulled out her chair, and Kira sank into the cushioned seat, grateful to be out of range of the other classmates staring at them.

  Kira noted that if she needed to, she could escape along this side wall and nobody would even know she’d slipped away. She wouldn’t have to bump into another chair or table to leave.

  Why was she always casing a place for an easy escape route? It was something she’d done ever since she’d dropped out of grad school.

  Flashes of her professor’s faces crossed her mind when she told them she was leaving school. Probably for good. The disappointment, the urging to stay and finish. The plea to find scholarships so she could continue. But finances were only part of the problem. She was the only one that helped her mother stay sane during the long months of hospitalization while her father hovered between life and death.

  “Do you know if Jasmine Cervantes is here?” Troy asked, taking a chair against the wall, so he had a full view of the room. “I was hoping to see her. We had a lot of math classes together.”

  “Do I suspect you’re eager to turn back the clock tonight?” Kira said with a knowing smile.

  “The less you know, the better, Miss Bancroft,” Troy said, lifting his chin at her with a cheeky grin.

  She grinned in return. “I think I only ever had one class with Jasmine when we were freshmen, and that was gym class with the battle-ax, Ms. Sullivan. I think she was retired army. We were always doing sit-ups and calisthenics. She’d order fifty push-ups when we talked too much.”

  “Sounds like my old sergeant. Sergeant Manning,” Caleb said. “I swear he was a masochist.”

  “You were in the army?” Kira was surprised. “Computer geeks don’t usually enlist in the armed services, do they?”

  Caleb gave a slight grimace, and immediately Kira regretted her flippant assumptions. He wiped away the expression so fast, she wondered a second later if she’d only imagined it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that—”

  He brushed away her apology. “Yep, I was in for four years right out of high school. Computer software tech. Cracked some spy codes.” His eyebrows wagged in a teasing way.

  “Any special reason you joined up?”

  He lifted his shoulders, and Kira got the feeling he didn’t want to talk about it much. “Wanted to see the world. Got the wanderlust itch. Now I travel all the time and am coming to despise it.”

  “Business travel is so different than pleasure travel.”

  “Have you traveled a lot, Kira?” Caleb asked. When he said her name, her breath caught again. His voice was deep and masculine, definitely all male.

  She cleared her throat to pull herself together so she could answer his question. “Other than studying in New York for a few years, I’ve never been out of the Rocky Mountains and only flew once to Disneyland when I was eight. While at college I didn’t do much besides studying and practicing. I’m the most sheltered person you’ve ever met.”

  “Sheltered has its advantages,” Caleb said. “Its own comforts if you have a great family.” There was an unspoken message behind Caleb’s eyes. Was he referencing something in particular? Family drama, personal drama?

  Perhaps she was imagining it.

  Then a horrible idea struck her.

  “Caleb—” she stopped, and then plunged ahead. It was better to know for sure rather than torturing herself wondering. “Please tell me you’re not married.”

  He’d just taken a sip from his water glass and choked, grabbing at his napkin. “Married? Why would you ask that? Am I giving off some kind of weird vibe?”

  She bit at her lips, trying not to blush. “Not exactly, just wanted to get it out on the table. Because if you were, I’d be saying goodbye right now.”

  Caleb reached out to touch her fingers that were curled around her glass. Kira shivered, a response that didn’t come from the ice water. She noted that Troy was gazing at them both as if attempting to decipher what was happening between t
hem.

  Caleb’s eyes sought hers again and held them, the ocean color of his irises turning a deep blue under the muted chandelier light. “I am most definitely not married. But I’d like to be someday.”

  Chapter 11

  There was a moment of silence while she watched his fingers slide down the side of her hand clinging to her glass and then away. It was a touch of reassurance, but Kira merely experienced another lightning bolt electrifying her body at his touch.

  She swallowed hard and tried not to show how knocked off kilter she was by him.

  “You know that Caleb used to flip houses, right?” Troy’s question was unexpected, changing the subject from travel and marriage, and allowing Kira the time she needed to regain her composure.

  “Actually, I know nothing about Caleb Davenport. I keep mentioning that.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Troy said, knowingly nodding his head.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Kira gave Troy a small punch in the shoulder. She felt only rock-hard muscle and was impressed that he was still in such good shape after retiring from football and sitting on airplanes and at computers most of his time.

  “Just teasing you,” Troy answered. “You’re kind of easy to tease.”

  The sense of being off balanced persisted. Mousy, quiet, Kira Bancroft was seated between two of the most gorgeous guys in the entire room. Nobody had paid that much attention to her in high school. She had hung out with Sally, studied, got good grades, practiced the piano three hours a day, helped her mother with dinner, played basketball with her brothers. The all-around ordinary girl. Nothing special.

  Except she could still hear her father’s words after a practice session on the family upright.

  He’d come into the room after a long session practicing scales followed by Bach, Beethoven, Mozart and then Rachmaninoff, and place his hands on her shoulders to kiss the top of her head. “You are one talented girl. I love listening to you.”

  “All dads are supposed to say that.”

  “Maybe. But I know enough classical music to know that it’s true.”

  When Kira glanced up again, Caleb said, “You look a million miles away. Are we bad company?”