For the Love of a SEAL, page 17
The elevator doors slid open, and Tori strode across the lobby and down a short hallway where a maître d’ stood behind a podium just inside the restaurant entrance.
“May I help you?” The man’s British accent flowed pleasingly over her frazzled nerves.
“I’m meeting David Donovan, party of three. Has he arrived yet?”
“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Donovan is in the bar. If you’d like to join him there, I’ll let you know as soon as your table is ready.” The maître d’ tipped his head toward a dimly lit room to her right.
“Thank you.” Tori straightened her shoulders, brushed away her sense of dread and marched into the bar. Right away, David Donovan stood and waved to her from a table in the center of the room. She started toward him, forcing a smile.
When she reached him, he greeted her with a warm handshake and pulled out her chair. “Where’s our hero?” His emphasis on the last word grated on her innate sense of respect for all military men and women.
Tori seated herself, while trying to ignore the annoyance generated by his reference to Blake in such a flippant manner. “He’ll be here any moment.”
“Excellent.” Donovan pushed her chair in and sat next to her. “My friend, the manager, just came by to say they’ve overbooked a couple seven o’clock time slots, and it might be thirty minutes or so before we get a table.” Clearly irritated, he frowned at the cocktail waitress, who stopped at their table and asked if they wanted drinks.
Super! A thirty-minute wait with Donovan and still no sign of Blake. “I’d like a gin and tonic, please.”
“Make mine bourbon neat.”
After the waitress left with their orders, Donovan’s cell phone chirped, and he lifted it from the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket and glanced at the screen. “I had the car brought around. We’re going down the street to another place I know where they don’t screw up the reservations.”
“But…we just ordered a drink and Blake isn’t here yet. I don’t mind waiting a few minutes for a table.” Tori despised impatience, and rudeness to waitstaff was right up there with lying.
“I do mind.” Donovan scraped his chair as he got to his feet. “I’ll send the car back for Sorenson.” He held out his hand to help her up.
Tori stared at the man beside her, who was so obviously ready to make a scene because of a restaurant employee’s mistake. If she refused, would she only make it worse?
A warm palm touched her back, between her shoulder blades, and Blake leaned close to brush a kiss on her temple. “You left without me, sweetheart. Sorry I’m late.” He turned toward Donovan and offered his hand. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.” His deep, rich voice calmed Tori.
After a few beats delay, Donovan shook Blake’s hand, then signaled for the cocktail waitress before pulling a smile for Tori, easing the frustration from his face. “No problem. I was just telling Tori there was some confusion with our reservation. She was gracious enough to say she didn’t mind waiting. I hope you agree.”
“Of course.” Blake moved to the other side of Tori and sat, reaching for her hand.
Tori let him enfold her fingers gladly, glancing at Donovan as he resumed his seat. What just happened? Had she missed something? A second before Blake joined them, Donovan had all but insisted they go somewhere else. Blake’s arrival had seemed to change Donovan’s mind without another word being said.
The waitress brought Tori’s and Donovan’s drinks. Blake ordered a beer and leaned back, his shoulder brushing Tori’s. With him so close, she was able to reevaluate the situation and relax.
The thirty minutes sped by with Blake answering Donovan’s questions as the editor delved deeper into Blake’s military career than she had. Grudgingly, she had to admit she should have asked many of those questions and that perhaps Donovan was an experienced journalist who could teach her a thing or two. If she wanted to succeed in the business, she would need all the help she could get.
Once they were seated in the dining area, their orders taken, Tori turned to Blake. “How many lives would you say your actions saved over your fifteen-year career as a Navy SEAL?” From the corner of her eye she saw Donovan nodding his approval.
Blake smiled at her, but she didn’t miss the brief flash of pain in his eyes. “SEALs work as a team. Anyone I had a hand in saving could be claimed just as legitimately by every member of the team…so, I hope you’re not disappointed to learn I didn’t keep a running tally.”
On the contrary. Each time she learned something new about this man, she admired him more. The guy was too good to be true, if she didn’t count the whole military issue that made her avoid his type. That was still just as relevant as it was before they’d had sex all afternoon. Tori felt Blake’s gaze on her as a wave of heat enveloped her. Good Lord. All he had to do was look at her, smile or wink and she was a goner. He wasn’t playing fair, and she had to get a handle on her runaway emotions before Isaiah suffered any adverse effects.
“What about deaths you couldn’t prevent? Aside from the enemy you targeted, I mean. Did you run a tally on them?” Donovan voiced the question in all seriousness, and his narrowed eyes stared into Blake’s.
Silence reigned for a few seconds as Blake studied the other man. “Most were due to team fails…but there are a few I take sole responsibility for.”
“And what does that mean exactly—taking responsibility for them?” The mood at the table changed as Donovan pressed Blake further.
A shadow crossed Blake’s visage. “Those are the ones I carry with me every day of my life. The ones I dream about when I wake up screaming…wishing the result could be different, but it never changes. Two years of anger management classes twice a week didn’t come close to helping me live with myself, knowing I failed them.”
Blake swept a cautious glance toward Tori, and she recognized the guilt that seemed to possess him, and something else, shame, maybe. His meaning was clear in that brief glimpse into his soul. She’d been right not to trust him completely. He did suffer from the same malady that killed her husband. Sure, he’d adjusted better to civilian life. He had his friends, his trees and his aircraft. But the need to forget lurked just beneath the surface.
I don’t want him to be right.
Donovan held up his hands. “Sorry. It wasn’t my intention to strike a nerve. Your selfless service to our country is enough. Let’s just leave it at that. Can I get anyone another drink?” He signaled for the waitress before anyone answered and made a circular motion with his finger.
Two minutes later, another round of drinks sat in front of them. Tori drank hers quickly, hoping the burn of alcohol would somehow erase the regret stamped on Blake’s forehead.
Donovan prattled on, oblivious to the cloud that had fallen over Blake’s side of the table. Tori would have given anything to go back and not ask the question that had started them down that road. It was almost as though his pain was hers as well. Her throat ached from holding back tears that no one would understand. She was relieved when Donovan moved the conversation to the magazine publishing business and spoke animatedly about the upcoming special edition which would include Blake’s interview.
Tori was able to ask the right questions to keep him talking and was impressed by Donovan’s passion and attention to detail that seemed to pervade every aspect of the business he’d started as a twenty-one-year-old college graduate. That achievement alone spoke of his intelligence and determination.
Blake seemed to shake off his dark mood gradually, rejoining the conversation as smoothly as he’d left. When they were finished eating, he rested his hand on her thigh under cover of the tablecloth. His touch set off a maelstrom of reactions in her body, all of them good but highly inappropriate for dinner with her new boss. She rotated her head to study Blake, and relief brought out her smile at the twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
The waitress removed their empty plates and brought the ticket for Donovan to sign. “Hey, darlin’, we’re going to retire to the bar, so be a good girl and bring us another round in there, okay?” He handed her a hundred-dollar tip.
Blake held up his hand and shook his head. “You and Tori have business to discuss, and I don’t need to be involved. I’m going to bail…if Tori’s okay with that.” He turned his head to look at her.
No. She still hadn’t decided what she would tell Donovan. Two drinks in quick succession had relaxed her…but also relegated her brain to about half a step behind her tongue. She needed more time. She needed to broach the subject of moving to Isaiah. And she desperately needed Blake’s opinion.
Giving voice to that would make her look like a foolish child in front of the man she might be working for. The three hundred dollars and some change she had in her checking account blinked through her memory like a neon bar light. She needed the job. Besides, Blake had done enough for her, and he had plenty to juggle without being her security blanket too.
She smiled. “Of course. We’ll be talking work hours and 401(k)s. You’d be bored stiff.” Tori immediately regretted her choice of words when his eyes caught a humorous sparkle.
He leaned toward her and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “Check in later,” he whispered.
* * * *
Apparently, David Donovan could be a charmer when he tried. He’d beguiled Tori into thinking the job he offered was almost the best thing that’d ever happened to her. The pay was phenomenal, the benefits, like health insurance and vacation, were extremely generous, and a flexible work schedule was a dream come true for a single mom. There was no way she could turn it down.
Yet doubts lingered. Not about the job…but the man. There was something about him that made her draw back if he got in her space, shrink away when he touched her accidentally. She couldn’t pinpoint a reason for her reactions. Donovan was attentive to her questions and concerns. She didn’t get any weird vibes from him to indicate he might use his power and position to gain sexual favors. He seemed genuinely nice. And he was easy on the eyes. So, what was her problem?
Donovan signaled the server and ordered yet another round of drinks. “I’m going to convince you Everyday Heroes magazine is the place for you if we have to sit here drinking all night.”
Tori laughed, already feeling the slowed thinking process and weakness in her extremities from the first three drinks. “I think I’ve had enough, Mr. Donovan. I better stick to water.”
“Oh, no.” Donovan wagged his finger at her as their server placed the new order on the table and hurried away. “I’m not going to be the only one drinking.” With a grin, he lifted his glass. “To new beginnings, Tori.”
It was the fourth…or maybe fifth toast he’d made in an effort to influence her decision. Reluctantly, Tori clinked glasses and swallowed a sip of her gin and tonic.
He frowned. “How many times have I asked you not to call me Mr. Donovan? I’m not nearly old enough for that distinction. Call me David. Please.”
“All right, David. It’s getting late. We should call it a night. I’d like to sleep on your offer.” Maybe tomorrow, when she was sober, she could figure out why her gut was telling her not to jump into this. “Just give me twenty-four hours and I’ll have an answer for you.”
“Oh, hell, Tori.” He issued an exasperated sigh. “There’s nothing I hate worse than waiting for the phone to ring. At least let me call you. Wait—you said you lost your phone. Have you replaced it yet?”
“I haven’t had time, but Blake loaned me one temporarily.”
“Great. What’s the number?” Donovan grabbed a cocktail napkin. “Got a pen?”
Tori shuffled through her purse, strangely hesitant to give the man her new information, considering the reservations she was having after spending the evening with him. “I’m sorry. I don’t seem to have one.”
“That’s okay.” He smirked as he seized his phone from the pocket of his jacket. “This’ll work better, anyway. Your number?” His fingers were poised to dial.
Tori groaned. All of her senses were screaming no, yet if she took the job, he’d need to be able to reach her. Why the reluctance?
Because I need time to think, and I need to take back some control in this life gone crazy. That’s why.
Maybe her mind was simply too sluggish, but she couldn’t come up with a single way to refuse him without offending him and almost certainly losing out on the job offer altogether.
As soon as he punched in her number, her phone buzzed. She snatched it from the side pocket of her purse and declined the call, forcing a smile. “It won’t do any good to call me, David. Do you really think there’s anything you haven’t already said to convince me to accept your offer?”
Donovan studied her for a moment as though considering her words. “Maybe there’s nothing I haven’t said, but there is something I haven’t done.” He downed his bourbon, pulled out his wallet and threw some money on the table. “Let’s go. I’m going to show you your new office. If that doesn’t make you decide to say yes, nothing will.”
“Tonight?” Tori forced a laugh. Hell no, she wasn’t going anywhere with him tonight. The idea of being stuck in a high-rise building with him, alone, creeped her out. She took another drink to keep those very words from blurting out.
“I’m not taking no for an answer. Come on. Finish your drink. Let’s go.” He was standing behind his chair now, impatiently waiting for her to comply, and he didn’t appear to be joking.
The tiniest hint of fear permeated her dulled senses. She took another drink to give her hands something to do.
Tori pushed her chair back and stood as Donovan ambled around the table toward her, a speculative gleam in his eyes. She swayed unsteadily, reaching out to grab the edge of the table until her equilibrium returned.
“I’ve got you.” Donovan latched on to her elbow and threw his other arm around her shoulders. “Ready to go?”
“No.” He was in her space again, and Tori hated being manhandled. She tried to keep the alarm from her voice but wasn’t entirely sure she succeeded. “I mean…I need to use the ladies’ room before we go.” Why was he suddenly in such a hurry?
“I’ll help you—”
“No.” She shrugged his arm off. “I don’t need help finding the bathroom, David. I’ve been doing it on my own for a long time.”
A doubtful smile curved his mouth, but he stepped back, hands raised in surrender. Was it only her imagination, or did something sinister flash in his eyes?
Tori grabbed her purse but left her sweater hanging over the chair next to hers. Turning, she strode toward the bathrooms. It took all her concentration to put one foot in front of the other and walk a straight line. Even then, she was sure everyone was watching her stagger across the room, and, for sure, she could feel Donovan’s eyes following her progress. Damn it! Why’d I drink so much? She was a lightweight when it came to alcohol, yet she’d consumed three cocktails and nursed a fourth. Now, when she needed to be alert and cautious, she felt like a wrecking ball, swinging out of control.
Reaching the alcove where the bathrooms were tucked away, Tori ventured a glance over her shoulder. Luck was with her so far. Donovan had turned his back with his phone to his ear. Gathering her courage, she veered away from the ladies’ room door and charged into the next closest avenue of escape—the kitchen.
Without slowing down, she wound through the cooks, waitresses and dishwashers, many of whom apparently spoke only Spanish and thought her appearance in their refuge was humorous. “Con permiso.” She plastered a smile on her face as she hurried by, repeating one of the half dozen Spanish phrases she remembered from high school.
To her relief, no one tried to stop her or deter her from her goal, the back door, propped open, no doubt, to combat the sweltering heat of the kitchen. Just before she crossed the threshold, Tori peeked over her shoulder. Donovan was nowhere to be seen. No one had followed her or seemed the least bit interested in her movements.
Had she overreacted? Her judgment had been impaired by alcohol. What was she thinking? Just because Donovan ordered them didn’t mean she had to drink them. Nerves and excitement had contributed to her lack of self-control, but she was an adult, and wanting to make a good impression was no excuse for abandoning her usually strict rules.
In the darkness of the alley, she paused to take stock of her surroundings. The smells of discarded food from the garbage dumpsters against the building got her moving again. The chill in the air helped clear her head, and she started to second-guess herself. What if she’d made a huge mistake? She had no evidence Donovan had wanted to whisk her away from the hotel with some ulterior motive in mind. He’d been a perfect gentleman, only interested in getting her to accept his job offer. The events of the past couple of days had made her jumpy, understandably so, but perhaps she’d let her overactive imagination run away with her.
Yet, the prickling of the skin at the base of her neck persisted.
She left the alley and found a side entrance into the hotel. Locked! It took her a few seconds to remember the key card she’d placed in her purse, and a few minutes after that, she finally located it, jammed it in the slot and turned the handle.
The warmth and silence enveloped her, but she wasn’t home free yet. Whatever sixth sense told her to get out of the restaurant before Donovan hauled her away to his office building now prompted her to make good her escape before the persistent man realized she was gone and started looking for her. She rejected the elevator in favor of the stairs. Pushing past the heavy door, she halted for a moment, studying the zigzagging flights of stairs that seemed to stretch upward as far as she could see. A whole lot of gin still coursed through her veins, turning her brain to mush and her legs to Jell-O.
