15. Kimberly
KIMBERLY
Aspen was even more beautiful in the dark, if possible. The city lights were all on, and they were breathtaking. If I narrowed my eyes, I could even be tricked into thinking they were Christmas decorations. They weren't, of course—they were just celebrating winter.
"She smiles," Drake said in his low voice when we got out of the car at the restaurant.
"This place is growing on me," I said.
He offered me his arm, and I took it. The skin on my fingers singed on contact, and I pulled them back quickly.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"My hands are cold," I lied through my teeth. "I forgot my gloves at the hotel."
He nodded. "Put your left hand in your pocket." He gripped the right one, interlacing our fingers and putting them in his pocket.
Oh yeah, the zing went up a notch, or seven. I drew in a deep breath, trying to keep my composure.
As we entered the restaurant, a waiter opened the door for us.
"DuGray, for two people," Drake said.
"This way, please. You’ll get one of our best tables."
We didn't even have a reservation until a while ago; how could they possibly give us anything good?
Drake nodded. "Thank you."
I looked at Drake. He smiled in a very smug way.
"What's that?" I asked.
"What?"
"I don't know. You made a smug face."
"Happy with the table?" he asked.
"Yes. Would it have something to do with your reaction?"
"Of course."
"Drake, what did you do? Ask them to move some poor couple who’d been looking forward to a romantic dinner with a view?”
“I told them to book something great. I didn't care how that happened."
My jaw dropped. "You’re heartless. We can't let this happen." I looked around, but what exactly was I going to do? Shout throughout the restaurant to find out who’d been given a shitty table?
"Kimberly, he didn’t kick anyone out for us. He keeps tables on standby for guests who are here on a business dinner."
"Really? On Valentine's Day?" I asked.
"Aren't we doing the same?"
I drew in a short breath. "We are. Of course we are," I said, trying to keep my composure.
He came around to pull my chair out. As I sat down, he murmured in my ear, "I wanted to get a good table, for you."
"Why?" I asked as he sat down across from me. Maintaining eye contact was too unnerving, so I played with the stem of the single rose that was in the center of the table.
"Because I like to see you happy."
I laughed. He really was sweet, the perfect gentleman. "Mission accomplished. I'm not even bothered by the overwhelming Valentine's Day flair of this place."
They hadn't spared any expense. There were red roses everywhere, but they were tastefully arranged.
When had I turned against Valentine's Day?
I couldn't remember. Was it after my last amorous disappointment or perhaps the one before that?
My time in France might have influenced me.
The French are not fans of Valentine's Day.
They find it an American commercial invention.
Part of me agreed with them, and yet another part of me thought it wasn't a bad thing to dedicate a day to celebrating love.
Oh crap. I pinned Drake with my eyes. This sex-on-a-stick man was the sole reason I was even entertaining the thought of celebrating the day of love and long-term relationships.
"You look like you're having a fight with yourself," he said.
And he could read me too. This was infuriating.
I cleared my throat. "Let's order, shall we? I'm hungry."
"Deal. Wouldn't want to start a fight with you on an empty stomach. Though you can hold your own no matter what."
I glanced down at the menu, laughing under my breath. This was turning out to be the best Valentine's Day I’d had in years.
"Oh, will you look at that?” I exclaimed. “We don't have to choose. They have a fixed menu. We just have the option to choose a vegetarian or vegan entrée and point out any intolerances.” They even suggested a wine accompanying every course.
"I'll just need one glass of wine," I told him.
"Me too," Drake said.
The waiter must have sensed we were ready because he immediately approached us. He put a basket with bread and butter between us before taking our order. The second he left, I leaned over the table.
"I never understand who orders the whole accompanying list. If you drink four types of wine, you're bound to get drunk. I can barely hold my liquor after two glasses."
"You can go wild, Kimberly. I promise you're safe with me.”
I leaned back in my chair. "Am I safe with you? It doesn't seem that way."
He tilted his head. "As safe as you want to be."
I crossed and uncrossed my legs, then pressed my knees together. Drake was affecting me in all kinds of ways. I felt good tonight, wearing some seriously sexy lingerie.
But you always wear that, Kimberly, a voice said in the back of my mind. You love feeling sexy.
I did, but dressing up tonight had felt as if I was doing it for him.
I never learn from my mistakes, do I? It was bad enough that we kissed, and now we had to tiptoe around each other. Doing anything else would spell disaster.
"This is the second time tonight that you’ve seemed to be fighting with yourself. Why don't you let me help you out?" Drake asked.
I laughed nervously, taking a slice of bread and smearing it with butter. "I'm not sure you’d help. I think you would encourage the devil on my shoulder."
“If there's an angel-and-demon type of situation, I'm going to encourage the demon.”
I stretched my legs under the table. "Why? When you arrived in Chicago, you couldn't stand me."
"That's not true, Kimberly."
His leg touched mine under the table, and I didn't pull back. I needed the contact. I craved it.
"I had a biased opinion of you. That first evening, seeing you with that guy rubbed me the wrong way. But the more time passes, the more I think it's because I already considered you mine."
I gasped. "What?"
His eyes flashed. "I can't help myself. I can't not want you. I’ll thank Reese for finding an excuse not to join us."
I bit into my bread, keeping my eyes on my plate. "Figured that out, did you?”
“Your family isn't subtle.”
"They’re not," I replied. "Just thought it might take you longer to catch on."
"Kimberly." He sounded serious, so I looked up. "If this makes you uncomfortable in any way, I want you to tell me."
"It doesn’t. It's just… I don’t say this very often, but I don't know what to do."
He trained those green eyes on me, and I felt like I might melt from the sheer heat radiating off him.
"Let’s enjoy this evening. Nothing more," he stated.
Oh, that was right up my alley.
"Good, I'm dying to try the wine. Pity they don’t have any Maxwell wines."
"You never stop thinking about your family, do you?" he asked.
"No. I mean, there are so many of us that just thinking about everyone takes quite a while."
"But you don't mind?"
"Of course not. Why would I mind? They’re my family, my everything. Sometimes I wonder why I even wanted to go to Paris."
"I’ve been meaning to ask about that. You hinted before that you were… sowing your wild oats?” he asked as the waiter brought us a bottle of merlot.
He opened the bottle, pouring us just enough for a couple of sips.
I twirled my glass, sniffing it before drinking. "It's good."
“I like it too,” Drake said, then nodded for the server to pour.
He generously added to both glasses.
After he left, Drake looked at me intently.
“Where were we?" I asked.
"You were about to tell me why you moved to Paris."
I looked at the glass, searching for the right words.
Even I wasn't sure why. “While we were growing up, my cousins, Reese, and I lived in a bubble. My aunt and uncle did their best to raise us with good heads on our shoulders, and they succeeded. But still, there were always, you know, these little comments from friends and even teachers that we wouldn't have to work too hard and everything would drop into our lap.” I cleared my throat. I hated talking about my upbringing. I thanked my lucky stars for all the privileges I’d had, but people automatically thought you were different and didn’t really take the time to know you.
“They were right. The Maxwell name is well-known, especially in the Chicago area.
I appreciate the hard work my grandparents did, and also my dad, aunt, and uncle, but I started to resent those comments.
I know now that I shouldn't have paid attention to gossip, because it's one thing that will never stop, but back then, it bothered me a lot.
It made me doubt myself, and because of that, I wanted to achieve something on my own. "
“I can see that. Coming from money doesn’t mean life is easy. I think that’s a misconception most people have.” Drake’s understanding meant a lot to me.
He then said, "So you decided to cross the world to a country where people have no clue who the Maxwells are."
"Exactly. I think it did me good. I missed my family terribly, but I liked being with people who didn't know what being a Maxwell meant.
And I'm proud of all that I achieved. I started as an intern at a travel agency and worked my way up to vice president of sales. I think I would have even been VP of the company if I hadn’t messed things up with my boss. "
His eyes flashed in question. "What do you mean?"
Biting the inside of my cheek, I took a sip of wine, finding liquid courage.
Well, this is me. I’m an open book, so I might as well get this out in the open.
"I got involved with my boss. For a while, things went well. We were ‘casual.’ But for me, casual still implies exclusivity. For him, it meant we were still free to look for our next catch.”
"He cheated on you," he said in a cold voice.
"He went on a long vacation and then went radio silent. He came back one month later—married.”
Just saying it out loud still stung. Though not because I still had feelings for him, the rat bastard.
“The second he introduced his new wife, she called me his 'little friend.
' I wanted to disappear in a puff of smoke.
I couldn't get past why it hadn’t been me.
I'm not sure if I even would have wanted anything long-term with him.
But he'd been dragging me around for two years and then got married in a month to a stranger.
It just made me wonder, had I been a placeholder all along?
I hated the lack of transparency. If he would have just said, 'I don’t love you anymore' and left for vacation, that would have been easier to take than him coming back a married man. Who does that?”
"You were not a fucking placeholder," he sneered. "He wasn't man enough for you."
"That's a very sweet way to put it," I said, trying not to feel melancholy.
"I mean it in every way. So that's why you're not a fan of Valentine’s Day.”
Our waiter came with the appetizers: vegetable spring rolls and fried chicken strips. It was an odd combination, but it somehow worked, especially because the plate arrangement was very elegant.
“Anyway," I continued once the waiter was gone, "what that experience taught me is that there are imbeciles everywhere, home or abroad.
The great part of being home is that you have your family to lean on, to be spoiled, and just to feel surrounded by love.
I knew then that I didn't want to be there for too long after. We ended up getting a new boss, so I stayed on for a few more months, but I’d already made up my mind.
I wanted to be closer to my family. My sister had gone through a rough time, and I hadn't been there for her. I wanted to change that.”
"To being together with family," he said, holding up his glass of wine.
I clinked mine against his, and for a brief second, I felt like this wasn’t real.
Was this a scene from a movie? It definitely didn't feel like my life. I was at an elegant restaurant on Valentine’s Day with a man who cared about his family as much as I cared about mine. Things like that never happened to me.
Drake isn’t for you, Kimberly, no matter how much you like him. He’s the general manager at Maxwell Hotels. If he leaves, like the last one, Travis will be in a pinch again.
The last thing I wanted was to cause an issue.
For our main course, I had roasted chicken breast with mashed potatoes and a cranberry dip. He had veal with carrots and pea puree. The very best part was the dessert—they brought us three types of cheesecake.
"Was it hard for you to relocate to Chicago?" I asked.
"No, I knew I wanted to be near my sister. I wasn’t happy when I arrived, but now I’m starting to like the city. A certain feisty brunette is contributing to that.”
"Drake…." My body tensed. I tucked in my tummy as I held my breath.
“I'm not sure what you’re doing to me, but it brought us here, and I have zero regrets.”
He looked different from that first evening at the bar. He’d been on edge. Now he seemed more relaxed. I could definitely sense things had shifted for him—and I was responsible for that? Hell yes, I'd take the credit.
"I'm glad," I murmured sincerely.
"I'm pretty sure this weekend is going to bump Aspen up to being one of my favorite places."
I swallowed the last bite of cheesecake and took a sip of my second glass of wine. For some reason, it wasn't doing anything to soothe my nerves tonight. Am I more nervous than usual, or does this just have very low alcohol content?
"You expect that sleeping on a cot is going to make your weekend?"
"Being in the company of the same feisty brunette will do that."
Wow, this man. And to think I'd considered him a brute with no manners when I first met him.
"Are you ready to head back to the hotel?" he asked.
I nodded. The wine might not have had any effect, but it had been a long day, and I was exhausted, ready to turn in for the night.
That was until I realized turning in for the night would mean sharing a suite with Drake. And just like that, adrenaline coursed through my veins.
He grabbed our coats from the designated room, holding mine for me while I put my scarf around my neck.
Even though my dress had long sleeves, I felt his fingers on my arm when he helped me with my coat, like they were drumming on bare skin.
I closed each button carefully as Drake put a hand on my middle back, walking me out of the restaurant.
The second we were outside, he took my hand, just as before, and put it in his pocket.
Warmth billowed inside me. He'd remembered. My defenses were melting around me.
"Shall we pretend this is a business dinner and call Travis from the hotel?" He trapped my gaze with his, and I knew this was a very important milestone. If I said yes, we could go ahead and pretend we were two work colleagues talking about their days. If I didn't, it would be a date.
I shook my head. "No business talk tonight."