Chapter 8 #2
Wow. They really had no idea about her past. Or what she did for a living. She looked at Leland. “You haven’t told them anything about me, have you?”
“No,” he said, crossing his arms. He didn’t look happy. Which is why his next words shocked her. “Unfortunately, she’s right. She will look much more natural at this party than any of us.”
She should be ashamed of herself for how much she enjoyed Jason’s baffled expression.
It was cute. But he deserved an explanation.
“I’ve been to more of these types of parties than I care to count.
It’s a long story, but the short version is that my current employer is Archibald Grayhouse and his wife, Vivian. ”
Jason and Knox exchanged a look. Then they both looked at Leland, who shrugged his shoulders. “It wasn’t any of your business. Until now.”
“You know the Grayhouses?” Tayla asked.
Jason nodded. “We know the name. They’ve hired Whiterock a couple of times. I’ve never worked with them, though.”
“Well, if this is settled, I need to find a dress. And rest assured,” she looked at Knox, “I won’t go ‘all fan-girl’ on anyone.”
Jason looked miserable.
“Hey.” She tried to coax his eyes to hers. “There are several boutiques just off the lobby. I won’t even leave the building.”
“I know. But Tayla, tonight could be dangerous.”
“So is waiting in a locked hotel room. I learned that yesterday.”
Jason stiffened.
Oh. She didn’t mean to strike a nerve. She tried to gentle her tone. “Look, I’m not one hundred percent safe anywhere, but you and Knox and Leland will be in the same room with me. How could I be any safer?”
Tayla noticed Knox watching the two of them.
When the conversation paused, Knox waved his hand from Jason to Tayla and back to Jason. “Keep talking. Don’t mind us.”
Jason glared at Knox. “You and Leland recon the ballroom area where the party will be tonight.”
“Sure. In a minute.” He waved his hand between them again. “Right now, I’m enjoying myself. I want to see how this plays out.”
Jason flexed his hands and Tayla prayed he wasn’t about to hit Knox. She wasn’t sure whether they’d crossed the boundary of the friendly-banter-zone.
“There’s nothing to watch,” Jason said. “We’re going dress shopping. You two recon the ballroom level.” His commanding tone returned, but Tayla didn’t mind. She had to swallow a laugh when he barked out, “we’re going dress shopping” like they were invading a country.
Knox gave a mock salute. Leland rolled his eyes.
Rowan just shook his head. “It won’t bother me if you guys leave. I can get more done with some quiet.”
She grabbed her purse and met Jason at the door. She’d never been dress shopping with a bodyguard before. This should be interesting.
Tayla considered the four evening gowns hanging next to the full-length mirror. The boutique owner knew her craft. She was friendly, polite, and listened intently to Tayla’s description of what she needed. In less than five minutes, she’d brought four strong contenders to Tayla’s dressing room.
Tayla tried the red one first. She adored the color, but when the swirling patterns of sequence caught the light from the dressing room chandelier, the dress looked . . . loud. Gorgeous, but not what she needed for tonight.
Maybe something attractive, yet sophisticated.
She picked up a black dress with spaghetti straps and a hint of shimmer. This looks promising.
She hoped Jason wasn’t making the boutique owner uncomfortable.
Most men who accompanied women to a shop like this were husbands or boyfriends who fit into one of two categories: 1) happy to park in a chair and stare at their phone, or 2) overly interested, making requests to the boutique associate, and insisting to see every dress tried on.
Jason fit into neither. He paced.
She watched the shadow of his legs pass under the door to her dressing room over and over. First one direction, then the other. She felt like royalty for a moment—with her sentry marching to and fro at the gate of her castle.
Okay, Tayla, concentrate. He’s only here because of the incredible danger surrounding all of you.
Her thoughts drifted to yesterday. And to Leland.
She’d been so angry that he’d lied to her about his true occupation. But Jason and Knox were both right. She knew he concocted a cover story to keep her from worrying about him.
She’d done the same thing. And he still didn’t know. How hypocritical could she be? Guilt bubbled up in her chest.
Leland had always been so reliable. Her rock. She could never bring herself to show him the ugliest parts of her past. She didn’t want him to worry. Or to judge her for her mistake. The mistake that nearly cost her life.
She’d told herself so many times that she let Leland believe the lie about Spence to spare her dear uncle from worry. But if she was honest, her pride kept her from telling the whole story.
He’d looked so apologetic yesterday when her anger flared about him lying to her. The remorse in his eyes wrapped her in another layer of shame.
Yes, she knew exactly why he lied. He didn’t need to explain. He lied to her for the same reason she hadn’t been honest with him.
They both wanted to pretend life was simple. And happy. No drama. No fear. No danger. No mistakes.
But their carefully constructed facade was crumbling. And the tug on her heart was undeniable.
God, why does he need to know? I didn’t technically lie about Spence, I just let Leland believe the untruth that everyone else believed. It’s been years. Why do I need to tell him? He would be happier not knowing.
But she wouldn’t. She knew that now. If she was ever going to feel real peace, she needed to heed God’s whispering directions. And tell Leland everything.
Making that decision felt good. And terrifying.
Tears stung her eyes. And she knew she needed to refocus. Leland wasn’t here right now. She would talk to him later.
The shadow-legs crossed the floor under her door for the umpteenth time.
Her thoughts veered to the strong, brave sentry protecting her dressing room.
And she wondered if he was one more reason God wanted her to get some things off her chest. If she hoped for a chance to get to know Jason better—or anyone, for that matter—she had to be honest about her past. If he had a past like hers, she’d want to know, if they—hypothetically—moved beyond friendship. Hypothetically.
Wait. She was really getting ahead of herself. Maybe he had all kinds of dark secrets. Maybe he was married. Maybe—
“Tayla?”
His deep, gentle voice jerked her out of her thoughts so quickly she jumped. “Y-yes?”
“Everything okay? I need to check in with Knox and Leland soon.”
“Oh, of course. Yes.” She looked in the mirror. The black spaghetti strap dress fit well. Yep, this would work. “I found the one I need. I’ll get changed.”
“Not trying to rush you.” His voice moved much closer to her door. “But I don’t want to talk to Knox on my cell in here.”
In the quiet boutique within earshot of several guests. “Yeah, got it. No problem. I’m almost ready.”
Jason was thankful for an empty elevator on the way back to the suite. This was the first time all morning he’d been alone with Tayla. And he needed some clarification about Leland’s earlier comments.
“So,” he pushed the button for the third floor as the elevator doors closed. “Can you explain what Leland meant when he said you would look more natural at this party than any of us? What exactly do you do for the Grayhouses?”
“Yes, I should probably explain.” Apparently, the explanation required fortitude she needed to summon, because she took in a slow breath before continuing. The deep breath—or whatever she was thinking during that breath—seemed to relax her. He watched a new sense of calm settle over her.
“Like I said earlier, it’s a long story, so I’ll stick to the highlights. My late husband was Spencer Carmicheal. His family not only attends many parties like the one tonight promises to be, they host them. They travel in . . . elite circles.”
Whoa. Yeah, they do. She was married to a Carmicheal? He’d read about Spencer Carmicheal’s death in the news, but he never guessed that jet-ski accident was the one Leland told him about. Leland never mentioned her husband’s last name.
That was a pretty big detail to omit. Then again, Leland never told him he had a niece before yesterday. Wow. Leland really isn’t a sharer.
The elevator opened, and they stepped into the hallway.
She grinned at him. “I learned how to work a room. Most of the parties we hosted were large galas for charities that were important to me. So, even though we were wearing ridiculously expensive clothes, eating ridiculously expensive food, those galas brought in millions of dollars to organizations that shared the love of Jesus to people through food, clothing, housing, and literacy programs—”
She stopped when she saw the door to their suite, but she didn’t look like she was ready to go in.
She lowered her voice and continued. “Anyway, now I work as a personal assistant to the Grayhouses. They’re lovely people.
I adore them. I assist them with a variety of things, but part of the time, I do what I did before—helping with charity galas.
The Grayhouses raised eight hundred thousand dollars last month for food banks in the Houston area. ”
Jason’s heart hitched. The passion in her voice when she talked about sharing Jesus’s love with the poor . . . wow. This is an incredible woman. She’s beautiful, smart, passionate—
But his mind tripped over something that wasn’t adding up.
“That’s really awesome, Tayla. Really, I mean that.
But . . . you may not want to share everything, but .
. .” How to put this delicately? “I’m still not understanding the whole picture.
” She looked at him with patient eyes. “I didn’t know Spencer Carmicheal, but I read about him.
If you don’t mind me asking, why is his widow working as a personal assistant? ”
She squeezed his arm with a knowing smile. “You mean, why is the benefactor of five billion dollars working at all?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, that’s the long-story part. Maybe I’ll share that sometime, but not in this hallway. Though, to satisfy some of your curiosity, I decided to give away every penny of it. I don’t have a cent of that money. I donated it to several charities.”
He pretended not to notice the pain in her voice and the strange shadows swirling in her eyes when she said those words. Like she’d considered burning the money before she decided to donate it.
Huh.
He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to know the whole story. He wanted—
“Hey.” Knox’s head popped into the hallway. “You guys coming in?”
Tayla’s smile brightened. “Yes, of course. I found a perfect dress. I’m ready for tonight.”
Knox opened the door wide, and she walked into the suite.
Jason’s face must’ve betrayed some of what he was thinking, because Knox mumbled, “Sorry, man. If I, um . . . sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Jason said.
It was probably for the best. If Knox hadn’t interrupted, he wasn’t sure what he might have said.
Tayla Faraday was full of surprises. And he was finding it more and more difficult to ignore the magnetism between them.
It wasn’t simple physical attraction. That was only part of it.
There was something less superficial, something about her character, that pulled him toward her.
And that could get him into trouble. He wasn’t sure he was ready for another relationship, and he needed to make sure he didn’t start something he couldn’t finish.
Which was why seeing her later that night, looking absolutely breathtaking in that black dress, was sheer torture.