"Not enough."
"Got a date for New Year's Eve?"
"Did. Don't anymore."
Now was not the time for a lecture on either Jared's work ethic or his relationships. "So come to Chicago. I'm playing host, so you'll be on your own, but so what?" And unlike Amanda, Jared knew enough of the attendees that he would be fine without Derek.
"I don't know. Maybe. Shoot me a ticket, okay?"
"Will do."
Jared's heavy sigh filled the silence. "Why are we doing all of this?" Jared asked.
"All of what?"
"Exactly," Jared said. And then he hung up.
* * *
Amanda almost didn't go to the New Year's Eve gala at the Austin Winston Hotel. What was the point without Derek there, too?
In the end, though, she decided to go for four reasons. First, he'd told her to, and he'd taken the trouble to get her a VIP table. Second, he'd asked for pictures of her in the dress, and what was the point of putting it on to take a picture if you didn't actually go somewhere? Third, she actually wanted to wear the dress, and a gala was the perfect venue. It wasn't as if a full-skirted black and white ball gown would be appropriate for showing a three-bedroom, two-bath condo overlooking the river.
Mostly, though, she wanted to be close to Derek. Although that emotion scared her to death. She'd put so much into the relationship with Leo, and when it fell apart she'd been ruined for months. Emotionally and in her career.
Maybe she was being stupid to let herself get in deep with Derek, but she told herself it was safe because it was essentially a monthly thing. A moving hook-up. Friends with Ultra Benefits. And that was okay.
That's what she told herself.
But on nights like tonight, she just wanted him. And if she couldn't be with him, then being in the hotel that bore his name would have to do.
"What do you think?" she asked Reece, twirling for him in The Fix. Since the bar was hosting its own celebration tonight, it was overflowing with patrons, and Amanda appreciated Reece taking the time out to humor her.
"You look amazing," he said, and she curtsied.
"Thank you, kind sir."
Honestly, he was right. She did look amazing, and she'd saved two pictures of the getting dressed process to her phone. She'd already texted the first one to Derek--her in a lacy bra, matching panties, a garter, and stockings. After all, why not start from the bottom up?
He'd texted back that it was cruel of her to torture him, and she'd continued to get dressed with a huge smile stretched across her face.
The second picture was as she looked now. She'd put her hair up, so that only a few tendrils fell around her shoulders, leaving the elegant neckline on full display. As for the dress itself, the bodice was fitted and zipped up the back. The material was white, but not blinding. A simple belt of grosgrain ribbon separated the form-fitting bodice from the flared skirt made of layers and layers of material.
The dress was a rare splurge, and it made her feel as lovely as Grace Kelly. Too bad Derek wasn't there to see her. But she did send him the second picture of her in the dress, too.
Now she just needed to get one more picture of her actually at the gala. Even if she left early, she'd be able to show him that she was there.
And, honestly, even with her friends there as well, she wasn't sure she could stay until midnight. That might be a little too depressing.
"You're not walking over, are you?" Reece asked.
She shook her head. "Nolan's actually getting us one of the carriages, so that should be fun."
Reece laughed. "You'll look like Cinderella."
"Speaking of, have you talked to Jenna? Last time I did, she was still looking for work after the mess with that horrible company she went to work for in LA."
"This morning," Reece said. "Terrible time of year to be looking for work."
He looked so worried about her that Amanda wished she hadn't brought it up. "She'll be fine. She's so freaking talented and--oh, there's Nolan."
Reece waved her off. "Go. Have fun in the glitz and glam. We'll be here with jeans and boots and beer."
"Don't bullshit me. This place has the best cocktails in the city."
"We do indeed," he said as she hurried through the door, then let her stepbrother help her into the carriage.
"Very cool idea," she admitted.
"I have them every once in a while," he said. "And I figured you'd need cheering up, what with your boyfriend being absent and all."
"He's not my boyfriend."
"Uh-huh. Pull the other one, why don't you?"
She rolled her eyes, but didn't otherwise protest. He might not be right about the label, but she did want Derek there.
It didn't take long to reach the hotel, and once they were in the ballroom, Nolan went off to mingle. "This place is dripping with fodder for the show. I brought a notepad and a recorder." He patted his pockets. "I'm set."
She laughed, then waved him off. Then stood like a dolt wondering what to do next. She'd just noticed Brooke on the far side of the dance floor when Martin Arand came up beside her. They'd never been good friends, but she knew his name and face well enough. He was the man Zeke had entrusted with his portfolio. And the man Zeke had sponsored for a brokership.
He was the man who'd stolen her life, and all because she'd let Leo steal her heart. Bastard.
She wiped the frown off her face, then smiled up at the man. "Martin. How lovely to see you."
"I saw you here and just wanted to say hello. I know you still haven't gotten your broker's license. If you ever need a sponsor, just give me a call."
Her smile was ice. "That's so nice of you. Thanks."
"Of course, of course. Any time," he said. She resisted the urge to punch him--it was Zeke's fault, not Martin's--and the evening went on.
He had, however, reminded her of her priority. With Derek not there, she might as well network.
She'd met a few of the owners in Derek's building and that had led her to other potential clients, many of whom were here. So she mingled and chatted and flirted when necessary. But it all felt hollow and useless.
She didn't want to schmooze clients. She wanted--
Well, no, it didn't matter, because Chicago was a long, long way away.
She headed to her VIP table to leave a note for Nolan and Brooke. She'd had her fill of the gala extravaganza, and simply wanted to go home.
But, of course, she had no pen, so she turned around to search down a waiter.
There he was.
Which made no sense because he was in Chicago. But that was him, no doubt about it. And she wanted to run to him--but that would make a scene. Plus, she'd probably fall. Her shoes weren't exactly made for running.
So she waited, breathless, for him to come to her.
"Hey, beautiful. That dress looks amazing on you."
"You're only saying that because I want to hear it."
"And because it's true."
Her grin spread so wide it hurt.
"I liked your pictures."
"Did you?"
"Mmm," he said, then stepped closer.
"How are you here?"
He lifted a shoulder. "I told the office that I was taking New Year's Eve off."
"That simple?"
He shook his head. "No. But that important."
Tears pricked her eyes. "Thank you."
He brushed his thumb over her lower lip, the sensation hinting at a kiss.
She swallowed. "What do you want to do?"
"I've come a long way to get here. Right now, I just want to hold you. Dance with me?"
With a nod, she slid into his arms. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"This has been the best night ever."
His brow rose. "Has been? It's not over yet."
"I know. But I didn't want to forget to tell you."
She rested her head against his chest as they swayed to the music. "And I already know this is one of those rare, triple gold star eveni
ngs."
Chapter Ten
There was nothing about spring in Austin that Amanda didn't like, especially this year. She'd seen Derek at least once each month since New Year's Eve, the bluebonnets that covered the state were stunning, and Jenna was back from LA.
"I know I keep saying it," Amanda said to Jenna as they sat at a table by the window in The Fix, "but I'm just so ridiculously happy you're back. Even if the reason does suck."
Jenna had moved to LA a while back to take a job with a marketing company. That whole situation had been a massive fail, and now she was back. A fact that made Amanda positively giddy.
"It did suck," Jenna admitted, taking a sip of her Loaded Corona, a specialty at The Fix and one of Jenna's favorites. "I ended up broke and coming home with my tail between my legs."
"You came home," Amanda said, leaning over to put her hand on Jenna's. "That's the important part. Besides, look at you now. A partner in The Fix and doing the exact job you wanted to do. Marketing and Event Planning. I think you must have some pretty good karma clinging to you, my friend."
At that, Jenna smiled. "It is pretty cool. And completely unexpected. I still can't believe it."
"Can't believe what? That Reece and Brent would pull you in? The three of you are like the planets, the sun, and the space between. A unit, you know? Of course they wanted you in. Especially when they need you to do the marketing. That's not their thing--Reece is all about management and Brent's deal is security--and it's sure not Tyree's."
Tyree Johnson was the original owner of The Fix on Sixth. And Amanda felt like a complete idiot for not realizing that the place was in financial trouble. But apparently it was--and continued to be--because even though Tyree had taken on three partners in Jenna, Brent, and Reece, he'd still publicly announced that unless The Fix was firmly in the black come New Year's Eve, then he'd sell the place. And Amanda knew the market well enough to know that the most likely buyer was Bodacious, a corporate chain bar that not only had an infantile business model, but also served truly crappy food and watered down drinks.
Brent and Reece had bought into the partnership, providing working capital for the rest of the year. And Jenna had come in on her skills alone. But she'd already proved her worth as far as Amanda was concerned. "The Man of the Month contest really is brilliant," she told Jenna. "And it was all your idea. Although I think I provided some wisp of inspiration."
The competition centered around hot men vying for a slot in a calendar. Which mean that soon there would be shirtless men on stage. Which meant more women in the bar. And that meant more drinks sold.
Ergo, the brilliance.
Jenna laughed. "I just hope I can pull it off."
The contest was still in the planning stages, with the first competition a few weeks away. "It'll be a huge success. You'll see."
She leaned back in her seat, then took a sip of her Jalapeno Margarita. "And the rest?"
Jenna's eyes widened. "What rest?"
"You and Reece. You're really going to tell me nothing's going on?"
Jenna rolled her eyes. "Yes. I'm really going to tell you that. He's my best friend. Since childhood. End of story."
"Uh-huh."
"Please drop it."
"Fine." Amanda had pulled that thread before, and she'd undoubtedly pull it again. She could let it go for now.
"How about you?" Jenna countered. "You're dating someone, aren't you?"
"Oh, please. No." Amanda fought the urge to cross her fingers under the table. "You know me better than that."
"Yup, I do. And you haven't been talking about your conquests nearly as much since I got back. So, what? Do you have a guy tucked away in your attic somewhere?"
"Actually, yes. I take him out and dust him off about once a month."
"I'm serious," Jenna said.
Amanda blinked at her friend, the picture of innocence. "And you think I'm not?"
"Fine. Whatever." She finished her drink. "Another?"
"Sure," Amanda said. For a second, she thought about telling Jenna the real truth. About the man whose presence she craved. Who made her feel special and even loved.
But she didn't. The feelings were true, but they were scary. And acting on them meant change. And right now, between her and Derek, she didn't want anything to change at all.
* * *
"It's been way too long since we've gotten together," Derek said, his eyes meeting Landon's in the locker room mirror. They'd just finished a killer game of squash, and they were both dripping with sweat. "Hell of a game, though."
"Right on both counts." Detective Landon Ware and Derek had been having drinks at The Fix On Sixth the night that he met Amanda. They'd met when Landon was working in the Dallas Police Department ten years before and had been assigned to investigate a suspicious death in one of the Dallas Winston Hotel's rooms. Murder, it turned out. A wife who'd poisoned the engraved water bottle her husband took with him to work, because she was certain he was having an affair. She was right. And the husband and the mistress had died in the penthouse.
"You're still seeing that cute girl you were checking out last year?"
He nodded. "Hard to believe it's been that long."
"Time flies," Landon said. "You two must be serious." Landon was a strong man, and he looked it. Not huge, but a solid block of muscle, covered by a layer of tattooed, black skin. But he had exceptionally kind eyes, and it was Derek's theory that the combination was what made him such a great detective. Everybody talked when Landon was in the interrogation room.
Just like Derek was talking now. "I think we are. Hard to know."
"Is it? I haven't really dated much--not since that shit with Vanessa--but I seem to recall the question being a little more clear cut."
"I'm pretty sure nothing is clear cut where women are concerned." He sat on the bench and pulled on his shoes. "I'm out of here. I'm actually meeting her in an hour. A work free Saturday for both of us."
"Give me a call when she doesn't have you tied down." Landon winked, then tossed his locker key and caught it. "We'll have a rematch."
"You got it."
Derek showered and was out of the gym in record time. He waved to the owner, Matthew Herrington, then stepped out into a gorgeous spring day. He headed down Congress toward his condo, pausing only when he saw a familiar face coming toward him.
It took him a second, but he finally recognized the tall man with dark hair and movie star looks. "Parker? Parker Manning."
He saw the confusion on Parker's face, then the recognition as Parker shook his head in surprise. "I almost didn't recognize you," Derek said. "It's been, what? Ten years?"
"About that. I'm not even sure where I saw you last."
"Something to do with our parents, I'm sure."
Both Parker and Derek came from families with Texas money that was sunk deep. The Manning family with their oil and gas roots, and the Winston family with ranching and the hotel chain. And despite popular opinion, the high roller club in Texas wasn't overflowing with members. Most anyone with that kind of portfolio knew everyone else, and Parker and Derek had spent many afternoons together at country clubs and other watering holes for old Texas money.
"Are you living here now?" Derek asked Parker. "I thought I'd heard you were in LA."
"Was. Just moved to Austin. Well," he amended, "my company's been here for awhile, but I just made the move myself."
As he spoke, he was looking over Derek's shoulder, and he took one long step to the right, which put him behind Derek. Then he slipped into the shadows of a nearby building's entrance alcove.
"Problem?"
Parker shook his head. "I know that woman."
Derek glanced over his shoulder at a woman with long dark hair and cat's eye glasses, then looked back at Parker. "Bad breakup?"
"Not exactly. Let's just say I want to stay off her radar for awhile. I think she needs some space," he added, obviously in response to Derek's questioning expression.
"Looks like you've b
ecome quite the gentleman."
Parker's lips twitched. "It happens. So what's up with you?"
"Work. Travel. I did just close a deal to purchase a small motel to renovate." The owners of the South Congress Motor Inn had finally accepted the offer, and Derek couldn't wait to get the Winston Boutiques division up and running.
His phone rang, and he frowned when he saw that it was his assistant. "I need to take this. It's either an emergency or I'm going to have words with my assistant." She knew he preferred text or email on the weekends. Calls were strictly for crises.
"No problem. We'll catch up soon."
"Absolutely," Derek said, then connected the call. "Elizabeth? You know it's Saturday."
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Winston. But Mr. Ingram's father just called. He wanted you to know that Jared tried to commit suicide."
* * *
It took a few hours and a half dozen calls, but Derek finally managed to piece the story together. His friend had tried to OD on pills, and he was currently in a private hospital in Vermont for recuperation and psychiatric evaluation.
Derek was scheduled to fly up there first thing in the morning.
Now, he stretched out on the couch, not doing a damn thing except waiting. Not for tomorrow, but for Amanda. She was due any minute, and though his first instinct had been to cancel their date, he hadn't done so. He'd kept silent because the only thing that he was certain about in this crazy day was that she was the person he wanted to see.
A moment later, he heard the keypad beep. She entered, started to flash her bright smile at him, then faltered.
"Derek? What's wrong?"
Immediately, a wave of guilt crested over him. He hadn't cancelled the date because he wanted to see her. But did he really have the right to bring her down, too?
"It's fine," he said, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "I should have called. I'm not really good company today. I don't want to ruin your Saturday, too."
"Hmm." She dropped her purse on the entry table, then came to kneel in front of him. She reached over and felt his head. "You don't have a fever."
"It's not that." He took her hand, deciding he should tell her. "Jared tried to kill himself."
She froze. "Your friend? The one you told me about from boarding school?"
He nodded.
"Oh, God. Derek, I'm so sorry."
"I don't want to lay this on you, too. You should just go. I can--"