Their Unfinished Business

“Her boyfriend?” Audra blurted out.

“Bradley Townsend isn’t…bothered in the least by the fact that I enjoy my job,” Ali replied.

None of it was a lie. She hadn’t called him her boyfriend. And during their one date he hadn’t complained at all about her demanding career.

“Are you going to see Townsend again?” Dane asked.

“Saturday.” She cleared her throat. “Can we get back to business? Please.”

Luke straightened and walked back around to his chair. “I like the idea,” he said, settling onto the seat. “The reason I asked if you played golf, Ali, is I think you hit a hole-in-one with that plan.”

She flushed again, this time for a very different reason. She almost hated herself for it. What did it matter what he thought of her? She wasn’t out to please Luke Banning. She crossed her legs, tugged at the hem of her skirt and tried to convince herself she wasn’t lying.

Three hours later, Luke and the Conlans emerged from the room with a partnership forged and their signatures drying on the thick stack of paperwork their various lawyers had had a hand in drawing up.

“When will you be heading back to New York?” Audra asked.

Luke had planned to leave Trillium that afternoon. He had two meetings scheduled in Manhattan on Friday and plans to attend an exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art with Rochelle Bullard on Saturday.

Now, the thought of returning to his penthouse held no appeal. He told himself it was just that he hadn’t had much time off in recent months. He was due a vacation and, besides, he’d never made it out to his grandmother’s cottage. He should check on it and then look into putting it on the market.

The thought of selling it made him unexpectedly sad. He wasn’t a sentimental man. In business, he couldn’t afford to be. In his personal life, he just plain didn’t care to be. His relationship with Rochelle, for instance, was casual and hardly headed in the direction of serious. He glanced at Ali and wondered if her date with the developer on Saturday would end with a chaste peck or a sweaty tussle between the sheets. He felt a muscle tick in his cheek at the disturbing visual his thoughts conjured up.

In response to Audra’s question he heard himself say, “I haven’t decided when I’ll leave.”

Ali sat on the rear deck of her cottage that evening and watched the setting sun shimmer in hues of pink of gold over Lake Michigan. Dane and Audra had gone to dinner with Luke. Seth would be meeting them. Ali had made excuses and headed for home, eager for some time alone.

As soon as she’d walked through the cottage’s door, she’d poured herself a glass of wine, turned on some vintage Bonnie Raitt and shed her clothes along with Audra’s killer shoes. They’d looked great, but they had proved anything but comfortable.

Now, dressed in blue jeans and an oversize University of Michigan sweatshirt, she sipped merlot and thanked God that even before knowing Luke would be on Trillium, she had scheduled a couple of days off from the resort. She saw no reason to change her plans now. She wasn’t a coward, but the less she saw of Luke Banning, the better.

Having made that determination, her gaze drifted down to the beach and she nearly bobbled her wine.

“Hey, Ali!” Luke called out, hiking up the grassy incline to the deck wearing a cocky grin that put her teeth on edge.

Wouldn’t it just figure that she was back in jeans with her feet bare and her face scrubbed free of every last speck of foundation? She’d felt powerful and in control wearing that savvy red suit and a subtle touch of makeup. Now she felt like Cinderella must have after midnight struck. Damn the man, but he still looked like royalty even without the designer clothes he’d worn earlier. She had to admit, the suit had surprised her. Despite his wealth, she’d figured Luke would stroll in to their meeting wearing jeans. But he’d looked plenty at ease decked out in what she suspected was Armani.

“I thought you’d gone to dinner with Dane and Audra.”

“I took a rain check.”

“I didn’t hear your motorcycle.”

“Probably because your music’s kind of loud.” He grinned, nodding toward the house where Bonnie Raitt’s sooty voice wailed from the speakers. Ali wanted to kick herself as she realized the singer was now crooning about how she couldn’t make somebody love her.

She shrugged. “I always play my music loud. I don’t have any neighbors to worry about.”

“That could change,” he said. But before she could ask what he meant, he was motioning toward the pastel-flooded horizon. “I’d forgotten how beautiful the sunsets are here.”

“One of the reasons I could never see myself living anywhere else,” she replied.

Even so, as she took another sip of her wine, she tried to be objective. She tried to see this small slice of the universe from Luke’s perspective. She tried to understand for the millionth time what had made it so impossible for him to remain all those years before. She couldn’t, though. Not then, and not now. And because of the way he stirred up her emotions Ali discovered that as much as she’d wanted him to stay when she was a naïve twenty-year-old, now she just wanted him to go away and leave her alone.

Luke didn’t go away, though. He settled onto the top step that led to the deck, and then leaned back on his elbows. He was the picture of a man at leisure even as Ali felt wound up tight and ready to spring.

“Are the winters still as hard as I remember?” he asked.

“Worse.”

“Kids still go sledding down Palmer Hill?”

“Yep.”

She’d hoped by not contributing much to the conversation he would take the hint and leave, but he didn’t appear to be put off by her laconic replies.

“Remember the time we crashed our toboggan into that oak tree near the bottom?” he asked, shaking his head and chuckling softly. “You were what, seven?”