The Million-Dollar Question

Parties, boyfriends … all those things she’d been told she’d have to sacrifice for her career didn’t seem like so much of a sacrifice after that. Or at least not an overly painful one.

Her inner eighteen-year-old still held a grudge about it, but she’d need to keep that safely hidden away.

Even if Evan felt remorse over the whole sorry incident, she wasn’t sure that was something she could—or wanted to—play on, either. She’d look foolish and ridiculous and hopelessly naive—and petty and manipulative to boot.

Nope. That little lost weekend needed to stay lost.

She was an adult; he was an adult. This was a purely business transaction, albeit with a personal glaze. But there was no crime in networking the contacts you had, personal or not.

Be friendly. Be businesslike. Evan was a successful businessman. According to Jory, Evan’s advertising agency was growing in phenomenal leaps and bounds, and he should appreciate a professional approach. There was no need to jump right in with the request—a little pleasant small talk always greased the wheels nicely. She would put the sponsorship out on the table early, giving him plenty of time for questions and plenty of time for her to convince him. If all went well, she could walk out of here tonight with his commitment and the ballet’s business manager could get the good news by class tomorrow.

If all went well.

And there was no reason why it shouldn’t.

“Good evening, Mr. Lawford.”

The valet at Tourmaine opened Evan’s door and greeted him with a smile. Tourmaine was his go-to place for entertaining clients—modern enough to feel on trend without being trendy, music loud enough to hear and enjoy without hindering conversations, and, most importantly, good food and a staff that knew him—and his tipping habits—well. “Good evening, Brian.”

“Enjoy your meal.”

“Thank you.” A banal, basic exchange of pleasantries, but one that he needed to remind him that the world hadn’t, in fact, gone insane.

Because barring that, he had no idea why Olivia Madison wanted to have dinner with him.

He knew, of course, that she’d moved to Miami. Jory had been ridiculously proud of his sister’s accomplishment, and they’d had dinner back in the fall when Jory came to see Olivia’s first performance with her new company. But Olivia hadn’t joined them, and Jory didn’t bring up his sister unnecessarily.

Evan hadn’t seen Olivia since she was eighteen, and that was definitely intentional. The only thing that had ever come between him and Jory was Olivia, and they’d nearly come to blows over her, doing damage to their friendship that had taken time to repair. He didn’t know how twitchy Jory might be about it these days, but it wasn’t something he wanted to stir up—not until he at least knew why Olivia had contacted him in the first place.

Miami was plenty big enough for them to never come in contact with each other at all, and he assumed that was exactly how Olivia—and Jory, as well—wanted it.

So an email out of the blue from her with a dinner invitation had to be viewed with some level of suspicion, yet there was no way he could not have come. If only to find out why.

Yep, that was his story and he was sticking to it.

He was a few minutes early, but Olivia was already there, the unusual coppery-blond hair both Madison siblings inherited from their mother easy to spot in the small crowd of people around the bar. She was in profile to him, reading something on her phone, giving him the chance to examine her at leisure.

She’d been baby-faced at eighteen, but far more mature in some ways than others her age—by then, she’d already traveled and lived abroad, a professional in her career when most others were still figuring out their future. She’d said she’d wanted a taste of real college life, the same as anyone else, and there hadn’t been a good reason not to indulge her—and himself at the same time.

The baby face was now gone, replaced by chiseled cheekbones and winged eyebrows that gave her a classical, elegant look, emphasized by the impossibly good posture and movements that were effortlessly graceful—even those as simple as ordering a drink or walking toward him … which she was now doing, a hesitant smile on her face.

“Evan. It’s good to see you.”

While her tone sounded sincere, he doubted it was completely true. There was a moment of hesitation, then she leaned in for one of those air-kiss things. Her cheek touched his accidentally and she jumped back as if she’d been scalded. He wouldn’t deny it: it sent a bit of a jolt through him, as well. He cleared his throat. “And you.”

The initial pleasantries finished, they stood there in an awkward silence, and he wasn’t used to awkward silences. “You look good,” he managed.

There was a small tug of her lips that stopped short of a smile. “So do you.”

More silence.

Thankfully, the hostess arrived to save them. “Mr. Lawford, we have your table ready.”

Following Olivia to the table gave him another chance to study her, and goodness, she was thin. She’d always been on the slight side, a necessity of dancing, but wraithlike was the word that came to mind. It was a good thing they were in a restaurant, because the need to feed her something was nearly overwhelming. She was also taller than he remembered, just a couple of inches shorter than his six-two, and only part of that height came from the boots she was wearing.

Long soft curls hung to the middle of her back, and a gold chain belt hung loosely around her tiny waist. Mile-long legs ended at slightly turned-out feet, giving her walk an unusual cadence that was still somehow graceful and smooth. Chin up and shoulders back, Olivia had presence.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. And that had gotten him in trouble before.

He shook his head to clear it. Of course the woman was thin and graceful. She had to be. That was a job requirement, and from what little he did know, Olivia Madison was good at her job.

Safely seated in the high-walled booth he favored for its privacy, the awkward silence that had started in the bar was easy to fill with menu discussions and ordering. He couldn’t stop his eyes from widening as she ordered a meal almost as big as his, and as the server walked away, she noticed. “What?”

“That’s a lot of food.”

She shot him a look. “If it’s a problem, I’m perfectly happy to pay for my own dinner.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

An eyebrow arched up. “Really? What did you mean then?”

Her tone could be called innocent and inquiring, but he realized the danger underneath just a second too late to pull the words back. “It’s … well, you …” He usually wasn’t foolish enough to bring up weight and diet with any woman, but he’d already stepped into it. “I guess I expected you to order a small salad with dressing on the side.”

She snorted. “Maybe for the first course. But I spent six hours in rehearsals today. I’m hungry.”

“Okay, a large salad, then,” he teased.

Olivia folded her hands primly on the table, and as she spoke, her tone clearly said this was a speech she’d given many times before. “I eat. I have to. I work my body hard, and my body needs fuel to do that work. I stay aware of my weight, but not in an unhealthy manner. Since I’m not obsessing over it, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t either. Okay?”

Duly chastised, he nodded. “Okay.”

Then she leaned forward. “And seriously, they put blue cheese cream sauce on a steak here. How am I not going to order that?”

“Fair enough.” She talked a good game, but he’d withhold judgment until he actually saw her eat something. He worked in advertising, for goodness sake. He knew about models and the things they did to lose weight, but he had to admit that Olivia wasn’t skeletal or starving—she was very slim, yes, but she didn’t have the hollowed-out sickly look. “It’s just surprising.”

She inclined her head, and reached for her water.

“But not as surprising as hearing from you.”

Olivia’s hand froze, making him suspicious all over again. She recovered quickly, though. “I’m just full of surprises then. Honestly, I feel I’ve been rather rude not getting in touch before now. My only excuse is that I’ve been unbelievably busy the last few weeks—getting settled, with rehearsals for the fall performance, and then straight into The Nutcracker and the winter special that’s coming up in January … I haven’t had time to even think.”

He’d known Jory for over twelve years, and his sister shared many of his mannerisms, making her somewhat easier to read than the average person. Olivia wasn’t fully at ease in this conversation, which wasn’t surprising. There were many reasons—beyond the busyness of her life—not to have been in touch before now, but there was no sense bringing those up just yet. That piqued his curiosity further, but he found that he wanted to make her comfortable, nonetheless. The past was bound to come up eventually, and it would be better to have a friendly footing before that happened. “But you’re feeling more settled in now?”

“Yeah. I’m not getting hopelessly lost every time I leave the house these days, which is good. And it’s nice to be home in Florida, where I can go to the beach anytime I want. Even in November.”

Via Jory, he knew Olivia had done recent stays in Chicago and Boston, where the snow would be enough to drive any Florida native to the brink of insanity. “Which beach is your favorite?”

Her mouth twisted. “I haven’t actually gone, yet. Like I said, I’ve been busy.”