Promises in Paradise

Seeing him at the entrance to the gala room had stunned her and caught her completely off guard. The tall, self-possessed, rather good-looking man in formal attire had confused her. Seeing him so suddenly, so unexpectedly, had disturbed history and rattled her expectations. She didn’t know what to make of this person, this apparition who seemed to have morphed from her memories into a different being.

Suddenly the man seated to her left, unaware, knocked her evening clutch off the table as he shifted in his chair. Diane quickly bent to retrieve it and took yet another opportunity to check out the table behind her and to the right. Hale had his arm resting along the top of the chair of a woman next to him as he leaned close to hear what she was saying. The woman, petite and—as much as Diane hated to admit it—adorable, had her lips very close to Hale’s ear and his undivided attention. Diane faced forward once more, placing her bag in her lap. She pushed her dessert plate away.

The evening was beginning to seem endless.

It had certainly never occurred to Diane that she would ever seen Hale Cameron again, let alone at this kind of evening that had brought out many of D.C.’s black education elite. It had been…what…more than ten years since they’d spoken to one another. Yet his name and the evolution of his life had been an indelible part of her own, thanks to her father.

Diane knew that she and Hale lived in the same city, D.C., but didn’t move in the same circles. She’d worked hard to make sure their paths would never cross. But even if she’d wanted to never see or hear the name Hale Cameron again in her lifetime, the chances were slim to none.

In all honesty, Diane considered dispiritedly, as laughter rang out from Hale’s table, it would not have been because of her father’s liking for the younger man but all because of her own steadfast lack of it.

Hale covertly checked his watch and stole a quick glance at the printed program in front of him. Two more awards and then it will all be over.

He tried to roll his shoulders back to ease the tightness across the top. He crossed his legs as he lounged back in his chair, his tux jacket unbuttoned. He looked to the temporary stage as the next presentation was made, but out of his peripheral vision there was no avoiding a full-on view of Diane as she sat listening to the proceedings. Elegant. Queenly. Beautiful. Bitch.

Hale hurriedly uncrossed his legs and sat up straight. His jaw tensed with the sway of his thoughts.

That was totally uncool, he told himself in irritation.

His glance strayed in her direction again. It had been a long time. Years and years, and then some. And yet, he was genuinely stunned by the difference between then and now, at least physically, as he tried to adjust his thinking, his memories, to fit the moment.

He mentally shook his head. In another way he was also sure that nothing had changed. At least, between the two of them. From Diane’s very cold attitude to her biting comments, he might just as well have been dead to her.

Hale considered their peculiar history and the awkward melding of their lives. He knew everything about Diane Maxwell. Far more than she’d appreciate his knowing, more than was comfortable from his point of view. All of which, however, had only served to keep them connected over the years, like an invisible umbilical or Bungee cord.

The woman seated next to him shifted slowly in her chair and sighed. Hale immediately bent toward her.

“Everything okay?”

She nodded, taking a tiny sip of water. “I’m getting a little tired.”

“We can leave now if you want.” He placed his napkin on the table and began pushing his chair back. She touched his arm.

“No, not yet. It’s almost over, Hale. I can wait.”

“Are you sure?”

She smiled at him in the darkened room. “Believe me, if I wasn’t, you’d be the second person to know.” She patted his arm, and gave her attention back to the front of the room.

Satisfied, Hale relaxed. His gaze wandered back to Diane.

She’d cut her hair.

He remembered a wild mane of thick but loosely textured natural hair that he used to call her Diana Ross wannabe look. She’d hated his teasing, thinking herself far more original. In truth, Hale had to admit that Diane had never really been the kind of girl who fussed over her looks or worried about her hair. Especially since she was a swimmer. Long ago it was more that she was comfortable with her own natural appeal and never felt the need to play on it, and it didn’t need improvements. Studying her now, it was obvious that had changed.

The woman she’d become was…he couldn’t even say it. He couldn’t find the right words because they would be so foreign to what Diane used to be and what he’d known of her. The girl was gone. The fearless, but awkward and innocent teenager had been replaced in a major way. Hale may not have been able to get his memories straight around it, but his present state of mind was another matter.

Uncomfortable with having been forced back into the past, he was anxious for the evening to be over.

Even as the applause started on the closing remarks of the hostess and MC, people were getting up, saying good-night to one another and heading with purpose for the exit. Hale quickly stood, offering a hand to his companion as she slowly rose from her chair. Hale offered his arm. She held on as they left the room. There was a crowd of people around the elevator, but many others were filing down the staircase in a wave of black tuxedos and colorful dresses.

“Hale, I’ll just be a minute.”

“I’ll wait here,” he said, releasing her hand and watching her closely as she headed toward the ladies’ room.

The room was almost empty by the time Diane was finally able to leave. Even then she was accompanied by one of her father’s professional friends, who was asking her to have Adam call him. It had been a long time since they’d gotten together and they were overdue.

Diane smiled graciously. “I certainly will give him your message. He loves the whole let’s-do-lunch thing but he’s terrible about making it happen.”

“I know,” the elderly man lamented. “Adam never did suffer the details very well. I’ve always enjoyed our conversations. Give him my best.”

“I will. Get home safe,” Diane said and the gentleman, alone, walked away.

She waited just a moment longer before leaving the room, her father’s Revere Bowl in her hands. She looked up and saw Hale. He was standing alone, his gaze focused absently on the last group of guests descending the staircase. For just a moment Diane quietly watched him, accepting that she no longer recognized the young man she used to know. In that moment she was very curious about this new person, this grown man. What was he doing here? How had he become involved with such an influential and select group of professional folks?

Was the tux rented?

As curious as Diane suddenly was about Hale, she accepted that it would be a snowy day in hell before she asked her father for details.

Undetected, she walked away from him to make one more stop before her drive home.

In the ladies’ room, one woman was washing her hands. The second, a small, lovely young woman, was sitting in the outer lounge area reapplying lipstick. Diane recognized her as Hale’s dinner companion. The woman caught her gaze briefly in the mirror and offered a faint but friendly smile. Diane automatically responded in passing.

When she finished and was ready to leave it was in time to see Hale and the woman about to board the elevator. Diane made the decision to walk down, but was spotted by the woman, who waved at her.

“You’re just in time. We’ll hold the door.”

Unable to come up with a reason why she shouldn’t ride with them, Diane hurried to the elevator and entered.

She avoided looking at Hale. “Thanks.”

The word caught in her throat. She sounded breathless to her own ears. Not because she was in a closed, confined place with Hale, but because she was suddenly aware that his companion was very pregnant.

The other woman was saying something. Introducing herself. Jenna. Stunned, Diane couldn’t hear properly. She had to force herself to focus, to clear her head and lift her gaze to the other woman.

“…about your father. He sounds like a wonderful man,” the woman said.

Diane nodded absently, trying to think.

Think!

“Ah…yes. Thank you. I agree but I’m biased. He’s far from perfect, but if I don’t agree, I’ll probably sound mean-spirited.”

“Which is it?” Hale asked.

Diane’s eyes sparked but she did her best to hide it. She looked at Hale, her gaze steady. “I’m lucky that he’s my father. He’s probably a better person than I am.”

A muscle in Hale’s jaw tightened and his dark eyes took her in, steady…and unforgiving.