“I can’t disclose anything else. You’ll just have to wait and see.”
Slowly Phil taxied down the runway, the small plane’s engine roaring.
“Does this thing have plenty of gas?” Lindsay yelled to Phil.
“Uhm,” Phil scratched his head, “I forgot to check.”
Lindsay squeezed Charlie’s hand. “He’s kidding, right?”
Charlie’s smile spread across his face. “Of course he’s kidding. That’s Phil.”
The plane picked up speed. Lindsay stared out the window. She didn’t feel the plane leave the ground; only noticing they were airborne when the runway came in to view, twenty feet below. “Aah! We’re flying!”
“Indeed we are,” Charlie said.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Lindsay told him.
“Nah. Phil is the finest pilot I know, all joking aside.”
“It was awfully nice of Phil to do this on a Saturday night. He didn’t have plans?”
“He’s in between girlfriends; changes them frequently. This must be an off–week for him.”
“I hope his playboy ways don’t wear off on you.”
“Never. I’m a one–woman man.”
Lindsay laid her head on Charlie’s shoulder. “I can’t wait for the rest of this night,” she whispered to herself.
Chapter Twenty–Five
Within the hour, they touched down at Atlanta’s airport. The flight was void of turbulence or low gasoline. Turns out, Phil was as good a pilot as Charlie had said.
A stretch limousine waited for them, just steps away from the plane. “Madam, sir,” the driver said with a nod. He closed the door behind them.
“Can you at least tell me where we’re going for dinner?” Lindsay said. “Is it a place that we don’t have in Charleston? At home, we don’t have a Cheesecake Factory. Is that where dinner is?”
“No.” Charlie laughed. “But I’ll have to remember to take you there one day.”
After a five–minute drive down the interstate, they exited and pulled into the drive of The Omni Hotel. “This place is exquisite. Are we staying here tonight?”
“If you want to. I could send Phil home, and we can catch a commercial flight when we’re ready to leave.”
The driver parked underneath a covered awning in front of the entry way. Charlie stepped out and extended his hand to Lindsay. “Shall we.”
“So why are we here again, if we’re not checking in?” Lindsay asked.
Charlie shrugged her off and proceeded past the front desk.
“Hello? Where’s dinner?”
Without answering, Charlie led her down a long corridor.
Mediterranean–style oil paintings, held in place by museum–quality frames, lined the walls. Each one was illuminated by scalloped lighting. Lindsay snagged her sandal on the carpet as she studied the artwork. Lucky for her, she was holding onto Charlie’s arm.
“See what you almost caused,” she said, her tone rising. “If you would just clue me in on what we’re doing here—”
Charlie stopped right then and pulled her toward him. “Calm down, doll,” he said and leaned in for a kiss. “Are you ready for the surprise?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” Lindsay answered batting her eyelashes. She held her hands together, and turned her head to one side. In a baby voice she said, “But after this, no more surprises. Remember what we said?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Charlie said. He led her to the end of the corridor, where people were crowded inside a banquet hall.
Lindsay hesitated to step inside. “This is a private party.”
“It’s private all right. The tickets cost a small fortune, but you, Lindsay Martin, are on the guest list.” Charlie took her by the hand.
Once inside, Charlie pointed to the stage at the right–hand end of the banquet hall.
Lindsay couldn’t believe what she read on the banner hanging above the stage:
Welcome to the Atlanta Braves charity dinner and silent auction
.
“Oh … my,” she put her hand over her mouth, “gosh.” She scanned the faces of the other individuals in the room and recognized them as players. “This is incredible! I can’t believe I’m having dinner with the Braves!”
Charlie beamed, watching the expression on Lindsay’s face.
A waiter walked by with a tray of drinks, and Charlie grabbed one for each of them. “Have some champagne,” he said, sliding the glass into Lindsay’s hand.
She grasped it, but was too enthralled with her surroundings to thank him, or take a sip.
“Close your mouth, sweetheart, and let’s go check out the auction items.” Charlie escorted her in the direction of the auction table. “Pay attention in front of you, now, before you trip again and embarrass yourself.”
They strolled alongside the table, checking out the items for bid. Charlie stopped and picked up an autographed eight by ten photo of the entire team. He turned it from angle–to–angle, reading the signatures.
Lindsay gripped Charlie’s upper arm and pulled him close to her side. “Thank you so much,” she whispered in his ear. “For someone who doesn’t like surprises, I couldn’t be more thrilled.”
“You’re welcome.” Charlie kissed her forehead and proceeded to the other end of the table.
Lindsay was busy looking at him with love in her eyes. A viper, coiled and ready to strike, could have been sitting on that auction table, but she wouldn’t have noticed.
Charlie picked up a hard, plastic cube and examined the baseball inside. “I can’t make out the autograph on this ball. Can you?” He handed it to Lindsay.
Lindsay gasped, her eyebrows arching upward. Her eyes fixated on the signature, her hand trembled.
“What’s with the owl eyes?” Charlie asked, grinning.
“Impossible … it can’t be.” She held it closer to her face. “Why would Tom Lally’s autograph be here? Because he used to play for the Braves?”
Charlie put a finger to his chin. “Hmm … not sure.”
Lindsay set the ball back on the table and pointed to an adjacent bid sheet. Her shoulders slumped. “Somebody’s already bid on it. I guess I’m out of luck.”
Charlie shook his head. “No, we can outbid the last person,” he grasped her chin with his thumb and index finger and turned her head to the right, “or you can get his autograph yourself.”
Chapter Twenty–Six
None other than Tom Lally himself stood ten feet away, mingling with some other people.
Lindsay took one glance at him and pivoted back around. “Oh my gosh! Is that him? Am I dreaming?”
Charlie pinched her on the arm.
“Okay, okay, it’s real,” Lindsay spat out. “But, why’s he here?”
“He’s here because he’s part of their roster. Last week, he was traded back to Atlanta.”
“You’re lying!”
Charlie gestured toward Tom. “Why don’t you step over and introduce yourself?”
Lindsay held up the palms of both hands. “No way! I have no idea what I’d say. I’d stumble on every word.”
“Well, I won’t.” Charlie nudged past her. “Find us a table, sweetheart.”
Oh, she’d find them a table—one in the furthest corner of the room. She hurried through the maze of elegantly–decorated, round tables, each with a seating for six. Only two were unoccupied in the whole room, and she planted herself at the one in the far back.
Lindsay chugged down her glass of champagne, then looked across the room. Charlie and Tom had their backs turned, but they seemed to be deep in conversation, like old friends.
Lindsay imagined Charlie telling Tom she had a massive crush on him, or something similarly embarrassing. She almost stopped breathing when they both turned and looked right at her. When they started walking in her direction, she swallowed the lump in her throat and managed to take a deep breath.
“Tom Lally,” Charlie said, “I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Lindsay Martin.”
Lindsay pushed back her chair and walked around the table. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, shaking Tom’s hand.
“Nice to meet you as well. Charlie speaks very highly of you.”
“I saw you two talking and wondered what he was telling you.” She took a sidelong glance at Charlie. If she could feel the heat on her cheeks, she knew they could easily see it. “Should I crawl under the table now?”
Tom smiled. “Nah, he was just filling me in on the details of this surprise he’d planned for you. You guys make a nice–looking couple.”
“Thanks. I think so too.” Lindsay put her arm around Charlie’s back, and he draped his arm around her shoulder.
“Listen, they’re about to call the players on stage for q–and–a,” Tom said. “Afterward, why don’t we all sit down and have a couple of drinks. Think you can stick around?”
“Whatever she says do, I’ll do,” Charlie said.
“Okay. I’m sure we’ll be here for a while,” Lindsay said.
“Right on,” Tom Lally said. “I’ll see you two later.”
Charlie pulled out a chair for Lindsay.
“Wow. I can’t believe I just met Tom Lally. He was so nice,” Lindsay said. “Thank you for bringing him over to meet me. Again, you’ve outdone yourself.”
“My pleasure. He may be a bulldog, but I wouldn’t have let him say no. I was planning to do that all along, if I had the chance to run into him.”
“Is there anything you wouldn’t do for me?” Lindsay asked.
“Nothing comes to mind, right off–hand. How about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if there were something I wanted
you
to do for
me
?”
“Depends on what it is.”
Charlie put a blue velvet box in front of her on the table. “How about be mine forever?” He got out of his chair and kneeled on one knee. “What do you say?” He opened the box, showing her the sparkling, two–carat diamond inside.
Lindsay rubbed the tears from her eyes. She’d never sprung a leak so fast in all her life. “What’s the question again?” she asked through sobs.
“Seriously?”
Lindsay nodded.
“Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Lindsay stood and Charlie rose to his feet. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she said, “I wanted to hear you say the words. Yes, of course I will.”
Applause from the audience erupted around them. Across the room, Tom Lally did a thumbs–up.
“I can’t believe this is happening to me. I love you so much, Charlie.”
“I love you too, doll. Always.”
Lindsay’s cell phone rang inside her sparkly handbag. She sat, fumbling through her purse. She found the phone and silenced the volume.
The clapping subsided, and Charlie acknowledged the room of people with a broad sweep of his hand, thanking them for their well wishes. He then joined his bride–to–be at the table.
“Who was it?” he asked.
Lindsay had the phone up to her ear. “It was Ireland. I’m checking my voice mail.” She listened for a moment and relayed what she heard. “She and Jeffrey broke up.” Another pause. “She wants to know if she can move back in to the apartment with me … too bad I won’t be there. Maybe she can move in with us for a while … hehe.”
The look on Charlie’s face said he wasn’t buying into her cutesy laugh.
“Grab something to write on,” Lindsay said, taking a pen out of her handbag.
Charlie looked on the table for a napkin, then he felt the front pockets on his suit.
“She’s coming home tomorrow. Hurry—I need to write down her flight number.”
Charlie stood and tapped his back pockets with an open hand. Without thinking, he tossed the folded, blue paper onto the table.
Lindsay jotted down the number and put her phone away. “I hope this isn’t something important I just wrote on. It looks official.”
Before Charlie could stop her, she’d unfolded the paper.
Typed in bold writing on the Charleston County letterhead was her own name. She continued reading.
Violation: Stop sign. Fine: $400.
She propped her elbow on the table, holding the ticket between her first two fingers. “What’s this?” she asked, smiling devilishly. “I thought we said, ‘no more bailing me out’.”
Charlie grinned. He leaned across the table and kissed her on the nose. “After this.”
The End
Author’s Note
I wasn’t expecting to do a spin–off of this book, but I couldn’t help but fall in love with Ireland’s character. Doesn’t a friend as kind–hearted as she is deserve her own happy ending? I think so. Her story,
If Lovin’ You is Wrong
will be released in August 2012.
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