The Lives Between Us (16 page)

“What happened?” Eileen picked up her roll, ripped it apart and carefully spread butter evenly over half the bread.

“Eclampsia. She had a stroke. They’re keeping her in ICU overnight to observe her, but they think she’ll be fine.”

“And the twins? They were only what, twenty-eight, twenty-nine weeks?”

“Fine, I guess. Skye didn’t say.”

Edward’s head jerked around and his hand stalled halfway to his mouth. “Skye?”

The conversation at the table stopped. Mark felt all eyes on him. He studiously stabbed his lettuce, refusing to look at Ed. “Yeah.”

Ed’s tone turned cautious, as if he already knew the answer to his question. “Skye who?”

“Yeah, it’s her.”

“So she’s real?” Serena leaned forward to see past him to Ed. “She’s not a figment of Mark’s imagination?”

Ed stared at him. “Are you fu—kidding me?”

Mark put down his fork and shoved his salad plate away. “Look, she’s not as bad as you think.”

Edward lowered his voice so only Mark could hear. “No doubt she’s great in bed.”

That was uncharacteristically crude and unacceptable—even from his best friend. Mark looked at Ed, and kept looking, until Ed glanced away.

“I didn’t mean that.”

Mark nodded and reached for his wine glass.

“He’s really dating someone?” Serena butted in.

“Looks that way.” Ed picked up his fork and knife and sawed at his chicken.

“What’s she like?” Noelle looked at Mark, and then her husband.

“She’s a reporter,” Ed said, as if that should have said it all.

“And...” Noelle prompted.

Ed held his utensils suspended over his plate and looked at Mark, waiting for him to satisfy the ladies’ curiosity. Still pissed at Ed’s insult to Skye, Mark was disinclined to help him out.

Noelle gave both men a raised-brow demand.

Ed sighed. “Skylar Kendall is about Serena’s age. Pretty. Brunette. Curly hair.”

“And...”

“I don’t know.” Ed shrugged. “We haven’t exactly met in person; she just verbally assaults me at press conferences and in every piece she writes.”

“Really?” Noelle drawled. Her eyebrows rose over twinkling eyes. “Should I be worried?”

“Not as long as my life insurance policy’s paid up,” he muttered. Ed turned to Mark. “Why in the hell are you dating her?”

The waiter cleared their dishes.

Since the question held more curiosity than heat, Mark relaxed and answered with the truth. “For you.”

Ed choked on his wine, coughing hard. Noelle patted him on the back as Ed wheezed and blotted weeping eyes with his napkin. He settled down and stared at Mark. “For me? I can’t wait to hear this.”

Mark sat back, enjoying Ed’s annoyance. “It was your idea. You were whining about her bugging you and suggested that I distract her to get her off your back. Remember?”

Ed scowled and looked at him as if he was missing more than a few brain cells. “I
wasn’t
serious.”

He shrugged. “She’s pretty. And I was curious to see why you’re such a target for her.”

“And?”

“And then, I liked her,” Mark admitted. “She’s smart, and kind, and fun.”

Ed scowled. “Did you find out why she hates me?”

Mark nodded.

“Ooh this is good.” Noelle broke in. “Hold that thought—gotta keep on schedule.” Noelle pushed back her chair and strode to the podium.

“Good evening. My name is Noelle Hastings and you’ve already met my co-chair, Serena Dutton-Michaels. As Serena said, we have an exciting line-up of speakers tonight, but first I’d like to introduce the guest who is going to present the Evelyn Hamill Chateaux Award.

“Our presenter is a long-time champion for families and for women’s rights. Just to highlight a few of his duties and accomplishments...” Noelle went on cataloging Ed’s credentials. “Please give a warm welcome to Michigan’s Senator…” She turned and smiled warmly at Ed, “And my husband, Edward Hastings.”

The room erupted in applause as Ed approached the podium. Eyes never leaving hers, Ed held out his hand and pulled Noelle forward to give his proud wife a kiss on the cheek. He slipped his notes to the podium and then looked up at the crowded room of two hundred and fifty.

“Thank you. Thank you very much for that warm welcome.” Ed looked at Noelle, then back at the audience. “Wow. With an introduction like that, where’s a guy to go from there? Maybe
she
should be the senator. She certainly could do the job. Like many women, my wife is enormously talented—in a multitude of areas, science included.”

Ed raised his eyebrows and made eye contact with several people in the audience. He really worked a crowd well. Mark tuned him out for the duration of the awards presentation. He clapped in the appropriate places, but wondered how soon he could cut out.

Maybe he’d run by the hospital on his way home and see if Skye was still there. He could have the chef wrap up a piece of dessert for her—and some for Faith, too. Maybe they’d go back to her place, put on a little romantic music and slow dance to Frank Sinatra again, before he flew her to the moon. She could stand on his feet again. He kind of liked the way that turned out last time.

Well, hell. Mark glanced to his right at Serena who sat head down, thumbs stabbing her phone, texting someone, then to his left across Ed’s empty seat to where Noelle sat listening to her husband’s speech. Thank God nobody could hear his thoughts.
Flew her to the moon?
Now he was thinking about Skye in clichés from old movies? He shook his head.

Ed announced the winner, shook her hand, and smiled for the pictures, then encouraged her to say a few words. He turned the program over to the Peace Corps doc and took the seat next to Mark. Each guest speaker talked for fifteen interminable minutes, though Mark couldn’t for the life of him remember what they’d said. At the end, he stood and clapped with the rest.

Ed took the podium again. “And let’s not forget to thank the wonderful sponsors of this event, Aviva Technology.” Ed waved Mark forward. “Mark, come up here.”

Mark shook his head and remained seated. Public speaking was Ed’s thing, not his. He didn’t crave the spotlight and didn’t need the thanks. It only embarrassed him. Which was exactly why Ed detached the microphone from podium and moved toward him. Asshole.

Ed grinned down at him. “Stand up, Mark.”

Mark leveled Ed a stare that promised retribution, then stood. Ed wasn’t going to go away, so he might as well get it over with. The spotlight shone brightly—not quite blinding, but annoying. It didn’t seem to bother Ed. Mark avoided looking at the crowd and fixed his gaze on the empty doors in back to wait Ed out.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mark Dutton of Aviva Technology.” Ed threw an arm around his shoulder and waited for the applause to die down. “I’ve known Mark here for a long time—ever since college, and he’s one of the most generous guys I know. He’s a little irksome at times—’cause he likes things his way—” Ed shrugged, good-naturedly. “And, of course, I like them mine, but when Noelle told him that she wanted to have this fundraiser but lacked the resources to host the dinner for this worthy cause, Mark stepped up and offered to have his company...”

Mark saw a movement at the back of the room. A woman stood in the doorway, slowly advancing. She stepped out of the shadows until her face became visible. Ed’s voice grew muffled, like Mark had cotton stuffed his ears, and his vision sharpened on Skye.

She’d piled her hair on the top of her head except for a few ringlets at her temples and one that curled around the base of her neck to her smooth, bare shoulders. Her dress snugly cradled her breasts, then fell in elegant waves to the floor. God, she was stunning. And looked confused. Even from across the room he could see her frown and melting smile.

Mark was suddenly conscious of Ed’s arm thrown across his shoulder and how that would look to her. His stomach soured and churned. Of all the ways he’d imagined telling her he and Ed were friends, this was
not
one of them. Skye’s steps slowed, and her body tensed to military rigidity.

Shit. Shit. Shit
. Conscious of their audience, Mark fought the urge to shrug out of Ed’s embrace.

There was a long pause; must be his turn to talk. Mark took the microphone Ed held out to him. “Thanks, Ed. Aviva is pleased to have the opportunity to help this worthy organization.”

Skye crossed her arms. Her angry gaze made him feel ashamed and desperate. Desperate to explain the mess he’d created. Desperate to beg her forgiveness. At this point, begging remained his only recourse.

“We at Aviva strive to hire the best in the industry. We’ve been lucky enough to find several bright women and we’d love to continue the tradition of helping women achieve their potential.”

Skye suddenly spun on her heel and headed for the door. Mark’s heart jump-started, like a fidgety racehorse bursting from the gate. His leg muscles bunched as he pivoted on the balls of his feet, ready to run after her. “Skye, wait! Please!”

People’s heads turned, following his gaze to see whom he was shouting at.

Skye’s stride faltered, and she looked over her shoulder. The spotlight leapt from him and Ed, landing on Skye, blinding her so that she squinted and raised a protective hand to shade her eyes. She grabbed her skirt and sprinted for the door, but not before he’d seen her horror-filled expression.
Damn it
.

“Um...” Mark fumbled with his thoughts before rapid-fire finishing, “But they need donations to be able to continue encouraging young women, so please be generous.”

He thrust the mic in Ed’s hand and darted around the dinner tables. Ignoring Ed’s comments and the applause, Mark jogged to the doors and rushed through them. A quick glance left and then right showed an empty lobby. Bathroom or parking lot? Beyond the tall cream curtains, he glimpsed a shot of black moving through the glass breezeway.

Mark spotted a shortcut through the formal gardens. He pushed through the glass doors and burst out into the cold, dark garden. A shadow hurried along the stucco wall. He ran down the flagstaff walk. “Skye.”

Skye ran through the iron gate. Mark dashed around the short hedge and ran through the arched doorway as Skye rounded the courtyard fountain. “Skylar, wait!”

Without looking back, Skye hitched up her skirt, but high heels and cobblestone encumbered her escape. She was going to twist an ankle running like that. Mark grabbed a bare arm and tugged her to a stop between the bronze lion sentinels. “Wait. Please.”

“Let go,” Skye’s voice was thick with unshed tears, her face a mask of pain. Her chest rose and fell deeply with each breath. The lighted fountain behind him splashed, constant, noisy, mocking, as if emphasizing the thousands of invisible tears draining her heart. Pain and tears he’d caused.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you,” Mark said.

Arms tightly wrapped around her bare arms, Skye whirled on him. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Ya think?”

Mark shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, then tried to draw her close to his chest so he wouldn’t have to look at the hurt and betrayal distorting her sweet face, but she pulled away.

“I’m sorry.” He held his arms out.

Skye held his gaze as if building an invisible shield that would protect her from him while she eased backward, putting first inches and then feet between them.

Mark wanted to grab her to keep her from running again but sensed that would do more harm than good. He held a hand out to her. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

Skye glanced at his hand as if afraid to take her eyes off him. What’d she think he was going to do?

Mark took a step forward. “I was going to tell you. I... It was never the right time. I didn’t know what to say.”

She froze. Anger blazed through her narrowed eyes and she took a step toward him. “How about, ‘Ha, ha the joke’s on you, Skye?’ What, was this a stupid bet or something? See how long it takes to get the pain-in-the-ass reporter into bed? How much did you lose?” She fumbled through her purse. “I only have a twenty, but surely I’m worth more than that.” Skye crushed the bill in her fist and pitched it at him. “This’ll have to do.”

The bill bounced off his chest and fell to the cobblestone. Skye thought she was the victim of some cruel adolescent joke? Mark spoke in a soft soothing voice as he slowly moved closer. “There’s no bet. Ed didn’t know about you until tonight either.”

Skye dashed tears from her eyes and looked at him, beseeching. “Then why? Why would you do that to me?”

“God, you’re breaking my heart.” Mark grabbed her stiff body and gathered her into his arms. He pulled her head to his chest over his thudding heart. He closed his eyes and pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m
sorry
,” he whispered. “So sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” He rubbed her back, trying to infuse some heat into her, as if physical warmth would engender emotional warmth and forgiveness. “I saw you on TV at that press conference at the airport. You were so passionate and angry. Then Ed told me how you’d been bugging him with your articles. Most women adore Ed; I was curious about the one who didn’t. That guy hitting on you gave me the perfect opening—so I took it.”

“You made a fool of me.”

The hurt in her muffled words squeezed his heart. “I didn’t.” He shook his head. “I
never
thought that. I just couldn’t take the chance that you’d walk away before we got to know each other. And then, I couldn’t find a way to tell you.”

Skye drew back, frowning. She swiped the tears from under her eyes. “You really expect me to believe that?”

“It’s true.”

“I told you about Niki.” Skye’s eyes widened and she pulled away. “So
that’s
why you wanted me to get to know the senator. You’re just trying to make life easier for your pal.”

“Guilty there.” Mark took her chilled hands in his, allowing her some space but needing to hold her. “Edward’s my best friend. He’s a good man. But how could I have told you after I knew why you resented him? Knowing about Niki only made it harder because I understood your blaming him. But I hoped that once you knew a little more about Ed, you’d see that he does a lot of good in other ways. He’s really a good guy, Skye.”