Wayward Dreams (27 page)

“Already has a pair of state junior records,” Dench added.

AJ moved the photos again. “This is her mother.”

Looking at the picture, Harry sighed. Easy to see where the pretty little girl had gotten her bright eyes and charming smile. “Beautiful. She's an ex-Olympian, right?”

Dench couldn't help grinning. “You don't even want to hear the story on that one. She's a runner, still fast, and you've got to know she keeps our boy running to keep up with her.”

“Like you can talk,” AJ sneered, flipping to a picture of his sister and nieces. “You remember my sister?”

“Rissa Yarborough.” Harry smiled and said, “Oh, yeah, I definitely remember her.”

Pushing AJ's hand to the side, Dench pulled his phone out. “I've got this. I married her; these are my kids, so I get the pleasure of showing them off.” Flipping quickly, he displayed Rissa and his daughters. Rissa was still gorgeous. Faith and Cherish were pretty girls and Harry could see traces of their parents in their young faces.

“You two have wives and kids. All I can show you is the projects I've worked on and the women I've dated.”

“Could be worse, dude. At least you can get a date.”

When Harry said nothing, AJ looked at him. “You
can
get a date, can't you? This woman you're falling for, she's not imaginary, is she?”

Harry's smile went crooked. “I can get a date. As a matter of fact, the woman I've been seeing is pretty special.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means she's smart and funny. I love to hear her talk, she understands who I am, and I could spend a long time with her.”

“Pretty?”

“Gorgeous.”

“And you don't have any pictures—right.” AJ huffed again, clearly disbelieving. “No pictures, and you sound like you're about ready to commit to this woman.”

“Women find commitment real sexy, dude.”

“I think anyone would.”

Both AJ and Dench leaned forward to look at him. Their eyes met, and they shook their heads slowly.

“What?” Cornered, Harry's shoulders rose and fell.

“Hear how he said that? He said she's, ‘pretty special.' He could spend a long time with her.”

“Bet you had to look long and hard to find a woman like her, huh?”

“No, I wasn't really looking for her, but I've got to admit I woke up one day wondering whether a woman like her really existed. Then I got here, and my brother and her sister set us up on a blind date, and there she was.”

“You know what that means, don't you?”

Harry looked from AJ to Dench. “What?”

“You're a married man walking—get used to it. We'll be playing ‘Here Comes the Groom' and eating wedding cake with you soon.”

AJ held out his hand. “So let's see her. For real, do you have a picture?”

“No, I downloaded the ones off my phone.” The pictures of Bianca were still there on the phone, but they belonged to him. In time, if things worked out, AJ and Dench would get to meet her in person. They would just have to wait until then.

AJ gripped Harry's shoulder in mock sympathy. “I feel for you, man. There's nothing like knowing that there is one right woman, and seeing it in her eyes and on her face when she looks at you.” He gave Harry's shoulder a thump and shook his head.

Like AJ, Dench moved his head from side to side. “I got lucky, always knew Rissa was right for me, that we were meant for each other. But, dude, before my boy here got to the right one, shoot, he had to kiss a frog.”

‘Kiss a frog?' Is that some saying I just forgot about?
Harry smiled. Bianca had called herself a frog that day in the kitchen.

“That ain't funny,” AJ muttered. “Don't call her a frog. Bianca was just going for everything she thought she was entitled to.”

Bianca? Coincidence? Has to be.
Harry settled back in his seat, knowing there was no way in the world he was going to pull out his own phone and ask if…No way was he going to take the chance that the woman he was falling in love with had more than a common name. He tried to hold it back, but the question fell out anyway. “What did she think she was entitled to?”

“Don't start me to lyin', dude. She's a smart, good-looking woman, but I was never her confidante and I'm not trying to gossip. AJ was the one with the relationship.”

AJ shook his head and twisted his lips. “You can always tell a friend, can't you? Just sell a brother out in public.”

Harry laughed and then waited for the rest of the story.

“I almost married the woman, is all. Found out Bianca and I had two different agendas. Different definitions of faithful and commitment, and I had to step away,” AJ said, and then he laid a big hand on his heart and smiled. “Then I met Marlea, and life got good.”

“Without Bianca,” Harry said.

“Without Bianca. I wish her well. Who knows, with some time, with the right man…”

Dench's brow furrowed. “In which lifetime?”

AJ slapped at him and shook his head. “She'll be fine with the right man.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, looking back at the players still running across the field.

Couldn't be the same woman. Could it?

CHAPTER 17

Feeling a little guilty, Harry woke up and rolled onto his back, knowing what he was going to do. After hanging out with AJ and Dench, he hadn't been able to put her name and what could only be a coincidence out of his mind.

He looked to the side of the bed where she slept when they were together. The spot was cold and empty; she was already gone. She was spending the day at Vive la Reine, getting ready for the reception that would announce her grand reopening. Harry sighed and stared up at the ceiling.

I knew I was going to do this from the moment I heard her name pass his lips.

Tempted to work from home, Harry pushed the sheet low and sat up. What he had in mind felt like deception, and he didn't want to let it touch his home. Swinging his feet to the floor, he stood slowly. It would be easier to do what he had in mind here, but maybe the walk to the office would clear his thoughts, let him see how ridiculous this whole thing was.

There are a lot of women named Bianca. It doesn't have to be her.

Harry headed for the shower and tried to avoid thoughts of ‘sloppy seconds'.
I already know there have been other men in her life—but AJ?
Harry's conscience sent a rush of ice through him, and he thought of Karen Dodge.
That was like, the perfect time for her to have said something.
He put brakes on his thoughts.
She wasn't the one keeping a secret. I was the one who wanted to leave the past in the past, and now I'm tripping over what and who might be in her past. Patti-cake would say the pot was calling the kettle black.
And it didn't make him feel a bit better.

Trying to clear his head, he knew there was no point in worrying, but that didn't stop doubt from pulling at him. His face was tight when he reached into the shower to turn on the water. Stepping in, the cool water temperature didn't faze him.
I'm a secur
ity expert; anything I can't find is not worth knowing. I'll check her out and then what? What am I going to do if she is the same woman?

Can't be.
His thoughts shifted to the words of a Japanese fortune teller his mother had browbeaten him into seeing before leaving Tokyo. The
seimehandan
had counted the kanji strokes of his name and said,
“After challenge, you are destined for the love of a lifetime.”

Damn a challenge.
Harry scooped water into his face, then turned up the water force. Scrubbing hard, letting cold water hit his skin, Harry closed his eyes and shut off his thoughts. Concentrating on his breathing, he thought of his mother again. Raised in Japan, she'd come to America as a student and fallen in love. She'd borne her children and lived a contented middle class American life in Atlanta, but under stress she retreated to her Japanese roots and placed her faith in the words of psychics and fortunetellers. A
nd here I am, doing the same thing.

Leaving the shower, he debated shaving—why bother? Then he went back. It was when you gave up on the little things that the big ones rolled over you.

Dressing, heading to his office, Harry couldn't get her name out of his head or her face out of his heart. When he walked through the Museum Tower lobby and out onto the street, he was almost glad to see that the day was as gray as his thoughts. Walking, he remembered that rain was expected—the dark day suited his dark mood. Hell, if this kept up, he might yet accomplish the task he'd set for himself.

Standing on the corner of Baker and Peachtree Streets, he kicked at a small stone and watched it bounce into the street while he waited for the light to change.
She can't be the same woman.
He tried to remember what Dench called that other Bianca and failed.
Whatever.

Harry stepped into the street and narrowly missed being hit by a small van racing to beat the changing traffic light.
Great. I get killed in traffic and then I never have to worry about another thing.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and couldn't stop his head from drooping as he walked down Peachtree Street thinking about Bianca.

She's the first woman I've ever truly wanted to buy roses for, the one I want to keep safe, the one I want to come home to every night.

And I don't want to share that with AJ, or any other man in the world.

Knowing what he was headed to his office to do made him all the more reluctant to do it and Harry's feet turned into the coffee shop on the ground floor of his building. Ordering coffee he wouldn't drink and a scone he wouldn't eat, he over-tipped the barista and headed for his office.

Standing at the small chrome and glass desk, Deb looked up in time to see him push through the glass doors. Dropping her head fast, she pretended an interest she didn't have in the report she held. Harry walked closer. At second glance, he didn't look bad, just deeply preoccupied.
Woman trouble
, she guessed.

Feeling her eyes, Harry smiled and lifted his cup in her direction as he walked to his office.
Definitely woman trouble
. Deb had seen him like this only once before, during his affair with Karen Dodge, and Ms. Dodge had wounded him.
But he survived her.

Men like Haru Jordan loved their women like it was a matter of life or death, and what he had with this new woman was an investment.
I wonder if they know that?

Deb turned several pages of the report without reading them. Love could be interesting, but for a man who never saw it coming…well, for such a man
ai
could either make or break him. Haru was not a man made to be broken. Deb sucked in her cheeks, her eyes tracking Harry's path.
It will be interesting to see how all of this works out for Haru. Interesting, indeed.

Around the corner, behind his closed door, waiting for his computer to digest the information he loaded, Harry sat back in his chair and rolled up his sleeves. It took two tries to type her name correctly, and, for a long minute, his mind refused to connect with her date of birth, but he finally got it right. Letting the computer run, tracking her name, he made the connections he sought and found several news items featuring her name. Toying with his cooling coffee, he found articles and announcements linked to her design work.

But no scandal, nothing that would buy her any jail time.
He told himself he was grateful—for her sake. He checked Fulton County and Georgia state records. He breathed easier when he found nothing amiss. Still working through criminal information, he absently answered his cellphone.

“Hey, it's AJ. I called to invite you to dinner.”

“Man, I just left you and Dench, and here you are again this morning.”

“Yeah, well, you know how it is. I've got a good life, and, ‘of those to whom much is given, much is required'. I'm just trying to do my part.”

“You told your wife I was homeless and pitiful, didn't you?”

“Yeah, I did.” AJ sounded a little sheepish.

“I can't believe you,” Harry laughed. “You always were big on showboating.”

“Can't a man invite a friend to his home? I told Marlea about you. She said it sounded like you had a lean and hungry look about you, that you could probably stand a good home-cooked meal.”

Interested, Harry leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Your wife's a good cook?”

“Marlea? Not in this life, but she orders a really good dinner,” AJ said and laughed. “We lucked up on a great housekeeper who also happens to be a great cook. Come on out and bring your lady friend. It'll be fun, and you'll get to meet my family.”

“Showoff. Let me say ‘maybe' for now, and I'll get back to you.”

“I'll take that for now, but listen man, I really want us to get together again, soon.”

“For sure, I'll let you know.”

Harry ended the call and looked at the display on his computer. Most of the last set of links he'd turned up were articles where Bianca talked about her designs. He continued to search. Finding references from her past in New York to her present in Atlanta, he saw proof of the passion that had her working with the Winston sisters and trying to salvage Vive la Reine. But nothing connecting her to AJ Yarborough.

This is a waste of time. She's not the woman who broke his heart.

His cellphone vibrated at his elbow. Distracted, he answered and smiled at the sound of Bianca's voice.

“So what are you doing?”

Harry glanced at the screen, then shrugged off the guilt and turned his chair to face the window. “Just working, trying to make up for the time I took off yesterday. It was good to see the guys after so long.” He glanced at his watch. “I've got a teleconference in about an hour.”

Resigning herself to his absence, she sighed a little. “Sounds like a busy day. I was hoping you might have a little time for lunch.”

“I just got a call from my friend. He and his wife invited us to dinner. Want to go?”

“Harry, you just got back.”

“Yeah, I know. I told AJ we might not be able to make it.” Straining to hear, Harry could have sworn he heard her gasp, but she covered it.

“AJ?” Her voice became wary. “That's your friend's name?”

“Yes. AJ Yarborough. Do you know him?”

“Yes, of him,” she said softly, and Harry was fairly certain she hesitated. Then her voice changed, becoming rushed and breathy. “You should go and enjoy your friend, and we'll do something together later. How does that sound?”

Sounds like you're nervous.
“Depends on what you mean by something.” He could hear her relax and smile right through the phone.

“We'll start with dessert and see what develops from there.”

“I'll let you know what I decide.”

Hanging up, Harry felt silly. Just because the name was the same, just because he thought he heard something in her voice, none of it meant anything. Not really. Deciding that what he knew was enough, Harry absently tapped a few more keys.

Don't even know why I was worried, or why it even mattered.
His fingers danced lightly over the keyboard.
Might as well shut this down. Coincidences happen…
The thought died as the photo formed. Bianca's face appeared, her cheek pressed close to AJ's, and a big cake-eating grin on her face. The hand she rested on his shoulder was turned to the camera displaying a ring with a stone the size of a walnut. Harry swallowed hard and enlarged the screenshot of the engagement photo from the
Atlanta Journal-Constitution
.

My Bianca was
his
Bianca.

Harry had to leap from his chair, to avoid the sudden river of coffee flowing over his desk. He couldn't remember crushing the cup, but the evidence was still in his fist. Unable to find a reason to hold onto it, he flung the cup across the room and turned away from the mess.

It was raining now, the water slapping angrily against the windows, and Harry couldn't find a single emotion to pin hope or hate to. Looking out the rain-spattered window, he felt numb.

How could she claim to care enough about a man to marry him, say she would spend the rest of her life with him, and then try to incinerate him with carelessness?

And she was mad about Karen.
Feeling the numbness morph into anger, Harry looked out at the rain. Karen was his personal mess.

But Bianca…
She'd been with his friend, a man he'd been friends with for most of their lives. Wasn't there some kind of etiquette that said a man couldn't get with a friend's ex? If there was, what did it take to override it? Whatever it took, he didn't want to even imagine her with AJ.

His hand was hot when he pressed it against the cool glass window. Leaning forward, he let his forehead rest against the glass.
I was worried about the pot calling the kettle black—maybe I should have been more worried about myself. There had been other men in her life, but why did AJ Yarborough have to be one of them? And why can't I just man up and deal with it? She didn't lie about him, not yet, and I don't know that she would.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda—damn it, he still cared about her, and it didn't matter that he should walk away from her. Maybe he would. Then standing there staring out at the earnest rain he realized he couldn't. Not and still feel whole.

A painful little hiccup of amazement stopped his breath. If anyone had asked when he'd fallen in love with Bianca, he wasn't sure he could have strung the right words together, but it was almost from the moment she'd walked through the door at Dugan's.

He thought about the day he found her downstairs; they were supposed to meet and she was early. When he found her, she was watching the children in the museum. A little boy came up to her, and the look on her face twisted Harry's heart. She took the little boy to the only other adult in the room—apparently getting permission before taking the child to a wall of tiny fishing poles—and he saw another side of her.

There was nothing sensual or sexual in her movements when she showed the child how to cast the little rod into a narrow stream and reel in a plastic numbered fish. There was nothing selfish in her attention to the boy, nothing false in the obvious pleasure she took in his happiness. When she left the child and looped her arm with his, Harry knew he loved her for more than her pretty face.

Then Karen had to blow into town.
His smile was small and hard, almost a crack in his handsome veneer.
I was the one who said we should leave the past behind us.

Just, damn it, why did her past have to be with AJ?

* * *

Why did AJ have to be his friend?
Bianca twisted the watch on her wrist and looked out of Vive la Reine's front window. It was raining cats and dogs, and some of the storm came through the door when Jenni rushed in with her broken umbrella. Shaking off the water, she pushed the door closed.