Eleanor rolled her eyes at Theresa. “Apparently, we’re late for this mystery event,” she said, rushing to keep up with Trey’s long-legged stride. Theresa just grinned broadly, waving at Eleanor.
“You told Theresa, didn’t you?” Eleanor said as they waited for the elevator, hand in hand. There’d been something knowing about Theresa’s smile just now.
“Told her what?” Trey asked, deadpan.
“Whatever the mystery is,” Eleanor said, reaching to straighten his tie. It was a likely excuse to touch him. He looked fantastic, wearing a dark blue suit, a blue and silver striped tie and a white shirt that set off the golden brown tan he’d acquired in a recent trip they’d taken to Fiji. The primal urge she’d had since the first day she saw him up close in the coffee shop to bite him all over had only gotten stronger in the past several months. Sometimes, Eleanor wondered humorously if there was such a thing as sexual cannibalism. She restrained herself from nibbling on him now with effort.
“I think my mother knows the mystery too. You must be blabbing about it to all the women in your life, aside from me.”
The elevator door opened and Trey hurried her inside the car.
“What is it?” she couldn’t help but prod him, her curiosity mounting by the second due to his tense, preoccupied mood. “Are you going to whisk me off to London for another surprise concert? Or is it dinner with another celebrity? I hope they like Italian food. I’m starving,” she said, rubbing her hollow stomach. “I worked straight through lunch on the Authors of Illinois exhibit.”
“It’s not anything half so fancy as that. But there’ll be food.”
“Well, that’s fine with me. I’m not in the mood for celebrity schmoozing anyway. I don’t want anything fancy tonight. Trey, why are you frowning?” she asked suddenly when a shadow crossed his face.
“Nothing. I just hope this—”
He cut himself off suddenly, and Eleanor was only cast further at sea. What had him in such a wired, weird mood?
They left his office building and walked out onto a glorious early spring evening. The weather matched her mood. She knew it was corny to think it, but her mood was almost always sunny and bright, ever since Trey had become a permanent part of her world. Yes, she still experienced some black moments when she acutely missed Caddy. But that was only natural, and she’d learned to feel her grief, to move through it instead of fighting it.
For the most part, she felt like every day was a fresh new adventure. Life had taken on a golden sheen, and she owed it all to the dynamic, sexy . . . brooding man next to her.
What was up with him, anyway?
“Where are we going?” Eleanor wondered, straining to keep up with him as they turned down Madison Avenue and walked toward the bridge. She was starting to get used to the amazing surprises life with Trey Riordan offered: jetting off to London or Paris for a work engagement that typically involved meeting amazing artists and watching them perform, or him surprising her with thoughtful gifts for no particular reason, like a rare first-edition copy of Pride and Prejudice, a beautiful gold and pearl necklace, and even—her favorite—a pair of genuine fur fans that Sally Rand herself had owned and used for her dances. They’d already put those to very good use.
“You’ll see where we’re going soon enough,” Trey muttered, pulling her along. He led her down a flight of stairs.
“Isn’t this the entrance to the water taxi? Are the water taxis even running yet?” she asked him.
“They technically don’t start until tomorrow,” he said. A bright yellow water taxi was pulled up next to the quay when they reached it. Eleanor looked at it in amazement.
“Wait . . . isn’t this the one—”
“Yeah. It’s the exact same one we took last November,” Trey said. They approached an older, stocky man, and Trey shook his hand in greeting. “Eleanor, this is Reggie. Reggie, this is the lady I was telling you about.”
“Pleasure to see you again, ma’am,” the man said.
“You were our pilot last November,” Eleanor said, smiling in disbelief and a little embarrassment.
Reggie’s pale blue eyes sparkled beneath the cap he wore. “That’s right. This time, Mr. Riordan is paying me not to go upstairs and oust you, though.” Heat flushed her cheeks at the recollection of what Reggie had interrupted on their last trip. “Come on board. We’re all set to go,” he told Trey.
She followed
Trey up to the enclosed deck. She saw with dawning amazement that a small table had been set up. On it was placed a basket, a vase of wildflowers, a bucket of chilling champagne and two flutes.
“You planned all this?” she asked him when he led her over to the exact same seats where they’d sat last November. She saw his small smile before he turned and began filling the flutes with champagne.
“It wasn’t easy, hunting down our pilot and talking him into this,” he said as he poured the champagne. “But at least because of the trouble we gave him, he remembered us,” he added, humor glinting in his eyes as he handed her a champagne glass and sat down next to her. She laughed softly, feeling so full. So happy. The taxi left the quay, easing out on the river. The view rolled slowly past them, but she only had eyes for him.
“You know, for someone who claimed he didn’t know the first thing about romance when we met, you sure are an expert at it now,” she said, taking a sip of champagne.
He leaned back next to her, his blue eyes flashing with humor and heat. “You really think so?”
She glanced out at the stunning scenery, and the flowers, and the champagne . . . and him, her heart in her eyes.