Accidental Tryst Read online

  “Hey, Patty. What’s up?”

  She looped her arm through Angie’s as they walked side by side down the hall. “You know I’m not much into playing cupid,” she started. Oh, here it comes! “But there is someone I want you to meet. I think you two would get along great.”

  Angie stopped walking and turned to face her friend. “I don’t know, Patty. I think it’s too early for me to be dating anyone—”

  Patty held her hands up. “I know. I get that. Don’t think of this as a date. Look, I told him all about you, and he can’t wait to meet you.”

  “Patty,” she exclaimed.

  “Please don’t be mad. He’s very nice. He has no expectations, but I promise it will be worth your time. Think of it as free dinner.” She gave shy smile.

  Angie sighed aloud. Oh geez! “If I do this, will you promise to never try and fix me up with anyone else again?” she said in a firm tone.

  “Yes, absolutely. His name is Bruce. Can I give him your cell number?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You haven’t already?”

  Patty’s smile brightened. “You won’t regret this.”

  Angie had the distinct feeling she already did.

  The next day, Angie’s cell phone rang, a number she didn’t recognize. Ugh! She hated telemarketing calls.

  “This is Angie.”

  “Angie, hi. It’s Bruce Livengood. A friend of Patty’s.”

  “Yes. Hi, Bruce.”

  “Hi. So glad I got a hold of you. Patty’s told me so much about you. I was hoping I might take you out to dinner, get to know you a bit more.”

  Crap! Her heart skipped a beat. She’d been separated just a few weeks. This could not be happening. “Bruce, I’m not sure if Patty told you, but I’m married.” Geez, that was harsh.

  “Separated. Yes, she had.”

  She sighed.

  The tone in his voice lowered. “I understand what you must be going through. I’ve been divorced myself. I’m not looking for anything other than a quiet dinner, with delicious food and beautiful company.”

  Beautiful company? What did Patty say?

  Maybe conversation with someone who’d been through what she’d been going through would be therapeutic. Maybe even speed the healing time or whatever. She sighed again.

  “Okay, Bruce. But I’ll meet you somewhere.” She’d preferred not to have the boys see her going on a date, at least not yet.

  “Sure, sounds great. How about next Friday night at Villa Richard. Say seven?”

  Friday meant football games. “I can’t do Friday nights. How is Saturday?”

  “I need to leave town then. I can do next Thursday. Will that work?”

  “Sure. That’s fine.”

  “Great, Angie. I’m looking forward to it.”

  She sighed and stared at the phone for a moment before slipping it back in her bag. What had she gotten herself into?

  Camille—who seemed to be making more personal visits than usual—rapped on his door. Where the heck is Mimi?

  He waved her in as he sent an email to Dylan, one of his sales & marketing managers.

  “I have the numbers from the water recycling study.” She handed him the manila folder.

  That he wanted to see.

  She walked to the side of his desk to lean as he opened the folder. The document gave costs for equipment and installation, adjustments in the current manufacturing line—which weren’t terrible—and water savings. His eyes rounded.

  “Yup.” Camille smiled. “Once we get this up and running in Dallas, we can save two-hundred million gallons of water next year alone.” She pointed to the bottom of the report. “Then, once we do a full rollout we’re looking at five hundred and eighty million gallons of water saved.”

  “This is unbelievable.” He continued to scan. The report was thorough and seemed absolutely attainable once the equipment was brought online. “Incredible.”

  “You’re incredible,” she broke his focus.

  He lifted his chin and faced her, not certain he’d heard her right.

  “That was an incredible idea you had,” she added. She motioned with her head. “That copy is yours. I’ll keep you posted as I get more details.” She slid her hand down his forearm, flashed him one last smile, and headed out to the hall.

  Mac sat dumbfounded. Was it his imagination, or was Camille flirting with him? He didn’t want to say anything just yet and embarrass them both. He’d give it some time, but he knew one thing for certain. Even if he couldn’t get back together with Angie, an office affair was never a good idea.

  He cringed at the thought of “an affair.” The guilt over what happened with Victoria ate at him. And he had no idea how to fix it.

  Currently, avoidance through excessive hours at the office, followed by strenuous working out at the gym, was his plan.

  He stared out the window, a million thoughts racing through his head. Angie, and how the hell to win her back. Well, screwing around was a recipe for disaster.

  And Camille. What the hell was up with her lately? They were business associates. That’s it.

  The epiphany hit Mac like a lightning bolt. For the first time, he had a clearer understanding of what women must deal with when they received unwanted advances. He personally followed the HR rules. It never crossed his mind to not treat a woman with respect. But on the same token, he knew some men would push the boundaries and even cross the line. Now, he recognized just how those women felt.

  Well shit!

  Chapter Thirteen

  At seven o’clock, Angie arrived at Villa Richard. She’d fed the boys and told them to finish their homework before any electronic use, not that they needed to be told. They didn’t question her when she said she had a dinner meeting and would be home in a few hours.

  Striding to the host stand, she said, “Hello. I’m meeting Bruce Livengood.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Right this way.” The host greeted her with a nod and a polite smile.

  Angie had been to Villa Richard before, years ago, with Mac. The restaurant offered some of the finest prime steak and seafood Dallas had to offer, definitely five-star. Following the host, she took in the richly-appointed space—dimly lit, with cloth napkins, wineglasses at every table, and floor-to-ceiling drapes on the windows. She briefly wondered if the art pieces were originals or reproductions.

  She arrived at the table, and Bruce rose, adjusting the shirt cuffs under his jacket.

  “Good evening,” he said and leaned forward to peck her cheek.

  Well, I give Patty some credit; her friend has good taste in clothes. Bruce wore a dark blue suit, white shirt, and red striped tie. Angie caught a subtle hint of sandalwood in his cologne. His broad shoulders and flat midsection reminded her of Mac. Despite his receding hairline, Bruce was reasonably handsome.

  “Good evening,” she replied with a soft smile.

  “I’m so glad you could make it. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

  Angie believed him. Regardless of the dim light, his pupils dilated more with every second she was there. She’d worn a straight skirt and silk blouse to work that day, and just swapped out her shoes for higher heels, fluffed her hair, and freshened her makeup for their date.

  She was proud of herself for her appearance lately. At her age, her metabolism had been slowing down. For too long, she’d denied it, but knew she had to stop burying her head in the sand. Working out at the nearby gym wasn’t her idea of fun, but if she was gonna be out on the market . . .

  The sommelier approached the table, dressed similarly to the host—black suit and bow tie with a crisp white shirt. Could it be because when she came here with Mac, she never paid attention to what the serving staff wore? “Evening, folks. Can I assist you in a selection of wine to complement your dinner?”

  Bruce held the wine list in his hand, but hadn’t opened it. “What are feeling like today, Angie, something red or white?”

  How many calories are in a glass of wine? She’d never bother
ed to think about it.

  “I think I’ll have seafood tonight, so maybe white.” She couldn’t decide if she sounded congenial or timid. She forced a deep breath.

  She fiddled with her napkin. She hadn’t been on a date in years.

  The sommelier made some recommendations as he pointed to the wine list. Bruce ordered a bottle of something expensive-sounding. She and Mac really hadn’t purchased expensive wines. Maybe for a special occasion. But generally she’d pick up a bottle or two from the grocery store and whatever she bought seemed to suit Mac just fine. That and beer.

  Stop thinking about Mac.

  “So, Patty tells me you do Public Relations for l’Amour.”

  “Yes. I’ve been there for about six years, and I love it.” She gave him a genuine smile. “Patty hasn’t told me much about you. What do you do, Bruce?”

  “I work in finance, well, treasury really, for Mettman Holdings. I’ve been there for almost five years.”

  A waiter filled two glasses with ice water and walked away. Then the sommelier returned and, after Bruce’s approval, poured them each a half-glass.

  “To a wonderful evening.” Bruce stretched his arm, raising his glass in her direction.

  Angie clinked her glass with his and took a healthy sip. “Delicious.”

  They took the opportunity to peruse the menu. As with most high-end restaurants, the menu was short but rich in variety.

  “What looks good?” Bruce asked from across the small rectangular table.

  “I’m thinking about the Scallops Provencal.” She hadn’t made scallops in years. She had a recipe Mac loved—heavy on the butter and lemon. Yum. Maybe she should hunt for that soon, if only to make it for the boys.

  “Hmm. I think I’ll go with the salmon.”

  The waitress looked about mid-twenties with her brown hair pulled back, dressed in a black skirt, white button-down shirt, and a black vest with a red VR embroidered on the chest. “Good evening, folks. I’m Jessica. Would we like an appetizer to begin with?”

  Bruce glanced up from his menu. “See anything interesting, Angie?”

  Oh, geez. She rarely ordered an appetizer. Shouldn’t she just order her meal?

  Relax.

  “Whatever you’d like,” she said with a small smile.

  He ordered the jumbo shrimp cocktail. They still hadn’t ordered their entrees. She took a large sip of her wine.

  “So, as I was saying, I do finance for Mettman. Some people don’t know but one of the ways companies make money is buying and selling currency.”

  Angie raised a brow. “You do currency trading?” She definitely did not expect that from a technology company. Clearly, she’d underestimated many behind-the-scenes functions of most companies.

  “Well, that’s part of it. The understanding of foreign exchange products and services is my main responsibility.” He pitched forward in his chair slightly and pushed his shoulders back. “Just last month I was in Japan for a week investigating some investment opportunities in G10 currencies.”

  Bruce was obviously proud of his job, and although some of what he said went over her head, she could see Bruce was an intelligent man.

  “Enough about me. Do you have any kids?”

  “Yes, two teenage boys. One plays basketball, the other football.”

  “Nice. I bet you cart them all around then.”

  “Yes.” She couldn’t wait until Stuart got his driver’s license, although then he’d want a car, and that just wasn’t in the budget while in the middle of a . . .

  “I have two boys myself and one girl. The boys are nineteen and seventeen, and Ella is twelve.” The twinkle in his eye brightened when he spoke of his daughter. “She’s so adorable when she Skypes me when I travel. I think it’s mostly to make sure I bring her back a present,” he said with a grin.

  Mac believed in that, early on, bringing home gifts for her and the boys. She appreciated the surprise because he’d made an effort to think about what they each would like. That was something that had slowly trickled away.

  Finally their appetizer arrived. Her lunch had worn off and she now felt distracted and on edge; hopefully the food would help.

  She reached for a shrimp and dunked it in the cocktail sauce. “Mmm.” Simply divine.

  Bruce nodded. “These are exceptional.”

  “Are your boys interested in sports?” she asked between bites.

  “Yes, Kyle likes soccer and Phillip likes baseball. Ella has also taken a liking to soccer, so things get pretty chaotic sometimes. My ex-wife and I have to coordinate our schedules too. I do the best I can when I’m in town.”

  Oh Lord. Another family-man who travels. She could feel the ex’s pain.

  Angie stared at the empty glass dish that held the shrimp. She squirmed in her seat, needing to eat. Needing to talk about something other than men who travel leaving their wives to carry the load.

  When did you turn so cynical?

  “Everything alright, Angie?”

  “Maybe we should order.” She softened her facial features to meet his gaze.

  “Yes, of course.” He scanned the restaurant for the waitress. “I’m getting hungry, too.”

  After they ordered, Bruce continued with a travel story. “This past summer I was in London. Wonderful city. I could not get over the sun rising at four forty-five in the morning.”

  Was that right? That’s early.

  His eyes rounded. “Surprising, right.” He drank from his wineglass. “Have you ever been to London?”

  “No. Although I’d love to go sometime.” She savored another sip of wine and sat back in her chair.

  “It’s wonderful.”

  She got that. She bit her lip, holding back a laugh.

  “First of all, it’s nice that everyone speaks English as well. When you go, you must see a play.” He gestured with his hand, palm up.

  Just as she was about to ask what play he’d apparently gone to, he went full-steam ahead.

  “I was able to catch Phantom of the Opera,” he said with a wave. “Such talent. However, you could see Lion King or 42nd Street or Les Miserables.”

  “Really?” She nodded, trying to act interested. She was at least thankful he wasn’t talking about his work.

  “Yes. And every play has its own theater. Genius. But anyway, in between my bank meetings and conference calls, I had an excellent opportunity to see the city.”

  Yes, the wonderful city. She wiped her mouth with her napkin to stifle her giggle.

  The waitress appeared, carrying food on her tray. It smelled so incredible, Angie’s eyes tracked the plate of scallops placed before her.

  Bruce smiled as he was served. “Thank you.”

  Jessica refilled their wineglasses. “Anything else I can get you both?”

  Oh yes. Keep that wine coming. “No, thank you.”

  Jessica left and before Angie could take a bite, Bruce spoke. “Angie, the evening has barely started and I am having a wonderful time. You are so easy to talk to,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  Angie smiled and tilted her head. She made the determination right then and there that Bruce’s favorite word was wonderful.

  To prevent the wine from putting impolite words in her mouth, she shoved in a bite of scallop. “Mmm.”

  They both ate in silence for several beats. Angie savored the silence and the mouth-watering dish.

  After mere moments, Bruce began the conversation again.

  A mild headache came on. Could it be the wine?

  He spoke about his job—something about being predictive based on economic and political environments and their effect on the value of currency. Then, he filled her in on his and Kirstin’s divorce, and how he didn’t know what went wrong. He’d ask a question now and again, but never gave Angie much time to expand.

  Bruce could talk more than anyone she knew. Possibly more than anyone on the planet.

  Don’t be mean.

  When Jessica asked about dessert,
Angie didn’t hesitate. “No, thank you though.” Facing her date, she said, “I really should be going.”

  “Oh, but it’s only . . .” he glanced at his watch, “ten-fifteen.” His tone pitched higher, confirming his surprise. “We’ll take the check,” he spoke to Jessica. “Wow, Angie I had no idea. The time has simply flown by.”

  “Mmm,” she said with a closed-mouth smile. Time flies when you do all the talking.

  Bruce paid the bill, and walked her to her car in the parking lot at the side of the building. “Angie, I had a wonderful time. I’d really love to see you again.”

  Oh boy. “Bruce, let’s play it by ear. You and Kirstin have been divorced three years now. It’s all still very new to me. Let’s just give it some time.”

  Her answer seemed to appease him. He placed his hand on her arm and leaned in to kiss her.

  She quickly presented her cheek. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Bruce.” Oh no, it’s contagious!

  “Thank you, Angie. I’ll talk to you soon.” He stepped back, and as she unlocked her car, he opened the door for her, wearing a hopeful smile.

  She gave him a wave after he closed the door, and let out a long, bored sigh. It took all her energy not to slump in her seat as she was certain Bruce still had eyes on her.

  Jesus, Marion, Joseph.

  She drove as fast as legally allowed home. She wanted to kick off her heels, strip out of the clothes she’d been in all day, and climb into bed.

  She replayed the date over in my mind. Bored was a good descriptor; Bruce’s personality didn’t quite mesh with hers. But she’d compared Bruce to Mac, more than once. Could that be the real reason she wanted the interminable date to end? Bruce wasn’t Mac. She didn’t know, but she definitely needed more time before diving into this whole dating scene.