Mills & Boon Introduces: What Lies Beneath / Soldier, Father, Husband? / The Seven-Day Target

The theme of her collection had been a lot of black and white with pops of color. The dress would be stunning in black, but would it stand out enough? By the same token, she dismissed the bright pinks and teals other pieces had. That would be too much. Her gaze drifted over the pile of fabrics on the makeshift worktable that used to be a red sofa. It landed on a color she hadn’t used yet, but that could easily be worked in. It was sure to be a stunner. She picked up the matching pencil off the table and started shading the dress, a smile curving her lips as she worked and brought the sketch to life. It was perfect.

Emerald green, just like her eyes.

* * *

Will found himself in the Flower District the next day after work. He hadn’t been joking when he’d told Cynthia he was a little rusty where dating was concerned. He’d dated in high school and the first few years of college, but once he and Cynthia got together during their junior year, that was it. College girls hadn’t required much wooing, and Cynthia had never been one for silly things like flowers and chocolates in the past. She wanted ice. He wouldn’t have bought her an engagement ring guaranteed to get her mugged one day if she hadn’t made it perfectly clear what she expected.

But now he had no idea what she expected. Well, actually he did. She expected very little, so any gesture would be welcome. That almost made it harder. He didn’t want to slack off or not put in the effort she deserved because she was easy to please.

He picked up a bundle of roses. They were fresh and pink and reminded him of the color she blushed when he kissed her. Pink was her favorite color. Turning, he spied a few different types of lilies one stall down. Would she prefer something more exotic?

Will ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation and shook his head. He could only guess, so he opted to follow his instincts and go with his first choice. He walked to the counter, paid for the pink roses and hopped back in the cab that was waiting for him. Hopefully she would like them.

He rang the doorbell of their apartment when he got home instead of going inside. Her footsteps thumped across the floor as though she were running to the door.

“Did you forget your k—” she started as she flung it open, then she stopped when her gaze fell on the flowers in his hands. “Oh,” she said, a smile lighting her face.

“I’m taking you on a dinner date this evening.” He held out the flowers. “These are for you.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Let me put these in some water and I’ll get ready.”

Will nodded and followed her inside the apartment, shutting the door behind him. He watched as she searched the cabinets until she found a vase, unwrapped the flowers and arranged them in water before placing them on the kitchen table. “They’re beautiful, Will, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. I got us reservations for dinner at six-thirty. You’d better get a move on if we’re going to make it on time.”

Cynthia glanced at the clock and gasped, turning on her bare heels to disappear into the back of the apartment. Will waited patiently on the couch, wondering if she could manage to get ready that quickly.

Ten minutes later, he got his answer. She emerged from the back in a fitted black skirt and a ruffled white top with black details and stitching. She’d pulled her dark brown hair up into a bun and put on some lipstick that made her lips look pouty and plump like cherries. It was perfect.

“You look stunning,” he said.

“Thank you. I tried to hurry.”

“You did very well. We might even get there early.”

They gathered their coats and caught a cab to the restaurant. It was an expensive Italian place, but not one of the society haunts where they might run into someone they knew. Not that she knew anyone. This being their first date, he wanted it to be private and without people gossiping about where they were and why her ring was suspiciously absent.

They were seated at a curved, burgundy leather booth for two, the table lit with the soft glow of candlelight. The sommelier brought him the wine list, and he was two seconds from ordering for her when he stopped. He didn’t know what she liked anymore. “Do you want a diet soda, or would you like to try some wine tonight?” he asked.

She thought about it for a moment. “I’d like to try wine, but I want something light and sweet.”

He nodded, taking the sommelier’s suggestion for a brand of Riesling and a cabernet sauvignon for himself. Once they gave the waiter their order, they were finally left alone with a crusty loaf of bread and some herb-infused olive oil.

“Normally on a first date, I think I would ask a woman about herself, what she likes to do, where she grew up. Unfortunately, I don’t think you know the answers.”

Cynthia laughed and took a sip of her wine. “Mmm…this is lovely, thank you for choosing it. It might be hard, but maybe I can learn something about you and me while we’re at it. Give it a try.”

“Okay,” he said, tearing a chunk of bread from the loaf and dipping it. “We’ll go more esoteric, then. If you were trapped on a desert island, what three things would you take with you?”

“Well, if we’re talking deserted with absolutely nothing, I say food, water and a toothbrush. If that kind of stuff is covered, then I say some books, a sketch pad with pencils and an mp3 player with a solar battery pack. How about you?”

“Given base needs are met, I would take.” he shook his head. “I almost can’t even say. I wouldn’t know what to do with a bunch of leisure time.”

“What do you like to do for fun?”

“Fun? I just work. That’s what I do. Occasionally Alex makes me play racquetball or you drag me to a party or a play. That’s about it.”

“Doesn’t the paper own box seats at Yankee Stadium or something?”

“Courtside for the Knicks, actually, but I usually give the tickets out to clients and friends.”

“Why? Don’t you like basketball?”

“Yes. I just never make the time to go. You never wanted to go with me, and Alex typically had a date or was traveling on business when I asked.”

“When the season starts up again, I think I’d like to go. It sounds fun.”

Will smiled as he tried to picture Cynthia at a Knicks game with a beer in one hand, nachos in the other, screaming at the players. “We can certainly do that. Anything else you’d like to try, assuming we go on a second date?” he said with a wink.

“Hmm…” She thought aloud. “Bowling, maybe. Or doing some of the touristy things around town. I don’t remember any of that stuff, so it’s like I’m a visitor.”

“Do you mean like seeing the Statue of Liberty and Times Square?”

“Yeah. Maybe get one of those ‘I

NY’ T-shirts.”

Will had to laugh. The woman across the table from him surprised him every day. She really was an entirely different person. A sweet, caring woman with a zest for life and the simplest pleasures, like silly tourist fare. Maybe she really had changed for good. Enough that he could trust her with some of the feelings swirling in his gut but wasn’t ready to say aloud.

“You know I work crazy hours, but I’ll happily squeeze in some sightseeing with you if that makes you happy.”

“It would. But tell me, why do you work so much?”

Will took a bite of bread to consider his answer. “When I took over for my father, Junior, after his retirement, it took a lot of hours to really get a feel for running the paper. Then things at home got strained and it was easier to bury myself in work. Then it just became a way of life.”

“Isn’t there someone else that can handle a lot of that stuff for you?”

He had a staff of hundreds of capable people, so he sincerely hoped so. “Probably, if I let them. But I like being involved. I don’t want to be one of those disconnected CEOs in the ivory tower.”

“There’s got to be a happy medium. A line you can draw in the sand that says when you’re working and when you’re not. I mean, what would you say if I told you it was rude to constantly check your phone during our date?”

Will paused, his hand literally reaching out to compulsively check his phone when she spoke the words. His gaze narrowed at her and then he conceded with a nod. “I’d say you were probably right and offer to put it on silent.” He held it up and flipped a switch, putting an end to the constant symphony of beeps, chirps and ringtone melodies. He wasn’t comfortable turning it completely off in case there was a serious emergency.

“Well, that’s a step in the right direction, I suppose. When was the last time you went on a vacation?”

“I took leave the Monday after your accident.”

Cynthia frowned. “That’s not a vacation. I’m talking sand between your toes and a frosty drink in your hand.”