Love/Forty Page 4

  Mercedes blushed in spite of the goose bumps that sent a slight quiver up and down her arms. Charming and dangerous—she needed to remember to add that to his portfolio. “Thank you, that’s very sweet.”

  “Follow me,” the waiter said, leading them into the main dining room.

  The windows in the restaurant had no screens, but were wide open, which was one of the great things she loved about Arizona; one could dine alfresco, with almost no flying pests to harass you—something she discovered while attending a tennis camp one year in Scottsdale.

  The atmosphere in the room was pleasant, full of light chatter with bright lighting, but they couldn’t hear what people said at the other tables, nor were they bothered by the soft music and clinking of glasses because the acoustics was perfect. All signs of a popular establishment. My favorite kind of restaurant.

  Once they were seated she said, “This is a great choice, Max, even if the food isn’t.”

  “Well, according to the man who recommended this place, I believe we’re in for a four-star dinner, maybe five.”

  The men ordered a bottle of wine, and she said, “I’ll have a glass of wine with dinner,” and ordered a diet cola with lime. The conversation turned to travel, gourmet foods, politics, and even religion, as they snacked on a variety of fresh baked breads served with a cheese spread, before finally ordering their main courses.

  All the while, Mercedes became conscious of the way Dante’s gaze found her whether she or Max spoke. And when he wasn’t eyeing her, she stole glances of him. His strong hands and long fingers, with their square cut manicured nails. His smooth, tan chest, glimpsed when his casually unbuttoned shirt gaped open slightly, made her wonder what gliding her fingertips across his skin would feel like, outlining his collarbone, and pecs, following the taut midline abs down to his waist and beyond. She made a sound in the back of her throat and lassoed her wandering imagination while mentally chiding herself.

  If the tabloids could be believed, he was an experienced man. She didn’t want to be merely a conquest for him, or anyone else for that matter, or even thought of as a loose woman. She wouldn’t dishonor the memory of her parents, or the dignity of her adopted parents, for any man. She wanted to be someone they would be proud to call their daughter, and not an embarrassment. But this man was pure temptation, a man who could threaten to break down her invisible barriers.

  Ordering became a fun event since each person could choose their entrée, but the side dishes were served family style. They agreed immediately on the lobster mashed potatoes and a salad, and each decided on a filet.

  During dinner, she merely listened while Max took over the conversation and quickly outlined his contractual agreement. He told Dante he’d be pleased to represent him.

  The agreement brought a smile to her lips and she felt delighted for Max that Dante accepted the commission and was more than a little impressed as Max detailed his ideas on how to advance Dante’s career, the top-notched sponsors he had connections with, and what he could do once he became number one in the world. “The sky’s the limit, even now, and your potential can only grow.”

  Mercedes glanced around the room and observed people whispering while glancing at their table. She couldn’t blame them, as she too watched the continental way he ate, swirled his wine, and flashed that heart-melting smile. Dante’s European mannerisms, his handsome features, and couture manner of dress were hard to resist. She was certain that people would stare at him even if they didn’t know he was a famous tennis player. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

  She was grateful that although some had recognized Dante they didn’t come over to the table seeking autographs. The stares sent toward them made her feel self-conscious and more insecure than usual, if that were possible. She straightened her spine, made sure her napkin remained neatly on her lap, and used protocol etiquette about how she cut her steak and chewed her food.

  Max and Dante sealed their deal with a handshake, and Max promised to have the contract ready to sign and send to his attorney for final approval before he had to leave Arizona. Business over, she once again entered the conversation as the three of them waited for dessert, and she promised her brother she’d do her best to copy the lobster mashed potatoes recipe for Thanksgiving dinner.

  “Crème Brule with raspberries and three straws,” Max teased, when he ordered the dessert, and a round of cappuccino. The three of them took their time discussing their favorite countries and cities to visit, something professional tennis afforded a player that might not otherwise have had that opportunity when they were young amateurs.

  On their way out of the restaurant, Mercedes became acutely aware of Dante’s guiding hand riding at the small of her back, his touch spreading warmth that seemed to seep into her very core. At the door she stopped abruptly exclaiming to the incoming woman, “Linda, how nice to see you. I planned to call you tomorrow.”

  She turned to introduce Linda Style, the Editor-in-Chief of VIEW Highlife Magazine, to Max and Dante, and felt Dante’s hand drop from her waist as he took Linda’s proffered hand. For a fleeting moment, she regretted the loss of his touch, then told herself that was foolish. He was a public figure. A man, any woman, friend or lover, had to share with the masses. And she certainly didn’t know him well enough, one way or the other, to be possessive of him even for this short while, and not likely to hold his attention for long even if she did.

  “I only arrived this morning, unexpectedly.” She chatted with Linda while they waited for the valet to bring the car.

  “What are you doing in Arizona?”

  “A scouting assignment for a potential tennis client for my brother—a last-minute request. I’ll call you tomorrow and make plans to get together before I leave town.”

  She said good-bye and hugged Linda, who whispered in her ear, “I want an Edwards’ interview for my magazine, with photographs of his homes in Italy and Florida.”

  Mercedes chuckled. “All right. I promise to give you the article. However, I’m not interviewing him until after the U.S. Open.”

  “I’ll put a hold on the end of the year issue. He’s worth the wait, a great stocking stuffer.”

  Chapter Three

  The following morning, Dante hurried into the hotel café where he had made arrangements to meet Max and immediately felt disappointed. “Where’s Mercedes?” he asked, reaching out to shake hands.

  “She said to go ahead and have breakfast without her. She had to make a few phone calls and wait for a FAX from someone in Switzerland. She already spent time with the athlete and has written a draft, but wanted a detailed bio in case there was something more personal she might want to include in the article. She’ll be here soon, though. Why?”

  “She’s prettier,” Dante teased as he sat down and stretched out his long legs. Signaling to the waiter to bring him coffee, he picked up the menu, gave the breakfast items a perfunctory glance, made up his mind on a number of things and laid the menu down again. “I would like to date your sister. What do you think my chances are that she’d say, yes?”

  Max glanced up from the menu he’d been studying, pursed his lips and said, “I can’t imagine you’ve ever been turned down, but with my sister, your chances are probably a hundred percent, I’m sorry to say.”

  “Are you joking?”

  “No, and that’s unfortunate.”

  Dante stared at Max. “Is she involved with someone?”

  “No.” Max hesitated while the waiter poured Dante’s coffee.

  “Then?”

  “Maybe we should order before I try to explain.”

  Dante nodded.

  Once they’d indicated their selections, Max said, “Before I say anything, you have to give me your word you won’t tell Mercedes we had this conversation. She’s very sensitive, and if ever you might have a chance with her, that would die the minute she found out we discussed her personal life in private.”

  “I give you my word. Go ahead.”

  �
�There are many reasons why I don’t believe she’d date you. Some of them are deep, personal feelings she may eventually explain to you herself, if you’re persistent in courting her and drag them out of her. But you have a hard sell.”

  “I’m confused, Max. Explain why she won’t be interested in a relationship. I think Mercedes and I have a lot in common.”

  Max paused for a second before answering. “Our parents were killed by a drunk driver when we were three years old. You might want to remember that because although she will have a drink to be polite now and then on special occasions like last evening, she usually does not drink alcohol and most especially if she’s driving,” he explained, stirring his coffee. “Even though we vaguely remember our parents, one look at the newspaper articles covering their accident was all she needed to make that decision.

  “You also need to know that she is not interested in a long-distance relationship, which is a mark against you since you travel most of the time and she also travels, although not as often as you.”

  “Ah,” Dante interrupted, “but what I had in mind was to have her join me whenever possible. She has the consummate career. She can bring her laptop and work anywhere in the world. I will pay for her airfare and hotel rooms, and all other expenses.”

  Max slid his water glass from side to side, hand-to-hand, across the table, contemplating how to word his response. “I can tell you now, Dante, if you or any other man made such a suggestion, she’d be insulted and wouldn’t even want you for a friend.”

  Dante leaned back and waited while their meal was served. Sitting straight up, he whispered, “Why not?”

  “She’d be permanently offended that you didn’t think enough of her or her reputation to suggest such an arrangement. That may be something Europeans don’t have a problem with, but Mercedes is a private person, guarded in her relationships, and not someone you could put on display.”

  “I get the impression all this has to do with your parents’ deaths in some way, and I am very sorry for your loss, but I don’t understand.”

  “Well, unfortunately, we had no relatives, no aunts or uncles or even cousins once removed,” he joked. “Our parents were young and foolishly hadn’t even thought to appoint a guardian in case of such an emergency. They hadn’t planned on being killed. Mercedes and I became wards of the State of Florida and were thrown into the foster home circuit. The only good thing about that was we were kept together because we were twins. If we had been torn apart, I don’t know how she would have survived. Hell, I’m not even sure how I would have without her either, although I’ve read about twins and even triplets who had been separated and didn’t get reunited for years, and I suppose many died without ever knowing they had a sibling, let alone a twin or triplet.”

  “How terrible for both of you. Tell me, were either of you abused?” he asked, his concerned expression evident.

  “No, not in the sense you might think,” Max answered, shaking his head. “Not sexually. I was a protective big brother, and although we got spanked once in a while, we soon learned to be obedient. We were too young at the time, and for years, we simply didn’t know or understand what had happened to our parents. Although at that age we weren’t mature enough to mention those emotions—we both probably believed deep down that they had abandoned us. We were taken from the babysitter the night they were killed and shuttled off to the first of many strange places.”

  “Tell me, then, what happened to Mercedes?”

  “She was desperate for love and attention, more than I. She gave each family we lived with her all, heart and soul, seeking to fill the emotional void our parents’ loss had left. But, some families, while they weren’t cruel, usually had a house full of children and we realized once we were older, they kept their distance because they were vulnerable, too. They had no idea how long we might be with them and hesitated to shower any extraordinary love or attention, than necessary. Even if they weren’t conscious they did that.”

  Max poured extra cream into his coffee and took a sip before continuing. “None of the children ever knew when they might be sent elsewhere. A few families wanted to adopt us, but were rejected for one reason or another. We were eventually adopted and are more than grateful for the wonderful parents we have.

  “Not until we were older, after we had some family therapy with our adoptive parents, did we understand what had happened. But I remember how Mercedes was as a little girl. She’d get up earlier than the entire household, being extra careful not to make any noise, make her bed, straighten her room, shower, and dress. Then while I took my shower, she’d take care of my room. Anything to please the family we lived with, hoping someone would want to keep us and time after time, she’d suffer rejection and disappointment when we were taken away from one home and sent to a new place to start all over again.”

  Max paused long enough to eat his breakfast and drink his coffee. Then he leaned forward and said, “From the puzzled look on your face, I know you haven’t been able to completely comprehend what I’m trying to tell you, Dante, regarding Mercedes not wanting to date you. However, from what I’ve read about you and from the interviews I’ve seen on television, along with the overall opinion of the media and the officials of the tennis organizations, I personally have a feeling you’re the perfect person for her. I think you’re looking for the same kind of love and stability she believes a family life can bring. She isn’t self-confident enough to think you’d be interested in her and I’m not sure you’re currently looking for a permanent relationship.”

  “Is she? Is that what she wants?”

  Max raised one shoulder. “You’d have to ask her. Unlike most of the women I know, she is not anxiously seeking to marry every man she dates. But I can tell you what she doesn’t want.”

  Relaxing his furrowed brow, he said, “Go on…”

  “She will not ever,” Max emphasized, “sit in a VIP box at any tennis tournament, be seen with you in public while on tour, unless perhaps now that I’m your agent, I’m with you, or even go out to dinner with you alone, nor travel all over the world to be with you.”

  Sitting up straighter, Dante asked, “Why not?”

  Max gave a muffled moan. “Don’t be offended. There’s no way in hell she’s going to have cameramen at tournaments focus on her while Austin or McEnroe make speculative comments, ‘there’s Mercedes McFadden, Dante Edwards’ girlfriend, she used to play tennis until an injury cut her career short; her brother is Max McFadden, Dante’s agent.’ Or worse, have paparazzi paste her picture all over the magazines and hot flash them on TMZ the next evening.

  “I know for certain she won’t have her reputation smeared for being your bedmate, even if she stayed at a different hotel than you and you weren’t sleeping together. I know this because she has talked about celebrity relationships that have gone bad. Every time, the break-up, along with all the private details, appear as the cover story on every newsstand magazine. Unfortunately, for her, since she writes about celebrity athletes, she’s expected to read many magazines. As for the deep-seated reasons, that’s for her to decide whether or not she wants to share her feelings. This doesn’t mean that she might not go out with you alone, like in New York or in Fort Lauderdale—somewhere that the media isn’t expecting you during the off-season.”

  “I appreciate what you’ve told me, Max, and I noticed when you talked about what the media would print, most of what they might write would be about your career and mine. I will respect her wishes. See what develops. I plan on calling her when I’m in New York.”

  Max nodded. “You’re that determined?”

  “Yes. Because the moment I saw her yesterday”—he waved a hand in the air—“I felt something that excited me, something I’ve been looking for in a partner—without realizing what I wanted.”

  “You can have any woman in the world you want, Dante.”

  “Maybe, but your sister is unlike most women. And perhaps she may be what I’m looking for in a relationship. I won’t be
playing tennis forever and would like to settle down, get married, and have children one day,” he said, refilling his coffee cup. “In the meantime, we could date and I might be able to assure her that my intentions are sincere.

  “What I liked about Mercedes is that she didn’t fawn all over me. Hang onto my every word. Mercedes didn’t try to impress me; she seemed comfortable with herself. She didn’t ask me a hundred stupid questions, and didn’t constantly act like we were an item. I also discovered I am attracted to her natural beauty. I find her intelligent and refreshingly out of the ordinary, unlike other women I’ve dated. Beautiful on the outside along with inner-beauty, both graceful and elegant, best describes Mercedes.”

  “I agree, but try convincing her.”

  “I plan to do exactly that−let’s sign the contract later today and finish our business. I’ll be leaving tomorrow, and I’d like to spend the rest of the day with you and your sister enjoying ourselves and building our friendship since we will be working together.”

  Max shook his head back and forth. “A man on a mission. I wish you luck…”

  Mercedes entered the restaurant and interrupted their conversation, with a smile as bright as the Arizona sunshine. Dante slipped on his sunglasses to observe her without being detected.

  She was casually dressed in a magnolia pink-tiered skirt and a white sequined T-shirt with three-quarter length sleeves, large silver hoop earrings, and bangle bracelets up to her elbow to match, along with silver beaded sandals. She looked like a cover girl. Her hair was brushed back away from her face and hung down past her shoulders.

  To him, she looked even more beautiful than yesterday. Something about her brought a smile to his lips and he immediately felt an irresistible longing toward her. Love at first sight, he thought, without feeling frightened by the phrase.

  Raising her large straw bag to her shoulder, she asked, “Are you gentlemen ready?”

  Max cocked his head to one side, “Depends on what you have in mind.”

  “While you two were busy having breakfast, I was on the phone with the concierge and he told me there’s an Art Walk through Old Town Scottsdale and I thought you might not mind lending your opinions to help me select a couple of paintings for my new home—if I happen to find something that suits me. I have an inkling the prices might be more affordable here than in the galleries in New York City.”