Love/Forty Read online

  She excused herself and he swiveled in his chair to watch her. Taking a deep silent breath of her scent as she moved away, he sat there trying to regain his equilibrium. He could feel his heart beating in his ears. This was crazy. And while he tried to convince himself otherwise, he knew better. He had fallen in love, big time.

  He rubbed his forehead, trying to collect his thoughts. Stunned, he reminded himself that he had to be careful. The last thing he needed was for Mercedes to discover how deep his feelings for her had become in such a short time. He didn’t want to scare her away before she learned to fully trust his friendship, let alone his passion.

  “Dante,” Max said, leaning toward him, “you all right?”

  Dante looked up and smiled. “Yes, I’m fine. I know you’re going to think this is strange, but I think I had too much sun this afternoon.”

  “That’s possible. Well, we ordered some appetizers. Make sure you eat some while we wait for dinner. We had lunch quite a few hours ago.”

  “That’s probably what happened. I didn’t have time to eat this afternoon and now it’s almost nine o’clock,” he added, pleased to have a legitimate, although wrong, excuse.

  The entire evening became fun-filled with a lot of joking and most of all enjoying the chef prepare their meals and catching them unaware every time he tossed food in the air for them to catch in their mouths. They missed some and several shrimp flew by and landed on the floor.

  Not long after they had finished eating, he felt himself stifling a yawn. As much as he would like to have stayed, he turned to Mercedes and said, “I think I’m going to leave now because that alarm will be ringing before dawn.”

  “Lucky, you. I have a feeling Max will be here ’til midnight.”

  “May I give you a ride to your hotel?”

  “That’s sweet of you to offer, but your hotel is closer. I’d hate to put you out of your way.”

  “Not a problem. My pleasure. I won’t mind at all, if you’d like to leave with me.”

  He could hardly breathe as she stared at her brother, her innate caution struggling with her desire to leave. To Dante’s everlasting relief she finally threw caution to the wind and told Max they were leaving. Her brother’s brows rose for a mere second, and Dante didn’t miss the surprise look on his face.

  Max nodded, handed her the key to the room, then stood and shook hands with Dante, who slipped a couple hundred-dollar bills in his hand.

  “That’s not necessary, Dante.”

  “Thanks, but take it please.”

  Max nodded and he and Mercedes spent another ten minutes going around the table saying goodbye to everyone and most of the group agreed to meet for dinner one night in Paris and maybe somewhere in between.

  When Dante started the car, he felt slightly tense about driving alone with Mercedes because he needed to keep his emotions under control and didn’t want to frighten her by making a wrong comment or move.

  Fortunately, Mercedes broke the awkward silence. “You know, by leaving early, you broke all the girls’ hearts in the restaurant who were eyeing you. You’ve probably broken a lot of hearts, without even knowing, but have you ever had your heart broken, Dante?”

  Not yet, he thought, but instead answered, “Not really. As a young boy my parents moved every couple of years when my dad was an attaché and assigned to various embassies around the world. By the time I reached dating age, there wasn’t enough time for girlfriends.”

  “Living in other countries must have been exciting.”

  “I suppose, looking back, the lifestyle was interesting, but we had no roots, no BFF’s, best friends forever, as the kids today would say.”

  He shrugged, as he changed lanes, and continued, “Once I decided that I wanted to be a professional tennis player, I devoted most of my time to my career. And, although I still traveled a lot, by then my parents’ lives became more centered when my dad was appointed the ambassador to France. We traveled back and forth between France and Italy mostly, since I considered Italy my permanent home. Once I was old enough to stay alone, I didn’t have to move with them.”

  “You never had a serious love relationship?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No. I usually got thrown together with groupies at parties when I was younger, and when I became a minor celebrity, although I didn’t consider myself one, I met starlets and famous celebs at various film festivals and tournament functions and was often asked to be an escort. Many of the so-called dates I had were arranged. The media posted those photographs in tabloids all over the world, and heaven forbid if you were seen with the same date more than once. After a while you couldn’t be sure if someone was seriously interested in you the person, or only the wealthy tennis player celeb.”

  Taking a quick look at her, he added, “That doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy dating, but I wasn’t involved in a serious fling, despite the tabloid stories.”

  He pulled into the circular driveway of her hotel and parked the car in a guest space to continue their conversation.

  “How about you, Mercedes?”

  With wrinkled forehead, she asked, “Have I ever had my heart broken?”

  He nodded.

  She glanced at the passing street traffic and took her time to give him an answer until he wondered if she ever would.

  “Did Max mention that we were adopted?”

  Dante gauged his reply, moved by her decision to open up to him in a personal way he hadn’t expected. He’d thought the conversation was about old girlfriends and boyfriends. Max was right. This ran deeper.

  “Yes, he told me you were young when you lost your parents, and you spent some time in foster homes. I can’t imagine what your life must have been like when your parents first died, being taken out of your home, and sent to live with strangers.”

  He heard the hurt in her when she turned and spoke. “We were frightened, kept to ourselves, and didn’t speak to anyone for a while. We cried a lot when we were in bed. What three year old can understand what, ‘your parents died and went to Heaven,’ means?

  “I had my heart broken a lot during what I refer to as the foster care period of my life, kind of like Picasso’s blue life. Every time I thought Max and I had landed in a home where we were wanted and loved, we were uprooted and sent to live with another set of strangers. I’d go to bed nights sobbing and wondering what I did wrong. Getting acquainted and trying to fit in and be accepted became a full time job, and after a while, I’d give up trying. Yet, when we were moved to another home, I’d try again.”

  Dante reached over and took her hand, “I’m sorry, Mercedes.”

  He intertwined their fingers and held hers tight. “I’d have done anything to spare you such pain, and feel guilty I led such a privileged life.”

  “Thank you.” She squeezed his hand, turned her head away, and then let go. “Don’t feel bad. Like my broken wrist, I now count the experience a positive one. Max and I are certainly self-reliant, good training for the entrepreneurs we’ve turned out to be, and we ended up with great parents.”

  “I agree. You and Max should be very proud of your accomplishments.” He smiled and nodded in agreement.

  She surprised him by asking, “What do you want out of life, Dante, that you don’t already have?”

  He was tempted to say, you, but instead answered, “I used to think I had what I wanted and that fame and fortune was more than enough…”

  “And now?” she prompted.

  “Now I know that comes at a price.”

  “A price?”

  “No roots. No serious love interests, not a lot of best friends. My parents are very close. They do everything together. I don’t have that. They aren’t like your typical parents—my mother doesn’t do housework. My parents are rich and they were involved in the diplomatic corps and were constantly required to attend a variety of social functions, including many at the White House. Her job in life was to see that I was well taken care of, loved to be sure, but my father and his career we
re at the top of her list.”

  “What about now that your father is retired?”

  “Now he devotes his time helping her with her career. He handles the attorneys, contracts, travel plans, etcetera. They love the business and traveling, and they entertain a lot, but also they’re at home more than they ever were. And, whenever possible, they come to see me play tennis. When I was little, we had live-in servants, a nanny, and a chauffeur who drove me to school and to soccer or wherever I wanted to go. I only had to ask.”

  “Do you want roots?”

  He nodded. “Yes. I want to share my life with a woman who wants to be with me as much as I want to be with her. Being an only child can be lonely at times, I want to have several children and I want to be the one to take them to school and to their soccer or tennis games, not some hired help. I want someone who will share my interest in my foundation.”

  “What is that about? I know many of the top athletes have started foundations to raise money for others less fortunate. I hadn’t heard that you had started your own.”

  “My foundation is for children who were abused and removed from their homes and are living with other family members, with foster families or even in halfway houses. More like a place to go after school, we provide counseling for them and the families providing them with a home. We give them help with school work, extra-curricular activities, music lessons, dance, and sports.”

  “That sounds like a tremendous endeavor. And a great feature for the magazine interview. How do you start a program like this and where do you begin?”

  “The foundation is chartered. My parents are involved, also, mostly with financial help and fundraising. We’ve opened three centers in the last two years. One in Miami, one in D.C., and one in a mining town in West Virginia. We purchased schools that were abandoned, hired full-time staff and have a lot of volunteers. Kids can come in the evening with their foster families or relatives who are caring for them. They can get help with their homework, and we even have help for their families. We provide light suppers in case they hadn’t eaten.”

  “What other kind of help do you provide?”

  “Counseling, for one. We also have a game room where the families can play board games with one another and form friendships. We have a computer room and someone to teach them how to use a computer, we have a lot of sports, of course”—he chuckled—“and sometimes local professional team members and even high school coaches come to teach the kids how to play football, soccer, baseball, even tennis.

  “My favorite activities are the night classes for the teens and adults. We have cooking, sewing, typing, carpentry, and plumbing. All taught by local businessmen and women, providing them with job skills. We also keep up with jobs that are available. We collect clothing and teach the adults how to prepare for interviews. We’ve even started a library.”

  “That sounds like you’ve made use of the entire district helping families who need help. What a wonderful idea. I’m surprised I haven’t heard about this, what do you call your foundation?”

  “My mother chose the name, Tomorrow’s Future…”

  “I wish you a lot of success. You didn’t use your name though?”

  “No. This isn’t about me. There are many at-risk youths, especially the ones that have been physically and emotionally abused. We need to make sure these three places we’ve opened will be successful. We’ve hired a professional staff for each center, psychologists, teachers, retired sports figures, and use young teenagers and retirees to volunteer. I’ll take you to visit the one in Miami when you’re home, if you’d like to see how the facility is run.”

  “I’d like that very much, the organization sounds impressive.”

  “How about you, Mercedes? What do you want out of life?”

  “I’m looking for permanence,” she answered without hesitation. “No one-night stands. Life is too precious to squander, a lesson I learned when my parents were killed at such a young age. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, and I want to take my time and consider my decisions before I make any changes. Right now, I’m happy. I love my family and my job, and I have a home of my own.

  “I can afford to wait for someone who doesn’t expect me to give up my career, and who wants the same things I do. When I was in high school, I had crushes on some of the boys there, but as you said, a serious tennis career didn’t leave time for much dating.” She shrugged. “Besides, I was too tall, better at sports than most of the boys, and definitely had better grades.”

  Dante chuckled. “Well, besides sports and tennis, we seem to have something else in common.”

  “Make sure you get Max to invite you to dinner at my parents’ home. You should meet them. They really are wonderful.”

  “I’d like that. I’ll probably be in Florida between Wimbledon and the U.S. Open. I’ll go to Italy after the French and spend time with my folks,” Dante said, turning off the engine. “I enjoyed spending time with you and Max and look forward to getting together in New York soon. I’m sure Max will let me know if you’re going to be visiting him in Europe and maybe we can get together. I’d like to take you both to my parents’ home, too.”

  “Sounds tempting.”

  Dante didn’t want to linger or press his luck attempting to get her to commit to a visit. He got out of the car rushed around to open her door, satisfied with their developing friendship. Maybe she was, too, he thought when he offered her his hand and she gave him a firm grip getting out of the car and didn’t pull away as he walked her into the hotel. He was certain she felt a flutter when their hands touched. He did.

  “We’re on the first floor,” she said, pointing down the hallway from the lobby. “Max needed a conference table for his computer with all his clients’ schedules and files he brought with him, and the hotel gave us a business suite.”

  Dante walked Mercedes to her room and said, “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to have Max for my agent. Having to arrange all the plane reservations alone was enough to make me crazy.”

  “His staff is very efficient; you shouldn’t have to worry.”

  “That’s what I had heard.”

  Mercedes unlocked the door to her suite, turned slightly and smiled over her shoulder, and Dante couldn’t resist. He stood at her side, leaned down, and gave her a light kiss. Suddenly he realized that the touch of her soft lips against his and her sweet taste weren’t the only thing setting off the sensation of fireworks.

  They were illuminated in full glare of strobe lights and an annoying click-click of cameras. Without hesitation, he immediately moved a startled Mercedes into her suite with a light push, closed the door and faced the paparazzi while they bombarded him with questions in-sync. He heard the chain slide on the other side of the door, then the quiet sound of the deadbolt.

  “Are you and Mercedes McFadden an item? Is she the sister of Max McFadden? Are she and M. McFadden, the sports writer, one and the same?”

  He gave the small group a slanted look, and with an unmistakable edge answered, “She is my new agent’s sister, and I gave her a ride home from dinner. We are simply new acquaintances. However, you can be the first to release the news that I have signed a contract with the Max McFadden Sports Agency.”

  “What about the kiss?” someone shouted.

  “That was a kiss goodbye. I’m leaving in the morning for Florida. Listen, when I give a woman a romantic kiss, you and the woman I’m kissing will both know the difference.”

  They all laughed and followed him as he headed out to his car drawing them away from the hotel. As soon as he drove off, he felt the muscles tighten in his stomach. He hoped the photos that were taken weren’t printed, but nevertheless, the damage that event may have done put any chances he thought he might have had with Mercedes now in jeopardy. Concerned that the progress he thought he had achieved tonight had been wiped off the slate, he punched the steering wheel.

  ****

  Mercedes leaned back against the door to her room after turning the deadlock
. “Damn.” She closed her eyes. Her mind seemed blank and numb to even think about what had happened, except she knew she had only herself to blame for this debacle.

  With the taste of Dante’s tender kiss lingering on her lips, she strained to listen to the explanation he gave to the media. She rolled her eyes, aware of how much she desired more of his kisses, but she considered this one the kiss of death to a future relationship with Mr. Edwards.

  What a fool she had been. She knew better, and yet she fell for the excitement and glamor his status easily tempted someone as green and naïve as she. She feared something like this could happen and she had been determined to avoid falling into a trap. She shouldn’t have let her guard down. She didn’t need another rejection in her life.

  Nor did she want a fishbowl romance or a here today, gone tomorrow lover no matter how great he kissed. Trouble was—Dante was now Max’s new client, and she liked him. More than she cared to admit. Without offending him, she at least wanted his friendship and the promised interview, sans media coverage.

  Mercedes barely took a breath until she was certain the reporters had cleared the hallway. She picked up the phone and called the front desk to ask if the photographers were still in the building. The concierge apologized, saying he didn’t realize why they were there when they came in the hotel earlier in the evening because they headed directly to the sports bar, which is why he didn’t see them following her and her friend to her room. That part of the hotel was not visible from the front desk. He assured her they had left the property and he would make certain she wasn’t bothered again.

  She thanked him, slouched down on the couch, and turned on the television, searching for a movie to watch while she waited for Max to return, but found nothing that interested her. When her cellphone rang, she jumped. She picked up the receiver and hesitated to speak, not sure who might be on the other end. “Hello,” she whispered.

  “Mercedes? Are you all right?”

  She let out a sigh. “Dante?”