Rochelle Alers - Always an Eaton - Sweet Dreams

Chandra turned to stare over her shoulder out the back window to find Preston standing on the sidewalk. His image grew smaller and smaller then disappeared from view when the driver turned the corner.

A knowing smile softened her mouth when she shifted again. I like him. “I like him,” she repeated under her breath, as if saying it aloud would make it more real.

Chapter 7

Chandra maneuvered her car to the curb of the high-rise, tapping lightly on the horn to garner Preston’s attention. He was dressed in a lightweight, navy blue suit, white shirt and black slip-ons. Her eyebrows lifted slightly when she spied the two small colorful shopping bags he held in his left hand.

He rounded the car to the driver’s side and dipped his head to peer through the open window. “I’ll drive. I do know how to get to Paoli,” Preston added when Chandra gave him a quizzical look. Reaching in, he unlocked the door, opened it and helped her out. Three inches of heels put the top of her head at eye level. His penetrating gaze took in everything about her in a single glance: lightly made-up face, luxurious dark brown hair secured in a ponytail, black stretch tank top, matching stretch cropped pants and high-heeled mules. He brushed a kiss over her cheek. “You look very cute.”

Heat feathered across her face with his unexpected compliment. She’d changed her outfits twice. When she’d gotten up earlier that morning, the mercury was already sixty-eight, and meteorologists were predicting temperatures to peak in the mid-eighties. Chandra much preferred the Indian summer weather to the near-freezing temperatures because she knew it would take her a while to adjust to the climate change.

Her eyes met Preston’s as the skin around his penetrating gaze lingered briefly on her face before slipping lower to her breasts. “Thank you.”

Preston’s lips parted in a smile as he reached over with his free hand and tugged gently on her ponytail. “You’re quite welcome.” He led her around the Volvo, seated her and then retraced his steps once she’d fastened her seat belt.

He took off his suit jacket, placing it and the shopping bags on the rear seat. Sitting behind the wheel, he adjusted the seat to accommodate his longer legs, noting that Chandra had already programmed her trip into the GPS.

“What’s in the shopping bags?” Chandra asked when Preston maneuvered into the flow of traffic.

“It’s just a little something for your nieces.”

She frowned. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”

Preston’s frown matched hers. “I couldn’t show up empty-handed.”

“Yes, you could, Preston. You’re my guest.”

“That may be true, but I feel better bringing something. After all, it’s not every day someone turns thirteen. Your nieces are no longer tweens, but bona fide teenagers. And I’m willing to bet they’ll be quick to remind everyone of that fact.”

Chandra’s frown disappeared. “You’re right. When I spoke to my sister earlier this morning, she told me that was the first thing they said.”

“Do you remember being thirteen?” Preston asked.

She shook her head. “No. Every year was a blur until I turned eighteen.”

“What happened that year?”

“I left home for college.”

“Where did you go?”

“Columbia University.”

“Was Columbia your first choice?”

Chandra stared through the windshield. “No. I was seriously considering going to the University of Pennsylvania, then decided an out-of-state school was a better choice if I wanted to stretch my wings.”

Preston gave Chandra a sidelong glance before returning his gaze to the road. “Mom and Dad didn’t want their baby to leave the nest? Yes or no?” he asked when she glared at him.

“No,” she said after a prolonged pause. “I decided to go away because my brother and sisters went to in-state colleges. I wanted to be the one to break the tradition.”

“Where did—” The chiming of the cell phone attached to his belt preempted what he intended to say. Preston removed the phone, taking a furtive look at the display. “Excuse me, Chandra, but I need to take this call.”

She nodded, smiling. “It’s okay.”

He pressed a button, activating the speaker feature. “Hey, Ray. Thanks for getting back to me.”

“What’s up, P.J.?” asked a raspy voice.

“How’s your schedule?” Preston asked.

A sensual chuckle filled the car. “What do you need, P.J.?”

“I need a score for a new play with an early nineteenth-century New Orleans setting.” He shared a smile with Chandra when she winked at him. “It’s a dramatic musical.”

A pregnant silence filled the interior of the vehicle. “Did you say musical?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Hold up, prince of darkness,” Ray teased, laughing. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft.”

“It’s nothing like that, Ray.”

“What happened?”

“I’m collaborating with someone who convinced me to leave the dark side for my next project.”

“Good for her.”

“How do you know it’s a she?” Preston asked.

“I know you too well, P.J. If she was a he, and if it’s a musical, then it wouldn’t have been about nineteenth, but twenty-first-century New Orleans.” His New Orleans sounded like Nawlins.

Preston wanted to tell Ray that he didn’t know him that well. It had been the same with Clifford Jessup. Cliff had felt so comfortable managing his business affairs that he’d found himself with one less client.

“Can you spare some time where we can get together to talk about what I want?” he asked instead.

“I’m free tomorrow. I’d rather get together at your house. Beth isn’t due for another two weeks, but she’s been complaining about contractions. I don’t want to be too far away if and when she does go into labor.”

The reason Preston had moved into the city was not to conduct business out of his home, but with Ray’s wife’s condition he would make an exception. “That’s not a problem. Better yet, bring Beth with you. If the warm weather holds, we can cook and eat outdoors.”

The lyricist met his artist wife when they were involved in a summer stock production written by a Bucks County playwright. Ray had written the songs, while Beth designed the set decorations. It was love at first sight, and they married two months later. They’d recently celebrated their tenth wedding anniversary, and now were expecting their first child.

“It would do Beth good to get out of the house,” Ray remarked.

“How does one o’clock sound to you?” Preston asked.

“One is good. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Preston smiled. “One it is.” He ended the call, placing the phone on the console between the seats. Following the images on the GPS, he made a left turn on the road leading to Paoli. “Will you join me tomorrow?”

Preston’s query was so unexpected that Chandra replayed it in her head. She stared at his distinctive profile for a full minute. “You want me to join you where?”

“I have a house in Kennett Square, and I’d like you to be present when I meet with Ray Hardy.”

She sat up straighter, all of her senses on full alert. “Are you talking about the Raymond Hardy?”

“Yes. Since you suggested a musical, then I’ll leave the music portion of the play up to you.”

Chandra felt her pulse quicken. Raymond Hardy had been compared to British lyricist Sir Tim Rice, whose collaboration with composer Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber had earned them countless awards and honors in the States and across the pond.

She gave Preston a skeptical look. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

“No. My task will be to write the dialogue, while the music will be at your discretion.”