Leanne Banks: Underfoot

“Okay,” he said, wondering at her lack of friendliness. “You’re not upset about that night we—”

“No,” she said before he could finish. “It was just one of those strange things that happen. Like a meteor dropping in the desert. Or an airplane dropping frozen water on a house.”

He wrinkled his brow at the comparisons she chose for the night they’d spent together. He wasn’t sure he liked the second one. “I don’t really remember that much about—”

“Neither do I because we were both smashed. So there’s really no need to discuss it.”

He nodded. “I hope it won’t affect our working relationship.”

“If we work together, I’m sure it won’t be a problem. Long time ago.”

“We will be working together,” Walker said, determined to remove any doubt. “I’ll do what it takes to keep the Bellagio account.”

She didn’t jump for joy at his words, making him wonder. Trina had always been friendly toward him. Not seductive, but nice. Why the change?

“You do want me for this account, don’t you?”

“I want the very best for Bellagio,” she said. “How can we be sure you won’t head back to France?”

“Because I said I’m staying here. It’s not just for business reasons,” he told her. “My uncle just had heart surgery. He needs someone to live with while he recovers. I’ve been elected.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Wow. I never saw you as the nurturing type.”

“I’m not,” he said. “But this is different. He showed up for my graduations, gave my sister and brother and me money every now and then. He didn’t ever have any kids of his own, but he kept an eye on us after my father cut and ran.”

“Gordon curse,” she murmured.

“What?”

“Oh, it was something you mentioned about why you didn’t want to have children. Some sort of curse, long line of fathers…”

“Yeah,” he said, surprised that she recalled. “I didn’t remember telling you that. I don’t talk about my father much.”

She shrugged. “It was a very strange night.” She glanced at her watch again. “I need to run. I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“Same,” he said. “I’ll be seeing you soon and often.”

“Take care,” she said and slid into her chair, opening her laptop.

TRINA WATCHED the very fine backside of Walker as he left her office, and told herself to breathe. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of her baby daughter Maddie’s picture and held it in her lap. Her fingers began to tremble.

She hadn’t counted on him returning to Atlanta, let alone to Bellagio. Walker had plenty of accounts. He didn’t need Bellagio. And why put himself in a position where he had to respond to gossip and bad jokes about his failed wedding?

But she hadn’t counted on his pride. Trina had convinced herself that she wouldn’t meet him face-to-face again until she was on her death bed, or at least until Maddie, her daughter, graduated from high school.

She swore under her breath.

Dora burst through her doorway. “That was Walker Gordon. He’s so hot. Why did Brooke dump him?”

Trina’s hands continued to shake and she closed them around each other over the photo in her lap. “I couldn’t say,” she managed.

“But he seems like he’s so over her.” Dora twirled her finger around her hair. “You worked with him before. What do you know about him? He obviously works out. Do you know which club he belongs to? Where does he hang out?”

Trina stared at Dora in exasperation. “How would I know? He’s been hanging out in Paris for the last year.”

“Chill out. I was just asking. I’m single. He’s single. I wouldn’t mind a chance to help rebuild his—” She paused and smiled like a female devil. “Ego.”

“I don’t think his ego needs rebuilding,” Trina muttered.

“Oh really?” Dora asked, her face lighting up. “What makes you say that? Did he say anything about me? He gave me the look, you know, like he liked what he saw.”

“I’m sure he did,” Trina said, hoping her agreement would shoo Dora away. “You’re a pretty girl.”

Dora gave a coy smile. “Well, what a sweet thing to say. Thank you,” she drawled. “I’m so lucky I’ve never had a weight problem. I can eat anything I want.”

Before she’d gotten pregnant, Trina had been able to eat anything she wanted. Not so now. She gritted her teeth and smiled.

“You know, if you would lose ten pounds and cut your hair, I bet you would get out a lot more.”

“I don’t really want to get out a lot more right now,” Trina said.

Dora appeared not to have heard her. “I’m not sure you could get Walker’s attention but—”

Trina blinked at the insult. She should have seen it coming. The way Dora pulled a knife out in her sweetest tone reminded Trina of her mother. She took a deep breath. “Dora, trust me. I couldn’t be less interested in getting Walker Gordon’s attention.”

Dora fell silent and stared at Trina for a long moment. She narrowed her eyes. “You know something. What’s wrong with him?”

Gross miscalculation to reassure Dora of her lack of interest in Walker. Her second or third miscalculation of the day.

Trina spent the rest of the day unsuccessfully dodging Dora’s questions.

“Does he have a mental condition? Is he a secret sicko?” Dora asked an hour later.

“Not to my knowledge,” Trina said and left for a meeting.

When she returned, Dora followed her into her office. “Is he emotionally or physically abusive?”

“No,” Trina said in horror. “At least, I haven’t heard that he is.”

Dora sighed in obvious frustration. “Then maybe it’s something super personal.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Does he have a forked—” She stopped. “You know. Down there?”

“A forked wha—” She broke off as realization hit. “Absolutely not,” she said, then quickly added, “Not from what I’ve heard.”

Dora frowned. “Then why don’t you want him? He’s gorgeous. He’s loaded. He’s smart.”

“It’s probably hormonal,” Trina manufactured. “Since I had Maddie, I’m not interested in anyone. I’m much more interested in a good night’s sleep.”

“Oh,” Dora said with a nod of sympathy. “And that’s probably why you’ve let yourself go.”

Trina blinked. She should have seen that insult coming. Counting to ten, she gritted her teeth. “How kind of you to notice.”

Dora’s eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just obvious you’re not putting a lot of effort into your appearance. I could help you if you’d like.”

“That’s okay, Dora. What I’d like is for you to print the press releases for Jenny Prillaman’s new designs along with the accompanying letters. I’d like to give them a quick once-over before they’re sent out. Thanks,” she said in a dismissive tone.

Trina took her quick lunch break at the company day-care center. Due to a bumper crop of pregnancies and babies, Bellagio had joined with another company close by to provide service for the children of their employees.

After going through three nannies, Trina had brought Maddie to the day-care center with a few reservations. She preferred one-on-one care for her daughter and also worried about infections, but she loved the proximity and the convenience of visiting Maddie when she could squeeze in a break during her workday.

She walked into the room for babies where her six-month-old daughter was being fed oatmeal by an assistant teacher. “How has she been today?”

“Sweet, but active. I think she may be an early crawler. Good luck,” the teacher said with a rueful smile.

Just then, Maddie glanced up and caught sight of Trina. She let out an earsplitting shriek and banged her fists on her high chair.