spare and stiff man who had seemed to regard his children like necessary but not-much-wanted accoutrements of modern life. David had not always admired that about him. Now he strove to emulate the emotional aloofness.
He caught sight of his wife, seated at a small table on the deck. Her back was to him, and across from her was a man in beach casual lightweight pants and a short-sleeved shirt - the kind of thing David had in his closet but rarely wore now that he was splitting all of his time between the office and the gym. Tess had her hair in one of those messy knots that appeared to have been put together in a moment and with one pin, but that he knew for a fact could take her up to thirty minutes to perfect.
It was a sexy look he'd always loved on her.
Apparently her companion felt the same, because he leaned forward and reached for the hand she had resting on the table. He covered it, a gesture so proprietary that David had to suppress the vicious urge to rip off the bastard's arm.
But he wouldn't, he promised himself, breathing deeply. The slick dude was the kind of man Tess should have married from the beginning. With a charming manner and affable smile, he would be able to schmooze a room instead of setting everyone to snoring with talk of commissions and expense sheets.
He and Tess had been a mismatch from the very beginning. She should have married another of the talent agency's famous clients instead of the guy who sat behind a desk perusing financial statements. Despite what was said in the press, not everyone in the entertainment business lacked morals.
And boring men who played with numbers all day could be the biggest fuck ups of them all.
As if she heard that thought, Tess turned, her gaze landing on him. Even from a deck away, her blue eyes stood out, and he was transported to that day fourteen years before. They'd collided in the entryway at work. With a sick feeling he'd watched her fly back, then fall to the floor.
He'd rushed to her side, horrified he'd hurt her and, worse, that he'd hurt her, the OM girl, who had some strange hold over the nation. He'd heard through the grapevine she'd just been booked on Leno, and here he might have broken her tailbone.
But she'd been laughing when he'd helped her up. Next thing he knew, his normally reserved self had insisted he buy her a cup of coffee. They'd walked down the street to the small sidewalk cafe where there were often sightings of celebrities that made it into Star magazine or episodes of Entertainment Tonight. He hadn't seen anyone but Tess.
She still captured his attention.
Her hand gestured him near. He threaded his way through the restaurant tables to stand beside her. "I was hoping you had a few minutes to talk," he said.
Her glance took in the empty plates on the table and then swept up to the man across from her. "Uh... Do you remember Reed Markov? He was the head photographer on the OM stuff, and - "
" - I call Tess about every two months, trying to convince her to get back in the business. I have the perfect project for her."
David narrowed his eyes. Sure. He knew exactly what kind of "perfect project" the other man had in mind. He recognized Reed now, remembered him from the early days of dating Tess.
"I wasn't sure the two of you were still together," Reed was saying.
David crossed his arms over his chest. "I recall you having trouble with that," he said. Another time, after they'd been married, Tess had invited the photographer to a cocktail party at their place. Reed had mentioned a perfect project then too, one that involved coaxing Tess to leave the house where she lived with her husband for a big bash in the Hollywood Hills that very night.
Classy guy.
The tension in the air, he figured, was what got Tess out of her chair. "Well, thank you, Reed. I'll be in touch."
Reed stood too. "I'd like to help you in any way I can, Tess." Then Mr. Perfect Project leaned over to kiss David's wife. On the mouth.
Maybe it was an air kiss gone awry. Maybe it was a casual kind of Hollywood farewell. Maybe a man who hadn't touched his wife's lips in months shouldn't object when they encountered those of someone else.