Holiday Home Run - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,15

may not have snuck a sliver of Rosa’s flan on the way out.”

The teasing glint in Julia’s hazel eyes easily drew an answering smile from him. He wanted to whisk her away to a quiet corner where he could have her to himself. Spend the evening enjoying the heat from the fire and sharing a bottle of wine while the lights from Navy Pier in the distance and the stars sprinkled across the sky sparkled around them.

“With that sweet tooth of yours, I’m sure Rosa expected you to sample,” he told Julia, pleasure warming his chest when her smile broadened into a huge grin.

“Ah, you know me too well.”

“Not yet.”

Julia tilted her head, giving him a speculative look. Before she could respond to his not too subtle intent, Sherman Taylor approached, his hand outstretched in greeting.

The prominent lawyer ushered them over to chat with two middle-aged couples seated in a pair of dark brown wicker patio couches and matching ottomans. A brick and metal gas fire pit nestled in the center of the gathering space creating a warm, inviting ambiance.

Introductions were made for Julia, then Sherman drifted away to pour her a glass of pinot noir. One of the husbands, a salt-and-pepper-haired criminal defense lawyer, asked Ben how he enjoyed living near the ballpark in Wrigleyville. This led into a discussion of the relatively new area known as the town square, the Park at Wrigleyville.

“Have you been yet?” the lawyer’s wife asked Julia.

“No, I haven’t. Though I hope to get there to try a bit of ice skating,” she answered. “That would be a first for me.”

“You should go!” the woman encouraged. “I took our kids last weekend and they had a great time.”

The conversation moved on to other topics, though Ben listened with only half an ear.

He was too busy concocting an idea. One he hoped he could entice Julia to say yes to. So far, any mention of sharing dinner or coffee outside their event planning had been politely declined. But this . . . it just might be the ticket.

A short while later, Lilí joined their group. He started to rise and offer her his seat on an ottoman, but Julia slid over on the deep red sofa cushion to make room for her cousin to sit in between her and one of the wives.

The move brought Julia closer to him, their knees brushing against one another’s. Like a randy adolescent sitting next to his first crush, Ben felt his body hum at the innocent contact. Surreptitiously, he tugged on his dress pants leg, adjusting himself.

Though she didn’t say anything, Ben noticed Lilí placed a cell phone on Julia’s lap. She furtively tapped the screen to draw Julia’s attention to something displayed there.

Julia ducked her head to read the message. Her mouth thinned the slightest bit and he caught her heavy sigh.

“Will you excuse me?” Julia said to the group. She pushed off the couch, bringing Ben to his feet alongside her. “I’ll be right back.”

Ben waited for her to pass by, then followed her inside the penthouse, concerned about the frown marring her normally smooth brow.

“Everything okay?” he asked, closing the door behind them and silencing the din of conversation.

Though they had gathered to celebrate Thanksgiving, Christmas music played softly on hidden speakers. Laura even had a stately Douglas fir, artfully decorated in red and gold ornaments and ribbons with tinkly white lights, holding court near the far bank of windows overlooking Navy Pier and Lake Michigan.

The tree lights glinted off Julia’s gold crucifix necklace. The brightness clashed with the apprehension stamping her features.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” she said, belying her expression. “I’ve been avoiding a phone call, but apparently it can’t be put off anymore.”

She held Lilí’s cell in a death grip, her fist jiggling the device back and forth at her side. Her gaze shot around the living room, into the formal dining room up three steps off to the right, then across to the sitting area on the left, as if searching for a place to make her call.

“You might want to try the library. You’ll have more privacy there,” he suggested.

“Thanks, I’ll ask a staff member where I can find it.”

“Here, I’ll show you the way.” With a hand on her lower back, Ben led her through the room, down the hall toward the office and library.

Tension vibrated in her stiff shoulders and shadowed her smooth features.

“This is my favorite piece in Sherman and Laura’s collection.” As they neared it, Ben pointed at

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