Initiation (Master Class, #1) - Sierra Cartwright Page 0,5
open concept with the kitchen seamlessly transitioning to the dining area adjacent to the living room.
The most stunning feature was a bank of picture windows that faced east and overlooked downtown Denver. Generally the view was breathtaking, but this evening a layer of threatening clouds loomed, making it seem as if he and Jennifer were cut off from the rest of the world. Until now, he hadn’t appreciated it.
Festive streamers hung from the soaring wooden beams. Red and white balloons were everywhere, tied to chairs, attached to end tables, floating at various heights over every flat surface.
“The place looks great,” Jennifer said.
“Joe missed his calling as an interior decorator.”
“He did this, really?” She glanced at him. “I figured they hired a company.”
Logan made a circular motion near his temple. “He says it’s relaxing.”
“I wouldn’t think so. Cleaning. Cooking. Inviting people. Tracking the RSVPs. Prep work.” She shuddered.
Yet Joe did it routinely. At least once a month, he made the trek from his Cherry Creek home to his house in the foothills to organize play parties for his closest friends.
“If there are only going to be a few people, this is a lot of cupcakes.” She looked toward the three-tiered structure on the dining room table.
Plates were piled high, sitting next to the napkins and silverware. Glass dishes were filled with mints and nuts. An inviting, expensive bottle of bubbly was chilling in an elegant stainless-steel bucket.
A chime sounded and Jennifer checked her phone.
A moment later, his phone vibrated and he pulled it out of his pocket. Seeing there was a message from Joe, Logan entered his pass code, then read the text.
Surprise!
Logan frowned.
“What the hell?” Jennifer sounded disconcerted.
He glanced up from his screen.
“It’s from Noelle,” she said. “It says surprise.”
Logan turned his phone so she could read it.
“Now I’m really confused,” she confessed.
Both phones signaled new messages.
Happy Valentine’s Day! The house is all yours. Don’t do anything we wouldn’t, and enjoy the evening! We love you both… Joe and Noelle
P.S. The champagne is for the two of you to enjoy.
“I think we’ve been had,” Logan said unnecessarily.
She closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them, he again noticed how intense they were, but tonight the blue was spiked with gold flecks of anger.
“Noelle knows I hate Valentine’s Day. I’ll kill her. Kill her. Long. Painful. Slow. Very freaking slow.” She focused her gaze on him.
“I had nothing to do with it. I swear.” Still holding his phone, he raised his hands. “I hate Valentine’s Day too.”
“Do you?” She put a hand on her heart and tipped her head to the side, regarding him skeptically.
“Rather have a root canal than deal with it.”
“Yet here we are.”
The truth was as cold as the Colorado windchill. “Set up by our best friends,” he said.
“Some friends.”
He lowered his hands.
“All this stuff. We can’t just leave it out since we have no idea when they’ll be up here again.” She dug a hand into her hair, sending a lock spilling in front of her eyes. As she raked it back, she said, “God.”
“What?”
“We don’t even get to enjoy the party, and we have to clean up the mess.”
“Who says we don’t get to enjoy it?”
Their phones lit up again.
We’re celebrating in town. So feel free to spend the night.
Jennifer replied to the message. He didn’t know it was possible for a person’s fingers to move so fast. But then she stared at the screen as if expecting Noelle to respond instantly.
After thirty long, painful seconds, it was obvious no reply was coming. Instead, Jennifer touched an icon to call Noelle.
From a few feet away, he heard Noelle’s voice mail message.
“She turned off her phone,” Jennifer said, shock echoing in her voice. She tried Joe’s number and got the same result.
With a deep sigh, she tossed her phone onto the island. “Now what are we going to do?”
“I have an idea.” Logan dropped his phone into his pocket then crossed to the bucket that held the bottle of champagne. After pulling it from the ice, he looked at the label. “Expensive stuff. I’d hate for it to go to waste.” He removed the protective wire cage, then gave the cork a quick turn before popping it off. “How about a drink?”
Along with survival instincts, common sense urged Jennifer to get back in her car and head back to Denver. As she’d told the Divas the other night, the man spelled danger, in capital letters. It wasn’t just that compelling scar that zigzagged between