The Elliotts: Secret Affairs. Susan Crosby
gun on the competition. She was worried about Aunt Finny, who was way too tense, and determined to win, and was spending far too much time in the office these days.
“Scarlet!” Jessie ran up to her at the elevator, holding tight to a red helium-filled balloon. “This just came. There wasn’t a card, but the delivery guy said it was for you.”
Scarlet spied a piece of paper inside the balloon. She had no doubt who’d sent it.
But what did the note say?
“Thanks,” she said to Jessie, leaving her curiosity unsatisfied as Scarlet stepped into the waiting elevator. “See you tomorrow.”
She strode down Park Avenue, the string wrapped securely around her hand, the balloon hovering just above her head. She smiled as she walked. People smiled back. It was a drizzly spring day, but it was beautiful.
The man learned fast, she thought. He could’ve talked to her while they were in her cubicle, or called her after he’d returned to his office. Instead he sent her a balloon. How imaginative. Maybe it held a little apology for last Saturday night, as well as a reminder of the upcoming Saturday night.
She hailed a cab, lucky to find one unoccupied. Then at the town house she swung open the gate and headed for the door to the underground pool and garage to get to her private entrance. The sound of someone knocking on a window caught her attention. She spied her grandmother waving at her, motioning her to come through the front door.
Gram rarely came into the city anymore unless she was going on a shopping binge, in which case she made arrangements to shop with Scarlet in tow. They always made a day of it.
Curious why Gram hadn’t alerted Scarlet that she was coming, Scarlet climbed the front stairs and walked into the entry, where a grand piano held center stage. When someone played, the sound reverberated through the entire three-story house.
“What are you doing here?” she asked her grandmother as they hugged.
“We have tickets for the opera. We came early so that Patrick could go into the office.” She smiled at the balloon. “It’s a special occasion, then, is it?”
“What? Oh, someone was passing them out. They’re advertising something.”
Maeve’s brows lifted. “And you carried it all the way home?”
Scarlet shrugged, trying to look innocent. “It suited my mood.”
“Why don’t you pop it and see what’s inside?”
“I, um, don’t really care what’s inside. I’d like to enjoy the balloon for a while.”
Gram’s eyes held a secret smile. “If you don’t want to share the note, just say so, colleen. I respect your privacy.”
Then for no fathomable reason the balloon popped on its own and the note went flying, landing faceup at Maeve’s feet. Scarlet grabbed it before her grandmother could bend down, then held it up to read.
I look forward to Saturday night. Pick you up at eight.
Scarlet somehow managed not to sigh her relief at the G-rated note, unsure whether her grandmother had had time to read it or not.
“So, you have a date tonight, then,” Gram said, her eyes twinkling.
Scarlet looked at the note again. “No. Saturday.”
Maeve pointed to it. “I think you’ve got a different message on the other side.”
With dread Scarlet turned the note over. Tonight. Nine. Be prepared for some lessons of your own.
Gram laughed, softly at first, then with utter amusement at Scarlet’s embarrassment.
“A healthy love life is a good thing. Is it anyone I know, then?”
Scarlet’s face heated to broil. “Gram, please.”
“Someone your granddad would approve of, for a change?”
She wished she could answer yes. Wished it with all her heart. But no one would be happy with her choice of John Harlan. No one.
Her grandmother patted her on the arm. “I won’t tell Patrick, if that’s your worry.”
“I’m just not ready to talk about it.”
“Sure, then, I’ll leave it alone for now. Oh. We’ll be taking the helicopter back to The Tides tonight, so you don’t have to be worrying about us seeing your young man in the morning.”
Like there was any way she would let John come over tonight, knowing that Patrick could change his mind and be there in the morning.
“Have a wonderful time at the opera,” she said to her impish grandmother.
“I don’t suppose you’ll be visiting us this weekend?”
Scarlet laughed. “Good night.” She headed to the indoor staircase, appreciating, as she always did, the calm, tasteful decor of the town house, decorated so similarly to The Tides. Maeve Elliott knew how to bring peace to a place—and a person.
When she reached her floor, she went straight into her room and dialed John’s number.
“You got my balloon?” he asked, his voice full of sexy promise.
“My grandmother got your balloon.”
“What?”
Good. At least she’d shocked him in return. “I was reading your lovely note about Saturday, while she was reading your more direct note on the other side.”
The sharp, succinct curse that came next made her relax, although she didn’t know why.
“What did she say?” he asked.
“That you could spend the night.”
A long pause, then, “I beg your pardon?”
“You didn’t sign your name to the note, so she doesn’t know it’s you specifically, but she made it clear that my young man could spend the night. She and Granddad are taking the copter home tonight.”
A pause ensued. “I’m not willing to risk that,” he said.
“Neither am I.”
“Are you disappointed?”
She waited a couple of beats to answer him, not because she didn’t know the answer but because she wasn’t sure she wanted him to know exactly how disappointed she was.
“I’m going to take that as a yes. Saturday night is still a go, though, right?”
“Of course.”
“Scarlet? About Saturday night … Is that to be a Woo U date, like a real first date?”
“You mean with no fringe benefits?”
“I’m just trying to know what to expect. Having two different—and opposite—relationships doesn’t make things simple.”
“It’s a first date,” she said. “We’ve already straightened out a few errors you’ve made in the past. Let’s see if anything else needs fixing.”
“All right.”
She couldn’t tell if he was disappointed, but she could guess. She didn’t know how well she could stick to her own rules herself. She was still revved up from Saturday night at the country club. Just sitting next to him at the meeting today had made her wish they could find a dark corner somewhere and put an end to the aching need.
“Goodnight, John,” she said as cheerfully as possible.
“‘Night.”
Scarlet changed into casual pants and a top, grabbed a leftover chicken Caesar salad from the refrigerator, then settled on the sofa with her sketch pad. She’d been unusually creative lately, ideas flowing so easily that she had already filled one pad