Know Her, Love Her: Daisy & Belmont, Book ONE (LOVE in the USA 4)
CONTENTS
Know Her, Love Her (Daisy & Belmont, Book ONE)
License Note
Amazon - Books - LOVE in the USA
Chapter One - Mr. Entitled
Chapter Two - A Chipped Heart
Chapter Three - Under a Rock
Chapter Four - Getting Down to Business
Chapter Five - Missed Messages
Chapter Six - Dire Consequences
Chapter Seven - What Happens Next
Chapter Eight - A New Place
Chapter Nine - Papa May Have
Chapter Ten - Poking The Sleeping Bear
Chapter Eleven - The Scene of A Crime
About The Author
Know Her, Love Her
(Daisy & Belmont, Book ONE)
LOVE in the USA
by
Z.L. Arkadie
Learn More About Z.L. Arkadie
Cover Design by Karri Klawiter of Art by Karri Photo Illustrator
Copyright © 2014 Z.L. Arkadie Books
License Notes
All rights reserved, including right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form or by any means whatsoever without prior written permission from the author.
Links To Available Books in the LOVE in the USA Series
A sexy kind of LOVE…
Find Her, Keep Her - A Martha’s Vineyard Love Story
There’s Something About Her, A Manhattan Love Story
Say You Love Her, An LA Love Story
Know Her, Love Her (Daisy & Belmont, Book ONE)
Still In Love With Her (Maggie & Vince, Book ONE)
Coming September 2014
CHAPTER ONE
Mr. Entitled
The cold mugs me as I step out of the hotel lobby and onto the sidewalk. It’s the middle of May and forty-three degrees in downtown Chicago, a stark difference from the ninety degrees of dry heat I left in L.A. I shake off the chill and take long, fast strides up Pearson, across Michigan Avenue, up State to Grand and Clark, slowing only when halted by Don’t Walk signs. I have a lunch meeting with Dexter Frampton, an independent television producer who’s producing a show for Travel Station X, a new cable network. Everything that could go wrong this morning went wrong. I knocked over my bottle of mouthwash, and it spilled all over the floor. The dress shoes I packed don’t match. Toothpaste squirted on my dress suit, and I had to put on the outfit I flew in wearing yesterday. I’d left my cell phone in the hotel restaurant last night, but I didn’t realize it until fifteen minutes after our meeting was to start this morning. I had to rush down to the front desk to claim it.
I’m hot and sweaty when I rush into King’s Corner Bistro.
“Welcome. How many?” the sprightly hostess sings before I reach her station.
“I’m here to meet Mr. Dexter Frampton,” I say.
Her eyebrows crumple as though I just asked her a trick question. I wish I could offer more information, but he and I have never met.
I lift a finger. “One second.” I step away to call him.
“That would be me.”
I look up at a man with light brown skin, piercing blue eyes, and chiseled facial features. I’m momentarily caught off guard by how attractive he is.
“Daisy Lord?” he asks.
“Um, yes.” I take my hand out of my purse and offer him a handshake. “I’m so sorry I’m late. My day got off to a rough start.”
His smile enhances his classic good looks. “No worries. Our table is this way.”
It’s eleven thirty a.m., and the lunch crowd is arriving in droves. Our table is on the quieter side of the restaurant though. I order a seafood salad, and Dexter asks for the rib-eye steak.
“The network has ordered four episodes. They’ll run one per week. If we get the ratings, then they’ll order six more,” Dexter says.
The waitress brings my coffee and his whiskey. He studies me as I sip my morning glory.
“You do know that I’m a travel writer, not a TV personality?” I clarify. “I won’t be able to pull off the smiley, cheery TV host act.”
“I want the person who wrote the book, and no one else.”
“Oh, her…”
He frowns.
“It’s just that I haven’t written anything for over a year. I’m not sure…” I shake my head and look out the window. Rain beats down on the cluster of cars stopped at the red light. “If I’m still good at it.”
A lot has changed since I married Belmont and had Joella. My daughter died. She went into cardiac arrest in the hospital, and they were unable to revive her. Belmont and I went from never arguing to saying mean things to each other almost every day. He’s said that he’s tired of competing with a dead man, referring to my brother, Daniel, who was struck by a car when we were kids. He’s accused me of being unable to love anyone. I’ve said he’s controlling and he smothers me. One day, Belmont said that he should leave, and I said fine. That was four months ago. We haven’t seen each other since.
“Then why did you agree to see me?” Dexter asks.
“My agent wants me to give him permission to sell you the TV rights to my book. Initially I said no, but he convinced me to at least hear you out.”
Dexter cocks his head and inspects me. “I don’t think that’s why you came here.”
“Well, it is,” I say cynically.
“I was adamant about you hosting the show. You’re curious,” he claims.
I shrug. “Of course I am, but I’m also sensible.”
“If you don’t mind, may I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure.” My tone says I’m guarded.
“Are you still married to Jack Lord?”
“I am.” A knot forms in my throat. “But we’re separated.”
Dexter doesn’t look surprised. Probably everyone in the universe has read in the tabloids that billionaire Jack Lord separated from his wife.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says.
“Me too.”
The moment of silence is appropriate.
“I really want you to be our host. If anything, the audience will tune in just to look at you for an hour.” He cracks a smile.
He doesn’t sound or look as if he’s flirting, but I think he is. “If that’s what you’re counting on to boost ratings, then you’re in trouble.” I only smoked for one year while I was in high school. I stopped after my health teacher showed us a film of what lung cancer looks like. I could sure use a cigarette right now.
Dexter laughs. “Come on, Daisy. I’ve heard that you’re adventurous. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll make this a pleasant experience for you.”
“You’ve heard I was adventurous?”
“It’s in every page of your book.”
We grin at each other as the waitress puts our plates in front of us. My salad smells so good. I’m starving because I missed breakfast. Yet another thing that went wrong this morning.
“How long will it take to shoot the first four episodes?” I ask, digging into my food.
Dexter explains how they plan to feature domestic destinations like the Florida Keys, the states of Vermont and Rhode Island, and wrap in Chicago. The starting budget is small, but they’ll go international if they’re picked up for a full season. They want me to help write and produce the segments as well as host them.
“How about La Côte d'Azur?” I suggest.
“Ah, the French Riviera.”
“Yes, but you can start in Barcelona, Spain, and end in Genoa, Italy. I could make it economical and interesting. I don’t think many Americans know how easy and s
afe it is to vacation along the blue coast. The articles I wrote on that region weren’t part of the taxicab series—”
“Because you took trains, busses, and rented cars,” Dexter finishes my sentence as if I’d quizzed him.
I crack a smile. “You’re trying to impress me?”
He tosses his head back and lets out a quiet laugh. “Is it working?”
I chuckle. “Maybe. But you never said how long it will take to shoot four episodes.”
“About two months. If you can come up with a proposal and shooting schedule that won’t break our budget, then maybe we can do Europe in, say, three months?”
I gaze across the room to ponder. I don’t expect to see anything interesting, but a familiar set of eyes meets mine. I blink to make sure I’m not hallucinating. Is Belmont sitting at a table with an attractive brunette? The neckline of her purple dress plunges down over her plump cleavage. Out of all the restaurants in the world, I can’t believe he’s in this one.
I panic and retrieve my purse from the back of my chair as I shoot to my feet. “I have to go.”
Dexter stands. “You have to leave?” He’s observing me as though I’m a crazy person.
“Did you arrange this meeting with him?” I nod toward Belmont, who’s still watching us.
“Huh?” He turns to see who I’m referring to. His frown deepens. “Is that your husband?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“He has nothing to do with me asking you to be part of our show.”
“Then why is he here?”
“Perhaps to eat lunch. This is a popular spot.”
“Right.” I’m distracted by the mystery woman reaching across the table to touch his hand. “Dexter, it was nice to meet you in person. I’ll arrange the television rights with my agent.”
I turn to leave, but he catches my shoulder. “Daisy, wait. What about hosting and producing?”
“I’m not a host or a producer,” I say through my constricting throat.
Dexter smiles. “But you’re an adventurist, and that’s better than a pretty talking head.”
I look at Belmont, who’s now standing. “I don’t know. Give me time to think about it.”
“Twenty-four hours?”
“That soon?”
“We have to get started by next Monday if we’re going to make this happen.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
He removes his hand from my shoulder. “I’ll be waiting. But, Daisy, this show won’t work without you.”
How many times have I heard Helena say that to whomever she was trying to persuade? “Right.”
I rush out into the afternoon rainstorm. The first Walk sign I meet is flashing red. I dart across the street before the last twelve seconds expire just in case Belmont is chasing me. It’s a shame that I’m running away from my own husband. People trot around me, all trying to make it to dry destinations. I don’t slow my pace as I turn down streets I didn’t use to get here.
The rain stops, but my dress is soggy by the time I cross Michigan Avenue. I glance over both shoulders to see if Belmont has followed me. I’m slightly disappointed that he’s nowhere in sight, but if he had caught up to me, I wouldn’t know what to say to him. The doorman and I exchange greetings as I enter. He’s gracious enough to ignore the fact that I look like a wet cat. After reaching my suite, I strip out of my clothes and draw myself a hot bath. The moment Belmont and I saw each other loops in my head.
I get in the tub, close my eyes, and pretend as if that lunch didn’t happen. But it did happen. Since Belmont left me in our Malibu home, I haven’t been happier, sadder, or more content. I’ve been stuck in a constant state of insouciance. My marriage has fallen apart, and feeling nothing is the only way I know how to cope. Four months, and I haven’t received a phone call, email, or surprise visit from Belmont. When I saw him, it was as if I were looking at a handsome ghost. He accused me of not loving him, but that’s not true. I’m just not sure he loves the real me, or even if he’s able to love the real me.
I’m struggling to reach a state of complete relaxation when my cell phone rings. My heart flutters. Could it be him? I spring out of the tub, splashing water on the tile. My hopes are thwarted when I read the name on the screen.
I brace myself for the unexpected. “Hi, Angel.”
“Daisy, are you in Chicago?”
“Yes, why?”
“Did you see Belmont today?”
I sigh and tiptoe back to the bathroom to wrap a towel around myself. “He told you?”
“He wanted to know if you’re seeing the producer.”
I stop rubbing the towel down my leg. “How does he know Dexter’s a producer?”
“He said he asked him.”
My mouth falls open. “He spoke to Dexter?”
“Well, you know Belmont. I didn’t.”
“You didn’t what?”
“I was talking to Charlie. So how long are you two going to keep this up? It’s just crazy that you’ve been apart this long.”
“Well, he’s the one who had a date, and they looked pretty cozy.” I twist my hair up into a bun. Angelina’s silence speaks louder than words, and I ask, “He’s with her?”
“Well…”
“What’s her name?” My heart wants to implode.
“I don’t know what’s going on between them but… She has to know,” she says to Charlie.
I hate when she cuts away from our conversations to talk to Charlie.
“I have to know what?” The walls of the bathroom are closing in on me. Belmont’s and my separation finally feels real.
“All I know is he brought her to Curtis’s wedding, and I thought they were behaving like a couple.”
“Don’t tell her that,” Charlie says from somewhere near her.
“Oh, that’s right, Curtis got married in February.”
Curtis Levin is Belmont, Maggie, and Charlie’s cousin. Belmont and I were invited as a couple, but it seems he’s already replaced me. Oh well—my heart is broken, but easy come, easy go.
“I was going to tell you, but Charlie talked me out of it. He said all you needed was a reason.”
“A reason for what?”
“You know,” she says.
“No, I don’t know.” I’m a little huffy. “He left me, remember?”
“But you didn’t care.”
“I care.”
Angelina is silent. “Maybe you should talk to someone. Papa has a friend.”
“He has lots of friends.”
“This one’s a psychotherapist, and he specializes in intense couple’s counseling.”
I blurt a sarcastic laugh. “You think I need a shrink? And one who’s a friend of Jacques? Who, by the way, could stand some shrinking himself.”
“He’s won awards.”
“Oh well, good for him.”
Angelina sighs. “What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing!” That’s not true. I’m afraid that Belmont might be right about me.
“Just consider it. He’s one of the best in the world.”
“Angel, please. I’m hungry.”
I hear Charlie ask, “What did she say?” Apparently he thinks I need to see a psychotherapist too.
“Just think about it, okay? His name is Luc Calvet. I’ve already talked to him, and he’s willing to make himself available whenever you’re ready.”
I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. The walls have stopped closing in on me. Now they’ve expanded, leaving me naked and exposed. I study my image in the mirror. Look sad, Daisy. Cry. Let yourself feel a powerful emotion.
“Angel, good night. I love you,” I say, studying my reflection. I do love her even though Belmont said I wasn’t capable of loving anyone.
“I know, Daisy. I love you too. And hey, you never RSVP’d.”
Finally, I feel tears welling up. “RSVP’d for what?”
“Our engagement party.”
“Who is the ‘our’ you’re referring to?”
“Charlie and me!”
I’m taken aback. “When did you and Charlie get engaged? I thought you were against ceremonies and crap like that.”
“Well, Curtis’s wedding convinced us that we were wrong. We got engaged a few months ago. I thought I told you.”
“Apparently you hadn’t.”
“Well, we are. The party is on… June 12th in Iberville. You have to come. I mean it.”
“I would never miss it. I’ll even put up with Belmont and his girlfriend if I have to.”
“She’s not invited.”
I smile. “My hero.”
She chuckles.
“How awkward will it be when Belmont and I are divorced, and you and Charlie are living happily ever after?”
“Don’t say that. You guys are going to fix this. Just wait and see,” Angelina says.
I fall silent. I hope she’s right. I remember our eye contact at the restaurant, and my heart skips a beat.
“I can’t wait to see you,” she says. “Maggie will be there.”
We spend fifteen minutes talking about how Maggie has left her position at A&Rt Media Group to branch out on her own. It’s a good move, and a brave one, except she’s in business with her friend Monroe. Angelina insists that Monroe isn’t that stable. After we hang up, I put on a pair of jeans, white tank top, leather jacket, and ankle boots and take the elevator down to the hotel restaurant for dinner.
A jazz ensemble is performing, and since I’m by myself, the host convinces me to sit in one of the cushy throne chairs in the lounge area. The décor is art deco, a modern take on the decadent Roaring Twenties. I take off my jacket. Before I can get comfortable and drink in the ambiance, Belmont sits in the chair across from me.
“Hey,” I barely say. I’m shocked to see him.
Belmont regards me with the same cold expression he used before he up and left. “Congratulations on your new job.” He stands to take off his black overcoat. He’s wearing heather-gray slacks and a navy-blue V-neck sweater.
I can hardly concentrate. He’s as scrumptious as he was this morning. We definitely have our issues, but attraction isn’t one of them. “What new job?”