The Man Most Likely Page 6

  So this was the infamous Rhiannon. Angela had heard all about her from others, but had never had the opportunity to meet the woman who had reportedly once been asked to pose for an issue of Playboy dubbed Best of the West.

  Rhiannon’s gaze swept over Angela in a quick assessment. Angela could almost see the other woman weighing her on an imaginary scale. “We haven’t met,” Rhiannon said. “Are you the caterer?”

  “Speaking of caterers, I’d better make sure Marco took care of the coffee service,” Angela said. She nodded in Rhiannon’s direction. “It was nice meeting you.” Then she hurried away.

  Better to have Bryan think she was a flake than stand there and give him more time to compare her to Ms. Leather Pants. Even the strongest woman couldn’t bear up long under that kind of scrutiny.

  “Whoa! Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Tanya caught Angela by the arm as Angela hurried past.

  “I, um, wanted to make sure we weren’t running out of truffles,” Angela said. She smiled brightly. “Are you having fun? We had a great turnout, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah, it’s great.” Tanya leaned closer and scrutinized Angela’s face. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

  “I got too hot.” She fanned herself. “I’ll be fine when I’ve rested a moment.”

  “Speaking of hot…I saw you dancing with Bryan.” Tanya’s smile invited confidences. “You two have really hit it off, haven’t you?”

  “We’re just friends.”

  “Uh-huh. Isn’t that what everyone says when they’re trying to cover up the truth about a relationship? As if anyone believes that.”

  “There is no relationship between me and Bryan Perry, and that’s the truth.”

  “But there’s potential there. I recognized that the moment I saw you two looking at each other. There were definite sparks.”

  “There were?”

  “Trust me.” Tanya leaned closer and lowered her voice. “So, what are you going to do about him?”

  Angela swallowed. While she’d enjoyed fantasizing about her attraction to Bryan, dating him felt like too big a risk. She hated the way her self-confidence deserted her whenever he was around.

  “Hey, Angela, Tanya.” Casey joined them, her face slightly flushed from dancing. Or maybe from the glass of champagne in her hand. “This is a terrific party,” she said. “The Mountain Theatre should do this every year.”

  “Maybe we will,” Tanya said. “That’s a great dress.”

  “Thanks.” Casey turned to Angela, eyes shining. “So, what’s up with you and Bryan?”

  “Nothing is up with us. We’re just friends.”

  Casey and Tanya exchanged knowing looks. “He doesn’t have a steady girlfriend,” Casey said. “And Trish says he told Zephyr he’s ready to find Ms. Right and settle down.”

  The words made Angela’s stomach do backflips. “Maybe I don’t want to settle down,” she said, trying to sound as if she meant it. Truthfully, she wasn’t opposed to love and marriage and happily ever after, but she was definitely against opening herself up to big-time hurt in the pursuit of a remote possibility.

  Her two friends looked smug again, but said nothing. Like Angela, they turned to watch the dance floor. “I see Rhiannon’s got her claws out for Bryan again tonight,” Casey observed.

  “Mmmm,” Tanya said. “I thought she was dating Jack Crenshaw.”

  “They went out one time,” Casey said. “Jack is so not her type.”

  “And Bryan is her type?” Tanya asked.

  Casey shook her head. “They had some fun together for a while, I guess, but Zephyr told Trish, who told me, that they broke up because he thought she was too dumb and shallow.” She cut her gaze over to Angela. “Bryan isn’t into dumb or shallow.”

  “So he’s looking for someone smart,” Tanya said. “Someone interested in something besides fashion and gossip. Maybe someone with her own business and interesting hobbies.”

  “Exactly.” Casey finished her champagne. “I’ve always thought acting was a very interesting hobby.”

  “Cut it out, you two,” Angela said. “Why are you so concerned about this anyway?”

  “Think of us as the meddling sisters you never had,” Tanya said.

  “Yeah,” Casey agreed. “You’re part of the Crested Butte family now, which gives us carte blanche to insert ourselves in all of your affairs—but only because we love you.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” Angela said. “I think. But why don’t you leave it up to Bryan to decide who he’s interested in—and who he isn’t?”

  Casey looked exasperated. “Oh, please! If I’d left it up to Max to decide what he really felt about me, we’d both still be single.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Tanya said. “I’ve already proved I don’t know a thing about men.”

  “All I’m saying is, if you’re interested, you should let him know.” Casey nudged Angela. “You’re definitely a cut above the women he usually dates, so he might be a little intimidated.”

  Angela was glad she wasn’t drinking, or she might have embarrassed herself by shooting wine out of her nose. “Since when is a man who looks like that intimidated by any woman?”

  “Come on,” Casey said. “All men are still little boys somewhere inside. They get intimidated.”

  “How do you know this?” Angela asked.

  “Yeah,” Tanya said. “How do you know?”

  Casey glanced around them, then leaned close. “I have to swear you to secrecy first.”

  “We swear,” Tanya said.

  Angela nodded.

  Casey put up one hand to shield her mouth from view of any potential lip-readers on the dance floor. “Max told me. He swears it’s true. All men are intimidated by women at one time or another.”

  Angela’s gaze met Tanya’s. This was interesting information, though she wasn’t yet sure what it meant.

  The song ended and Rhiannon and Bryan moved apart. Someone hailed him from across the room, and he turned in that direction and was soon lost from view. Angela felt a pain around her heart. He was such a great guy, and there was definitely chemistry between the two of them. But chemistry alone didn’t guarantee a good outcome. Every cook knew it took the right combination of ingredients and the right conditions to create a masterpiece. Get one thing wrong and chocolate mousse became a chocolate mess.

  BRYAN WENT INTO WORK Monday fired up for the week. The Mountain Theatre fund-raiser had been the first major event he’d organized on his own and it had gone off without a hitch. Some of the organizers were already talking about returning to the hotel for a similar event next year. At this rate, the raise and greater responsibilities he craved would be his in no time at all. And maybe he could finally convince Zephyr and his other doubting friends that he was serious about making a name for himself in his new career.

  Not only had the fund-raiser gone well, but the evening had given him a chance to get to know Angela a little better. He’d enjoyed dancing with her and wished they could have spent more time talking, but other people kept pulling him away. Still, the conversation they had gave him hope that he could persuade her to reconsider her refusal to go out with him. Perhaps because of his past—or because of something in her own history—she was reluctant to move beyond the tentative friendship they’d established. But he was willing to work as hard to change her mind as he was to meet his goals in business.

  When Rachel notified him at about ten o’clock that Carl wanted to see him, Bryan went to Carl’s office with a smile on his face, sure his boss was going to congratulate him for a job well done.

  But Carl didn’t return Bryan’s smile. He looked downright grim as he motioned for Bryan to take a seat. “I wanted to talk to you about the fund-raiser Saturday night,” Carl said.

  “I thought it went very well,” Bryan said. “Everyone seemed very pleased and there were no problems at all.”

  “Yes. I heard quite a few people raving about the chocolate truffles that were offered for des
sert.”

  That was what Carl remembered about the evening—Angela’s truffles? “Did you try one?” Bryan asked. “They were delicious.”

  “I checked and Marco confirmed that truffles are not part of our catering menu.”

  Bryan’s stomach knotted. “No. Angela Krizova brought them from her shop, the Chocolate Moose.”

  The creases on Carl’s forehead deepened. “Company policy prohibits any kind of outside food at our catered functions.”

  “Yes, sir, but I thought an exception should be made in this case, since Ms. Krizova supplying the desserts was something the Mountain Theatre required before they would sign the contract.”

  “I’m sure if you’d explained the policy to them correctly they would have understood and agreed to comply with our rules.”

  “What difference does it make whether they bring the dessert or not?” Bryan asked, trying to curb his annoyance. “We catered the rest of the meal.”

  “With one hundred and sixty people in attendance, one hundred and sixty desserts at seven dollars each—” Carl jabbed at the ten-key calculator on the corner of his desk “—that comes to one thousand, one hundred and twenty dollars in lost revenue. A significant loss.”

  “Not compared to losing the event altogether.”

  “I think the chances they’d withdraw on the basis of a few truffles highly unlikely.”

  “Then why are you so upset? Isn’t it our job to keep the customer happy?”

  Carl blew out a long breath. “Our job is to keep the customer and the stockholders happy,” he said. “You don’t do that by ignoring over a thousand dollars. I’m sure we have desserts on our catering menu that would have pleased the theater group every bit as well as Ms. Krizova’s truffles—though I will agree they were delicious.”

  “So you did eat one.”

  “I ate two. Before I realized they had not come from our kitchens.”

  “I’ll keep the policy in mind next time,” Bryan said. It was the closest he could bring himself to an apology. As far as he was concerned, he’d done nothing wrong.

  “A man does not get ahead in this business by ignoring rules,” Carl said sternly.

  Bryan started to argue that stupid rules deserved to be ignored, but thought better of it. He managed a nod and kept his mouth shut.

  “When I hired you, you indicated you had ambitions to progress rapidly on a management track,” Carl continued. “To make up for lost time, I believe you said.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Deviating from company policies is not the behavior of a man who wants to be noticed—and promoted—by those higher up in the company.”

  “No, sir,” Bryan said. He felt like a schoolboy summoned to the principal’s office—a feeling he would have thought himself long grown out of by now.

  Carl leaned forward and assumed the expression of a concerned father. “I took a risk hiring you, knowing you have a somewhat…unorthodox background. I hope you won’t make me disappointed in my decision.”

  “No, sir.” Carl had taken a chance hiring him, and Bryan appreciated that. But did that mean he owed the man his soul?

  Carl sat back, his expression more congenial. “We all make mistakes, so I’ll overlook this transgression. I trust it won’t happen again.”

  “No, sir.”

  “That’s fine. I’m glad we cleared that up.” Carl smiled. “Have you reviewed those financial reports I gave you last week?”

  “Yes, sir.” Determined not to seem like a pouting teenager, Bryan sat up straighter and focused on the reports. “I noticed a few areas where costs seemed to be out of line and I wanted to discuss them with you.”

  “Excellent. Why don’t you write me a report outlining your findings and I’ll review it?”

  It wasn’t the one-on-one discussion he’d hoped for, but Bryan wasn’t going to push his luck. He recognized a dismissal when he heard one. “I’ll get right on it,” he said.

  “You do that.” Carl nodded, his attention already focused on the computer screen to his right.

  Bryan left the office, his expression bland, though inside, he was fuming. This was the part of working for someone else he hated—being called on the carpet and talked to as if he were a stupid child.

  He’d meant it when he’d told Carl he wanted to get ahead. The faster he progressed, the more promotions and raises he got, the more he’d learn and save. Every day would bring him closer to opening his own place.

  He’d always been stubborn, and now he thought his determination would help him get to where he wanted to be. But if this was the price he had to pay to get what he wanted, it was going to be tougher than he’d imagined.

  Chapter Five

  When Angela was stressed or upset, she cooked. Big pans of brownies. Pots of soup. Homemade lasagna or meatballs. After she split with Troy she made a complete roast turkey dinner—in the middle of June.

  Dancing with Bryan didn’t rate a turkey dinner, but homemade meatloaf and mashed potatoes sounded comforting enough to calm her. That wasn’t a meal to be eaten alone, however, so she invited Tanya and her daughter for dinner before rehearsal Tuesday evening.

  “You said this was just a family supper,” Tanya said when Angela led her and Annie into the small front parlor that served as Angela’s dining room. “Nothing formal.” She stared at the table laid with silver and china. Fresh rolls steamed in a napkin-lined basket, green beans glistening with butter and flecked with chopped almonds waited in a serving bowl beside a second bowl mounded with buttery mashed potatoes. The meatloaf, crisply brown with a cap of red sauce, rested on a platter in the center of the table. “My mother doesn’t even get this fancy for Christmas,” Tanya said.

  “It smells great,” Annie said, pulling out a chair on one side of the table.

  “Go ahead and have a seat and I’ll open the wine,” Angela said, taking the bottle Tanya had brought as her contribution to the meal.

  “So, what’s the occasion?” Tanya asked when Angela returned with the wine and a glass of milk for Annie.

  Angela filled their wineglasses, then took her seat at the head of the table. “No special occasion. I just felt like making a nice meal for my favorite director and her daughter.”

  “Your favorite director appreciates it very much.” Tanya took a bite of meatloaf and moaned softly. “This is so good.”

  “You should open a restaurant,” Annie said, happily making patterns in her mashed potatoes with the back of her spoon.

  “Crested Butte has enough restaurants. I’ll stick to chocolates.”

  They ate for a while in silence, Annie devouring almost as much as the women. At last Tanya pushed her plate away with a sigh. “I can’t remember the last time I ate so well,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “Do we have dessert?” Annie asked.

  “There are chocolate cupcakes in the kitchen,” Angela said. “Why don’t you go help yourself to one and take it in the living room. You can watch TV while your mom and I visit.”

  “Okay.” Annie slipped from her chair and raced to the kitchen.

  “She never stops running,” Tanya said.

  “Maybe she’ll be a track star.”

  “She’s already learning to snowboard,” Tanya said. “We’ve been to the slopes a few times and she’s pretty good.”

  “I think you have to learn at that age to be any good.”

  “Hmm.” Tanya sipped her wine. “Speaking of pretty good snowboarders, have you heard from Bryan?”

  “No, I haven’t heard from him.” She would never admit, even to Tanya, how much that bothered her. “Can’t I have one dance with a guy without you trying to make something of it?”

  “I didn’t have to try to make something of it,” Tanya said. “It’s obvious he’s really into you.”

  “Oh, please!” Angela gulped wine to hide her consternation at this assertion. “Bryan’s a nice guy, but he’s not into me.”

  “He is.”

  “You’re imagining things
. I really don’t think I’m his type.”

  “What type would that be?”

  “You know—gorgeous.”

  “Oh, please! Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who is all hung up about your looks.” Tanya set down her glass with at thump and gave Angela a stern look. “I realize we as women are too often judged by our appearance, but have you checked a mirror lately? You are by no stretch of the imagination ugly. And pretending otherwise is just…well, lame.”

  “Spoken like a woman who has been gorgeous and slim her whole life.”

  “So this is a weight thing.”

  Angela’s chair creaked as she shifted position. “What do you mean, a weight thing?”

  “You think Bryan—or some other good-looking guy—couldn’t appreciate you because you’re a little heavier than what society says is the ideal.”

  “I’m fine with how I look,” Angela said. “And I’m sure there are men out there who don’t have a problem with a woman having real curves. I’m simply not sure Bryan is one of them.”

  “Why not?”

  “Come on. You’ve seen the women he dates. Women like Rhiannon—real beauty queens.”

  Tanya dismissed this idea with a wave of her hand. “Most of them were snowboarders. He was drawing from the women he knew.”

  “That’s even worse. He likes athletic women, and I’m not athletic.”

  Tanya leaned across the table. “What has gotten into you? You’re usually so confident. So comfortable in your own skin. Exactly the kind of woman a lot of guys like.”

  Angela tried to straighten her shoulders, to hold her head up and regain some of her old poise, but it had deserted her. “I know I’m supposed to be this strong, modern woman, self-confident and sure of my inner beauty, et cetera, et cetera,” she said. “But it’s not always that easy, you know? Most of the time I can fake it pretty good. Heck, most of the time, I really do feel that way. But then something happens—a cute guy like Bryan asks me out—and all the old insecurities and doubts rear up out of their hiding places and reduce me to…to this.” She drained her wineglass.

  Tanya continued to stare at her. “Bryan asked you out?” she asked after a moment.