Brent eyed him suspiciously. “Sure, you know the way, but hurry back after you check on your gal. We’ll be waiting.”
Tony stared at his friend for a moment. His gal? Not even close. “Companion.” That was the description he’d decided upon. “Whatever.” He shrugged. “I like cheese dip.”
With that, he set his beer on the nearest table and walked up the stairs. As he rounded the hallway toward the kitchen, the sound of voices stilled his progress. From his vantage, he could only hear the women. All at once, MaryAnn’s voice prevailed as she went on at some length about one of Eli’s clients—some movie star who apparently had a body to die for. Tony waited and listened as other voices added their opinions. With each passing comment that wasn’t Claire’s, Tony thought more and more about her restraint. He wasn’t sure that the woman he acquired in Atlanta would have remained quiet for so long. The longer her voice remained absent, the more his newfound pride gave way to a growing wave of panic. What if she wasn’t speaking because she wasn’t there? What if she’d found a way to leave—a way of escape? Would she do that?
Determinedly, he turned the corner, hoping for visual confirmation of her presence. Though she was sitting facing out to the backyard, he immediately saw her profile. Nestled in the corner of the wicker loveseat, she was tracing the rim of her wine glass with her finger and listening as everyone discussed the sexy movie star. As he watched, she kept her eyes focused on the women and attentively followed the conversation. For a split second he thought of the woman he met at the Red Wing. The two Claires seemed worlds apart. It wasn’t just appearance, although this Claire was toner, tanner, and blonder—all qualities he appreciated. The streaks of yellow that highlighted her hair were probably his favorite change; that’s why he’d offered to take her to Chicago. The sun would soon lose its intensity, and that blonde would need help. This Claire was also more refined and genteel: she didn’t burst into conversations or talk excessively. Well, she did talk more when they were alone, but the woman on the sunporch knew her role. Just as he was about to step further into the kitchen, he heard her name.
“So, Claire, what’s your opinion? He’s pretty hot, isn’t he?” There was something about Bonnie’s voice that grated on Tony’s nerves. He wished that Eli and MaryAnn could have made the trip without these tagalongs.
Tony saw Claire’s smile; it wasn’t as genuine as the one she flashed him earlier in the car, but that didn’t detract from its beauty. She had no idea he was watching or listening as she answered, “Oh, yes, he’s hot! But I haven’t seen the movie.” Looking toward MaryAnn, she apologized: “I’m sorry. I’m just not much of a moviegoer.”
Tony knew that was true now, but when he’d watched her in Atlanta, she used to go to the movies frequently with her friends. He remembered taking her to a movie—their private viewing—about a month ago. He quickly pushed the memory away. It wasn’t as pleasant as it had once been.
“Is Tony?” Bonnie pried. “Is he a moviegoer? What do you two like to do?”
Before Claire could answer, Sue chimed in. “Well, let me tell you—I saw the movie last week. It isn’t Tim’s kind of movie, so I went with a friend …”
Tony quit listening as an arm brushed his waist. Turning, he saw Courtney as she leaned toward him and whispered, “So, where did you find her?”
“What?”
Courtney stood back and looked him straight in the eye. “She’s not your type,” her serious expression turned joyous, “and that’s a good thing. I like her a lot.”
“You do? And what do you mean—my type? I didn’t know I had a type.”
“Well, you do, and most of them wouldn’t be caught dead sitting on my sunporch chatting. Claire’s sweet. I’ll admit, when Brent told me that you took her to New York for business, I was skeptical.” She put her hand on his. “I mean, you know we care about you. It’s just that, well, some of the women you’ve dated—”
Tony interrupted, “So, you’re now telling me that you don’t approve of my choices?” Though his words could be considered accusatory, his tone was soft and playful.
“Well, it probably isn’t my place, but someone has to keep you in line.” Her smile twinkled in her blue eyes. “Claire’s young, but I think she might be a keeper. I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“Like what?”
“Look at you. You’re up here checking on her. What’s the matter, are you afraid she’s gonna learn some of your dark secrets and bolt?” Courtney leaned closer. “Don’t worry, she’s safe with us.”
“I wasn’t checking on her. I-I was getting something to eat.” As soon as the words rolled off his tongue, he realized the food had all been put away.
“Oh, my mistake.” Her grin clearly displayed her disbelief of his cover story. “I guess it was your swooning and eavesdropping that had me confused.”
Courtney didn’t know how wrong she was, or perhaps why she was wrong. Tony was checking on her—her presence and her behavior. After all, it was the first time he’d allowed her this much freedom with anyone other than his house staff, and it was more than a bit disconcerting. Even when they were out at fundraisers, or she was shopping, she was never with anyone long enough to discuss her situation. He sure as hell didn’t want her discussing it now. He shifted his glance back to Courtney who’d quickly moved to the refrigerator. As she opened the large door, she asked, “Now, what was it that you wanted to eat?”