Natalie J. Damschroder
Black Tie Inc.
This is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents are products of the author's imagination or are
used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,
organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Echelon Press
9735 Country
Copyright © 2004 by
Natalie J. Damschroder
ISBN: 1-59080-311-6
www.echelonpress.com
All rights
reserved. No part of this book may be
used or reproduced in any m
First Echelon Press
electronic printing: September 2004
Cover Art ©
Nathalie Moore
Model: Brooks
Johnson
Editor: Terri
Wright
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logos are trademarks of Echelon Press.
Printed in
Praise for Natalie J. Damschroder
"Natalie Damschroder give this short story a
double dose of fantasy with the magic of
–Megan Hart, author of Dream Upon Waking
"Natalie J. Damschroder has written a
beautiful, moving story of love at its purest. In To Heal the Soul,
I felt chills of sweet wonder as I was left with a vague sense of having been
touched by an angel, of wondering if I would ever encounter Logan McKnight as
he moves on and restores hope in the lives of those he encounters."
–Titania Ladley, Women on Writing
"A romance with heart, Second Chance at
Forever is a unique story that deserves a second glance. Pick
this one up and I can guarantee you won't be able to put it down for a long
time."
–Julie Shininger, Escape to Romance
"Ms. Damschroder has created a balanced plot
showcasing the relationship between two people struggling not only to live
again, but to love again. I recommend this book as
enjoyable and touching."
–Jonni Rich, Ivy Quill Reviews
"Natalie Damschroder brings an evocative tale
to life in Second Chance at Forever. Written
with her characteristically poetic style, Second Chance at Forever
weaves a beautiful tale of healing and romance. ... As
these wounded souls travel the path to healing, their challenges, struggles and
self-discoveries make for a memorable tale. Highly recommended."
–Cindy Penn, WordWeaving
Dear Readers,
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We
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Dedication
For Sergio, the inspiration...
and Jim, who makes Sergio unnecessary.
And for Lisa Mondello and Cathy McDavid,
who always help keep me on track.
Better friends don't exist.
After months of tolerance,
acceptance, and even rationalization, one small birthday present killed a
relationship.
Veronica Bailey picked up
the little black box in two fingers and narrowed her eyes at Colin Frederick,
her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend.
"It's a pager," he
said, taking the device and fiddling with the buttons. "See, this shows who's paging you, and
here's where a little message, like call me, would be, and-"
"Colin." Her sharpness instantly quieted his
enthusiasm. She began gathering the torn
paper and balling it. "Why did
you give me a pager?"
"It's your
birthday."
Yeah, three weeks ago. To be honest, Veronica had to admit she
hadn't noticed his lack of a birthday gift.
It was glaringly obvious now, however.
She stuffed the red-and-white wrapping paper into her brass trashcan and
paused to assess the man she'd been involved with for the past year. He looked as he always did, his gold-blond
hair smoothly curving over his forehead, his wire-framed glasses polished to a
high gleam. His custom suit hung with
nary a wrinkle as he perched on the edge of her desk. He was perfectly suited to be her partner.
Too bad she didn't want him.
"Why do you think I
need a beeper?" she asked, struggling to keep her patience.
He shrugged one shoulder and
managed to appear endearingly confused by her agitation. "So I can reach you when you're not near
a phone?"
"I thought
so." She shook her head as she
tossed the pager into the gift box, topped it a bit harder than necessary, and
thrust it at him. "No thanks. I don't think you'll be
needing to get in touch with me."
He took the box
automatically and slid off the desk.
"What–what do you mean?"
Veronica mentally backed up
a step. The pager had been the final
straw on an overburdened hump, but she'd only now decided the load wasn't worth
carrying. She'd hoped their problems
would work themselves out, which was not an attitude she usually took. Now she must explain, without hurting his
feelings too much, that he drove her crazy and she never wanted to see him
again.
She sat in her leather chair
and crossed her legs, motioning for Colin to sit as well. "I'm sorry, but it's just not working
out between us."
"You've got to be
kidding me." Confusion was replaced by cockiness.
"Are you telling me last night didn't work out?"
Veronica almost laughed at
the memory of Colin's acrobatic behavior the night before. It had been ridiculous, but he'd been so proud
of his imagination that she'd faked it.
She'd faked more in this relationship than she'd faked in her entire
life. No wonder she wasn't happy with
him.
"I'm sorry, but there
has to be more than sex. We're just not
very compatible."
"But we're both VPs!" He made it sound like their jobs alone made
them compatible. When Veronica had first
started dating him, their mutual goals had been the main attraction. As time passed, she began to suspect Colin
wanted to keep tabs on her, make sure she didn't rise higher than he did in the
subtle politics of the banking industry.
Her goal had always been bank presidency and he was the right kind of
partner to help her reach it. Now, though,
she was discovering deep-seated needs neither her career nor Colin Frederick
could fulfill.
"I'm sorry. I'm just not ready to give you the level of
commitment you're looking for."
Hoping that was an easy enough letdown, she rose to usher him out. "I hope you won't let this affect our
working relationship." She smiled
and moved to close the door behind him, but he sidestepped her and circled back
into the office.
"It's been almost a
year. You want to just toss that
away?"
"I'm not tossing
it." She raised her hands, then let them drop to her sides. He was right.
He deserved more than a brush-off.
"What do you want out of our relationship?"
He seemed to be thinking
about it, forming his words. "I was
hoping we'd move in together soon. See
how that goes for a while."
She snorted. "Yeah, Perkins would love
that." Their boss had deemed
himself Captain of the Morals Police at First Pennsylvania Bank of
Again, he paused, and she
wondered what his real agenda was.
"Because we make a great couple, everyone says so…your family, my
family, our friends.
We complement each other here, and we could do the same at home."
"Do you love me?"
He looked puzzled. "What does that have to do with
anything?"
She took a deep breath and
stepped forward. "I can't live with
someone who doesn't love me. I need more
than superficial compatibility."
His square jaw firmed. "Do you love me?"
She shook her head. "No."
He deflated. "I guess that's it, then." He stepped toward the door. "I've got to get back to work."
Veronica stared after him as
he closed the door quietly. He'd given
up, just like that? After a year? She knew well Colin's insecurities and his
ambition. She wouldn't be surprised to
learn their relationship had been part of his long-term plan, much as it had
been part of hers. If it was, she'd just
put a major crimp in both. But she could re-evaluate her future and design a new
plan. Colin, she feared, had a
significant capacity for revenge. She
could still be part of his plan.
"God." She heaved a sigh and went back to her chair,
deciding not to delve any deeper into wild speculation. After surveying the folders on her desk to
decide which pile of bank business demanded more attention, she sat and flipped
the cover on a proof of their latest ad, which focused on First Pennsylvania's
superior customer service. As Vice
President of Consumer Affairs, she had responsibility for the bank's
advertising. This ad was supposed to go
to print tomorrow.
She couldn't concentrate on
the words or the photo. The
confrontation disturbed her. She hadn't
expected that. The breakup had been
coming for a long time now. He was
getting possessive, calling her every night they were apart, grilling her on
what she'd done with her friends, even showing up at a movie theater she'd gone
to with her sister. His attempt to check
up on her was pitiful and she'd almost decided to break it off then.
She spun her chair around to
gaze out the window at the green lawn and shaded street. She should have ended it, but inertia was a
powerful thing, and it was easier not to.
Until now. She thought of the
pager and her blood heated again. He
wanted only to keep her in constant contact.
That wasn't love, or even intense like.
It was a power play. He hated
that she enjoyed the same status he did, that she had, in fact, been a vice
president longer, and was searching for any way to keep her below him.
She'd be damned if she'd let
him. Not only was she the youngest vice
president First Penn ever had, she was the first
female. She'd earned her status, and no
jealous colleague was going to hold her back.
Not when her goal was to be the youngest president the bank had
ever had.
She frowned. For the first time, the image didn't inspire
and excite her. It made her
restless. She swiveled back to the desk
and tilted her chair, trying to sort out the emotions seething within her.
Ambition had always dictated her decisions, each step necessary for reaching her goal of bank president. Her choices of escorts had been like Colin. They fit the image of the man she thought a bank president should date, but image was all they'd fulfilled. None had touched her inside, where she was real. None had come close to developing the kind of Grand Passion her parents claimed. Whatever she was truly looking for, she hadn't found it. Not at college, not at First Penn, and certainly not at her parents' country club. She wasn't sure it existed outside her imagination.
Maybe it was time she
stopped looking.
Her watch beeped to alert
her to the executive meeting. She
gathered her notes and slipped down the hall to the conference room. As she reached the door, Colin rounded the
corner to the adjacent corridor and almost bumped into her. For a moment, hatred flashed in his eyes.
"Excuse me," she
murmured before preceding him into the room.
While part of her was disconcerted by the
intensity of his emotion, training and experience took over. A woman in power in a man's world didn't give
ground, not even at the doorway.
She settled into a chair as
far down the table from Colin as possible.
Her mind wandered during the usual boring announcements and discussions
until the word "promotion" caught her attention. She focused on the head of the table where
the bank president, Jamison Perkins, spoke.
"And so, Joe will be
retiring at the end of the year. Which means we will need a new senior vice president." He beamed alternately at Veronica and
Colin. Veronica's heart sank and leaped
at the same time.
"Of course, a decision
of this magnitude will take some consideration.
The announcement will be made at the end of November." He went on to the next topic of business, and
Veronica fought her body's urge to slump into her chair.
Her path was
laid out before her. Promotion to
senior vice president before a short hop to president of First Pennsylvania
Bank of
"Nicholas Trent, is
it?"
The clerk's voice matched
the perky eyebrows that queried him over a file folder. Nick nodded impatiently and slouched deeper
into the chair. How long could it take
to open a stupid CD? He'd been a
customer of this bank for almost five years.
He already had three CDs and an IRA in addition to his regular checking
and savings accounts, but this little bluebird seemed determined to drag it out
like he was a new, suspicious customer.
"I'll just take a few
moments to fill out this form, using your previous information. Then you can sign the application," she
pointed at the appropriate lines, "and we'll process the transfer. After that, you can sign the transfer form
and be on your way."
Nick checked his watch and
shifted his weight in the plush chair.
"Look, can't I just sign the form and you can fill it out
later?"
The young woman
frowned. "Oh, no, that wouldn't be
proper. You must verify the information
before signing. What if you've moved
since your last CD application?"
"I haven't–" Nick sighed as
she stared at him, patient but determined.
It was pointless. "Go
ahead. I'll just sit here and
wait."
"Thank you. It will just be a moment."
He folded his hands over his
stomach, trying to find some comfort for his six-three frame in the short
chair. He watched Susie Service type for
a minute, but every hunt-and-peck keystroke drove his blood pressure
higher. He ground his teeth and looked
around the room.
It was a typical bank
lobby. Subdued, with dark colors and
recessed lighting. Half a dozen
customers waited in line, and as many bank employees wandered about, but the
high ceilings and carefully chosen furnishings absorbed the sound. The overall effect was soothing. At least, it should be. It only made Nick want
to get up and leave.
He shifted in the chair
again. This restlessness wasn't
new. Patience was a foreign word to him
lately, with bank service, traffic, his career, his other career–and his women. His last date had almost put him to sleep;
the one before that evoked brotherly feelings.
He hadn't had sex in over a year.
Over a year.
The words echoed in his head. The implication behind them was louder. He hadn't found any woman attractive enough to take to bed in twelve months. Not colleagues, not bar-hoppers–not even the divorcée his boss had introduced him to last month, and she was hot. There was only one explanation.
He wanted more.
But what? Hard to believe no woman he'd met in a year
had the qualities he was looking for. He
guessed each had some. A sense of humor,
intelligence, passion. Nothing more or
less than any other man wanted, but he wanted them in a certain
combination. A unique combination,
packaged with elegance and class.
He looked at his torn jeans
and ancient T-shirt and snorted. A woman
with elegance and class would have nothing to do with him. Especially if she found out what he did for a
living.
A door opened to his right
and Nick glanced that way. His attention
focused on the woman who strode out of an office and behind the teller
booths. Tall, she carried herself with
the confidence of someone who had earned it.
Her honey-blond hair swept below her shoulders, something rarely seen on
a professional woman. So many thought
they had to yank all their hair back to be taken seriously. Those who left it down usually did so to call
attention to their femininity, to use it.
In this woman, it just was.
As Nick watched, she leaned
over to read the computer screen of one teller.
Her pink-frosted lips moved, and the teller nodded and smiled. The woman leaned back and swept her gaze over
the bank, as if surveying her domain.
She obviously held an important position at First Penn.
Her gaze flicked across
Nicholas, not pausing, but she seemed to find something amiss behind him. Her smooth, lightly t
"Sir? Sir?"
Nick realized Susie Service
was hailing him, and he leaned forward to sign at the appropriate places.
"Hey, Susie, that woman who walked by?" He tilted his head in the direction she'd gone. "Who is she? She seems important."
Fear flashed in Susie's eyes
before she averted her gaze.
"That's Veronica Bailey, Vice President of Consumer Affairs."
"She's your
supervisor?"
"Y-yes. Did you have a complaint, Mr. Trent?"
The sudden firming of the
girl's voice drew Nick's attention back to her.
She had drawn herself up and was looking him in the eye, ready to
address whatever affront he'd taken. He
smiled. "No, Susie, you've done a
fine job. Can we do that transfer
now?"
"Yes, sir. One moment."
She rushed to an available
teller. Nick turned again to watch the
woman, who now spoke to an older man in a double-breasted suit. Veronica Bailey. Vice President of Consumer Affairs. He liked that. The title conveyed intelligence, drive,
respect, and the confidence she emanated.
This was a woman he'd like to meet, but how? He couldn't walk up to her in her place of
business and invite her to dinner. He
needed an excuse.
Susie Service could provide
one. She'd given him the perfect opening
by asking if he had a complaint. Problem
was, he didn't.
Sure, she'd been slow, but he no longer minded. If she'd been a bit More
efficient he'd have missed Veronica Bailey.
He was smiling as he walked
out of the bank, tucking his account papers into the back pocket of his
jeans. Just last week his mother had
asked him what on earth he was looking for.
He hadn't been able to answer her.
He could now.
Veronica rubbed her forehead
at the end of a long week, trying to ease the wrinkles setting in from her
constant frown. The pen she held jabbed
her temple and she cursed, licking her finger and rubbing at the spot to remove
the ink. Her eyes never left the page in
front of her.
It was a formal complaint
against one of her tellers. It was the
second one in a month, and Jennie was going to be very upset. She tried hard and had a talent for making
the customers feel at home. She always
greeted them by name, and asked after their children or job or aches and
pains. Everything a customer could want
in a small town bank. No, customer
service wasn't her problem. It was more
serious than that.
Veronica picked up the phone
and dialed the front extension. Jennie
answered.
"Jennie, can I see you
in my office, please?"
"Sure thing."
A minute later a knock
sounded on the half-open door. Veronica
waved Jennie in, and the girl sat in the chair she indicated. Veronica braced herself against the sweet
smile and perfect grooming, and forced the words out.
"Jennie, we have a
problem."
The young blonde's face
crumpled and she inhaled, blinking hard to fight her tears. "It's Mr. Jankowitz, isn't it? I knew he'd file a complaint. Oh, Ms. Bailey, I'm so sorry."
"Jennie, please stop
crying." As much as she wanted to,
Veronica did not soothe the girl with useless it's all rights. It wasn't all right. What good was a teller who couldn't count
money?
"I fixed it, I really
did. I realized as soon as I cashed the
next customer's check, because I had too many fifties. I was supposed to have–"
"I know what
happened." Veronica kept her voice
gentle but resolute. "We're not
here to rehash the problem. We're here
to solve it."
Jennie sat up straighter and
wiped her index finger under one eye.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Now, you know the
policy is probation after three complaints.
If another complaint is filed before the
probationary period is up, your position will be terminated. Do you understand this policy?"
Tears welled up in Jennie's
eyes again as she nodded. Veronica felt
helpless to find a solution in this case.
Always before she'd found an alternative to termination, but this was
harder. This was the third time Jennie
had given a customer substantially less cash than they'd requested. The first time the customer had noted it
right away and pointed it out.
Flustered, Jennie had been unable to calculate the difference, and the
situation had deteriorated. Veronica had been called to placate the frustrated customer.
The second time, an elderly gentleman depositing his Social Security check noticed when
he got home that his bank deposit slip showed an amount two hundred dollars
lower than his handwritten slip. That
had taken some time to fix, and Veronica had spent an entire afternoon
retraining Jennie. This third complaint could not be chalked up to inexperience. Jennie just seemed to have a problem with
figures. That was disastrous in a bank.
Veronica waited until Jennie
had herself under control. "I've
changed your schedule this week. I'd
like you to help Sadie with filing. She's backlogged, and it will give you a chance to
recover. I'm afraid you'll be tense and
make more mistakes, and I don't want that to happen. Is this okay with you?"
Jennie nodded, her gaze now
missing Veronica's by a few inches.
Veronica smiled gently. "Why don't you go home early today? I think you could use a mental health
hour."
Jennie smiled and whispered
a watery thank you before leaving, closing the door behind her.
"Damn." Veronica curved her shoulders, trying to ease
the tightness in her upper back. Usually
she relocated an employee to another department if they didn't work out in the
first one. She'd even moved a drive-thru
teller to the maintenance staff when he began nodding off during slow periods. Forced into exerting himself, Jason was now
an assistant manager in the maintenance department, and ever grateful to
Veronica for not firing him. She had never
fired an employee.
But there was no room anywhere
for Jennie. Sadie's filing would last a
week. Veronica had to find an
alternative before then. She flipped
open her address book and prepared to call in a favor.
As she reached for the phone, it rang two short rings, signaling a call from one of the customer service representatives.
"Bailey," she
answered.
"Veronica, it's Melissa. I have
a customer here asking to speak to my supervisor."
She frowned, knowing Melissa
couldn't explain why with the customer in front of her. "Are they scene-making angry?"
"I don't think
so."
"I'll be right
there."
As she walked across the
lobby to Melissa's desk, she assessed the situation. The man standing in front of the customer
chairs looked familiar. She thought
she'd seen him in here once or twice in the last week. His worn jeans, T-shirt, and leather jacket,
together with longish brown hair and scuffed boots, gave him the appearance of
a troublemaker. Veronica did not condone
trouble in her bank.
"Is there a
problem?" She kept her voice low as
she met his eyes. The electricity in
them shocked her, as if it was real.
Disconcerted, she turned to Melissa.
The woman shook her
head. "I'm not aware of one."
"Mr…?" Veronica turned back to the customer,
avoiding his gaze this time but focusing instead on his mouth. It was firm, bracketed by laugh lines. She knew they were laugh lines and not frown
lines because he was smiling at her. Her
pulse jumped.
"
"Mr. Trent? Did you find our service
unsatisfactory?"
"Not at all." He smiled, and again Veronica had to steel
herself against her body's involuntary reaction. This time, it was nothing as subtle as a bolt
of electricity. This time, her heart
rolled. No, a tiny voice
protested. This is a really bad time for this.
"As a matter of fact," Nicholas Trent continued, "service today has been exemplary. I wanted Melissa's supervisor to be aware of what a superb job she's doing."
Veronica let her polite
smile grow, showing her delight.
"Well. That's
wonderful. I'm always thrilled to hear
positive remarks from our clients."
She took a step toward her office.
"Would you be willing to fill out a short questionnaire for
Melissa's file?"
"Sure."
"Right this
way." Veronica winked at Melissa as
she led Nick to her office. She left the
door open and crossed the navy carpet to a file cabinet. "I've seen you here several times, Mr. Trent. Are you satisfied with our general
service?" She dug into a file,
searching for the comment cards. She
found one and pulled it out, straightening just in time to catch him eyeing her
legs. Instead of affront or resignation,
her usual response, she felt a little thrill of pleasure. She barely suppressed a shiver and moved
behind her desk to hide her odd reaction to this man.
"Yes."
She took several seconds to
remember her question. "Oh. Good."
The card. She almost threw
it across the desk in her discomposure.
"Well, this card only takes a moment to fill out. The representative's name is Melissa
Easter. You can leave your name and
number if you wish."
He bent his head to the
task, and Veronica tried to tell herself to look busy. Instead, she sat and stared. At the long hand, t
What are you doing, Ronnie? She tried to pull herself out of her
trance. He's a customer, and not your
type. Not at all polished, like Colin.
That was it. He was Colin's opposite, which appealed to her so soon after dumping him. It was natural for her to be a bit lonely, especially after Colin's clinging. But Nicholas Trent was all wrong, even for a rebound fling. Not to mention his status as a customer. And her very precarious future. She resolved to fight this attraction, even as weakness seeped into her muscles.
As soon as he'd scribbled
his name, she got to her feet and held out her hand. "Thank you again, Mr. Trent. I hope you continue to be
satisfied." He shook her hand,
holding it just a bit longer than necessary, staring at her with a quizzical
look, as if in debate with himself. Heat
slid up her arm from the point of contact, making her wonder if pressing
against him would make the rest of her body hot.
She fought the urge to jerk
her hand away. It would be
impolite. "Is there something
else?"
Nick tried to force his
brain to work. It had abandoned him
sometime after their skin met, leaving him no control over that hand or his
tongue or any other part of his body. It
just sat in his skull and laughed.
Say something. He'd spent almost two weeks planning this
move, trying to force a teller or customer service rep into extraordinary
service. Good or bad, it didn't
matter. He'd simply watched Veronica
Bailey travel her domain, wearing those curvy suits like some soft version of
battle armor. Her skirts, while decent,
always showed an incredible length of leg, and the variety of colors she wore
brightened the dark interior of the bank.
Far from window dressing, she was more the centerpiece of a very elegant
table.
"Thank you, Ms.
Bailey." His brain sulked back into
action. He released her hand, and full
control resumed. "I do have one
question before I go. It's not bank
related." She nodded,
her slate eyes clearly curious.
"Would you have dinner with me sometime?"
Lame,
"I'm sorry, Mr. Trent. I'm not allowed to date customers. Thank you, anyway." She ushered him to the door of her office, and he shrugged.
"Oh, well. I guess I'll have to change banks, after
all." He grinned, pleased at the
flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. She
laughed it off, however, apparently preferring to take it as teasing.
"We'd be sorry to lose
you, Mr. Trent, but thank you again for filling out the comment card."
"You're welcome." Nick smiled and headed toward the main exit. The back of his neck prickled, and he relaxed. As bad as his performance was, it hadn't been a waste of time. He felt her watching him all the way across the bank.