Moonlight Kisses Page 16

  “No, on both counts,” he said, his tone growing serious. “It was what you said about your mother.” Cole’s shrug belied how much that part of the dinner conversation had gotten under his skin. “Before Victor and then my younger sisters came along, my mother was also a single parent. My father died in a construction accident a few months after I was born, so I have no memory of him. However, I do remember the struggle and the sacrifices my mom made to start Espresso.”

  It wasn’t something Cole talked about often, if ever, especially after the last angry conversation he’d had with his mother. He’d been young, brash and stupid. If he’d only known it was to be their last conversation, he would have handled things so differently.

  Unfortunately, there was no way to turn back the hands of time, or for the older and wiser man he was now to shake some sense into the hotheaded kid he’d been then.

  Sage rested her head back on his chest, and he smoothed a hand through her hair, which felt like soft puffs of cotton beneath his fingertips.

  “I guess I always thought of you as coming from money, and then being savvy enough to make more of it,” she said. “I didn’t see the struggle.”

  “Mom took the insurance check she got after my father died to start Espresso, so I grew up with it, just me and her. In fact, my earliest memories are of stuffing lipstick and compacts into boxes to help her fill mail orders. I felt like it was our business.”

  It was why one of his mother’s last decisions had cut him to the core. The dull pang he carried around like a piece of luggage surfaced in his chest.

  Again, she lifted her head and faced him. “Then why did you leave Espresso to work for Force?” She asked. “I wondered about it when you mentioned it during that first lunch downtown. Listening to you now has made me even more curious. You and your mom started a cosmetics empire, what on earth would make you walk away from it?”

  Ordinarily, Cole would shut down at this point. Find a way to change the subject or ignore the question altogether. While Sage probably wouldn’t press him for an answer, he found himself wanting to share things with her he didn’t tell anyone else. He wanted her to know it all, the good, the bad, even the ugly.

  “It’s a long story, and some of it’s not very pretty,” he said finally.

  She squirmed against him in the chair and readjusted the throw. “I’m a captive audience,” she said. “Besides, the fact we’re similar in so many ways means I already know so much about you. I want to hear all the things I don’t know.”

  Exhaling, Cole began to explain, starting with the good. “My mom was a lot like us—confident, hardworking, competitive and stubborn as hell.” He smoothed Sage’s hair off her face and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “As a young widow with an infant, she received a lot of advice from well-meaning people who thought she should find a part-time job, put the insurance check from my father’s death in the bank and live off the profits from the construction company my father owned with his brother.”

  “Riley’s dad?” Sage asked.

  “Yes. My late uncle Simon,” Cole said. “He also built the Espresso building. Anyway, my mom obviously didn’t follow their advice. She sold my father’s interest in Sinclair Construction to my uncle, and she used the money from it, along with the insurance check, to start Espresso.”

  Sage craned her neck to look up at him. “Gutsy move. Especially nearly thirty-five years ago when it was more difficult being a woman in business.”

  “Mom said she did it for me. Because I’d lost a father I wouldn’t remember having. She wanted to give me more than just a decent childhood. She wanted to give me a legacy, something that could be passed down from generation to generation.”

  The woman in his arms was quiet. She placed her hand over his, and Cole could feel the warmth and understanding in her touch.

  “She worked hard for it, and she pushed me hard, too. Mom never let up on me, even after she married Victor and my sisters were born. She was constantly grooming me to one day take over Espresso,” Cole said. “I followed her blueprint, working at Espresso part-time through high school and college and, of course, every summer. After graduation, I became one of the company’s two vice presidents, my stepfather was the other one.”

  “Was that a problem for you?” Sage asked.

  “Not initially,” Cole said. “We were responsible for different departments, but we both reported to my mother, who always had the final word. The three of us worked well together. Besides, Victor’s been in my life since I was eight. He’s the one who helped me with my homework as a kid and showed up at my Little League games, even more often than my mom.”

  “What changed the dynamic?” Sage asked.

  Sharing the good had been easier than Cole had expected. He’d genuinely enjoyed working with his parents. Even after he’d bought his town house, he frequently ate dinner at their house where, in spite of Tia and Lola’s protests, they often talked business.

  “New companies came on the scene. They began offering women of color, our core customers, new product lines and trendier colors. Also, mainstream brands like Force began to step up their game in catering to the growing multiethinic market,” Cole explained. “Every time I brought it up with Mom or Victor, along with ideas to keep Espresso competitive, they shut me down. My mom didn’t take it or me seriously. She believed those companies were flashes in the pan that wouldn’t last long and that the best course of action for Espresso was to continue what we were doing. Do what we do and do it well, she’d say.”

  Cole summed up the two years he’d spent warning his parents the business was rapidly changing and imploring with them to make changes. Each time they’d rejected his suggestions and dismissed his concerns. “The more I tried to talk to them about it, the more my mom dug her heels in.”

  “Stubborn.” They said the word simultaneously, knowing the same could be said of them.

  “Then she got sick and, despite the treatments, we all knew she wouldn’t get better.” Cole told her in as few words as possible about his mother’s breast cancer battle and felt Sage hold his hand a bit tighter.

  It reinforced his decision to confide in her. Cole exhaled a shaky breath. “When she was advised to get her affairs in order, she met with her lawyers at her bedside.”

  Time hadn’t faded the smell of prolonged sickness and impending death that came back to him when he thought about his mother’s final days. It was then that the memory of the cancer-ravaged version of her overshadowed the vibrant, demanding, beautiful force to be reckoned with that Selina Sinclair Gray had been the majority of her life.

  “Afterward she informed me Victor was the new president of Espresso. She said my ideas were too radical, and at twenty-six, I was simply too young to leave in charge of the company I’d always believed we’d built together.”

  Sage kept a firm grip on his hand. He wasn’t proud of how he’d reacted to his mother’s decision. Unfortunately, life didn’t offer do overs.

  “We were both hotheads. I said some harsh things out of anger. So did she,” he said. “She told me to get out of her sight, to which I replied, ‘Gladly, I don’t want to look at you right now, either.’”

  Cole sighed. He’d never before shared his last conversation with his mother with anyone. The most he’d said to his family was that they’d had words.

  “I had driven halfway back to my place—then I turned the car around to go back and apologize, but it was too late. She was dead.”

  The toughest part of the story already told, Cole pushed through to the end. “After she died, Victor and I continued to butt heads at work over the same issues. Only he was even more resistant to making changes and had the final say,” he said. “I didn’t want to continue arguing with the only parent I had left, so I handed in my resignation and left both Espresso and Nashville. A few months later, I went to work at Force.”

&
nbsp; Cole was relieved when Sage didn’t offer up meaningless platitudes, which only tended to make the person saying them feel better. Nor did she try telling him that despite their horrible argument, his mother loved him. He already knew she did.

  Instead, Sage released his hand and then she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tighter than he’d ever been hugged in his life.

  “It’s why you try to think first instead of acting out of anger, isn’t it?” she asked.

  Cole nodded. “It was a lesson I learned the hard way,” he said. “If I could do it all again, instead of lashing out I would have simply told my mother how much her decision hurt. I’d ask her why, after years of making Espresso my number one priority, she didn’t have enough faith in me to know I would do whatever was best for our company. The bottom line is, in the end, she didn’t trust me.”

  “Yet, you’re back at Espresso now, trying to stage its comeback,” Sage said.

  Cole nodded. Despite, his bank balance and business experience, he still was a man with something to prove, if only to himself. “That angry exchange with my mother is a weight I’ll carry with me forever,” he said. “But knowing I put the company she poured her entire life into back on top will help ease the burden.”

  Tears brimmed in Sage’s eyes when she met his gaze. “The woman in me who loves you wants to do everything in her power to help you achieve that goal.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “But to my business side, we’re still competitors.”

  Cole swiped away one of the tears with the pad of his thumb before it could roll down her cheek.

  “I didn’t tell you all this to further complicate things between us. But when you told us about your mother at dinner, it helped me understand why Stiletto is more than a company to you,” he said. “The more important you became to me, the more I needed you to know why I have to save Espresso.”

  “I do understand.” She snuggled back into him. “I also think Nashville just might be big enough for two cosmetic companies.”

  Cole shifted in the chair, so he could see her face. “Does this mean our temporary cease-fire is permanent?”

  “I’m ready to wave the white flag if you agree.” She laughed.

  “Agreed.” Cole extended his hand, and she shook it.

  Sage resumed her position, resting her head on his chest. “Great. Now that we’ve brokered the peace, I can finally stop worrying what you have up your sleeve and get a good night’s sleep.”

  “Oh, you’ll have a good night.” He caressed her bare bottom with his hand. “But I doubt you’ll get much sleep.”

  * * *

  Sage rose, hands clapping enthusiastically with the rest of the audience as the cast of Aida took their final bows to thunderous applause.

  The house lights came up, and the throng of opera patrons slowly began to exit the lavish auditorium of the Teatro alla Scala opera house. Exuberant conversations in several languages broke out all around her. She didn’t have to understand what they were saying to know they were all buzzing about the performance they’d obviously enjoyed as much as she had.

  “I’m not sure what was more beautiful, those powerful voices or this place.” Sage soaked in the gilded wood and red velvet interior of the world-renowned venue.

  She felt Cole’s hand at the small of her back as they walked through the majestic mirror-lined foyer and out into the night. Even through the layers of her coat and dress, the gesture sent a warm shiver down her spine. Moreover, it made a woman who’d always taken care of herself feel protected, cherished and very much loved.

  “Neither. You are the most beautiful thing about this entire evening,” Cole said.

  Sage snorted to hide her delight at the compliment. “You don’t have to sweet-talk me,” she said. “You’re definitely getting lucky tonight.”

  “Already?” Cole joked. “Technically this is only our first date.”

  Sage linked her arm through his as they continued the short walk back to his place. “When it comes to you, I’m easy.”

  “And I meant what I said—you look stunning tonight. When I saw you in that dress, my eyes nearly popped out of my head.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  After taking in a view of the city from the rooftop of the Duomo cathedral and viewing Leonardo da Vinci’s masterpiece The Last Supper at the Santa Maria delle Grazie church that morning, they’d spent the afternoon in the upscale shopping area know as the Quadrilatero d’Oro, home to the country’s top designer logos.

  “There nothing I love more than seeing you in a sexy red dress,” Cole said. “What I didn’t like was your adamantly refusing to let me buy it for you.”

  Sage grunted in response. Just as she had when he’d attempted to pull out his credit card at the counter of the chic designer store.

  “I can pay for my own clothes.” The dress had indeed been pricey, but it had been her one and only splurge.

  “That’s not the point.”

  The wide city streets narrowed into side streets as they got closer to Cole’s condo. Sage’s heels clicked against the cobblestones. They’d already discussed it, and she refused to rise to his bait.

  “You wouldn’t let me buy you anything,” He continued to rant. “Not the other dresses or the shoes and boots you were practically drooling over. I could see in your eyes that you wanted all of them.”

  “It’s called window shopping, Cole,” Sage said, patiently.

  “What good is having money if you can’t spend it on the people you care about?” he countered.

  Sage halted midstep, a few feet from the entrance to his building. She extricated her arm from his. He stopped walking and faced her. Their gazes locked. “I don’t want anything from you...but you,” she said.

  Cole pushed out a defeated sigh. “Stubborn.”

  “Right back at ya.” Sage looped her arm back through his, and they resumed walking.

  “Life with you is never going to be easy, is it?” Humor permeated his deep voice.

  “Nothing worth having ever is.”

  Later that night, after they’d given both Cole’s bed and their favorite chair a long, hard workout, Sage stood at the window wearing one of his T-shirts, staring out at the city. She’d arrived here excited to attend her first international runway show. Now it was a forgettable footnote.

  She felt Cole’s arms encircle her as he came up from behind. The shadow of beard clinging to his jaw tickled her neck as he bestowed it with a series of kisses.

  “I was thinking we could spend the next few days at Lake Como,” he said. “I sold my villa there when I left my job at Force, but we can stay...”

  Sage stopped him. “I leave for home tomorrow evening.”

  “Can’t your staff hold down the fort at Stiletto for another day or two?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not work. I have a previous engagement.”

  Cole raised a brow. “Then cancel or reschedule it.”

  “I can’t,” she said. “It’s with another man.”

  Chapter 17

  “You might have mentioned earlier that this other man of yours was six years old.”

  Cole looked on as Sage wrapped an old-fashioned candy dispenser reminiscent of a grocery-store gumball machine in festive birthday paper.

  “Then I might not have had the pleasure of your company on the trip back to Nashville,” she said.

  When Sage said she had a previous engagement with another man back in Milan, Cole had done two things. First, he’d taken her back to bed and made love to her until the only man’s name falling from her lips was his, over and over again. Next he’d booked the seats next to hers on her flights to Nashville.

  They’d arrived late yesterday evening and spent the night at his town house sleeping off jet lag. This morning, they’d c
elebrated their return to the dirty South with breakfast at the Waffle House, and now they were at Sage’s house, preparing to head to her neighbor’s birthday party.

  Cole slapped a red bow on top of the toy truck he’d wrapped for her. “You know, that lipstick you’re wearing today suits you perfectly.” He’d recognized it the moment she’d smoothed the bold red shade over her lips. “You are a badass.”

  She topped the wrapped candy dispenser with a huge blue bow and then rounded her kitchen table to plant a lingering kiss on his mouth. “I warned you back in Milan—I’m naughty to the bone.”

  At the word bone, Cole leaned over and whispered an equally naughty joke in her ear.

  Pursing her lips into a prudish frown, Sage smacked at the arm he’d wrapped around her waist. Cole caught the mischievous spark in her eyes, just before she winked. “Later.” She laughed. “We’ve got a party to attend.”

  A short while later, Cole came face-to-face with Sage’s other man. Wearing a red sweatshirt emblazoned with the words It’s My Birthday, the little boy dashed toward them the moment he spotted Sage at his front door.

  “Whatcha bring me?” He blurted out in lieu of a greeting.

  “Kenny!” A harried redhead admonished the kid. “Manners!”

  “Whatcha bring me, please?” The kid added a snaggletoothed grin to his second attempt, and Cole stifled a laugh.

  Shaking her head at the little boy, the woman ushered them inside her house, and Sage quickly introduced them.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Sinclair.” Evie put a restraining arm around her kid to keep him from snatching the gifts from their hands. “And this etiquette-school dropout is my son, Kenny.”

  “Cole,” he corrected. Then he addressed the woman’s son. “Happy Birthday, Kenny.”

  “Well, Cole, like I told Sage earlier when she said you didn’t mind lending us a hand, it’s much appreciated. I’ve got two-dozen kindergarteners and ten pizzas descending on this house in two hours and definitely need reinforcements.”