Written in the Stars Read online

  Drawing comfort from nature’s orchid, Will convinced himself that the words he’d carefully crafted in writing would express what he so wished to say, that Liz would grant him his heart's greatest desire, and he imagined with joy how he would ensure that she never regretted choosing him when the elevator chimed.

  The doors opened and a bouquet of balloons large enough to fill his office burst out of the elevator. Someone must be celebrating a milestone. Several read "Congratulations" in bold letters Will could have seen even without his glasses.

  Will rose to help whoever held the floating party. Thankfully, the waiting room was empty.

  "Will!" proclaimed a sultry voice that made his heart leap.

  Liz held the strings up, sending the balloons to float above her and nudging the few that lingered out of her way.

  He stood with his hand extended to her, too surprised to move.

  She started toward him, her lips curling up and her velvety eyelashes lowering when she saw him. The first time she’d looked at him like that, his heart had nearly stopped. The effect hadn’t lessened with time.

  True to the Starlight Terrace’s reputation for fine service, a waiter did what Will should have done, reaching out to pull the balloons out of their way.

  Liz took Will’s open arms as an invitation. She snuggled in, her almond-scented hair tickling his nose as he breathed in her scent.

  She kissed him on the cheek with her full red lips, then laughed as she cleaned her lipstick from his cheek. "Oh, Will, I almost didn't fit in the elevator. One of the bellboys downstairs had to help me. And you should have seen me get all these inside Hot Tamale! It was like herding cats!"

  Will grinned at the image of Liz trying to shove the balloons inside her red Mini Cooper she'd named after her favorite cinnamon candy.

  "Is that why you didn't want me to pick you up at your place?" A proper date should see to his lady's transportation, but she had insisted on meeting him there instead.

  "It's more of a surprise this way, isn't it? Are you surprised?" Her hand trailed down his arm until she wound her fingers between his. Only then did she step out of their embrace. Her eyes burst with merriment and the sparkle unique to her. She was mesmerizing … and so happy he decided not to spoil her fun by telling her that he hadn't invited her to the restaurant to celebrate his latest career success.

  Leaning down, he inhaled her intoxicating scent as he brushed his lips across her forehead. "I'm mind-blown. And grateful the wind didn't carry you across the sound."

  She smacked his arm with her free hand and laughed. "It nearly did!"

  Will followed her while she took off her coat, chattering amiably with the coat check girl.

  He nodded when he was supposed to, he hoped. His feet stubbornly refused to budge as did his eyes from the woman who bewitched him body and soul.

  She wore her wavy hair on top of her head, a few rebellious strands cascading down the zipper of her dress and over her the dip below her collar bone. Just enough to tempt him to pull the sparkly pins holding her curls up so he could run his fingers through the silky strands.

  Black lace covered her shoulders, a matching satin bodice sliding down to her knees at just the right length to feature her shapely legs. Stiletto heels with diamond studs on the pointy toe added edge and height to her petite frame. And she’d worn her red lipstick. She was wonderful tonight.

  She traced her fingers up to his tie and straightened his collar. "You clean up nice, Will. Charlie made you get this?"

  Will nodded, not because he didn’t wish to speak, but because he was unable to. The ease with which she took his breath away filled him with awe. That she was unaware of how she affected him only added to the influence she held over him.

  "Well, remind me to thank him later." She fanned her face and whistled softly.

  He made plans to wear the suit again within the week.

  She moved toward the waiter patiently waiting to show them to their table, but Will's feet still refused to budge. He stood there, helpless and dumb, and praying that he wouldn't ruin their night.

  She looked over her shoulder when he didn't follow. “Will, are you okay?” She stepped closer to him, speaking softly into his ear. “I know this is difficult for you, Will, but I’ll stand by you. Like it or not, you’re a star now.” Running her fingers from his temple to the tip of his chin, she added, “With this face, it was only a matter of time.”

  Will gloried in the confidence she granted him with the shiver that shook her shoulders as she enumerated her favorite features: his chiseled jaw, slight divot on his solid chin, curly hair, tall, slender frame…

  When the compliments grew too grand and his face warmed, he said, “Who in their right mind would look at me when you’re infinitely better to gaze upon?”

  She blushed as he had hoped she would, her expression growing more serious. “We’ll go in not expecting any extra attention, but if you have fans in the room, they’ll want to share in your success. When you’ve acknowledged them, we can enjoy a quiet meal together and celebrate as we like.”

  Her concern melted his heart and loosened his tongue enough to tell her the source of his hesitance.

  "You’re beautiful," he sighed. How could she mistake the motive behind his invitation to the Starlight Terrace? All of Seattle’s population knew it was the place to propose. Unless she’d purposefully misunderstood him…

  She twirled, delight beaming from her like the beacons at Alki Point Lighthouse. "I couldn't wear just any old thing on such a memorable night." To the waiter, and Will was quite sure to anyone who would listen, she said, "Did you know that Will Donovan's debut novel was made into a movie? As if that isn't wonderful enough, the movie was nominated for not just one, but two awards at the Sundance Film Festival! You're looking at a literary genius whose story might very well win an Oscar next year."

  Her pride soothed Will's bruised ego at the same time it raised his panic. While it was his dream for his story to touch the lives of millions, the attention it brought terrified him. With recognition came fame. With fame came multitudes of fans and critics (the greatest being Burgess, who seemed to take delight in cutting writers' dreams off at the knees). But worst of all, were the intrusions on his time. It was a struggle to keep up with Charlie's marketing plan and write the story tormenting his mind when he was no longer able to ensconce himself in his favorite coffeehouses without being recognized and interrupted. Even the library was ruined for him.

  The maître d' found his way around the balloons. In a low tone, he said, "Congratulations on your success, Mr. Donovan. I saw it on the news, but didn’t realize that was the purpose of your visit here tonight."

  Liz spoke before Will. "Of course! After the spread in The Seattle Times, we wanted to do something special to mark the occasion."

  Will watched the maître d' whisper to the waiter keeping the balloons and their menus in control.

  Whispers and glances echoed through the dining room as they crossed the padded carpet. Liz would have turned heads even had she not been led to their table by a waiter holding an astounding number of eye-catching balloons.

  When they reached their table (the one with a view of the moon rippling off the choppy water of Puget Sound) and the waiter anchored the balloons down in such a way as to not disturb the view or any other diners, he said, "Please allow us in the Starlight Terrace to share in your joy." At his signal, the band began playing "For He's A Jolly Good Fellow."

  Will wanted to hide under the table, but Liz looped her arm through his, holding him in place.

  She sang wholeheartedly, her throaty voice as strong as the instruments playing the tune. As frustrated as he should be at her misunderstanding, Will was too charmed standing as he was by her side with her fingers plucking at his sleeve in tune with the music and the rise and fall of the lace over her collar bones as she sucked more air in to belt out the song with every ounce of enthusiasm in her possession. Liz was wholehearted in every venture she pursued. He admir
ed her for it ... even when it brought him discomfort. She forced him to rise to the occasion, which Will hoped he did with a toothy smile and several bows.

  When the song came to an end and the diners and waitstaff burst into applause, he was overwhelmed at their reception. All he had done was string words together, and they cheered for him as if he’d done something grand.

  He looked down at Liz, who met his eyes levelly. "Look what you've achieved, Will. Words wield power, and your stories give people hope. I'm so proud of you."

  She pulled away to say something to the waiter, and before Will could sit down, he found himself in the center of a flurry of silk, lace, and wool blended with cashmere. They pulled cameras out of pockets and purses, waving them as they pressed closer. Will faced them with good humor and was rewarded with blinding flashes that had him seeing spots for his trouble. But he treasured the congratulatory remarks given by people he saw. People who sincerely seemed to appreciate his work. If he believed half of what he heard in those few short minutes, his head would swell up like one of Liz's balloons. Only the humbling sensation that he was unworthy of such high praise kept his feet on the ground. That, and Liz’s hand circled around his arm.

  He signed everything handed to him with his trusty Sharpie. One woman actually had his book with her. Gary introduced her as Nicole. He wouldn't need to give up his favorite picture after all. Will shook his hand happily.

  Just before the crowd began to feel cumbersome and Will thought his cheeks might freeze into a permanent smile, the waiter cleared the space around their table.

  Will assisted Liz to her seat, brushing his lips at her temple before taking the few steps over to his side of the table when an uneasy sensation washed over him. That creepy sensation that crawls over your skin and sends your pulse racing. As soon as Will looked over his shoulder, he wished he hadn’t.

  Will forced himself not to look away lest the expert grudge-holder think he won the upper hand.

  Victor Burgess raised his wine glass in a mock salute, a twisted sneer on his face. His goatee looked particularly pointy.

  Giving his best disinterested expression, Will acknowledged him with a bow of his head and turned back to the only person with the ability to chase Burgess completely out of his mind. The man wasn’t worth a second thought, but he must have been fuming that the very newspaper that had fired him had printed a glowing report of Will’s successes where his column once was. That’s poetic justice for you.

  "Did you see Burgess? It must have smarted for him to see how well you were received. Serves him right for tormenting new artists. He’s nothing more than a pretentious bully," she said with no hint of pity.

  Will prayed Burgess displayed sense enough to stay on his side of the restaurant. Not that Will would ever do him harm ... but he couldn't be certain about Liz. Stilettos made effective weapons.

  Chapter Three

  The waiter's impeccable timing kept both Burgess and Liz seated. Will would be generous with the man's tip.

  After ordering the chef's tasting menu and the best wine to accompany it, Will noticed a stylish couple of age looking in their direction. The man appeared to try to dissuade the woman tugging on his sleeve, but Will recognized the determination in her set jaw. She reminded him of Liz when she got something in her head.

  Will leaned back in his chair, and the waiter collected the menus. Before he departed, he asked, "Would you rather have more privacy, or do you wish to continue to meet with your fans?"

  Will smiled at the man, who seemed to understand his desire to spend his time uninterrupted with Liz.

  "Thank you. I wish for some privacy."

  The waiter bowed, ready to fend off intruders while ensuring their food was delivered in a timely fashion. Will was relieved to have an ally on his side. He would propose when the champagne cork popped and the band played their song yet.

  "Pay no attention to him," Liz reprimanded, stopping the waiter in his tracks. Glaring at Will, she said, "How can you be a party pooper — especially at your own party!"

  Will could have pointed out that had he wished to have a party, he would have invited more people. Not to mention, he would have chosen a different venue.

  She continued, "Celebrating is best enjoyed with others." To the waiter, she said, "Please, we are not so grand we would refuse to acknowledge the source of Will's success. After all, without readers, where would we be?"

  The waiter's eyes flickered over to Will. What else was left to do but nod his acquiescence? He wasn't a snob to refuse a picture or to sign his signature when his dear, confused girlfriend thought there was nothing more important amiss than a poorly attended party.

  How could he turn the evening around without offending Liz? He didn’t have the heart to refuse uninvited company when she made it clear that all were welcome at their table. It would disappoint her too greatly. No, it was worse than mere disappointment. After making such a grand entrance with the balloons, she would be mortified if she knew, then she would feel guilty for ruining his plans. Mortification and guilt were not the emotions he wished to evoke that evening.

  Of course, she'd blown those plans to bits the moment she'd stepped out of the elevator.

  A whiff of perfume — it was nice, like a rose garden at the height of summer, but distinct from Liz's signature exotic blend — pulled him out of his musings in time to see the silver-haired woman standing by them, her husband fiddling with his bow tie and dragging a step behind her.

  “Excuse me for intruding. I never would dare to approach you, but I understand you are not here for the normal reason most couples come to the Starlight Terrace.”

  Will bit his lips together. If the silver-haired woman understood the purpose of the Starlight Terrace, then how could that obvious fact escape Liz? Unless she didn't want him to propose...

  He watched Liz's reaction. A flicker of confusion wrinkled her brow.

  No, she really didn't know. And she was not the sort of woman to string him on for the fun of it. She was too honest for that.

  "We're so happy with the Sundance nominations, we decided to dine somewhere elegant," Liz answered.

  "Well, I am delighted to see you tonight. I've been a fan of your blog since you started two years ago," the woman said, reaching back for her husband's hand and pulling him forward to stand beside her.

  Liz's face blushed in delight, and she placed one hand over her heart. "You're here for me? You like my blog?"

  "Oh yes. I love how you're able to share glimpses into the industry and the life of a creative through the audio work you do. Had I not become a lawyer and mother to three rambunctious boys, I would have begun my novel sooner."

  "You're writing a novel? How wonderful!" Liz clasped her hands under her chin.

  The bow-tied gentleman beamed at his wife, his pride visible for all to appreciate despite the roll of the eyes his wife gave.

  "I don't know if I should rightfully call it that or not at this point. It's taken me thirty years to write a half-finished manuscript!" she chuckled.

  Will loved the way her husband patted her hand in support. It made him want to encourage her too. "Persistence and determination are vital for every author, and it would seem that you possess those qualities in abundance. If you write, do not hesitate to call yourself a writer."

  He knew he'd said the right thing when the elderly gentleman said, "You see? I've been telling you the same for years. And now you've heard it from Will Donovan himself."

  Liz beamed at him as brightly as the gentleman did at his wife.

  The woman’s gray eyes welled up. “Thank you,” she said. “I feel as if you've given me a gift.”

  The man explained, “We, too, came here to celebrate a momentous occasion. Our fortieth wedding anniversary.”

  Will stood and extended his hand to the gentleman. “Please allow me to offer my heartfelt congratulations.” After an energetic handshake, he bowed over the silver-haired woman’s hand.

  “I gave my wife a diamond
necklace, but I think meeting you and hearing such kind words will be what she remembers from the evening,” the bow-tied gentleman said in good humor.

  She leaned into him and patted his chest. "Never, my love. This is merely the cherry on top of a perfect evening. In fact, I credit you with this chance meeting."

  Will was happy to help yet another couple with their perfect evening, but that didn't help his plans much.

  The man bowed, "We don't want to keep you. We hope your evening is as pleasant as ours has been."

  Will lifted his water glass. “Amen.”

  His wife held up her finger. "If I may impose just a moment more, might I please have your autograph?" She took the pen and notepad her husband offered her and set it before Liz.

  Once again, Will felt his shirt stretch over his chest. He liked this couple very much. Anyone who recognized Liz's obvious talent was a friend to him.

  Liz's face lit up in wonder. Will could have kissed the couple at the same time he wondered how on earth he could top what they'd done.

  "Who do you want me to make this out to?" Liz asked, clutching the pen between her long fingers.

  "To SilverFox67 if you don't mind," the woman replied.

  Liz dropped the pen and stood. Will hoped SilverFox wasn't averse to hugs because she was about to get one.

  "I've been wanting to meet you! You were my very first comment on my blog!" Liz said, squishing the woman in her arms.