“It’s not embarrassing, to feel deeply.”
She nodded, ducking her head, mortified by her bewildering show of vulnerability.
“I’ll get us some drinks and wait for you,” he said.
“That’d be great, thank you,” she murmured, turning away.
By the time she emerged from the ladies’ room a few minutes later, she’d collected herself completely. Hopefully, Jacob hadn’t thought her display too odd. Eager to find him now that she’d calmed herself, she searched the crowd for his head. As tall and distinguished as he was, he was sure to stand out. She didn’t see him, however. Maybe he’d decided to use the facilities, as well. No sooner had she stationed herself near a column in order to wait, she caught a quick glimpse of him in the distance. He jogged up a flight of red-carpeted stairs.
That was strange, Harper thought, moving away from the column in his direction. His manner had seemed rushed and tense. Was he looking for her? She walked through the milling crowd of people in his direction. She reached the stairs where he’d disappeared, craning her head to see. There was a bend in the stairs, obscuring her vision. The men’s lavatory wasn’t in this direction, she knew from prior experience. Maybe Jacob knew some roundabout way to get there?
She rose up the first three steps, getting a better view of the entire lobby. This would be a good pace to wait . . .
“. . . you promised me, Regina.”
Harper started. It’d been Jacob’s tense, low voice she heard resounding from the upper part of the stairs.
“I didn’t promise you that I’d never come back to San Francisco,” a woman exclaimed.
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jacob seethed. “That’s what I meant.”
“It’s just champagne!”
“How did you know I’d be here tonight?”
“Elizabeth told me she’d gotten two opera tickets for you tonight. Don’t be mad at her. I kind of tricked her into telling me.”
“You agreed to stay in Napa until you’re more stable,” he continued quietly, but Harper heard the anger in his tone, as if he felt the situation spinning out of control.
“You’re here,” the woman replied bitterly. “You told me that you were so busy in Tahoe, and yet you have time for the opera? And I saw that woman you’re with.”
“I’m not making excuses to you. I’m not the one who broke a promise.”
“Oh, that’s right,” the woman said sarcastically. “Jacob Latimer, always above reproach. Always so cold.” Her harsh laugh segued into a sob. Harper’s heart lurched uncomfortably.
“Why don’t you love me the way I do you, Jacob?”
“Jesus,” Harper thought she heard him mutter before she became aware of rapid movement beside her. A dark-h
aired man flew up the stairs next to her and paused on the landing, looking upward.
“Regina?” he called. “What’s going on? Are you all right?”
“Is this your escort?” Jacob asked.
“Yes. It’s okay, David,” Regina sniffed.
Harper started back guiltily when she saw movement and a flash of red. The woman—Regina—put her hand on the dark-haired man’s lapel.
“What did you do to her?” David demanded accusatorily, looking up the stairs.
“I didn’t do anything to her. You did. She’s drunk,” Jacob snapped. “Are you drunk as well?”
“What? I’m not going to—”
“It’s okay, David. Jacob and I are old friends,” Regina said.
“Friends?” David asked scathingly.