Tomorrow's Promise

Prologue

“Come on in, the party’s just getting started,” the blond exclaimed. She kissed the dark-haired youth in the low-riding ragged jeans and scuffed leather jacket on the lips for perhaps a moment longer than was customary for a casual greeting. “Hey, I heard that you were long gone, but I didn’t believe it.”

“Still here.” The newcomer shrugged nonchalantly while casting an appraising eye over the women and men already gathered in the shabby-chic living room of one of the mixed-gender college houses. “Did I miss anything?”

“You mean did you miss anyone, don’t you?” Charlene Belvedere coyly rested her fingers on the boyish young woman’s hip, stroking her blatantly as they stepped out of the path of other arriving guests.

“Is she here?” Tanner Whitley ignored the caress. She’d been pointedly avoiding Charlene’s hints all fall, but it hadn’t seemed to put a damper on the blond’s interest.

“Uh-uh. Word has it she left the minute the two of you were released. I knew it would take more than a night in jail to run you out of town, though.”

Tanner’s stomach clenched at the not-so-subtle reminder of her most recent brush with notoriety, but her face revealed nothing. There wasn’t any point in explaining that she had only been detained, not actually arrested. The rumors had already become legend. “Well, it’s almost mid-semester break anyhow. I guess she decided to go home early.”

“Her parents showed up yesterday morning and practically packed her belongings themselves, then hustled her into the car. All rush-rush,” Charlene continued, unperturbed by the sudden stiffening of the muscled leg under her fingertips or the blaze of anger that leapt to Tanner’s dark eyes. “I don’t think Grace will be coming back to Bennington in January.” She laughed a little maliciously. “God, if they ever figure out that she was actually screwing you, they’ll probably send her to a convent.”

“Did Grace say we were sleeping together?” Tanner asked, feigning confusion. She knew Charlene was just trolling for information. Grace would never have mentioned what had transpired between them—not because she was ashamed, but because she was private about her personal life. Tanner liked that about Grace Weston. She didn’t pry, and she respected the same desire for privacy in others. Charlene, for all her good looks and brains, was incredibly insecure about both and loved nothing better than reveling in other people’s misfortune.

“Well, I just assumed...” Charlene whispered knowingly, leaning close enough that her breasts brushed Tanner’s arm. A steady stream of students arriving for the party had forced them back against the wall in the small entrance alcove, but she wasn’t complaining about the contact. Tanner Whitley was hot, rich, and wild. She’d been trying to get a date with her for weeks, but she never seemed able to catch the always-in-demand Tanner between women. Someone had actually said Tanner had been dating an English prof, but no one could say who it was for sure. “What woman would pass up the chance at you, and it’s not like you’re tied down to anyone. So, when I heard the two of you were going out...”

“Grace never gave me a second look,” Tanner lied. If Grace was in trouble because of her, she wasn’t going to add fuel to the fire. Let them all wonder. “I was still working on getting her attention.”

“Oh, so that’s the reason you took her to that trés elegant place in the Berkshires for the weekend. You were trying to get her attention?” Charlene’s tone suggested that she didn’t believe Tanner for a second. She took Tanner’s hand and led her into the living room. “Tell me another one.”

Tanner shrugged. She had no intention of discussing her love life with anyone, least of all someone who was likely to repeat every word she said before morning to anyone who would listen. “You have to start somewhere.”

“Well,” Charlene pronounced with finality, “she’s yesterday’s news now. Almost, anyhow. I suppose walking away from a totaled Mercedes and getting busted for public intoxication will be topics for discussion for another week or so. But at least she wasn’t driving.”

“Yeah,” Tanner remarked vaguely as she attempted to follow a group of jostling partygoers toward the rear of the house. The bar must be back that way, because it was definitely the area with the most activity. “At least she wasn’t driving.” So that’s what everyone thinks. Good, let them. Grace doesn’t need that kind of baggage following her around for the rest of her life.

“What about you?” Charlene clung persistently to Tanner’s arm in the crowd. “Are you in any trouble?”

“Me?” Tanner asked in mock surprise, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. With her smoky dark gaze, thick black hair that slashed across her forehead, and devil-may-care good looks, she resembled James Dean at his finest. “No. It’s not a problem.”

Not much was with a cadre of lawyers at her disposal. As much as she resented the corporate superstructure that loomed in her background like a black hole waiting to suck her into high-powered institutional obscurity, she’d been glad of its presence when she’d found herself behind bars facing a slew of felony charges, including DUI, reckless endangerment, and resisting arrest.

Still, better her than Grace, who’d been too drunk to remember any of the details of the car wreck and couldn’t contradict Tanner’s explanation of just how they had ended up off the road halfway down a mountainside in Vermont. Grace had been accepted to Yale Law School and couldn’t afford this kind of fuck-up on her record.

Tanner figured it was the least she could do to take the rap for her, considering that she had been the one to buy the last bottle of champagne, at which point neither of them had been exactly sober. Besides, she didn’t have any grand designs on the future, so what did it matter? She’d always known what the shape of her life would be—at least she had once she’d passed beyond the blissful ignorance of childhood.

She was a Whitley. In fact, she was the last Whitley, and it was her destiny to continue the tradition as head of the Whitley family empire. The fact that business dealings and venture capitalism left her absolutely cold was never an issue. Her only goal at the moment, however, was to avoid being swallowed by the giant gaping mouth of the Whitley company monster. So far, she had succeeded, but she knew her days were numbered.

“Uh...scotch, I guess, double up,” she said to the guy pouring drinks with both hands behind a makeshift counter in the kitchen. She didn’t want to think about what awaited her after college, or to remember why she would be assuming the mantle of leadership many years too soon. Somehow, though, she had a feeling it was going to take more than the scotch to make her forget it. She needed something to engage all her restless energy, not just dim her memories. Glancing at the woman still glued to her side, she asked, “Want something?”

“You know I do.” Charlene softly parted her lips in a seductive smile. “Just say when.”

“Go, Tanner,” the bartender muttered, and both women laughed.

“As in to drink?” Tanner repeated, but her hand was on Charlene’s waist now. What the hell. The lithe blond was gorgeous and willing, and the night would be long and cold if she had to sleep alone. So, why not? Tanner slugged the scotch and waited.

“Wine now,” Charlene whispered. “You later.”

Why not?