Bachelorette for Sale (7 page)

“You’re a better person than I am, Cherry, because I’d want to string his family jewels around his neck for playing me a fool.” Tawny walked out, leading the others down the hall.

A better person? No, not by a long shot, but you couldn’t hide under your covers with a tub of cookie dough forever. Sometimes you had to stand and face life’s ugly truths head-on. And sometimes, it was a matter of the pot understanding the kettle.

Not that either of them were right in what they did. At least Jason didn’t hurt anyone except her. Then again, the only person she’d really hurt with her lie ended up being herself.

This was business, and she needed to push her wounded pride aside. Granted, the whole date thing? Not how she would have played it. Then again, since when did men and women think the same way? Jason saw a chance to get in her good graces and took it. Again, not the wisest move, in her opinion, but she’d cut him some slack, as he was a guy and she’d learned the hard way that sometimes they had limited thinking skills.

“Well, you don’t have to like a person to work with them. They just have to be the right person for the job,” Cherry said to no one as she picked up the phone.

A half hour later she walked into the conference room, decision made. Sitting around the table, bickering, were the other members. Well, to be fair, not all of them were arguing. Holly Kimball, a forty-something teacher who volunteered her time at the center, sat at one end of the table, reading through a stack of proposals. Locked in heated debate with Tawny were Stan Nowak, self-appointed chair of their committee, and his lapdog, Rosalie Gomolka. Stan’s cheeks were flushed bright red and he shoved his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, glaring at Cherry.

“About time you joined us.”

Sweet, malleable Rosalie patted the back of his hand and whispered for him to watch his blood pressure. Apparently being an insurance agent was stressful, or maybe it was going head-to-head with Tawny. He’d been appointed to the committee as he handled the center’s insurance. Rosalie was a few years younger than Stan, worked as a medical receptionist, and coordinated with local doctors to volunteer hours giving free checkups and such. She clearly had a crush on the man. Cherry and Tawny got involved when Tawny’s boss brought the closing of the center to her attention. Tawny’s company loved community projects. For Cherry, it was more personal. She’d spent countless hours with the counselor at the center after her parents disappeared.

Stan frequently butted heads with Tawny and Cherry. Rosalie did whatever Stan wanted. Holly was quieter; she didn’t participate in their heated debates. When she did speak up, it was always with the voice of reason and patience.

“I was finishing up a few things to help us make our decision, Stan.” Dismissing him, she turned to the women. “Holly, Rosalie, good to see you—”

“Well, we’re done here, as far as the rest of us are concerned. We all got a copy of RIB’s proposal in the mail yesterday. The others are not qualified. If you and Tawny would cast your vote for RIB, we can conclude this meeting and get some lunch before we have to get back to work.” Stan puffed out his chest, glaring at her, daring her to contradict him.

Challenge accepted.

“I don’t feel RIB is the best choice for our project.” Cherry held up one finger, silencing the petulant man. “While they have been around the longest and do have a reputation for excellent work, they also have the highest proposed cost. Did you review the proposal from Jason Valentine?”

Across the table her question was met with lowered eyebrows, flared nostrils, and Stan clasping his white-knuckled hands in front of him. Rosalie continuously looked down while playing with her earrings, and Holly waited, as usual.

“Completely unacceptable choice. We know nothing about him or his company. He could be a scam artist waiting to walk off with our check the minute we cut it. I move to award the contract to RIB,” Stan said.

“You didn’t even look at the proposal, Stan,” Tawny said.

Rosalie timidly held her hand out, momentarily leaving her earring alone. Her face was scrunched up in concentration. “Sss . . .” Dropping her gaze, she went back to playing with her earring and staring at the table.

Rising when it became obvious Rosalie had no intention of continuing, Cherry passed out copies of the reference list to the other four members before resuming her seat. A quick rundown of his credit check showed Jason to be anything but a scammer. And if that wasn’t enough, his professional reference from his last job was excellent. “I also spoke with Jason’s last employer, a Pastor Edward Perky at the First Methodist Church over on Rosedale. According to the good pastor, we might want to nab Mr. Valentine before he’s nominated for sainthood, which should take place any day now.”

“Thank you—” Holly began.

Stan cut her off without even a glance. “One reference is not enough. Where is he from? What college did he graduate from? We simply do not have time to wait for you to do your job properly, which should have been done before this meeting. We need to make a decision on whom to award the contract to or else the work will not be done in time for the summer session. I move that we award the job to RIB. Do I hear a second?”

“Stan, you can’t force us to vote before we’re ready or before all of the members have had a chance to review the proposals in full. That’s unethical.” It took every ounce of Cherry’s willpower to keep her voice calm and collected. Holly wouldn’t vote until everyone else did, and Cherry was prepared to withhold her vote until the second Tuesday of never if that was how long it took to present all the reasons why RIB wasn’t the builder for them.

“You want Valentine because he’s your boyfriend,” Stan sneered.

“What?”

“Please, don’t try to deny it. You went out with him last night.”

“Stan, he won the date at the gala auction. You were there,” Cherry sputtered in shock. What was it with this man?

Again Rosalie’s hand ventured out in front of her, sort of halfway being holding her hand up and a wave. Not sure if the woman was trying to break into the conversation, Cherry made eye contact, yet Rosalie held her tongue.

“Wait just a moment.” Tawny’s words made the scared rabbit’s hand shoot down toward her side. “Today was the deadline to submit, not for us to vote.” Tawny neatly stacked the papers in front of her, taking her time. “However, since you’re in such a hurry, Stan, I have no problem taking the word of a pastor. I move to award the contract to Valentine Rehab Services. Do I hear a second?”

Three sets of eyes bored into Cherry’s forehead as everyone waited for her to speak, to stand behind her friend, which she would do, but she had hoped to win the others over with simple facts. What was she thinking?

“Seconded,” said an unexpected voice.

All heads turned to the end of the table, to Holly, who sat tall, shoulders straight, with a serene look upon her face.

“Which one?” Stan asked.

“I second awarding the contract to Valentine Rehab Services.”

Cherry grinned.
Wow, didn’t see that coming. Way to go, Holly
. Clearly it would be a three-to-two split. However, that was all they needed, and Stan would have to learn to deal with the decision.

“All in favor of awarding the contract to Valentine Rehab?” Tawny asked.

One by one, three ayes were voiced until all eyes were on Cherry.

“Aye,” Cherry said.

Stan jumped up from his chair, knocking it over backward. “I’m very disappointed in you, Rosalie. I expected better judgment from you. And you, Holly.” He tsked. “You can cry it from the mountain and tell the world you selected Valentine because of his proposal, but I know the truth.” He glared at Cherry. “You’re everything your ex-fiancé said to the media. I quit.”

The man stormed out of the conference room, not a sound uttered until the bell over the front door jangled hard enough to make Cherry wonder if he’d cracked the glass. She sat gathering her thoughts, trying to figure out exactly what Stan meant by his last comment. Ari had made a lot of claims about her and their relationship in his many interviews, so it was hard to believe that she could really be
everything
he said. Unless she had multiple personalities, which he, of course, claimed as well.

What had she been thinking when she volunteered for the committee? Life was simpler before, just her, her dog Tucker, and a package of Pillsbury cookie dough, neither of which judged.

Clearing her throat a few times, Rosalie waited to speak until all eyes were on her. “I’d like to apologize for Stan. However, I doubt it’d do any good. He’s a stubborn old goat and I’m pretty sure he promised his friend the contract no matter what.”

“I thought you were in favor of RIB,” Holly said. “You were going to second his nomination, you told me so.”

“Initially, yes. However, facts are facts, and they were twice as much as Valentine’s proposal. Being in business longer doesn’t always mean you’re better, sometimes it simply means you’re older and outdated and a bit stuck in your ways. Sometimes we need to take a chance on the new and unknown,” Rosalie said.

Holly brightened. “If it makes you feel better, Rosalie, I know Pastor Perky and First Methodist is my church. I’ve seen the work Mr. Valentine is capable of, and he’s exceptional. I move we table any further discussion until we have a replacement for Stan.”

Cherry said, “Tawny, can you check with your boss and see if we have to have five on the committee? Until then, we’ll go with Holly’s suggestion. Sound good?” All agreed and Holly and Rosalie showed themselves out while Tawny helped clean up.

Cherry didn’t look forward to the coming months of working and seeing Jason on a regular basis, but this was strictly business, not pleasure. Because the last thing she needed was another man who was only interested in what she could do to advance his career.

C
herry paced back and forth in front of the gray-and-white Victorian dragging her dog Tucker along with her, not sure if she was trying to talk herself into or out of what she had to do. Had she lost her flipping mind? Sure, she had voted to award the contract to Valentine Rehab, but that didn’t mean she had to be the one to hand-deliver the center keys and the contract to him. So why did she volunteer? Clearly, she’d lost her flipping mind. That or she was dying to find out what crow tasted like, because the more she thought about his apology, and dinner, the more she’d realized she overreacted a teensy tiny bit. Played the reality-star diva role and Ice Queen all rolled into one.

“Come on, boy, let’s get this over with. His truck is here, so it must be the right place.” She rang the bell next to the bright red door and waited, with Tucker sitting at her side. Booted footsteps neared on the other side. She met Tucker’s gaze before the door opened.

She wasn’t sure what she expected, but a shirtless Jason Valentine was not it. Oh my, talk about some serious yum factor going on. The dream version didn’t even come close to comparing to the real deal.

“H-hello. I, uh, hi . . .” Her gaze dropped to the glistening hair on his sculpted chest and she about swallowed her tongue. Did he rent those abs out as a ladder? Because she’d really like to climb up them and hang on for dear life while he took her for a wild ride.

Pulling her gaze back to meet his twinkling eyes, she focused on the task at hand.
Forget the fantasy, Ryan. Reality never lives up to real life, as it’s proved time and time again
. First with her parents, then what’s-his-name in high school, Shane in college (total liar and user), and then Ari. Why would Jason be any different?

“Hi, you don’t look like the pizza guy.” His voice made her think of warm, melted chocolate, followed by images of what she’d like to do with said lickable sweetness. If only it were someone else. Someone she could trust.

“Sorry, no pizza, but I do come bearing good news, if you have a few minutes.” She leaned a tad to the side, trying to see if she was interrupting anything.

Holding the door open farther, he stepped back and waved her in. “Come on in.” He dropped down to her dog, extended a hand. “Hello, boy. You must be Tucker. Bam is outside, but she’d love to meet you.” Standing up, he looked at Cherry still standing on the steps. “I was doing some work on the deck out back.”

At his words, she did a double take. Outside? Granted, for the first week in March it was unseasonably warm. Still, at fifty degrees she had on two layers to chase the chill away, and here he was working practically au naturel. Suddenly she found herself very thankful for the ability of the male of the species to run at a higher body temperature.

Stepping inside, she expected to find the space converted into offices like so many other Victorians in the area. Instead she discovered herself in a residential foyer that opened to a living room and kitchen.

“Oh, I thought this was your office.” She quickly took in the room. Dark maroon couches sat facing a fireplace and a giant flat-screen TV. A few abstract art prints brightened the light gray walls. Otherwise it was . . . sparse. No family photos. No dusty mementos of trips taken. No scattered piles of books. Quite the opposite of her place.

“Welcome to my home and office.”

“I tried to call, but got your voice mail. I didn’t mean to disrupt your evening.”

“You’re not interrupting.”

“Anyway, the committee met today. You had the best proposal. The job is yours.” She thrust an envelope at him before wandering over to look at a print of a beach with stacked rocks. “We wanted to make sure you got this right away. I figured I’d be dropping this off with a secretary.”

Jason held the unopened envelope, watching her with an amused slant to his mouth. “Thanks. I tried to get Dave to dress up and play receptionist for me, but he’s no fun and looks awful in a skirt. Hairy legs.”

She couldn’t help it, she laughed at the visual. At the same time, she’d bet his friend would turn a lot of heads if the skirt were a kilt instead.

He walked into the kitchen and pulled a couple of glasses down from a rack. “Will you stay and join me in a celebratory dinner of pizza and wine?”

She played with Tucker’s leash, ignoring his whine. Out of nowhere a case of nerves hit. She didn’t know what to say and had no idea why. Wasn’t like it was the first time they’d met. It’d barely been eight hours since they last spoke. “I really should be going. If you have questions you can call Tawny or me on Monday.”

Sliding open the envelope, he pulled the contract out and skimmed it over before setting it back down. “I’d really like it if you would stay. I have some questions about the job and I’d like a chance to explain last night.”

Tucker took that moment to yank free of her hold and run to the back door, whining and pawing at the door. “Tucker, get back here. We have to leave. Come on, boy.”

“I think he wants to stay and play. She won’t hurt him. Bam would love to have a friend. If we’re going to work together, we really should talk. Clear the air.”

Just then, the doorbell rang. It was the pizza delivery guy. As Jason went to pay for the pizza, both dogs started barking and Cherry stood conflicted, a situation she rarely found herself in. On the one hand, she wanted to do anything she could to get the work started as soon as possible, and to be honest, there were details to work out with Jason. And well, jeez, since she was being all up front with herself, she might as well admit part of the reason she felt conflicted was plain old fear. The guy was smoking hot, melt-the-chocolate-all-over-your-body sexy. Not perfect by a long shot, thanks to his arrogant attitude, and boy, did he have it in spades. But he intrigued her. It’d been a long time since a man had made both her body and mind sizzle.

And that alone was the best reason on the planet as to why she should decline his invitation. Yet he was right. They needed to clear the air before they started working together. She had to know she could trust him.

“You staying?”

“I guess I have time for a slice.”

“Let’s introduce the dogs to each other and then they can play outside while we enjoy dinner on the patio. It’s too nice to be stuck indoors,” Jason called from the kitchen where he’d disappeared. “Red wine or beer?”

“Wine, please.” What? Where did that come from? She’d meant to say neither, to pass on the alcohol and keep everything strictly business. Eating pizza and drinking wine on a Friday night sounded too date-like.

He walked into the living area with two glasses of wine, sat them both on the table before reaching for the door. “Ready?”

Looking down at Tucker, who sat by her side, quivering with excitement, she gave a nod. His front paws did a little move like he was trying not to bounce up and down, but only half succeeding. “Let her in.”

The prettiest black-and-white Staffordshire terrier bounded in, tail wagging, only to stop short when she caught sight of her visitors. She tilted her head to the side, took a step forward, and gave a short woof. Tucker held his place, and within a few seconds they were busy conducting the all-important sniff test, followed by kisses. If only it were so simple between members of the human species.

The dogs took off running out the open door. Jason handed her the glass of wine, his fingers brushing hers in the process. Her gaze shot down, then back up to meet his. Soft, warm, rough. Scrambled thoughts zipped through her mind as she took in his touch, noted how his skin felt against hers. Cherry backed away. “I’ll go check on the dogs.”

She found the backyard a straight-up man zone. A privacy fence ran around the yard, allowing the dogs to run and play without her worrying about them getting into trouble. She didn’t have to worry about flowers being trampled—there were none, not a single one. Vines hung from a pergola, which ran from the house to the back fence. There was also a freestanding hammock strategically placed to take advantage of the shade, perfect for a Sunday-afternoon nap. The low-rise deck sported a couple of comfortable-looking chairs, a round patio set, a fire pit, and a grill that she was pretty sure you could cook an entire cow on.

Taking a seat at the table, she pointed to the vines. “What are you growing?”

“Wine grapes.” He nodded to her glass. “You’re drinking the fruits of my labor.”

She gave the lush, rich red liquid a swirl, took a deep whiff, and then sipped. “It’s lovely. Bold color, bits of cedar, cranberry, and if I’m not mistaken, nutmeg.”

His left brow arched, followed by the left side of his lips, a touch of pride in his stance. “Wow, you’re uncanny and dead accurate. That’s my Cabernet Franc from last season. I think it’s my best so far.”

Somewhere between her arrival and that of the pizza he’d slipped on a plain white T-shirt, and as crazy as it sounded, he was even sexier than before. Bare feet, jeans, tee, and rumpled hair. He looked like a man who had just climbed out of bed or the shower, or one who was ready to settle down and snuggle with his woman for the night before a blazing fire. A lock of his dark brown hair dropped over his eye, and she had an incredible urge to sink her fingers in, brush it back, and give those too-intense eyes an unobstructed view of the real her.

“Where did you learn about wine?” Jason sat the pizza on the table, along with a couple of paper plates, a pepper mill, and red pepper flakes.

“I once dated a winemaker. He taught me a few of the basics, some of the process, the art behind the combinations used for each varietal. However, I’ve always had this freaky knack for being able to single out individual ingredients. Drives my gram and George crazy, especially when they’re trying to sneak something past me that I don’t like.”

The dogs, tired from their game of chase, plopped at their feet. Jason reached down, gave both dogs a scratch behind their ears, and promised if they were good he’d make sure they both got treats.

“What about your parents, does it drive them nuts too or are they like you?”

A sharp pain shot through Cherry’s chest at the mention of her parents. She really had no idea if she was like either of them or not. An eight-year-old’s memories faded after a while. These days she had to rely on her grandparents to tell her what her parents were like.

“You wanted to clear the air?”

He took a long moment to study his wine, before taking a drink. “I had every intention of telling you at the beginning of the night what I did for a living. I wanted to tell you at the fund-raiser, but Dave was convinced that with the competition, we needed an edge. Before you jump to any conclusions, the plan was just to talk to you about the company and our vision for the center. Let you see we were the right guys for the job despite the fact that we’re younger than the others out there.”

“Okay, so why didn’t you?”

“Standing in front of the fountain, you looked lost. And then there was that crazy conversation. When you first asked, I thought you’d get mad since I was already late and you thought I was clearly after something else.”

“So, you’re saying it was my fault?” Cherry asked.

“No. I take full blame.”

Cherry looked around the yard, taking in what he’d said and what he hadn’t said. She was sure there was more to his answer than what she’d heard, but she wouldn’t push it at this time. “When can you start on the center?”

“Since the job’s officially mine, I’ll probably head over tomorrow and start with a more in-depth analysis, determine the best starting point, take some measurements, that kind of thing.”

“Tomorrow’s great. Tawny will be there at ten. She has an interview with some reporter, not that you need her. There’s a set of keys for your use in the envelope.” They both settled in while they finished off their slices of pizza, saving bits of the crust and a few small pieces for the dogs. Cherry was surprised at how quiet the backyard was considering they were on a busy street, and she noticed that his building was a split Victorian like hers, yet no one had bothered them while they enjoyed the sunset. “This is really nice. Is it all yours?”

“Thanks, and no. Dave actually lives on the second and third floors. We do some work for the owner, so he gives us a break on the rent.”

“Wicked, can’t beat that kind of deal.” She took another sip of her wine, letting the sweet, cool liquid run down her throat, and noticed a slight light-headedness. Wow, some seriously potent stuff.

“Trust me, there are times when the landlord definitely gets the better end of the deal.” He shrugged his shoulders while glancing over at the grape vines. “We like the neighborhood and hate moving, so here we are.”

She got the feeling there was more to it than laziness. His tone held a trace of fondness both for the place and for the slave-driving building owner. “Will your arrangement with him be a problem when you start on the rec center? I mean, you aren’t going to be working on his jobs when you should be working on the center, are you? It’s very important that we finish before school lets out.”

Holding her breath, she said a little prayer, hoping she hadn’t made a mistake that would cause her good buddy Stan to gloat.

He swallowed pizza and took a sip of wine and shook his head. “No worries, he knows the paying jobs come first. Who’s the project manager?”

“Tawny and I are the co-chairs. If you have questions, you can contact either one of us. We’ll need weekly updates. Also, the board would prefer an on-site inspection.”

He slid another slice of pizza onto each of their plates before he sat back in his chair, taking a hard look at her. Thankfully, she’d had lots of practice at being a freak on display. Heck, millions tuned in each Monday to watch her dating escapades. “Do any of the committee members have actual construction experience?”

“Hmm, does building a recipe box in grade school count?”