by Lia London
“What?!”
Bran squealed like a pig, and Crawford missed the edge of his bed and sat on the floor hard.
“What?!”
“And Pow! Protein Bars want you for six different full-page spreads for magazine ads.”
“What?!”
“They loved the whole Good Samaritan thing! They’re going to show you doing different community service stuff, a couple athletic shots, and even one where you’re a superhero rescuing a damsel in distress. You are gold right now, Crawdaddy. Platinum!”
Crawford dropped the phone and rubbed his temples. Was this a dream? It was a pretty good dream. He snatched up the phone again. “Bran, are you yanking my chain?”
“No, Crawdaddy. That feature aired, and advertisers are drooling.” He gave bird-like squawk and then spoke very quickly. “Courtesy reminder I get a 20% commission.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Crawford jumped back up to his feet, pacing. “How soon?”
“Both gigs need you within the next two weeks. They want to strike while your celebrity status is still trending in the region.” More animal noises. “You’re going big-time, Crawdaddy!”
“This is it!” A slow smile spread across Crawford’s face.
“This is it!” agreed Bran. “How soon can you get down here to sign papers?”
“Let me make a couple of calls and then I’ll be right over.”
He disconnected and stared down at his maroon-colored Pistol Briefs. It hadn’t been his body that got the gig. The public wanted the hero angle, too. Being good paid off more than being sexy.
But this wasn’t about the public or the money except as far as it sparked a hope in him. Maybe there was a way in all of this to win Maris back and prove his love for her.
“Mr. Conway, I have a business proposition for you.”
Rickert Conway dragged his gaze up from the monitor on his desk to see Maris, dressed as chicly as any top exec, standing with an air of confidence fully foreign to her. “Maris?”
Maris stepped into the office, her high heels gleaming. “My name is Maris Conway, and I’ve been making some phone calls to several of your business associates in the region. I believe you’ll be interested in what I have to say.”
She had checked the stock prices before coming down the hall. Her stunt had worked, and her net worth had jumped another twelve percent.
“Your bottom line is fatter this morning than it has ever been because of insider news leaked to investors by yours truly.”
Her father narrowed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “What’s going on, Maris?”
“I’m willing to cash out my share of Conway Comm stocks at yesterday’s market value in exchange for two little stipulations, both of which will surely meet with your approval.”
“Rickert, have you seen today’s numbers? They’re…” Claudia entered the room holding a stack of charts but stopped cold when she saw Maris. “Oh. It’s you.”
Maris remained steely. “Perfect. This proposal will interest you most of all. In a nutshell, you get rid of me, the pro-bono department, and the burden of maintaining the Annex for even one day. You could devote all your budget to things that make more money for the company. Higher revenues equal happy shareholders, and you’d own fifty thousand more shares of the company.”
Greed lit Claudia’s eyes. “You’re serious?”
“All for the price of a few little signatures right here.” Maris patted the manila folder in her hand. “It’s a win-win.”
“Maris.” Her father’s eyes darted to Claudia before settling with a more paternal cast on Maris. “I thought you were kidding about resigning.”
“Not at all. Tomorrow is my last day at Conway Comm.”
Claudia sneered. “But your precious little shelter—”
“Will be my precious little shelter.” Maris placed the folder on her father’s desk. “Got your pen ready? There’s a lot to go over, and the notary is arriving in fifteen minutes.” She sat slowly, careful not to let her legs shake visibly. Folding her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling, she focused expectantly on her father. “Shall we proceed?”
Orchestrating all the arrangements had kept her up late every night, but the shelter now touted all the required amenities and permits to open. Tomorrow, a ribbon-cutting ceremony would mark the beginning of Angel’s Rest, phase one. The donors from the auction would be present, along with the media to applaud their generosity.
If her father and Claudia signed the agreements Hershel had drawn up, she would walk away with the shelter property paid in full and enough money to live on for at least a year while she donated her time as the manager of Angel’s Rest.
And perhaps her secondary stipulation in the contract would be enough to show Crawford how grateful she was for all he’d done for her: first option to model in all future Conway Comm publicity ventures.
Maris held her breath and watched her father’s eyes skim back and forth over the documents. “This is good, Maris.”
“Rickert?” Claudia’s voice wavered between curiosity and fear. “What’s the—”
With a flick of his hand, he dismissed her. “This is a business venture between myself and my daughter, Claudia. I want to make sure it is mutually beneficial. We can discuss Conway Comm business later.”
Maris chewed her tongue to keep from bursting out with an exultant laugh. Watching her father’s eyes move across the page, she felt hope blossom.
“You really want to do this, Maris?” His voice held no command.
She drew a deep breath and nodded. “I really need to do this, Dad.”
He folded his hands across the paperwork and studied her face for a long time, the lines between his brows softening. “Your mother would be so proud of you, Little Angel.”
Maris felt a rush of warmth envelop her. “And you?”
“For your goodness, for your initiative, for your business acumen.” He reached a little further and took her hands. “I’ll be glad to have you as a community ally instead of an employee.” Opening the drawer of his desk, he pulled out his favorite pen and turned to the final pages of the document to sign his name.
***
The sky promised to stay blue through the ribbon-cutting ceremony, though the chill in the air reminded the gathered crowd that fall had arrived in full.
Maris shifted around, making small talk with the donors who bid at the auction, showing them the circular brass plaque that announced their names and pointing out their business would be listed on the shelter website as Patrons of the People. They hummed and hawed in pleasure at the additional exposure and praised her resourcefulness in using the funds so judiciously.
She thanked them, eying the TV vans pulling into the parking lot. With the start time almost upon them, Crawford hadn’t arrived. Maybe he hadn’t gotten her voice mail. Maybe he hated her forever. She had hoped he would come do the honors of wielding the fancy shears but knew the task rested on her shoulders now.
Retrieving the giant scissors from their hiding spot inside the first unit, Maris signaled to the assembled group. “Hey everyone, thanks so much for coming! Please, if you could gather around in a semi-circle—yeah, closer, please. As if we were all friends!”
A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd, and they swarmed a little closer.
Maris shielded her eyes, realizing too late she’d placed herself in the sunniest spot. “Sorry if I look serious at you. It’s just bright.”
Another round of chuckles followed, and Maris cleared her throat and launched into her prepared speech. “Hi, I’m Maris Conway. As you know, Spokane has many fine facilities to help meet the needs of the homeless in our community. In partnership with Family Promise, Truth Ministries, and Crosswalk…” She paused to allow for a smattering of applause. “We’ll be providing overflow bed space, free hot lunches, free health screenings, and some job-finding services. Not all of it will start at once, but we hope to have it all running by the New Year. Originally, this was going to be an
outreach venture sponsored by Conway Community Builders.” She indicated where her father stood near the back, and the crowd pattered with light applause. Maris continued, “But then I got selfish and wanted the project for my own, so I’ve purchased the site and will manage it personally. I might not be brilliant at it, but I promise I’ll be here for the long haul.”
Cheers erupted, and Maris blushed before signaling for quiet. “Come on now. It’s cold out here. Let’s not waste time on me, when there are so many others who made this possible.” She began listing the various donors, volunteers, and consultants who helped, feeling better to focus the attention away from herself.
Before she could utter her scripted closing remarks, a light horn beeped, and a large delivery truck crawled into the parking lot. People reacted, some curious and others annoyed as it pressed closer.
“Wait, what?” Maris groaned. “Excuse me, folks!” She held up a hand and trotted over to the driver, who maneuvered his truck in a three-point turn. “Sir, you can’t—”
Wishing she’d worn flats, she scurried around to the front of the truck, waving both arms. “Hey, stop! We’re in the middle of a live event here! Can you—”
The driver completely ignored her and backed all the way up to the third unit, knocking over the pole that held one end of the ribbon.
“Gaaah!” Maris pounded on the door to the cab. “Hey!”
The man rolled his window down and gave her a gruff frown. “Lady, I’m sorry, but I’ve got a deadline. I was told to get this dropped off by right now.”
Maris squinted at him. “What?!” She gaped. “Nothing was ordered. I’m the orderer. I mean I’m the owner. I should know.”
“Talk to the guy in the back,” said the driver, shoving the gear into park. He rolled the window back up.
Maris stifled a scream of frustration and trotted back around the truck, waving at the crowd like a celebrity on the red carpet as she did. “Sorry. I’ll get this cleared up in a minute. Please chat amongst yourselves.” She flashed a grimace at her father, and he responded with a sympathetic shrug.
As she rounded the back of the truck, its door slid upward with a loud clank. An automatic ramp rattled down, forcing her back a few steps, and when she looked up, she dropped the giant scissors.
“Crawford!”
He stood with his hands holding up the door, pulling a Pistol t-shirt taut across his chest.
“I thought you all could use some clean socks and underwear. Maybe some nutrition bars, too.”
To Crawford’s relief, Maris bolted up the ramp and leapt into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and filling his mouth with the delicious sensation of her kiss. He let go of the door, and it jangled back down, leaving them in darkness as he tried to hug every part of her at once.
How had he survived without her these last few days? These last few years?
“Maris, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry I hurt you.” He tried to speak through the kisses she planted all over his face in rapid succession. “I promise I haven’t been sleeping with Chieko or anyone since I met you. I can’t. I—”
Her kiss deepened, taking his breath away and filling him with light and joy. He feared he would crush her in his arms yet could not let go.
“Maris, listen to me, please. I’m done looking for a fling. I’m done being afraid of commitment. I’m not waiting to grow up anymore. I’m ready. I have no idea exactly what I’m supposed to become, but I know I want to discover myself with you. We can grow together, can’t we, Maris?”
“Grow together?”
“You help me be good, and I’ll help you be brave?” He laughed. “Except you’re already brave.”
“And you’re already good, Crawford.” She caressed his cheek. “I don’t know why you’d ever say otherwise. You put people at ease and make them feel safe, you’re funny, you’re helpful, you’re willing to give of your time and energy.” Her eyelashes fluttered at his chin. “Not to mention what you do to me with your kisses.”
“I have more than kisses to give you.” Nuzzling his nose against hers, he said, “I’m not what you deserve, but I love you, Maris. I can’t even pretend to want any other woman anymore. Just you. Only you. Always you.” He squeezed her tighter, closing his eyes to steel his courage. “Will you be my Oralee? Will you teach me to be your Axel? Can we start planning our 60th anniversary now?”
She was still answering in the form of another heart-filling kiss when the door flew up again.
Epilogue
Maris watched Crawford sign the guest registry and then ran her fingertip over the ink: Mr. & Mrs. Andrews. Her knees jiggled with anticipation, and her cheeks ached from grinning since dawn. Bran and Adi had served as Best Man and Matron of Honor in the short, sweet service held on the 18th hole of the Skamania golf course.
“All right, you two lovebirds,” cooed Kelby. “I see you’re opting for the Hood Suite this time.”
Crawford grinned.
“We thought we might enjoy some time in the jacuzzi tub,” said Maris.
Kelby nodded knowingly. “Am I booking a couples’ massage for you two?”
Maris shook her head, wrapping her hands around Crawford’s arms. “No thanks. I think we can take care of each other in that department.”
“That’s great.” Kelby slid their paperwork across the counter. “I had someone take your bags up already. This is your celebration. Have fun!”
Crawford smiled and palmed the card key.
As they rode up in the elevator, Maris watched his every expression and marveled at how much deeper his eyes seemed than before.
At the door, he swept her up into his arms, kissing her as they crossed the threshold.
She slid her feet to the floor, her body pressed against his. This was it. Her honeymoon with her very own Prince Charming.
In the darkened room, she couldn’t see his face. “You’re awfully quiet. Is everything okay?”
“Hmm.” His breath wafted gently on a place behind her ear, and he unfastened the clasp that held her hair up in an elegant sweep.
“You’re not having second thoughts about this whole marriage thing?” she asked, fidgeting with the tie of his tuxedo.
His lips descended on the side of her neck, sending quivers of delight up and down her spine.
“Crawford?” She gasped at the sensation, and her knees buckled.
“Maris.” He caught her in a strong embrace, and his whisper urged all of her senses awake. “No second thoughts. My only thought is how to make sure you never regret waiting for tonight.”
She closed her eyes as his fingers slid the zipper of her gown down and his kisses moved lower. “Where do you want to be, Little Angel?”
“The clouds?” She could barely speak with her heart pounding in her throat and her skin flushing warmer with each brush of his lips.
He lifted her again, cradling her tenderly. “Are you sure you’re not afraid of heights?”
She ran her fingers through his mane, tugging him into a deep kiss. “Not at all. Take me as high as you can.”
And he did.
And to both their surprise, she took him even higher.
Northwest Locations Mentioned in A Bid for Love
Skamania Lodge ~ This is a real resort located in the Columbia River Gorge on the Washington side. It is truly gorgeous—and in fact was the location for my honeymoon 23 years ago!
Spokane ~ Located in eastern Washington, this small city (a little over 200,000 people) has sunny (if chilly) weather and all sorts of amenities and natural beauty. There are also several facilities in town that help the homeless population.
Crazy Little Crush
Chapter 1 ~ Looking for Work
“Goodnight, and thanks for joining us for the Saturday edition of the six o’clock news.” Chieko smiled and silently counted to twenty before relaxing her shoulders and rolling her eyes at the teleprompter. Another broadcast done. Anchoring—even on the weekends—held more prestige than doing the feature stories,
but the restrictive format bored her to death.
Clicking across the set in her high heels, she shrugged off the chic navy-blue jacket and nodded a good-bye to her co-host, Ryan Tyler. She knew his bladder had urgent plans for him because he’d stupidly downed a Mega Big Gulp of Mountain Dew right before showtime.
“Another great show, Miss Makiguchi,” said Brice Jacobs, her producer.
Chieko smiled, intending to press past him, but he caught her arm. She frowned. “Yes?”
He sighed, softening his grip, but held her in place with his authority. “Chieko, you really do a professional job presenting the news, so efficient and clear. You are the face of impartiality. People trust and respect you.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?”
Brice let out a nervous laugh and let go. “And you’re a smart one. Why don’t you come to my office? We need to chat.”
Chieko’s petite frame shrunk with dread, but she strode as stoically as she could down the hall and perched herself on the hard vinyl seat across the desk from Brice’s rolling office chair.
He didn’t sit there. Instead, he adopted the casual one-hip-on-the-corner-of-the-desk pose Chieko always associated with patronizing lectures or lecherous dweebs who thought they could tell the best joke ever and get lucky. Brice, pushing retirement, did not fall into the latter camp, so Chieko swallowed hard and braced herself for bad news.
What would it be now? He’d told her to loosen up and let her hair down to be more approachable, so she’d grown out her sleek bob past her shoulders. He’d told her she could be more colorful, so she’d taken to wearing bolder accessories. He’d told her to go ahead and banter with her co-host between segments, so she’d tried to laugh at Ryan’s corny jokes.
She always tried to live up to the expectations of others and found that people frequently told her how good she was right before they told her to change.