Saved by the Salsa

by Barbara Barrett

  “Would you mind leaving it on, Mr…Cam? That’s a favorite of mine,” Lacey said.

  Cam shrugged. “You like Latin music? This is Salsa, isn’t it?”

  “One of the group’s best.”

  “You into the stuff?”

  “I’ve been known to frequent a few of the Salsa clubs around town.”

  “Well, well.” He stole a quick glance at Jack, seated next to him. “If I recall correctly from our last Christmas party, Mr. Dalton here is also a Salsa aficionado.”

  “Really?” She tried to keep her surprise out her voice. Though his dark hair and eyes qualified him for the Latin part, she wouldn’t have pictured him as a fan of Pitbull.

  “Um,” he returned.

  “Oh, c’mon, Jack. Answer the lady.”

  A deep sigh emanated from the seat in front of her. “Yes, I do a little Salsa,” he grumbled.

  Cam reached over and nudged Jack’s forearm. “See, wasn’t so difficult. I’m glad you’ve decided to make nice again. Besides the project, you and Lacey have this dance in common.”

  Jack stared at the car’s ceiling. Then he turned to Cam. “If I promise to remain civil, will you hear me out about this project?”

  “Jack, Jack, Jack. You disappoint me. I thought we agreed you’d drop your concerns?”

  Jack spoke to her over his shoulder. “Concert’s over. I need for Cam to hear this.”

  “Go ahead.” Maybe Jack had seen something she hadn’t, although she doubted it. He’d barely had a chance to look around before he’d dive-bombed the tree.

  Jack swiveled in his seat so Lacey could hear him as well. “I can’t do anything about the clients you do business with, Cam, nor who you assign to projects. But I’d be neglecting my professional responsibilities if I didn’t advise you about the liabilities surrounding the site we just viewed.”

  This was a different Jack. This Jack sounded logical, knowledgeable, and concerned. This one she should maybe listen to.

  Cam didn’t say anything at first. He continued driving, eyes plastered straight ahead. Finally, in a lower voice, he said, “Okay, I’ll humor you. Clue me in.”

  Jack began by saying, “Bringing us out here for a private looksee the day after a major spring storm didn’t help with first impressions.”

  “Touché. Tell me about your concerns.”

  “Here’s my take on the place. It’s beautiful, yes. The rolling hills may cause a few problems, but all in all, they’ll add to the charm. The place is also tranquil, which I presume retirees are seeking.”

  Cam seized upon his words. “See! Just what I thought.”

  Jack held up a hand. “Hold on. There’s more. Excuse the pun, considering our recent mishap, it’s all downhill from here.”

  Cam scowled.

  “The location isn’t practical. The suppliers and subcontractors will charge a fortune for mileage alone.”

  “Manageable.”

  Jack’s hand came up again. “Still not finished. There’s a stream cutting through the place—it may threaten flooding of the low-lying areas unless we spend extra on hydraulic evaluation. I didn’t like the percolation of the land in some places following last night’s rain, either.”

  Why hadn’t she noticed those problems? She’d been the one studying the maps. All Jack had done was fall down the hill.

  “Fixable?” Cam’s tone had grown quiet.

  Jack shrugged. “Almost anything can be fixed, if you throw enough money at it. Are our client’s pockets deep enough?”

  Cam fell silent. A mile of countryside flew by before he replied. “I don’t think money’s an issue with this client. I know he’s good for it. But—”

  “Yes?” Both Lacey and Jack chimed in at once.

  “He’s more concerned about time. At least this conceptual phase. As soon as we lock down a design concept, the master planners and engineers can do their thing with layout—plats, individual sites, infrastructure, that stuff. I’d like to see our firm take up master planning one of these days. This project might give us entrée into that world.”

  A skeptical Jack asked, “You said he’s concerned about time. What’s his timeline?”

  “One month.”

  “What!” Jack nearly ripped off his seat belt. “We usually have at least double the time, and for big projects like this, maybe even six months. What’s the rush?”

  “The guy’s got a bee in his bonnet,” Cam said. “He’s slated to be in town in about four weeks, so he said to have something ready to present to him by then. Besides, this is merely the design concept. We don’t have to put specific plans together so much as suggest a thematic approach to the project and provide some sketches and diagrams to illustrate our motif.”

  “He doesn’t have to be here to approve whatever we come up with,” Lacey pointed out. “On several occasions I’ve used delivery companies to send plans to clients.”

  “True,” Cam conceded. “But since he’ll be in town, he wants an in-person meet.”

  “But a month,” she implored. “That hardly gives us any time to do preliminary research before we develop the concept.”

  “Research, Lacey?” Cam asked.

  “Well, yes. I’ve never done a retirement complex before, let alone dealt with baby boomers. My search engines and I need some time together.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Cam didn’t sound particularly sincere. “Just make sure we’re ready to go in a month.”

  One month. What had she gotten herself into?

  ****

  Back in his office, Jack wondered the same thing, but for different reasons. He now had a partner and a new project plus the added disadvantage of an unknown client. To top it off, they had the accelerated due date to finish their plans. Only one month. Insanity.

  He could cope with just about anything for a month. Except working with Lacey Rogers. Hadn’t been prepared for the effect she’d have on him. Professionally, she was going to drive him nuts with her obsession for research. She’d even scared the Bejesus out of Cam when she talked research, but the boss had played it cool and encouraged—encouraged—her to carry on.

  But professionally he could put up with her. Of course, he’d have to stock up on headache tablets and check a few books out of the firm’s library to make it appear he was doing his part. But the woman herself was going to kill him. Her mere presence while they were imprisoned under the tree trunk nearly did him in. His body had reacted as if it were one of Pavlov’s dogs and she was a doggie treat.

  Damn! Just thinking about her now made him go hard. How was he going to deal with being around her constantly for the next four weeks?

  He didn’t need this in his life. He might have a reputation as a ladies’ man around the office, hell, he’d even stoked the fires to make it seem real, but the image was purely for show. To enhance his superstar persona. He’d learned a long time ago to steer away from office romances when a female colleague he’d been seeing “borrowed” some of his designs for one of her own projects. These days, he needed to keep everyone focused on what a great architect he was.

  He was going to be named principal…soon. Had to. Maybe then his parents would sit up and notice.

  His phone rang. His mother. She called so rarely. How’d she know he’d been thinking of her and Dad? Could she now read minds along with all her other achievements? This day just kept getting better. “Darling! I know you’re going to be disappointed, but your dad and I won’t be able to make it back for Cam’s birthday party.”

  Birthday party? Oh, hell, he’d completely forgotten about the event later in the week. “Didn’t know you were planning to be here.”

  “No? I thought I’d sent you word through Cam.”

  Cam. Their long-term friendship with his boss continued to trouble him. Though he worked like a dog to prove himself, his performance didn’t matter, if his job depended more on the good will between his parents and his boss. “Uh, no. Cam didn’t mention anything.”

  “Maybe I called and left
you a message. When were we last in town?”

  “A while back. You were going to come for the Halifax Plaza opening a few months ago, but—”

  “….your father wound up in the senior amateur tennis finals at the resort we were visiting. Now I remember. What was going on?”

  “Halifax Plaza. My last project. The biggest yet.”

  “Right. So sorry we had to miss it. But I’m sure there’ll be many more in your career. Cam tells me you’re quite a help to him.”

  “Yeah, in fact I just received a new assign—”

  “Must fly, dear. Give Cam our regards. We plan to be back in town sometime in the next few weeks. See you then.”

  The click on the other end of the line wasn’t just the end of their phone conversation. It was a reminder of his relationship with his parents—detached and conducted on the fly.

  He blew out a long, audible sigh as he continued to stare at the phone. Just once, he’d like to see some interest on their part about his life, but he was damned if he would give them what they really wanted: a daughter-in-law, which was all they talked about during their infrequent visits. Forget it. He didn’t have the time or mental energy to dwell on their parental inadequacies. He had a more pressing problem at the moment, surviving four weeks of Lacey Rogers.

  Why was Cam so fired up to involve her in this project? Did the guy think he needed a partner? The competition thing was a ruse. Cam knew exactly what buttons to push with both his ego and Lacey’s and had played quite a tune putting them together.

  Jack leaned on his desk, head between his palms. What was he going to do?

  One of his drawing pads lay in front of him. He flipped back the cover, picked up a pen, and started to sketch, a habit since his teen years. Whenever his parents’ lack of attention got to him, or he’d pulled a low grade on a test, he’d found solace in his drawings.

  Before he knew it, he’d drawn the hillside where he’d plunged to his humiliation. He held the picture away from him to get a better view. Not bad. Almost total recall.

  Left to his own imagination, what kind of boomer retirement community would he conceive? He took a couple stabs at producing one. Not very exciting. Stale. Must be his present mood. Needed inspiration.

  Inspiration, huh? Like finishing the design concept before the novice input her first page? She wouldn’t be happy. Right! As testy as she’d been when he’d tried to pull her away from her precious site maps, she’d be furious if he had a full plan done before she was ready to start. What would she do if she got upset? Go to Cam for support? Doubtful. She was too busy proving she could best the Great Jack Dalton. Quit the project? A possibility. One worth pursuing.

  A slim shred of hope kept him drawing for a couple more hours.

  About seven, he rolled his shoulders to stretch, a sense of calm streaming through him. Oh, yeah. He’d struck gold. Maybe not with this design concept, but the idea he’d produced it independent of any input from her would send Lacey into a tailspin, possibly never to return to Earth again.

  Chapter Three

  After her encounter with the underside of a tree trunk, it would have been so comforting to spend the evening with a microwave dinner watching television from bed. But it was Wednesday. Wednesdays Lacey played cards with her brother, Brian, his girlfriend, Celia Fairchild, and Brian’s next door neighbor, Ken Harper. Wednesdays were sacred.

  Five minutes behind schedule. Her punctual brother was sure to be agitated. But she’d had to stop at the supermarket close to her office for cherry cheesecake, her usual contribution to the festivities, and had found the bakery shelves empty. Go figure. She’d had to wait for them to find more naked cakes in the freezer and apply the cherry topping. “Sorry, I’m late,” she called as she sailed into Brian’s living room.

  Brian emerged from the kitchen. “Not a problem tonight.”

  “Where’s Celia and Ken?”

  Voice barely audible, Brian said, “They won’t be joining us.”

  Great, a reprieve. “Wish you’d called before I fought the crowd at Dill’s to get this cheesecake.”

  “I told Ken not to come, but I wanted to tell you this in person. Celia and I are no longer seeing each other. She’s been hinting she wants a permanent relationship. As much as I care for her, I’m not ready.”

  Lacey’s stomach lurched like she’d consumed some of the mud encasing her earlier in the day. She gaped at him, attempting to collect her thoughts. Celia Fairchild was not only Brian’s girlfriend—ex-girlfriend now—she was also Lacey’s best friend and the office manager at Mackenzie and Associates. Lacey assumed someday they’d be sisters-in-law. She’d fantasized about Brian and Celia’s babies. She’d be Aunt Lacey, the closest she’d allow herself to a family of her own. Brian’s news meant there would be no nieces and nephews in her future. Despite her concern for her brother and friend, she felt cheated.

  “Well, say something.”

  She collapsed onto the sofa, at the last second remembering the cheesecake and placing it on the coffee table in front of her before it fell on Brian’s pristine carpet. “What happened?”

  Brian settled beside her, his face wrinkling like an overripe grape. He hunched forward, folded his hands together. “Celia isn’t one for confrontation. But she’s not above hinting. Or making assumptions about the two of us.”

  “That’s what couples do.”

  He shot her a sardonic look. “Like buying a condo together?”

  “Whoa! When?”

  “A few weeks back. Came as a complete surprise to me when she informed me she’d made an appointment to see the place. I must not have appeared enthusiastic enough during the tour. Afterwards, she called me on it, so I let her have it. She went all weepy and started questioning how things stood between us.”

  Of course Celia was pushing for marriage. She and Brian had been dating for close to two years. “Don’t you want to settle down?”

  He pulled at his collar as if it were shutting off his air supply. “Maybe. Someday.”

  “Someday? You’re almost thirty-two. How many oats do you have left to sow?”

  He bristled. “At least I’ve been seeing someone. You flit from one relationship to another.”

  “Suits me just fine. Better than getting left at the altar again.”

  “Alex called it quits years ago. Time to get on with your life and start trusting men again.”

  It still alarmed and mortified her how, during her sophomore year of college, she’d so readily given her heart and body to the law school student who’d convinced her she was ready for marriage. Ever since their mother’s death five years earlier, Brian had taken his role of surrogate parent very seriously. Though she’d needed the stability at the time, by the ripe old age of nineteen, she’d wanted her independence, whether she could handle it or not.

  Then Alex announced his plans for her to quit school and work full time to support him during his last two years of law school. She’d been fool enough to think she could appease him by working part-time while still going to school. He’d supposedly gone along with her plan. Then a month from their wedding date, Alex broke off the engagement. Two months later, he was engaged to a senior, who apparently had no problem dropping out of school just months from her own graduation to support her new husband’s schooling. They were married six months later and divorced two years following.

  Though Alex’s rejection hurt and humiliated Lacey, she blamed herself for making such a foolish choice. She suspected she carried the loser-in-love gene just like her unfortunate mother, whose spouse abandoned her. Unlike her mother, though, she’d been lucky enough to discover her mistake before saying her vows. Couldn’t subject herself to such heartache and disappointment again. Recovery had been too painful and too long coming. These days, she kept her social life light and uncomplicated. Her looks, not-so-bad body and reputation for no commitments kept the men flocking to her. Just the way she liked it—flings with no strings.

  Darn! Brian had almost gotten her off
track, making her remember Alex. “We’re talking about your love life, not mine.”

  “There’s no point beating this subject to death. Celia and I are through. I want her to move on. Find someone who’ll give her the type of life she craves. A house and children.”

  “So now what?” Lacey tried not to think about her own regret. She’d been looking forward to having Celia in the family.

  Shrugging, he patted her knee. “Guess your brother will have more time to spend with you. While Celia looks for the father of her children.”

  With no card game, it would have been such a relief to seek the comfort of her own apartment and pig out on her half of the cheesecake while she absorbed Brian’s news. But Lacey chose instead to stop off at Celia’s townhouse and hear her side of the story. She knocked on Celia’s door, not knowing what to expect. Anger? Tears? Accusations? She wasn’t prepared for a sweaty, panting thirty-year-old woman garbed in a pink sweat suit. It shocked her to learn Celia even did perspire.

  Towering over Lacey by several inches, Celia leaned against the doorjamb, wiping her neck with a delicate white towel embroidered with tiny pink flowers. “Lacey? No cards tonight? I thought Brian would have arranged for my replacement as swiftly as he disposed of me. I take it he shared his news with you?”

  Lacey invited herself in and plopped on Celia’s pale pink chintz-covered couch. Celia followed her into the room but avoided taking a seat.

  “What’s with the outfit?”

  Her friend checked out her top and pants, then toweled away more perspiration on her forehead. “Working out. Just bought an exercise bike. Thought I’d get in shape before joining a club.”

  “A fitness club? You?” This was clearly not the Celia Lacey knew.

  “Yes, me.” A defensive air edged the response.

  Realizing she’d inadvertently miffed her friend, Lacey attempted to undo her previous question. “Doesn’t hurt to stay in condition. But I’ve never seen a spare inch of fat on you.”

  “Thanks. I’ve been fortunate with my weight, but lately I’ve been feeling a little worn down. Need to get back in shape.”