Jo threw the pen in her hand onto the desktop. “Chad, I am at the end—”
“I know. But if you’d just hear me out, I’d appreciate it. Let me say my piece, and then I’m gone.”
“Fine.” Jo pointed to the chair beside her desk.
That was more like it.
He sat down and was just about to begin when she said, “You were way out of line snitching to my father like that. So congratulations, you’ve now made me even angrier at you. You’re not going to change my mind, so hurry up and say what you have to say. I’m busy.”
“Your dad would have wanted control of the expansion. Hell, the whole restaurant, for that matter. He’d be looking over your shoulder every day until the debt’s paid. I wanted to spare you that. I hate how your dad treats you.”
She slowly shook her head. “You don’t see how by tattling on me to be sure you got your way and then drawing up a set of plans without ever consulting me is behavior just as controlling as my father’s?”
What? No!
Was it?
He hadn’t meant it that way. “The plans were a gift. You’d have had to pay thousands for them.”
“So you thought a set of plans that included no input from me would make everything right and that I’d forgive you?”
Yeah. But it sounded kinda bad when she put it like that.
Dammit.
“I’ll make any changes you want. And I apologized to you about the . . . misunderstanding back then, but you wouldn’t hear it.” He shifted in his chair, searching for the right words. “I’m sorry about calling your dad. I thought I was the better choice for the money because I’d never put any strings on it. My bad. But will you please reconsider helping me? Football to me is like baking is to you. It’s all I’ve wanted since I was seven years old. I need you, Jo.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “Football is what you value above anything or anyone else. Your whole identity is based on it, Chad. I wasted too many years figuring that out. We’re not right for each other.”
He wanted to punch something, but this was his last chance. Jo was a logical person. He’d stick to the facts. “Please hear me out. I’m asking for your help, not asking you to marry me.”
“I realize that.” She looked down at her fisted hands. “Go on.”
“My doctor isn’t giving me very good odds. He said I might have to settle for walking without a limp one day. But I know what you did for my pal Roger Yeats. When he’d been traded from the Broncos to the Chargers a few years ago, everyone asked him how he’d done it. How he was able to come back from such a career-ending injury. He said it was because of you. You never gave up on him. And you didn’t let him give up on himself.”
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “He was determined to get back out there. He just needed someone tough to push him, then he did all the work. Not me.”
“I need to be pushed that way too. And I need someone in my corner. Someone who believes I can do it. Someone I can trust to keep the extent of my injuries out of the press. You have more integrity than anyone I’ve met, and I admire and respect you for it, Jo. I need you. Please?”
Jo studied him for so long, he wasn’t sure whether she was going to throw him out or give in. Finally, she said, “Regardless of what you want and need, I don’t think I can work with you. We have . . . history.”
“Good history. We work great together. In college, you got me into top shape in time for the combine. Made me look good enough to be drafted in the first round. Everyone predicted I’d go much lower after I got hurt in the last game of the season. But you saved me.”
“You saved yourself. You wanted that worse than anything else.”
“Wrong. I wanted the sex acts you bribed me with if I did those extra reps worse than anything else.”
The corners of her full lips started to tilt before she checked her smile. “Yeah, well, your buddy Roger got none of that and neither will you. Please just call one of the names on the list I gave you, Chad.” She stood, obviously signaling the end of his time. “I honestly hope you’ll be able to play again. Now go home and ice your knee. It must be killing you.”
He stood too, and then leaned on his cane. “Promise me you’ll sleep on it before you give me your final decision.”
She shook her head and opened her mouth to turn him down, so he laid his fingers on her soft lips to stop her. “Twenty-four hours is all I ask.”
Jo stilled as she stared into his eyes. That deep physical connection, that zap of heat, was still there between them. She must’ve felt it too. “Thank you, Jo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He left her with a deep frown etching her forehead as he slowly closed the door behind him.
When a loud thud sounded against the closed door at his back from something she must’ve thrown, he smiled.
Jo hadn’t changed a bit.
4
NOT ALL PIE IS SWEET TO EAT. ESPECIALLY THE HUMBLE KIND.
Jo’s favorite time of the day was in the late afternoon when everyone was gone and she had the kitchen all to herself for baking. There wasn’t room to spread out like she needed when the full staff was there in the mornings and early afternoon. But today she wasn’t feeling it. She’d been edgy and distracted since—well, since Chad had turned up a few days ago.
Chad’s earlier plea to help him still circled her brain, tugging at her heart. From what she saw of his injury on the replays, he was going to need someone persistent and patient to rehab his knee. He’d been right about that. They’d have to be strong enough to push him—and be pushed back. Chad had a temper to rival her own. And his tongue could be just as sharp as hers when pushed to his limits.
That was what used to make him so much fun to fight with. He didn’t intimidate her like he did others. Most never saw the real man behind all those muscles and macho swagger. Underneath all the manly bluster, Chad used to be a kind and loyal person who only asked the same in return from others. It had to have been a deep betrayal to find out his ex-wife was a liar and a cheat.
His parents taught him to be honest, work hard for what he wanted, and to show respect for others, regardless of their station in life. But he had blinders on when it came to his football career. He’d destroy anything that got in the way of his success, including their relationship.
She placed her cake pans into the oven and gently closed the door. After she set the timer, the lights went out again. Damned oven! She turned it off, took her cakes out, then made her way back to the breaker box. Sometimes when it’d been on all day, it blew circuits. She’d have to replace it soon. Along with her crappy car, but that was way on the bottom of her needs list.
She made her way in the dark back to the breaker box and opened the panel. Crossing her fingers, she reset the breakers, and the electricity came back on. No need to call the electrician and spend a fortune again, thank goodness. She’d had him out twice in the last six months.
She went back to the kitchen and turned the oven back on. While she waited for it to get to temperature, she wiped down her workstation and spotted the rolled-up plans Chad had left earlier. She shouldn’t bother to look. But they’d been calling her name like her jet tub often did at the end of a long, hard day.
Okay, dammit. Just a quick peek. They’d probably suck anyway.
She caved and unrolled the plans. As she scanned them, a wave of hot desire raced through her veins. He’d redesigned a much larger kitchen into two separate areas. One for baking and the other for the food service. Then he’d expanded the dining area in an über-efficient way the waitstaff would cherish.
Genius.
How could he have known what her heart had desired from day one but they hadn’t been able to afford?
It had to have been Shelby. That was why his design was so . . . right.
After studying the details more closely, she wasn’t so sure Shelby could’ve even come up with such clever ideas. Chad was damned good.
She l
oved, but sort of hated, that he’d designed in the new double-capacity oven for her baking that he’d tried to bribe her with earlier. Man, she needed that. He’d obviously spent a lot of time on the plans. Maybe he really had meant them as a gift.
Dammit, this was exactly what she’d envisioned her restaurant to be. With this layout, they could serve double the customers she could now. And it’d fix her oven problem that had been growing increasingly worse. It could be the answer to her problems.
Maybe she should rehab him.
But he’d be in a hurry like Jed had been, and Chad’s injury appeared just as severe.
Would Chad blame her if he couldn’t play again? Would she blame herself for failing to get him back out on the field? What if he went back too soon and completely blew out his knee? He might need a cane the rest of his life. That’d kill Chad.
She’d always taken her patients’ injuries so personally. Felt like a failure if their bodies didn’t heal correctly. It was why she hadn’t been happy doing that kind of work. She’d gotten way too involved.
But maybe now that she did what she loved, she could stay detached. Chad wasn’t like Jed. If Chad’s knee wasn’t ready, it wouldn’t be life or death. Just deep disappointment. And possible deep resentment of her. But why should his opinion of her matter? They’d gone their separate ways long ago.
Rehabbing him would solve both of their problems. But how could she bear to be around him when his earlier touch had proved how much she’d missed him—physically.
She knew better than to let her heart get involved with him again. That wasn’t going to happen, but being with him day after day wasn’t going to be easy. Especially because she hadn’t been with a man for two years because she’d been so hurt by the last ones.
Maybe if she found another guy to fill that physical void, she could ignore the attraction that was still there with Chad and just do the job.
Shelby and Lori would find her perfect match. They were really good at that.
It might actually work.
But first she had to figure out how to tell him yes after so many nos and still save her pride.
She pulled her cell from her pocket and called Shelby. “So, I saw the plans Chad drew up and—”
“You love them.”
“Yeah. But I can’t figure out how he got everything just right. You must’ve helped him.”
“A little. But he’s been getting his master’s in architecture in the off-seasons. I sold him a ton of property in the area when the market was bad a few years ago, because he knew he’d have to do something else after football. He just isn’t ready for that to be now. So are you changing your stubborn mind?”
“Well . . . maybe. I’m still not sure this is a good idea. And I really hate groveling.”
Shelby chuckled. “Let me give you his number. It’ll be so much easier to grovel on the phone than in person.”
“Thanks.” She jotted down his number, but she was no coward. She’d ask him to meet, face-to-face.
After hanging up with Shelby, she called Chad, not relishing that big, bitter slice of humble pie he’d surely make her eat.
Chad dug his vibrating phone from his jeans. It was an unknown number. He considered ignoring it, but it was from the Denver area, so he answered. “’Lo?”
“Chad?”
He sat up straighter on the park bench, working to sound casual as his heart threatened to beat from his chest. Had she made up her mind? “Hey, Jo. What’s up?”
“I looked at your plans . . . and I’d like to discuss them. Are you busy? Can we meet?”
He glanced at Ryan, who sat a few feet away in the sand with his arms crossed, staring at the slide like it was the Antichrist. “I’m at the park with my kid, who hates me. It’s only a few blocks away. Should we come over?”
“Ryan hates you?”
“I took his electronic game thingy away and told him he needed to play outside for a change. The kid won’t let me out of his sight except when he’s at kindergarten. He’s afraid I’ll leave him like his mother did. But then when we’re together, he acts like he can’t stand my guts.”
“He’s probably just scared and confused. He’ll come around.”
“Yeah. That’s what my mom keeps telling me.”
“Well, you’re busy, so let’s talk tomorrow. When you’re done at the park, you need to elevate and ice your knee.”
So maybe she did care. “Will do. But do we have a deal, Jo? We can start tomorrow morning. It’s Saturday, the café’s closed, so say nine o’clock?”
Silence stretched out for so long, he feared their connection had been lost until she said, “We have a deal only if you agree to my three-strike rule.”
“Explain.” Jo wouldn’t make it easy on him. He liked that.
“You only get three chances to screw up, and then we’re done, but I still keep the money. You have to heed my instructions to a T. No sneaking to the gym behind my back and doing more. You’re famous for that move, but it just makes things worse. And no . . . touching. This has to stay professional.”
“Done. See you tomorrow morning at nine. My address is—”
“Shelby told me. But I’m serious, Chad. No touching!”
When she hung up on him, he smiled. She’d liked the touching as much as he had back in the day, but his rehab had to be top priority. Maybe he had a chance to get back in the game again now.
Saturday morning, Jo tapped the intercom button at one of Denver’s most exclusive downtown condo buildings. Doubts about helping Chad churned her stomach as a tinny voice rang out, “Name, please?”
“Joann Westin. I’m here to—”
Before she could finish, the locks clicked and the door opened automatically. A tall, uniformed man greeted her. “Hello, Ms. Westin. Mr. Jenks is expecting you.” He held out his hand toward her gym bag. “May I take that for you?”
So this is how the über-rich lived. Maybe she should have charged Chad more.
“No, thanks, I’ve got it.”
She followed the man to a bank of elevators. He held up a keycard. “Mr. Jenks asked me to give you a passkey. This will give you full access to the building and all our facilities, 24/7. Please allow me to demonstrate.”
Once inside the elevator, he slid her keycard in a slot, and the elevator took off.
When it dinged and the doors slid open, she stepped out and into a living room with tall ceilings and a large row of windows that displayed a killer view of downtown Denver.
“Wow.”
The guard smiled and handed her the keycard. “That’s what everyone says the first time. Enjoy your day, Ms. Westin.”
The doors slid closed, and Jo found herself all alone in the cavernous living room. Loud grinding sounds came from her right, so she walked past a huge dining room and then into the kitchen.
When she spotted a young woman barely dressed, Jo pulled up short. “Hi. Is Chad in?”
“You must be the rehab lady.” The girl, twenty-ish, yawned and stretched her arms above her head, showing off some impressive cleavage along with lots of slim, tanned flesh from below her skimpy pajama top. “He’s around somewhere. God, I need coffee.” The girl turned and flipped a switch on the espresso machine. “This thing is so damned slow!” She gave the machine a smack.
Maybe Chad didn’t do one-night stands anymore, but he had a spoiled, infant girlfriend? Nice. A guy like him could have any woman he wanted. Apparently, he was taking advantage of that. “So, um, Chad? Any ideas on how I might find him?”
The girl blinked once, as if she’d already forgotten Jo was there. “Maybe try the pool? It’s through there and out onto the roof.” She pointed the way with one of her pretty, pink manicured fingernails.
“Thanks.” Jo hefted her bag and started down a long hall. Her gut churned again with . . . what? She wasn’t jealous. She’d have to actually care for him to be that. No, it was just disgusting that he’d have a young bimbo girlfriend.
Before he’d gone wild a
fter their breakup, Chad always said he had no tolerance for that type of woman, saying he preferred having an intelligent conversation over dinner. Fame certainly had changed him. Although, she hadn’t heard or seen signs of bad-boy behavior in recent years. Maybe he’d just learned to be more discreet.
It was tempting to tell him he already had one strike against him just for the bimbo. Too bad she hadn’t added that to their rule book.
Jo opened a French door, then followed a glass walkway across the roof using the faint scent of chlorine as her guide. After passing through another door, she walked into the pool area. How had they put an Olympic-size pool on a rooftop? It made no sense.
The water in the pool was smooth as glass, and Chad was nowhere in sight. The churning of loud water jets drew her to the other end, where she found the man in question. His eyes were closed, his head resting on the side of the powerful jet tub. A frown creased his forehead.
His knee must be paining him. Probably because he’d been up half the night ravaging his barely legal girlfriend.
To pay him back for putting that image into her brain, she tapped the side of his head with her tennis shoe. “Hey. I’m not getting paid to watch you lounge. Let’s go.”
A giggle erupted behind her. In the corner sat a young boy in his PJ’s who she assumed must be Ryan. His blond head was bent over his electronic game, his thumbs engaged in a fierce battle.
“Morning.” Chad opened his eyes, reminding her what a deep, deep brown they were. Like fine aged whiskey. He smiled, then lifted his magnificent, muscled body from the tub. “Ryan, come meet Jo.”
Lord, Chad was built.
She had to look away before she drooled. She really needed to find her own man.
Ryan stood and slowly crossed over to her. “You don’t like him either?”
Chad grunted as he dried himself off with a towel. When he moved behind a half wall to remove his wet trunks, she ignored all that muscled, wet flesh and turned her attention back to the kid. “Actually, he’s paying me not to like him.”
“Can I get paid for that too?”
Jo laughed. “Maybe after you finish PT school. It’s nice to meet you, Ryan. How are you today?”
Perfectly Ms. Matched (Rocky Mountain Matchmaker Series Book 2) Page 4