First things first, she had to find the number Jon’s personal assistant had given her in case of emergency. At the moment, she could not even remember his name. She wasn’t even sure she’d kept it. When he’d given it to her, she thought she was never going to use it. Of course, finding the number was only part of the problem. What to say when she made the call—that was another problem. First, find the number. She would call tomorrow after she figured out how to explain her behavior last night. There was no doubt it would come with a huge apology. And then she would somehow ask for a donation. To pull this off, she was going to need a lot of coffee, a lot of planning, and a lot of luck.
Chapter Seven
Jon was finding it difficult to concentrate on work, as the battle between his mind and body continued. He had already lost valuable time Friday and Saturday; he could not afford to lose any more. The revisions needed to be completed within the next two and a half weeks. For most people, Sunday was a day of rest. A day you spend with family and friends. For him, it usually meant a day in the office with no interruptions. Today, he wished for an interruption that might give him something else to think about, because he found keeping his mind on work difficult if not impossible. He wasn’t about to let a little bit of chemistry with a woman interfere with his work. Who do I think I’m kidding? This wasn’t a little bit of chemistry; it was pure fire when they touched. His mind wandered back to Lizette. He’d never had a problem focusing on work. But since she’d bumped into him Friday night, he could not stop thinking of her breasts pressed against his chest, the soft silken skin of her back, and her beautiful green eyes that had darkened last night with his kiss. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of her.
Closing his computer, he said, “This is not going to work.” He needed to see her again, to hold her, touch her, kiss her. He reached for his cell phone and began dialing Matt’s number when an incoming call beeped in. It was Ross.
“Morning, Ross.”
“Hello, Jon. I’m surprised you answered your phone.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, by the looks of the pictures in the paper, you and Lizette seemed to have enjoyed yourselves yesterday. I thought maybe . . .”
“Maybe what, Ross? And what do you mean by pictures?”
“Well, I thought maybe you were too preoccupied to answer the phone.” He laughed. After Jon didn’t respond, he continued, “Let me guess . . . you’re at work on Sunday morning and have not even turned on the TV or opened a newspaper. Why am I not shocked?”
“Yes, Ross, I’m working. I have deadlines that need to be met, and I don’t have time for—”
“Deadlines, commitments—Jon, I get it. We all face similar challenges in our companies. But come on, that woman is beautiful, really beautiful. I know you’re not blind. You seemed to be enjoying her company Friday night. We thought she might help you think of something other than work for a change.”
Well, she definitely was doing that, Jon thought. “What do you mean by ‘we’? Who is ‘we’? Don’t tell me you three put Lizette up to this?”
“What? No. Well, not exactly.”
“What exactly did you do?”
“Remember back in college when the five of us used to . . . let’s say, help guide situations along?”
Jon thought back to some of the crazy stuff they had pulled on each other. Usually it was harmless pranks and bets among the five friends. Mostly it was Drew, Trent, and Brad who were the geniuses behind everything. How they never got caught was beyond him. But they had been younger then. He had no time and found no enjoyment in such things any longer. “Yes, I do. But that was a long time ago. What does that have to do with me or Lizette?”
“Well, let’s just say Drew has not lost his touch.”
“What did he do?”
“You remember the good ol’ days when we bet a couple bucks on a certain outcome? Well, let’s just say Drew just won fifty thousand dollars off of Trent. Don’t worry, as always, the money will go to charity.”
Frustration evident in his voice, Jon demanded, “Answer the fucking question. What did Drew do?”
“I am not sure exactly how he pulled it off. You know he was the master who never divulged his secrets.”
“And what did he pull off?”
“Really, Jon, you are too focused on work. Did you really believe Lizette won that raffle by chance?”
Actually, yes, Jon thought. What had he been thinking? Nothing to do with that evening had happened by chance. He wasn’t sure what part Lizette had played in this scheme, but he was going to find out. He didn’t like the thought of her being involved with his friends. Had the fire and ice all been an act, all part of a bet she’d made with his friends? It had been a long time since anyone was stupid enough to play a prank on him. His blood boiled with anger. Ross was still speaking when Jon hung up the phone. This wasn’t going to end well for Drew or Lizette.
Jon hit the button on his intercom but got no response. “Damn.” He’d forgotten it was Sunday. Matt wasn’t in the office. Grabbing his cell phone, he called Matt.
“Good morning, Mr. Vinchi,” said Matt.
“Do you still have the number for Miss Burke?”
“Yes, sir, I do, one moment while I retrieve it. And how was the date Saturday? Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Just give me the damn number, Matt.”
“Yes, sir, sorry, one more moment . . . ah, here it is.” Matt rattled off the number. “Is there any—”
Jon hung up and immediately started to dial Lizette’s number. He did not finish. What kind of answers was he going to get from her over the phone? No. This was going to have to be done in person. He dialed Matt again.
“Yes, sir, what can I—?”
“Matt, I need the helicopter ready to leave in thirty minutes.”
“Yes, sir. Will you need any other arrangements?”
“Have the car waiting for me when I arrive in Rhode Island. This is going to be a short trip so the pilot should remain on standby. Understood?”
Jon looked at his watch. It was nine thirty. He should be at her home before noon. Perfect. Settle this, then he could return back to New York and concentrate on his work—without distraction.
Chapter Eight
The doorbell rang again. She quickly jumped out of the shower, pulled on her robe, and grabbed some money off the counter. The man said forty-five minutes for delivery, not fifteen, she thought as she opened her front door. She ordered the same thing every Sunday at the same time, eleven thirty and it had never been delivered before noon before. Her hair was half in her eyes and dripping wet; she hadn’t had time to towel herself dry. Without looking at him, she handed the man at the door twenty dollars and said, “I thought it took more time to cook a pizza.” The man took the money but handed her nothing in return.
“I’m disappointed. Here I thought you answered the door half-dressed just for me.”
God, no. It can’t be. But it was.
Quickly pulling the robe tightly closed around her neck, she asked, “What are you doing here, Mr. Vinchi?”
“It’s Jon, and we have some unfinished business from last night. I’m here to talk.”
She wanted to scream, “I have nothing to say to you,” but then she recalled Ms. Manning’s words. The company and community were counting on her.
“I agree, Mr. Vinchi. I would like to apologize for my rude behavior.”
“Do you think you can invite me in first, and then we can talk?”
Looking around, she saw her neighbors staring as they walked by with their Jack Russell terrier. Now that she’d made the local news, she was sure everyone was going to be watching what she did for some time. Jon was right; they needed to talk, and she did not want others to overhear her try to explain her actions from yesterday. Which she hadn’t yet figured out how to explain. She was still on the schedule she had set this morning: plan today, call him tomorrow.
Moving so he could pass by her, she said, “Yes, of cour
se. Please come in. We can sit in the living room.”
Jon entered and went to sit in a large leather recliner near the fireplace.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“No, thank you.”
She could feel Jon’s eyes roaming over her. There was no way she was going to have this conversation with him while wearing only a robe. Even though she could see he was angry, she could also feel the sexual tension in the room. “Can you please excuse me for a few minutes while I make myself more presentable?” Without waiting for an answer, she quickly scooted away to her room. She grabbed a flowered maxi-dress out of her closet and slipped it over her head. Thank God for simplicity, she thought. Then she combed her still-wet hair and twisted it into a loose bun, fastening it with a clip at the nape of her neck. Taking a deep breath, she mustered up the courage to go back into the living room and face Jon again.
When she entered, she saw the veggie pizza she had ordered sitting on the coffee table. Jon was flipping through a photo album that usually rested on that table. She did not like the idea of him nosing around in her personal stuff. This was a visit about business, not pleasure.
Taking a seat on the couch across from Jon, she said, “Mr. Vinchi, as I was saying earlier, I would like to apologize for my behavior last night.”
“Just last night? What about Friday?”
“Friday? I don’t remember being rude on Friday. I actually think . . . ” Her tone was growing harsh. Play nice, Lizette. “I’m sorry, I don’t normally behave like that. I was just exhausted. But that really is no excuse for the way I spoke to you and treated you yesterday.” He just looked at her, not saying anything. What did he want from her? She’d apologized. “I was actually going to call you tomorrow to apologize. I didn’t want to disturb you on a Sunday after you’d had to spend the entire day with me yesterday.” Still he just sat there watching her. It was unnerving. “I don’t know what else I can say, Mr. Vinchi. I do hope you can accept my apology.”
“Are you done?” He put the album down and leaned closer to her. “The charade is over, Lizette. I already know all about it. I am not the type of person you want to play these games with. You and I both know you are not sorry. Well, let me correct that—I’m sure you’re sorry you’ve been found out and your little charade ended sooner than you thought it would. You can tell your friend this game is over. Understood?”
Game? She wouldn’t call groveling and begging for forgiveness so he’ll sponsor her company with a large donation a game. And how did he find out? She’d never gotten to ask him to sponsor Another Chance. He hadn’t given her the opportunity. Maybe he bugged her phone or something. Nothing would surprise her. That’s the way these corporate giants did things. Take what you want and discard it when it is no longer useful. She was sure the Date of Your Dreams was just a publicity stunt. He’d got what he wanted. She wasn’t going to give up on getting what Another Chance needed without a fight.
“Mr. Vinchi, I know you are upset with me. Friday was my first time. I am not used to doing this, but there is no one to blame but me.”
“Lizette, I don’t believe in coincidences. I should have known when you ‘bumped’ into me something was up. And yet you say that was your first time? Well, you really had me fooled. And the dinner at Ma’s house—very impressive, Lizette. Now I understand why you didn’t want us to get to know each other better. What I don’t understand is, what do you get out of this? What were you promised, and just how far were you willing to go to get it?”
“I don’t personally get anything out of this. As I said, I did not do this for me. It’s my job.”
“Do you work for Drew?”
“Drew? I don’t know who Drew is. My boss is Ms. Manning, Ms. Elaine Manning. As I told you Friday night, I work for Another Chance.”
“How do you know Drew?” he demanded.
“I already told you, I don’t know any Drew,” she said, her voice also rising.
Once again Jon just stared at her, analyzing her.
“I’m not sure what you think is going on here, but I assure you Ms. Manning runs a very respectable company. When she asked me to speak to you about becoming a sponsor for the agency, I had no idea you would have been so opposed to the idea. I mean, you attended the event Friday night. And then, after helping us at the park, I thought you were different, that you might want to help us, help the community. But evidently I was wrong. You are exactly what I thought you were.”
“What are you talking about, Lizette?”
“I am talking about asking you for a donation, asking if Vinchi Medical Engineering would be willing to sponsor Another Chance. You said you knew what this was about. We are in dire need of financial assistance, and if we do not find any, we will be forced to close our doors. People will not only lose their jobs, but we’ll be leaving the community without any support. I understand you are upset with me. I was rude, and I have not given you any reason to trust me, but I beg you, please at least speak to Ms. Manning before making your final decision.”
“So you did not plan all this with Drew?”
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I don’t know a Drew. I don’t know what you think I planned with Drew. Ms. Manning was sick so I filled in for her at the last minute on Friday. The rest you were there for.”
The silence hung between them until finally Jon said in a softer, less threatening tone, “Maybe we can start today over?”
Lizette nodded.
Jon extended his right hand. “Hello, I am Jon Vinchi. I was hoping you were free for lunch.”
“I am.” The now-cold pizza on the table was a dead giveaway she was free. Lizette looked at him, trying to sort through the last hour. She was so confused, but for now, she saw a glimmer of hope that all was not lost. “Would you care to join me?” She opened the pizza box to reveal a fully loaded veggie lover’s pizza. Her favorite. “I’d hate for this to go to waste. Do you mind cold pizza?”
“Sounds great.”
He got up from his chair and joined her on the couch.
“Can I get you something cold to drink? Soda? Water? Beer?”
“Beer would be great.”
As they sat on the couch eating pizza and enjoying their beer, he asked questions about the pictures he had viewed in the album. Most of them had been taken at what was once her parents’ store.
“Lizette, tell me about the pharmacy. From your album, it looks like you practically lived there.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Ma mentioned that your parents owned it.”
“Yes, until they were swallowed up by a giant corporation not interested in a family-run business. Now my parents’ pharmacy is no more.”
She sat quietly. This was not a discussion she wanted to have with Jon. He was one of the giant companies. He couldn’t understand how she felt.
“There must be more to it than that.”
“That is all I want to say about it. It’s not something I like talking about.”
“Okay, so tell me something else about yourself.”
“There’s really not much to know.”
“Ma mentioned you’re gifted with numbers. If you are so good, why work for a not-for-profit? If you really are that good, I’m sure you could get another job. I would be happy to refer you to a couple companies where you could double or triple what you’re earning now.”
“I don’t work there for the money. I work there because I believe in what they’re trying to do. I see the difference they make every day in the community. Not everything is about money.”
“It takes money to run a business.”
“Yes, it takes money to run a business, I won’t deny that, but money is only one part. It also takes dedication and time from volunteers. You need someone to be out there, to physically do the work. Giving money is the easy way out. The day-to-day commitment to making a difference is what gets things done.”
“Ouch, not a great sales pitch when you’re looking for a sponsor.”
Shit. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. We do need your sponsorship badly. I wasn’t trying to make light of the importance of financial support. I was just trying to explain that it’s just one piece, not the whole picture. I’m a bit passionate about what we do.”
“I get it, Lizette.”
“So do you think you can help us? Will you sponsor Another Chance?”
He finished his beer and said, “I am sure you will understand I need to research this further before I commit to anything. You will have my answer by the end of the day on Friday.”
Oh, God, is this a good or bad sign? He’s rich, what is there to think about? Just say yes. It’s peanuts to a guy like him. Probably spends more than what we need on suits. But he held all the cards; if she pushed him for an answer now, he might say no. She nodded her agreement.
“I need to get back to the office. Matt, my assistant, will be in touch.” He rose and headed for the door. She followed closely behind. “Thank you for the pizza and beer.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Next time, I take you out.” He smiled, then leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss, his lips barely touching hers briefly. She didn’t even closed her eyes. Her mind was spinning as he opened the door and left her standing there, staring after him, wondering, What if? She touched her lips to savor the kiss, then closed the door thinking, Next time?
She stood at the door for what felt like eternity, savoring the kiss. There was a knock on the door. Maybe he had made his decision faster than he’d expected. She opened the door. “Did you forget something?” she asked.
“Do you already have plans for today?”
“No. No, I don’t.” Well, nothing that can’t wait.
“Good. I was hoping you would have dinner with me.”
Dinner? We just had lunch about two hours ago. But okay. Maybe he wants to continue discussing the sponsorship. “Yes, I would like that. I could recommend someplace local if you like Italian food,” she offered.
The Billionaire's Secret (Betting on You Series: Book One) Page 7