by Landra Graf
His partner smiled, a sarcastic thing. “Well put, and is this thanks to the magic pussy you got to sink into or because she’s in distress? With you, I never can—”
Dev didn’t let him finish. No, he clocked him with the same fist he’d used on the desk. He vaguely heard a door open behind them, followed by a clearing throat. Mark’s chair leaned back on impact and now rocked forward with a small squeak.
“Sorry to interrupt your boxing session, but I just received the strangest phone call,” Victoria said from the door.
“Who?” Dev didn’t take his eyes off Mark. Nope, he let the full force of his anger burn through his facial expression.
“Some guy named Daniel from a local paper. He wanted to know if I cared to elaborate on the allegations that my place of employment was a high-end escort service. There were a few other horrible things mentioned, but I hung up without a comment. Should I be worried?” The fact the tone of her voice hadn’t changed from calm and collected to freaked-out demonstrated not only her faith in him but her unflappable composure.
“Let me follow up on it. No sense in worrying when it’s probably another bogus reporter looking for some sensational story, all right?” Dev wouldn’t mention the real possibility of Pru pulling a stunt to oust him. No, at this point it’d be better to keep everyone calm and hope for the best.
“I’ll let you handle it then, and I’ll leave you two to your exercise.” The door shut behind her, the audible click of the door latch his cue.
“I’ll see you next Friday for the board meeting. Otherwise, shut the fuck up, and I’d burn that contract. Consider this your final warning. I listen to you disrespect everyone, be negative, and generally act like an asshole on a daily basis. Disrespecting Kat and talking about her in a crude manner is the line for me. From here on out, it’s work and only work between us. If you weren’t my partner, I’d fire you.”
Mark held onto his jaw, massaging it gently as he scowled. “That fucking hurt.”
“Insult your cousin or me again, and there’s more where that came from.”
“All right, but even if I wanted to, I couldn’t help her. I don’t have the money. My savings are invested; you know this.”
Dev wanted to slug him again but settled for slamming the door behind him as he left. The asshole never intended to pay her from the start. How to make this up to Kat? How to fix it? At the moment, he didn’t know.
19
It had been five days since Kat had seen Dev. They’d parted Sunday, and she’d done her best to stay normal, focusing on work and all the other shit she needed to do. The whole week passed with only a few text messages, basic conversation really, with no heartfelt declarations, dirty messages, or confirmations of when she’d see him again.
Today, she worked from home, waiting for the contractor to show up to finish the work in the kitchen with the insulation and sheet rock. She clicked and clacked away at her computer, putting the final touches on a logistics sheet for some upcoming laundry soap event. Then she sighed, removing her hands from the keyboard and placing them against her head. No use.
Dev wandered back into her mind regardless of what she did; every stray thought brought a memory to the surface. There were his kind and caring ways, like opening doors and getting her a drink refill from her kitchen before the glass was empty. How he didn’t blame her for the contract with Mark. According to him, she’d been put in a hard place. The option she’d chosen was the lesser of two evils.
Then they’d bonded over action movies and Chinese takeout. The whole weekend had given her a taste of perfection, of life with someone worth spending it with. She’d become a damn sap.
In fact, outside of the scheduled contractor, she’d heard nothing. No words from the city or Purple People Eater meant she had an opportunity to go on the offensive. The likelihood of Mark giving up the money to her became less practical the more she thought about it and with each passing hour. She picked up the phone and dialed Colton’s office. Time for her to stop waiting around for her knight in shining armor to show up at the door.
“Hello, Mr. Kinyon’s office. How may I help you?”
“Can I speak with Colton please, my name is Kat. You can tell him we met at the Beautification Board dinner a few nights ago.”
The secretary cleared her throat, “I apologize, but Mr. Kinyon is unavailable right now. Would you like to leave a message?”
The runaround, something she’d become familiar with. “No, let me just set up a meeting for next week. Monday, afternoon?”
“I’m afraid his schedule is full; the best I can do for you is take a message.” The firm, disapproving sound in her voice gave Kat the impression this lady thought her call involved a sales pitch. Thanks, but no thanks. The last thing she’d be interested in is selling.
“A message will work. Tell him I’d like to discuss my house some more and getting it removed from the project. Let him know I am not giving up, and here’s my number.”
She recited off the ten digits and enjoyed the way the secretary’s dismissive tone became a tiny bit more subdued. “I’ll make sure he gets the message. Have a nice day.”
The connection ended, and she tried to refocus on the work while fighting the urge to text Dev and ask how things had gone with Mark. Did Dev get her cousin to give him the money? A million questions had come and gone in the last few days, the worst being guilt-ridden ones wondering if Dev had experienced discomfort in confronting her cousin.
She should’ve done the hard work instead of sending him to do it. The funny thing was, Dev had wanted to do it. He’d practically promised he’d get the money from Mark—not officially a promise, but pretty damn close. He’d heavily implied she’d have what she needed, made silent commitments and verbal ones. Non-verbal commitments were also implied, but on another level.
They hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other. Like magnetic attraction, touching grew into sex multiple times over. She’d woken on Monday a properly satisfied woman. Her natural glow drew attention from her friends, Ana being the first to call it out, and Betty giving a sly grin with a wink. Betty had cornered her yesterday threatening bodily harm if she didn’t get the details soon.
A knock sounded at the front door, and she went scrambling to get it. Could be the contractor or Dev. She tamped down the bit hoping for Dev as ridiculous bullshit. She needed to stop fantasizing for more than what she’d already gotten. Of course, her hired help stood on the stoop, smiling with his sandy-blond hair, white T-shirt, and jeans. He looked adorable in that cute, want-to-pat-your-head way. She’d taken to internally addressing him as Sandy because she could, and his name escaped her every time she’d tried to recall it.
He bracketed both hands on his tool belt, slung around his waist. “Good afternoon, ma’am.”
“Afternoon.” So polite, she liked that.
“I came over to finish the kitchen today, if you still want me to.”
She nodded, damn tired of her kitchen looking like a Tasmanian devil had whirled through.
“Wonderful. Before I get started, my boss wanted me to make sure I get the next payment from you.”
“We originally agreed on me having it by Friday.” Dread bubbled up inside her; she didn’t have the two thousand yet. Nope, she’d spent everything Mark had given her from before. The last of it had paid for all the materials for the kitchen and the paint and spackle to fix all the holes left by the electrician across the other rooms. Shit.
“I understand.” Sandy ran a hand through those loose locks of his. “But if I don’t receive the payment from you today, I can’t finish the work. At least, that’s what I was told.”
“What happened to a job well done first? I mean seriously, you want me to pay for services I haven’t received. You could drop dead in there, and then, who will do it?” She tried to sound outraged, offended, and summoned all her anger at the situation, even though she had no room to talk.
Sandy frowned. “I apologize, but my boss is alre
ady giving you this work at a discount, and how do we know you won’t skip out on payment? It works both ways. Now, will you cut the check, or should we postpone?”
Sandy had claws, motherfucker. “I’ll have to postpone. Can you come back on Monday?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll let my boss know, and he’ll get back with you.” He had a mulish look and turned around, stomping off to his truck. Southern gentlemen were polite until pissed off.
Kat thought about offering farewell salutations, but instead she shut the door and slumped against it. The deadline on the house inspection was only a couple weeks away. She’d never get this work done without the money. Maybe Dev knew some contractors who’d work for beer and pizza. Paying for food and alcohol was the best she could do under the circumstances.
She should’ve offered the same to Sandy. She stayed there, sliding to the floor, her brain searching for a solution, anything not involving dancing naked on a stage or begging folks for help. For a brief second, she contemplated one of those sad, sob-story posts on a fundraiser website. The problem was saving a house didn’t compare to those with medical bills or in need of paying for a funeral for a loved one. There were a million better causes than helping poor her find a way to finish code updates on an ancient home.
The phone in her hand rang and vibrated. She picked up without a second thought or checking the caller ID, ready for something, anything to distract her. “Hello, Kathleen speaking.”
“Hello, this is Daniel from the Arkansas Morning News, is this Kathleen Baum?”
“Maybe, depends on what you want.” She didn’t read the news, nor did she want to be a part of it, but silently she hoped for bad press on the Beautification Project.
“I’m doing a piece on Bona Fide Image Consulting, an investigative piece into the allegations about the head consultant sleeping with his clients. Your name has been brought to my attention. Would you be interested in answering some questions about your relationship with Devid Esposito?”
Kat ended the call with a press of a button and no verbal response. Not the distraction she’d been looking for. At all. She wondered if Dev knew; if he had any clue about the article coming his way or any idea of who had gotten such a thing started. The urge to warn him, to save him, came without effort. She thought about calling the reporter back, giving a positive interview, but the risk of the fool spinning her words was too much of a possibility. The phone rang again, and this time, she decided to tell the asshole off, to give him what for.
“Now, listen here, Daniel from the Arkansas Morning News, I don’t know where you get your story ideas from, but you might want to double-check your sources. I hear the going verdict on libel cases usually awards the victim and not the publisher.”
“Really?” An unexpected voice filtered through the phone. “I’ll have to remember that next time Daniel decides to publish something unflattering. This is Kat, right?”
Fuck. She’d told off the wrong man. “This is.”
“Colton Kinyon. My secretary gave me your message, and I had a spare minute. When you launched into your rant, a piece of beauty, by the way, I figured I was talking to the right person. You’re fantastic when you get fired up about something, you know that?”
“Thank you, I guess.” She shook off the compliment. Seemed he flirted on the phone as much as he did in person. “What can I help you with?”
“Actually, I believe you wanted my help to discuss your home and its place with the Beautification Board, correct?”
Holy shit, the bad luck was finally spinning in the opposite direction. Maybe good-thought karma existed. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Good. Would you like to meet for dinner and discuss?” His voice, a few months ago, would have been temptation all on its own. Now she only granted access to her personal time and body to one man.
“If that’s the only choice I have, fine, but I’d prefer to keep this professional, Mr. Kinyon. My house is at risk, but I won’t sell myself to save it.”
“You don’t ever mince words, do you?”
“I think you became familiar with my brand of speech when we met the other night.”
He laughed, the deep bass echoing through the receiver. “It’s not the only option, but a man has got to try to get a beautiful woman to go to dinner with him now and then. I want to put you in front of the entire board, with the exception of Pru. She appears to be a little prejudiced toward you, and I’d like everyone to hear your side of things before we get her involved with a decision. Does that sound fair?”
The heavens were opening up, rainbows pouring down, and birds singing merry tunes. “It sounds more than fair.”
“Great, I’ll need you to come to my office in a week. We’ll have the meeting at one o’clock in the afternoon. You’ll get exactly thirty minutes to speak to them and plead your case. If they like what you have to say, we’ll work on getting the code enforcement department to back off.”
“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Kinyon.”
“You could call me Colton and let me take you to dinner.”
Her turn to chuckle. “I’m flattered, but still have to decline.”
She wanted to tap dance, to jump up from her position on the floor, put on her heels, and tap out a celebration. “Is there anything I need to bring?”
“Yourself and whatever information you want to present that you think will persuade them. Show us why your house should be excluded, why it’s not as important as all the other homes we’re renovating. Because I’ll be honest, I still want to fix your house.”
“But not under my terms?” The past forty-eight hours she’d been leaning toward attempting to renegotiate the original agreement because Colton was right. The house needed to be updated or at least get some work completed to ensure it survived another hundred years. The Beautification Board seemed the easiest way to ensure success in that corner, especially if Mark didn’t pony up the money.
“I don’t know. What are your terms?” Colton asked.
The statement gave her hope, and she silently prayed no hope-sucking monster would try to steal this one piece of glimmering light, one chance at securing her gran’s wish. “You will hear all of them at the meeting next week.”
“I look forward to it. And, Kat?”
“Yes.”
“Feel free to call me anytime, if you change your mind about dinner. My secretary will email you an invite for the meeting.” The man switched hats with ease, blending business and pleasure, and it bothered her that he’d gained access to all her information. She’d only left a message with her home number.
“How do you have my email?”
“My secretary works magic,” he said with a laugh. “Goodbye, until next week.”
“Goodbye.” She hung up the phone, not certain if she should be weirded out by his confession of a magic secretary or grateful for not having to be responsible for getting any information to him. Standing up, she pumped both fists in the air, celebrating the momentary triumph. She’d done it, somehow, without having to put forth any real effort, and Mr. Kinyon had come through for her. A foreign concept, people doing the right thing. If this kept up, she’d start looking for flying pigs.
She had a week to get a presentation together and convince a room full of old men to let her keep her home. If ever she needed Dev it would’ve been now, but this battle she needed to win for herself.
The article came out on Saturday morning. A shock-and-awe piece that was less-than-flattering. Dev found himself thankful for the small favors, including the fact that Kat’s name had remained out of the article. Regardless, he couldn’t put off seeing her anymore, not that he’d refrained from coming over on purpose. In fact, he’d spent the week trying to solve both of their problems. He knocked on her front door, waited for the telltale signs of acknowledgment, the sound of footsteps on her wood floor or the snick of the dead bolt being unlocked.
Kat’s facial expression, the sad eyes and half-smile, half-grimace turn of her lips, told h
im she’d read the article. “Dev, I’m sorry.”
Her arms spread wide, and he entered them, seeking the comfort he’d become addicted to. Her scent enveloped him, and he savored the long seconds that he got to hold her in his arms. The urge to be a provider of good news was defeated by the defaming publishing piece and the fact he’d have to disappoint this woman who deserved so much more. He’d take this momentary peace, this chance to bask in what might be in their future, after he’d fixed all these ridiculous problems.
To prepare for this visit, he’d donned his dark suit of armor and polished shoes and left his hair down. When she finally pulled back, interlocking her arms with his, he couldn’t stop his body from becoming aroused at her visual perusal. She smiled then, a wide grin full of happiness that he couldn’t reflect back to her. There would be no saving the day, no sexual romps, and no more getting lost in what they could be. Instead, he let his face possess the seriousness of a pallbearer and separated himself completely from her embrace.
“What’s going on?”
The worst thing ever. “Can I come in?”
She threw the door wide and stepped back. As he passed, she reached out and touched his arm. That’s all it took, and he gave in to renewing their embrace. He shut the door, and then he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was incendiary, like a spark to a pile of paper, burning hot and fast. While, it was great to find comfort in one another, to let his frustrations melt away beneath her touch, they needed to talk. Communication was preferable to locking up all the bad things they were going through and throwing the key away. She broke the connection first, and his stomach knotted up at the light in her eyes. A light he’d put there, one he’d have to extinguish.
“Before things get out of control, tell me what’s wrong?”
He sighed. “Mark doesn’t have any money, and I can’t see you anymore.”
The week had been hellacious, super busy, and he’d been fielding emails from board members at random intervals over the last couple days. They wanted to know more and expected Dev to explain himself at the investor meeting next Friday.