Worth the Trouble (St. James #2)

by Jamie Beck

  Drawing a deep breath, Cat launched into her idea about working with Hank, explaining her vision of splitting the products into two lines. When she finished, she crossed her legs to keep her knee from bouncing.

  “I see. And how do you plan to finance this venture—loans, investors?”

  “I have money.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “I know you have money, but surely you don’t intend to invest a substantial portion of your personal wealth on a risky start-up. Do you even have any idea of the costs associated with something of this scale?”

  “Not yet. That’s why I’m here talking to you. I want you to help outline what I need to research in order to make this all work.”

  David tossed his pen on the paper. “Cat, I’m not an expert in the furniture industry.”

  “But you work with a zillion corporations, doing all their legal work. You know about business law and financing, so you must know the basics. Aren’t you the super genius of the family?” She huffed. “If you can’t or won’t help, then I’ll find someone else who will.”

  David pressed two fingers to his temple. “I don’t want to crush your dreams, but I think you’re being impulsive and getting in over your head.”

  “Oh? So, unlike you, I’m not smart enough to learn? Unlike Jackson, I can’t work hard enough to succeed. I should simply resign myself to dressing up for the camera?” She intended her sharp tone to cover any trace of self-doubt. Trace? Ha! More like piles.

  “I didn’t mean it like that, Cat. But you can’t deny your impetuous history. I’m not convinced you’ve really thought this through. And speaking of Jackson, how will he react when you steal Hank from his crew? His erratic behavior is concerning enough without you throwing another monkey wrench into his situation.”

  “Jackson doesn’t own Hank. If Hank wants to quit, that’s his right.” Cat shot out of her chair and grabbed her purse. Pride urged her to fight, to cling to Hank’s faith in her abilities, to refuse to allow David to get in her head.

  “Where are you going?” David stood, too.

  “Apparently you’re not interested in helping me. You don’t have to believe in me, but I won’t sit here while you try to convince me to give up.” She looked at the ground, shaking her head. “Honestly, if this is how you treat all your clients, I can’t believe you made partner so young.”

  “Sit down, Cat.” David sat and gestured toward the chair. “I’m sorry. Let’s start again.”

  Cat paused before taking her seat again.

  “Before I get to the details you’re looking for, tell me why this is so imperative. It seems hasty, your newfound entrepreneurial interest. I’d assumed that, once you’d moved into your new place, you’d start living your life again. Instead you’ve been avoiding social engagements and sticking closer to home than usual. Vivi’s been concerned, too. Is it possible that you’re pursuing this idea as a way of avoiding thinking about Justin, or dating, or whatever?”

  She knew her brother well enough to know he didn’t mean to insult her. Sincere concern must be behind his bluntness. However, she hadn’t yet told her family about her diagnosis, and she wasn’t about to discuss it with David here and now.

  That would only convince him that she’d latched on to this business idea to avoid the pain of dealing with her new reality. Maybe it had started that way, but now she had several reasons—including genuine interest—to pursue this venture.

  “Please stop bringing up Justin. Part of the reason I can’t get beyond what happened is because everyone’s always bringing it up. And besides, I’ve already told you, my agent’s advising me to explore career alternatives. After seeing the table Hank built for you and Vivi, as well as his other work, I got excited.”

  David leaned forward. “Why do I feel like you’re withholding something?”

  Because you’re too freakin’ perceptive? Regardless, David didn’t need to know about her diagnosis to do his job. Covering, she said, “You’ve got a suspicious nature?”

  “Fine, don’t tell me, but don’t think you’ve pulled something over on me, either.” He quirked a brief smile. “If Hank’s going to be your partner, why isn’t he here? I’m sure he’s knowledgeable about certain facts I need in order to best advise you.”

  Cat wrinkled her nose. “Well, he’s not fully onboard yet. Like you, he thinks we’ve got a lot of homework to do before he can quit Jackson’s payroll. His mom’s very ill. She and his youngest sister depend on his support, which is why I need to find a way to minimize the risks.”

  “Sis, without Hank’s enthusiastic buy-in, it sounds like you’re setting yourself up for a major disappointment.” His gaze softened with his tone. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “Which brings us back to why I’m here. I need to get the information together to prove this is something he and I can do together. So please humor me for the next forty minutes. I swear I’ll consider all your advice and won’t do anything rash or stupid.”

  David sighed and picked up his pen. “Let’s discuss the pros and cons of different entity structures, then we can explore various sources of financing that might be available, and perhaps we can even do a little digging into some industry-specific issues before my next appointment. But I cannot, in good conscience, advise you to move forward with any of this until you’ve done the due diligence to understand as much about this industry as possible before you making any commitments.”

  “That’s all I’m asking.” Cat frowned. “Well, that and to keep quiet about this until Hank does agree. I don’t want to stir up trouble between him and Jackson.”

  David cast her an incredulous look. “I think we both know that can’t be avoided if you move forward with these plans.”

  “One step at a time, David.” She scooted her chair closer to the desk, determined to prove to her brother and everyone else that she could succeed. At that moment she realized nothing had ever been so important.

  Mom,

  This week I’ve caught myself fantasizing about having a normal, healthy relationship. Imagine that! Seems that Justin hasn’t completely destroyed my faith in all men after all. Of course, that scares the pants off me, so I’ve been avoiding Hank. I wish I’d never gone to the doctor. If I didn’t know about my condition, I could be free to be with Hank—honestly and without guilt.

  But wishes and fairy tales are for little girls, not aging, barren ones like me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Hank had been counting: minutes, hours, and now days since he’d made love with Cat. Just the memory of touching her—of being touched—set off a series of shivers. Yet in the six days since they’d first gotten together, she’d been keeping herself exceedingly busy. Unavailable, in fact. She’d whet his appetite, then spent the rest of the week running around Manhattan on “appointments.”

  She’d pass him in her apartment, compliment his progress on her armoire, then toss him a smile and dash out the door. Making a serious dent in her project had been the only upside to her absence. Too bad the progress he most wanted to make had nothing to do with construction.

  This morning he’d met with Jackson in Wilton until eleven, which left him only a few hours to work at Cat’s in the afternoon. All week he’d run ragged, back and forth to Manhattan, juggling his work and his family. When he’d finally get home, he’d find Jenny at her wit’s end, incapable of dealing with his mom’s increasingly difficult behavior.

  He needed a break, but first he hoped to squeeze in an early dinner and more with Cat. Of course, he suspected she had some big-city plans of her own. His grand plan to woo her into a real relationship had stalled out before it even got started.

  He knocked before unlocking Cat’s front door, then entered her apartment with his key.

  “Hi!” Cat greeted him with a kiss—on the damn cheek—and then gestured toward another woman. “Hank, this is Melissa.”

  “Melissa, nice to meet you.” He shook her hand. Apparently Cat had already made other plans for her afternoon, as
he’d guessed. Plans that didn’t include him. “Sorry to interrupt you ladies. I’ll head to the bedroom and get out of your hair.”

  “Not so fast!” Cat grasped his forearm. “I’ve actually brought Melissa here as a surprise for you.”

  “Huh?” A couple of crazy scenarios raced through his mind, none of which made any sense.

  “She’s my absolute favorite masseuse, but today she’s all yours. Follow her back to the guest room and prepare for the best ninety minutes of your life.”

  Melissa grinned while Cat beamed, so he hated to douse them both with a dose of reality. “Cat, in case you forgot, I’ve got a schedule to keep.”

  “No one’s going to die if my project takes an extra day or two. This is a little treat for you. A bit of the pampering you never allow yourself.”

  “I promise I won’t bite.” Melissa joked, apparently noticing his discomfort.

  He scratched his head. “Melissa, I don’t want you to have wasted your time by coming, so how about Cat takes the appointment and I get to work?”

  “Good grief, Hank. I really want you to do this. Or, more honestly, I want to do this for you. Please.” Cat set her hands on her hips, clearly growing agitated with his reluctance.

  “Guess I don’t have a choice.” He raised his hands in surrender. “Lead the way, Melissa.”

  As he followed her down the hall, he glanced over his shoulder at Cat. With a self-satisfied wave, she said, “I’m going to visit Esther. See you later.”

  In the guest room, a scented candle burned on the nightstand. The lights were off and shades drawn, so only the bit of daylight coming through the sides of the blinds lit the room. Although he’d much rather get an unprofessional massage from Cat than an official one from Melissa, he kept his trap shut.

  His little temptress kept him guessing, as always. But he couldn’t deny the way her thoughtful gesture wrapped around his heart like one of his nephew’s full-body hugs. Just as loving, too, even if she wouldn’t ever admit to it.

  “I’ll step outside while you undress. Then lie facedown on the table.” Melissa turned to go, but then said, “Feel free to pull that sheet over yourself and I’ll rearrange it once I come back in.”

  Ninety minutes later, Melissa left him alone after mentioning that Cat had said he could use her shower before he got dressed. Neither his body nor his muscles had ever been so relaxed. In fact, he doubted he could lift his limbs, and didn’t even want to try. The lavender aroma, the quietude, the absence of tightness in his neck and shoulders—Cat had been right. Ninety minutes of bliss.

  After indulging another few moments of utter contentedness, he forced himself to slide off the table, pick up his clothes, and duck into the guest bathroom. By the time he’d cleaned up and dressed, Melissa and her heavenly table were gone.

  He meandered down the hall to the living room to thank Cat for her thoughtful, generous gift. He found her arranging flowers amid several lit candles. Her smile worked over his heart like Melissa’s hands had worked over his body.

  “Was I right?” The told-you-so expression on her face made him chuckle.

  “Yeah, you were.” He glanced around, wondering if this little intimate setting was meant for him, or if she had other plans. A small plate of chocolate-chip-and-walnut cookies sat on the table. “You baked?”

  “God, no. Esther did. Eat them all . . . please.”

  He took two because they looked like something straight out of a cookbook. Tasted even better. “Thanks for the massage, Cat. You were right; it was awesome. Not sure how I’ll get anything done now that my arms feel like overcooked spaghetti.”

  “Never fear. There’s work to do that doesn’t involve saws or sandpaper.”

  “Oh?”

  She poured beer into a chilled glass, handed it to him, then pointed at the sofa. “Sit, please.”

  At least she tempered her high-handedness with good manners. The more he got to know her, the more he realized her bossiness grew out of enthusiasm rather than a genuine need for control.

  She lifted a notebook from her bag and took a seat beside him. If he tackled her on the sofa, could he seduce her into submission?

  “I’ve done a bunch of research and have some ideas of how we can give this business a try without breaking the bank or putting you at too much risk.” She smiled, unaware of his self-restraint. “Ready to listen?”

  He nearly spit out his beer as her plans became more transparent. Flashing a smile of admiration, he shook his head in defeat. “Oh, you’re good. Got me all buttered up so I’m too relaxed to object, didn’t you?”

  “Not at all!” She slapped his thigh. “I’ve been thinking about that massage since I first mentioned it weeks ago. One has nothing to do with the other. Besides, you’ve already promised to hear me out if I agreed to your conditions, which I have.”

  He nodded in silence, although he’d wanted to revisit that second condition again. Now, even.

  “After talking with David, I think forming a limited liability company would be best because it gives us the protection of a corporation with the tax advantages of a partnership. If we set it up fifty-fifty, I’ll put up the initial capital, and you contribute sweat equity. Both of our financial risk is basically limited to what we put in. Does that sound fair?”

  He nodded, surprised to learn she’d sought David’s opinion. Heck, he hadn’t even given real thought to how he’d tell his family, or Jackson. It seemed premature at this point, but apparently Cat didn’t agree. “Will David talk to Jackson about this before we make a decision?”

  “No. Client confidentiality and all that stuff. And he’d never stir up trouble, especially when we haven’t committed to anything.” Her gaze turned sober. “But we will soon.”

  Hank scratched the back of his head, uncomfortable thinking about leaving Jackson with a lesser-trained crew than he’d really need. Plus, starting a business meant he’d be spending even less time at home, which put Jenny under more pressure. Would that affect her schoolwork?

  The cookies that had tasted so good going down now settled like stones in his gut.

  “Anyway, I also found a flexible, inexpensive solution to the space and equipment problems. There are co-op spaces where you rent a small work area and share a common equipment room. It’s a perfect way to get started without having to rent a big facility or invest in a bunch of equipment. There are a few in Brooklyn, but I did find one up in Connecticut, not too far from Norwalk.”

  He sat forward, suddenly curious. “How much?”

  “Reasonable rates, and available for short-term leasing. So, for example we could start with a three-month lease and see how it works out.”

  For the first time since she’d come up with this whole idea, it didn’t seem completely impossible.

  “Go on.” He chugged more of his beer, his body now strung with cautious enthusiasm and a healthy dose of admiration for the courageous, headstrong woman to his right.

  She smiled and flipped the page. “There are a couple of traditional ways to get noticed, like submitting designs in competitions for awards, and attending design trade shows. There’s a big furniture expo in Chicago in a few weeks. I know it’s totally last minute, but I might be able to press a personal contact to squeeze us into a small exhibit room. I can set up a website on WordPress for practically nothing, and Vivi volunteered to shoot photos for free. Naturally, I’d use my social media platforms to drive traffic to our site.”

  “I doubt the horny guys who follow you are interested in buying fine furniture.” He chuckled when her mouth fell open.

  “I have a lot of female followers. And aside from them and my personal network of celebrity friends, I’m thinking we could target boutique retail owners, maybe small offices with nice reception rooms, and so on. We could open with a line of tables: end tables, coffee tables, dining tables. You could design two of each that we’d showcase. Perhaps we could do privately commissioned pieces in time, too. An informal survey of a few friends revealed one w
ho spent twenty-six grand on a custom-built dining table, and hers doesn’t look anywhere near as unique as yours.”

  Hell, he’d been so busy working to make ends meet, he’d never taken the time to investigate the kind of money he might be able to make building furniture. Then again, without Cat’s reach, he wouldn’t have personal access to super-rich folks, either.

  It struck him then. Here he sat, next to his fantasy woman, who’d taken it upon herself to make his dreams come true. Even if it never happened, he was grateful for her enthusiasm. She’d reminded him that his life could be more than a string of obligations. That maybe duties and dreams didn’t have to be mutually exclusive.

  It’d been close to fourteen years since he’d felt that way. If it ended up being the only thing he took away from this relationship, it would be enough. Well, maybe not, but it would be something he’d always appreciate.

  “I’m impressed, Cat. This is a lot of information in a short time. Still, I’m not loving you footing the bill. Also, you didn’t mention anything about income. Then there’s Jackson. I hate to leave him high and dry.”

  “If we start slow, you can keep working for Jackson and build stuff at night and on weekends. As far as money goes, we can charge fifty-percent deposits to help generate a little up-front income.”

  “Working at night might be a problem. I’ve got my mom to deal with, and Jenny takes night classes. Apparently my mom’s been more irritable since I started working here and spending less time at home.”

  Cat set her notebook aside and sighed. “You’re incredibly committed to your family. But don’t you deserve something of your own, too?”

  “I do. But, unlike my mom, I’ve got time later. She’s had a tough life. Widowed very young, and started losing her memory not long afterward. I don’t want her to feel like she’s lost me, too.”

  Cat nodded thoughtfully, possibly considering his feelings, or maybe thinking of her own mother.