Worth the Trouble (St. James #2)

by Jamie Beck

“I wish I could help with that.”

  “You’re contributing all the talent. Without you, there’s no business, so stop feeling bad. After Vivi and I get the pictures we need, I’ll get the website up and running and start chatting on my social media. I’ll also get a brochure made. Did you check out the co-op space? I’m ready to send a check if you’re all set.”

  “I ran out on Sunday and took a look. They’ve got some great equipment. Seems pretty relaxed and friendly.”

  “So we’ll sign a short-term lease and send a check.” Cat added another item to her to-do list. “By the way, I was able to pull a few strings and nab a little showroom space at that international furniture expo in Chicago next month, which could give us exposure to fifty thousand design professionals. We can take the table you built for Vivi and some of your other pieces to showcase your talent. It’s a gamble to rush like this, but another opportunity of this scale won’t come around until next year.”

  Hank settled his hand on her thigh and rubbed his thumb back and forth. “If I haven’t said it before, thanks. I know I’ve been reluctant, but I’m grateful for this opportunity. I hope I don’t let you down.”

  “You won’t. Let everyone doubt us. We can’t fail. You’re too talented, and I’m too determined. We’re in this together now.” Of course, she’d never tackled anything so far from her limited area of expertise.

  She might not have utter faith in love, but she did have faith in him. And his faith in her gave her confidence.

  “I did some prototype drawings.” When he handed her the drawings, he brushed his fingers against hers, which made her consider tossing aside work and dragging him to bed. “But before we barrel ahead, I want to talk more about your idea of churning out a few products over and over . . . I’ve got issues.”

  Before he could continue, her phone rang.

  “Hold that thought.” She looked at the screen and then at Hank. “It’s my agent. Need to take it.”

  Hank nodded and sat back.

  “Hey, Elise. What’s up?”

  “I think I’ve found a great licensing opportunity for you. It’s not clothing or beauty products, but it works nicely with your reputation for elegance and good taste. Are you familiar with Elena Bautista’s jewelry? She works mostly with eighteen- and twenty-four-carat gold and semiprecious stones. Very contemporary, feminine style—akin to Marco Bicego’s work. I think it’s a perfect fit, and she was more than a little excited about designing a line under your name.”

  “Oh? That does sound interesting, but I’m not sure it’s right for me.” Cat grimaced, having not yet informed Elise about her plans with Hank.

  “I know you wanted to be in on the nuts and bolts, but while the company will still be hers, she is willing to give you some input in the creative aspect of the line. She’s offering five hundred thousand up front, and a six-percent royalty on sales for two years, with an option to renew.”

  “Five hundred thousand up front?” That lump-sum payment would further feather her nest egg and give her an injection of cash to devote to Mitchell/St. James. Could she do both? Cat noticed Hank lean forward, observing her, so she turned slightly away. “Based on her average sales, what would I make annually, and what other obligations would I have?”

  “She recently signed a distribution agreement with Neiman Marcus. I don’t have all the sales data yet, so I can’t ballpark a number, but there would be an exclusivity clause attached to this deal.”

  “Exclusivity meaning I couldn’t promote other jewelry?”

  “No, total exclusivity. You couldn’t attach your name to any other product during the term of this contract.”

  “That won’t work.” She cast a furtive glance at Hank. “Can it be negotiated?”

  “I don’t know, but why doesn’t it work? You’d still be able to model because the clothing lines aren’t in your name. Is there some other product you’re interested in branding?”

  Drawing a deep breath, she fessed up. “My own, actually. I’m planning to partner with a furniture designer to start a new business, Mitchell/St. James.”

  Elise’s silence stretched out forever, and the weight of Hank’s stare grew heavier. Finally a frosty voice came through the line. “I wish you would’ve informed me of this before I wasted my time investigating licensing deals for you, Cat.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were speaking with anyone. I would’ve thought we’d have discussed any possibility beforehand.” Cat sighed, wishing Hank weren’t able to hear every word of her end of the conversation. “Is there any chance that exclusivity can be pared back?”

  “I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound like you’ll have time to commit to this project, uphold your prior commitments to Armani, and start a new business, anyway.”

  “The Armani contract isn’t overly demanding.” Cat then asked, “Are you sure there’s no chance she’ll consider carving out an exception to that clause?”

  “I doubt it. Exclusivity is fairly standard in these license agreements. Are you sure you want to pass up this kind of money for something so risky? If your venture fails, the value of your name, for branding purposes, will plummet. That means less money on the table next time, assuming I can even secure you another deal down the road.”

  Cat’s living room walls appeared to be closing in. Perspiration broke out across her chest.

  A clear-cut test of her readiness to walk away from a sure bet and risk her reputation on a business and man she’d only begun to know. A man with so many other obligations pulling at him. A partnership that could hit a rocky road when their personal relationship cooled.

  She faced Hank, his lush green eyes watching her and waiting. How could she turn her back on him after building up his hopes? After standing up to David? After letting Hank quit his job?

  People had always underestimated her; Hank believed in her. He was giving her the chance to prove herself as much as she was giving him the chance to live his dream. He’d put his own family’s security at risk for her, so she should do the same for him.

  Her mother’s heavily accented English drifted through her mind. Stick to your guns, hija preciosa.

  “I’m sorry, Elise. If you can’t negotiate an exception, I have to pass.”

  “I hope you don’t regret this. Should I also assume you’ll no longer have time for modeling, either? Perhaps we should reconsider our relationship once your Armani contract concludes.”

  “I can still take on occasional modeling work, but if you’re no longer interested in representing me, then I’ll respect that decision.” Cat felt Hank squirming beside her on the sofa.

  Elise sighed through the phone. “Let’s talk after you return from Milan next month.”

  “Fine.” Cat tossed her phone aside and drew a deep breath. When she turned toward Hank, he was staring at her as if she had two heads.

  “Tell me you didn’t just walk away from half a million dollars and more, Cat.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. It was this,” she pointed at his drawings, “or the other.”

  Hank sprang off the sofa and paced in a tight circle. “Half a million dollars? I can’t even imagine having that kind of offer, let alone turning it down.”

  If he kept forcing her to think about it, she might get a little sick, too.

  “Hank, that was a two-year deal. We’re building something that will last decades. Something in which I have a vote, too. And we’re going to make money.”

  “I told you before, maxed out I might be able to build eighteen or twenty quality pieces of furniture per year. A great year would gross maybe two-fifty. For me, grossing sixty is about break-even with what I make with Jackson, so I might even be ahead of the game depending on our expenses, but it’s a huge step down for you.” He stabbed his fingers through his hair.

  When he put it that way, it didn’t sound like she’d made a good decision. But her mortgage was minimal, she had money, and they had time to grow the business. Short-term sacrifice for a long-term ga
in. For something real and meaningful, for something that would be hers.

  “So the first year will be lean, but then we’ll hire help, or take on interns at a really low cost who can help beef up production.” And then, whether to convince him or herself, she added, “Don’t forget, the endgame is mass-producing knockoffs. That’s when volume and real money will come.”

  “I’m worried you’re going to resent me if this all doesn’t turn out like you plan. What if it never becomes more than a small, distinguished business? Can you be happy without all of this?” He gestured around her posh apartment.

  “First of all, I’m not going to resent you for an idea I pushed you to consider. Please don’t let concerns about our personal relationship interfere with making business decisions. Let’s agree—right now—that the two are separate, and promise not to let one affect the other.”

  “Is that possible?” He pinned her with his direct gaze.

  “I think so. We both have a lot at stake, so the business needs to remain the priority, at least until we’re on some solid footing.” She licked her lips, feeling antsy under the weight of his scrutiny. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “So you’re already backing away from our personal relationship?”

  “I agreed to try dating, but I’ve always been honest about my hesitation to get involved in a serious relationship.” She clasped his hand. “Given the stakes of this venture, if push comes to shove, the business interests should come before personal ones.”

  Hank looked torn and, honestly, disappointed. “Seeing as you’ve just walked away from a ton of money, and are also putting up all the money for our company, I’d be a jerk to disagree, wouldn’t I?”

  “One thing you could never be is a jerk.” She smiled at him, hoping to ease his tension.

  He scrubbed his hands over his face, clearly concerned. “I’m not used to being in this spot, and I don’t like it.”

  “What spot?”

  “Getting a lot more than I’m giving.”

  “I’m not giving you anything. Who has to build all this stuff?”

  Hank stared at her, then nodded. “I still feel lousy that you’ve walked away from a sure thing.”

  “Don’t feel lousy. Just be committed. We’ve got to put everything into this launch. I know the business will grow slowly, but let’s step out with our best foot forward. Our trade-show debut should be flawless despite the rushed circumstances. I’m betting my reputation on it, so promise me it’s your top priority, too.”

  Hank’s silence only made every other noise in the apartment sound louder, sharper. He clasped her hand. “When I make a promise I keep it. You want flawless, you got it. I promise, you can always depend on me, Cat.”

  “I never really doubted it. So once Esther arrives, we’ll finalize the organizational papers.” She lifted his sketches off the table and started shuffling through them. “Before we were interrupted, you wanted to discuss some concerns about these?”

  Without warning, she saw desire flicker in his eyes, hunger crowding out all other thoughts.

  “First, let’s celebrate.” He held his hand out. When she took it, he yanked her off the sofa and up against his body and kissed her.

  She allowed herself three, maybe five, seconds of pure pleasure before planting her hands against his chest. “Hank, let’s stay focused. We’ve still got a lot to lock down, and Esther’s going to be here in a bit.”

  He looked at her like she’d slapped him across the cheek, but then stepped back, hands held up. “I see.”

  “Please don’t look at me like that. We’ve just agreed to keep the business the priority.”

  She felt his retreat as much as she saw the coolness descend between them. Apparently her idea of separating business and personal relationships would be a huge challenge.

  “Yes, we did. Speaking of which, I need to finish your closets. Guess I’ll get back to work, then, partner. Call me when Esther arrives.” He turned away from her and disappeared around the corner, whatever issues he had wanted to discuss apparently forgotten.

  Mom,

  You always warned me that the bigger my secrets, the lonelier my life would be. I admit, until recently I didn’t really believe you. Now I’ve never felt lonelier despite spending so much time with a wonderful guy who seems to really like me more than “the model.”

  It’s getting harder to keep my infertility a secret. If I were as good a person as him, I’d end things now or tell him the truth so he could understand why he should move on. But something always stops me.

  I wish I could talk to you.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  When Cat and Vivi pulled up to the curb in front of Hank’s home, they discovered him shirtless and mowing the lawn. Glistening skin stretched across muscled, broad shoulders. Slick rivulets of sweat streamed down his tapered waist and disappeared beneath the waistband of low-slung gym shorts.

  From behind, he was sex-on-a-stick hot. Then he switched directions to mow another strip of grass, treating Cat to a spectacular view of his washboard abs and the little indents near his hips. Seeing him half naked and sweaty intensified the desire twining through her limbs.

  She saw his determined face and noticed the shadows under his eyes. Anxiety and exhaustion had replaced his customary soft grin and half dimple.

  Jackson’s stunt last week had thrown Hank, and increased the pressure on Cat, too. Her brother’s typical cooling-off period extended several days, so she’d left him alone to brood rather than get into an argument. Her guilty conscience didn’t exactly motivate her to pick up the phone, either. For now, she focused on working fast so Hank didn’t need to dip into his savings.

  She’d begged, borrowed, and stolen to secure that last-minute spot in Chicago. Not ideal, but at least they could showcase his talent and drum up interest on an international stage. At a bare minimum, her presence should garner some curiosity. Once people met Hank and saw his work, they’d surely fall in love with both.

  Vivi’s photographs would lend a professional touch to their brochures, which must be ordered immediately if they were to have them ready for the show.

  “This is the cutest house ever!” Vivi’s hands landed across her heart. “What a perfect little family home.”

  “He grew up here.” Cat smiled thinking of the sweetness of Hank’s attachment to his home. Probably the same house where he’d prefer to raise his own children someday. Heaviness settled around her heart, because odds were his wife would be some other woman.

  An image of that cute teacher, Amy, flickered in Cat’s mind, shooting a searing streak of jealousy straight to her toes. Scowling, Cat helped Vivi unload her photography equipment from the rental car while trying to shove the unpleasant thoughts aside.

  Hank cut the mower’s engine when he saw them.

  “Need a hand?” He jogged across the yard.

  “No. We’re good.” Cat whipped out her camera-ready smile before he noticed her mood. “Just need to get started so Vivi can finish before David shows up to whisk her off to Block Island for the weekend.”

  “Nice.” Hank kissed Vivi’s cheek hello before doing the same to Cat. Just the brush of his lips against her cheek sent a shower of tingles to her stomach. She caught Vivi watching them and, for a moment, wondered if maybe her friend was right. Maybe she should lay herself bare. The fact that her entire body instantly went numb at the mere idea told her she wasn’t ready. Hank gestured toward the door. “Helen’s inside. My mom should be resting for a while, so hopefully you can finish up without disturbing her.”

  “This is so exciting, Hank. You know I’m going to be your first customer. I want a dining table—a really enormous one for entertaining.”

  Hank chuckled. “That’s the criteria? Big?”

  “Enormous!” She grinned. “Design it however you like. I trust you completely.”

  As did Cat.

  “Thanks. You two might as well get started so you’re done before David arrives.” Hank led them inside and, af
ter introducing them to Helen, said, “I’m going to finish up the yard, then run and pick up Jenny from her class. Good luck.” He waved and disappeared through the front door.

  Once Vivi had taken dozens of shots of the coffee table and sideboard, she and Cat staged the dining table. They’d adjusted its position and the lighting, added flowers, and were moving the chairs out of the way when Helen wheeled Hank’s mother from her bedroom.

  Mrs. Mitchell’s jaw hung open beneath eyes whose gaze exposed fear and confusion. Cat scanned the space—cluttered by the tripod, the strobe light, strangers, and displaced chairs—and guessed the chaos would further agitate the poor woman.

  “Da!” Mrs. Mitchell’s garbled attempt to speak squeezed Cat’s heart.

  Vivi quickly moved the cables out of the way.

  “What? What?” The sharp edge of Mrs. Mitchell’s warbled voice indicated a bit of distress. Helen helped situate her on the sofa, but she began pointing at the strobe light and at Cat and Vivi.

  “Should we stop?” Vivi asked Cat.

  Cat and Hank needed these shots for the brochure, and they had no time for delays. “We only need one good shot of this table.” Cat looked at Helen for approval. Helen nodded, suggesting they could take a few more minutes. “Let’s hurry.”

  Vivi adjusted the lights and snapped a few pictures, quietly directing Cat to move this or that. Cat kept glancing at Mrs. Mitchell, whose hazy gaze no longer appeared upset. As soon as they’d finished, they dismantled the photography equipment.

  When they began moving the furniture back into place, Mrs. Mitchell flailed her arms and barked unintelligible words. At that very moment, a woman Cat presumed to be Meg walked into the house with Hank’s nephew, Eddie.

  “What’s going on?” She shot a harsh glance at Cat and Vivi before kneeling at her mother’s feet and stroking her arm. “Hey, Mom. It’s me, Meggy. I brought Eddie.” Meg pushed the toddler in front of her mother, which settled Mrs. Mitchell. In fact, Cat thought she saw the older woman’s mouth curl into something resembling a grin. “Kiss Grandma hello, Eddie.”