“Morning, gorgeous,” Dave greeted her. “I’m going to head in and start taking a look around.”
“Does he always flirt?”
“If you’re female and breathing, Dave considers it his duty. I’m surprised to see you here this morning,” Jason said.
Cherry leaned back against the door frame, trapping her hands behind her. Faint shadows marred the skin under those striking blue-green eyes. Perhaps she’d haunted his night as he had hers. “I drew the short straw. The interview shouldn’t take long, and we’ll be out of your way in no time.”
“No worries. We can work around you.”
A second car pulled up, and Cherry’s stomach dropped out from under her like a hundred-foot drop on a roller coaster. Here goes nothing.
Jason reached out to steady her as she stepped away from the wall, and she leaned into him for support. “You okay? You look a little shaky.” His eyes darkened and she found herself holding her breath. Simultaneously they both stepped back.
“Thanks, that makes me feel so much better.” She laughed and assured him she’d be fine. He took one last look and excused himself to start work.
Cherry pushed all thoughts of Jason aside as she spotted the reporter from News Today walking toward her, along with his photographer.
A weasel and a fox, they’re sneaky and have no problem taking whatever they want from anyone else.
She really needed to work on her issues with the media: They were probably nice guys with lovely wives at home and two point five kids, a dog, a cat, and who knows what else waiting for them. They look like nice guys, she argued to herself, one in a suit and tie, the other more casual, as most photographers were. Then he snapped a picture of her.
Vultures.
Keep smiling, that’s it, smile on the outside and they never know what’s really going on inside where it matters. One of the producers, Steve, had given her that bit of advice during their second week of filming and it had become her mantra ever since.
She greeted both men, and after a brief internal debate agreed to allow them to take her picture in front of the rec center sign before handing them hard hats and leading them into the ruined building.
“Ms. Ryan, it is still Ms. Ryan, correct?” At her nod the reporter went on. “How did you become involved in the efforts to rebuild the community center?”
She stepped to the side of one of the former classrooms, letting the photographer in to do his job. “My co-chair, Tawny Torres, and her boss, Mr. North, who is on the center’s board, were having a discussion one day about the future of the center. When she learned there were plans to tear it down and sell the land, she approached me and together we came up with the idea of raising the money to rebuild. The board approved our idea, a committee was formed, and here we are today.”
What Cherry wouldn’t talk about was the months of counseling she’d gone through at the center to deal with her parents’ disappearance. Or Tawny’s personal reasons for getting involved—those were hers to share or not to share.
They continued to walk from room to room and section to section without running into Jason and Dave. At first, she thought they’d already left, but every now and then she’d catch a snippet of far-away conversation or the scrape of a boot on the concrete floor.
“So the gala dinner was a big success, raising enough to cover all your needs?”
“Yes and no. While it was a success, the money we raised won’t pay for everything. As you can see, the building suffered extensive damage from the hurricane last fall. There’s also the damage to the playground and the ball fields. The insurance will pay a good portion, but I’m afraid with the rising costs of supplies, we’re still a little short of accomplishing all of our goals.”
They stepped into the main room, which would house pool tables, foosball, board games, puzzles, and a complete Wii setup. All of the windows on the east side had been blown out and were now covered with wood. The furniture had followed, taking out most of the frames, which in turn affected the surrounding walls. A section of the roof drooped near the middle. The reporter’s eyes widened and he instructed his photographer to get as many shots as he could from every possible angle.
“What’s next on the fund-raising committee’s agenda?” The man stood with a dumbfounded look on his face, probably thinking it would have been easier to raze the place and start from scratch.
“At this time, we don’t have any firm plans we’re ready to announce, but when we do, you’ll be the first to know.” She flashed him one of her most sincere smiles.
“Would you consider participating in Love in Shangri-La to raise the money?”
Give the man a brownie point. He actually made it more than three whole questions before bringing up the freaking reality show. Well, three if she ignored his snarky question regarding her marital status at the beginning. Yeah, she’d been asked to participate on the sister show of Finding Mr. Right.
Sure, she’d like to find that someone special, but hanging out at the beach (where she’d be lobster red in a day) with a camera on her 24/7 wouldn’t help the center. Not to mention she didn’t want to be back in the spotlight, her every move, every word scrutinized by the millions who tuned in to watch, hoping for a scandal. She still believed in the process, in the show, and that it worked for some, just not for her. Not that she’d share any of those thoughts with a reporter.
“No.”
End of discussion. Moving on.
A scrape of boots on concrete had her craning her neck to see if she could spy Jason. It was silly and made no sense, but his presence gave her a small measure of calm. She didn’t know how to explain it, even to herself. She just knew if she needed help, he’d come.
“Would you like to see the exterior? We’ve awarded the contract to Valentine Rehab Services, and Mr. Valentine is around here somewhere. Perhaps you’d like to speak with him as well?”
“I heard they’ve asked you several times to try Finding Mr. Right again, as well as participate on Love in Shangri-La. Is that true?”
No and yes. She’d been on the main show twice, which was the limit. The second show was new, and yes, she’d received a couple of invites to participate. More information she had no intention of sharing. She was not the point of this interview.
“Mr. Ford, the families in the west end are working-class people struggling to make ends meet. They don’t have extra to send their children to day camps or off to summer programs. Some don’t have the money for day care and many don’t even have the means to feed their children lunch when school is out of session. The center fills those needs for them. We offer our programs to lower-income families free of charge. No child is ever denied lunch. We give them a safe haven.”
The reporter stepped in her path, blocking her from exiting the room. “Wouldn’t being a contestant on the show solve all your problems? I hear they pay fifty thousand dollars for every episode and the winner gets a million on top of what they’ve already earned. Think of everything you could do for the center with all of that money, not to mention your personal situation.”
The man was so far out in left field he wasn’t even in the game. A million dollars—she wished they paid that much money. “Oh, look, there’s Mr. Valentine now. I’m sure he’d love to discuss his plans for how he’s going to save our center.”
Jason and Dave went through the building, reinspecting each room, jotting down everything they’d need to get the job done, and discussing where to start. But the entire time, Jason was fully aware of Cherry and company’s whereabouts. Too aware. The last thing he needed in his life was a husband-seeking woman who kept him up all night long with fantasies of her soft curves.
As the trio approached, Cherry once again wore the plastic smile from the gala, with little lines etched deep into her forehead. What would it take to wipe away the tension marring her pretty face? He wanted to see the look of joy she had at dinner. She made the introductions all around, not leaving anyone out, her tone and manner professional and
friendly, even if her eyes were shooting little daggers at the reporter every time she looked at him. The lady had spunk.
“Elmo Ford, News Today.” The guy shoved his hand into Jason’s and squeezed as he reintroduced himself. He must be used to people forgetting him. “Congratulations on snagging this little beauty of a job. Care to answer a few questions for us?”
The guy fit his name. He was small, with a high-pitched, annoying voice. “Sure, I’m happy to help, as is my business partner, David Farber.” Secretly, he hoped Dave would do his thing and take over the interview, charm the reporter and get the guy out of his hair. He had work to do. He needed to talk to Cherry about that kiss in front of the fountain. What he wanted was a repeat performance.
“Why this project? There’s lots of rebuilding going on in Providence, why did you want to work on the community center? Anything make it particularly special?” The guy rattled off the questions fast enough to make Jason wonder if he expected them all to be answered.
“Both Dave and I are from the west end and consider this our chance to give back to the community that gave so much to us.” There, he’d delivered it, the line they had worked up with Brody’s help to put them out there as the hometown boys.
“Uh-huh, great. Always good to give back, but . . .” The reporter scratched his chin, stalling. “Isn’t it true you didn’t turn in your proposal until after you had not only won a date with Ms. Ryan, but gone on that date with her?”
Cherry had wandered over to look out of one of the few intact windows, her back to the group of men. From the corner of his eye Jason saw her head jerk around toward them, saw the half step she took before stopping. Her eyes closed, she mouthed something to herself, and he watched enchanted as those lush breasts rose and fell with each deep breath she took.
“I believe it’s just as important to pay it back as it is to pay it forward,” Jason said through clenched teeth. Man, what was this guy’s point?
Dave stepped forward. “Rebuilding the community center is very important to both me and Jason. We spent numerous hours out on those playgrounds. We’d hate for the kids growing up here now to no longer have this resource.”
“Riiight.” The reporter zeroed back in on Jason and waved his finger back and forth between Jason and Cherry. “So you two are dating now and you have the contract on the center, is that correct?”
“No.” Cherry shoved her way forward, her head shaking a vehement denial, and if that wasn’t enough, the tone and volume of her voice should have got the message across.
“Mr. Ford, I believe you were invited here to discuss the center and the plans to rebuild it. If you’re done, I’d be happy to show you the way out.” Jason stepped forward, making the reporter step back.
“No thanks, I’ve seen and heard all I need.”
The jerk and his sidekick left, but not before they got one more picture of Cherry with him and Dave standing amid the rubble. Another minute and Jason’s reputation wouldn’t have been of the hometown boy making good, but rather like-father-like-son, and end up with him calling Brody to bail him out of jail.
They walked outside to get some fresh air together, making a loop around the property while the three discussed the plans to get started on Monday morning. When they rounded back to their starting point, Dave excused himself to make a call, leaving the two of them standing there staring at each other.
Cherry reached up and rubbed at her shoulders, head tilted. “Look, I’m sorry about the reporter. I have an idea of how he got the details, but I’m not sure what the point was. One of the committee members, Stan, was against awarding you the contract. We argued over it. He lost.”
“It’s okay.”
“No it’s not. Anyway, I’m sorry the reporter ambushed you like he did. I didn’t realize Stan would go to such extreme measures to get back at me.” She took a step away. “I’ll see you Friday at three for our first walk-through.”
He took a step in her direction, reached for her hand and then stopped. “About that, I was thinking after the walk-through maybe we could get a bite to eat.”
Her nose scrunched up as she studied him. Wary, as if unsure what he was up to now. “Are you asking me on another date, Mr. Valentine?”
He chuckled at her half-amused look. He couldn’t blame her given the circumstances of their first date. The woman was affecting his brain. He hadn’t meant to ask her out. He’d meant to steer clear, keep his head down, and do his job well. He didn’t need her friendship to get the recommendation he needed when this project ended. To be honest, it would be better all around for him to stick to business. He wasn’t looking for a relationship—been there, done that, got the burn marks to prove it. Yet he couldn’t get her out of his head and he wanted to know why.
“Absolutely not, Ms. Ryan. I’m asking a business colleague to dinner.” His gaze dropped to her luscious lips as he remembered their first date and the scorching-hot kiss. How he had wanted to kiss her again last night, to test his reaction to her. Maybe it had been a onetime thing, his losing his head, maybe not, but they did say the third time was the charm. He looked up, caught her staring at his mouth, and smiled. “And if you’re up to it, coffee and cannoli?”
Chapter Eight
Luck finally took pity on Cherry. Despite the mild winter, and promise of a warm spring and early summer, the dressing rooms were empty, allowing her and Tawny to snag rooms next to each other and talk freely without anyone else hearing their conversation.
“This morning’s interview was a disaster. The reporter focused on the blasted show and me. Then he insinuated Jason and I were sleeping together and that’s why Jason got the contract. The jerk completely ignored what I had to say about the center’s role in the community. We need a better PR campaign where we can keep the attention on the work being done on the center and what it will offer and off my personal life. I didn’t sign up for this to get airtime. If, in the end, not everyone sees me as the wicked, greedy person Ari painted, great, but it really is about the community.”
Tawny leaned against the doorjamb, brows drawn down in concentration. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about the fact Stan had set up this morning’s interview. Let him play his childish games. We have our own sources and I think it’s time we called them in. I’ll call Heather over at the radio station and Jeanine Miner to see if I can get some on-air interviews so I can bring the focus back to where it should be. And let’s not forget Jeanine’s date, the newscaster from the other station. I’ll work on those while you handle Valentine and the inspections.” She stepped into her room, closing the door.
Media or Jason? Tough choice, or it would be if either of them acted on the lust floating between them this morning. Complications, who needed them? Definitely not her, not even when they came wrapped up in six feet of delectable desire. “Deal. He asked me out again—strictly for business.”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Tawny teased from the other dressing room. “You are going, right? You better have said yes.”
“Tawny, it’s just dinner and shop talk. That’s it. We’re going to do the site inspection on Friday and then talk about our mutual goals.” Cherry tugged the top of the tankini farther down to hide her tummy. While it helped, it didn’t cover up her full thighs. Maybe she’d try on one of those suits with the little skirt instead. Not that it mattered; she had no intention of parading these thighs in front of anyone anytime soon.
“I think you should make seducing Mr. Jason Valentine one of your goals. He’d be a good rebound fling, and you never know, it could turn into something more. You need to get back in the game. Ugh.”
“What?” Cherry asked as she fought to pull the top off.
“None of these bathing suits are working for me.” Tawny paused, but Cherry didn’t hear her struggling to get out of the suit like she had to do. “You’ll never find Mr. Right sitting around your apartment with Tucker, you know. Okay, every one in this batch makes my boobs look huge, not to mention my butt
.”
“I have dated. It’s not my fault they all turned out to be toads and not worth a second date. And, sweetie, your boobs are huge. You could give Dolly a run for her money and, well, your butt, let’s not go there.”
“What?”
“Kidding. You’re more like Dolly’s little sister. Feel better?”
“No.” Tawny knocked on her door. “Let me see the one you got on.”
“Why, so you can tell me how grande my boobs are?” She pulled the door open and waited.
Tawny stood, finger tapping the side of her mouth before giving her the twirl sign.
“It’s not bad, but it smooshes you. You’ve got cleavage, show it off. Let’s go find some more to try on.” Tawny pulled the door closed on her.
“How come I didn’t get to see any of yours? I’m betting they all looked fabulous on you, everything always does.” She slipped back into her clothes, gathered up the unwanted suits, and left the dressing room. “I get to see the next batch on you, every one of them. Anyway, Jason and I are work colleagues now and there’s nothing between us.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.
She hung the bathing suits up and walked out into the racks. She needed to keep it simple. No more fantasies about Jason and melted chocolate.
Tawny handed her a couple more suits to try on and continued to flip through the rack. “Come on, Cherry, the guy’s sexy as all get-out and you’re going to tell me you haven’t felt one little zing when you’re with him?”
Little zing? Nope, there had been nothing little about the zings she had felt. Huge, whopping, monstrous, I-want-to-rip-his-clothes-off-type zings, sure, she’d felt those. “No, no little zings.” She thrust a few suits into Tawny’s hands and pulled her friend back toward the dressing room.
Tawny stopped at a rack and began flipping through the clothes. She pulled out a deep royal blue blouse, then turned to the next rack and continued her frantic search.
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