Fight for You

by Nina Crespo

  “Thanks, but I have to get going.” She faced him. Her wink and mischievous expression confirmed she’d deliberately used the same response he’d given her earlier.

  “Okay then.”

  She retrieved a pair of beige strappy stilettoes from underneath the bed and slipped them on. “There’s a café up the street that serves excellent coffee. You’re welcome to join me if you have the time.”

  “Duty calls. I’ve got to do some work.”

  “On a Saturday? Too bad, but I understand. I have to put in my share of weekends, too, at the restaurant.”

  As they walked out into the living room, she glanced left and paused, taking in the amazing view of the ocean visible through the wall of glass. She turned and her gaze traveled over the main room of the suite that she’d probably missed seeing last night because of their hurry to get to the bedroom.

  A white L-shaped sectional with blue throw pillows and a modern gray cubed coffee table that displayed a centerpiece of calla lilies and hydrangeas dominated the space. A large flat-screen television hung on the wall across from it. In the far corner, cobalt stools complemented the white marble-topped wet bar.

  The look in Jessica’s eyes conveyed her thoughts. The room was sumptuous. Elegant. Inviting. Expensive.

  She picked up her beige purse from the sectional. “What did you say you did for a living again?”

  He hadn’t. “I’m in real estate.”

  “Oh, so you’re a Realtor?” Interest heightened in her expression.

  He could tell that she was summing him up in dollar signs. “You could say that.”

  It wasn’t a complete lie. Kingman Partners invested in hotel and resort properties, along with restaurants and technology related to the industry. They often sold off their lucrative interests.

  She smiled as she glided one of her hands up his bare chest to his nape. “You know, I get off early tonight if you want to meet up again.”

  Last night, he’d caught himself searching her face for glimpses of sweetness, something uncomplicated or uncontrived that would make him want her around for the rest of his vacation. He hadn’t found it.

  Aiden stroked her cheek. “Sorry. I have to take a pass.”

  From the understanding look in her eyes, she heard what he wasn’t saying aloud. Their time together had ended. “I should go, then.” As she let herself out, she glanced back before closing the door.

  An image of another, similarly dark-haired woman with flawless naturally bronzed skin flashed in his mind. Delanie. But Delanie’s eyes were a unique shade of coppery brown and her smiles had held genuine warmth. Aiden gave himself a mental shake. What was going on? He’d been thinking about her a lot lately.

  His cell rang, and he took it from his pocket. King was calling again. Aiden answered. “What happened to twenty minutes?”

  “Stop giving me static and listen. Things are unraveling. Benjamin Granger willed Echo Pines to his niece, Beth Granger, and now she’s hesitating on following through with the agreement that we made with him before he died.”

  “And?”

  “And we’re not going to miss out on buying this property. Jade Valley, that new mountain resort I told you about, the one that’s near the southern border of Tennessee? The place is making a killing, but they’re also turning down reservations because they keep getting booked up, and a good portion of their guests are coming from Georgia. Echo Pines is in a perfect position to pick up the slack. It doesn’t matter whether we renovate Echo for ourselves or sell it, we’ll make money. It’s too good of a deal to pass up.”

  “It’s not the right investment for Kingman Partners.”

  “Don’t give me that. The only reason you’re against this investment idea is because it reminds you of Clearmount Retreat.”

  Mild annoyance sparked in Aiden. “My objection has nothing to do with my past but everything to do with the present. First, a mountain lodge doesn’t fit in with our current investments. Second, you were on your way to look at another mountain lodge when your plane crashed. Now, just before signing the contract to sell Echo Pines to us, Benjamin Granger dies of a heart attack. The idea has had bad mojo attached to it from day one. How much more needs to happen before you realize we should walk away?”

  “The crash was an accident, and Granger dying was unfortunate, but neither one of those facts negates the opportunity. Echo Pines is a low-cost acquisition and should be an easy close. Based on what we know about Beth’s financial situation, she needs the money.”

  “Fine. If it’s just a matter of her getting paid, have our people deliver the contract on Monday. It won’t take much to get a signature once she sees the revised documents with her name and a dollar amount on them.”

  “Or she’s having doubts and thinking about consulting a lawyer. If she does, everything becomes more complicated. I have a bad feeling about this. We’re not waiting until Monday. We need a skilled negotiator to lock her down this weekend.”

  “We are not spearheading this one. You are.” Aiden dropped onto the sectional. “Fly out there and get it done.”

  “I can’t.” King’s long exhale filled the pause. “I need to spend time with Sophie like I promised her I would. I’m still committed to Kingman Partners, but she’s important to me too. I want to make her happy. I know this is a switch for me, but I just don’t want to mess things up between us. I’m planning to propose in a couple of weeks. Mom’s giving me our grandmother’s ring . . .”

  King really was serious. Their mom wouldn’t have agreed to hand over the three-carat family heirloom if she didn’t believe his head and heart were in the right place with Sophie.

  Aiden let his head fall onto the back of the sectional. Wow. Before Sophie, King chased women like a thirsty man hunting for water in the desert. Now he was ready for marriage and all the other things that came with it. That was a huge switch for him. Especially since, seven years ago, King had struggled to grasp the situation with Delanie. Back then, King had told him losing her was the cost of doing business and advised him to let it go. He’d resented King not being on his side, but at that point in his life, King hadn’t been a fan of commitment, so he’d forgiven him.

  Remembered disillusionment surfaced in Aiden. That day at the cabin also squashed his trust in their father. A couple of years after he’d lost Delanie, whatever remaining faith he’d had in him was obliterated when one of Gerard’s jilted lovers resorted to blackmail over their workplace affair. That led him and King to leave their father and TriRoyal behind to form Kingman Partners. That had happened five years ago, and a rift had existed between them ever since.

  Aiden breathed the memories away. He had to let the past go and live in the present.

  King, oblivious to Aiden’s heavy silence on the phone, continued mounting his defense. “Sophie wants to throw a party for my thirty-third birthday. That’s when I’m going to ask her. I need to have Echo Pines off my plate before then.”

  That was only three weeks away. Aiden raised his head. He and King’s business prowess had removed them from their father’s influence professionally, making them successful in their own right. Maybe King and Sophie’s marriage would be a positive step toward the same in their personal lives, ending the Kingman legacy of broken promises and failed relationships.

  Aiden stood. More important, King and Sophie deserved a shot at happiness and he’d do all he could to support them. “How soon do you want me to leave?”

  three

  DELANIE WALKED THROUGH the glass door into the two-story loft that housed her company, Marquette Business Consulting. A light wind ruffled the hem of her long gray coat. Car exhaust from downtown Seattle’s early Saturday-morning traffic, which was only a little over five miles away, blew in the air. The scent of fresh bread from the corner bakery across the street wafted in with another strong breeze.

  Going into the office on a weekend while everyone else was relaxing and enjoying the day sucked, but she needed to get caught up on paperwork and meet wit
h a client. A cup of dark roast coffee and a fresh croissant from the bakery would lighten her mood. As she adjusted the strap of the caramel tote on her shoulder, the waistband of her emerald pantsuit pinched her waist. Maybe she’d just have the coffee. All of the food she’d consumed on the road during the past two weeks while visiting clients had taken its toll.

  “Good morning, boss.” Edison, her twenty-two-year-old, fresh out of college assistant, saluted her from across the open floor plan, where he stood behind the black-and-gray granite counter in the stainless steel kitchen.

  The top of his wavy ginger hair was in controlled-chaos mode, in contrast to the sides that were close cut. He strolled out of the kitchen carrying a logoed cardboard coffee cup. His brown ankle boots thumped on the wood floor. The dark pants and the untucked white shirt and black V-neck sweater combo he wore gave off the comfortable yet professional aesthetic she wanted to project in her office.

  He scooped a stack of messages from a wood-topped metal desk near the wall and handed them to her along with the coffee. “Your original morning meeting with your clients from Oregon was canceled, but that worked out because someone else wants to see you. They’ll be here in about ten minutes, and I called about the TV again.” He glanced to the opposite side of the room to the wide-screen on top of a long dark cabinet.

  Anyone sitting in the two plump beige chairs or on the couch with teal throw pillows in front of the TV would be treated to a white grainy screen.

  “The cable guy should be here first thing Monday. Allegedly.” He plopped into the black padded chair behind his desk. “You’ll have to meet him. You gave me Monday off because I’m here today.”

  Delanie lifted the cup and breathed in the steamy scent of fresh coffee. Processing all of what he’d said required caffeine. She took a sip, barely suppressing a moan of gratefulness. Black with two sugars—just the way she liked it.

  A slight surge of energy boosted her mood and her focus. Yay on the canceled meeting. The couple that she had been planning to see that morning had just opened a bed-and-breakfast. They kept insisting their feral cat sanctuary would merge seamlessly with their family-friendly lodging business. Yeah—no. That was a lawsuit waiting to happen.

  If only they were more business savvy like her other client in Vegas. Laid back and in their thirties, the husband-and-wife team ran an inn that was known for its fun beach-themed honeymoon getaway suites. Recently, they’d offered an add-on amenity called the Piña Colada Special that included umbrella-topped drinks for two served with a side of tropical-flavored condoms and piña-colada-flavored lube. It was an instant moneymaker.

  Before Delanie had left after her own stay there, the wife had slipped condoms into her bag and encouraged her to find someone to enjoy them with. Unfortunately, making use of them would require time and a man; two things she didn’t have.

  Delanie walked over to the wood staircase leading to her glass-walled office in the loft. “Why don’t we turn off the TV and put on some music?”

  Edison grinned and held up his cell. “Already on it.”

  Delanie hiked the stairs. Most likely that meant music from his girlfriend, Neva, and her band. A hip-hop beat, combined with rock and British soul, would perk her up as long as it wasn’t bone-jarring loud. “Think background music, Edison,” she called down. “We’re running a business here, not partying at the club.”

  “Yep,” he murmured. “Definitely no confusion there.”

  Delanie resisted a retort. Edison’s computer wizardry, organizational skills, and ability to keep things lively—plus his excellent coffee-making abilities—were a fair trade for his wry sense of humor. Too bad she couldn’t keep him forever. Even though he’d faithfully worked for her over the past year and a half, being her assistant was obviously just a pit stop for him on the way to something bigger.

  She paused. “Who’s coming to see me?”

  “Eve Marquette.”

  Delanie faltered and the pointed toe of one of her high-heeled black pumps hit the edge of the step. She grasped the railing. Her former mother-in-law? They’d stopped speaking over a year ago.

  What was so urgent that Eve would stop by on a weekend? “Did she say why she wanted to talk to me?”

  “No.” Unaware of her growing anxiety, Edison kept swiping his finger over his cell screen, searching for more music.

  Delanie resisted yelling at him. He didn’t know anything about the rift between her and Eve, since she kept her personal life on lockdown and out of the office.

  An electric guitar riff wailed through the small wireless speakers tucked in the corners of the ceiling.

  Edison glanced up and smiled. “Should I run to the bakery for pastries?”

  “No.” Delanie trudged to the loft. They probably wouldn’t get to them. Eve had held her tongue through the separation and divorce between Delanie and her son. Now she was probably getting around to cursing her out for ruining her son’s life.

  Upstairs, Delanie set her coffee and messages on top of the black credenza on the right-hand side of her office space and stored her purse in the furniture’s middle cabinet. She straightened the bowl of faux white flowers and lemons on the center of it before hanging up her coat. Whatever happened with Eve, she could handle it. The past was in the past. Right?

  The coffee swirled in Delanie’s stomach. She slid the modern white chairs over the light natural-fiber carpet, arranging them perfectly in front of her ebony table desk. Then she sat her coffee and messages on top of it and dropped into the black desk chair. She barely refrained from aligning the two pens and notepad she always kept handy.

  The door opened downstairs.

  Itching with nervousness, Delanie listened as Edison greeted Eve and offered her refreshments, which she declined.

  Delanie stood and took a cleansing breath. Before she’d married Eve’s son, Eve had been her boss, and later her mentor, as she started her own business. Eve’s guidance had also kept her focused after her father’s death six years ago. Surely, they could still interact with each other as professionals. If this was about business, that is.

  Moments later, she heard Eve come up the stairs to her office. The brunette paused in the doorway. From the perfect fit of Eve’s long peach coat, matching blouse, and skinny jeans, it was clear she still practiced yoga on a regular basis and maintained her relationships with a talented colorist and a skilled plastic surgeon to maintain her youthful fiftysomething appearance. But her natural beauty, which combined attributes from her Asian and African American heritages, still shone through.

  Eve smiled. “Delanie.” She opened her arms.

  Relief surged through Delanie. She came from around the desk, stepped into the embrace and returned Eve’s air kisses to her cheeks. “Have a seat.” She motioned to the chairs in front of her desk.

  While Eve sat down and rested her fashionable oversized clutch in the other chair, Delanie settled in behind the desk.

  Their gazes met. Awkwardness hovered.

  Eve cleared her throat. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

  “Not a problem. Are you in town on business?”

  “I’m passing through. I had meetings with a client in New York.” Although Eve was based in Los Angeles as a freelance crisis-management expert, her job often took her around the country. “How are you?”

  Tired. In the past, she would have unburdened herself and told Eve everything. She’d never known her own mother, who’d abandoned her as an infant. Eve had given her the type of mother-daughter-like closeness she’d never had growing up. Everything changed when Delanie’s marriage to Eve’s son, Hideo—or Day, as most people called him—ended in divorce.

  Delanie forced a bright smile. “Great. Busy.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Eve’s gray-eyed gaze narrowed as if she could see through the smoke screen. “Not too busy, I hope, that you can’t look into something for me?”

  “Of course I will, if I can.” Delanie picked up a pen and poised the tip
on the notepad. “What is it?”

  “One of my clients has a daughter named Beth who lives in Atlanta. Beth recently inherited a small lodging property in northern Georgia from her deceased uncle. He was in the process of selling it when he died.”

  “What’s the problem? Does Beth not want to sell?”

  “She does, but her mother is concerned that the deal isn’t solid. On the other hand, Beth and her mother don’t see eye to eye. Beth is reluctant to take her mother’s advice.”

  Like how she had been when she refused to listen to Eve’s advice three years ago? Guilt sank into Delanie.

  She’d just opened her business when Day, a chef, had moved to Los Angeles to open his restaurant. They’d had a romantic, whirlwind courtship. He’d proposed six months later. In private, Eve had asked her not to marry him because she believed their lives were moving in opposite directions. Despite all the years that had passed, Eve had even hinted Delanie still had some unresolved issues around the breakup with Aiden. Eve knew the entire story about Clearmount and the Kingmans, and her candor had hurt. It was as if Eve was telling her she didn’t know her own mind and heart. Delanie had ignored what she’d said and married Day anyway, believing that a new business, along with marrying him, was the right step for a new future.

  “What makes you think Beth will take my advice?”

  “You have firsthand knowledge of the firm that wants to buy the business.” Eve paused. “It’s the Kingmans.”

  Delanie almost knocked over her coffee. “Gerard Kingman is involved?” A bitter laugh shot out of her. “My advice is simple. Tell Beth to run.”

  “It’s not TriRoyal Incorporated that’s interested. It’s Kingman Partners International, the company that belongs to his sons, Nicolas and Aiden.”

  Aiden. The name was like a knife, slicing open old wounds. For a time, she’d managed to forget about him and his family . . . until her marriage began to break down. Aiden’s ghost had reared up, reminding her once again that she’d been part of a failed relationship.

  Pinpricks radiating into Delanie’s fingers made her aware of just how tightly she gripped the pen she still held. She laid it on the desk. “I’ll reach out to some of my colleagues to see who they may know in Georgia. I’m sure I can find someone qualified to help Beth.”