Fighting History
(Fighting For Love #4)
By Marysol James
© 2014 by Marysol James.
All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design: www.doc2mobi.com
Cover photo: © stryjek/Fotolia
Dedication
For S.
You know why.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
About the author
By the same author
Chapter One
Maggie Branson clutched her mother’s hand, trying to stay calm. She knew her Mom was nervous and freaked out enough, and the last thing the woman needed was to know how anxious her daughter was.
Doctor Carrie Langston came in to her office now, and Maggie and Rita sat up straight. Carrie sat at her desk and opened the file she was holding.
“Rita,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
Maggie felt her mother’s shoulders slump.
“Really?” Rita said quietly. “No choice anymore?”
“I’m afraid not.” Carrie’s light blue eyes were kind. “Your diabetes has damaged your right kidney to the point where transplant is the only viable option at this point. Dialysis has worked well for almost two years, but it’s not meant to be a permanent solution, as you know. Its whole purpose is to keep you alive and healthy long enough to find a donor kidney.”
“And is there one?” Maggie asked. “A donor?”
“Yes.” Carrie smiled. “We found a match on the national register. Your Mom’s name is at the top of the list, so she gets the privilege of first-refusal.”
The two women sighed in relief.
“Now.” Carrie looked serious. “We need to talk about the last part of this.”
“The money,” Rita said.
“Yes. Your insurance has covered your dialysis, but it won’t cover the transplant.”
They nodded. They’d known this for a long while, but they had avoided looking at the problem directly because dialysis had still been working. Now, though, they had no choice but to face facts. And the fact was that if they wanted that kidney, they had to come up with somewhere in the neighborhood of almost one hundred and twenty thousand dollars.
“How much time do we have?” Maggie asked. “When do we have to give an answer?”
“Now.”
She started. “Now? Right now?”
“Yes.” Carrie looked at their shocked faces. “The person is still on life support, but the plan is to remove them from it the day after tomorrow. The organs will be harvested quickly, and must be sent on right away. I know it’s fast, and I’m sorry…. but if you want that kidney, Rita, I must accept on your behalf today. Within an hour.”
“Oh, God.” Maggie heard the despair in her mother’s voice. “But – but I don’t have anything close to what we need. We’ve been saving and fundraising, but we still need more than half of it.”
“You can work out a payment plan after, Rita. Get the surgery and worry about that all later.”
“No.” Rita shook her dark head. “I can’t do that… I can’t live the rest of my life with that kind of massive debt hanging over my head. And if something happens to me, it lands on Maggie and I won’t have that.”
Maggie was silent.
“Maggie?” Carrie said. “What do you think?”
“I think I can get the money,” she said slowly.
Rita and Carrie stared at her.
“You – what?” Rita demanded. “From where?”
“Never mind, Mom. That’s for me to worry about.”
“No, it isn’t!” Rita said. “Where the hell can you get that kind of money on short notice? And if you can get it, why didn’t you say something before?”
“It’s a commission, Mom. One that’s been offered to me over and over again and I keep turning it down. But I can take it. It’ll cover quite a bit of the costs. Maybe all of them.”
“Why did you turn it down?” Rita said. “What’s wrong with the job?”
“Nothing’s wrong with the job. It’s the client.”
“Who’s the client?” her mother demanded. “Is he some criminal or something?”
“No.” Maggie sighed. “No, nothing like that.”
Carrie leaned forward. “So… you’re saying you can finance this, Maggie?”
“Yes.” She pushed her long brown hair back from her face. “Yes, I can and I will. Get that kidney here, Carrie. Mom will take it, and the hospital can bill me. I’ll handle everything.”
“Maggie,” Rita began. “I don’t think…”
“Mom.” Maggie’s voice was firm. “I’ll take care of it, OK? You need to focus on your health now. Let me worry about the cost.”
Rita bit her lip. “I don’t know… I don’t think…”
“Mom.” Her voice was softer now. “Really, it’s OK. It’s nothing illegal or unethical or anything that will land me in jail, I swear. It’s just that I don’t like this guy very much, and I won’t enjoy working with him. But he’s very rich and it’s a huge commission and he’s been begging me.” She smiled. “It’ll be OK. Just take the kidney, so you can be healthy. Alright?”
The two women stared at each other for a minute.
“OK,” Rita said finally. “OK, honey. Thank you.”
“It’s no problem, Mom.” Maggie hugged her mother. “Listen, I’d better get out of here and accept that job… can you handle all the paperwork and get yourself home?”
“Of course.”
Maggie stood up and shook Carrie’s hand. “Thanks,” she said. “We’ll stay in touch, right?”
“Absolutely.”
Rita and Carrie watched Maggie leave the office, then they looked at each other.
“That was – surprising,” Carrie said.
Rita nodded. “Yeah. And I don’t like it.”
“Honestly?” Carrie said. “Me neither. You have any idea what it might be?”
“None.” Rita stared at the closed door, worry still hard and tight in her chest. “Not a clue.”
**
Joe Carlisle glared around his restaurant. Six months until the planned opening, and nothing was fucking coming together. It was still a goddamned construction site, he was having trouble finding staff, he was str
uggling to finalize the menu and worst of all, he had nobody competent to handle the sculptures he so desperately wanted. In his original vision of the restaurant, he’d imagined the massive sculptures being a talking-point of his place; a highlight that would set his restaurant apart from any other in Denver.
Of course, that plan had assumed a lot of things. Mostly, it had assumed that she’d accept the commission. Without her, the whole fucking thing had fallen apart pretty fast, and despite almost a year of asking her to reconsider, the stubborn woman just refused to do the job.
Joe had tried everything he could think of. The year before, he’d gone to a conference he knew she’d be at – though he had no earthly reason to be there, since he was a chef and the conference was for artists – and he’d begged her in person. When that failed dismally, he’d started sending her e-mails and texts, which she’d pointedly ignored. Flowers and gifts were returned without comment. In desperation, Joe had started calling her friends, asking them to please get her to call him back, but even that hadn’t panned out.
Goddammit, Maggie. Why can’t you just let all that shit between us go, and come and do the job?
He ran his large hands through his dark hair and sighed heavily. Time was running out, and he was at the point where he had to face facts: she wasn’t going to get on board. No matter how much money he threw at her, she was sticking to her guns. There had been a time when he’d admired her guts, but now, not so much.
Fuck. I guess I’ll have to work with that Angela woman… not even close to my first choice, but she’ll do.
Joe reached in to his pocket and pulled out his cell. He scrolled through the phone book, looking for Angela’s number. Her portfolio wasn’t bad, after all, it just wasn’t what he wanted. Her work didn’t have Maggie’s grace combined with power, that amazing talent she had for making her female sculptures seem both delicate and strong.
Just like Maggie.
And there they were again, those thoughts. The ones that kept Joe up at night, the ones that, as time had passed, more and more resembled regret.
I should never have let her go. It was a mistake. I was stupid. I should have tried harder with her. I should have been different.
Forcing his mind away from the memory of Maggie moaning under him, her curvy thighs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in tight, he focused on his phone again. That was when the restaurant door opened and Joe blinked in total shock. Maggie was standing there.
She was wearing jeans, those brown boots that he knew she loved, and an oversized white shirt with three-quarter sleeves. Her dark brown hair was loose and shining, tumbling down her back in wild curls, her nose was as adorably freckled as he remembered, and she was wearing no makeup at all. She was simply the most beautiful, breathtaking thing he’d ever seen, and he stared at her, wondering if he was just imagining her.
Maggie saw Joe across the room and she closed her eyes for a second. He was in a suit, and she’d always found him sexiest when he wore one. Yeah, the man looked great in jeans and tight t-shirts; God, he even made his chef’s whites look hot as hell. But Joe in a suit was a whole other breed of animal: tough, in control, uncompromising.
She was suddenly totally terrified of being here. If he’d been in jeans, she’d have been able to handle this whole thing, she thought. But Joe in a suit, looking so gorgeous and commanding? She wasn’t so sure anymore.
They stared at each other. Joe put his cell back in his jacket pocket and walked over to Maggie. She steeled herself and walked down the steps to meet him.
“Maggie,” he said in that husky voice. “You’re here.”
“I am,” she said, trying to stay detached. “I was wondering if we could talk.”
“Yeah, of course.” He glanced around at the workmen. “The kitchen is the quietest place.”
“OK.”
He led her through the massive space and despite herself, she looked around with curiosity. Her friend Mia Ferris had told her that the budget for Joe’s new restaurant was in the tens of millions, and now she believed it. The space was huge, the ceilings were high and the entire roof was glass. She looked up at the clear blue May sky above and took a deep breath.
He opened the kitchen door for her and she entered. It was the largest kitchen she’d ever seen, and again she saw where the money must have gone. It did indeed appear that Joe wasn’t hurting for investment on this project, and she stiffened her resolve in asking for a high fee.
OK, Maggie. This is for Mom. Get as much cold, hard cash as you can out of this cheating asshole, and get the hell out of here and get to work.
She turned to see Joe leaning against one of the gleaming stainless-steel counters, examining her. His arms were crossed loosely across his large upper body and despite herself, she remembered what it had been like to have those arms around her. She looked away.
“So.” Joe was fighting to stay calm. “What did you want to talk about?”
Those amazing green eyes met his. They were cool and distant, and he ached when he remembered how they used to look at him. There was a time when they’d sparkled at him in laughter, and when he’d seen animal lust and hunger in them, and when they’d gazed up at him, warm and sated, from his bed. This chilly appraisal hurt him, but he hid it well.
Your fault, man. You made her look at you like a stranger.
“About the commission.” Her voice was as cold as her eyes. “Is that still on the table?”
“Yeah.”
“Fine.” She cocked her head at him, and her long hair spilled over one shoulder. “I haven’t appreciated you calling my friends about this, by the way. That was way out of line.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
A bitter smile appeared on her face. Right. He’s sorry for calling Reena, but fucking other women while we were together was just fine, wasn’t it? “Uh-huh. So, tell me about what you need, the timeline you’re working in, and the fee.”
“Wait, Maggie.” He shook his head. “Are you saying that you’ll do it?”
She looked at Joe, and for the life of him he had no idea what was going through her head. There was a time when he’d been able to read her every thought, her every emotion, but this woman in front of him was a total mystery.
I don’t get it… what’s she doing here now, after all this time?
“Maybe.” She forced herself to sound disinterested, like she could take this or leave it. Maggie knew that if he sensed one iota of her intense need, he’d be like a shark circling a bleeding victim in the water. Letting Joe Carlisle see her weak or desperate was the fastest way to getting screwed over – in any and every sense of that word.
“Really?” he said.
“Yeah.”
They stared at each other. Maggie saw the dark circles under his blue eyes, and she found herself worrying that maybe he wasn’t getting enough sleep.
For crying out loud, Maggie. He’s probably fucking a different woman every night. That’s why he looks like hell.
“OK,” Joe said. “I need four large sculptures.”
“How large?”
“Six feet tall.”
She nodded.
“I’d need them within six months.”
Wow. That’s tight. But I’ll pull it off somehow. Mom needs me to.
“OK,” she said.
“And I want them to be apsaras.”
That interested her, he saw, and his heart gave a small kick of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she’d do it. He knew the subject matter was right up her street, and this was yet another reason why he’d favored her for the commission from the beginning.
“What kind?” she asked.
“I really want the inspiration to be the apsaras in Angkor Wat.”
“What material do you want them to be in?”
“Sandstone. A really golden sandstone, like a gentle sunset res
ting on them at all times.” He took out his phone again. “I have several photos, I can show you…”
“Not until you tell me the fee you’re offering.”
“One hundred and fifty thousand,” Joe said. “Including all your costs.”
“No.”
He paused. “Just… no?”
“Yes. Just no.” She started to walk out of the kitchen, praying to God that he didn’t call her bluff, hoping he wanted her to do this as badly as she thought he did. “Thanks for your time.”
“Wait! Maggie, wait!” He knew that he was fucking up this negotiation big-time, but he needed her to do this project. Without her, this whole thing was dead in the water, and he knew it. The fact that she was even standing there talking to him was nothing short of a miracle, and no way he was letting her get away. “One-fifty, plus all costs.”
That stopped her. She narrowed her eyes. “Costs paid up-front?”
“Yeah.”
“And fifty percent of my fee paid up-front too.”
“Twenty.”
“Thirty-five. Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Fine.”
Relieved, disbelieving, he extended his hand to her. “You’ve got a deal, baby.”
Her eyes flashed. “Don’t fucking call me that. Not ever again.”
“I’m sorry.” Joe dropped his hand.
Again with the ‘I’m sorry’ for all the wrong reasons. Yeah, I did the right thing when I walked away from him.
“So have legal draw up the contract and send it to me at home,” she said. “You still have all my business details? My address?”
Joe nodded. “You’ll get it this afternoon.”
“Great.” She walked past him now. “I’ll come back here tomorrow morning at ten o’clock and we can talk about the sculptures in detail then.”
“OK,” Joe said. “And Maggie…”
She turned to look at him, as disinterested and distant as a stranger.
“…it’s nice to see you again.”
Fighting History (Fighting For Love Book 4) Page 1