Man in Charge: A Steamy Contemporary Romantic Comedy (The Manly Series Book 2)

by Teddy Hester

“So, here’s what I want you to consider, if you will. I’d like to create a Regal Theater calendar featuring project personnel working in the theater in my boxers, all proceeds to go into the building fund. After all, I paid these models as much as a thousand dollars for their one-day shoot. I’d just as soon pay you.”

  “I don’t understand,” Tom says.

  “I’m suggesting that if we need my loan, instead of any of you tying up your own cash, the way you pay me back is to pose for our calendar. Tom gets the money he needs to pass the electrical inspection, the project gets some fun publicity as the calendars sell, and Scanties men’s line is launched as part of a community restoration project. Everyone benefits.”

  “Just like the Calendar Girls movie!” Tom says.

  “Sort of,” I agree. “Only with clothes and younger models, in our community’s theater.”

  “I’ll have to ask my wife,” Tom says sheepishly.

  “Yep. And there’s nothing saying she couldn’t be in the picture with you, also wearing a pair of the boxers.”

  He brightens. “Hey, I like that idea. I think she will, too.”

  I look at the tougher sell. “Eldon?”

  “It could be worse. I like not having to come up with fifty or sixty grand.”

  Well, not a ringing endorsement, but at least he didn’t shoot it down.

  “Tony?” Tom asks.

  “No.”

  Tom blinks, but then nods. “Oh, because of it being underwear. It is a little embarrassing. But I think it will also be fun. Janelle will put us in tasteful poses, right?”

  “Yes, by all means. We’re not looking to do porn.”

  “Well, then, Tony, come on. The more the merrier!” Tom persists.

  “No, Tom. It’s a creative idea, I’ll give you that,” he says in my direction, “but as I explained to Cleo earlier, we’re all serious professionals with reputations to protect. I need people to take me seriously if they’re to trust me with their money. I urge you to really consider what the repercussions could be for your career and for your families. I feel so strongly about this, Tom, that if you go ahead with it, I’ll want to disassociate myself from the project. And if you then feel you need a different financial advisor, I’ll understand.”

  Well, fuck me sideways. That’s pretty damn definitive.

  Stodgy Mr. Serious has arrived in full force.

  CHAPTER 15

  She did it to me again, goddammit. Sprang one of her surprises on me. Only this time instead of just making me feel like a sucker, I’m also now the bad guy. And I may lose a client as a result.

  After the beautiful night we shared last night and the relationship dynamics we hashed out this morning, how could she do it? If I don’t do something to relieve the angry pressure, I’m going to explode.

  I escape my office to cool off and drive straight to the gym. Two hundred sit-ups, pushups, and chin-ups later, I’m back under control, but clueless as to what to do about Cleo.

  And I’m hungry. I grab my gym bag and drive home.

  Cleo’s car is in the garage when I remote open the doors, and I almost back out of the driveway. But my curiosity is stronger than my dread at the moment, so I go ahead and park. Taking the stairs instead of the elevator, I hope I can get into the shower before Cleo knows I’m here.

  She’s sitting in my bedroom chair, waiting for me. I steel myself for a fight, but she doesn’t even look perturbed.

  “Hi. Good workout?”

  “Yeah. I need a shower.” I strip, dumping the damp clothes in the closet before crossing to my bathroom. Hot water sluicing down my back carries away some tension. When I scrub the shampoo into my scalp, I concentrate on my breathing. By the time I dry off, I feel almost human again.

  Cleo’s still waiting in the chair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I pull on some jeans and a sweatshirt. “Not yet. I need to regain some perspective first.”

  “Okay. So it’ll be a one-sided conversation. Tony, this is about business. Your professional reputation isn’t the only thing at stake. All our names and businesses are associated with this project and will be affected by it, either way. Tom has the most to lose, of course, if he loses the Regal. He loses his family legacy, he’s wiped out financially, and he loses his dream.”

  She isn’t fidgeting through any of this, which is surprising. I’ve never seen her so self-possessed. Is this how she handles her businesses?

  She continues. “It’ll be bad for Eldon, too. If he can’t get Regal past the inspectors, it’s going to reflect on his competency, and since he’s donated his time, he’s down money, too. Plus he’ll have to deal with a wife who’s lost the family legacy and heritage.”

  Her chest inflates on a sigh. “Juliette puts her reputation on the line every time she plans one of these events. She’s already upset about not meeting the goal set out, though she may hide her upset better than the rest of us. Hers is the face people see when she’s finding donors, hers is the name people know to contact or sue. In a word-of-mouth referral industry like hers, she has to keep her face and name clean or suffer the gossipy consequences, maybe for a long time.”

  I should probably say something, offer something. But nothing comes to mind. She’s not saying anything I don’t already know and worry about. But it seems like she feels the need to recite everyone’s plight, so I’ll let her.

  “Then there’s me. I took a little hit when we didn’t make our goal last night. Not a big one, but there’s a question mark beside my name now. Can Cleo Waiteberry’s ad campaigns sell product? If the project tanks, my firm will carry it as a black mark when prospective clients are vetting ad agencies. Not only that, but all the potential business I hoped to gain through the exposure will never materialize, because I was that agency.

  “My Scanties line is established for the children’s market, but I’m putting it at risk marketing men’s boxers under the same label. Plus, I could pull down both Scanties and Avant-Garde if I can’t make the boxers pay for themselves. I have to have a powerful campaign.”

  I’ve wondered, of course. But so far, we’ve never talked about her business on anything but a superficial level.

  “When I approached you about modeling for it, I understood your refusal, and we went on without a ripple. But it’s not just about my campaign anymore. It’s also about minimizing risk for everyone. I won’t even make any money with this calendar. It’s all for Tom. Every penny. I’m hoping to get mine on the back end, with exposure to buyers I wouldn’t normally get to interact with.

  She finally shifts in the chair, takes a beat to regroup. “I know you know all this. Maybe something you don’t appreciate, though, is this: when the chips were down, I offered a creative solution to consider. Forgive me, Tony, I’m not trying to hurt you, but have you provided Tom with any solution that helps him keep his property? You’re his financial planner. I think he looks to you for exactly that kind of help.”

  Fuck.

  “You told me a while back that I was manipulative and disrespectful with some of my behaviors. That I damaged trust through those behaviors. It hurt like hell to hear it. But when I really took a look, I had to agree with you. You showed me something about myself I could fix, and I’ve been grateful for that insight.

  “May I return the favor in that same spirit of help? One of your strengths is your determination to take care of your clients by providing them with the most responsible advice and guidance possible. They trust you with their future. It’s a big responsibility. Bankers, I know, are risk-averse. I imagine financial planners are, too. But if they never take risks, if they’re, in effect, overprotective parents, and clients miss out on opportunities others are getting, doesn’t that damage trust? Can’t stodginess be as harmful as manipulation? I’ve heard you’re a financial wizard. Your mom told me how you’ve made their portfolio so strong that your dad could retire comfortably right now. What makes Tom or this project different? That’s a rhetorical question, by the way.”

&n
bsp; “Cleo—" But I have no idea what to say. There’s too much to process and too much at stake. Much more than just my reputation.

  Her face looks drawn, but her body surges out of the chair. “I’m going to go now. I have to do some work today. Thank you for sitting so long and letting me say my piece. If I don’t see you before then, I’ll see you at the office on Friday.”

  She takes two steps toward the door before pivoting. “Will you kiss me? I’m not used to having to wait for almost an entire day.”

  I’m not sure I want to do this. Oh, not that I dislike the idea of our kissing. But what if it’s our last kiss? I have a lot of thinking to do before I know the answer to that question, but if this ends up being the last time I feel her lips on mine, can we make it memorable enough?

  One thing I’m certain. If I say no to a kiss now, I’ll never get another.

  So I gather her in my arms and hold her like I always do, one hand splayed across her shapely bottom and the other at her nape.

  “Let me see your eyes, Clementine.”

  She opens them and endures my lengthy scan before I finally lower my mouth to hers and share a tender kiss.

  *****

  “Thanks, Dad, for taking off of work early.”

  “Sure, son. I can’t remember your ever asking me to do that before. So it’s something serious. And unless I miss my guess, it’s about Cleo.”

  The marina isn’t busy in the midafternoon of a week day. We walk along the narrow floating walkways to the boat Dad keeps there.

  “Yes, it’s Cleo, but there’s other stuff, too.”

  “Tell me.”

  I tell him about our time together, the manipulations, the agreements we hashed out, everything, right through today’s fiasco. Other than a few clarification questions, he just listens as I talk.

  “Better? Did you just need a friendly ear?”

  I chuckle and nod. “Probably. It does feel a little better. I wish I knew what to do about Cleo.”

  “I’m going to do the TV dad thing now and ask you: Do you love her?”

  “Yesterday, I’d come to that conclusion, yeah. Then today happened.”

  “The blindsiding?”

  “Right.”

  “I’m glad we got to meet your girl. It gives me a better frame of reference. Your mom and I watched and listened to the two of you dish the banter at each other. Mammina’s eyes glowed for days after that. She’s just sure Cleo’s the one.”

  The water’s tiny swells rolling in under the boat are soothing. “And you? Are you sure?”

  “I’ll tell you after you’ve made your own decision. In the meantime, I will tell you this: Cleo’s a spirited girl with lots of life in her. I suspect that’s part of what drew you to her in the first place. That, and those eyes.”

  “God, yes, I love those eyes.”

  My dad laughs. “I know. Your mother’s eyes are the very same, only green. So vivid they can practically pierce lead. They sure nail me, and usually at the most inopportune times.

  “But about Cleo. Sounds to me like she has a ton of things on the plus side of a pro-con list, and only one thing—maybe a big one—on the minus side. Now you have to decide whether all those plusses make up for the big minus. Because that minus will never really change. It’s part of who she is. She may try to tone it down to please you, but it’ll end up killing her spirit, and that would be a shame.

  “If the answer’s no, her plusses don’t outweigh the minus, you’re done. Let her go. But if it’s yes, her plusses outweigh the minus by enough margin that you can take it, then marry her.”

  Marriage. I let that word roll around in my brain pan. No, I’m not ready to think about that step.

  But would I have said that yesterday? Or even this morning?

  “You’re a pretty smart old man.”

  He claps me on the back. “It’s a gift. You’re just lucky to know me. In fact, you may be even luckier than that; your mom says you’re pretty much like me.”

  “Good Lord.”

  *****

  “Glenlivet, please.”

  I’m taking a chance, coming to the bar near my office. But I needed to check a few things, and I needed a Scotch.

  The bartender sets the tumbler on a napkin in front of me. I have to smile. Everything here is brown. Wainscot, floors, bar, even the granite is mottled brown. Cleo would have it redecorated in her mind before she finished her first drink.

  What have you contributed to the project? That’s what she said. It’s haunted me ever since. Aside from that gamble I thought was too great a risk for a responsible advisor to take with a client’s hard-earned cash, I haven’t done much. Let the team use my office. Protected Cleo from taking too great a risk with her money. Tried to get my client to sell his most treasured possession.

  “This seat taken?”

  I glance to my right. Nick Elliott. Will this day never end? What’s he doing here? “It’s all yours.”

  “Countdown time, huh.”

  I don’t need this today. “You tell me.”

  “I hear Tom’s having trouble meeting the electrical deadline.”

  The liquor swirls as I roll the bottom of my glass around. “You know, I’ve been wondering about that, Nick. Why, all of a sudden, after all this time, did the city throw that deadline on the Regal’s rehab?”

  When I turn my head to face him, he gives me nothing. Not even a flicker in those steel gray eyes. It confirms what my gut told me almost from the first.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You know, Nick, Tom’s a nice man with a nice family. He really believes in that theater and its place in this community. Did you really have to mess with his dream?”

  “You get this emotional about all your clients, Tony?”

  “Nah. Not usually.”

  “What’re Tom and his family going to do when the city takes over the Regal and sells it to me?”

  My smooth ancient Scotch is sitting sour in my stomach right now. Much as I want Nick Elliott’s account, right now I’d just as soon he’d leave. “Don’t get your hopes up. The game’s not over.”

  He laughs. “Really? The way I see it, you have two more days to raise nearly three hundred thousand, or the city condemns and I swoop in. Or Tom sells it to me and I swoop in. Either way, I end up with the Regal.”

  I wish to hell I knew how he finds out his information. How’d he find out how much our shortfall was? I’m sure he has his ways. He’d be a stellar mentor. “Well, if you know that much, you also know we have a couple of surprises in the works.”

  “Yeah, I hear your girlfriend came up with an idea and a plan. I’d like to meet her sometime.”

  Hot green spikes through me. Oh, no, you’re not getting your hands on her. She’s mine. Maybe.

  But no way she’s available to you.

  Fuck if Tom isn’t mine, too, and his property.

  “Nick, I have a proposition for you.”

  He grins like he’s having the time of his life. “What is it?”

  “When Tom meets his payroll and passes that inspection, you call off the city officials you’ve pinned to his tail.”

  He purses his lips. “All right.”

  “And you donate a million dollars to his Regal Theater project.”

  “A million’s a lot of money. What do I get out of the deal?”

  “You mean besides a private box seat for life?

  He nods.

  I can’t think of a thing he might want that I can offer. Except maybe…“I’ll get Cleo to pose with you in her calendar.”

  The silver-and-gunmetal head falls back and lets out a roar of laughter. “You drive a hard bargain, DePaul. I have a condition, though.”

  Please let it be something I can live with. “What condition?”

  “You can’t use a loan to make payroll.”

  How the ever livin’ fuck does he know about that?

  “Fine.”

  A smile slowly stretches across Nick’s face. “End of business, Friday.”<
br />
  “I think I lost him.”

  I’m on Juliette’s doorstep because I didn’t want to go home, and I couldn’t go to his house.

  “Tony?” she asks.

  The dam bursts, and I cry. Tears fall in big, hot streams, like I’ve been saving them up for years.

  Juliette drags me inside and closes the door. “I just made a pitcher of rebujitos. Wait here.”

  She dashes away, and when she returns, balancing a huge pitcher, we ride her elevator up to the bedroom floor. I cry the whole way. She has to guide me to the guest room because my eyes are too full of tears.

  “Here, sit for a sec. Have a drink. You know where the glasses are. I’ll go get us two suits.”

  By the time she gets back, I’m on my second rebujito.

  “Here’s your suit. Strip.”

  We get into bathing suits and go into her luxurious bathroom where she’s already begun to fill the tub.

  “Piano Guys?”

  “All right,” I sniffle.

  She punches a few keys on the mp3 player plugged into the tub controls. An agitated piano tune called “All of Me” begins and loops.

  “Okay, climb in.”

  The tub’s so freakin’ big, we can slide in side-by-side. She’s got the back warmer on, thank goodness, and “All of Me” is coming through the tub’s shell to vibrate…all of me.

  “A-a-a-a-h,” I groan, relaxing under the water recycled to maintain its 102 degrees. I start sobbing again, punctuated by the occasional hiccup.

  Juliette grips the hand that’s not holding a glass and lets me cry myself out.

  “Now, tell me,” she says.

  And I do.

  When I’m done and have finished another crying jag, she stands up to turn and sit back down, facing me. “I think you can’t do anything about Tony right now. He needs to go mope like guys do. Until he gets that out of his system, you can’t reach him.”

  “That’s true. Pour me another drink, please.”

  “So, you focus instead on the calendar. Is everything set up, or do you want my help?”

  “I left it with Janelle. She’ll be ready.”