Jac practiced Yoga breathing all the way to the Dianetti’s.
It didn’t help.
“You are a smart, confident woman,” she repeated aloud. Her finger shook and she had a hard time pressing the bell. Loud barking greeted her when Lauren whipped open the door.
“Murphy, sit,” the girl chided and then faced Jac with a mega-watt smile. “Please come in.” Lauren ushered her inside with a sweep of her arm. “The quivering mass of black fur is Murphy. He won’t bite. He was outside last night when you visited. The reason he’s shaking like a washing machine is that he has been to obedience school twice but neither time took. He desperately wants to meet you and can barely contain himself.”
Jac laughed and squatted down to pat the black lab. “Hi, Murphy. Aren’t you handsome?
Murphy considered that a green light and pounced.
“Murphy, down,” Lauren yelled a fraction late as his eagerness knocked Jac off balance. She teetered on her two inch plus heels and landed flat on her back. Murphy proceeded to lick off her expertly applied makeup. Jac laughed and closed her eyes at his wet assault as she tried to fend him off with her hands. Lauren succeeded in pulling him back by the collar and Jac opened her eyes to amused blue ones.
“You must be our esteemed dinner guest.”
The List
Velvet Vaughn
~~~
Highland Press Publishing
Florida
The List
Copyright ©2011 Velvet Vaughn
Cover Design 2014 Leanne Burroughs
Produced in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system—except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web—without permission in writing from the publisher.
For information, please contact
Highland Press Publishing,
PO Box 2292, High Springs, FL 32655.
www.highlandpress.org
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names, save actual historical figures. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
PRINT ISBN: 978-0-9846541-7-8
HIGHLAND PRESS PUBLISHING
Circles of Gold
Published by Highland Press Publishing at Smashwords
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my parents, Jim and Lana, for your love, guidance and unwavering support. Your examples of hard work, honesty, generosity and faith have been the foundation of my life. I could have never done this without you. I love you both.
Prologue
October 29, Ten Years Ago
“Who are the five guys you want to sleep with, Jac?”
Jacqueline ‘Jac’ Sera chewed her thumbnail and pondered the question. Stalling, she prompted, “Read your list again, Tash.”
Natasha ‘Tash’ Sparks’ eyes lit with excitement as she consulted her paper. “Keith Mosey, Heath Williams, Ted Harmon, Carl Gray and…” Natasha’s hand covered her mouth, muffling her last choice.
“No fair, Tash,” Nicole Southern yelled. “What happened to Brad Pitt? Are you changing your list?”
“Maybe,” Tash retorted mulishly.
Nicole shoved her backpack off the bed, plopped down next to Tash and rolled her eyes conspiratorially at Jac across the room. The three girls, together for the first time since college separated them, were lounging in Nicole’s bedroom discussing their two favorite things: re-runs of the television show Friends and boys.
The last episode of their beloved sitcom centered on the sextet’s quest to name five celebrities they wanted to sleep with. Natasha, Nicole and Jac decided to create their own lists. They would each name five guys, but couldn’t include a boy they had dated and each girl would be allowed two celebrities. Then they would place a bet on who would be the first to actually hook up with a man they selected.
“Okay, Tash, you can switch since Jac is still deciding,” Nicole offered magnanimously. “Who’s your top pick?”
Tash’s chubby cheeks flushed crimson, enhancing the sparkle in her green eyes. She twisted a strand of curly brown hair around a finger—a sure sign she was nervous. “Promise not to laugh?”
“Tash,” Jac soothed, “we would never. We’re best friends.”
“Yeah,” Nicole echoed. “Spill it.”
“What are you guys doing? Can I play?”
Nellie Smart, Nicole’s fourteen-year-old stepsister, padded into the room. Nicole openly loathed her step-sibling and she huffed loudly in annoyance.
Nellie, however, idolized Nicole and her friends and always tried to tag along. Blue eyed and blonde, Nicole was outgoing, a cheerleader. Nellie was shy, introverted, with mousy brown hair and glasses. Jac felt sorry for the younger girl and tried to be kind. She even sat with her at lunch once or twice. But the nicer she was, the more Nellie clung like a used Snuggle sheet. Jac’s charity strained her friendship with Nicole and forced her to keep Nellie at arm’s length. It wasn’t easy. The girl was doggedly persistent.
“Go away, worm,” Nicole barked.
Undaunted, Nellie flopped on the futon next to Jac and peeked at the paper on her lap. “What list is that, Jac? Can I see?” Nellie reached for the sheet.
Jac glanced from Nellie’s eager face to Nicole’s thunderous one. Hatred narrowed her friend’s eyes and the rage was aimed directly at her. Jac flipped the pad against her chest, hiding it from view. Nellie’s mouth opened on a sharp inhale. Jac knew she was being mean but hardened her heart and stuck her ground.
Nicole flew from the bed and yanked Nellie by her sweatshirt. She growled, “Get lost,” added a shove and the younger girl went sprawling face-first to the floor.
“But I just…”
“Scram.”
Nellie cast one last look at the other girls and burst into tears as she crawled from the room.
“What an annoying brat.” Nicole shot one last scornful glare at Jac. Then, as if she’d flipped some internal switch, her mood changed from furious to cheerful in the blink of an eye. “Who’s the new hunk on your list, Tash?”
Astonished, Jac shook her head. Nicole morphed from Dr. Jekyll to Ms. Hyde and back to Dr. Jekyll within sixty seconds. She slid a peek at Tash who was too busy scribbling on her paper to notice.
“Remember, you promised not to laugh.” Tash averted her eyes, sucked in a breath and blurted, “Danny Martin.”
“Danny Martin,” Jac and Nicole squealed in unison, the earlier tension forgotten. Nicole doubled over while Jac fought her own reaction. “Stop it, Nicole,” she chastised.
“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” Tash said accusingly.
“We’re sorry,” Jac apologized. “We just didn’t know you had a crush on Danny.”
“Forget it. I’m changing back to Brad Pitt.” Tash dragged the eraser across the paper.
Jac drilled Nicole with a stern look. “Don’t change it, Tash. I think Danny is a sweet guy.”
“You would,” Nicole muttered under her breath.
“You think so, Jac?” Tash’s bottom lip caught between her teeth. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Jac answered truthfully. The best way to describe shy, studious Danny would be cute…as a puppy dog or a kewpie doll. Poor guy had been voted ‘Most Likely to Become a Priest.’
Clearly bolstered by Jac’s approval, Tash clapped her hands, a wide smile splitting her face. “Your turn, Jac.”
Jac doodled on her paper and mulled over her list.
She didn’t need five slots. Only one man merited the honor in her eyes. Playing along with her friends, she scrawled four other names and tapped the paper with the pen. “Okay, I’m ready.” She announced her choices. Ty Baxter and Caleb Flinn had been two years older than the girls, and Riley Henderson was the high school football captain. Jac added him knowing he was untouchable. He’d been practically engaged to a girl from a rival school.
“And your celebrities?” Nicole prompted in a bored tone.
“Jere Lipton.” The other girls twittered their agreement of the hunky soap opera star while Jac’s mind drifted back to a warm summer evening nine years ago, a night that changed her life forever. She recalled the dark haired boy who pulled her from death’s cruel grip and in the process, irrevocably stole her heart.
Blinking to clear the memories, Jac announced, “My final pick is Matt Dianetti.”
“The Miami Knights quarterback? I wish I’d thought of him,” Tash squealed.
“So do I,” Nicole decreed.
Jac absently rubbed the spot on her cheek where Matt’s lips had touched all those years ago. Although her face had been washed a million times since then, she could feel the warm brush as if it happened yesterday.
One
May, Present Day
“Are you kidding me?”
Jere Lipton glanced balefully at the rear view mirror of his gold Porsche 911 Turbo. Flashing red lights illuminated his prized possessions’ sleek leather interior. One more speeding ticket and he would either have his license revoked or he’d have to attend driving school. “Just freaking great.”
Heaving a sigh, he eased to the side of the narrow hillside road and threw the car into park before flipping open the glove box. He jumped at the loud rap on the window and pushed the button to lower the glass. “The registration is here somewhere, Officer.” He tossed papers aside. “Is this—”
“Step out of the vehicle.”
Confused, Jere focused on the cop and his eyes locked on the black gun pointed directly at his face. Papers fluttered from his grip. “Look, I might have been speeding a bit but—”
“Step out, sir. Now.”
“Okay, okay,” Jere huffed, unbuckling his seat belt and pushing open the door. The cop kept the gun pointed firmly at his chest but stepped back to allow him to exit. Suddenly nervous, Jere surveyed the dark, deserted highway. A sharp jab in the ribs brought his gaze back to the cop. He flashed a dazzling smile. “Look, my name is Jere Lipton and I’m an actor. You can call my agent and he—”
“Put your hands in the air and move around the vehicle.”
“What’s the problem, Officer? Can’t you just give me a ticket or something and let me go?” They stopped at the edge of the pavement, the sheer vertical drop of a rocky canyon just steps away. The only light on the moonless night came from the headlights and rotating bulbs on the police cruiser. Absently, Jere noticed it had no insignia on the side. “I know I was speeding a little, but—”
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
“No cop should be allowed to treat a tax-paying citizen this way.” He did as instructed and heard a zip as the cop bound his wrist together with some kind of plastic band.
The silence was unnerving and Jere twisted to face the cop with a pleading look. Panic zipped through his veins and despite the cool evening breeze, sweat trickled down his spine.
“You’re right. No real cop would be allowed to treat a tax-paying citizen this way. Now get in the car.”
Jere assumed the cop meant the police cruiser and headed for it but the cop shoved him forward to his Porche. Confused, Jere awkwardly stumbled to the driver’s seat. The cop removed a small flask and the unmistakable smell of gasoline filled the interior. “Hey, what are you—”
The cop lifted his gun and slammed the butt into Jere’s forehead and his world went dark.
* * * *
Jac meandered around the glittering blue pool inhaling the familiar chlorine scent, savoring the comforting fragrance. Overhead lights flickered off the surface and danced across the white tiled walls. Dragging her foot through the water, she smiled as the tepid liquid glided smoothly between her toes. She stopped, dropped her towel and executed a flawless dive into the Olympic sized pool.
Jacqueline Sera had come home.
She moved effortlessly beneath the azure water before surfacing and gracefully stroked through the waves. When she reached the other side, she paused and gripped the edge. Hard to believe she’d once been deathly afraid of water. Now she couldn’t imagine her life without it.
After a fateful summer twenty years ago when a calm lake almost stole her young life, she learned to swim and took to it like, well, a fish to water. Her dad installed a pool in their backyard and she practiced until she made the high school team. Her record-setting talent led to a collegiate scholarship and she just missed making the Olympic team, an injury slowing her down.
Jac rolled her long-since-rehabilitated shoulder and pushed off the wall. Her arms arced through the water, her legs kicking in her wake. She swam another twenty laps before climbing the metal ladder and toweling off. Tossing the damp cloth at the hamper, she padded to the women’s locker room to shower. Heck, she could have gone to the men’s, she mused. After all, she practically owned the place now.
After rinsing off the chlorine, she donned her power blue business suit and applied makeup with a light touch. One last meeting with a room full of stiff bankers and she hoped to secure the funding needed to put down a bid. The neglected club had languished on the market the past three years garnering a few nibbles but no serious buyers.
Jac was serious.
If everything went according to plan this afternoon, she would walk from the bank directly to the real estate office to put in her offer. If accepted, and she was positive it would be, she’d fly back to California, quit her job, pack up her belongings, say goodbye to her friends and head East.
The old saying was wrong. You could go home again.
Two
August
“That’s not acceptable.” Matt Dianetti shoved a hand through his short, dark hair. Pain began to pound behind his temple. The mother of all headaches was building, gathering steam. “That deadline passed two months ago. The job gets done by the end of this month, another two and a half weeks, or you’ll never work for Dianetti Development again. Do you understand? Good.” He slammed down the phone.
Matt paced to the mahogany bar and poured steaming coffee into a cup. Tipping the mug, he smacked his lips as the scorching liquid burned a trail down his throat. He carried it with him to study a picture of Dianetti Development’s first property—the classic Majestic Hotel in Indianapolis. The design had been his father’s first work and he still considered it his masterpiece. Matt spun around and stared at the papers strewn across the conference table. The construction company he hired to build their latest venture—a luxury hotel and upscale boutique in downtown Indy—was months behind. Having learned from experience, he padded the actual deadline, anticipating unforeseen delays that occurred with every project. However, the date rapidly approached and advertising was already in place. An opening gala was scheduled with invitations sent weeks ago. The mayor even RSVPd her attendance. The project had to finish on time.
Sighing, he stuck a finger in the knot at his neck and loosened his tie. Pulling out a chair, he plopped down to face the mound of paperwork. People questioned his hands-on approach when he could turn the work over to subordinates. He had enough money to last a dozen lifetimes, thanks to a ten year pro football career that included two Super Bowl wins and five Most Valuable Player awards. He’d endorsed countless products over the years. He’d ensured he believed in what his face and name promoted. If the product or service was inferior, he didn’t back it.
With his first big NFL check, he established a foundation to benefit underprivileged and ill children. His mother chaired the program and they generated enough capital to hire a staff and full-time fundraisers
. He still made several appearances to increase funds and gave a hefty yearly donation.
Matt never dwelled on the late hit in the fourth quarter of his third Super Bowl, the one that shattered his leg and ended his career. Instead of living off his laurels, he packed up and moved home to take over his father’s business. Having worked at Dianetti Development during the off-season, the move had been a natural one for him and the company. His father devoted his life to making it the most successful and respected property development businesses in the Midwest—and had succeeded. But he was tired and Matt’s mom wanted to travel. Louis Dianetti turned over the reins six years ago and Matt hadn’t looked back since. Despite the hassles, he loved his job.
Thirty minutes later, the tinny ring of his cell phone jarred him from his work. No doubt another excuse from one contractor or another. Sliding his pen behind his ear, he snapped open the phone. “Dianetti.”
“Hi, Daddy.”
Matt’s expression relaxed and his voice softened. “Hi, princess. How was school? Are you home?”
“No, I rode with Cindy but she got sick and left early. Marcy offered me a ride but her driving scares me, Daddy.”
“I’m on my way.” Matt was already shrugging into his sport coat and stuffing papers into his briefcase. “How about we stop and get a pizza on the way home?”
“That sounds yummy,” Lauren Dianetti concurred. “But I don’t want to take you away from work if you’re busy.”
“Never too busy for you. Besides, I’ll take what I can get, especially since you rarely have time for your old man anymore.”
The List Page 1