He shifted his attention to the group. "Hank and I will run through the plans and the schedule today and make a list of what we need to account for and what we think it will cost to implement each measure."
Sharon grimaced. "How much do you think this will add?"
Jeff knew them well enough by now to anticipate cost would be their first concern. He would have to calculate carefully. Knowing this group, if the price was too high, they'd sacrifice their own safety.
"Maybe we can steal from other areas?" Mari's expression was determined. Several others nodded in agreement. "We could select cheaper tile? Less expensive carpet, maybe? Perhaps we can pare down the size of the new bathrooms. That part of the budget is a big chunk of what we have to spend."
Jeff was impressed by her near photographic memory of the detailed renovation budget. This project had been near and dear to her heart for a long time. "Don't worry yet. Let me work up a revised budget and we'll review each measure before we implement anything."
"We may be able to find cost savings on items that were already budgeted," Hank reminded. "The new security features may not be entirely add-on cost."
"You mean like substitutes?" Sharon brightened considerably. "Hank Freeman, you may be my new best friend. I believe I'll be buying you lunch today."
Specialty's normally reserved foreman actually grinned. "Ma'am, I'll look forward to that."
***
The collective mood was a little deflated as they adjourned, but overall, Jeff felt the meeting went well. His client was worried about budget, but still confident in Specialty's ability to resolve the problem. The most important aspect of the client relationship— almost more than the actual building— was keeping their faith. That Specialty would do what they promised. Anticipating several hours of number-crunching, he spread out the plans on the conference table, rather than load everything up to take back to his office.
His staying had absolutely nothing to do with Mari. At least— that's what he told himself. Jeff mentally repeated the lie as he traced the steps down the hall to her office. And again as he rapped on the doorframe. What was it about her that had him absolutely tied in knots?
She glanced up, her expressive blue eyes startled. "Jefferson? Do you have everything you need?"
"I'm fine. I just wanted—" To take her in his arms. To kiss her until she was so out of her mind for him they'd contemplate locking the door and- He dragged in a deep breath. "I wanted to say hello and see how you and Hector were doing."
"I— we're . . . fine. We went to visit my parents Sunday. And now— it's just . . . work."
Forcibly reining in his thoughts, Jeff took stock of the situation. Marisol was clearly nervous, her tension palpable. She'd blown off the meeting Monday. And she was avoiding him now. If he wasn't careful, she'd convince herself the sexual fireworks they experienced every time he touched her were not something she cared to explore again.
"I have a few questions from the meeting. I asked Sharon and she suggested I talk with you."
Mari chewed her bottom lip, drawing his gaze in a way he wished he had the discipline to ignore. "Of course. I thought-" Whatever she was about to say would remain a mystery. "Please have a seat."
He exhaled slowly. Crisis averted. For the moment. "Can you give me some specifics on the types of threats you receive here?"
Mari steadied her nerves. She was acting like an imbecile. Everything was not about her. Jefferson had a job to do. They had to be able to work together. Especially since Sharon would keep throwing them together no matter how she tried to avoid him. She also had to face facts. Whether she liked it or not— she felt something for him. A ridiculously strong something.
"At our current size, we don't experience a great deal of violence. But there are always cases where the potential is there and we prepare for that possibility. Once we complete the addition and we fill to capacity, I can estimate we will experience several episodes per month."
"How often now?"
Jeff stared at her with serious hazel eyes that were thinking through a problem. Despite knowing that, Mari had trouble maintaining her focus. She remembered how his eyes heated when he'd kissed her. How they'd seemed to drink her in— as though she were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Even now— with him seated across her desk— his mind on work— Mari felt the crazy, urgent need to touch him. To be touched by him. To see his control slip. The impulse was so strong it felt like a magnetic pull.
"Marisol?"
"Yes?" Embarrassed, she forcibly shook off the images crowding her brain.
"Does this door have a lock?"
Huh? She jerked herself from the self-induced haze. "Excuse me?"
His eyes darkened as his gaze swept over her. "Honey, if you keep looking at me like that— I'm going to lock that door and have my way with you."
Mortified, she pushed back in her chair, swallowing hard. "I- I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."
"There's a lot of that going around." Sitting back in his chair, Jeff grinned, enjoying her confusion. "Okay— let's try again. Approximately how many times per month does an incident occur?"
She took a deep breath and regained her footing. "Probably three times a month for the overnight guests." She mentally reviewed kitchen incidents over the past month. "And another ten times per month with feeding clients. But those occur during the day when we have a large staff to handle them."
He scribbled something on his pad. "So, it's a bigger problem at night because you have less resources to deal with it."
She nodded. "And because the abuser is so invested in his victim. During the day we mostly deal with drunks and addicts, mental illness— sometimes violent, but usually just belligerent."
Jeff focused his attention on her and her pulse jumped in response. "Give me an example— when was the last time?"
She tried and failed to hold his gaze. "Um— actually it was last night."
His entire body stilled. "Last night? There was violence here last night?"
"Yes. An ex-spouse showed up-"
"Did he get inside?" Jeff's stunned expression betrayed the reaction most people probably felt when they heard something so completely foreign to their existence.
Mari nodded. "I was leaving with Hector-" Apprehension sizzled up her spine when he sprang from his chair.
"Dammit— you were in the middle of it?"
"It's fine, Jeff. We were able to stop it before it escalated."
"It's not fine."
Before she could react, he'd rounded her desk, concern flaring in his beautiful eyes.
"Mari— are you-" His voice worried, he gently tugged her from her chair. "Is Hector okay? Were you in danger?" He ran his hands down her arms before he pulled her roughly against him in a quick hug.
Still bewildered that she was experiencing the fantasy she'd imagined moments earlier, Mari hugged him back. "We're both fine, Jefferson. Nothing happened." When he didn't speak, she pulled away from him. "Are you angry?"
"No." His mouth brushed her forehead before he reluctantly released her. "I can't seem to think straight when I'm around you," he admitted. "When we started this conversation, I never imagined thinking about the security issues with you in mind."
"My being here doesn't make a difference. It's our clients who need protection."
"It matters to me." His expression was grim as he took a step back. Jeff hesitated several seconds, his eyes uncertain. Mari realized it was the very first time she'd ever seen him appear less than sure of himself. "It's become much more personal to me."
Part of her wanted to cheer over his admission. They were obviously attracted to each other— but it appeared he may actually like her, too. In a short period of time, he'd become important to her. And how she'd allowed that to happen, Marisol wasn't quite sure. But she was startled to realize Jeff's concern felt— good. The thought that he might worry about her had warmth coursing through her heart.
"I appreciate that you’ve grown to like th
e staff here," she said, intent on placating him to allay his fears. Working in this environment had risks. But, so did every job. Working at New Beginnings meant something different but no less important to each person who chose to accept the challenge. "We all know the risks when we take this job— the volunteers, too."
"If that's supposed to reassure me, it's not working."
She tried again, intent on softening his suddenly hard, determined features. "We’re trained to deal with violent confrontations."
"Seriously? Now you're just making it worse." Jeff's eyes darkened as he closed the gap between them. As her heart began a free-fall to her stomach, he tipped her chin up. "Just so we're totally clear— I don't want to think about anyone getting close enough to hurt you or Hector."
"I understand-"
"Damn it— I don't think you do." His muttered oath was whispered against her lips before he tugged her against him. His kiss was undemanding at first— until Mari met him eagerly, more than willing to admit she'd missed him. His large, capable hands stroked down her arms before coming to rest on her hips. And the strength in them, the weight of them anchoring her to him did strange things to her heart.
She wound her arms around his neck, suddenly needing him closer. When he took the kiss deeper, her shudder rippled through them. Mari went under— adrift in sensation as his hands stroked her, then cupped her bottom to pull her closer still.
She was vaguely aware of Jeff moving— toward the door to push it closed. Dios- She'd completely forgotten where she was. The next thing she knew, she was leaning back against it as Jeff nuzzled her throat. His tongue discovered the sensitized spot on her collarbone and her knees buckled when the incredible rocket of sensation sapped her strength. No one— no one— had ever made her feel as wild as she felt every time she was with Jeff. He only had to look at her and she was his for the taking. The mere thought of him— naked— over her— in her bed made her crazy with need.
When he staggered back, she offered a half-hearted protest. His eyes glowed with frustration— and something else. Shock. Confusion.
"Jeff?" The regret in his eyes had an icy knot of worry seeping into her chest.
"Sweet Jesus, Mari." His voice hoarse, he jammed shaking fingers through his hair. "Another minute and I would have stripped you out of your clothes."
His confession melted the chill that had begun to swirl around her. "At least you remembered the door."
Dragging in an unsteady breath, he managed a smile. "I think we'd better create some distance or we'll be in trouble." When Jeff returned to his chair, she had a fleeting sense of disappointment. Straightening her blouse, she retreated to her chair— safely behind her desk— as she dealt with the slow cooling of her raging hormones. As Sharon had been so quick to remind her . . . it had been far too long since she'd-
Though she knew her face was staining pink with embarrassment, Mari could only hope her eyes didn't convey the desperation she felt. How could she want him so badly? When she barely knew him? She prayed for strength— to get through the rest of this conversation without making the situation more awkward. "We should get back to— our discussion." She swallowed around the sudden dryness in her throat. "The shelter . . . security-"
His expression turned immediately somber. "At the meeting this morning-" Jeff hesitated as though searching for the right words. "When we were discussing violence— you were the furthest thing from my mind."
"I don't understand."
"You and Hector have opened my eyes to something I'd never really given much consideration." His beautiful eyes turned thoughtful. "I know you work here . . . but I viewed this renovation— these security measures as being important for the residents." His gaze was troubled. "Don't get me wrong— I want to protect your clients."
"Then what’s your concern?"
He was quiet for several seconds. "I don't like thinking that you or Hector could ever be in danger here."
If he only knew. Her heartbeat accelerated over that truth. It wasn't only their clients who experienced violence at the hands of someone they believed loved them. Mari drew in a steadying breath. Now would probably be a good time to share her past- Yet— it felt way too soon. She wasn't ready. What happened was too personal— too horrifying to share with someone who might not be around in a month's time.
Instead, she shut her mind to the wayward thoughts. It could wait until later. Much later. Until she knew for sure what he meant to her. And to discover whether she meant anything to him.
Chapter 5
To say Jeff was floored would have been an understatement. Overwhelmed was more accurate. Staring at the plans on the conference table, he scribbled notes with Hank, but all he could see were images of Mari and Hector. In danger.
An hour later, he couldn’t shake the worry disrupting his concentration. Couldn’t understand why he was so edgy over the danger she'd casually dismissed. About the possibility of angry ex-partners showing up at New Beginnings. She'd worked there for years, Jeff reminded himself. Marisol was accustomed to dealing with their clientele. She knew what to expect and how to handle serious situations. So, why the hell was he freaking out about it? Why did he suddenly care so damn much?
All the benevolent thoughts about New Beginnings and the volunteers who worked there had to be rearranged. Suddenly, the women who lived there— who’d run there to hide— had become painfully real to him. Hyper aware of how fragile their existence was, Jeff realized he'd been deluding himself. Each and every change they discussed now held new meaning. Every lock— every bolt was significant. Because some irate nutcase could show up at the shelter and-
The cold knot in his stomach cinched tighter. Jeff swallowed around the lump of panic clogging his throat. All he could think about was what he might— God forbid— be feeling . . . for Mari. And the helpless, queasy sensation wasn't settling well with him. The acknowledgment sent jagged shards of dread slicing through his gut. Who the hell would choose to spend their life feeling like this? Only to have it end when you least expect it. Like his parents-
"Jeff? You in there?"
Words were erupting from Hank Freeman's mouth. He just couldn't seem to wrap his brain around them. His foreman tossed his hardhat on the table with a resounding clatter.
"Son— are you listenin' to me? Or is it time to change the light bulb in that head of yours?"
Blinking, Jeff turned to acknowledge his irritated foreman. Hank's insistence on maintaining a military crewcut for his salt and pepper hair meant his face tended to crinkle up like a raisin when he scowled. Consequently, he always looked more ticked off than he actually was. "Cool your jets, Colonel Cranky. I'm thinking about too many things at once."
His friend grinned. "I'll wager one of them is the hot tamale down the hall."
He glared at the older man before retrieving his pen. That Hank was right only served to piss him off. It would be a long friggin' afternoon. "That obvious?"
"Yup."
He released a frustrated sigh. Relieved to shelve the disturbing thoughts cluttering his brain, he attempted to refocus. "Okay— where were we?"
"I was reminding you that you wanted to give Miss Ortega's son a tour of the site today." Hank checked his watch. "We got thirty minutes before he'll be out of school. You want me to handle the show? Or you wanna do it?"
Jeff smiled when he remembered the child-sized hard hat sitting in his jeep. "I will. I promised Hector." He pointed to the plan of the interior hallways. "What do you think about card access for these corridors that lead to the dorm? That would eliminate any worry of outsiders getting into the living spaces."
"That could work." Hank leaned across the conference table, his brow furrowed in thought. He dragged his finger along the hallway. "If we spend the money here . . . and here, we can recoup it with good, solid locks on the rest of the doors— but save the expensive card access for where they really need it." He glanced up. "Damn, Jeffie— you're not as vacant as you look."
"And you're not as big an
ass as people say." He returned the shot with easy familiarity. They worked on the logistics of several more issues before wrapping up the meeting. While he loaded his briefcase, Hank picked up his hardhat. "I'll make sure there's some earthmoving going on when you get out there with Hector. No sense in putting on half a show."
"Great. Hector will love it. He's convinced we need his help."
Hank's face split with a rare smile. "He's probably right."
His friend continued to linger while he rolled up the plans and threw them over his shoulder. "We all set?"
"Uh— one more thing." The older man suddenly looked flustered. That rarity caught Jeff's attention right away. "Um— I was noticin' a woman in the kitchen. She seems to work every day . . . cute little thing but kinda quiet? Blonde? She doesn't wear a ring."
Jeff set his briefcase down and grinned. "Makin' fun of me, are you? And all the while, you've been scoping out the ladies."
"This is different," he protested. "I'm not lookin' for a quick score."
Like him. Hank left the obvious words unspoken. Hell— they'd always been true in the past. Against his will, Jeff's thoughts circled back to Marisol. Was this time really any different? If the panicky feeling he'd experienced earlier was any indication of what it felt like to be in a relationship— then there was no way on earth he'd allow this thing with Mari to get out of control. Relationships didn't last anyway. What would be the point in even trying? Once they finally slept together, the picture would become clear.
Sex was always the beginning of the end— where wants and needs went to die. Sure— he could last a few weeks beyond that. In truth, that was when his dating efforts paid dividends. The payoff— weeks before everything turned to crap. Before she started expecting him to check in. Before she began making demands on his time. Soon enough, it always became crystal clear when it was time to get out. "What are you looking for?"
"What everyone wants— someone to talk to . . . someone to have dinner with— to make it worth the bother of makin' dinner." Hank scratched the whiskers on his chin, warming to his topic and apparently forgetting to whom he was talking. "I miss the noise— of having someone in your life. Maybe if Gayle and I'd had kids— then the past few years might a' been easier. And harder," he amended. "But, at least I'd have had something to focus on."
Chasing Marisol (Blueprint to Love Book 3) Page 8