by Roni Loren
“Okay.”
“Work history’s labeled with blue. Not much info there. Though, she is the founder of a local charity. Gossip has the yellow tabs. Lots of that available.”
“Gossip?” he asked, glancing up from the top page, which held Tessa’s address and a newspaper photo of her in a party dress.
Maile pushed her black bob behind her ears and frowned. “Apparently, she was married to a pastor of one of those big time mega-churches in Atlanta up until a year ago. Pretty high-profile guy, Sunday sermons were broadcast on regional television, that kind of thing. The divorce made the society pages since they were a prominent couple in the area. Looks like things got nasty. Each accused the other of infidelity. She didn’t say much more than that publicly but the husband had lots to say. He accused her of being a pill popper, a gold digger, a cheater, and said she shirked her godly and wifely duties . . .”
“Wifely duties? What the fuck?”
“That’s what I’m saying. That line alone made me want to find this guy so I could kick him in his junk. Nothing was substantiated from what I can tell. And apparently this Marilyn Wallace, the reporter who penned most of the negative stories, used to be Tessa’s close friend, so that’s pretty interesting that she’d turn on her so quickly. My guess is she had some added motivation to write up the stories. But regardless, it looks like the society pages ate the shit up. The pastor’s reputation got dinged pretty good. People left his church, and he almost lost the TV slot. But looks like after some damage control, he was able to hold on to his contract and convince his congregation to give him the benefit of the doubt. She wasn’t so lucky. The press labeled her the washed up, pampered ice princess and called it a Cinderella story gone bad. Apparently, she didn’t come from money.”
No. She didn’t come from anything, Kade thought, an old sadness welling up. And he knew beyond a doubt that Tessa would have never popped pills. Tess’s birthmother had abandoned her because of drugs. In high school, Tess hadn’t even liked taking over-the-counter medicine, so that part was definitely bullshit and lies. He skimmed through a few of the documents. “Who was the guy?”
Maile flipped through the pages on her steno pad. “Um, something Barrett. Hold up, I wrote it down.”
But Kade already knew the rest of the answer, a bitter, icy cold moving through him. “Douglas Barrett.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” she said.
Kade sat back in his chair, feeling like a truck had rolled right over him. Douglas Barrett. It’d been a name he’d tried to block out of his memory completely, one that dragged him back to years he never wanted to revisit. Doug fucking Barrett. God, Tessa had gone through with it. She’d married that sociopath anyway. And had stayed with him all those years. She’d known what Doug had done that night—well, enough of what he’d done—and had still given herself to him.
For the security. The money.
Things Kade hadn’t been able to offer her.
“Boss, you okay?” Maile asked, her brows pinched together. “You don’t look so great.”
He rubbed his eyes and took a long, deep breath, doing his best to shove the past back to where it belonged. He was beyond all that. He would not let one drop of that leak in. All he was interested in was learning more about who Tess was now. “I’m all right. Anything else I should know?”
Maile pulled a paper from the bottom of the pile and slid it his way. “Last year, her charity applied to be the sponsored organization for our annual Dine and Donate event. We didn’t select them since we were focusing on homelessness last year. But they’re on the consideration list for this year since we’re planning to choose a charity focused on children.”
He perused the application in front of him. It’d been filled out by the director of Bluebonnet Place but under the founder column was Tessa’s married name. Even seeing Doug’s last name sitting next to hers made his stomach want to heave. But an idea was already forming in his head, lifting his mood a bit. “Are we close to selecting an organization yet?”
Maile sighed. “No, with Evelyn on medical leave, we don’t have anyone heading up things right now. I think PR is looking to hire someone from the outside to handle it.”
Kade smiled and pushed the application back toward Maile. “Please call the charity director and tell her we’re considering the organization, but that I insist on meeting with the founder to find out more about their work first.”
Maile narrowed her eyes, evaluating him like his grandmother did that first night he’d shown up on her doorstep. “Kade Vandergriff.”
“What?” he asked, feigning innocence.
“You have that scheming look on your face. What are you up to?”
“Me? I’m just trying to get more involved in my company’s charitable contributions.”
Maile shook her head and looked to the ceiling. “Lord, help us all. Kade’s got his eye on a woman.”
“Aww, you know you’re the only girl for me, Mai,” he teased as she rose from her chair.
She glanced back over her shoulder and stuck out her tongue. “Eww boys, gross.”
He chuckled. “I don’t blame you. I’ve seen your girlfriend. I wouldn’t leave her for me, either.”
She smirked. “So who is this Tessa McAllen to you, really?”
He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his desk and looking at the photo of Tessa again. “Guess we’re about to find out.”
SEVEN
“You should come with me,” Tessa said, anxiously flipping through the brochures and paperwork the director had handed over to her. “You’ll be so much better at this than me.”
Iris gave her a warm smile and folded her hands on top of the desk, that stern grandmotherly vibe wafting off of her. “Ms. McAllen, his assistant was very specific. Mr. Vandergriff wants to meet with the founder, not me. And no one is more passionate about this place than you are. You’re going to do great. In fact, I still don’t understand why you don’t take a position here. I’d happily step down to assistant director since I’m only a few years from retirement. This is your baby.”
Tessa tucked the papers in her bag, her palms sweaty already. This was exactly why she hadn’t appointed herself director when she moved back. Just because she had founded the charity didn’t mean she was qualified to run it. She had a high school education and a resume that could barely fill half a page. Hi, can I take your order? was much closer to her skillset than this. Doug hadn’t even let her near the financials of Bluebonnet because he said it would take too long for him to teach her what she was looking at.
How the hell was she supposed to meet with the CEO of some giant company and sound even halfway intelligent? Especially with the pressure of knowing how much was riding on this. Getting selected could mean the answer to her prayers for keeping Bluebonnet open. But if she flubbed it, the hard-working woman sitting in front of her would be out of a job and all those kids she’d passed on her way in would be out of services.
No. She wasn’t going to let that happen. She took a steadying breath. “Okay, yes, I can do this.”
“Of course you can, dear.” Iris’s dark hand covered Tessa’s pale, shaking one, giving it a squeeze. “And if this opportunity doesn’t work out, there will be more. I’ve been sending letters to lots of potential donors. Something will come through. You’ve created a good thing here. Others will see that and want to help.”
Tessa nodded, trying to absorb some of the older woman’s confidence and shake off the veil of guilt that tried to envelop her at Iris’s assertion. Yes, Tessa had created good things here by coming up with the concept and providing the funds via her ex-husband. But the day-to-day miracles belonged to the woman behind the desk and the rest of the staff. The pictures lining the walls were of kids with employees and volunteers who were in the trenches here day to day. The only photos of Tessa were one from opening day when she’
d cut the ribbon they’d tied around the building and another at an awards ceremony. In the grand scheme of it all, Tessa’s role was remote and minor at best—the face of the charity but not the backbone. That fact hadn’t bothered her before, but now it dug into her gut like a burr, sticking there and reminding her of its presence with every breath.
She so didn’t deserve to be the person representing the charity to some bigwig donor today, but it looked like there was no way around it. And maybe, if by some miracle she could pull this off, it would help make up a little for her hands-off approach the last few years.
She gathered all of her documents and stood. “Thank you, Iris, for the pep talk and for everything you do here. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the way you put your soul into this place.”
Iris rose from behind her desk and came around to give Tessa a hug. The move made Tessa stiffen with surprise, but soon she found herself returning the gesture. Iris pulled back and patted Tessa’s cheek. “It’s my pleasure, dear. And we’re glad to have you here in town with us now. That man was no good for you.”
Tessa laughed, caught off guard by the woman’s candor. Usually, she was the consummate professional, never uttering an unkind word toward anyone, except maybe the occasional bless his heart. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”
“Now, go get us that money, girl,” Iris said with a grin. “And don’t you be a stranger around here. This is your home as much as it is ours.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tessa said, feeling an old twinge at the word home. That simple word had always been such a fleeting concept in her life. Any time she thought she had fledgling roots starting to dig in, the sand shifted beneath her again and the rain washed them away. And here once more, life was trying to pull something else out from beneath her.
No, not life this time. Doug.
The bolt of anger that flashed through her at the thought had her shoulders pulling back and her chin tipping up. No freaking way was she letting him win.
No matter what she had to do, she was going to get this money.
She gave Iris a quick good-bye and headed to her car with renewed resolve. Watch out, Mr. CEO, because Tessa McAllen wasn’t taking no for an answer today.
Tessa’s confidence flagged slightly when she arrived downtown and stared up at the gleaming building that held Vandergriff Industries, but she didn’t have time to let all the insecurities rush back in. Her appointment was in less than fifteen minutes, and being late was not an option. She hurried to the bank of elevators and punched the button for the twenty-second floor. On the ride up, she read over the bullet points she’d typed into her phone and practiced her spiel in her head.
Fake it ’til you make it. The little tome Sam had offered kept replaying in her mind. If Tessa acted like she was confident and well-informed, people would believe it. That was the theory at least. And she was well-informed about the charity. Confident? Well, that’d require the faking part.
When she reached the office of Kade Vandergriff, a serious-faced Asian woman lifted a hand in greeting from behind her desk but was on the phone. She motioned for Tessa to have a seat and that she’d be a minute. Tessa sat in one of the cushy chairs along the wall and fought the urge to gnaw on her thumbnail—a childhood habit that liked to resurface at the worst times. Waiting rooms had never been happy places for her. Child services. Principals’ offices. Therapy sessions. Police stations. Waiting rooms usually meant bad news.
The woman put the phone in its cradle and came around the desk to greet Tessa. “You must be Ms. McAllen.”
Tessa stood and put out her hand. “Yes.”
“I’m Maile, Mr. Vandergriff’s assistant.” She shook Tessa’s hand and gave her an almost undetectable once-over, her eyebrow lifting slightly as if she was surprised by what she found. Maybe she’d been expecting an older woman, someone more distinguished to be the founder of a charity.
“Nice to meet you.”
Maile smiled, and it changed her whole face, bringing effortless beauty to the surface. “Same. I’ll let Mr. Vandergriff know you’re here. He should only be a minute.”
“Thank you.”
Maile slipped back behind her desk and lifted the phone again while punching a button. “Ms. McAllen is here to see you.” She gave a quick nod. “Yes, sir. I’ll send her in.”
Tessa gripped her documents close to her chest, butterflies the size of velociraptors crashing around in her stomach.
“You can go on in,” Maile said, indicating the door behind her.
Tessa thanked her and took a deep breath, then headed toward the door, letting her I’m-totally-calm-and-confident mask slip into place. She’d practiced that facade with every new school she’d started, every new family she’d been placed with. Don’t let anyone see fear. The knob turned with ease in her hand, and she pushed the door open.
But the face that greeted her on the other side had all her plans tumbling into a free fall like a plane with broken wings. She could almost hear the whine of wind rushing past her ears. Mayday, mayday! Boom! Crash!
Van, no, Mr. Vandergriff, smiled and stood. “Hi, Tessa, why don’t you shut that door behind you and come on in?”
She blinked, realizing she’d frozen there in the doorway like some slack-jawed sculpture. She cleared her throat, her skin flushing from foot to crown. “Right, of course.”
She shut the door and somehow found her way across his very large, very posh office and stopped in front of his desk. The vision of him standing there in his expensive pinstripe suit with the view of downtown Dallas framed behind him in the large corner-office windows was almost too much to take in all at once. He’d exuded confidence on Friday night, but this version of him almost made her tip backward in her heels with the force of his presence. He took the papers from her grasp and set them on the desk, then took her hand between his. “I’m so happy to see you again and to see that you’re all right after the other night. You are okay, right?”
“Uh, yeah.” She stared at him, lost for a moment in that penetrative blue gaze, the memory of that night stirring both arousal and embarrassment. She’d been so wanton with him . . . and way too honest. This man hadn’t just seen her naked, she’d told him things that you only tell your closest friends—or people who you thought you’d never see again. “You gave me a fake name.”
She cringed at her accusatory tone. Damn, that wasn’t what she’d meant to say.
He released her hand, amusement flashing through his eyes as he motioned for her to take a seat. “No, I gave you a nickname I occasionally use. And you weren’t totally forthcoming on the name bit either, Tessa, so maybe we should call it even.”
She sat down, ready to explain, but as the present moment finally settled in around her, it hit her that though she was reeling, he didn’t seem at all surprised to see her there. “You knew it was me who was coming today.”
He gave an enigmatic smile. “We have a lot to talk about.”
She glanced down at her stack of brochures, suddenly remembering why she’d come there today. Oh, God. How in the hell was she supposed to pitch her children’s charity to a guy who’d licked olive oil and orange juice off her boobs? She wanted to put her face in her hands and die right there. That would be easier than suffering through this conversation. “I don’t even know where to start. This . . . I wasn’t expecting . . .”
“Tessa,” he said, cutting off her rambling with a firm but kind voice. “Don’t be embarrassed. We’re both adults, and everything is fine. How about we get this business stuff done first? Then we can tackle anything else afterward.”
She rolled her lips inward and nodded, doing her best to regain her composure. “Sounds good.”
He leaned back in his chair and hooked an ankle over his knee, as if settling in to evaluate her, but he started talking before she could begin her speech. “First, let me explain a
little about our event so you know what we’re looking at. Every year, Vandergriff Industries gathers the top restaurants in the city, not just the ones we own, to participate in a large, upscale wine and food event called Dine and Donate. Each restaurant who participates sends a team to man a booth that sells appetizers and cocktails to attendees. We try to have at least thirty restaurants participate so that people have a variety of cuisines to sample. We also book local bands to play throughout the day and then usually a well-known act to headline the night. All proceeds go to the selected charity for that year.”
“Wow, sounds like a major undertaking,” she said, already imagining how much money something that large scale must bring in for the lucky charity.
“It is,” he agreed. “And we’ve been very successful with it over the last few years, which is why so many charities solicit us now.”
She wet her lips, nerves creeping back in as she pictured a line of worthy charities wrapping around the building, hoping to be the chosen one.
“And we wish we could select them all, but the biggest impact comes from choosing the one each year where we can really make a significant difference.”
“Right.”
“So,” he said, leaning forward and putting his forearms on the desk, “tell me why being selected would make a significant difference to your charity.”
His laser gaze pinned her to the spot, and it felt like her tongue dried out and shrunk to half its size. She fiddled with opening the brochure in front of her while trying to find her voice. “Well, I brought—”
His hand landed over hers, stilling her nervous movements. “No, don’t read to me about it. Tell me, Tessa.”
She looked up, her heart doing a discordant drumroll against her ribs. This was her chance, Bluebonnet’s only chance to survive right now. All those people and kids were counting on her. She couldn’t freeze up like a frightened mouse or screw this up because she happened to be intimidated by/attracted to/left speechless by this man. She nodded and he released her hand.