by Kally Ash
“Do you think about it?” he asked in a husky voice.
She threw a glance in Vee and Beau’s direction to find them deep in conversation. “What?”
“How fucking amazing we were together.”
“No.” Yes. “I have better things to do with my day.”
“What are you two whispering about over there?” Vee asked. They both jerked their heads up like they’d been caught touching something they shouldn’t have been, which she supposed was true. She was sure angry sex with the best man was not listed in the Insider’s Guide to Wedding Planning, but she was an adult. She was mature. She could simply forget that it ever happened....
If John would stop looking at her like that.
“I was just asking Natasha what she did for work,” John lied smoothly, turning his body so that he faced the table again.
“Oh, well, Natasha is a lawyer,” Evangeline said.
John’s gaze darted back to her, his mouth tilting up at the side. “Is that so?”
“That’s right.” Placing her napkin on the side of the table, Natasha stood up and John did too. She glared at him, wondering what the hell he was doing. “Excuse me. I need the ladies’ room.”
As she stepped away from the table, she glanced over her shoulder to find John sitting back down, Beau looking at him with a smirk. Whatever. She weaved between the tables, dodging the servers as they worked like an army of ants to deliver food and clear tables. On the other side of the restaurant, she found the ladies’ room and pushed inside. She was quick using the facilities and drying her hands.
Back out the door, she braced herself for round two. It was strange though—she thrived on the intensity of the courtroom, of thinking on her feet when she had to, of knowing all there was to know about a person, or an event, but with John she felt strangely off-balance, which meant she was more likely to do something stupid rather than think it through rationally. Case in point: Friday night at the engagement party.
When she arrived back, the server was just leaving the table, punching something into the iPad.
“I ordered you a cobb salad,” Vee told her as she sat back down. “And another martini.”
She looked at her friend. “I freaking love you.”
“I know you do.”
Natasha finished the rest of her drink in anticipation of the next one. “How are the wedding plans going?”
Vee beamed. “Great! We’ve been talking to suppliers and venues. In fact”—she glanced at Beau and rested her hand on his on top of the table—“I think we’ve decided on a venue.”
“That’s great,” John replied, and Natasha tried not to roll her eyes. Kiss-ass.
“Where? Please don’t tell me Mexico.”
Beau laughed. “No. There’s a place at Big Sur that packages everything together. We’re hoping to check that out soon, but we’re on a wait list. They said they’re booked out every weekend for the next six months.”
“Damn,” she murmured. She knew that securing a venue was the hardest part. Once you had that, you had the date, then like a giant star, everything else revolved around it.
“I thought you guys wanted a short engagement,” John said, and Natasha stared at him. Why didn’t she know this?
“Yeah, we did, but our needs and wants are two separate things.”
“Ah, I see.” John picked up his drink and took a sip, shooting her a wink.
She probably would’ve slapped that grin off his face too if they weren’t in public. But then again, maybe not. She had a feeling her heightened emotions—whatever they happened to be—would land her in serious trouble with a man like John.
She cleared her throat and resettled in her chair.
“Dirty martini,” someone announced.
A waiter had pulled up at the side of their table and he was smiling at Natasha. She let her eyes drift down, taking him all in.
“Mine,” she growled, blatantly checking him out. Fuck you, Johnny-Boy.
“Of course,” the guy replied with a heated look, placing down a cocktail napkin first and then the drink. Looking up at everyone else, he said, “And I have two beers and a sparkling water.”
After distributing the drinks, he gave her another smile, then wandered off.
“Jesus, Natasha, I don’t know how you work so quickly.”
She turned to look at Beau. “Sorry?” she asked innocently, loving the way the muscle in John’s jaw was jumping.
He gestured to her drink.
“And?” she prompted.
Vee picked up her glass and pointed at the number and name scrawled on the napkin. “When did you even speak to him?”
“I didn’t,” she replied, staring at the digits, then glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the bar.
“It looks like your bed doesn’t stay cold for very long,” John added, like the guy had a fucking opinion on her love life. Fuck him.
She smiled sweetly. “It doesn’t.”
Twelve
The next morning, John stood at the valet’s desk, waiting for his car to be brought around. He’d intended on taking another Uber, but he figured driving himself to the orphanage would be better since he needed to find his way there given he’d be going a lot.
He kept his eyes on the driveway, knowing that when his beat-to-shit Corolla came gunning out, he wanted to be in and out of there ASAP. There was no way his car could compete with the likes of the Lexuses, Jags, and Teslas that were parked all around. It wasn’t even like they were one-off look-at-me shinies. There were so many around LA that his mid-’90s Japanese-built car looked like the odd one out.
As the valet parked his car and got out, John walked as quickly as he could without looking like he was hauling ass and got behind the wheel.
“Thanks, man,” he said, palming a ten-dollar bill and passing it through the window.
“You’re very welcome, sir,” the kid said, walking back to his station. John had the immediate thought that the guy probably hadn’t even been born yet when his car had been at the height of its popularity. Annnnd that was a sobering thought.
Punching the address for the orphanage into Google Maps, he let the voice on his phone guide him to Skid Row. As he drove, he could see the decline of the neighborhood. Everything became less glossy, more used. There were homeless people sitting out on the pavement, all their worldly possessions sitting beside them. As he arrived at the orphanage, he found a parking lot out back and he was glad he only drove a Corolla. If he’d had anything flashier, he would’ve been worried about it getting jacked.
Grabbing his laptop and his bag, he got out, locked things up, and walked around the front of the gray stone building. Up the well-worn stairs, he paused at the new-looking glass and steel door that protected the occupants. At least they were smart about security. Inside, he was transported to the time when he’d been at boarding school. It smelled the same—of lemon furniture polish and floor wax. Even the formal wood paneling around the anteroom was the exact same as had been installed at his school.
His footsteps echoed off the floorboards, the sound drawing the attention of a nun, who poked her head out a door on his right.
“Mr. Baxter?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“I’m Mother Catherine Marie.” She held out her hand to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You too.” He glanced around. “So this is where Robert grew up?”
At the mention of his boss’s name, the nun positively glowed. “Oh, yes, Robert is but one of our success stories. He was with us from age four, right through until eighteen. In fact, he was our first boy to ever go to college.”
John smiled. “He’s still as determined, even now.”
“Oh, that’s good to hear. Would you like to take a look around before we begin?”
“Please. That would be amazing.”
“You can leave your bags in my office. They’ll be quite safe.”
After John deposited his laptop, he followed the Mother
Superior down a corridor that ended with a set of double doors. On the other side of them, a simple staircase ran up to a second floor on the left, and directly in front of him was another set of doors. As soon as they went through there, the sound of kids’ laughter could be heard.
“This is the actual dormitory wing.”
“All in one building?” he asked, looking around. There had to be at least seven partitioned areas. Peering through the windows of one of the rooms, he saw twin beds lined up in rows but little of anything else. Mother Catherine Marie rattled off numbers, information pertaining to the orphanage and the kids who called the building home, but there was only one thing John really focused on, and that was how little room they really had. Everyone was jammed in—absolutely packed in like sardines.
“So, you can see that we’re in dire need of another dormitory wing.”
“I can see that,” he replied. “Robert said he was offering our services free of charge, but... forgive me, where is the money coming from to pay for all of this construction?”
Nobody worked for free in a town like LA.
The nun positively beamed. “We have—”
“Sorry I’m late!” someone called from the doorway. John turned around and almost swallowed his tongue.
Natasha’s wide eyes went from the Mother Superior to him. “Fuck... err, sorry!”
The elderly nun waved away the apology and hugged Natasha. “I’ve become accustomed to the way you speak, Miss Fraser. I’m glad you made it.”
“Sorry I’m late. I had to tie up a few loose ends with work.”
“Of course, of course.” Mother Catherine Marie took her by the arm and brought her over to where John was standing.
“Miss Fraser, I’d like you to meet the architect who will be helping us with this project. Mr. Baxter, this is Natasha Fraser.”
He held out his hand to shake hers because that was the right thing to do, but he was so confused.
“And now we shall begin the meeting,” the nun called, walking back the way they’d come with her hands folded behind her back. Natasha followed her, leaving John to catch up.
Taking her by the elbow, he said quietly, “What are you doing here?”
“I’m heading the expansion plans.”
Okay, now he was really confused. “I thought you were a lawyer.”
“I am,” she replied, tearing her arm free and catching up to the rather sprightly Mother Superior. He followed them into an office and nodded at the other woman already sitting at a desk.
“Mr. Baxter, this is my assistant, Sister Mary Lazarus. Please take a seat.” She motioned to the two seats in front of the desk and John hung back, waiting for Natasha to make the decision on where she wanted to sit. He took the other seat, crossing his leg—ankle to knee—and waited.
“Would either of you like a refreshment? Coffee perhaps?” Mary Lazarus asked.
“I'm fine, thank you, Sister,” Natasha answered, keeping her eyes forward.
“I’m okay too. Thank you.”
“Fine. Good,” Mother Catherine Marie said. “I thought we could have a light discussion in here together before we start going into more complex detailing for the expansion.” She looked to Natasha, who sat up a little taller.
John said, “Forgive me, but I thought you were just a lawyer. Are there some legal implications involved with this project that I’m unaware of?”
Catherine Marie cleared her throat. “Miss Fraser is not just a lawyer, Mr. Baxter. She’s our benefactor.”
Thirteen
Natasha could feel John staring at her. She wasn’t sure whether he was impressed or confused, but it was probably a little of both. She’d certainly been thrown for a loop when she saw him standing in the middle of the dormitory—in her space—when she’d walked in. She knew the architect was coming in today, but she had no idea it was John. She hadn’t even known he was an architect. She guessed she could file that under well-duh now.
Why did God hate her so much?
The guy just kept being thrown into her life.
Clearing her throat, she addressed the room, making sure to occasionally glance in John’s direction. He may have seen her naked, but he was the professional in this meeting and she had to respect that.
“I’m not going to pretend that I know anything about architecture, because I don’t, but there are things I would like in this building. I’m sure the Mother Superior has a list of wants too and since she’s on the front line, her ideas should be seriously considered first and foremost. What I’m hoping for is some overlap between my wants, the needs of the kids and the orphanage as an organization.”
“Very well said,” Mother Catherine Marie added. “But I only have one real need here. We need more space to house more children. How that space is laid out I will leave in your capable hands, Mr. Baxter. We’ll need at least one hundred more beds.”
“A hundred,” John murmured. Bending down, he pulled out his laptop and fired the thing up. He turned his attention to Natasha. “Okay. What else?”
She sucked in a breath and let it out. “A breakout space but also a quiet zone. Maybe we could extend the current rec room to make a better breakout room, then add a quiet zone in the new extension?”
“Great idea,” John replied, making notes, his long fingers flying over the keyboard. He looked up at her. “Have you considered an IT room though?”
For at least two hours, the ideas had flowed, and Natasha was surprised to find she’d actually enjoyed talking to John. He had a lot of great ideas, many of which she hadn’t even considered. As she glanced at her watch, she interrupted the conversation.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, addressing everyone in the room. “I have another meeting in thirty across town.”
John stood up as she did, the same as he did at the restaurant and she gave him a small smile. Apparently, he was Mr. Manners. Slinging her handbag over her shoulder, she said her goodbyes to the Mother Superior and Mary Lazarus, then stopped when John said, “I'll walk you out.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” she told him, slightly flustered.
“Please. I’ll be back in a moment, ladies,” he told the two nuns who smiled and beamed and lapped up his good manners and charm.
Leaving the office, she didn’t wait for him, just made a beeline for the front door. He caught up to her easily and she cursed her high-heel shoes for slowing her down.
“Can we meet up for a coffee later?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder but didn’t stop. “I don’t think so.”
“Dinner, then?”
“No.”
“Why not, Natasha? I just think we could discuss these plans in greater length.”
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” Pushing through the door, she traversed the steps and walked around the front of the building to cut back to the parking lot.
“You’re going to have to see me soon, you know!” he called. He was standing on the top step, grinning at her.
Like hell, she thought. She could totally ignore the guy until the wedding. Then once that was done, she’d probably only ever have to see him once, maybe twice a year for birthdays and holidays. Piece. Of. Cake.
Walking up to her car, she pulled on the handle and the lights flared as it unlocked. As soon as she got in, she started the engine but then didn’t move. She just sat there for a moment and breathed. Goddamn it, John was just getting better and better. He was confident and direct, compassionate and flexible. She already knew he was a magnificent lover, but she was trying so hard to hate him.
Shifting the car into reverse, she left the lot and saw that John was still standing on that top step. He raised his hand in a wave, but she didn’t bother to return the gesture. She peeled out of the lot and put her foot down.
She made it back to the office in record time. Before going to the orphanage, her boss had emailed her to ask if she’d come and speak to him after lunch. A quick stop at her office to put down her bag and then she w
as knocking on the door.
“Come in,” he called.
She shut the door behind her and sat down in one of the two chairs placed in front of his desk.
“Natasha, how are you?”
She crossed her legs. “Great.”
“Good. That’s good,” he said, propping his elbows onto the blotter and steepling his fingers under his chin. He was looking at her intensely and she tried not to fidget.
“You said you wanted to see me?”
“I did.” Reaching into the top drawer of his desk, he pulled out an envelope and slid it across the flat surface to her.
“What’s that?”
“Open it, Natasha.”
Rubbing her hands on her slacks, she reached out to take the blank envelope and opened it up. Inside was a folded sheet of paper. Unfolding the thing like it was a bomb, she stared at the number in the middle of all that blank space.
$800,000.
She glanced up and then back down, her eyes drifting around the sheet of paper, looking for more clues. There at the top of the header were the names King & Fraser.
And Fraser?
Her head jerked up. “Sir?”
Mr. King was grinning at her, his face practically splitting in two. “I can’t lose you, Natasha. I know the sharks are circling, so that”—he pointed at the piece of paper shaking in her trembling hands—“is my offer to you. Eight hundred thousand is your starting salary as my partner.”
“Jesus.” She placed the paper into her lap and let out a breath.
“Please tell me that’s a yes.”
“Jesus,” she said again. She didn’t know what to do. Yesterday it was turning down one of the biggest firms in LA, and today it was being offered her dream… Or was it her father’s dream? She didn’t know anymore.
“You need time to think about this,” Mr. King said. He actually sounded disappointed.
She started shaking her head, unable to process everything. “Mr. King, you have no idea how much I appreciate this…”
“But it’s a lot to think about. I understand that.” He straightened in his chair. “How about you take the rest of this week off and next week too to think it all through. I want you here, Natasha, and I’ve seen the stress you’ve been under. You’ve been working nearly seven days a week for the past twelve months. You need a break.”