by Lyz Kelley
“I wasn’t sure what you ladies might like for lunch, so I had the chef prepare a little of everything.”
Haley saddled one of four open-backed, modern stools. “Comte cheese. Yum. My favorite.”
Weston lifted a small plate, taking off the plastic wrapper and pushing the stylish dish in Haley’s direction.
“And cracked pepper crackers. Sa-weet.”
He laughed when Haley popped a whole cracker in her mouth.
Courtney rested her bag on the marble counter, too busy watching the friends interact to say much. Linda prepared a turkey breast and cheese sandwich and loaded her plate with veggies.
“Courtney, would you like something to eat?” Linda asked.
“I…uh…sure.”
“Help yourself,” Weston handed her a plate.
The warmth of his skin against hers and his smiling eyes made her sigh with surprised longing. He hung onto the plate too long and, like a fool, she didn’t pull away. This close, his blue irises with darker outer rims reminded her of summers spent on Point Pleasant Beach, standing on the shore, looking out to where the ocean met the sky.
The remembered sound of seagulls, the scent of salty brine, her brothers playing football in the sand, her dad and mom hanging out under a beach umbrella reading or dozing, took her back in time. The cozy, happy memory was darkened with sorrow, though. If she had only known that summer would be the last family vacation, or that three years later she’d discover how cruel the world could be, she might have savored each moment more.
“Hey, boss, should we reschedule this meeting? Seems you two might have your own agenda.” Haley wrapped her arm around Linda’s shoulder. Both grins matched.
Courtney could guess what the two women found so funny, but they were wrong. Totally wrong. She didn’t have room in her life for men. Any man. Especially not Weston Carver.
She took a step back. “Should we get on with the meeting? There is a lot to discuss.”
“Ah, yes. The meeting.” Weston picked up the plate his chef had pre-prepared and walked toward a rectangular dining room table with eight cream fabric chairs. The drawn sheers framed a view of some of the city’s most impressive architecture.
Weston pushed the centerpiece aside and set his plate to the right of the center of the table, not in the power position at the end as Courtney expected. He lifted an extra water jug and filled four glasses.
Courtney followed with her plate and her backpack slung over her shoulder. Not sure where to sit, she waited for everyone to get settled.
“Here, let me help,” he pulled out a chair for her.
Grateful for the clarification, she sat and tucked her backpack under the table next to her feet.
“Before we review your business plan,” Weston walked around the edge of the table, “there is a more urgent item we need to discuss.”
She gripped her thighs to keep from getting up and running out the door.
Weston sat and leaned in to focus on her. “That’s why I’ve invited Haley and Linda here today. I’m proposing we restructure next month’s Empower House fundraiser to secure funds for your building.”
“I thought you would buy the building and let me lease it back from you.”
“Change of plans,” Weston reached out to touch her, but she flinched back.
I knew it. The metal doors of the trap she anticipated began to close, locking her inside.
Weston must have seen her disappointment and doubt, because he leaned back, his jaw muscles pulsating. “The owner has refused to sell the building to me, so we’re changing plans.”
Ohhh. She slumped with relief. “I see.”
“I will secure that building. I promised you I would.”
“Weston has asked the fund-raising planner to change the event focus to securing the donations necessary to purchase your building. Because of this change, your first thirty days will be critical,” Linda added, forcing Courtney to rise above her dejection. “Donors will be finicky about the change in management and will need to see results.”
Courtney barely managed to stifle her gasp. “You expect me to implement my plan in thirty days? That’s not possible.”
Weston stopped in the middle of taking a bite out of his sandwich. “That would be a mighty big task to pull off on your own. It would be for anyone. But my sources tell me there are more than two dozen employees at Empowered who are ready and motivated to help you. No one enjoys working for an organization that isn’t run well. Together, people can accomplish some pretty surprising things. I’ve seen it happen.”
“So have I,” Courtney pushed her plate back, her appetite now gone. “But getting people working together takes time. Plus, what I’m proposing is a lot of change for an organization to absorb all at once.”
Weston’s expression spoke of approval. “I’ve asked Linda to schedule a meet-and-greet tomorrow to introduce you to the house managers and help you transition into your role.”
“That’ll be very helpful.” She sighed, her leg vibrating under the table with nervous energy. “What can I do to prepare?”
“Where would you like to start?” Weston asked.
A cloud covering the sun shifted and blanketed the room with light. She brought her awareness inward. The negative energy buzzing around her all day lifted. A lightness—or was it a feeling of freedom?—trickled in. All because of three people who cared for each other had come together to help a stranger.
That’s what she was, a virtual stranger, and because of the trust of one man, they were willing to set their individual feelings aside.
Trust. Such a fragile thing.
“Where would you suggest we begin?”
Chapter 10
“Let’s take a step back.” Weston wiped a smear of mayonnaise off his mouth with his napkin. “Linda, do you have copies of the event schedule? Let’s start with reviewing the sequence of activities. There’s still time to implement changes if they aren’t major.”
Linda reached inside her folder. “Courtney, I’d like to add your bio in the event email reminders,” Linda handed out the schedule and an additional piece of paper she slid in front of Courtney. “I’ve created a draft for you to review. Feel free to make changes.”
“Haley, could you interview some women who have transitioned out of the shelter if Courtney gives you a list?” Weston asked. “Their stories might add a nice flavor to the event and provide a personal touch.”
Courtney expected Haley to object, but she just typed a note into her phone, accepting the task.
“I’ll also speak to the marketing department and see if they can loan us one of the copywriters to create vivid profiles of those who want to participate.” Weston made a note of his own.
Excitement buzzed through Courtney and warmed the tops of her ears. “There are a few ladies I might like to have attend the event and tell their stories personally, if there’s time in the schedule, and if you agree their success journeys are appropriate.”
“Great idea,” Weston’s encouragement filled her with hope.
The additional publicity would be the boost she needed to help connect women to the resources that would help improve lives.
“Thank you for including me,” she acknowledged each professional at the table, and then let her eyes rest on Weston.
“Of, course.”
Of course, he says. Like all executives were as inclusive and generous.
If she’d first met him in this luxurious facade of gold and marble, her impressions would have been different. No way would she have approached him, or even been tempted to take the job he offered. Now, surrounded by chic designer furniture, he stuck out like a contrasting color, slightly more mellow. He didn’t suit this house, and yet he did. His elegant style left her beguiled. Yet his inclusive approach made her feel comfortable, welcomed, and appreciated. His personality seemed too warm for his home’s cold, pristine formality.
“Let’s review your plan, shall we?” Weston offered.
; Over the next hour, ideas were vetted and plans solidified. For the first time since college, Courtney felt inspired and connected with equals. She went into business for herself because she couldn’t conceive of a scenario where she and her ideas would be welcomed.
But she now knew she was wrong about her concepts not being accepted, and about men not being able to work with women. Weston provided a different view of her proposal—not a critical take, just one that made her think more long term. His insights were brilliant. He had earned his success.
“Hey, boss, I’ve got another meeting,” Haley stood, and tapped Linda on the sleeve. “And don’t you need to lock up the office or something?” Haley leaned an inch closer, stared at Linda wide-eyed while almost invisibly angling her head toward the door.
“Oh! Look at the time. Yes. The office. I must be going.” Linda gathered her papers and shoved them into a folder.
Haley stacked and balanced the lunch dishes along her forearms.
“Here, let me help,” Courtney offered.
“Nope. You sit. I got this.”
Linda tossed her folded linen napkin on the table. “I’ll send out a meeting invite for the event schedule review tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder while heading toward the stairs.
“See you tomorrow, boss.”
“Yes, tomorrow,” Weston lifted a dismissing hand, although he didn’t take his eyes off Courtney.
She waited for the pair to glance back around the corner, but then the door alarm sounded, announcing their departure.
Weston gathered up the remaining silverware and napkins. “I can clean up. You don’t have to stay.” He splashed soap and water over the utensils in the sink.
“Based on the size of your house, I would have thought you employed a housekeeper.”
“I do. She’s on maternity leave.” Weston shrugged. “I need little, so I didn’t bother finding a replacement. Marta will be back next month, and in the meantime my mother keeps sending her staff over to ensure my home meets her standards. I keep telling her I know how to load a dishwasher and run a vacuum.”
She gasped. “You put your crystal in the dishwasher?”
“If it breaks,” he shrugged, “I buy new.”
Some people have more money than sense. “I suppose when you’re a billionaire, you don’t have to worry about keeping your good stuff nice.”
He stiffened and muttered something while she followed him into the kitchen and set plates on the island.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.”
He didn’t look at her while he opened a lower cabinet door to reveal an empty trashcan and scraped the food scraps into the bin.
From the muscles ticking along his jaw and standing out on his neck, and the way the room filled with thickening silence, she got the feeling his mood had turned cold.
“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.
His head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “Money can’t buy happiness, and it can’t bring loved ones back. And money doesn’t always solve problems. Sometimes it only makes them bigger.”
Her mind prompted her to back up, but her body leaned into the conversation. She inhaled his fresh linen scent, and handed him another plate. “According to the man with lots of money to spend.” Courtney lightened her tone, hoping to coax a smile out of him.
His mood had turned dark, but she wasn’t afraid.
She tilted her head. “If you only had one day to live, how would you spend it?”
“Serving food to the homeless,” came the instant reply. “I’d like the entire city to have enough to eat, if only for one day.”
“You’d spend your last day among strangers?” Her pitch rose in disbelief.
“Not strangers. I would recruit friends and family to help me set up serving stations across Manhattan. It would be a day of giving. I would be with those I care about,” he picked up a sponge and scrubbed mustard off the white marble while a smile bloomed and spread across his face. “It’d be one helluva way to be remembered.”
Surround yourself with five people who inspire and challenge you, her favorite saying, reverberated and settled in. Weston challenged her. He was making a difference in New York, and throughout the world, even though still in his thirties. She might learn something from this man, and he would continue to push her beyond what she thought possible. Her eagerness to absorb and expand drew her in closer.
“How would you spend your day?” he asked while rinsing out a glass.
“Funnily enough, I’d like to do the same. The day wouldn’t be as fancy, but it would be no less fulfilling.”
He stopped what he was doing, dried his hands, then folded his hand around hers. Just that small touch roused several spots that hadn’t been satisfied in awhile.
“I expected that about you. It’s nice to know my instincts weren’t wrong.”
When he began to move away, she rotated her hand and held on, accepting and welcoming his goodness.
His opposite hand lifted to swipe her bangs aside, then slid down her cheek and around the back of her neck. “I would like to kiss you now.”
She pushed him away. “I…uh…no. I can’t.”
“Understood.” He moved to the other side of the island. “I misread your signals. I’m sorry. My instincts aren’t as good as they once were.”
“I…uh…” Her mind blanked.
“I thought—no. No excuses.” He scratched at his stubble. “I’m sorry.”
Maybe he hadn’t misread the signal. She did want to savor him. The light, fresh, delicious scent of his cologne made her think he might taste even better. Her skin craved his touch. She hadn’t allowed a man to touch her in months—or years, if she eliminated social hugging.
“I find you very attractive, Ms. Kramer, but it’s best if you’re not alone with me in my apartment. You should leave.”
“I’m sorry. I just had a knee-jerk reaction.” Her heart pounded in her ears. “Does this mean our deal is off?”
His eyes darkened, reminding her of an oncoming storm at sea.
“No it doesn’t mean you’re out of a job, or that I won’t do whatever I can to acquire your building. I don’t trade in kisses, and I don’t deal in sexual favors, Ms. Kramer. Sex makes relationships complicated.” He placed both hands on the counter in clear view. “Your beautiful smile and kindness made me forget for a minute why I don’t mix business with pleasure.” He reached toward the phone on the counter to press the intercom. “Joe? Ms. Kramer is ready to leave. Please escort her out.”
A second later the front door opened.
“Linda and Haley will be in touch, Court…Ms. Kramer.”
“So I will have access to them, but not you. Is that right?” She read the answer in his eyes. “You offered me great advice today, and to be honest, the responsibilities that come with this job are significant. I’m certain we can replicate my ideas across the other shelters, but managing seven shelters at once will be a challenge. Without your input and influence, I’m not sure I can be successful.”
“In case you can’t tell, Ms. Kramer, I’m attracted to you, and I try to avoid working with people with whom I would like to have an intimate relationship. I will provide all the resources you need to be successful.”
“Yet I will not have any access to you.” Her heart screamed in protest.
“If you want to back out, say so, and I’ll find someone else. But understand your employment contract is for one year. You’ve already signed the papers. Today will be the only out I give you.”
Prior to today’s meeting she might have run, but the flow of ideas, the energy, the vision of what they could build together excited her. She wouldn’t back out now. “No, Mr. Carver, I want this job. I know I can make a difference. I’m excited to imagine how many more women we can help, but I need to know I have your support.”
He straightened his shoulders and settled into more formal posture. “I’ll make sure you have the funds you need to implement your plan.” Without
another word, he turned and disappeared up the stairs at the same time Joe appeared on the landing.
But that’s not what I meant. I need you, not your money.
“Ms. Kramer? If you will follow me, please.”
“Joe.” She glanced up the stairwell, hoping she might catch another glimpse of Weston. The need to explain became urgent. “Do you know if Mr. Carver ever gives people a second chance?”
The skin around Joe’s eyes creased in contemplation. “Rarely. Once he decides, there isn’t much that will change his mind.” The doorman gestured toward the stairwell, leaving her no choice but to pick up her backpack and leave.
Oddly enough, she had wanted to kiss him. Feel his afternoon stubble scrape across her skin, experience his hands sliding up her back. She wanted to weaken the strong, impenetrable man with a kiss.
Her entire body wanted him. Only her mind had rejected the idea.
Crap. What have I done?
Chapter 11
Weston passed the reception desk at Tickman and Tickman Real Estate, acknowledged the young blonde distracted by an incoming call, then continued down the carpeted hall to the last office overlooking the street. He opened the frosted glass door his lawyers told him led to where he’d find his former high school classmate.
“Carver, get the hell out of my office.” Alex Tickman slammed his phone into its cradle.
Weston sauntered toward the executive desk and took a seat on one of two burgundy leather chairs. “I expected a better city view, Tickman, you being in real estate and all. You should come visit my office sometime.”
“I said get out.”
While now-pudgy Alex pointed at the door, getting redder in the face with each passing moment, Weston considered various ways to outmaneuver the guy if he started throwing punches.
Weston leaned back and settled his elbows on the chair arms to steeple his fingers. “I’m here to discuss buying that Lower East Side tenement building.”
“I’m not selling you squat. You’re wasting your time.”