“Then it's a deal.” He reached out a hand. “I'll have Penny, my assistant, arrange everything. We can talk contracts and numbers after you see it. If you decide it’s something you want to do, that is.”
“Deal.” Anticipation spread through her as he held her hand a moment longer before letting go. She walked with him to the door then followed him out when he opened it for her.
He gestured to her tree. “Nice.”
“Hey, don’t knock my lemon tree. It’s perfect. Except for the fact it’s a spider haven lately.” An all-too-familiar shudder inched up her spine. “I hate spiders.”
“Not knocking your tree. Or your fear of arachnids.”
“I blame my mom. My dad said she was the same way.”
“So, it runs in the family?” He rubbed his jaw like he tried to keep his grin from spreading. “Your brothers, too?”
She shook her head. “Only child.”
“Ah. So, you’re a spoiled brat.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she had a sudden desire to slug him sideways a foot or two. “Am not.”
He laughed. “That is exactly the sort of thing a spoiled brat would say.”
She lifted her chin.
“Okay, okay.” He put up both hands. “Not a brat, or spoiled, but afraid of spiders.”
The smile she’d bitten back spilled free. “Right.”
“Got it.”
“And I love my lemon tree. And Cisco, the gentleman who gave it to me. Seriously, it was the sweetest gift. Spider home or not.” She clamped her mouth shut. Stop. Rambling.
“Definitely. And very cool of Cisco.”
“Right?” The way his eyes narrowed the slightest bit had her clarifying, which she refused to analyze. “He’s the florist next door. Gave it to me as a welcoming.” The light in his eyes danced, and she cleared her throat. “Anyway.”
His mouth hinted at that same mischievous smile he’d worn when he first arrived. “I'm glad I almost ran you over last night.”
One of her brows rose. “I thought you said you felt bad about that?”
“I lied.”
His laughter filled the air, its deep sound rich and untainted, like the warm caramel-colored accent wall behind the reception desk.
She rolled her eyes but matched his grin. “Thank you for returning my bracelet. And for the opportunity.”
He dipped his head and stepped toward his truck. “I look forward to working with Blakeley Architecture & Design.”
Her smile faltered when he didn’t open the door right away, her nerves clinging to the sudden worry she read all over his face.
“This project.” He dropped her gaze, his attention going to something at his feet for a moment before looking back up. “I’d like it kept under the radar. Lately, the media has their claws into everything I do, and this…I’d liked to keep this private. At least for now. I'm sure I can count on your company's discretion but want to make sure that’s clear up front.”
Whatever she’d expected him to say, it hadn't been that, and she stumbled over her answer. “O-of course.”
“Great.”
He gave her that killer grin that tripped up her heart and then pulled open his door and climbed inside, its firm click the only sound before his truck roared to life.
She felt for the door behind her and leaned against it. Last night when she'd been determined to tell Mr. Cutter more about her company, the prize had been a chance to cement Blakely A&D as a real player in commercial architecture. Now, not twenty-four hours later, she held the next best prize—only nobody was going to see it. There would be no headline news.
But, he thinks my designs are timeless. My ideas intrigue him. He says I have a gift.
Some of the original thrill soaked back in as her mind wandered the possible avenues this project could lead her. She straightened her back, bringing her hands together with a new focus.
So, maybe it isn’t the big leap I expected, but it isn’t a leap backwards. Sideways maybe? Regardless, I’ve totally got this.
Chapter Four
Madison tucked a brochure from the sustainable energy booth into her purse, alongside half a dozen other pamphlets and business cards, as they entered the main hall of the AAO convention. She touched the papers Jase’s assistant had faxed over earlier that week with their flight information, making sure they were still in place, and an all too familiar lurch stirred in her stomach. In less than three hours, she and Eric would be on a flight from San Diego to Sun Valley, Idaho. And in less than twenty-four, the real estate mogul would join them.
Eric side-eyed her. “How you holding up?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re freaking out about the plane ride, aren’t you?”
“No.”
One of his brows shot up so high, it disappeared behind the hair falling across his forehead.
“Okay, maybe a little.” A lot.
“Don’t. That’s why you’re dragging me along.”
“Not true.”
When his brow inched skyward again, she scrambled for a topic change. “So, what do you think? This place is pretty great, right?”
He mumbled something under his breath. “You know conventions aren’t my thing,” he reluctantly translated after she placed her hands on her hips. “Don't get me wrong, I enjoy learning about new strategies to build business and the latest in materials, but all these panels and classes put me to sleep.”
“This is the American Architecture Organization—the AAO. It’s like, one hundred times better than all the others combined.”
“If you say so.”
She laughed but admitted that toward the end of the last lecture she'd found herself yawning, too. “I think it's the stuffy rooms. There are definitely more people attending this year.”
He was being a good sport, even if his efforts were accompanied by several yawns and head bobs.
“It was pretty great of you to come and use my dad’s ticket. I think out of everything, this conference has me missing him the most. He loved these, and I hate that he isn’t here with me. Not that I don’t appreciate you taking his place.” Genuine gratitude made her smile come easy. “And not only to the conference, but to Idaho as well.”
“Uh huh. Like I said before, you don’t like flying, and Sarah already had a commitment. You also hate staying alone in strange places. You’re totally using me.”
She scoffed and made a face at him. “I need someone to bounce ideas off of. That’s all.”
“Well, in between idea bouncing, I have two weeks’ worth of work to get done this weekend from the move so, while you’re out convincing Cutter he can’t live without your designs, I’m going to hide in my room and play catch up.”
“Deal.”
Leaning against a side wall, he fought a yawn. “Tell me again why we’re going a day earlier than Cutter?”
“Because I asked to.” She ignored another of his sideways glances that seemed to question her sanity. “I’d like a chance to see the area before we meet with him.”
“And?”
Avoiding his eyes, she tightened her purse strap over her shoulder. “And because I don’t need Jase to see me freak out at forty thousand feet.”
“Ha. Told you it was about the flight. But I get it.”
“Honestly, though, I just don’t want to mess this up.” It meant too much for their future.
“You won’t.”
The noise of the conference ebbed and flowed around them as they began to walk, the energy like a living thing, calling her nerves out one by one. “Listen, just…please don’t forget what I said about Jase’s request for privacy on this project, okay?”
Eric’s shoes squeaked against the polished tiles as he stopped and faced her. “I know what discretion means. I’m not ten.”
A niggle of shame crept over her as she nodded.
“And I’m happy to go. It's barely three days, right? Besides, I'm curious about our famous bachelor. I want to see this little ranch of his.” He ro
lled his eyes until only the whites showed.
Her laughter broke through the crowds. “What’s your deal? You’ve never even met him.”
“I don’t need to. He’s your typical millionaire. Same cut as my dad. Plus, who wears the title of Most Eligible Bachelor like a shiny badge?”
“Oh, please, he does not.”
“Tell me, when you found him at the gala, did he have half the women in the room hanging on his arm? Hmm?”
“No—”
He pointed straight at her. “Tell the truth.”
She gave him the stink eye but couldn’t completely deny it. “When I ran into him, he was lady free. And he was perfectly normal and nice in our office.” And entirely intimidating and more attractive than a person had a right to be…
His eyes narrowed.
“What?”
He grunted something unintelligible as she looked for the exit. “We should probably get going.”
“Don't have to tell me twice.”
Madison wove a path through the exhibits with the late morning sun spilling in through the glass front of the convention center. The brilliant light added to the energy buzzing around them, making up for the strong odors that sometimes accompany large conventions. The kind where body odor, perfume, and aftershave sparred, and nobody won.
“You’re right. Your dad loved these. I shouldn’t have given you a hard time about taking the extra ticket.”
Surprise turned her his way. “It’s fine. At least we got to come.” Her voice thickened, and she swallowed hard. “Even if only for a few hours.”
“Yeah.”
His expression held so much of the sadness she felt in her own. Sometimes it was easy to forget her father’s passing had left an empty spot within someone other than herself. Eric carried his grief well, but, times like now, it slipped through his walls, opening a window to his pain. But, selfish or not, Madison was glad he was here, even if she suspected part of the reason had to do with promises to her dad.
“I worry sometimes I’m letting him down,” she said, confessing her thoughts of the past couple of days aloud. The weight of Eric’s hands on her shoulders brought a measure of peace. A token of assurance that she wasn’t alone.
“Hey, look at me. You’re doing amazing. He’s proud of you.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Like I said the other day, it takes time. Trust me. You’ve got the Charter Club and Camille’s restaurant, and soon you’ll have so many commercial contracts, you’ll have to hire half a football team of designers and assistants just to keep up.”
She shoved the tips of her fingers in the front pockets of her jeans, wishing they were her college sweats. “You’re the best. But I’m not celebrating the Charter Club or the restaurant until we have signatures.”
“They’re both done deals. Royce said he’d fax the contract back by the end of next week.”
Unwilling to count deals before the ink hit paper, she half-nodded. He gave her a funny look, but she ignored it and turned her attention to the center’s expansive, intricate ceiling, where several banners were strung. An almost adolescent excitement nudged a smile to her face, like she was twelve again and seeing them for the first time. Among the colorful convention’s logos, hung the names of some of the country’s most celebrated architects.
How would it feel to be listed among the great? A forerunner in design?
“Earth to Madison? You ready?”
After one more moment of dreaming, she brought her attention back to reality. “Yeah, let’s go.” But as they cut through a class letting out, her thoughts were on her company’s future and not the man whose shoulder she bumped. An apology lay on her lips, but a pair of pale gray eyes stopped the words from falling.
“Blakeley.” Simon Weston’s aloof stance was the same as that night at the gala.
She consciously lifted her chin and met his cold stare. “Mr. Weston.”
Next to him, in a baby-doll dress and knee-high leather boots, stood his sister, the sleek blonde who’d caused such a stir with the big surprise at the gala. The announcement had been all over the news and in the papers. According to one article, Natasha and Jase had something going in college, a fact the journalist suggested got Weston Designs the restoration bid.
Stupid politics.
Simon made formal introductions, and Madison shook the woman’s hand graciously, mentally congratulating herself.
“Your name sounds familiar.” Natasha’s blonde brows creased as she inspected her head to toe. “Do we know each other?”
“She’s the San Diego architect I met at the gala.”
A silent look passed between the siblings, one layered with more than simple recognition, but the meaning of those layers was up for grabs.
“Well, it’s a pleasure,” Natasha said. “Were you also one of the bidders for the theatre restoration?”
Madison forced a smile and prayed it didn’t look as hollow as it felt. “I was.” Polite manners pressed her to ask them about their stay or about the convention, but the echoed words feminine persuasions decisively smothered those particular niceties, and instead, she asked if they planned to stay in California long.
Please say no.
“Our flight leaves later this afternoon, after our lunch with Jase,” Natasha said. “He insisted on getting together one last time before we head back to Seattle, to celebrate the new contract. He’s good like that.”
Madison almost let one of Eric’s snarky retorts slip out but caught herself at the last second. “Yes, he seems like a great person.” And it was true. Both times they’d spoken, he’d been the perfect gentleman. His easy laughter had been infectious.
And the way he’d searched my eyes right before making his offer?
She glanced at Natasha, wondering how many times the bachelor had looked at her that way.
Simon cleared his throat. “Speaking of our lunch, we don’t want to be late.” He made a show of checking his watch, the same fancy piece from before at the gala.
Next to him, his sister made no sign they were in a hurry. “Don’t be too disappointed in losing the bid, Jase is pretty selective about who he does business with. Having a history together is important to him. I’m sure you understand.”
Madison’s mouth fell open a fraction, but before she could force it closed, Eric edged himself between them.
“Definitely.” He wore an easy smile like he spoke to two old acquaintances, offering a handshake to the brother and sister. “Sorry, I'm Eric Strand. I oversee Blakeley A&D's finances.” He glanced between the two, unblinking. “Yeah, Madison here made quite an impression on Mr. Cutter at the gala.”
She choked, giving her blabber-mouthed accountant’s foot a hard nudge as Natasha’s penciled-in lips twisted into a smile as sympathetic as a four-inch needle. Warmth flooded her cheeks. “It’s not—”
“I’m sure it’s only the beginning to a long future with the entrepreneur,” Eric cut in.
Every angle of the blonde’s posture stiffened, from her back to the grip on her designer purse. “Well, I wish you the best. It’s not often Jase shows such pointed interest.”
Eric continued to grin as if they discussed nothing more than what a fine day it was, despite the crack of cynicism in the air between them. “It was nice to meet you both, but I'm afraid we also have somewhere to be. If you'll excuse us?”
Simon’s eyes narrowed to slits, but he nodded, and without another word, led his sister into the crowd.
Once out of the building, Madison doubled her pace and headed for the parking garage. Conference goers parted wide to let her pass, but when her annoying companion’s ruckus laughter reached her ears, she spun around. “Why did you do that?”
His shoulders shook. “What?”
“Eric.” She lowered her voice when people stared. “Mr. Cutter asked us not to say anything about Idaho.”
“Did I say anything about Idaho?”
She threw her hands up before turning and walking again, he
r anger at both him and the haughty, snooty Westons boiling inside. “What if they say something to Jase?”
He matched his stride with hers. “Like what? There’s nothing for them to say.”
“I want him to know we're a respectable company he can trust.”
For the first time since running into the siblings, Eric’s voice sounded repentant. “They cut you down. I was putting them in their place. People like that need a little reminder. Believe me. I’ve lived most of my life around that type of entitlement.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Why didn't you mention Simon’s sister was a viper?”
“I never met her before today.” She forced a deep breath as she dug her keys out of her bag when they reached her car. “We’ve worked thirteen or more hours a day the past few months moving and writing up bids, all so we can make important connections like these. So, offending Jase? Or his friends? Not the wisest route to get us there.”
“Listen, nothing Simon the Twit or Natasha the Horrible says will hurt you. I promise.”
Her lips twitched. “Just…behave in Idaho, okay?”
“I’m always a model of behavior.”
Madison mimicked one of Eric’s famous eye rolls. “You forget I’ve known you way too long to keep a straight face when you say that.”
He reeled back in mock offense then pointed over the top of the car. “Your dad thought I was pretty perfect.”
“I still don’t know why.” She ducked into the car, a spark of lightness pushing out the tight pressure behind her ribcage with their old, familiar banter. With luck, Simon and Natasha wouldn't say anything to Jase. It would be sad to mess up her chance before even starting.
What wouldn't be sad was to never see those two again.
Chapter Five
Jase waded through the melting pot of culture and style along the shorefront, a few minutes early for his lunch with Simon and Natasha before their flight back to Seattle. His eyelids scraped like grit against his eyes from lack of sleep, and pounding the sand next to the sharp cliffs below Torrey Pines reserve sounded better by the second. Exhausting himself from a hard run would keep him from restless nightmares. Or dwelling over his own flight in the morning.
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