Wes looked up from the paperwork in front of him as Spellman approached the table. The two men shook hands then Spellman took a seat in the booth across from Wes. Spellman, or “The Ron” as his groupies called him, snapped his fingers at the waitress and pointed at the empty coffee cup sitting on the table.
“I’m doing fine, Ronald,” Wes replied, ignoring the young St. Claire title. He was thirty-five years old and his father’s shadow still followed him certain places. “How about yourself?”
“Couldn’t be better.” The man wore expensive jeans designed to look distressed and a black T-shirt complete with a picture of the band Linkin Park. In his mid forties, he’d already directed countless films and was one of the top five most known names in the business. The man was brilliant and he was already being compared to the greatest movie directors. But to Wes, there was also something about him that was distasteful. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he didn’t trust “The Ron,” but he did deem it necessary to be extremely cautious.
Of course, Wes approached all his business deals that way. There were good men in the world, lots of them. But money did strange things to people, made some of them crazy. The press liked to call crazy people “eccentric” when that person was wealthy or famous. And in Ron Spellman’s case, rumors suggested that his eccentricity could sometimes be better characterized as batshit crazy.
“Talked to your dad on the phone the other day; he sounds good. Real good, as a matter of fact.”
“He is doing well, yes. Montana seems to agree with him.” Wes wasn’t sure what his father and Spellman had said to one another, but his father’s new attitude toward life was apparent to others as well as the family it seemed.
“I’m glad. He’s a good man. I’m sure Montana will agree with me as well.” He motioned with his chin toward the paperwork in front of Wes. “I see your father showed you our plans.”
“Your plans.” Daniel wasn’t involved in the deal at this point other than suggesting Marietta for Spellman’s western. “He asked me to take a look at it.”
The waitress came over and they placed their orders. Not all that hungry, Wes ordered scrambled eggs and coffee. Spellman went for a full plate of eggs Benedict. “I wonder if the cook can properly poach an egg,” he said as the waitress took their menus and left the table.
He leaned his elbows on the table and looked at Wes. “So, what’s your two cents then, St. Claire? What do you think?”
“Well, I can see the black and white of it here on paper, but I wanted to meet today to hear you tell me just exactly what you have planned for Marietta.”
Spellman leaned back in the booth, his arms spread wide. “Oh, yes! My grand plan. I love it.”
He proceeded to share his idea with Wes, which included the purchase of several buildings including the one that held Noelle’s studio. Spellman believed the street would be an ideal location for his new movie, an old western, where he could change the facade of the buildings, and make it look like the Wild West. Once the film was done, he would have put Marietta on the map.
“But you aren’t planning on making any more changes than some cosmetic alterations to the front of each building?”
“No.” He shrugged. “I don’t see why I would need to. Why would that matter to you anyway?”
“It doesn’t. But it matters to the people of Marietta. If you’re just making some minor changes to the exterior appearance, why would you buy the buildings? Why not just pay the owners for their use?”
Shaking his head, Ron said, “I’ve been down that road before. I’ve rented buildings from owners, and then they proceed to get in the way of my vision. I need control of the spaces. Besides, after the movie, those owners and shopkeepers made money from tourists who came to see where my movie was filmed. Why shouldn’t I buy a building that’s available and profit from the publicity my movie will create? Besides, I see it as a way to keep a part of each movie I make. Some actors save a favorite jacket from a film they’ve worked on, some actresses a dress. Me? I keep my setting. I thought you were a New Yorker, St. Claire. Why is some small town in Montana important to you?”
Not the town, but a certain resident whom he was falling in love with.
“It’s important to my father.” An answer that was not an untruth by any means.
Spellman nodded. “I can understand that. I’m sorry about your mother.”
Eager to have the topic off his family, let alone his mother, Wes moved forward. “I’ve been looking things over. The movie could be good for the town. Any attention could bring in tourism, but many questions are still unanswered. How long will you be filming?”
“I’d like to wrap that one up in a few months’ time. We have quite a bit of it set to film on a sound stage, but I want the town to be as realistic as possible. That’s why I called your dad. I figured he could give me first-hand advice. Your father didn’t get where he is by making bad business decisions.”
“That’s true.”
“I could say the same for you as well. So, what’s your take on it, Wes? What do you think?”
Wes had no intention of spewing his thoughts right there across the table. As with any business deal, he liked to step back, think about things before he gave an answer. “I’ll be back in Montana this afternoon. I’ll talk with my dad and then we’ll be in touch.”
Spellman leaned forward again in his seat. “It’s not like I need your approval here, Wes. But I respect your opinion and your father’s as businessmen.”
“I understand.”
He leaned back again, the momentary air of tension gone, but not forgotten by Wes. The man grinned. “Hey, look. I want what’s best for everybody here. I see it as a win-win situation.”
Wes nodded but didn’t answer. The deal did look good on paper. But as he shook the man’s hand outside the restaurant and they parted ways, Wes couldn’t ignore the warning lights flashing in his head.
Spellman had said he was only changing the facade of the buildings to match the old west theme of the film. That shouldn’t cause a problem for Noelle. Other than Noelle not having access to her studio during filming times, he didn’t foresee any problems for her. But one thing Wes had heard about Spellman was he didn’t let much get in the way of his vision. If he could contain Spellman, it could be really good for the town, but Spellman left him with a bad aftertaste in his mouth.
Wes checked in at his office, returning emails and coordinating things with his assistant for an hour or so. He looked at his watch. Almost ten o’clock. Time to get back to Noelle. He’d told her and the others to sleep in, that he would get his work done and meet them back at the penthouse at 10:30. Eager to see her again, thoughts of Ronald Spellman and anything work-related drifted from his mind. He left his office and ducked into the limo waiting for him at the curb.
Wes looked out the window, the city floating by in a blur of doorways and brick buildings. He rubbed his fingers over his mouth, the memory of Noelle’s lips against his own the main thing on his mind. He’d thought one taste of her would help extinguish the heat between them. But it backfired on him and managed to fan the flame instead. He wanted more. And a part of him began to think that was possible.
Noelle dropped her bag inside the door of her studio and tossed her keys on the front counter. In spite of Holly’s protests, Noelle had insisted on Wes dropping her there instead of going home first. Holly reminded her that all her classes were over for the afternoon, meaning she could take the time to relax and unpack and be ready to hit the ground running the next day, but she was too wired to sit around.
The events of the past thirty hours or so had her head in a spin. Not only from being whisked away on a private jet to spend the evening on the town with a gorgeous man and hang out in his New York penthouse, but more so from the kiss they’d shared that was seared into her memory, causing heat to flow through her even now.
She shook her head. “Get it together, girlfriend. You’ve got things to do.”
“Get what
together?”
Noelle jumped about three feet in the air at the sound of Franchesca’s voice behind her. She must’ve snuck in the door while Noelle daydreamed about hot kisses from a hot bachelor.
Her hand on her chest if only to try and slow down her heart rate, Noelle turned to her friend. “What in the world are you doing sneaking up on me like that?”
Franchesca looked at the door then back toward Noelle. “Sneak up on you? I walked in the door and heard you talking to yourself. Your mind was eight thousand miles away.” She moved past Noelle and toward the office. Noelle followed. The room was still warm, afternoon classes having ended not long before. She must’ve just missed her other teachers leaving for the night. There were no evening classes so the two women had the place to themselves.
Franchesca dropped her purse on a chair in Noelle’s office then moved to the kitchen and prepped the teapot to heat up. “Of course, my mind would be racing as well had I just spent two days and a night with a gorgeous billionaire.”
“You don’t know how much money the St. Claires have.”
Franchesca rolled her eyes at Noelle as she took two mugs from the cupboard and added tea bags to them. “Oh, please. They probably have money that has its own money that has its own money.”
“They aren’t snobby, Franchesca.” Her defense of the St. Claires surprised even her, but she knew them well enough now to know their money didn’t define them. They were a nice family. Well, the ones she’d met so far were anyway.
“Don’t get all bunched up about things. All I want are the gory details of your getaway.”
Noelle laughed as she sat in one of the chairs in the kitchen. “Nothing gory. We went to the theater then hung out in his penthouse.”
Franchesca lifted her eyebrows. “Penthouse, eh?”
“And we flew there in their private jet.”
“Ha! And you’re giving me grief for saying they have money.” The teapot whistled. She poured hot water into the two mugs, handed one to Noelle, then sat in the other chair with her mug cradled in her hands. “That’s like saying you can’t talk about a zebra having stripes.”
“Whatever.” Noelle waved a hand at her friend and took a small sip of tea. “It was fun. A great night. And thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you. In fact, I feel bad for leaving you behind with all the work we still have to do for the show.”
“Think nothing of it. If some gorgeous guy wanted to whisk me away for a night, you’d do the same for me.”
“That’s true.”
“Oh! The reason I came over, besides getting the dish on your hot date, was to tell you I found out about the new owner of our building.”
“You did?” Noelle leaned forward in her chair.
“Yes. Word is that Ronald Spellman, the big-time movie director, is buying a few buildings here so he can make his next movie in Marietta. Can you believe that? I’m so excited!” Franchesca’s eyes twinkled and she gave a huge grin before taking a sip of tea.
“You’re excited?”
“Sure! Why not? I’m in theater, remember?”
“Yes, I remember. But aren’t you worried about him shoving us out? We could lose our studios.”
“I don’t think so. He wants to keep them as an investment once the movie makes Marietta a known place and the town grows. He’s seeing it as a profitable business move.”
Noelle sat back in her chair and absorbed what Franchesca had told her. She’d left everything in San Francisco to start again in Marietta. It made her uneasy to think any kind of change would cause her to lose the new life she was building. She wasn’t sure she had it in her to start over once more. If she lost her studio, what then?
“Hey. Don’t worry about it. I think it will all be fine.” Franchesca patted Noelle’s leg. “Besides, we have a performance to put on in a mere few days. There is much to be done.”
Noelle shook her head to free her thoughts of future problems. Franchesca was right. Things would be fine. “Yes! Please catch me up on things. What did I miss while I was gone?”
As the two women pored over the details, Noelle’s mind eased. Her studio would be fine. Things with Wes were heating up. Life was good. With two more Bake-Offs to help him with, she’d get to see him for sure and her studio was thriving. Her future in Marietta was even brighter than she’d dreamed.
Chapter Fourteen
Noelle moved around the apartment as nervous as if this were her first date with Wes. And the evening wasn’t even a date. She’d thought it a good idea for him to practice for the second Bake-Off at her apartment, the kitchen being smaller—much smaller—than the one at his family’s house. Although Wes had done well in the first Bake-Off, Noelle could tell that the size of the kitchen being so different threw Wes off his game a bit. He’d agreed that a change of scenery was a good idea.
Now Noelle wasn’t so sure. What seemed a good idea at the time she mentioned it now gave her pause as she triple checked things once more. She and Holly had scoured the apartment until every nook and cranny was spotless. The floors gleamed.
“Those are clean enough to eat off of,” Holly said as she breezed by Noelle who stood in the doorway of the kitchen staring at the floor, hands on her hips.
“I don’t know about that.”
Holly poured herself a cup of coffee from the carafe on the counter. “Why are you so nervous? It’s not like you haven’t spent time with Wes before. For heaven’s sake, we just did a trip to New York with him. One where you still haven’t given me details about what happened between you two.”
It wasn’t as if Noelle had been avoiding the topic with her sister. They told each other almost everything. But with the performance happening the following evening, she’d spent every night working late with Franchesca on last-minute details, falling into bed and then waking up in the morning to do it all over again. Holly had been busy with a new client so their paths hadn’t crossed much since the New York trip.
Okay, she could have maybe spared a moment or two to fill her sister in on details, but she was still working through how she felt about all of it. She hadn’t even seen Wes since he dropped her off at her studio two days before. Well, he’d stopped in to pick up Annalise after class, which was when they scheduled their baking lesson for that morning, but with a whirlwind of activity around her, it wasn’t what she would call quality time.
However, one look at the man and her knees had gone weak. The craziness of a mass of little girls in tutus around them faded away when he’d smiled at her. Memories of that kiss floated in her mind about every five minutes, making it tough for her to focus on her work, or anything else for that matter.
“You’re blushing. And you have a far-off look in your eye.” Holly eyed her over her coffee mug. She now sat at the table, the morning paper pulled up on her iPad. A paper she wasn’t reading. Instead she was staring at Noelle and teasing her about blushing.
Noelle placed her hands on her cheeks. “I am not.” Her protest was futile. Of course she was blushing. Her body flushed with heat every time she thought of that kiss. She went and poured herself a cup of coffee and sat across from her sister. Facing the inevitable was always easier with coffee.
“Say what you want, but your cheeks are crimson, sister. And don’t tell me nothing happened between you two. The air all but crackled when Jeff and I came back into the penthouse the other night. And I’m your sister. Your hair doesn’t get messed up like it was, not without help. Help from some large, manly hands attached to a mighty fine billionaire businessman. With phenomenal taste, I might add. That penthouse of his is something else.” She raised her mug in a toast before taking a sip.
So that was why Holly hadn’t hounded her with questions. She already knew.
“I might have been able to figure out what was going on between you two, sheesh. Anyone with two eyes could see the attraction anytime you’re in the man’s vicinity, but that doesn’t get you off the hook. Talk.”
Of course. Although knowing they ki
ssed was one thing. Wanting the dish from Noelle was another. However, after Holly’s first date with Jeff, Noelle had done the same thing.
Noelle cradled her coffee mug in her hands. “I don’t think I need to give details on how amazing things were in New York, but I still don’t know how I feel yet, Holl.”
“What’s stumping you?”
“Geography, for one. I live here. He lives in New York.”
“The man has his own jet. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind commuting.”
A valid point, for sure. But not one that had Noelle convinced. “It’s not the commute alone I’m worried about. I can tell he doesn’t even like Marietta. He would want to live full time in New York.” She shrugged and took a sip of coffee. “My life is here now.”
“Don’t shrug this off. You have serious feelings for this man. Own that.”
Noelle smiled but admitted nothing. At least not out loud. Her sister was right. She’d fallen and fallen hard for Wes St. Claire. But no matter how much she rattled it around in her head, she couldn’t come up with how to make it work.
“Maybe friendship with him is the best plan.”
Their doorbell chimed and Holly stood to open the door. On the other side was Wes, dressed again in jeans and a dark Henley, an apron draped over him that said, “Real Men Bake Cookies.”
Holly laughed as she grabbed her coat and work bag from the chair by the door. She hugged Noelle and whispered, “Good luck with that friendship plan,” patted Wes’s shoulder as she passed him, and headed out the door.
Noelle took one look at the man and had to admit, without a doubt, she was in big trouble.
Wes stood in the doorway, confused by the look on Noelle’s face.
“What? What is it? The apron too much?”
She closed her mouth, her chin having been almost on the floor. A hand placed over her mouth did nothing to stifle her laughter. “No. I think it’s just perfect.”
He looked down. “They didn’t have one that said anything about making pies, but since I’ve already baked cookies, I figured it was all good.”
A Recipe for Romance Page 11
