“Hold on, angel.” Perla tugged Bella’s wrist before she could leave. “Have a seat.”
Bella took a quick look around. Everything was, for the moment, under control, so she sat down. “What’s up?”
“I have a thought about Gus.” Perla flicked one manicured fingernail with another. “I may be talking myself out of my mad money, but our Gus needs to feel appreciated for his creative endeavors. He needs people to enjoy them, but the problem is, no one sees these concoctions of his as creative. Maybe—” She wagged her finger at Bella. “Maybe you should suggest he paint or do interior design. Or fashion.” She clapped her hands. “That’s it! He sews the aprons for the restaurant, right? He should create a line of clothing. There’s always a demand for it.” Perla smoothed a hand over her figure.
“Yes, Gus can bake regular food by day and let his imagination run wild on yards of fabric in the evening.” Perla stood and patted Bella’s shoulders. “Don’t you worry, angel, I’ll set that man straight.” She snorted. “Well, maybe not straight, but I’ll tell him my idea. I doubt Giac or Harry would be happy if I made Gus straight. Then we’d have a whole other problem on our hands.” She flipped her hands and scurried away. “Wish me luck!”
Bella shared a commiserating shrug with Harry. Perla meant well. Just like Gus with his creations.
She returned to the counter, wiped down one departing patron’s spot, then was about to refill Mr. Griff’s cup of tea when he put some money on the counter.
Bella covered his hand with hers. “Oh, no, Mr. Griff. This one is on the house. A welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift.”
He smiled from ear to ear. “Thank you, lass. I always knew you were—that is, er, you look like a generous soul.” He put his other hand atop hers. “You must come to my shop someday and I’ll find you the prettiest pair of shoes you ever saw—on the house, of course.” He winked then hurried out the door so quickly it was as if he had wings on his feet, leaving behind three coins as a tip. Three gold coins. Hmmm, maybe he really was a leprechaun.
Bella shook her head. Leprechauns, fairy tales, unicorns… She needed to get a grip on reality.
Or on a really hunky guy.
Been there, done that. And, oh, had it been nice.
But then he’d pulled away and apologized. Probably for the best, but still…
She plunked her chin in her hand and toyed with the coins. If only…
***
“Kelly, get me a sub’s contract, will you?” Reese asked his assistant as he passed her desk on his way to his office.
“Okay, but—” Kelly didn’t get the rest of her sentence out before it became obsolete. “Luke Jamison is here to see you.”
Through his office door, Reese could see that. And he was not happy about it.
Especially with the guy making himself comfortable behind his desk, rifling through his papers.
“Something you needed, Luke?” Reese refrained from throwing his fist into Luke’s face. Barely. “Or are you trying to see where the benefit was that you missed?”
Once upon a time they’d been friends. Teammates. Business associates.
Once upon a time was over.
“Hey, buddy.” Luke extricated himself from the chair—Reese’s chair—with the grin that had always saved his ass in the past. He’d been a media bad boy in their football years, but had always managed to come out smelling like a rose with that smile. Pure charm and charisma. But Reese was immune. “Look, Reese, I’m really sorry, but Tanya—”
“Cut the crap, Luke.” Reese stormed past him, hands fisted. One more word and he’d put them through Luke’s pretty-boy face. “Last time it was your mother, this time your ex-wife. Now I’ve got a pissed off client and an MIA caterer. Not to mention the meeting with me you skipped yesterday.” He walked behind his desk. “It’s over. Promotional Sports is finished with you.”
He tore a file from the top drawer and slammed it open on the desktop. “This paragraph says no fee is to be paid, and any advance is to be returned, in the event the contractee—you—fails to appear at the contracted event.” He slammed it shut, then leaned onto his palms, his face inches from Luc’s. “You owe me ten grand.”
“Look, Reese,” Luke said in a voice Reese knew all too well. The come-on-honey-I-won’t-bite voice that had gotten him more gullible women than Reese had thought were on the planet. “The money’s gone and without your gigs, well, there’s not much left to pay you back with.” He sat in the chair facing Reese and grinned. “Come on, man, give me another chance. I’ll be there. Promise.”
Reese closed his eyes and hung his head. The unmitigated gall. He glared at his old teammate. “You don’t get it, Luke. This isn’t a game. It’s my business, my reputation. While you have no regard for your own, I have a lot for mine. I gave you your second chance. Sunday night. And you blew it.”
“Yeah, but you were there. I knew they’d be more thrilled having the winning quarterback than the tight end there. You could handle it.”
“The point being—you were contracted. They wanted the guy who caught that Hail Mary pass. Not the one who threw it.” Reese shoved his hands into his pockets because they wanted to make contact with Luke’s jaw way too much. “We’re through, Luke. You’ve got a month to get me the ten grand or I call my lawyer for breach of contract.”
Reese was serious. Even as Luke pursed his lips, Reese hoped the man realized he knew him too well to think about trying to schmooze his way out of this.
“How about I work it off?” Luke lost the grin and, with it, the cocky attitude. “I can’t afford another court battle. Tanya’s last one used up all my cash as fast as I could earn it.”
Reese had heard too many of Luke’s “deals” to want to touch this one with a ten thousand foot pole.
“Seriously, Reese. You must have some event coming up where you could use me? I’ll do it for the ten grand I owe you and we’ll call it even.” Luke shifted in his seat. “I promise I’ll be there. Tell me where and when. I’ll even call you the day before to let you know I haven’t forgotten. Please.”
Shit. That last word got to him. Luke’s motto had always been, “Never beg for what you can win with charm.” He’d never needed to beg. Until now. Shit.
Reese shouldn’t give in to him. He knew that. Luke had always been unreliable. Well, except in a game. There he’d proven himself, time and again. But he was going through a rough patch. His ex-wife—one of the gold-digging groupies who’d followed their team and had managed to catch the uncatchable Luke in the oldest way possible—was demanding almost everything he owned in return for joint custody of their son, Jared.
That “please” had been all about his son, and Reese couldn’t punish the boy for his father’s misdeeds. Nor risk Tanya getting full custody. Luke might not be a prince, but, in Reese’s opinion, he was an infinitely better choice to raise the boy than Tanya. Which said a whole little about Tanya.
“Not one word, Luke, to any of the staff I hire. Not a look, a breath, or even a thought in their direction, got it? One fiasco is enough. If you pull off the next event without any drama, we’re square. If not...” Reese pulled out the direst threat he could come up with. “I’ll testify for your ex-wife.”
There was some measure of satisfaction in the color draining from Luke’s face. It was no idle threat; he knew more about his old teammate’s past exploits than anyone else. Including Tanya.
Luke stood and thrust out his hand. “I’ll be there. On Jared’s future, I’ll be there.”
Reese nodded, then filled him in about the auction. “And remember, stay away from the new caterer. She’s off limits.”
Words he, himself, needed to live by.
“Uh, Reese?” Kelly poked her head into his office after Luke left. “Your caterer is here to see you.”
That was quick. Reese couldn’t deny the surge of pleasure her words and that thought brought. Talk about a hypocrite… “Send her in.”
When he saw the woman who walked through th
e door, he realized he’d gotten what he deserved for considering not following his own non-fraternization rule.
Staci Whatshername, Dolly-Parton-wannabe. Reese grimaced. He shouldn’t call her that. The real Dolly was a very nice lady; she didn’t deserve the comparison. And he didn’t deserve this. Fans had tried all sorts of ways to get close to him before, but posing as a caterer was a first.
This woman, and he used that term loosely, thrust out her hand (and her chest), her artificial talons coming at him like daggers.
Reese chose to ignore both.
“Hello, Reese,” she purred as she stood before him, a hair’s breadth too close.
A football field would be too close.
“Bella and I were discussing some ideas for your party and I thought I should come talk to you about what, specifically—” the word rolled off her tongue as her tongue rolled around her lips—”you want.”
He chose to ignore that, too.
The silence grew strained. Sort of like the neckline of that dress, a look that was more tacky than sexy on her.
Finally, her gaze shifted from his to dart around the room. “So… what, um, did you have in mind?”
Not what she did.
Luckily, he was saved from answering by Luke walking back into his office. “And, hey, Reese—” Luke stopped as he caught sight of Staci who gave him a little finger wave. “Well, hellooo.”
Mr. Suave had entered the building.
“And who do we have here?”
Reese wanted to deck Luke all over again as the guy sauntered in. Barely restraining himself, he made the introduction, all the while glaring at Luke to back the fuck off. “Luke Jamison, meet Staci Fontaine.”
“Hi there,” Staci purred as she cocked her hip toward Luke.
Oh, hell. These two were two of a kind.
Luke kissed the back of her hand. “Hello, Staci Fontaine. What brings you here?” He purred every bit as revoltingly as she did, and Staci, like so many before her, fell for it.
“I’m working with Bella on the hospital thing. I came to talk to Reese about it.”
“What a wonderful coincidence.” Luke tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her over to Reese’s sofa. “I’m also working on the hospital... thing. We can work on it together.”
Not if Reese could help it. Ten grand wasn’t cheap even if Staci was. “Uh, Luke?”
Luke looked like was about to argue, but when Reese’s cell rang, Luke just smiled instead and steered Staci from the office. “Don’t let us disturb you.”
If Connie DeLeo weren’t the caller, he would explain to Luke just how much—ten thousand dollars’ worth—the two of them did disturb him. Instead, he scowled at Luke as they left. The guy just did not learn.
Reese blew out a breath before answering. “Hey, Connie. What’s up?”
“Hi, Reese. I’m calling to find out if you’re bringing a date to the dinner Saturday night. I’m doing my guest list and realized I didn’t know if there was someone special in your life.”
Subtle Connie was not. He’d met her when he’d been drafted by the team, and she’d tried to get him to settle down ever since. But he’d been too busy proving himself to get serious about anyone.
If only he’d shared that info with Devin.
“You are coming, aren’t you? It’s a big event.”
Which was a big problem. Connie’s annual dinner for everyone involved with the stadium meant that Coach would be there. They hadn’t spoken since Reese had gone on the disabled list, and a public place wasn’t the best idea for a first conversation.
“I don’t know yet, Con.”
“Oh, please, Reese. It’ll be good for you. And Coach, too. Just the thing you need to break the ice. Start over. A new beginning. Please say you’ll come.”
Actually, bringing a date could be a good thing. A buffer.
Right. Buffer. He knew who he wanted to bring, but it wasn’t so she’d be a buffer.
“I won’t take no for an answer, Reese.”
He knew that, too. Well, he could always tell Bella it was a site visit so she could see what he had in mind for the auction.
That was lame. Even for Luke.
Reese sighed. “I’ll be there. Not sure about a date yet, though. I’ll have to check her schedule.” And his own sanity. But if he and Bella were going to work together he had to get over this attraction.
Connie was right; the party could be the perfect beginning for a lot of things.
Chapter Eight
Sophia tugged Bella’s hand on the sidewalk two blocks from the park. “Come on, Bella! Let’s race! I want to see the hot air balloons.”
“All right, but be careful.” Bella rumpled Sophia’s hair.
“I will! Ready, set, go!” Sophia took off down the sidewalk toward the park where the annual regatta was set up.
Slowing her stride to just under Sophia’s furious one, Bella pretended to struggle. Couldn’t let Sophia win too easily or she’d catch on.
Suddenly though, Bella no longer had to act as she landed hard on the concrete. “Ouch!”
Sophia spun around and hurried back. “Bella! Are you okay?”
Bella examined her ankle. Then her hip. Both seemed intact, but sore. The same could not be said of her running shoe. The seam was ripped, the rubber sole hanging by threads.
She got to her feet, wincing at the twinge in her hip. “I’m having the darnedest luck with shoes these days.”
“We could buy you a new pair in that store over there.” Sophia pointed across the street.
Heavenly Shoes. Talk about luck…
The store’s door chimes sounded a lot like the bells of St. Gabriel’s Church as Bella followed Sophia inside, and Mr. Griff’s smile was almost angelic as he hurried from the back room.
“Bella, it’s so good to see you. And you must be Sophia.” Mr. Griff dropped to one knee and took Sophia’s hand in his. “I’m so glad to meet you.”
Sophia giggled while she shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, too, um…”
“Jonathan Griff, lass.” He stood up. “Welcome to Heavenly Shoes’ opening day. I can’t think of a better opening than to have two such beautiful ladies stop by.” He winked at Sophia which sent her into another round of giggles. “Now, what brings you here?”
“Bella needs a new pair of running shoes.” Sophia held up the damaged one. “See?”
“Tsk tsk. I’ll say she does.” Mr. Griff took it from her. “It’s seen better days, I’m sure. But not to worry, ladies. Running shoes are my specialty.” He led them to a bank of chairs. “Have a seat and I’ll be right back with a selection for you to choose from.”
Bella sat, but Sophia rushed over to the shoe displays in the glass case beneath the counter.
“Look Bella! Here’s a pair like Dorothy wore in The Wizard of Oz.” Shiny ruby pumps glittered in the twinkling lights lining the case. “And this pair looks just like the ones Mary Poppins had on the carousel ride.” Sophia walked along the case. “These look like the Sugar Plum Fairy’s ballet shoes. And these look like a genie’s slippers. And—oh, Bella! Come see! These look like Cinderella’s!”
The transparent shoes did look as if they were made of glass with the way the lights sparkled in them. The velvet purple cushion they were displayed on didn’t hurt the image, either. It was a great marketing tool. Little girls would be dragging their mothers in by the mini-van-full once word got out. And with Sophia doing the talking, that wouldn’t take very long.
Mr. Griff returned then with a tower of boxes teetering over his head. “You should find something suitable in these, but if not, I’ll bring out more.”
“I’m sure I’ll find something. Thank you, Mr. Griff.” Bella sat down and his gold coins clinked in her pocket. She took them out. I believe you forgot something earlier.”
Mr. Griff shook his head and wouldn’t take them. “You keep them. They’re a gift.”
“But that meal was the gift, and these are worth more than
the food.”
“I’ll not hear of it, lass. They were a gift to you for being so generous. Now try those shoes on while I see to our Miss Sophia.” He walked over to the case Sophia had her nose pressed against. “Do you see something you like?”
“Oh, yes!” Sophia squealed. “Cinderella’s glass slippers. They’re beautiful!”
“Would you like to try them on?”
“Oh, yes, please!” Sophia squealed, hopping out of her running shoes quicker than Bella’s mishap had gotten her out of hers.
Mr. Griff winked at Bella. “Lucite, but it gets their attention every time. I do so love to fire up people’s imaginations.”
“I bet you get a big run on them during wedding season.”
He shook his head. “I probably would, but I only have the one pair and they’re not for sale, though I do lend them out on occasion.”
“Can I borrow them for my wedding day, Mr. Griff?” Sophia asked as she paraded around the store with a very-practiced royal wave. “They make me feel like a princess.”
Bella laughed along with Mr. Griff. Sophia would have enough time to learn that fairy tales didn’t exist, but childhood was the time for dreams and wishes and believing in magic.
She flicked Sophia’s ponytail as she paid for the running shoes. “Sure you can, Soph. Every girl deserves to feel like a princess at least once in her life.”
***
“Bella’s not here,” said Giac when Reese called Casteleoni’s. “She’s probably with Sophia at the park.”
A crash in the background was followed by another round of angry Italian so Reese didn’t have a chance to ask who Sophia was or where in the park they’d be. But since he was within walking distance, he figured he’d find out for himself, using the exercise to burn off his anger at Luke.
Yeah, that was lame, too.
Still, Reese headed down the tree-lined path to the river, where, apparently, half the town had congregated, dodging rollerblading teens, stroller-pushing mothers, and dog-walking grannies. He was going to need some major luck to find Bella in this crowd.
If The Shoe Fits Page 6
