by Marin Thomas
“You’re sure everything is okay?” She glared suspiciously at his phone.
He wished he could admit the truth. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch you tomorrow at the site.”
Before he left, he intended to wipe out the wariness in her eyes. He lowered his head and kissed her. Not a don’t-worry kiss, but a kiss full of promise. A kiss that told her he refused to let her push him out of her life.
As he pulled away from the curb, he checked the rearview mirror. Jennifer stood on the sidewalk with her arms wrapped around her middle, staring after him as if she’d just lost her best friend.
Chapter Eleven
“Where the hell were you? I’ve been ringing your phone all day.”
“Hi, Steve. How are you?” Aaron grinned as he entered the corporate offices of McKade Enterprises. “It’s Sunday. I went fishing. What are you doing here?”
“Well, isn’t that dandy. You’re out playing catch the fishies with the worm while I’m here trying to save your ass and fix this mess before Martha comes to work tomorrow morning, gets wind of the problem and informs your grandfather.”
Steve made a great second-in-command, but at times he got on Aaron’s nerves. Although the short, bald man resembled a human beach ball more than a Fortune-500 executive, he had a sharp mind and great business instincts. But he also had a tendency to make a big deal out of nothing.
“Things can’t be that bad.” Aaron led the way down the hall to his corner office. He stumbled to a halt in the doorway. Jennifer’s brother sat ramrod straight in the chair before the desk, resembling a delinquent who’d been sent to the principal’s office but prepared to deny any wrongdoing.
Antonio stood, his attention shifting between Aaron and Steve. “Why are you here?” He glowered at Aaron.
This was not how Aaron had envisioned Antonio learning his identity. “Antonio.”
“I thought you were fishing with my father.” He waited until Aaron sat in the large black leather chair behind the desk, then took his own seat again.
“Your father doesn’t like to fish.”
“No kidding. He’s afraid of the water.”
Ah. That explained the life vest. “He reeled in a five-pound calico.”
Ignoring Aaron’s comment on his father’s catch, Antonio studied the fancy engraved nameplate on the desk. “You said your name was Aaron Smith.”
So much for fish tales. “My real name is Aaron McKade.”
“You run this company?”
“That’s to be seen,” Steve grumped, then added, “I warned Antonio he shouldn’t be here—”
“I have a right to explain my side of the story.” Antonio’s fierce scowl had Steve backing down.
Aaron envied the kid’s determination to claim responsibility for his part in the problem. If he himself had shown that kind of courage when he’d first arrived at the West Coast office, he wouldn’t be in the position of having to prove himself at the age of thirty-three. “Antonio stays.”
Aside from a loud groan, Steve made no further objections as he flung himself into the chair next to Antonio’s. The man should join a drama guild.
“What kind of game are you playing with my sister?” Antonio demanded.
“No game.”
“Does she know you’re—” he motioned to the nameplate again “—him?”
“No. I’d appreciate you allowing me the opportunity to inform her myself.”
A reluctant nod of the head was as good an answer as he’d get from Jennifer’s brother.
Turning his attention to his vice president, Aaron asked, “What’s so critical that you had to interrupt my afternoon with Antonio’s sister?”
“You mean you and—” Steve pointed at Antonio “—his sister are dating?”
Slouching in his seat, Aaron grinned at Steve, whose mouth had sagged. “Yes. Now, let’s cut to the chase. Why am I here?”
“Antonio had good intentions, but he’s created a hell of a mess.”
The younger man’s face reddened and his jaw clenched. Aaron thought Jennifer’s brother would explode, but to Antonio’s credit, he kept a lid on his temper and remained silent.
Unable to imagine how a simple business deal between hotel chains and towel manufactures could go wrong, Aaron murmured, “I’m listening.”
“I shouldn’t have brought him along on the business trip to Latin America last week. While I discussed computer systems with the CEO of the hotel chain, Antonio negotiated his own business deal. He made promises he shouldn’t have and—”
“What kinds of promises?” Aaron interrupted.
In one long breath, Steve expanded on his assertions. “That we’d pay the exportation tax for the textile manufacturers and the hotel’s transportation fees once the product reaches the warehouses in Belize and Costa Rica.”
Oh, hell. What had the kid been thinking?
Antonio frowned at Steve. “May I talk now?”
How many times had Aaron asked his brothers the same question over the years? Rarely they had allowed him the opportunity to explain. “Okay. What were your intentions when you struck this deal?” Steve opened his mouth to interrupt, but Aaron held up a hand. “Let Antonio speak.”
“When I began working here, Mr. Dean explained that my job entailed bringing in new business for the company.” He shrugged. “While Mr. Dean spoke with the CEO, I overheard one of the hotel guests complain to management about the bed linens and towels in his room. After the guest left, I approached the manager and offered to find him a great deal on linens and towels if he’d do business with us.”
Aaron fought to keep from grinning. If Steve continued to scowl, the furrows splitting his forehead in three would become permanent.
“Since the hotel chains already had plans to expand in Belize and Costa Rica and were considering Jamaica and Panama in the near future, I convinced the manager to sample the towels and bed linens manufactured by Westgate and Fleming right here in L.A.”
Impressive. Talk about a go-getter. “Why Westgate and Fleming? They’re midsize manufacturers.”
“Exactly. Increasing their export volume will not only help them compete with the bigger guys, but it will lend the local economy a boost by creating more jobs.”
Now Aaron began to see the whole picture. Antonio and his sister Jennifer were both crusaders. Jennifer utilized a more practical approach, rolled up her sleeves and pitched in to help the little man, whereas Antonio used his keen business mind to effect change on a larger scale. “Makes sense.”
Acting offended, Antonio insisted, “Of course it makes sense. I thought this idea through.”
“What happened then?”
“The textile manufacturers backed out of the deal because of high exportation taxes and the fact that the hotels wouldn’t guarantee future orders without sampling the product first.”
Aaron could understand the manufacturers’ concerns. “All right. The deal went down. Does that constitute a crisis?” He noticed Antonio’s gaze shift to the floor.
“Yes.” Steve rocketed out of the chair and paced the carpet. “The kid promised the resort hotels that as long as they agreed to test the linens, the deal was sealed. Our reputation is on the line.”
Aaron studied Antonio. “You’re a bit of a gambler, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t expect Westgate and Fleming to back out.”
“Do you have an ace in the hole?” Most gamblers did. For the first time since the meeting had begun, Aaron caught a glimmer of uncertainty in the young man’s eyes.
After a long hesitation, Antonio blurted, “If your company pays the export tax and transportation fees on the first shipment, I know I can get the hotels and the manufacturers to come to an agreement on future orders.”
“He’s crazy!” Steve threw his arms up in the air with such force, Aaron expected the limbs to pop right out of their shoulder sockets. “Do you have any idea how much money we’ll lose on this deal, kid?”
“As a matter of fact I do,” Antonio
growled. “Roughly $1.2 million.”
A low whistle escaped Aaron’s mouth. The biggest mistake Aaron had made cost the company $600,000 four years ago. He’d chalked that up to beginner’s bad luck. What the hell would his grandfather and brothers say if he reported an over-a-million-dollar loss? “How confident are you that you can convince the hotels to work with Westgate and Fleming?”
Antonio’s chin jutted. “Very.”
“Too risky.” Steve added, “The hotels will receive their towels at a reduced cost, then we’ll never hear from them again. And we’ll be a million dollars in the hole.”
Aaron agreed. More than likely, the hotels would bail out on McKade Import-Export. But Aaron remembered what it had felt like to have his ideas discounted by his brothers. Antonio deserved a chance to make the deal happen. If negotiations fell through…Already, the I told you so’s rang in Aaron’s ear. To hell with what anyone else thought. This was his branch of the company and he was the boss.
“Antonio. I admire your forward thinking, but Steve has a point. If we’re going to shell out this kind of money, we need the hotel chains to maintain a relationship with us in the future.” Turning to Steve, he insisted, “I want you to fly down there and meet with the hotel executives. Get them to agree to allow our company to handle additional orders for their chains.”
“No way. I don’t want to take the fall if this deal burns out.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. Nothing like watching a fifty-year-old in a full-blown temper tantrum.
“Antonio will handle the negotiations. I need you there to address the legal details.”
Eyes bright, Antonio sat tall and straight in the chair. “You want me to close the deal?”
“This is your project. Your responsibility to bring it to a satisfactory closing for all parties involved. If you can get the hotel chains to sign an agreement that they’ll continue to do business with us after the first shipment, then McKade will stand behind your promise to pay the exportation tax and transportation fees.” He narrowed his eyes. “On the first shipment only. We will not pay out any monies for future orders to either the manufacturers or the hotels.”
“I have a bad feeling about this.” Steve dug in his pocket and pulled out a roll of antacid tablets, then popped several in his mouth.
Aaron hoped Steve’s instincts were wrong. Just when his grandfather had begun to respect him and his business ideas, this had to happen. Antonio had better be able to get McKade Import-Export out of this mess. The family name was on the line. And Aaron knew all too well how much that name meant to his grandfather. “I’ll accompany Antonio to Latin America. We’ll leave tomorrow.”
Relieved of responsibility, Steve exhaled harshly, shooting an antacid tablet out of his mouth, which landed with a slobbery plop on Aaron’s desk blotter. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Okay. Anything else, or can I return to enjoying my Sunday?” Aaron asked.
Antonio stood. “What about my sister? She deserves to know the truth.”
Backed into a corner, Aaron agonized over breaking his promise to his grandfather and telling Jennifer his real name and occupation before his three-month stretch as a construction worker ended. Maybe it was best that Antonio had found out the truth. Aaron was tired of the lie that stood between him and Jennifer. He’d deal with Jennifer and the consequences later. “I’ll speak with your sister after we return from Latin America. If I tell her over the phone, she’ll hang up on me.”
The corner of Antonio’s mouth lifted. “I guess we’re both up the creek.”
Yeah, without a paddle.
WHERE ARE YOU, Aaron?
Jennifer stood on the front lawn of Mrs. Benitos’s home and glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time in less than fifteen minutes. The temptation to ring Aaron’s cell number was so great, she had to shove her hands into the front pockets of her jeans to keep from punching the numbers in her phone.
Today was Thursday and he hadn’t shown up for work all week. Her insides twisted with…fear. Fear. Fear Aaron had quit her crew. Quit her.
Isn’t that what you wanted?
Yes.
No.
Dios, I’m confused!
Deep in her gut she believed there could be no future for her and Aaron, but she didn’t want their relationship to end this way: him disappearing without a final goodbye.
Sunday evening she’d offered to watch Juan’s kids, so she hadn’t been home when Aaron had phoned the house. The short message on the answering machine had left too many unanswered questions: “Jenny. It’s me, Aaron. Something’s come up. I’m leaving town. Not sure when I’ll return. Think of me while I’m gone.”
Think of him? She couldn’t get the blasted man out of her head. Earlier in the week, she’d asked her father what he and Aaron had discussed during their fishing excursion. Her father had been suspiciously close-mouthed, admitting he’d caught a fish, but nothing more. When she offhandedly mentioned that Aaron had left town, her father hadn’t appeared concerned.
But something nagged at Jennifer. This past Sunday, her brother had announced that he was in charge of negotiating a deal for McKade Import-Export in Latin America and didn’t know when he’d return.
Was it coincidence that her brother had left town the same night Aaron had?
Remember his kiss. Aaron’s kiss this past Sunday had been more than a peck on the mouth. His lips had carried a promise—a vow that he’d return. Where was he?
The ribbon-cutting ceremony for Mrs. Benitos’s new home was tomorrow afternoon. Aaron had worked as hard as any member of her crew and deserved to share in the celebration. Truthfully, tomorrow’s events wouldn’t mean as much without him there.
This all-consuming need for Aaron frightened her. Following their lovemaking at his apartment, her mind had believed that what they’d shared had been wonderful but could never evolve into anything permanent. Her heart had refused to follow her brain’s verdict.
After a nine-year dry spell, sex with any man would have been mind-blowing—at least, that was what her mind had insisted. But her heart had dug in and rallied, adamant that their lovemaking had touched her deeply—in a place she’d thought had long died with her mother and brother.
In Aaron’s arms, she’d melted, then awoken. Each of his touches and kisses had worked magic on her body. Slowly, as if her soul had been embalmed in a deep freeze for almost a decade, he’d thawed her and brought her back to life. And where does that leave you now?
A small part of Jennifer regretted making love with Aaron. Numerous times since, she’d struggled to turn off her feelings, but the darn switch had busted. One magical encounter and the idea of going through life alone—without children, without a family of her own, without Aaron—was too painful to consider.
How? How could a single night in his arms leave her exposed, gutted, vulnerable? Simple. She’d lost her heart to him.
Ah, damn. I did, didn’t I?
“The crew asked if you fired the anglo.” Juan stopped at her side.
“I didn’t fire him.” Not only had Aaron left his mark on her, he’d also won over the crew with his team-player spirit, hard work and positive attitude. Was there anything that wasn’t wonderful about the guy?
Maybe one thing. After viewing Aaron’s apartment, she knew her instincts had been correct. No construction worker she’d ever known made enough money to live in the Bunker Hill District, let alone have a private elevator and occupy the entire floor of a building.
“Juan, did Aaron ever mention anything about his past to you?”
“No. But if you’re interested in my opinion of him—”
“You don’t like him.”
“I like him just fine.”
“Then what about him bothers you?”
“I suspect he’s hiding something.”
“You and me both.”
“It’s obvious he never worked construction before.”
“You don’t think he’s on the run from the law, do you?”
she asked.
“No, he doesn’t give the impression of a man who’d break the law.”
Jennifer trusted Juan’s intuition more than her own. “What makes you sure he’s not a criminal?”
He nodded toward Mrs. Padrón’s house across the street. “A guy who cares enough to take an old lady a doughnut isn’t an armed robber.”
She couldn’t argue with that logic.
Juan studied her. “You don’t believe he’s returning, do you?”
What could she say? The truth. “No.” She motioned to the clipboard in his hand. “Is that the punch list?” When she reached for the board, he wouldn’t let go.
“I could call the anglo,” he offered.
“The anglo has a name, Juan.” She resisted the temptation to take him up on the offer. “Don’t bother. I’ ve got better things to do than to worry over a guy who can’t even pound in a nail straight.” Nice try, Jennifer.
“A few things need fixing.” Juan handed her the clipboard.
Jennifer made mental notes on each item until number eleven. She peered around his broad shoulders. “What’s wrong with the window boxes?”
“A stiff wind will blow them off.”
“But—”
“Smith used nails instead of screws.”
Oh, Aaron. “Then he’ll have to fix them.”
“If he doesn’t show today?”
“He’ll fix them tomorrow morning.”
“What if he doesn’t—”
“Then I’ll do it!”
Juan walked off, but after a few steps, he faced her. “Be careful, boss. Smith may be a nice guy, but he doesn’t belong in the barrio. And you wouldn’t be happy living anywhere else.”
Sniffling, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Damn. She refused to cry over Aaron.
“Caught a cold, mi querida?”
Jennifer whirled and almost bumped into Mrs. Padrón and her mangy dog. Blinking the wetness from her eyes, she offered a smile. “Allergies.” Hoping to distract the old woman, she asked, “Would you care to tour the house?”
“Gracias, no. I wait for the grande ceremony tomorrow.”
