by Laura Simcox
Ivy ignored the comment. “As you all know, Marcus is generously sponsoring the downtown renewal, and although it’s only been four days since it was announced, we already have one new business preparing to open its doors.”
There was applause in the audience as Marcus blindly searched the room for a seat. He found an empty folding chair at the end of a row and sat, smoothing his tie. He couldn’t feel like a bigger asshole if he tried.
“What’s the new business?” called a woman in the back.
Ivy smiled. “We’re keeping that a surprise until the ribbon cutting. But we couldn’t have even gotten started on this venture without Marcus’s support. Which is why I’m happy to announce that he’s going to…ah, further that support by building a major business here in town.”
Marcus’s head snapped up. What was she doing?
“Well?” Ronald asked. He smoothed his hand over his bald spot. “What is it? We haven’t got all day.”
Ivy glanced at Marcus, and he automatically stood. But his feet wouldn’t move him toward Ivy.
She turned to Ronald. “You want downtown filled with new businesses, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Isn’t that why Marcus is sponsoring the contest?” asked Ronald, sniffing.
“It’s not a contest. It’s a challenge,” commented Alberta, crossing her arms.
Ivy drew in a breath before anyone could start bickering again. “It will be great when our downtown is thriving again, but it will be vulnerable unless we bring a big employer back to town. People need jobs in order to shop.”
Herman and Ronald both opened their mouths but stopped when Ivy held up a hand.
“Just hear me out,” she continued. “Marcus is willing to be that big employer. You see, he intends to build and operate a large retail store within Celebration’s town limits.” She paused and lifted her chin. “A Megamart.”
Silence filled the room.
Marcus held his breath. He stood there, near the front of the quiet room, and glanced at the town council. Ronald’s doughy face was pinched in a grimace, Alberta looked like a petrified owl, Herman scowled at the tabletop, and Preston…Preston smirked as if he’d suspected the truth and just been proven correct. Which maybe he had.
Marcus coughed. “What the mayor is trying to say—”
“Thanks, but I’m fine,” interrupted Ivy. She glared at him, and he sat back down. “Any questions or comments?”
The room burst into noise. Angry whispers mingled with the sounds of scraping chairs and a few curses. Dozens of hands shot in the air.
Ivy pointed to one of them. “Yes. Go ahead.”
“This is bullshit! A Megamart would kill the stores downtown,” a man sputtered.
The woman next to him stood up. “My husband is right. We don’t want it.”
“It’ll kill the grocery store and that’s been in Celebration for sixty-three years.” Ronald hefted himself to his feet and pointed a finger at Marcus. “I knew you were too slick for your own good.”
Herman cackled. “Been trying to tell him that, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Marcus looked at Ivy, trying to catch her eye. She ignored him and stood still, watching as the crowd get louder. Not saying anything as some of them even questioned her loyalty. Pretty soon, she wouldn’t be able to get control back.
He stood up. She turned slowly and looked right at him. It was then that the realization struck him. She was allowing this to happen. She was trying to sink him, in public, before he had a chance to speak. He stared at her.
After a minute, she faced forward, lifted her gavel, and rapped it on the lectern. The noise level died down, and Alberta rose to her feet.
“Excuse me,” she said.
Ivy banged the gavel again.
“Excuse me,” Alberta repeated. She clapped her hands sharply and the room went quiet. “I’m just wondering something. May I speak?”
Ivy gave her a weary smile. “Feel free.”
Alberta turned her eyes on Marcus. “Why? Why would you sponsor the downtown renewal and then turn right around and destroy it a few months later with your own store?”
He folded his arms. “That was never my intention,” he answered.
“Well, dear, what is your intention?” Alberta blinked at him.
“That’s the million-dollar question,” Preston said. “Why don’t you tell us?”
Marcus walked to the lectern and stood next to Ivy. He looked out at the faces in front of him. “I would never put my money into the downtown renewal thinking it would fail—that’s just bad business. I want it to succeed. I want us all to succeed. Celebration will thrive, and a Megamart will just be part of it.”
He made eye contact with a few disgruntled people and then gripped the sides of the lectern. “There is an active promotion program within the company, giving employees the opportunity to move into management and beyond. Plus, they will have the security of benefits.” He paused for a beat. “I know. I haven’t convinced you yet. Let me tell you my story.” He moved away from the lectern and began pacing slowly in front of the table.
“When I was seventeen, I started working part time at a Megamart in Syracuse. I stocked shelves, swept the floors, and basically did everything I’d learned to do working at MacNamara’s Drug Store right here in Celebration. When I turned eighteen, I moved to full time, and within a few months, I signed up for the premanagement program. I got a raise. By the time I was twenty-two, I was an assistant manager. My pay doubled. At twenty-five, I was a full manager and making as much as an aerospace engineer.” He waited for a moment before continuing, but no one spoke.
“Two years after that, I began working as a location specialist and learned firsthand about the positive impact that Megamarts have on communities. I also learned how those communities can partner with Megamart to support charities. Just last year over twenty million dollars was donated to relief organizations worldwide.”
He caught the glance of a woman who was holding a toddler and ventured a small smile.
“Megamart supports schools. Over the past ten years we have given grants in excess of five million dollars to fund computer equipment in struggling school districts.” He stood still in front of the now-quiet crowd, his voice projecting enthusiasm. “Megamart even forms relationships with community leaders to customize support for projects such as library renovations, holiday toy drives, and public park improvements.”
Raising his arms, he glanced slowly around the room. “I want Celebration to have those things. And since I’m personally invested in the town, you have my word that my store won’t cause any harm to what our home stands for.”
As he watched the crowd, the hostility on a few faces softened and a couple of people nodded at him. It wasn’t the best reaction he’d ever received from the speech, but then again, he hadn’t had the chance to give his full pitch. He’d just have to take what he could get, which didn’t come as a shock. The entire time he’d been back in Celebration, nothing had come easy. But he’d never had anything easy in life. He could handle this.
“Think about it,” he said. “And give me a chance.” With a pointed look at Ivy, he walked out of the room.
Chapter Thirteen
Ivy paced the kitchen of her house, twirling the curly phone cord around her fingers. Her jaw clenched, and it was all she could manage not to scream “Shut the hell up!” into the receiver. Thanks to being tired—and wired on one cup of coffee too many—her patience was spread tissue thin. And Preston was not the person she wanted to talk to right now. Marcus was. But he hadn’t returned her calls yesterday after the town meeting, and he’d ignored her voice mails today, too. She glanced out the window at the glare of the setting sun on the hard-packed snow, then closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Preston, that’s excellent. When can George come to Celebration?” She frowned. “What do you mean? If he’s that interested in buying the bakery, shouldn’t he—”
“It’s the holidays, Ivy. He’s
busy, and I don’t want to put the pressure on yet,” Preston said.
Ivy heard video-game noises in the background, and she raised her eyes toward the ceiling. “Do you mind pausing Angry Birds for a second so you can explain what—”
“Hang on,” Preston interrupted. “Damn. Almost had him.” He sighed. “There’s nothing to worry about, okay? This is a sure thing. George’s dad basically told him to get off his ass and help expand the company, and this is the perfect opportunity. I couldn’t have approached him at a better time.” He paused. “Hey, I know! Why don’t I go skiing with him next week? That ought to seal the deal.”
“You have a job. You’re in charge of the Christmas Festival,” she reminded him, twisting the phone cord so tight now that her fingers turned white.
“Make Marcus do it. He’s got some serious sucking up to do,” Preston commented.
She sighed and started pacing. “No. You need to stay here and convince George Parker to come visit. If need be, have him bring his dad along. And then seal the deal before Marcus wins over the town. He’s already got Alberta in his corner.”
“I don’t have much sympathy for you,” Preston said with a snort. “Especially since you decided to keep me in the dark about the Megamart.”
“I apologized to you yesterday after the meeting. And I explained that Marcus asked me to keep it quiet until all his ducks were in a row.”
Which they still aren’t. Marcus didn’t have the land. She secretly hoped to hell that he wouldn’t get it at all. It would make her life a lot easier.
“Whatever, Ivy. I suspected something was up anyway. Herman told me last week that Marcus wasn’t in town just as a do-gooder.”
She stopped pacing. “What else did he say?”
“Nothing specific. Just that he’d been talking to Marcus about that piece of land out on the edge of town. So I came to logical conclusions, and now I know the whole truth. You’re going to need me to stop Marcus.” He laughed. “I love it, babe.”
“Preston, don’t read into things that aren’t there. Yes, I want you to sell the bakery. Yes, I want the town council to welcome the new owner with open arms. And yes, I want the Megamart to get shot down. But that doesn’t mean—”
He laughed again. “You keep walking that tightrope, babe. I’ll be there to catch you when you fall off.”
It was a good thing they were talking on the phone. If Preston were there, she might strangle him with the phone cord. The doorbell rang before she could shout even the tiniest expletive at him.
Ivy ran to the kitchen window and peered out. Marcus’s Lexus sat in her driveway, and her heart leaped into her throat.
“I need to go, Preston. Do me a favor and don’t call me again tonight, okay? We can talk at work tomorrow.” She hung up and untwisted her fingers from the phone cord.
The doorbell rang again.
She smoothed her hands over the sides of her hair and glanced down at her formfitting T-shirt and yoga pants. Old, but not too unattractive. Then she looked at the goofy Christmas kitten socks on her feet. “Shit!” Bending down, she yanked them off and stuffed them behind a sofa cushion. She glanced at the chipped polish on her toenails and sighed. Wincing as she crossed the cold wood floor, she unlocked the front door and opened it.
Marcus stood on her porch, his large hands shoved in his jeans pockets. His leather jacket was unzipped, and underneath he wore a T-shirt that clung to his abs like a second skin. At the sight of his crooked grin, all the reasons she was pissed at him flew out the window, and her hands moved forward, wanting to touch him.
He glanced down, and she pulled them back, folding her hands under her arms. “Hi.”
“Hey. We need to talk.”
She nodded, stepping away from the door. “The kitchen is warmest.”
He followed her in, taking off his coat. She peered back over her shoulder and saw him drape it over the edge of the sofa, smoothing it with his large hands. She turned around quickly, sucking in a breath. How was she supposed to concentrate when all she could do was imagine them on her?
“Um, have a seat,” she said, walking to the refrigerator. “Do you want anything to drink? I have water or juice, or I could make some coffee.”
As Marcus dropped into a chair, the phone on the wall rang.
She sighed. “Just a second.” Putting her hand on the receiver, she swallowed and then picked it up. “Hello?”
“Hey, babe. I almost forgot to tell you something.”
She wanted to scream. “Preston, it can wait until tomorrow.”
“What does he want?” Marcus asked, standing up and moving toward the small space between the refrigerator and the spot where she stood next to the phone.
She breathed in his scent and walked to the opposite corner near the window, stretching the cord. “Listen, Preston. You don’t need to call me every time you have a new idea.”
Marcus grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, clearly making himself at home. “Why doesn’t he call you on your cell?”
She held the receiver to her chest. “Probably because he knows there’s no caller ID on this ancient house phone. Now quit interrupting me. I’m trying to get rid of him.”
Marcus chuckled and set the water on the table. He stretched, and Ivy found her gaze riveted to the line of skin between his T-shirt and jeans. It looked like a firm, warm, perfect place for kisses, to put on some lipstick and leave a trail around his middle. She raised the receiver back to her ear and turned to face the wall.
Why was he being so laid-back, anyway? Since he hadn’t bothered to return her calls, he had to be pissed that she’d tried to derail his Megamart speech. What the hell did he think she was going to do, though? Sit there and let him railroad right through her town hall meeting? She’d asked him not to talk about it.
Ivy took a deep breath and interrupted the boring drone of Preston’s voice. “Preston. Preston! Look, I gotta go. Tell me about it tomorrow. ’Bye.”
Ivy whirled to hang the receiver back on the wall cradle and banged her knee squarely into the open refrigerator door.
“Ow, dammit.” She winced and hopped across the room on a bare foot. “That thing is out to get me.”
“I didn’t close it very tightly,” said Marcus in a pleasant voice. “My fault.”
“No, the fridge is possessed.”
Marcus winked at her and picked up the newspaper sitting on the table. “Whatever you say, Ivy.”
“You know what, Marcus? You’re driving me crazy. Just yell or something and get it over with.” Ivy plunked down across from him and glared until he looked up. “Then it’s my turn to yell at you.”
Carefully, Marcus laid out the newspaper and sat back, folding his arms across his solid chest. “You want me to yell at you?”
“Yes, dammit. Aren’t you mad at me?”
“Sure.” He toyed with the bottle of water.
“And I’m pissed at you. So then…”
“But this is infinitely more fun.” Marcus chuckled and reached across the table for her hand.
“What is?”
“Watching you squirm.”
Ivy pulled her hand away and narrowed her eyes. “Seriously? Diabolical much?”
Marcus threw his head back and laughed, and Ivy gazed greedily at his throat. That looked kissable, too. Bitable even.
“You even sound like the devil,” she added.
“So did my mom when she’d give me the ‘nice’ treatment after I’d misbehaved. It scared me to death as a kid, but it worked.” Marcus pointed a finger. “And it works on you, too. You’re putty in my hands.”
“You wish.”
“You have no idea what I wish,” he continued in that fake pleasant voice, except this time it was pitched lower.
“Oh, I have a general idea,” she managed.
“You may think you do, but if you knew what was going through my mind right now, you’d throw me out the door. Or…maybe not.”
Ivy’s head snapped up, and she stared a
t him. “What do you mean by that?”
“Whatever you want it to mean, sweetheart.”
Her mouth—just moments before watering from the thought of kissing him all over—went dry. Holy shit. The man was a master manipulator.
Time to change the subject.
“Sounds like your mother knew just how to guilt-trip you.”
He frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“Oh, you know. The reverse-psychology thing.” She laughed. “You’re a tough nut to crack. I’d love to see her in action.”
Jerking to his feet, Marcus replaced the cap on the water and set it on the counter next to the sink. “Well, you can’t. She’s dead.”
Ivy closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I…I forgot.”
“Obviously.”
She stood and walked to him, placing a hand on his warm shoulder. “I’ll bet she was an amazing woman.”
He averted her gaze and gripped the sink. “Occasionally.”
She hesitated and then rubbed her hand down his arm. “How did she…”
“It was a fire. I was…at school.”
“How old were you?”
“Ivy, I’m not in the mood to play twenty questions about the death of my mother. Don’t you want to talk about what happened at the meeting?” He raised a corner of his lips in a small, crooked smile, and his eyes flashed fire. She took a step back and turned away.
“Yes. I want to know why you decided to ignore my request to keep your mouth shut about the Megamart.”
Marcus cleared his throat. “It had to come out sooner or later.”
She raised her arms and let them fall back at her sides. “You do realize what an awkward position that put me in?”
“I’m aware.” He jerked his head to the side. “And I’m also aware that you manipulated that crowd in an attempt to make me out to be some kind of monster. Even though you know that’s not true.”
Ivy hesitated again, but when he didn’t turn around, she walked through the archway into the living room, guilt washing over her like a foul-smelling river. Why did her feelings about this man get more tangled the more time she spent with him? Things in her life would be a lot smoother if she could just manage to watch from the sidelines sometimes instead of flinging herself head on into the muck.
