Kate pulled the phone away from her ear. Was she even necessary to this conversation?
“Too many questions to answer right now. The short answer is yes, yes, and yes. Just wanted you to know about Clark. I need your take—on everything. We’ll talk later, okay? Right now, I need to go. I have tons to do today.” And she wanted to process every second of last night before she shared with her best friends. Before she decided what to share with her best friends.
“Oh, no. You don’t get to throw out a remark like that and leave me hanging. I’m calling Ellie. Tonight after work. The Tavern. Dinner and drinks on me. That is, unless you have plans with Mr. Last Night. Please, Kate, please…just tell me if it’s Mr. Sunglasses.”
She smiled into the phone. “Yeah. Mr. Last Night is one and the same as Mr. Sunglasses.”
“Ooh, I can hear that tone. The tone that says you really like him. Haven’t heard that in way too long. If I know you, you’re going to rehash everything, second guess every word, so I’ll leave you to it. Tonight, Kate. Don’t be late. We’ll want details…this is so great—our girl is finally getting some.”
Kate laughed as she tossed aside her cell.
Ten minutes later, Ellie called. “I’m so excited for you. How was it? Is he as nice as he looks?”
“Tonight. Give me until tonight, okay?” She laughed and leaned back in her chair. “But I’ll give you this much. The answer to your question is yes, he’s every bit as nice as he looks. No. More.”
Ellie groaned over the phone. “Oh, my. Every detail, do you hear? Every word, every action… You did get some action, didn’t you? Gigi said you did.”
Big silence.
Ellie chortled. “Oh, oh, my. My girl got kissed?”
Again, big silence.
Ellie whooped. “My girl got her some hot man last night.”
“Shush, Ellie. Everybody in your office and mine will hear. We’ll talk tonight. See you then.” Kate punched the red end-call button on her phone and grinned.
Her cell rang again. She’d never get any work done at this rate.
Clark’s number came up on the screen.
Ugh. Probably wanting to know if she got the flowers. As if she could have missed them. He always was one for grand gestures. Even when he abandoned her—quite the drama.
She ignored the call, and five minutes later he called again. Then again and again. Finally, she hit the green button. “Clark, you do not get to call and interrupt my day.”
“Baby, it’s good to hear your voice.” He ignored her bad humor. “Did you get the roses? I know how you love the white ones.”
Really? She hated white roses, and he very well knew that. Not wanting to draw out the conversation, she ignored a possible argument. “Yes, Clark, I got the roses. Don’t send me flowers. Don’t call me. Don’t come to my home, and please, do leave me the hell alone.”
“You don’t mean that. You’re just hurt, and I don’t blame you, baby. I acted like a shit. But I’ve missed you so much. I didn’t realize how important you were to me until it was too late. I’ve been meaning to call you, and then when we bumped into each other… Come on, can’t we get together and talk this through? I’m prepared to grovel. I’ll do anything you want—just give me another chance.”
“No, Clark. I’ve moved on.”
“That guy isn’t you. He’s all muscle and brawn. He couldn’t mean what I meant to you. What we meant together.”
“Past tense, Clark. Meant. As in over, done, finished.”
“I don’t want a life without you, Kate. I screwed up, and I regret it more than you will ever know. I learned my lesson, and I want you back. I’m not giving up on us. You’re still angry, and I don’t blame you. Sorry my call and the flowers upset you. Wasn’t my intention. Just give it some thought. We meant a lot to each other once, and it could be like that again.”
“Clark…” she began.
“Think about it, promise me, and I’ll call you in a few days. I still love you, Kate—I never stopped.”
Clueless man. Totally ignored her feelings or anything she had to say. She’d been blinded by her dependence on him when they were together, and her belief in their mutual love. But her eyes were open now. His definition of love and hers were totally different.
Turning to the papers on her desk, she tried to block Clark Burgess from her mind. She wanted to give all her attention to a dinner party the foundation planned for next month. A small, elite group of movers and shakers in the community who would be invaluable in convincing the business moguls and entrepreneurs to put their name and money behind the scholarship trust Stars of Hope had established. What she needed was something small and intimate, yet impressive. Perhaps a celebrity appearance, sports figure, something unique as a draw. Good food, wine, an elegant venue that would appeal to their egos and, hopefully, their civic-mindedness.
Taking a notepad, she scribbled a few names and a reminder to ask Cash for his list of potential recipients.
She smiled just thinking about him. Would he have any idea what last night meant to her? As a breast cancer survivor? As a woman? As just plain Kate?
Of all the men on earth, he was probably the one who would. And thank God for that…for him. She’d prayed that somewhere out there was a man who would come into her life and love her, flaws and all.
Enter the Montgomery family. Making her think. Making her feel. Bringing her out of her shell.
Making life matter again.
Chapter Twelve
Kate glanced at the clock. Half past three. She needed caffeine to make it until five, so she went to the break room and brewed a single cup. Strong. Dark. Bitter. A wake-up call.
She set her mug on the side of her desk and picked up a printout of Cash’s earlier e-mail. There were four families on the short list for scholarships. All deserving. Kate wished she could offer tuition to each one, but of course that wasn’t possible.
Cash had passed along the names of several potential candidates, and the grant committee at Stars of Hope would settle on three applicants of promise. Kate liked them all. About fifteen deserving young people—all hoping for financial assistance, and the money to fund only three scholarships. Unless they came up with a windfall, the remainder would have to apply next year.
Her phone rang, and she dug through the papers littering her desk to put her fingers on it. She smiled as she saw the photo ID of the caller.
Cash.
“Hey, handsome,” she answered with a smile and heat rising to her face. Memories of their night together flooded her mind, and she inhaled a deep breath. Oxygen—she needed oxygen.
“For some reason I just can’t get you out of my mind. Could be I’m bewitched. Maybe I need the kiss of a fair maiden to break the spell.”
Kate giggled. “That could be arranged. Know any fair maidens?”
Cash laughed. “Only one. I’m hoping to see her later today. Think that might be possible?”
“Another thing that could be arranged,” she countered. “She might have a magic spell breaker that could be put to good use.”
“I’m counting on it,” he said with an intimate rumble that caused a ripple of anticipation.
Necessary three-sixty.
“By the way, did you get my recommendations?”
“Just going over them now. I don’t know how I’m supposed to make a decision, when they are all wonderfully qualified.”
“Tough one, for sure.” He sighed. “Listen, Suzanna and I were wondering if you would like to have dinner—maybe play a short board game before she turns in for the night. Later, we could go over the files, see if there are three stand-outs you could recommend.”
“I’d appreciate any help you could give, and I’d love to see Suzanna. Tell you what, I’ll bring a big salad and dessert—I made some chocolate chip cookies last night. How does that sound?”
“I can think of something with fewer calories for dessert,” his voice rumbled into her ear.
Goosebumps rose on her
skin, and she squirmed at the sudden dampness between her legs. An image of the two of them, coupled in ecstasy, took her breath. The sound of his voice, so low and delicious, his words, so suggestive, made her long for a do-over of the night before.
“Yeah,” she breathed. “So can I.”
“So, it’s a date? Around six okay?”
“Actually, tomorrow would be better. I have dinner with the girls tonight.”
He chuckled in her ear.
“My ears are already burning. I assume from what I observed at Tortilla Joe’s you three are the sharing kind. Should I call the guys for backup?”
She grinned into the phone. “Yeah, we share. No backup required.”
Cash groaned.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be safe—I don’t share details. Not all of them, only the good ones,” she teased.
“Okay, I get the picture. Tomorrow it is, then…think of me tonight. And, Kate? Be gentle,” he cautioned.
“Always,” she answered softly.
She ended the call with heated cheeks and a wildly fluttering heartbeat. Good grief. All she had to do was hear his voice and she was reminded of the way he made her body sing and her heart pound. Like right now. Heat and heartbeats, and something else she didn’t want to examine.
Something that could bring her joy…or break her heart.
Head spinning like a top, she wondered if she was ready for this? For him?
Maybe not. But even as she opened her mind to the possibility of the two of them, in her heart she knew it was too late. Cash was too compelling, too much man to ignore. Truthfully, she didn’t want to. She’d ride the wave as long as it lasted, and take as much as she could for as long as she could. Enjoy him, his daughter, and the hope that she didn’t crash at the edge of the sand in a total wipeout.
A knock on her door interrupted her daydreams.
Sarah, her assistant, stuck her head in. “Special delivery for you.” She appeared concerned. “I don’t think you want them, but I thought I should ask.”
“What?”
Her assistant opened the door wide and brought in another arrangement of white roses. As she approached Kate’s desk with a wry smile, she commented, “I thought we’d heard the last of Clark Burgess. White roses. His trademark, or sign of poor imagination?”
“Both, I’m afraid.” Kate ruefully snorted. “He saw me leaving a restaurant with someone the other day and has been a pest ever since. Phone calls. Flowers. He suffers from the delusional thought that I’d consider taking him back.”
Sarah frowned with pursed lips and an exasperated expression.
Kate waved off further discussion about Clark and his perfidy. “It’s over. He wanted out of my life, and he’s going to stay out of my life. Please make arrangements to send any further flower deliveries from Mr. Burgess to the Veterans Hospital. I’m sure they can make good use of them.”
“My pleasure.” Sarah closed the door behind her.
Real work claimed her attention, including the several files on her desk. As was her habit, she focused on a power-point presentation and noted the need for copies for the board.
All were qualified candidates. It killed her to makes these types of decisions.
If she had unlimited funds, she’d award a full ride for the winner and partial scholarships to in-state universities to the students at the bottom of the list. That was a very big “if.”
The remaining kids were highly qualified, and neck-and-neck as far as grades, activities, and community service. Their files contained letters of recommendation from teachers and coaches—all highly complimentary. The deciding factor would have to be the families’ circumstances and needs.
Kate lost track of time as she read the stories of the students and their families. Taylor Carpenter. Eighteen years old, with a four-point-two GPA. Advanced placement classes. She’d worked a hundred and fifty hours in community service at the VA, played soccer on her high school varsity team, listed the Junior Red Cross and Art Club as extracurricular activities. Course of study—psychology with the intention of earning her doctorate and counseling vets. Mother, high school math teacher. Father, Gordon, injured in Iraqi Freedom, quadriplegic.
God, the price we ask men to pay for freedom. She’d want to interview this girl.
Carolina Vaquero. Same age—in fact, all four of the top applicants were eighteen years old. Four-point-one GPA. High school offered dual enrollment. A big plus for the student, and for Stars of Hope. She’d graduate high school with an Associate’s Degree, ready to begin classes in her major, Elementary Education. Completed mandatory community service, held down a part-time job after school, sang in the school chorus, was on the cheer squad, and editor of the school newspaper. Smart girl. Mother, Selena, stay-at-home mom. Two siblings also in high school. Dad, Cordero, lost right arm and leg above the knee in Iraq. Explosion—the only one of his unit to survive. Living on disability—barely surviving would be more like it.
Another hero struggling through sacrifice. Definitely worth consideration.
She felt a pull at her heartstrings. How was she ever going to decide?
Then there was one of Cash’s recommendations. Todd Burnham. Same GPA, a hundred fifty volunteer hours, captain of the football team and president of Future Business Leaders of America. Mother, Celia, working in retail at a local high-end clothier. Father, Todd Sr. Again, on disability. Traumatic Brain Injury. Challenges with cognitive functioning and anger. The kid would be on his own paying for school. Tough life.
She hated that these men who had given so much still suffered so greatly, and their families along with them.
The last young man was James Turner. Four-point GPA. Forward on the basketball team, more than enough volunteer hours, father lost both arms and legs in Afghanistan and was now deceased, leaving four sisters and James to care for his mother in the end stages of… Oh, no.
Cancer.
Kate froze. Bile clogged her throat, and she swallowed the gut reaction to the mere mention of the word.
She could hear the word, write it, see it—didn’t matter. Always this…a fist to the gut. Her personal enemy. The family lost their dad last year, and now faced losing their mother. No doubt James would feel compelled to help raise his sisters. How would he complete college? How could he? She hated to think of another promising life wasted by missing out on an education. Potential obscured by necessity. She couldn’t let that happen—no way.
She earmarked his file. This young man needed more than tuition for school; he needed all the help he could get. She’d call her contact at the American Cancer Society. See what options were available to the Turners.
Leaning back in her chair with a burdened sigh, Kate closed her eyes as the pictures of the young people in their files ran like a slide show behind her lids. She had to remain objective. If she couldn’t, this project would eat her alive. Every one of these students were qualified and deserving. She’d meet with accounting, go over the financials. See the net dollars remaining after expenses.
Cash had said something about a small, exclusive event for big dollars. She’d pick his brain for what he had in mind. There was money to be found in this city. Money and generous people. If benefactors knew the degree of need…if people were more aware of veterans—of their sacrifices, their circumstances—and were willing to dig deep if the cause was just. The name of the game was to convince potential donors. And get these kids into college.
Kate called Cash at the VA, fingers crossed that he hadn’t yet left. “Hey. You busy?”
“Never for you, lady. What can I do you for?”
“I know we agreed to discuss this tomorrow night at dinner, but I just had a thought. I’ve been over the files for the scholarships. Four good, potential candidates. Thing is—I want to offer all four a full ride. To do that, we’re going to need more money. I’ve been thinking of our conversation about a small get-together—movers and shakers with deep pockets. You said you might know of someone who would be a draw?”
>
She could envision his grin from the happy sound of his voice. “Sure do. My friend Allison Chandler. She’s the one who plays piano so magnificently. The one you pretend not to listen to in the middle of the night.”
“The Chopin? The Beethoven?”
“One and the same. I spoke with her over the weekend and mentioned your foundation. She has a lot of experience with that sort of thing—she and her husband fund Brett’s House in Birmingham, Alabama. Heard of it?”
“No. But her music speaks for itself. Do you think she would help us out?” Kate asked.
“Not over the Fourth of July. She’s already booked, but she suggested a fall-back date the middle of April,” he replied.
“You know, that sounds perfect. If she could schedule a performance Saturday, April twenty-third, I could tabulate the proceeds and start notifying the students. By that time, they should know if the college of their choice is offering scholarship money, and we can subsidize the balance. If you’ll contact Allison, I’ll follow up with an e-mail and begin arranging the venue, decorations, catering, and everything else. Will she need an orchestra?”
“Depends on the program. Do you want an evening, or an hour with dinner and dancing to follow? What do you think?”
“I think you’re a fabulous dancer, and you love it. Therefore, in honor of your helping to secure one of the foremost musicians in the country to perform for zillions of dollars a plate, we’ll toss you a bone. My guess is that our local artists will jump at the chance to meet and perform with Ms. Chandler. A performance, then dinner and dancing it is.”
“That’s the least you can do for zillions of dollars. I’ll call her right away and let you know. Get busy on your end, and we can meet to finalize. Say midnight, if you’re home, that is. Balcony east? A nightcap and…dessert?” Cash hinted.
A Little Night Music Page 12
