Redeeming The Billionaire (The Sherbrookes of Newport Book 5)

by Christina Tetreault

  With the phone call out of the way, she lost herself in the proposal for the Lancaster home. Before she left today, she wanted it done.

  ***

  “How long are you around for?” Trent and Sara had left his father’s office and returned to his downtown apartment.

  “About a week. The governor is on vacation with his family in Hawaii. Christopher is arriving tomorrow and since everyone is at Cliff House, we thought we’d visit for a few days then head over to Martha’s Vineyard. Jake and Charlie plan to stay until Sunday, and then they are heading to North Salem to see her family. I don’t know how long Dylan and Callie plan to stay.”

  Trent made a mental note of everyone’s plans. At some point between today and the weekend, he’d make an effort to get to Newport. “I appreciate your input today,” he said. “If you weren’t working for the governor, I’d ask you to run my campaign.”

  Sara played with the engagement ring on her finger, a thoughtful expression on her face. “So you’re definitely going to run?”

  Trent leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

  Across from him, she shook her head. “If it’s what you want, I say go for it. Just think hard before you sign on with Marty.”

  The only time he heard anything negative about Marty Phillips it came from the candidates that ran against whoever hired him. “He was your father’s campaign advisor, and he’s got a great reputation. I don’t see a problem.”

  “He knows what he is doing and he gets results,” Sara said. “Sometimes his methods are questionable. If you want more details, ask Dylan.”

  Now she really had him curious. “Come on, Sara. Out with it.” He doubted he’d get anything else from Sara. She’d always been good at keeping a secret, even as a child.

  Sara took a sip from her tea before she answered. “You’ll have to ask Dylan, Trent. But take Marty’s insistence today that you get married.”

  “You didn’t think the idea of marriage was terrible.”

  “And I still don’t, but a real marriage not some sham. You can’t use someone like that.”

  “Sara, you wouldn’t have said that a year ago.”

  “I might have been more open to the idea,” Sara replied. “But even then I would have thought there wasn’t enough time to pull it off.”

  If he took Marty’s advice, he didn’t plan to use anyone. He’d be upfront about the whole thing from the beginning. People might call him a lot of things, but he wasn’t cruel. “If they know going in, Sara, no one will get hurt. I haven’t decided yet, but if I take Marty’s advice, it’ll be like a business deal.”

  Sara actually rolled her eyes at him, reminding him of his younger sister, Allison. “Falling in love and getting married wouldn’t kill you. Jake was almost as bad as you when it came to women and look how happy he is now.”

  The number of women that had passed through his cousin’s life didn’t even come close to his. Although Jake had been known as a playboy, much of his reputation had been exaggerated. The same couldn’t be said for him.

  “I don’t think I’m cut out for a relationship like Jake’s. I have never met a woman I could picture spending the rest of my life with,” he said. “And since we’re talking about marriage, have you and Christopher set a date yet?” Anything was better than having yet another female relative lecture him about how he lived his life. “Or are you taking a page out of Jake’s book?”

  “Do you even need to ask? I don’t think my mom has completely forgiven Jake yet,” Sara answered. “We picked June 23 for the wedding. Mom says it isn’t enough time, but I’m not worried.”

  Chapter 2

  Everything in the office had a feminine touch to it, yet it remained just neutral enough that if anyone walked in they wouldn’t think he’d taken over someone’s office. Of course that was exactly what he’d done. Now that he’d turned his position over to his brother Gray, he needed to ground himself here in Rhode Island if he hoped to make his way into the Senate.

  This new position as Regional Director for the Northeast at Sherbrooke Enterprises would allow him to solidify his presences in the state. At the same time, the position gave him a new challenge and allowed him to be closer to family. As much as he’d loved his previous job, it no longer possessed any challenges and it kept him away from his loved ones. Now he worked just blocks from his father and floors above his Aunt Marilyn, who was the director of The Helping Hands Foundation. Originally started during the Great Depression by his great-grandmother to help provide for homeless families, the organization had grown over the years. When his grandmother stepped down as director in the eighties, his own mother had taken her place and expanded the foundation even more. Following her death, his father’s sister, Marilyn, had taken over as director, and today the foundation provided help to homeless shelters, public schools, youth programs, and senior centers.

  Yes, the change was for the better, but something had to be done about this office. Next week he’d have his secretary contact some local interior designers. Trent dismissed all thoughts of his office and grabbed the top folder in his inbox. Several area hotels were set for renovations in the upcoming months and he wanted to review the final proposals before he signed off on anything. After that, he would start on the proposal for the new luxury resort proposed for Ogunquit, Maine.

  As he turned to the second page for a Sherbrooke Express Hotel located in Hartford, there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” he said as he continued to read.

  “Mr. Jackman from Guardian Construction called. He rescheduled your meeting until next week. I already updated your calendar,” Shirley said. “And Mrs. Belmont’s office called. She wanted to know if you’d be available for lunch this afternoon.”

  Trent eyed the stack of folders before him. “Not today. See if tomorrow works.” He enjoyed spending time with his Aunt Marilyn but needed to get caught up. According to the date stamp on some of the proposals, they’d come in several months ago, well before the previous regional director left. “What exactly did Monica do anyway? Some of the proposals I read through last night came in five months ago.”

  Shirley, who had worked as assistant to Monica as well as the director before that, glanced at the folders. “She was out a lot after she became pregnant. In the past I helped Monica with these, so if you want I can take some of the proposals and go through them.”

  As tempting an offer as it was, Trent shook his head. “You have your own responsibilities. I’ll handle this.”

  A look of relief passed across the forty-something-year-old assistant’s face. “Please let me know if you change your mind.”

  Once Shirley left, Trent returned his attention to the Hartford project. Once he completed that one, he grabbed the next project in the stack. Like the ones he’d looked through the night before, most of the renovations were standard updates. Still, he didn’t want to make any assumptions about the ones he’d yet to read. So one by one, he made his way through the stack, working through lunch and into the early evening. By doing so, he managed to complete a nice chunk of work.

  Trent rubbed his eyes. He’d read so much today his eyes burned. Tomorrow he’d tackle the rest. Right now he needed some food and maybe a coffee or two. Otherwise, he risked falling asleep on the way to his stepmother’s get together later tonight.

  “I’ll see you in the morning.” Trent stopped at Shirley’s desk located just outside his door. Despite it being well past five o’clock, the woman remained. His first day at the office when he’d left at six and she’d still been working, he’d questioned it. Evidently, Shirley had school-age children and acted as her daughter’s soccer coach and her son’s Cub Scout leader. In order to make it to those things, she left early on Mondays and Wednesdays, but stayed late on Tuesdays and Thursdays to make up the hours. Since the schedule had been in place for a few years and seemed to work, he saw no reason to change it.

  Shirley glanced over at him and smiled. “Have a n
ice evening, Mr. Sherbrooke.”

  The heat and humidity broke over him like a wave when he stepped outside. Inside his cool air-conditioned office, he’d forgotten about the heat wave that gripped much of Southern New England. Thankfully, Ambrosia Pastry Shop and Cafe was only a few streets over.

  By the time he reached the bakery door, sweat dripped down his back making his undershirt stick to his skin. The smells drifting out of the bakery made the unpleasant situation well worth it. Just as he was about to enter, a woman with two children in a stroller appeared. Stepping to the side, he held open the door for her and then followed inside. As he waited for his turn, his eyes swept over the store. Several college-aged customers sat at the various tables. Some shared the extra large desserts while others studied and drank coffee as they ate freshly made panini.

  “Did Uncle put something different in these?”

  The female voice grabbed his attention and had him looking back at the table closest to him. The woman who sat there had her back toward him so he couldn’t see her face, but the voice and hair he recognized. Or at least he thought he did. Was that the same woman he’d bumped into earlier that week? She’d mentioned she worked in the area, and while he’d kept an eye out for her over the past week, he’d never seen her again.

  “He added some coconut water to the batter. How is it?” a woman dressed in an Ambrosia T-shirt answered from the next table as she washed it down.

  “They’re amazing.”

  It had to be the same person. Stepping out of line, he walked around to the table prepared to say hello, until he remembered he didn’t know her name. Not that something like that ever stopped him from talking to a woman. “You’re a regular here, too?”

  The woman’s head snapped up. “You could say that. Besides, no one makes better Italian wedding cookies than this bakery.”

  “Do you mind if I sit? I promise not to spill anything on you this time.” He let his mouth curve into a smile.

  The woman moved the unopened magazines on the table. “Have a seat. I already finished my coffee so it’s probably safe,” she said with a straight face despite the laughter dancing in her eyes.

  “That puts my mind at ease.” Trent sat down before he continued. “I don’t think I got your name the other day.”

  “My name is Addison, but my friends usually call me Addie.” Addie closed the magazine she had open and added it to her pile.

  He’d given her his business card the other day but it seemed appropriate to give her his name now anyway. “It’s nice to see you again. I’m Trent.” He stuck out his hand.

  Addie accepted and out of habit his eyes went to her left hand, which was bare of any rings. “You didn’t get burned the other day, did you?” The day following the incident he’d expected a phone call from a law office saying he was being sued for scalding a woman with hot coffee.

  Addie shook her head, a stray piece of chestnut-colored hair falling over her forehead. “Believe it or not, I’ve spilled hotter coffee on myself before.” She tucked the hair back behind her ear.

  “I’m serious about the top. Please send the bill to me.” His stomach growled when a student walked by carrying a slice of Tiramisu.

  “The stains came out in the wash. I wore the top again yesterday.”

  His mouth watered when he caught a glimpse of a pizza going by. “I need something to eat. Can I get you anything? Another coffee?” If he couldn’t cover the dry cleaning bill at least he could buy her a coffee today.

  For a few seconds she considered his words. “If you think that’s safe,” she said with humor in her voice. “Otherwise, some water would be great, too.”

  “Since we’re both seated I think we’re okay. How do you like your coffee?”

  “Extra light with sugar.”

  “Be right back.” Trent stood and rejoined the line at the counter.

  A few minutes later, he placed a plastic tray with two mugs of coffee and a spinach pie on the table. “Maybe you should take your coffee off yourself.”

  With a small chuckle she reached for the extra light coffee. “Excellent choice. I had that for lunch yesterday.”

  “You do come in here a lot.” Trent wasted no time taking a bite of his food.

  “My office isn’t far from here so I’m here at least once a day.” She popped another piece of her cookie in her mouth and then washed it down with her coffee. “The girl that just finished washing the tables is my cousin and the woman that waited on you is my aunt. My uncle is probably back in the kitchen.” Addie took another sip from her coffee. “I don’t remember ever seeing you in here before. And trust me, I’d remember.”

  “Whenever I visit my father’s office I stop in. Now that I’m working in the city, I’ll be around more.” Trent tore his spinach pie in half.

  “Thanks for the warning. I’ll make sure to pay extra attention when I’m walking around here from now on,” Addie said, her voice lighthearted.

  Trent smiled and took a good look at the woman seated across from him. Thanks to his behavior over the years and his well-earned reputation, most women, especially unmarried ones, flirted with him or made outright sexual overtures. Except for perhaps his younger sister Allison, no females ever razzed him with slightly insulting jokes. And he liked it. In fact, he liked that he could just sit and enjoy coffee with a woman who didn’t seem to expect anything but perhaps a conversation from him.

  “You mentioned your office isn’t far from here. Who do you work for?”

  Addie wiped her hands on her napkin. “Myself now. I used to work for Ducat and Wakefield Designers in Boston, but I opened my own office here two years ago.”

  “You must be talented. My stepmother hired them to redecorate their estate on the Cape. She insisted they were the best.”

  A hint of pink colored Addie’s cheeks and she glanced down. “I worked on that project. It was one of the last ones I worked on before I left. It’s a gorgeous estate.”

  The color on her face intrigued him. He’d never seen anyone blush from a mere compliment. “Why did you leave?” He reached for the other half of his food, content to sit and continue their conversation.

  Across from him, Addie folded and unfolded the cover of a magazine. “I wanted more control. I learned a lot working for Ducat and Wakefield, but they keep all their employees on a tight leash. All ideas need to be approved by management before they can be presented to clients. Working for myself, I can work closely with my clients. Really get to know them. It makes it easier.” Addie glanced down at her wristwatch and pushed back her chair.

  “I need to go. I have an appointment to get to, but thank you for the coffee.” She stood and grabbed her magazines.

  On instinct, Trent came to his feet. “Anytime.”

  With a smile, she pushed in her chair and began to turn away.

  Once again it struck him how different she was. She hadn’t slipped him her phone number or intentionally prolonged their time together. “My new office needs a make over. Would you be interested?” His office did need a facelift, and he didn’t want this to be their last conversation. He’d enjoyed it too much for that.

  Addie’s eyes widen just enough to reveal her true feelings.

  “Yes,” she answered without any hesitation.

  “Great. I’ll have my assistant call your office and schedule an appointment. Do you have a business card?”

  After a few seconds of digging around in her purse, she held out a card.

  “Excellent. Shirley will be in touch with you on Monday.”

  “Sounds good. Have a nice weekend.”

  Once she disappeared out the door, he took his seat again. Reaching for his coffee, he looked at the ivory business card in his hand. The words Designs by Addison in bold black script took up much of the space and in the bottom right hand corner her contact information and address were printed.

  ***

  Addie hadn’t even made it out of the parking lot behind her office building when her phone rang. She pu
lled out the phone as she turned onto Atwells Avenue. “Hi, Chloe,” she said, recognizing the number on the screen.

  “How in the world did you end up having coffee with Trent Sherbrooke?” her cousin asked, not bothering with a polite hello first.

  The car in front of her moved when the light changed, and she took her foot off the break. “We sort of bumped into each other earlier this week and he spilled my coffee.” Just as she approached the intersection, the light turned red again. “Darn it.” Friday traffic sucked. She should have been paying closer attention to the time. If she were lucky, she’d make it to the other Ambrosia bakery located in Providence just in time for her shift. Her mother managed the first store opened by her great-grandfather in the Federal Hill section of the city and she noticed if an employee was even a few minutes late.

  “I guess that explains how you met but not why he sat and had coffee with you.”

  The light changed again and Addie crossed the intersection. In the distance she could see the archway and the giant bronze pine nut that welcomed everyone to the Federal Hill section of Providence. “He wanted to make sure I hadn’t gotten burned and he offered to have my blouse cleaned.”

  A sigh came through the phone. “I wish someone like that would check on me. So what’s he like?”

  “Nice.” Addie turned into the tiny lot behind the building. According to the dashboard clock, she’d have just enough time to change her clothes before her shift started.

  “That’s all you have to say? This is Trent Sherbrooke we are talking about. He dated that princess from Denmark last year. You know, the one that no one can figure out how to pronounce her name.”

  “I don’t have time now, Chloe,” Addie said as she pulled open the back door into the kitchen. “I’ll call you this weekend.”

  “You better.”

  In less time than it took Clark Kent to change into Superman, Addie changed out of her skirt and top and into jean shorts and a black Ambrosia T-shirt. She’d told Trent she had an appointment. While it hadn’t been a lie, it hadn’t been the complete truth either. Several times a week she worked at the bakery as a way to supplement her income. So much of what her business brought in went right back into the company that she had little left over for her own personal expenses. When she’d worked in Boston money hadn’t been an issue. They’d paid her well enough right out of college that she’d quit working at the bakery. Someday she hoped that would be the case again. Until then, her job in the family business allowed her to squeak by month to month.