by Zara Chase
Shit, he hadn’t realized what was involved when he and Ty had what they thought was a simple business plan to open a fitness center.
“You did good, guys,” Vasco said as they poured through the back door to the gym, some of them still out of breath. This group was going to be a challenge. “Now hit the showers, and make sure you have your menu suggestions for tonight. No cheating. I will know if you do. Just remember, all the exercise in the world won’t do you much good if you don’t think about what you put into your bodies, too. Any questions?” Mercifully there were none. “Okay, we’ll see you tomorrow morning, nine sharp.”
“What do you do for fun in the evenings?” Lauren asked, hanging back when the others took themselves off to the bathrooms.
“I’m booked out with classes,” he lied.
“Shame.” She winked at him. “All work and no play is as unproductive as empty calories.”
“You could well be right. But now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Oh, sure. I’ll catch you later.”
Vasco went in search of his partner, whom he found in the office.
“Hey, Ty.”
Tyler looked up from a pile of invoices he was gloomily working his way through, probably deciding which ones could be ignored for a little longer. “Our insurance premiums have gone up by twenty frigging percent. Can you believe that?”
“Why?”
Ty shrugged. “Fucked if I know. Something about increased public liability.”
“Because that idiot last year tried to lift weights that were way too heavy for him and then threatened to sue?”
“Most likely. Anyway, we’ll have to shop around for something cheaper, I guess.” Ty leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. “How did it go?”
“No one died. They just think they did.”
Ty chuckled. “Always an encouraging outcome.”
“We got a call from Raoul.”
Ty discarded the invoices with a speed that belied any real conviction for bookkeeping. Neither of them was into paperwork, but they just couldn’t afford to pay another employee to take it on, so they had to juggle it themselves, along with everything else. Good job neither of them needed much sleep to get by. “Anything interesting?”
“Hard to say.” Vasco filled him in on what little he knew.
“Well, let’s give the lady a call. Raoul wouldn’t have passed her problem to us if he really thought it was nothing.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Vasco threw himself into the chair behind his own desk and picked up the phone.
Chapter Two
Sorrel nibbled the end of her pen, racking her brains for a phrase to make toilet cleaner sound sexy and dynamic. As if toilet cleaner wasn’t enough of a challenge, the brand name was even worse. Bubblebowl. She giggled as all sorts of inappropriate connotations occurred to her. Uh-huh! She shook her head and adjured herself to concentrate, but her mind remained blank. No, that wasn’t true. Her mind was buzzing with too much other stuff for her to be able to focus on what she did best. The demands on her time, attention and, most of all, her recently inherited money, seemed limitless. Who said you couldn’t buy popularity, she wondered, rolling her eyes before sighing and doing her very best to get her creative juices flowing.
Zilch.
Perhaps a little fresh air would clear out all the junk rattling around inside her brain. She whistled to Marley, the small, wiry black and white stray mutt she had acquired in the way she appeared to be acquiring stray humans recently. Marley had followed her in the park for several days in a row, looking half-starved, near frozen to death and totally irresistible with one ear pointing skyward and the other flat against his head. On day four she gave in and took him home with her. He was proving to be great, undemanding company, as well as unfailingly loyal, and had never given her cause to regret her decision.
“Come on, buddy, let’s stretch our paws.”
Marley jumped off the armchair he had been stretched out in and wagged his entire body. Before she could grab his leash her doorbell rang, and ignoring it wasn’t an option, tempting though the prospect was. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and whoever it was, she probably didn’t want to see them. But she still couldn’t pretend not to be at home. Because she worked from her apartment, her family and friends seemed to think she was available twenty-four-seven. She tried explaining that she wouldn’t dream of calling upon them in their offices in the middle of the working day and expect them to drop everything, but received only uncomprehending stares for her efforts. Sighing, she pulled the door open, Marley yapping around her heels, and her heart plummeted when she found herself face to face with Jordi, her ex. He held a wilting bunch of roses and wore a puppy dog smile. Sorrel had prayed for this moment for weeks after he dumped her. Now her prayers had been answered and she waited for joy to grip her.
All she felt was…well, annoyance.
“Hey, babe, not interrupting anything, am I?”
“Actually, you are. I was just on my way out.”
Jordi ignored her, thrust the flowers into her hands and pushed past her into the apartment. Marley growled at him, but Jordi either didn’t notice, or chose to ignore the frosty reception he received from both dog and its owner.
“I thought we could grab some dinner.”
“It’s four thirty in the afternoon.”
“Early bird special. I need to go into work later.”
Cheapskate. He was a celebrity chef in a top-end restaurant but wanted to palm her off with a cheap, fast meal. And not so long ago, she would have been pathetically grateful for the attention.
“I think you got the wrong address. We don’t date anymore.” His smile widened, infuriating Sorrel. “We broke up.”
He flapped a hand. “Aw, that was nothing.”
“You never wanted to see me again.”
“We were stagnating. We needed a break for a while.”
Anger surged through Sorrel. Where had he been when she had needed him so badly? The fact that he seemed convinced he would be welcomed back with open arms told her that, like her family, he just assumed he could push her around because she had always allowed it.
Not anymore.
“Now, let me see if I remember this right.” She canted her head and rested her chin in her splayed hand. “I’m narrow-minded, cramped your style, clung, and what else was it? Oh yes, I was fat.”
“I did not say you were fat.”
No, but you implied it. “So what’s changed?”
But Sorrel already knew. Her father’s will had been probated, and she’d gotten the lion’s share. Her parents had divorced several years previously, and Mom had received a very fair settlement at that time. Her brother and sister had constantly gone to Dad, hands outstretched for help with their latest wild projects, none of which flourished. Only Sorrel had wanted nothing from him other than his unconditional love. One year after his death, she still seldom got through a day without crying for the loss of him.
Dad, bless his heart, had made good on his promise to Sorrel and ensured her siblings’ greed was reflected in the final distribution of his inherited family wealth. Pete and Maggie had been stunned, and complained long and loud about the unfairness of it all, conveniently forgetting that they had already received more than Sorrel finished up with. Dad thought he was doing her a favor. He couldn’t have realized the squabbles and bad feeling his thoughtfulness would create.
Jordi had broken her already shattered heart when, at the time of her dad’s death, instead of being there for her, he took up with one of her so-called friends, claiming Sorrel had let herself go. That it coincided with him being headhunted for a top chef’s job in a chic restaurant hadn’t escaped her notice. Presumably, looking as though she enjoyed his food a little too much was bad for business. But now her appearance had improved, along with her bank balance.
“Look, babe, can’t we at least be friends?”
“No, it’s not genetically possible fo
r single, heterosexual men and women to be friends.”
“Who told you that?”
Sorrel waved the question aside. “It’s a well-known fact.”
She waited for him to ask about Marley. She hadn’t owned him at the time of their break up. He didn’t, but Marley continued to growl at him. Good dog!
“Okay then, if we can’t be friends, let’s be business partners.”
Here it comes. “Why?”
“Why?”
Jordi looked like he didn’t understand the question. Sorrel watched him as he struggled for words, wondering what the attraction had been. He was fun, she’d give him that, as well as being popular and was quite good looking. Everyone told her he was a catch and she was lucky to have him, so she believed it. Now she saw a weak, vacuous man, and figured he’d done her a favor by ending the relationship. If they’d still been an item when her dad’s money had come through, she would have been vulnerable, leaning on him for support, and he would soon have talked her into parting with it.
“Yes, Jordi, why? Why would you want me for a partner? I know absolutely nothing about the catering business.”
“You don’t need to. I know all there is to know.”
That was a stretch but still, for all his faults, Jordi was an excellent chef.
“I’m going into business on my own. Opening my own restaurant.”
“Congratulations.”
He seemed taken aback by her lack of enthusiasm. When they had been together, she would have thrown herself into his arms, told him how clever he was, how convinced she felt that his venture would succeed, and encouraged him to go for it. Now, she couldn’t give a damn what he did, just so long as he didn’t think he would get to do it with her money.
“Is that all you can say?”
She shrugged. “What would you have me say?”
“Listen, darlin’, just take a look at this.” He handed her a sheaf of papers. “These are the premises I plan to take in a really good location, start-up costs, projected profits, the works. Once you see what a good investment it is, you’ll trip over yourself to get involved.”
“If it’s such a surefire thing, why involve someone else?”
She folded her arms beneath her admittedly oversized breasts and sent him a look of innocent enquiry. Like he wasn’t at least the fourth person to try and tap her for a loan since her dad’s will had been published. Did they really think she was that naïve? Jordi had good reason to, she supposed. She had been pathetically grateful to call him a boyfriend, but that was in another life. Once she got over him she decided she was better off flying solo, rather than getting her heart trampled on by someone else. There was nothing a man could give her that her vibrator could make a much better job of. Admittedly, it only had Jordi to compete against, which probably wasn’t saying much, but still…
“Sorry. I’m not with you.”
“Why not just go to the bank and ask for a loan?”
“I could do that, but I wanted to give you an opportunity to get in on the ground floor.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, I thought you’d be pleased,” he said smugly.
Arrogant bastard! “That’s real kind of you, Jordi, but I think I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Pete’s on board.”
Sorrel flexed a brow. “What, my brother? That Pete?” Now this was starting to make sense. “I had no idea you guys kept in touch.”
“Our paths cross, being in the catering industry. Pete has great ideas for some signature cocktails to launch the restaurant. He’ll run the bar, obviously.”
Sorrel managed not to shudder. Unlike Sorrel, Pete and her sister Maggie were both tall, slim and beautiful, with acres of charisma, just like their mother. But Pete was hopelessly impractical. The money he had begged from their dad went to opening his own bar. It didn’t survive the first year. Sorrel felt obliged to remind Jordi of that fact. Her ex was many things, most of them unpleasant, but he was an excellent chef and didn’t deserve to have his dreams shattered by an impractical partner.
“Oh, Pete has learned from his mistakes,” Jordi said airily.
“But he has no actual money to invest.” Sorrel narrowed her eyes at her ex nearest and no longer dearest. “Did he suggest you talk to me? Is that what this is all about?”
Jordi looked sheepish. He had obviously expected Sorrel to fall all over him, and didn’t know how to handle the new, improved, independent version. “Well, he did mention you might be interested.”
She held the papers out to him. “Sorry, but it’s not for me.”
“Keep them.” He looked and sounded a little desperate. “Read through them and we’ll talk again when you’ve had a chance to think about it.”
Don’t hold your breath. Jordi tried to kiss her but she moved out of range.
“I’d really like it if we could get together again real soon.”
I can’t think why. “Thanks for dropping by,” she said, opening the front door and standing back to let him pass through it.
“Later, babe.”
Much later.
Sorrel didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. But this time the tears would be caused by humor, not heartbreak. Everyone connected with her seemed to think she had just gotten off a banana boat. Yes, she’d inherited a lot of money, but not enough that she could give up working, or finance half the schemes of…well, of her scheming friends and relations.
Before she could pick up Marley’s leash, her phone rang. Just like her doorbell, she found it impossible to ignore. It might be to do with work.
“Hey, darling.”
Sorrel smothered a groan when she heard her mother’s voice. She was well aware she was her mother’s least favorite child. They had very little in common, Sorrel being much more like her father than her brother and sister. Mom and Maggie were walking fashion gurus. Sorrel glanced down at her overweight body and conceded she was more a fashion victim. Mom had been in touch with Sorrel more over the past few weeks than she had for years. Big surprise. She had run through her divorce settlement in less time than it took Marley to chase his ball across the park. She had failed to retain the interest of the wealthy entrepreneur whom she had left Dad for, and was now constantly on the lookout for someone to finance her high-maintenance lifestyle.
“Hi, Mom. I was just on my way out the door.”
“I’ve been reading about this amazing new cruise line. We really ought to try it, darling. It sound divine. And the accommodations are just to die for. We could go next month.”
“Is it expensive?” Sorrel asked out of curiosity. She was interested to know how much her mother expected to take her for this time.
“Oh no, it’s really amazingly cheap.”
Uh-huh. Sorrel’s mom didn’t do cheap. “Well then, I really think you should go.”
“I’m so pleased, darling. I could book—”
“I’m sure your friend Molly would like to go with you.”
Sorrel was being a bitch, which was most unlike her, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d had enough of being taken for a fool. She wasn’t supposed to know it because Mom would find it too embarrassing to admit to her failure, but Maggie had told her in a rare moment of sisterly solidarity—make that sucking up—that Molly was the reason why Mom was newly single. Molly had snitched the eligible entrepreneur from right under Mom’s nose.
“Molly’s busy right now,” she said curtly. “I thought you and I could go, darling. When did we last take a vacation together?”
When did you last take an interest in me? “No can do, Mom. I have a job, remember.”
“Oh, but you can do that from anywhere.”
“No.” Sorrel gritted her teeth. “Actually, I can’t.”
“Well look, don’t decide now. I’ll e-mail you the details. I’m sure you’ll change your mind once you see them.”
Sorrel managed to get off the phone without committing herself to the floating nightmare, but it rang again almost immediately.
> “I am not going to answer it,” she told Marley, who sat with head cocked to one side, patiently waiting for his walk. “I’m absolutely not.”
Marley whined his agreement.
“Yes.” Sorrel snatched up the phone, furious with herself for being unable to break the habit of a lifetime. She only hoped for their sakes it wasn’t her sister or brother, asking for yet another favor.
“Is that Sorrel Lang?”
Someone trying to sell her something. That was all she needed.
“Yes, but I’m not buying,” she said with what, for her, was bluntness that bordered on being downright rude.
“I’m not selling.” The amused, rich masculine voice on the other end of the phone made her insides curl and her regret being so curt. It was the sort of voice that wrapped itself around its listener like a sexy comfort blanket. Could blankets be sexy? Stop it, Sorrel. You’re not working now. “Vasco Blaine. Raoul Washington asked me to call.”
“Oh God!” Sorrel clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry for being so brusque.”
“Bad day, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
“I hear you have a problem.”
“Yes, you see—”
“Not over the phone. You’re in downtown Seattle, right?”
“Yes, but I have a car. I can meet you somewhere.”
“My partner and I have business your way this evening. Let’s meet in person and talk about this.” Vasco named a small, little-known restaurant that just happened to be a favorite of hers. She took that to be the first positive sign in an otherwise shitty day. “Do you know where it is?”
Sorrel did, obviously. It was off the beaten track, family run, cheap and good value, so not a hang-out for the beautiful people keen to be seen. Which meant it suited Sorrel perfectly. Jordi had always spoke of it with disdain. They agreed to meet there in two hours’ time.
“Well, Marley,” she told the dog, suddenly feeling much better. “That’s a turn up for the books. Someone wanting to do something for me for a change. Come on, sweetness, we’re going to meet a silver-tongued guy who will probably be a huge disappointment in the flesh.” She rolled her eyes. “But what do we care, right?”
