Bona Fide Beauty

by Landra Graf

  “I want to.” Her musings brought a tear to her eye.

  Dev reached up with a single thumb and wiped the drop away. “I want to make sure you don’t cry when being told you’re beautiful. You are.” That single digit turned into a palm caressing her cheek. “Let’s make sure no one ever makes you think otherwise. Together.”

  She leaned into his touch, craving it. No escape from the want he inspired. The riot roared to life inside her. Instinct ordered her to move closer, and logic screamed to stay away. They were a pairing of impossibility. Why did his touch feel right? Unable to stop herself, she turned and pressed a kiss to his palm.

  He groaned. “You’re a temptress, too.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  A shake of his head, and then he leaned in closer to her. Fire lit his chocolate eyes. “I want to break all my rules at this moment and am trying hard not to.”

  He sharply inhaled, as if scenting the tension in the air. “Tell me to back away,” he whispered with force.

  Breath hot against her skin, she only needed to inch a fraction closer, and they’d meet again. Forbidden fruit, indeed. Was she Eve or the serpent? “I can’t.”

  Then a sharp rap on his car window had her springing away from him, the moment brought to an abrupt end, like two kids caught necking in a park by the cops or something. When she turned in her seat to find out who in the fresh hell had interrupted what would’ve been the second best kiss in her life ever, she came face to face with the wide smile of Purple People Eater herself.

  “Just the two people I was looking for.”

  Dev tried not to be annoyed as he got out of the car first, but failed. He walked around the car and into Kat’s front yard. “Were you following me?”

  There had been times he’d considered reporting Pru and filing a restraining order, but the number of times he “ran into her” had started to become less frequent. Twice in one week and now outside Kat’s house, though? She was pushing it.

  A hand fluttered innocently to her neck. Her green eyes widened. “I can’t believe you’d think that of me. No, I wasn’t following you. I’m here to talk to Ms. Baum, who, conveniently, is in your car. I had no clue you knew her.”

  He heard the passenger car door shut and turned to look at Kat, who appeared dejected. She already had her bags from the back seat.

  When he faced Pru again, she smiled at him and then sidestepped. “Hello, Ms. Baum. Gorgeous day, isn’t it?”

  “What do you need this time?” The sadness in Kat’s voice made him want to step in, to come to the rescue. But letting Pru rattle on would get him more answers.

  “The city has determined that your house is a danger to you and the community. They are concerned about you living here, unless the house is brought to code quickly. So they’ve changed the deadline. You have six weeks.”

  “That’s half the time they originally told me.” Kat trudged four steps forward, standing beside him. A glance showed her nostrils flared, chin high… she was pissed. “I’d like to see official paperwork. Why didn’t the city call me?”

  Pru reached into her Gucci shoulder bag and hauled out an envelope. “This just happened late Friday. They planned to call you on Monday with the letter going in the mail on Monday as well, but I asked for a copy to deliver personally. I wanted you to know as soon as possible.”

  Kat’s ears were a bit red as she snatched the envelope and ripped it open. “Yeah, especially if it gives you an opportunity to gloat.”

  “Well...” Pru did her best to look offended, yet Dev caught the twinkle in her eye. “Don’t kill the messenger. Besides this isn’t personal. Just business. I had no direct influence on reducing the deadline until the next inspection.”

  They stood in silence as she read, but his ex decided the moment needed to get worse. “Also, since you’re here, I won’t have to call and ask—did you want to grab an early dinner? Talk about business.”

  Dev shook his head, trying to think of a nice set down. “I don’t think—”

  Papers ruffled in front of his face, cutting off his concentration.

  “Are you kidding me? Have you two been dating this whole time? This is like a bad reality show. Where the hell is the camera?” The rant came out pained and high pitched. Kat shoved the city papers into one of the shoe bags. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to figure out your dinner plans.”

  She marched off then, slamming her front door behind her. Dev kept staring, wishing he’d had a chance to correct her misguided notion. He was still reeling from the fact that Pru somehow knew her.

  “So, early dinner?”

  “With you? I think ‘it’s never going to happen’ are the appropriate words. How are you involved with her?”

  Pru’s gaze narrowed. “I think I asked you the same question a few minutes ago.”

  “She’s Mark’s cousin, and I’m helping her with some suggestions as she’s building out a new wardrobe.” Not entirely the truth, and not a lie either. The less ammunition the woman had, the better.

  “Well, her house is the last one I need on this block for my beautification project. It’s been here forever with no updates or work and is becoming an eyesore. She didn’t want to negotiate to sell, nor did she want to fix things.”

  “I thought the project belonged to the city and they just appointed you as the head of their board.”

  “I’m entitled to consider it my baby; this has grown to be a big deal for me. Like a crown jewel to wipe away the stain of my husband’s legacy involving all that shady contracting. You know the rest.”

  “Babies tend to be more personal than business.”

  “A metaphorical baby isn’t the same as flesh and blood. Regardless, this house will soon belong to the city.”

  “So you lied. You worked around the rules and are going to steal her house from underneath her. She doesn’t stand a chance, does she?”

  Pru gave a dismissive swipe through the air. “You make it sound so ruthless, but I’m doing her a favor. You should have seen the write-up Tom had to do. The house is a fire hazard and a death trap waiting to kill her. She doesn’t have the money to get everything fixed.”

  “She obviously has some. There was an electrical contractor re-wiring things all over the place today.”

  He liked how his statement gave her something to worry about. She cast a look at the electrician’s van and back toward the door. Dev could’ve sworn he saw the living room curtain move a bit, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Yes, I see. But the damage is more than some simple electrical work. There are plumbing and heating and foundation violations, thousands of dollars of work. Updating her wardrobe should be the last worry on her list.”

  A good point, which made him happy he’d paid for everything so far. Happy to know that his little bit of chivalry had saved her a couple of thousand dollars to use on her house. But it raised other questions, ones he wouldn’t get answers to right away.

  “It bothers me, Dev, that you think I’m so cruel. I offered her a contract that would allow her to stay in the home.”

  “One that primarily benefits you?”

  “The best contracts do. You know I have investors, including myself, to look out for with the project. Same as at the company.”

  “You are a cruel witch.”

  “If I am, I learned from the best.” She stepped closer to him, trailing two fingers from his shoulder to his wrist. The contact repulsed him.

  “Please take your hands off me, and I didn’t teach you those things.”

  She stepped back, lips pursed. “Funny, you weren’t pushing someone else away. In fact, I can’t recall you ever refusing anyone who wanted to give you a little attention until now.”

  “I don’t recall ever asking for any, especially when I told you we were done.”

  “But we’re not. And we won’t be. I own a stake in your business, sit on the board. We can be friends and try to make this work, or not. Either way, I’m in your life unless you don’t want to be
in the image consultant business anymore.”

  Her words were a kick to his gut, like a well-placed football skimming past the goalie’s outstretched arms and between the posts to take the lead in the game. Hurting her back meant stooping to her level, throwing her past at her. He wouldn’t do something like that to his worst enemy. “I’m not done with my business, and you’re not the only investor or the sole decision-maker.”

  The confrontation escalated his need to get everything in gear and continue his work with Kat. He’d started to make headway, had begun tasting the hints of success once more. Until Pru had showed.

  “Why are you trying to take Kat’s house out from under her?”

  “Like I said before, she didn’t want to agree to our terms.”

  He could hardly believe she’d refused a free renovation, especially with an electrician putting holes in her walls. “I’m a little surprised. That seems unlike her.”

  Pru’s gaze narrowed. “Tips, huh? It looked like you were much more familiar with each other.”

  “I don’t see how anything I’m doing with her is any of your business.”

  “Fine, not my business. Have a nice afternoon, Dev. Let me know if you change your mind about dinner and decide to play nice.”

  She didn’t spare him a glance as she got into her car, started the engine, and drove off.

  One problem vanquished, he still had to deal with the aftermath of Pru’s little interruption. How could he get Kat to let him in again? He feared the worst based on his client’s automatic shutdown after she’d gotten out of the car. The look of betrayal in her eyes played over in his head. He’d need to come clean, to talk about his past, and worst of all, admit his mistakes. Dulce madre.

  11

  Her phone dinged, and she didn’t want to look at it. No, not after yesterday’s run-in with Purple People Eater and the confirmation of Dev’s involvement with her. The papers, cutting her deadline for the housing evaluation in half, acted as the vomit icing on the manure cake. Since then, she’d stayed inside wearing sweat pants, a big T-shirt, and furry socks. There may have been a pizza involved, along with a package of cookie dough she’d found in the freezer.

  Believing in people once again had bitten her in the ass. No matter how she replayed the events from yesterday, she couldn’t get the smug look on Pru’s face out of her mind. The woman gave the definition of vindictive a new meaning.

  She retied her hair, pulling it back into a low ponytail, and sighed. Wallowing on a Sunday sounded like a brilliant idea. No more contracting work until later in the week, she’d made sure of that. The text alert sounded again, and this time, she decided to take a peek. Just one glance to see if maybe her friends wanted to get together and watch a game at their favorite watering hole. Instead, it was from him.

  Sorry for yesterday. Care to meet me for a chat? I’d like to explain things.

  The second message was more of the same.

  I don’t deserve it, but if you give me a shot, I think I can help make things right. Have I led you wrong so far?

  No, he hadn’t, but it only took once to get another piece of your fragile psyche ripped apart. She’d been left, abandoned more times than she cared to recount. The insanity of yesterday proved she needed to steer clear to protect herself and her future—Gran’s house would be lost if she didn’t complete the makeover. Maybe he wanted to give her that, to officially end their working relationship. If the makeover ended successfully, she got the cash.

  She texted back, where?

  Rogers West Side Baptist Church.

  That’s half a town away from me. What time?

  As soon as you can get here.

  Kat dressed, opting for jeans, a blouse, and the black wedges from yesterday. He’d wanted her to break them in, at least that’s what she told herself. The outfit wasn’t about showing what she’d learned or proving she’d completed the clothing portion of the makeover. She wanted to put her best foot forward, to show Dev his efforts were working.

  The drive over didn’t quell her thoughts—mainly fears. Her evil brain concocted ideas about Dev sidetracking her while Pru sabotaged her contractors. Maybe Mark was in on it, too. For all she knew, everyone stood in the background laughing, watching her fail. How her brain hated her, derived some sick, sadistic pleasure in twisting up her insides and creating a world of doubt. She hated it.

  Then she pulled into the parking lot, recognizing Dev’s BMW off to the side. There were a few other cars, but no big signs warning her of a trap. She got out and walked in the front door. A woman with blond hair pulled back in a ponytail stood with a clipboard reviewing some boxes of clothes at her feet. Her ears were covered in piercings, and she wore a shirt that said, “got pepper spray?”

  Kat cleared her throat. “Hi, I’m looking for—”

  “Mr. Esposito? You’re here to help with his pop up interview session, aren’t you?”

  She didn’t know how to respond to that question because, to be honest, she had no clue what she was here for besides the explanation he’d promised her via text.

  “Oh, don’t be nervous. My name is Theresa.” The woman bent down and grabbed another clipboard from a big bag at her feet. She offered it to Kat, along with a pen. “All you need to do is fill out those two sheets and sign them. It’s a standard confidentiality clause, understanding our rules, and permission to run a background check. While you do that, I’ll go through the rules. When you’re working with the ladies, do not ask about their circumstances or what brought them here. If they want to bring it up, they can, but you’re not to inquire or ask personal questions. Second, you should refrain from making any promises about coming back for another visit or taking our ladies anywhere. Finally, if they ask for anything, refer them to me. Most of them will be shy and reserved, but asking for money, tobacco, a ride somewhere, or alcohol is something I need to be aware of. . These women have all gone through tough times, and the last thing they need is to be let down again or led down a path they’ve just escaped from. Sometimes that one thing can impact whether one of our ladies are successful moving forward. We want them all to be living on their own and keeping their lives on track.”

  Kat signed the paper and handed the clipboard back. “What if I mess up?”

  She was out of her depth, way outside the realm of her normal life. The rules reminded her of a sanitized hospital room where you couldn’t touch anything for fear of spreading dreadful germs. What the hell had Dev gotten her into now?

  “It’s okay. You won’t mess up. There will be other people, like me, in the room to help you navigate the waters. You’ll figure out the ins and outs pretty quickly. Also, don’t be afraid to refer them back to me or Dev. We prefer that versus the ‘ask forgiveness, not permission’ philosophy. From what he’s told me, you’re here for the interview session as an example to the ladies of what they might face. I’m also sorry my little speech sounds so harsh; it’s basically verbatim of what the instructions say, and we have an even stricter policy for those who volunteer at the shelter, along with mandatory training. If you follow me, I’ll take you to where Dev is. He’s already started reviewing resumes with the group. They are super excited.”

  Theresa led Kat down a hallway. The church was spacious; they passed a kitchen and eating area, the main worship room, a small gym area, and finally they arrived at one of the classrooms, probably Sunday school from the drawings and coloring sheets plastered along the wall. A group of ten women sat in small-ish, child-sized chairs, all of them with eyes focused on the man at the front of the room with a display screen behind him showing the elements of a resume.

  “So, to review, name, address, and phone number are centered and in size fourteen font on the top of the page. Everything will be kept in Times New Roman. It’s tempting to do fancy things, different font colors, but those are the bad ways of standing out. Your skills and the way you present yourself are the good ways.” Dev turned his focus from his rapt classroom to her, and he smiled, nothing fancy or
earth-shattering, more like a look of relief. “Ladies, I’d like you to look over the list of interview questions in front of you. I’m going to prep our mock interviewee real quick.”

  She couldn’t move momentarily, not as he approached her. Attraction punched her in the gut, hard and deep, nearly wiping away any lingering frustration she had toward him. Today he’d dressed in another suit, obviously because he was working. His hair was pulled back, goatee freshly trimmed.

  Before he could reach her, an older woman outstretched her hand and brushed his coat sleeve. “Mr. Esposito?”

  “Yes, Rose?”

  “What if I don’t have a phone number?” The woman with coal-black hair and thinner-than-normal arms and hands looked genuinely fearful.

  “Then put the number to the shelter. They can take a message for you when employers call to request an interview.”

  Rose scoffed at him. “Never happen.”

  “Kick those thoughts aside. We’re here to believe in ourselves, not put ourselves down. Don’t let someone else’s crappy attitude become yours. Now, take a look at those interview questions.”

  He continued toward her, and Kat couldn’t stop the wave of admiration washing over her at how he’d helped Rose, encouraged her. When he stopped in front of her, she wondered if this wasn’t the first time he’d been misjudged.

  “You found the place.”

  “Yep, I did.” Jeez, she sounded like an idiot.

  Theresa took the chance to chime in. “I’m super excited you have someone that’s not me to demonstrate the interview Q&A. I suck at interviews.”

  “Then hopefully this little session will help you too,” Dev replied.