Once the guys got over their shock and reined in their anger, Jason put them all to work inventorying the damage and making lists of supplies they’d need. He put Tim on equipment inventory. The SOBs who broke in had stolen more equipment—expensive equipment. Man, his insurance company was either going to love him from the increased rates or drop his ass.
He and Dave were in the middle of creating an action plan when Cherry and Tawny flew through the front doors and came to a skidding halt in the middle of the room.
Neither said a word. Tawny went straight to anger; her body practically vibrated with the energy, and he made a note to stay on her good side. She crossed her arms in front of her and slowly turned around, looking at everything before walking off to inspect the rest of the building.
Cherry, on the other hand, showed every emotion through her eyes. First they widened, then they narrowed to dark slits as the shock gave way to anger. Heat flushed her cheeks. She ran a hand over the fresh graffiti as she walked past, reading the words and sidestepping the debris from the holes punched into the wall. At last she turned to Jason, eyes filled with tears, shoulders slumped, and head slowly shaking as she took in the broken windows they’d already replaced once before.
If he could have cleaned up the mess, repaired the damage without letting her see it, he would have. He would have done anything to avoid seeing the sadness on her face. This place meant the world to her.
He took a step in her direction, to wrap her in his arms, but when she looked away and gave a slight shake of her head, he stopped. Business partners by day—that was the deal.
Walking into Jason’s arms sounded better than chocolate. It also would cause what little composure she held on to to slip away. Not that anyone here would care or even be shocked if she did wrap herself in Jason’s embrace, but a deal was a deal, and she’d been the one to set the terms.
“We’ll need to call the insurance company, get an adjuster out here before you do anything. Looks like you and your guys have today off. Have you called the police yet to file a report?” She raised her head, met his gaze, all trace of sadness gone, replaced by the calm professionalism he’d seen at the gala check-in. Or so she hoped.
“No, I called you first. We have taken inventory, have a list of what is needed for repairs, but I wanted to wait for you and Tawny before calling the officials.”
He got it, got her. Could he see the anger radiating off her? Could he tell she was doing everything she could to remain in control of her emotions, not to rant and rave or smash what was left of the windows or create a few new holes of her own in the walls? If only she could turn back the clock to yesterday.
This day just kept getting better and better. First thing this morning she’d gotten an alert she’d set up for anytime her name popped up on the web. Someone (one of the cops, good ole Dail, or maybe his wife) had leaked the alley/Midnight Burglar incident to the gossip rags. Now this. Thanks, reality, for the bitch-slap upside the head. Honestly, there are nicer ways to deflate a girl’s orgasmic cloud nine.
“Thanks for waiting.” A few moments later Tawny rejoined them, along with the men. Tawny offered to call the break-in to the police and stepped outside, Dave went with her. Both Tim and Bobby offered to do a coffee run, leaving Cherry and Jason alone.
“How much is this going to set us back?”
He blew out a breath, hooked his hands in his back pockets. “Time or money?”
“Both.”
“A couple of weeks and probably around fifty grand.” He took a couple of steps until they stood inches apart. Heat radiated off his body. She wanted to step into his arms, have him hold her. “I’ll talk to my window guy, see if he can cut us a bigger discount on the replacements, seeing as how we’re keeping him busy.”
“Thanks.” She laid her hand on his chest, over his heart, staring up at him. “I don’t—”
“This isn’t the first time.”
She stepped back as if someone had slapped her. “First time for what?” she asked cautiously.
He moved toward her only to have her moving back. “We had a break-in the first week of work.”
Forget the slap, try a gut check.
“And yet you didn’t tell me about it. Why?” Cherry walked across the room to stare out the open window.
Jason walked up behind her. His breath warmed her neck. “I thought it was bored teens looking to blow off steam. We lost a few tools. No big deal. I took the hit on my account.”
Keeping the robbery from her was no different than lying. Secrets, lies, same thing—both tore relationships apart. She’d bared her soul this past weekend, telling him about her past, something that only Tawny and her family knew, only to find he’d been keeping another secret from her. Just like she was doing in return.
But it was different. Right? Her secret had nothing to do with them.
She turned around to face him. Ignored the feel of his hard chest brushing up against her breasts. “Jason, why would you keep—”
“Cherry, I’m sorry.” He interrupted her. “I meant to tell you. Had planned to tell you when we met that Friday night, but you’d had such a crappy day, I didn’t want to compound the matter, and I was sure it was just bored teens. And Saturday, well, the night didn’t go quite as I think either of us planned. What can I say? I’m a guy. When presented with the possibility of sex, everything else is forgotten.”
A double set of footsteps had them stepping back, expecting Tawny and the guys or the police. The weasel twins—aka Ford and his lackey—walked into the room.
“What are you doing here?” He stepped in front of Cherry and the photographer stepped behind Elmo Ford, turning his body to shield his camera.
The reporter flashed his press badge clipped on the pocket of his dollar-store suit, as if Jason didn’t already know who he was. “Relax, Valentine. Guy named Bobby out front said we could come in. We’re here on the behalf of the citizens of Providence to provide them with an update on their community center. They have a right to see how all the hard-earned money they donated is being spent.”
Cherry saw the moment it hit Ford, when he finally got past his ego and noticed the damage to the center. His little rodent eyes bugged out and he absently smacked his photographer’s shoulder to get the man’s attention. A slimy, I-smell-a-story smile slid across his rat face.
Jason must have also noticed the man’s reaction, as his whole body tensed up in front of her and his hands curled into fists. She needed to act fast. The reporter and his side kick made her stomach threaten to hurl. They didn’t care who they mowed down to get what they wanted, and she was pretty sure if they couldn’t get their goals by legal means they wouldn’t hesitate to employ questionable methods.
Having dealt with more than her fair share of media hounds like these two, she’d learned how to watch out for them and how, on occasion, to turn them to her benefit. If nothing else, she could thank Ari for that.
“Mr. Ford.” Cherry stepped fully around Jason. “I’m glad you’re here. However, as you can see, the story we have to share is a sad one for Providence and not the happy news I’d rather be sharing.”
She reached behind, quickly squeezed Jason’s hand, and hoped he took the hint. It was time for her to use the press to her benefit instead of the other way around.
“Please, Mr. Ford, have your associate take as many pictures as possible, but we’ll need you both to put on safety hats and stay close to us.”
She led them through the building, pointing out the obvious damage and noting the work that had been completed before the vandals had broken in over the weekend. The reporter fell completely under her spell, either from the shock of her talking candidly to him or happiness because Jason wasn’t pounding the two of them into the ground. The interview progressed, with him asking intelligent questions, giving Cherry the opportunity to drive her point home, how much the city needed the center. She brought both men’s attention to the graffiti, the words used, the misspellings, the immature conno
tations . . . clearly the vandals were bored youths. With the center back up and running, these kids would have a place to go, to hang out, to expel all their restless energy and have people they could talk to when they were troubled.
Not once did he bring up Cherry and Jason’s relationship.
Ford and company left with big smiles in place, talking excitedly and promising to come back in a couple weeks to do a follow-up when she was ready for them.
She waved them off and turned to Jason. “Stop scowling, they’re gone.”
“What was that about?” He gestured in the direction of the departing men.
Cherry nestled up next to Jason and tipped her head back. “It’s all about knowing which battles to fight. Knowing when you need to fold and not really join them, but rather use them to your advantage. If we’d done it your way and chased them out of here, can you imagine the story in tomorrow’s paper?”
He returned her hug, holding her tight, yet she could still feel that every muscle in his body was as tense as a steel rod.
“Now the story will be in our favor; we’re the victims and might even pull in a few donations.”
“Don’t trust him or his smarmy partner. Wouldn’t put it past either of them to be the ones behind this mess. This whole thing reeks.” He brushed his lips across her mouth. “Thanks for saving my butt back there.”
“We’re not done with our earlier discussion. No more secrets, Jason. No lies by omission, no forgetting to tell me things or waiting because you think I can’t handle it. If we’re friends, then it’s complete faith and trust. Deal?”
“Deal.”
She understood why he hadn’t told her right away, could even sympathize with his reasoning—this time—and unless she wanted to fight, and she didn’t, she needed to let it go. For now.
They sank into the kiss, slipping back to the ease of the weekend, letting the stress go for a moment. Another pair of heavy footsteps caught their attention.
“Déjà vu. Looks like we’re busted . . . again,” Cherry whispered before stepping away to greet the two Providence police officers.
Chapter Fifteen
The blue sky she’d woken up to had turned to gray, chasing away the sweet song of the sparrow with its rumbling thunder. Moving quickly, Cherry avoided the sudden onslaught of rain as she entered the bank for the emergency board meeting. Gripping the straps of her purse, the sound of her heels echoed down the back hall reminding her of a prisoner’s last walk toward the death chamber.
“Quit the dramatics, Cherry,” she muttered under her breath. It only made sense for the board to come together to discuss the break-in and how they would handle the setback. She’d spent the day mulling over Jason’s statement to the police and kept getting hung up on the fact that there was no forced entry into the place.
As she neared the open door to the boardroom, a voice brought her steps to a halt. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of her palm, and she had to force her jaw to relax before she gave herself an instant headache. Stan.
What is he doing here? He quit.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
Only one way to find out.
She took the last few steps into the room and greeted the five board members for the center and her fellow fund-raising committee members. To Stan Nowak, she simply nodded an acknowledgment before taking her seat. No one made small talk or eye contact; it was like being called to the principal’s office and waiting to see who spilled their guts first.
Mr. North shuffled a few papers and cleared his throat. Apparently he didn’t realize he was the principal in this situation. “Thank you all for making it on such short notice. Before we get into the business at hand, I’d like to announce Stan has agreed to resume his position on the fund-raising committee.”
Three sets of eyes were suddenly on the man speaking. Not Cherry’s—she focused on Stan’s smug expression and wondered what exactly was up. For a group that suddenly needed to raise a whole lot of capital and fast, he appeared a tad too happy.
“Before we begin our discussion in regard to this morning’s unpleasant business, I need to ask you something, Cherry.”
The tone and seriousness of his voice caught her attention. She looked up sharply to meet Mr. North’s sympathetic look. “Of course, anything you need.”
North handed her an envelope. Cherry glanced at Tawny, who in turn gave her a small headshake. Well, this really can’t be good. North confides in Tawny about everything. Slowly she slid out the single picture. Her breath caught in her throat and her stomach hit bottom. The photographer had captured the moment Jason’s lips met hers the previous morning in the ravaged building. Actually, it was quite good and she thought she’d keep it, maybe frame it and put it on her nightstand.
She steeled her nerves and looked up. “What exactly are you asking, Mr. North?”
“Are you and Mr. Valentine involved?”
Seriously? Did he think she went around kissing every man she knew? “Mr. North, I respect you and the other board members, but I’d like to remind you that my involvement in the center project is as a volunteer. As such, what I do in my personal life is of no concern to anyone in this room.”
He coughed into his hand, shooting Stan a dirty look. “My apologies. Let me rephrase my question. Were you and Mr. Valentine involved before the contract was awarded?”
Cherry faced Stan. After all, she knew where the accusation came from. “No.”
North clapped his hands, looked around the room, and smiled. “Good, just as I suspected. Now, let’s discuss yesterday. First, thank you, Cherry and Tawny, for taking care of everything with the police. It’ll be a couple of days before I can get an official copy of the report for the insurance company.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking over the group. “Based on my discussions with them, it doesn’t look good.”
“Spit it out, Edward. Some of us would like to get home to our families,” Marlene Ulrich, the VP of the board, said.
“They’re probably not going to pay.” All of the air deflated out of the big man. “The adjuster is claiming neglect, faulting the contractor.”
“What?” Tawny and Cherry asked in unison.
“How is it Mr. Valentine’s error that vandals broke in and destroyed the place?” Holly’s question was exactly what Cherry wanted to know.
“The police stated there were no signs of forced entry, and more than likely one of Mr. Valentine’s crew forgot to lock up on Friday.”
So far the other board members—Carl Jogerst, Lorelei Farago, and Sally Hart—had remained quiet. Cherry peeked from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge their mood. All were stone-faced and scowling. Not good at all.
Rosalie stood. “I believe the statement says Mr. Valentine asked his crew, and they swore they locked up on Friday. Is it possible the intruders came through a window? Several were broken.”
The backing of her committee warmed her heart. Knowing they stood with her and Jason gave her strength, and she had a feeling she would need it.
Stan snorted in disgust. “Rosalie, if the window had been broken from the outside like you’re suggesting, all of the glass would be inside the building, not outside. The police know what to look for. Face it. His crew lied. Or they did it themselves.”
Cherry leaned forward, ready to pounce on the arrogant man, when Tawny put her hand on her leg, holding her in place.
“Stan, pray tell, why would Jason’s crew destroy all their hard work?” Tawny swiveled her chair around to face Stan. She didn’t raise her voice or let sarcasm slip in. Instead she hinted at a bit of confusion, drawing the unsuspecting man into her trap.
“Isn’t it obvious? To create more work. To get paid more. He’s got no other prospects lined up. Once he’s done with the center, that’s it, the kitty’s dry until he can scam another company into hiring him. He’s stretching this job out.” Stan sat with his hands folded on the table in front of him like a proud little boy who’d recited all of his times tables correctly. A
smile on his face, he looked at everyone around, possibly waiting for someone to agree with him.
“Stan, I find it hard to believe Mr. Valentine or his crew perpetrated this crime to lengthen the assignment,” Mr. North interjected, tapping his fingers on the pile of papers. “While they have made fine progress and your committee members have verified the work on a weekly basis, they were far from being finished.”
Stan leered at Cherry. “Who’s been verifying his work? His girlfriend?”
“The work has been verified by multiple members. Regardless, the point of today’s meeting is to discuss our options if the insurance company does not pay,” Mr. North said.
“Can we arrange another dinner?” Mr. Jogerst asked. “Perhaps a different kind of auction, one with donated products and services from local businesses? Or instead of a dinner, we can charge a reasonable admission fee and target a different income bracket. If we offered a grand prize of a tropical getaway, with the stipulation you must be present to win, I’m sure that would bring in a lot of people, especially if we had entertainment.”
It could work. As far as ideas went, it didn’t suck. It was hard to get excited about another major project. She was ready to begin the next chapter of her life. Not to mention, a master’s program took up a lot of time. If they had to start over, she’d have to give something up: school, sleep, or her sanity.
“It took a year to plan the last one,” Cherry said quietly, not really caring if he heard her or not. They’d worked so hard, all of them, only to have their entire team draw the do-not-pass-Go, do-not-collect-$200 card at one time. No matter which option they chose, they would never have enough time to get the repairs done before the summer session. When school let out, the kids would have no place to go.
The moment she’d been waiting for since walking through the boardroom doors arrived when Stan stood, cleared his throat, and looked everywhere but at her. “There is another option. I spoke with the owner of RI Builders this afternoon, explained the predicament we’ve found ourselves in. He’s willing to cut twenty-five percent off the price he quoted us from his profit and promises to get the job done on the original finish date.”
Bachelorette for Sale Page 17
