He just hoped it didn’t take too long. While they hadn’t shown any of their own money, they’d eaten and drunk enough to just about wipe out Jake’s personal account.
“It was promising,” he told her. Some people liked to sleep on a big decision. He understood.
And it wasn’t as if he needed their money to survive. He had other investments that his father had made in his name before he was old enough to know what investments were. Rachel did, too, but unlike her, Jake had never touched his, preferring to make his own way. And he made a good wage working at the station.
He’d briefly considered using that money to back the show if these investors didn’t pan out, but decided against it. Maybe he’d have felt differently if he hadn’t followed in his father’s footsteps. Even at the start of his career, when he hadn’t minded being known as Chuck Durham’s son, there had been a stubborn part of him that didn’t want anyone saying he’d made it because of his father’s money. So it sat in an account back in Toronto, untouched and unused.
“Rob and I had breakfast with Mom and Dad this morning.” She paused and Jake felt his shoulders tense. “I might have made a tiny mention of your meeting.”
“Rachel. I told you that in confidence. You promised you wouldn’t say anything.”
“I know, I know. It slipped out. I was excited for you. I didn’t mean to go behind your back and I’m sorry.”
“Great. So what did he say and how soon can I expect a call from him?”
“I made Dad promise not to call, so you’re welcome.”
“Yeah, thanks for blabbing and causing the issue in the first place.”
“Caught that part, did you? Anyway, that isn’t why I’m bringing it up. Dad mentioned that you should be careful with these investors. He said they’ve had meetings with other people, as well.”
“Oh?” Jake tried to swallow the disappointment that rose on his tongue. It tasted like old coffee.
“Yeah, a month ago. Dad said those meetings didn’t go anywhere. That these guys just enjoyed a lot of food and drink and moved on. He’s worried about you.”
“There’s nothing to worry about.” He could handle this. He ignored the stone that settled in his stomach. “Maybe they just haven’t found the right project.” Investors didn’t jump on every project that caught their notice. They wouldn’t have much money for long if that were the case. “Don’t you think it’s possible that they just hadn’t found the right fit before?”
“Yes, but Dad was pretty insistent. He thinks they’re just making the rounds with no intention of ever putting money forward. He doesn’t want to see you waste your time and cash on them.”
“Dad doesn’t know everything.” He was just used to being surrounded by people who thought he did. Jake sighed. He shouldn’t be taking his frustration out on his sister. “Look, it’s possible and I appreciate you bringing it to my attention, but it was one dinner meeting and everything went very well. Hopefully, they’ll call in a few days to work out a deal.”
“I hope so. I just wanted to tell you. I would never forgive myself if something were to happen and I’d kept the information to myself.”
Jake knew her heart, as always, was in the right place. Didn’t make him feel any better. “I’m sure it’s fine, Rache. You told me about it, so now you can rest easy, okay?”
He acted as if he wasn’t concerned, but the truth was, it bothered him. These had been the only investors he’d heard from that he could be assured weren’t trying to curry favor with his father. Everyone else was an old friend, a former colleague or tied to his father or his father’s company in some way. And how could he prove that he was capable of doing this on his own with all those strings attached?
* * *
JAKE FINALLY GOT THE CHANCE to talk to Ava later that afternoon. He caught her in her office when she got back from her shoot and asked if she’d have dinner with him tonight. She’d agreed with a quick smile that had him forgetting about everything else.
He’d made reservations for eight o’clock at a restaurant renowned for its local fare. Everything on the menu featured regional, seasonal ingredients. Even the wine and beer were local. He’d spoken with the owners a few weeks ago about filming a clip there for his travel show, but hadn’t yet had the chance to test it out firsthand. Seemed fitting now to do so with Ava.
She looked great. Her hair bounced around her face and her lips looked sweet and fresh. When he’d arrived at her apartment to pick her up, he hadn’t been able to resist leaning forward for a taste of them and was pleased when, rather than pulling back to remind him that they needed to be professional or complain that he was going to ruin her gloss, she’d pressed forward to meet him.
“You look amazing.” She was wearing a silky black dress that fluttered and dipped in secret movements that tantalized with hints of skin. But no matter how quickly he looked, he never saw anything more than a brief glimpse before the material settled back into place. He wanted to rip the dress off her. With his teeth.
He contained himself. Barely.
They were seated at a table with a view of the city, the mountains rising behind it, hulking shadows to the city’s twinkling lights. But Jake only had eyes for Ava. “So.”
“So,” she repeated.
He wanted to pull her across the table into his lap and kiss her until she told him to take her to bed or lose her forever. “We still pretending that kiss never happened?”
A pretty flush rose to her cheeks. “Is that what you want?”
He leveled her with a stare. “What do you think?” All she had to do was look at the way his body was straining toward her to know the answer.
“I think you’re avoiding the question.”
They were interrupted by the waiter returning with the bottle of sparkling water they’d ordered. The man poured them each a glass.
Jake waited until he’d stepped away to answer Ava’s challenge. “No, that’s not what I want.” The pink in her cheeks deepened, but she didn’t say anything. He waited. She sipped her water. “And?” he finally prompted.
“And what?”
He reached across the table, plucked the glass out of her fingers and set it to the side of the table. “What do you want?”
“My water.”
He moved it farther out of reach. “Wrong answer.”
“Jake.”
“Ava.” He studied her. It was obvious to him that they both wanted the same thing. “In case you’re wondering, the correct answer is me.”
She laughed, a bright warble that lightened his spirits.
He smiled back as the tension in his shoulders eased. “Great. So we’re clear.” He pushed her glass back to her.
She took a small sip. “Is that what you want?”
“I’m not against it.” He saw the disappointment flash in her eyes and pushed his own glass to the side so he could lean closer to her. “Yes, that’s what I want. This—whatever is happening here—isn’t going away.” He gave her a chance to take that in. “And I don’t want it to.”
Her smile was slow, sexy. “Me, neither.”
Jake had to take a deep breath before he really did haul her onto his lap and see exactly how that dress tasted.
“But.”
He looked at her, his mouth suddenly dry.
“But we still work together.”
He smiled, reaching out to wrap his fingers around hers. “You know my contract is up in six weeks. I’m not signing an extension, so we won’t
be colleagues any longer.”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to insist on keeping things platonic until then.” He could not be held responsible for what happened afterward if she tried to insist upon that.
“No.” She untangled their fingers and reached for her glass again. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to jump into bed with you right away, either.” She studied him over the rim and then took a sip. “We still work together, and I’d prefer we keep things quiet at the office. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. I don’t want people to think I’m sleeping my way into a job.”
He could respect that. “Done. We keep it quiet at the office.”
Her insistence on keeping their career separate from their personal relationship struck a chord in him. She was here because she liked him. Just him. He put his hand out, palm up, waiting for her.
“And there’s no one else.”
Jake almost laughed that she thought he had time for anyone else, but the look on her face was so solemn that he knew she wouldn’t find the idea humorous. “Definitely not.”
“Then I guess we’re clear,” she said. She moved her hand toward his and then stopped. “Unless there’s something else?”
“No.” He reached up to capture her fingers again. There was nothing else. No one else.
Jake smiled and brought her palm to his lips. “I think I’ve got everything I want.” Or pretty darn close.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AVA PICKED JILLY UP IN A CAB before heading over to her mother’s house for their biweekly Sunday dinner. Jilly often joined them, and today Ava found herself looking forward to the dinner more than usual, if only because it would give her a break from thinking about Jake and appropriate office behavior for a few hours.
The light blue siding and white shutters of the house her mother had bought when Ava was ten looked cheerful even against the frozen grass and bare trees. It would only be a couple of months before they would both burst to life. The grass would become lush and green, the branches growing thick and heavy with the delicate pink of cherry blossoms. And the house would look pretty as a picture. Just like her mother standing in the doorway in a pale blue dress shirt and linen trousers that looked neat and stylish.
“Hi, Mom.” Ava hugged her mother in greeting, inhaling the scent of Joie. It was her mother’s signature scent and always made her feel better. Tension she hadn’t known she’d been carrying rolled out of her shoulders. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, dear.” Her mother hugged back briefly and then let go. “You look tired.” She peered into Ava’s face and reached up to smooth away a line between Ava’s eyes. “Don’t do that, you’ll get wrinkles. Not good for your career.”
“I don’t see why,” Ava said, even as she relaxed the muscles in her forehead. She began to shrug out of her coat. “Why is it that men are allowed to get wrinkled and become distinguished-looking, but women are supposed to look twenty forever?”
“If I knew that, dear, I’d be running the world instead of just the hospital.” Her mother turned to greet Jilly. “Nice to see you, Jillian. How have you been?”
“Great. How are you, Barbara? You look well.”
It was true, Ava thought. Her mother had always been an attractive woman, petite and blonde with the wide blue eyes that Ava had inherited. Her hair was cut into a smooth bob that was never out of place and she wore perfectly tailored clothing that showed off the slender figure she’d maintained since she was a teenager. But there was a glow about her today. New face-cleaning regimen?
“Thank you, Jillian. I am well. I like your hair.”
Ava smiled. Her mother would have a coronary if she ever dyed her hair pink, but Jilly was appraised by a different set of standards. It was fine with Ava, since she never intended to dye her hair pink. She didn’t think she could pull off cotton-candy anything. Not even lipstick.
Ava hung up their coats and then joined her mom and friend in the formal living room. It was furnished with long, overstuffed couches and a pair of high-backed chairs. Despite the cool colors of platinum and ice-blue, the room felt comfortable with her mother’s homey touches. The silver frames on the walls displayed black-and-white photos of Ava growing up, the white fireplace mantel held fat, flickering candles and the pale gray rug was so cushiony and soft that Ava couldn’t resist curling her toes into it.
They reconvened there after dinner. It had been a lovely evening. General chitchat about what was happening in the world—her mother was a bit of a news junkie—and an update on her uncle Dennis and aunt Yolanda, who lived in Calgary and were coming for a visit in the summer. They’d lived nearby until Ava was seventeen, her mother’s brother filling in as a surrogate father since her own had died before she was born, and she was looking forward to seeing them. They hadn’t made it out for Christmas this year and Ava had missed them.
She sank back into the couch. This was exactly what she’d needed after a stressful couple of weeks. No drama, no tension and no discussion of work.
“Ava.” Her mother turned to her with an assessing gaze. “How’s work?”
She tried not to sigh. “It’s fine, Mom.” Maybe if she didn’t create an opening, her mother would let the subject drop.
“And what is going on with this new producer of yours—Jake?”
Or not.
“You seemed very friendly when I called last week.”
Ava, in the midst of sipping her water, choked. She covered her mouth, coughing. “Went down the wrong way,” she said in response to the questioning looks turned her way.
Her mother frowned when she coughed again. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” Ava sucked in a few breaths and a few more sips of water.
“Don’t drink so fast, Ava. It isn’t ladylike, and it’s probably why you choked.”
She could see Jilly pressing her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh. Some friend. “I wasn’t drinking it fast. You just surprised me.” Right. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the mere mention of Jake made naughty fantasies fill her head. Nothing at all. “I’m probably tired.” She forced her eyes to remain on her mother’s, but felt her fingers tightening around the glass.
Barbara studied her and then nodded, accepting the answer. “Is it your arm? Have you not been sleeping well?”
“My wrist is fine. But the festival was busy and I’m still recovering.”
“Things went well?” She waited until Ava nodded. “Did you make that list like I told you?”
“Yes, Mom,” Ava lied because it was easier. “And you were right—” her mother loved to hear she was right “—it helped a lot.”
“That is wonderful.” Her mother’s smile could have charmed Simon Cowell. “You see? When you put your mind to it and make a plan, things have a way of working out.”
Ava merely nodded. Her mother would not be impressed to hear that she was letting things flow without a plan. But Barbara refused to acknowledge that Ava’s life had taken a turn for the better once she’d stopped creating lists to control it. The job at the station had fallen into her lap, she’d met a nice guy and dated him for a couple of years—although it hadn’t worked out, they had parted amicably—and she’d been happier. So much happier.
“How is work, Mom?” Since Barbara loved to talk about her work, the subject change was a success. Ava smiled into her glass as Jilly made a wiping motion over her brow. Ph
ew, indeed.
Her mother told them about some new policies that had recently been implemented at the hospital and that her longtime assistant was retiring. “I’m sad to lose him. He knew the value of a job well done. Do either of you know anyone who might be a good fit?”
“Someone who wants to work twelve-hour days?” Ava joked. “No.”
Her mother pinned her with a look. “Roger worked eight hours a day as scheduled. Occasionally, he was expected to take notes at evening board meetings, but that duty was shared with the other office assistants and that time was always counted as part of his forty-hour workweek.”
“I know, Mom. I was only teasing.” It was her mother who put in the sixty-hour weeks. Had as long as Ava could remember. In the beginning, Barbara hadn’t had much choice—not if she wanted to get to the top of her profession—but she’d reached that pinnacle years ago and she still worked those hours. Ava had watched as any sort of social life slipped away and eventually determined that her mother just wasn’t interested in one.
It wasn’t the kind of life she wanted for herself.
“You should take your job more seriously, Ava. I know you enjoy making fun of me, but you could learn a thing or two. I was one of the first female administrators hired by the hospital and I worked very hard to earn my position.”
“I wasn’t making fun of you,” Ava insisted, “and I know you work hard. But you don’t always seem to enjoy it.” Sometimes, it looked like a never-ending battle to stay on top or climb the next rung of the corporate ladder. And Ava was expected to do the same.
“I enjoy my work.”
Jilly cleared her throat, breaking the stare down between mother and daughter. “I might know someone. I’ll ask and get back to you.”
“Thank you, Jillian. That would be very much appreciated since my daughter thinks that I’m impossible to work for.”
That Weekend... Page 15
