They looked up expectantly as she pushed open the door.
"I'm sorry," she said.
Melanie frowned. "You didn't see him?"
"Damn." Robert shook his head in frustration. "We need that man. We'll have to try something else. I found out last night that he goes to the Royal Athletic Club every morning between six and eight o'clock. That might be a good spot to get to him."
"I don't think so," Julie replied.
Robert looked at her in surprise. "You're not giving up, are you? This is too important to quit on, Julie."
"I did see Matt Kingsley." She took a deep breath. "I spoke to him. He said no, and then—then I insulted him."
"You didn't," Melanie breathed.
"I'm afraid so."
"What exactly do you mean—you insulted him?" Robert asked.
"I asked him to participate in the fundraiser, and he said no. Then I got angry. He wouldn't even give me a chance to explain, to tell him what we're all about."
Melanie looked at her in amazement. "What did you say? I don't know how you had the nerve to insult someone like that."
"He's just a man, and not a very nice one. I'm sorry that I let you guys down. But I honestly don't think there's anything I could have said that would have made him participate. His mind was made up before I ever opened my mouth. I didn't insult him until after he said no."
The receptionist buzzed the phone to tell Robert that one of the board members was on the phone.
He sighed when he heard the name. "The last thing I want to do is tell Emily Davenport that we failed on getting Matt Kingsley. Her husband is a season ticket holder and one of their biggest fans."
"Maybe we can get some of the other Cougars," Melanie suggested.
"Matt Kingsley is the Cougars. The rest of the guys look like amateurs next to him." Robert got to his feet. "I'm not giving up on Kingsley yet. There must be a way to change his mind. Think about it."
Julie nodded, even though she knew that she could think about it forever, and there was nothing she could do to change things. She sat down as Robert left the room. "I really blew this one, Mel. I should have handled his refusal better, tried to charm him into finding out more about us."
"Well, at least you actually spoke to him. That's better than Robert or I did. What did he look like, anyway? Was he as sexy and attractive as his posters?"
"He was," she admitted. "I just wish he had more compassion, more sensitivity to go with that face and body." Her voice hardened. "But the man has only one thing on his mind and that's baseball."
"Maybe that's why he's the best."
"I suppose. I'll call the Cougars again and see if any other players are available. But I think we need to come up with some other ideas." She made her way back to her office and dove into work. It focused her brain on what was important and kept the emotions at bay.
She worked into the evening, barely noticing when Melanie stopped in to say goodbye. It was only when a knock came at her door that she realized the office had grown dark. She switched on her desk lamp, the light outlining a shadowy figure behind the glass panel. She was completely alone in the office. Her nerves tingled as the knock came again, and then the door slowly opened.
Chapter Two
"Julie Michaels." Matt Kingsley said her name with satisfaction, savoring her look of surprise. It had taken him some effort to track her down, time he really didn't have to waste, but after their encounter at the ballpark, he hadn't been able to put her out of his mind.
She was prettier than he remembered, her eyes a beautiful sky blue framed by dark lashes, her blonde hair swirling around her shoulders in silky waves, her form fitting skirt and silky top clinging to some very nice curves. She was definitely not a groupie.
Julie rose to her feet, her eyes wary. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you." He walked into the room and moved a stack of folders off the chair in front of her desk. "Do you mind?"
She shook her head. "No, please sit down."
"It took me a while to find you," he said as she sat down behind her desk. "I couldn't remember the name of your organization, but when I asked at the Cougars' front office if they knew anything about you, they gave me this address."
"I—I honestly don't know what to say. I thought you'd made your decision clear earlier."
"I thought so, too. But then I had second thoughts." He glanced around her tiny office. It was typical of a small nonprofit organization. There were stacks of banners and posters in one corner, a desk overflowing with paperwork, and T-shirts for an upcoming walkathon piled on top of a filing cabinet. "Looks like you have a lot of events going on."
"Always. It's how we raise money." She paused. "Why are you here?" she asked, fiddling with her ballpoint pen.
As he gazed at her, he felt a little entranced by the way her golden hair caught the light from her desk lamp, almost like a halo for an angel—a wary, pissed off angel.
He leaned forward and picked up one of the photographs on her desk. It was a photo of a group of young teenagers in matching California Children's Foundation shirts. "Who are these kids?"
"They're a mix of kids who have been homeless, are in foster care, or are being raised by single parents with very low income. Their circumstances are helped by the services at Baycrest House, which the Foundation supports. They have after school programs, tutoring, meals, showers, places to sleep, and although they try to help the whole family, their focus is on the children who may slip through the cracks. Those particular kids are doing really well in school now, and they've become mentors for the younger children. They also do volunteer jobs here at the Foundation. They're really great."
Her voice warmed and her eyes softened as she spoke of the kids, and he was beginning to see just how passionate she was about her job and also how personal her job was to her. She wasn't just about raising money and asking for things; she really cared. And it had been a while since he'd met anyone who cared about the bigger picture of the world. He liked that. He also felt even guiltier now for how he'd shut her down earlier.
"I can give you a brochure on that program and others that we fund," Julie said. "If you're interested."
"Sure," he said. "But I doubt the brochure will bring the program alive the way you just did."
"I wrote most of it, so hopefully it will." She paused, her lips tightening as she drew in a breath. "You said you had second thoughts. What does that mean?"
"I want to apologize."
Her eyebrows shot up in amazement. "Seriously?"
"Yes. We got our signals crossed earlier. I've been swamped with business demands the last few days and trips back and forth across the country. I got off a plane this morning at eleven and had a poor batting practice right before I talked to you. When you caught up with me, I wasn't in the best mood. It's not an excuse, but I hope it gives my actions some context."
"It does," she said slowly. "And I really appreciate you taking the time to apologize. I'm sorry, too, for what I said. I had no right to yell at you because you said no. You certainly don't have to participate in our event. I know you must have a lot of demands on your time."
"I do. So tell me about this event you want me to participate in."
"It's a celebrity cook-off that will be used specifically to provide another year of funding for Baycrest House as well as two other afterschool programs for kids in need. If we somehow manage to go over our target goal, we're also hoping to buy some new medical equipment for a pediatric urgent care center that was recently set up in the Tenderloin to serve kids who don't have good access to healthcare."
"All right, I'm sold," he said lightly.
"Really? Does that mean you're going to help us out?"
He nodded. "What do I need to do?"
"We'd like you to be a chef in our Celebrity Cook-Off a week from Saturday at the Ambassador Hotel. We'll have a dozen celebrities cooking and then putting their dishes in front of a panel of celebrity judges, but you would be the star. It's
not a huge commitment of time."
"I'll do it," he said. "But I want to know something first."
"What's that?"
"When we met earlier, when I said no, you said you hated baseball players, hated people like me."
She paled at his words. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."
"That's an apology, not an explanation."
"I was just overstating an opinion."
"What happened? Did some baseball player screw you over?"
She hesitated, as if debating whether she wanted to answer his question. "You could say that, yes."
"We're not all the same, you know."
"I haven't seen much evidence to support that opinion."
"Who was the player? Is he still in the game?"
"Why don't we talk more about the cook-off?"
"We'll get to the details. You tarred me with the brush of some other guy, and I want to know who it was."
Her jaw tightened. "You heard my last name, right?"
Her question set him back, and he had to think for a moment. "Michaels?"
"Ring a bell?"
Their gazes met, clung together.
Anger burned in her eyes along with what looked like pain.
"Are you talking about Jack Michaels?" he asked slowly.
"Yes. Jack is my father."
He felt like she'd punched him in the stomach. "You're Jack Michaels' kid?"
"I guess you know him then."
"I do—really well. Jack was a mentor to me when I first came up from the minors. It was his last season in the league. He was forty-one years old, and he pitched a no-hitter in the playoffs. It was one of the most amazing feats I'd ever seen." He shook his head, thinking back to that day ten years ago. He'd been a nineteen-year-old rookie and Jack had seemed like a God to him, to everyone on the team. "Did you see that game?"
"No, my father had left my mother and me that year, so we weren't going to his games. I'm sure his twenty-two-year-old girlfriend was in the stands."
Now he knew where the anger and pain came from. "I'm sorry. I guess I knew Jack was divorced, but I didn't know the circumstances."
She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Let's talk about the cook-off."
"All right. There is one small problem."
"What's that?"
"I don't know how to cook."
A frown drew her brows together. "You must know how to cook something—spaghetti, chicken, steak?"
"No, no and no."
She gave him a disbelieving look. "Are you sure you're not just looking for another way out?"
"I came all the way over here to find you. Would I really be looking for an escape route now?" Actually, he should be looking for an escape route, because the beautiful Julie with her golden hair, blue eyes, sexy curves and deeply ingrained hatred of ballplayers was presenting an intriguing challenge, a challenge he really should stay the hell away from, especially now that he knew she was Jack Michaels' daughter.
"You tell me," she returned.
"I'm in, but I can't cook, so is there something else I could do?"
"No, each celebrity will cook their meal in a unique kitchen area, specifically designed for that celebrity by volunteer interior designers. If you're going to participate, they'll create a kitchen for you with probably a baseball theme or you can certainly have input if you like, but we're running a little short on time."
"Why is that?" he asked curiously. "I usually get invitations months in advance. Someone dropped out, didn't they?"
"Yes," she admitted. "Otherwise, we do prefer to give as much notice as possible."
"So I'm your second choice."
"You're a star, Mr. Kingsley. You would always be everyone's first choice, but you're not easy to get to. Other celebrities like these opportunities to create an aura of generosity."
He liked her candid response. One thing about Julie Michaels—she was not a bull-shitter.
"We were working with Kevin Markham," she continued. "I don't know if you're familiar with him."
"Action hero? Yeah, I know his work."
"He just went into rehab, so we need to replace him."
"Okay, then I can only see one solution to the problem. You'll have to teach me how to cook in the next ten days."
She immediately shook her head. "I don't think so."
"You don't know how to cook?"
"I do, but I can't teach you."
"Why not?"
"Because I have a job that takes up all my days and quite frankly a lot of my nights, especially before big events."
"I'm busy, too. We're talking about one meal. If you can't teach me something I can make, then I can't participate. I'm not going to embarrass myself."
"I'm sure you could hire a chef to give you a lesson."
He could hire a chef, and that would probably be a smarter move, but right now all he could think about was locking down a date with Julie Michaels, and he knew she wasn't going to willingly spend time with him unless she was getting something out of it.
"I'm not interested in hiring someone. That's going to take effort and time. So here's the deal—you give me one cooking lesson, and I'm yours for the cook-off. What do you say?"
She had no choice, and they both knew it.
"Fine," she said with a sigh. "What night?"
"How about tomorrow? Friday night? Or do you have a date?" It occurred to him that he didn't even know if Julie was single, although there was no ring on her finger.
"I can make tomorrow," she said slowly.
"Great. What are we going to make?"
"I won't make anything—you will. I'm just going to be advising." Julie paused. "What do you like to eat?"
"Anything and everything. I'm not picky."
"I'll look through some recipes and pick something that isn't too hard and that will be easy for the hotel kitchen to recreate for all the guests. While your entry will go to the panel of judges, everyone in the room will be tasting the same dishes prepared by the hotel chefs. We'll need to change the recipe to give it a more personal Matt Kingsley spin, but that should work. Do you like hot and spicy?"
He smiled at the question. "Hot, sweet, spicy, sexy…it's all good."
Her cheeks warmed at his words. "You're a troublemaker, aren't you?"
"I've been called worse. Give me your number, and I'll text you my address. If I'm going to learn to cook, it might as well be in my own kitchen."
"Where do you live?"
"I have a condo near the ballpark at Brandon and Second."
She nodded. "There's a supermarket not far from there. I'll meet you there at six-thirty tomorrow night, and we can buy the ingredients together."
"Shopping and cooking?" he asked doubtfully, suddenly wondering what he'd gotten himself into.
"They do go together," she said with a smile as she got to her feet. "You're quite spoiled, aren't you?"
He stood up. "It's been a good decade," he admitted. "But my mother would be horrified to think I was spoiled."
"Really? Even though she never taught you how to cook?"
"She worked two jobs when I was growing up. She didn't have time to cook or to teach me how to do it," he said, remembering the long days when he'd waited for her to come home, only to have to see her rush out the door again for a second job late in the night. He'd made a promise to himself when he was very young that someday he would find a way to make sure she didn't have to work that hard.
"Sorry," Julie said, guilt in her eyes. "I seem to be really judgmental when it comes to you."
"To me? Or to everyone?" he couldn't help asking.
"You seem to have brought out the worst in me, but it's not really you, it's what you do for a living. However, I do want to thank you for agreeing to participate in the cook-off. Your support at this event will make a huge difference. Let me show you out."
She walked him down the hall, past the darkened conference room and empty cubicles.
"You're closing down this place," he commented.
"I have a few things to finish up. When you work for a non-profit, you do what has to be done, no matter how long it takes."
"I can see that you're a hard worker."
"I don’t know any other way to work," she replied.
He smiled. "You might be surprised to know it's exactly the same for me." He paused at the door. "Goodnight Julie Michaels. See you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," she muttered, then shut the door behind him.
* * *
Julie leaned against the door and let out a breath. She still couldn't quite believe Matt Kingsley had tracked her down, that he'd agreed to participate in the cook-off, and most importantly that she'd somehow been talked into giving him a cooking lesson at his home. What a crazy turn of events. She hadn't thought she'd ever see him again after the way things had ended in the parking lot, but Matt had surprised her with an apology.
She almost wished he hadn't come to find her, because seeing him tonight had sent some ridiculous nervous shivers down her spine, and while he'd been talking to her, she'd found herself thinking about his mouth, his lips, and the way his tongue had slid against the seam of her lips during their unexpected kiss.
He was a ballplayer, and she hated ballplayers, she reminded herself.
But Matt was turning out to be not that easy to hate. He was charming her, and she was letting his good looks and sexy smile get to her. That was just part of the game, she told herself. Of course, he knew how to get a woman to like him. Charm was part of the celebrity sports star package. But she knew what happened after all that. She'd seen her mother go through it, and the last thing she needed to do was follow her mother down that same path.
So she'd give Matt a cooking lesson and that would be that. He'd honor his commitment, and in a few weeks, she'd never have to see him again.
She made her way back to her office and had barely sat back down at her desk when her phone buzzed. Despite her very recent mental pep talk, her stomach turned over at the sight of Matt's name in her text messages.
"Looking forward to tomorrow," he said, his address following the brief message.
Yeah, he was definitely working the attentive angle. She leaned back in her chair with a sigh, feeling way too distracted and restless to keep working.
All Your Loving (Bachelors & Bridesmaids) Page 2
