Chapter Twelve

Kate glanced at the clock. Half past three. She needed caffeine to make it until five, so she went to the break room and brewed a single cup. Strong. Dark. Bitter. A wake-up call.

She set her mug on the side of her desk and picked up a printout of Cash’s earlier e-mail. There were four families on the short list for scholarships. All deserving. Kate wished she could offer tuition to each one, but of course that wasn’t possible.

Cash had passed along the names of several potential candidates, and the grant committee at Stars of Hope would settle on three applicants of promise. Kate liked them all. About fifteen deserving young people—all hoping for financial assistance, and the money to fund only three scholarships. Unless they came up with a windfall, the remainder would have to apply next year.

Her phone rang, and she dug through the papers littering her desk to put her fingers on it. She smiled as she saw the photo ID of the caller.

Cash.

“Hey, handsome,” she answered with a smile and heat rising to her face. Memories of their night together flooded her mind, and she inhaled a deep breath. Oxygen—she needed oxygen.

“For some reason I just can’t get you out of my mind. Could be I’m bewitched. Maybe I need the kiss of a fair maiden to break the spell.”

Kate giggled. “That could be arranged. Know any fair maidens?”

Cash laughed. “Only one. I’m hoping to see her later today. Think that might be possible?”

“Another thing that could be arranged,” she countered. “She might have a magic spell breaker that could be put to good use.”

“I’m counting on it,” he said with an intimate rumble that caused a ripple of anticipation.

Necessary three-sixty.

“By the way, did you get my recommendations?”

“Just going over them now. I don’t know how I’m supposed to make a decision, when they are all wonderfully qualified.”

“Tough one, for sure.” He sighed. “Listen, Suzanna and I were wondering if you would like to have dinner—maybe play a short board game before she turns in for the night. Later, we could go over the files, see if there are three stand-outs you could recommend.”

“I’d appreciate any help you could give, and I’d love to see Suzanna. Tell you what, I’ll bring a big salad and dessert—I made some chocolate chip cookies last night. How does that sound?”

“I can think of something with fewer calories for dessert,” his voice rumbled into her ear.

Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she squirmed at the sudden dampness between her legs. An image of the two of them, coupled in ecstasy, took her breath. The sound of his voice, so low and delicious, his words, so suggestive, made her long for a do-over of the night before.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “So can I.”

“So, it’s a date? Around six okay?”

“Actually, tomorrow would be better. I have dinner with the girls tonight.”

He chuckled in her ear.

“My ears are already burning. I assume from what I observed at Tortilla Joe’s you three are the sharing kind. Should I call the guys for backup?”

She grinned into the phone. “Yeah, we share. No backup required.”

Cash groaned.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be safe—I don’t share details. Not all of them, only the good ones,” she teased.

“Okay, I get the picture. Tomorrow it is, then…think of me tonight. And, Kate? Be gentle,” he cautioned.

“Always,” she answered softly.

She ended the call with heated cheeks and a wildly fluttering heartbeat. Good grief. All she had to do was hear his voice and she was reminded of the way he made her body sing and her heart pound. Like right now. Heat and heartbeats, and something else she didn’t want to examine.

Something that could bring her joy…or break her heart.

Head spinning like a top, she wondered if she was ready for this? For him?

Maybe not. But even as she opened her mind to the possibility of the two of them, in her heart she knew it was too late. Cash was too compelling, too much man to ignore. Truthfully, she didn’t want to. She’d ride the wave as long as it lasted, and take as much as she could for as long as she could. Enjoy him, his daughter, and the hope that she didn’t crash at the edge of the sand in a total wipeout.

A knock on her door interrupted her daydreams.

Sarah, her assistant, stuck her head in. “Special delivery for you.” She appeared concerned. “I don’t think you want them, but I thought I should ask.”

“What?”

Her assistant opened the door wide and brought in another arrangement of white roses. As she approached Kate’s desk with a wry smile, she commented, “I thought we’d heard the last of Clark Burgess. White roses. His trademark, or sign of poor imagination?”

“Both, I’m afraid.” Kate ruefully snorted. “He saw me leaving a restaurant with someone the other day and has been a pest ever since. Phone calls. Flowers. He suffers from the delusional thought that I’d consider taking him back.”

Sarah frowned with pursed lips and an exasperated expression.

Kate waved off further discussion about Clark and his perfidy. “It’s over. He wanted out of my life, and he’s going to stay out of my life. Please make arrangements to send any further flower deliveries from Mr. Burgess to the Veterans Hospital. I’m sure they can make good use of them.”

“My pleasure.” Sarah closed the door behind her.

Real work claimed her attention, including the several files on her desk. As was her habit, she focused on a power-point presentation and noted the need for copies for the board.

All were qualified candidates. It killed her to makes these types of decisions.

If she had unlimited funds, she’d award a full ride for the winner and partial scholarships to in-state universities to the students at the bottom of the list. That was a very big “if.”

The remaining kids were highly qualified, and neck-and-neck as far as grades, activities, and community service. Their files contained letters of recommendation from teachers and coaches—all highly complimentary. The deciding factor would have to be the families’ circumstances and needs.

Kate lost track of time as she read the stories of the students and their families. Taylor Carpenter. Eighteen years old, with a four-point-two GPA. Advanced placement classes. She’d worked a hundred and fifty hours in community service at the VA, played soccer on her high school varsity team, listed the Junior Red Cross and Art Club as extracurricular activities. Course of study—psychology with the intention of earning her doctorate and counseling vets. Mother, high school math teacher. Father, Gordon, injured in Iraqi Freedom, quadriplegic.

God, the price we ask men to pay for freedom. She’d want to interview this girl.

Carolina Vaquero. Same age—in fact, all four of the top applicants were eighteen years old. Four-point-one GPA. High school offered dual enrollment. A big plus for the student, and for Stars of Hope. She’d graduate high school with an Associate’s Degree, ready to begin classes in her major, Elementary Education. Completed mandatory community service, held down a part-time job after school, sang in the school chorus, was on the cheer squad, and editor of the school newspaper. Smart girl. Mother, Selena, stay-at-home mom. Two siblings also in high school. Dad, Cordero, lost right arm and leg above the knee in Iraq. Explosion—the only one of his unit to survive. Living on disability—barely surviving would be more like it.

Another hero struggling through sacrifice. Definitely worth consideration.

She felt a pull at her heartstrings. How was she ever going to decide?

Then there was one of Cash’s recommendations. Todd Burnham. Same GPA, a hundred fifty volunteer hours, captain of the football team and president of Future Business Leaders of America. Mother, Celia, working in retail at a local high-end clothier. Father, Todd Sr. Again, on disability. Traumatic Brain Injury. Challenges with cognitive functioning and anger. The kid would be on his own paying for school. Tough life.

She hated that these men who had given so much still suffered so greatly, and their families along with them.

The last young man was James Turner. Four-point GPA. Forward on the basketball team, more than enough volunteer hours, father lost both arms and legs in Afghanistan and was now deceased, leaving four sisters and James to care for his mother in the end stages of… Oh, no.

Cancer.

Kate froze. Bile clogged her throat, and she swallowed the gut reaction to the mere mention of the word.

She could hear the word, write it, see it—didn’t matter. Always this…a fist to the gut. Her personal enemy. The family lost their dad last year, and now faced losing their mother. No doubt James would feel compelled to help raise his sisters. How would he complete college? How could he? She hated to think of another promising life wasted by missing out on an education. Potential obscured by necessity. She couldn’t let that happen—no way.

She earmarked his file. This young man needed more than tuition for school; he needed all the help he could get. She’d call her contact at the American Cancer Society. See what options were available to the Turners.

Leaning back in her chair with a burdened sigh, Kate closed her eyes as the pictures of the young people in their files ran like a slide show behind her lids. She had to remain objective. If she couldn’t, this project would eat her alive. Every one of these students were qualified and deserving. She’d meet with accounting, go over the financials. See the net dollars remaining after expenses.

Cash had said something about a small, exclusive event for big dollars. She’d pick his brain for what he had in mind. There was money to be found in this city. Money and generous people. If benefactors knew the degree of need…if people were more aware of veterans—of their sacrifices, their circumstances—and were willing to dig deep if the cause was just. The name of the game was to convince potential donors. And get these kids into college.

Kate called Cash at the VA, fingers crossed that he hadn’t yet left. “Hey. You busy?”

“Never for you, lady. What can I do you for?”

“I know we agreed to discuss this tomorrow night at dinner, but I just had a thought. I’ve been over the files for the scholarships. Four good, potential candidates. Thing is—I want to offer all four a full ride. To do that, we’re going to need more money. I’ve been thinking of our conversation about a small get-together—movers and shakers with deep pockets. You said you might know of someone who would be a draw?”

She could envision his grin from the happy sound of his voice. “Sure do. My friend Allison Chandler. She’s the one who plays piano so magnificently. The one you pretend not to listen to in the middle of the night.”

“The Chopin? The Beethoven?”

“One and the same. I spoke with her over the weekend and mentioned your foundation. She has a lot of experience with that sort of thing—she and her husband fund Brett’s House in Birmingham, Alabama. Heard of it?”

“No. But her music speaks for itself. Do you think she would help us out?” Kate asked.

“Not over the Fourth of July. She’s already booked, but she suggested a fall-back date the middle of April,” he replied.

“You know, that sounds perfect. If she could schedule a performance Saturday, April twenty-third, I could tabulate the proceeds and start notifying the students. By that time, they should know if the college of their choice is offering scholarship money, and we can subsidize the balance. If you’ll contact Allison, I’ll follow up with an e-mail and begin arranging the venue, decorations, catering, and everything else. Will she need an orchestra?”

“Depends on the program. Do you want an evening, or an hour with dinner and dancing to follow? What do you think?”

“I think you’re a fabulous dancer, and you love it. Therefore, in honor of your helping to secure one of the foremost musicians in the country to perform for zillions of dollars a plate, we’ll toss you a bone. My guess is that our local artists will jump at the chance to meet and perform with Ms. Chandler. A performance, then dinner and dancing it is.”

“That’s the least you can do for zillions of dollars. I’ll call her right away and let you know. Get busy on your end, and we can meet to finalize. Say midnight, if you’re home, that is. Balcony east? A nightcap and…dessert?” Cash hinted.

Oh, boy. Her tummy clenched, and heat pooled between her legs at the thought of what he might consider his favorite dessert.

“We were going to have dinner tomorrow night.”

“That’s a given. If you like, tonight can be just dessert. A perfect end to a busy day. Meet me, Kate. I need to hold you.”

His comment took her breath away.

“Then, yes. I’ve been watching my calories like a good girl. I think I could enjoy dessert tonight.”

He laughed and lowered his voice. “That’s my girl. Later, lady.”

“Lat—”

A knock at the door interrupted her. “Hold on—someone’s here.”

She looked up to see a man loitering on the other side of the glass. Who was that? Could it be…The last person she wanted to talk to today or any other day.

“Damn. I’ve got to go. It’s Clark. What on earth could he want? And where’s Sarah?”

“You’re alone?”

“Relax. It’s the middle of the afternoon, and my building isn’t exactly deserted. I’ll see you tonight. Don’t worry.”

As she put down her cell and scooted back her chair, the door to her office opened, and Clark stuck his head in the room. His body soon followed.

As if they’d been apart for only a few hours, he began, “Hey, beautiful. I was in the area and thought I’d stop in to say hello. Having a good day?”

Big smile on his face, not an ounce of trepidation. No apology for showing up unannounced or uninvited. Acting as if nothing had happened between them and it was just another day in the neighborhood. How obtuse could a man be?

“Cash? Clark is here. I’ll see you later.”

“Be careful, Kate. Something tells me this guy isn’t functioning on all cylinders.”

She hung up and laid the cell on her desk as she rose.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, angry but cool and controlled. “We’ve said all there is to say to each other. I thought I made it clear the other day—I never want to see you again.” She glared at her former fiancé, his back leaning against the closed door of her office.

He ignored her animas and made himself comfortable in the chair facing her desk. “No, Kate, you’re wrong. We haven’t said all we need to say. I don’t think you believed me when I said I was sorry for the way I ran out on you. I know it was a shitty thing to do. I don’t know what I was thinking—I guess I got scared. We’d been through so much together. I panicked.”

She pushed off, made her way around the desk, crossed her arms, and sat facing him.

Clark stared at her. Traces of joviality disappeared from his face. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he meant it when he said he still loved her. But this was a lark. She’d learned the hard way he was a man of expediency.

“I knew the minute I walked out the door I’d made a mistake. I would have given you some time, tried to get us back together, long before now, but the company sent me on assignment to Honduras—a new mining operation.”

“Congratulations. I understand the senoritas are especially attractive south of the Equator.”

Though he took her sarcasm in stride, that flash of mean flickered in his cold eyes. He didn’t appreciate her attitude. That she returned his stare without a reaction seemed to throw him.

“There hasn’t been anyone since you, Kate.”

She laughed.

Clark may have been out of the country, but he wasn’t alone for the last year and a half. Gigi had kept tabs on him—knew every move he’d made, and he’d seen two women since breaking up with her. Two. The liar.

Not that she cared.

Suddenly, a huge weight lifted, and freedom took its place. She didn’t care. The hurt she’d carried in her heart was gone.

Kate stared into the handsome face of the man she’d mistakenly thought she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, have a family with, grow old with…and he meant nothing to her. She was free of him. Free of the pain and humiliation, and, thank God, free of the self-doubt his abandonment left behind.

Because of Cash. He had freed her from the chains Clark had used to control her.

“I love you, baby,” he continued earnestly, as if nothing was wrong. “What we had—I want it back. Seeing you again made me realize how much I missed you—missed us. Please, baby, please give me another chance.”

Time, pain, and objectivity allowed her to see right through him. Had he always been this arrogant? This shallow?

Probably.

She gazed over his shoulder as he spoke, hearing his meaningless pleas without listening. The image of Cash’s wry smile, the sparkle in his deep blue eyes, the expression of tenderness when he listened to his daughter, the feel of his arms holding her, his body covering her. Those were the images that caught and kept her attention. The only man she was interested in giving a chance to or taking a chance with was Cash Montgomery. There was no comparison between Clark and him. None.

“You’re not paying attention, Kate,” Clark uttered sharply, stepping into her space, his hand reaching toward her. “We could be so good together, like we were, baby. We need to give it another try. I love you. I’ve always loved you. For some reason, I just lost my way. You’ve got to forgive me—let me try again. I’ll make you happy this time, I swear it.”

Kate smiled as a drawn silence reigned. His hand dropped, and he straightened. She really didn’t need to say the words. Her lack of response surely told him everything he needed to know.

Clark’s entire expression changed as he realized his speech had fallen on deaf ears. Eyes narrowed, nose to nose, his voice low and threatening. “You owe me, Kate. Owe me for all the nights I held your hair while you gagged from chemo. All the nights I spread the medicine over your burns from radiation and fought to keep you from seeing how disgusted I felt looking at you, disfigured and raw. All the days I called every hour on the hour to check on you, and tried to help you choke down the nourishment you needed. That was me, Kate. No one but me. Have you forgotten? Because I haven’t.”

“No,” she quietly replied.

“I’m here, groveling in front of you, asking for your forgiveness. Asking for a chance to win back your love. Don’t you think you owe me this much?”

Mindful of the affairs he’d had all the while she was ill, it was all she could do not to lash out at him for the cheater he was.

“No,” she quietly replied again, staring him full in the face. Strong. Defiant. Unmoved.

Clark braced. Roughly grabbing her chin and forcing her head up, he let his eyes bore into hers.

“Look at me,” he commanded, spittle spraying her face, his teeth bared in a grimace. “I’m baring my soul to you. ‘No’ is unacceptable. You owe me, Kate. And I’m not going to back off and give some blind lothario an opportunity to steal you from me. A blind man! He wants you because you’re the only woman he could get. You forget I know you as well as any man, and your insatiable need to fix things—make things right for all the unfortunates of the world—is what’s gotten to you. Well, it’s not going to happen, lover. You belong to me. That kiss in front of the restaurant meant nothing. Staged for my benefit—to make me jealous. A fool could see right through it.”

“If you believe that, you’re more pathetic than I thought. His kiss seemed real to me—in fact, it was one of our best kisses ever. Cash has the ability to make a woman feel loved and wanted as so few men can.”

Clark laughed, his hot breath making Kate gag as she tried to pull away. His fingers tightened painfully on her face as she stared into the wild eyes of a man she’d once known and loved, a man who’d become a frightening stranger.

Lips pushed into a painful pucker from the strength of his grip, she tried to jerk away. He only gripped harder.

No more.

Strength she had no idea she possessed rose within her. She crossed her wrists and slammed them upward, breaking his hold, and forcing him back a step.

“Keep your filthy hands off me.” This time, she invaded his space. “You come into my office and dare to threaten me? You, who lied and cheated your way through our entire relationship? You sniveling excuse for a man. You are nothing more than a bully. And you will never, I repeat, never have an opportunity to treat me with such cruel disrespect again.”

As most bullies do, when confronted with opposition, Clark retreated, straightening his jacket and trying to regain composure. His head jerked as he adjusted his body within the confines of his suit, and he took a step back.

“It, it wasn’t a threat, Kate. You misunderstand…”

“I misunderstood nothing. Quite the opposite. I clearly understand exactly what and who you are. This time, Clark, you should listen to me. We. Are. Over. Done—finished. You stripped me of my dignity and broke my heart. Fine. But I survived and moved on. You should do the same.”

Silence reigned in the room. Clark took a deep breath and stared into her eyes.

Chest heaving, menace flowing from every word, Clark warned, “This isn’t over, Kate. I’ll do whatever it takes for as long as it takes to get you back, so get used to seeing me and hearing from me. Tell your blind friend to hit the bricks. You’re mine—you belong to me. We belong together.”

“Get out of my office and don’t ever come back.” She pointed at the door.

Suddenly, Sarah barged in. “Everything okay in here?” she asked sharply. “We could hear you all the way in the break room. Kate, should I call security?”

Clark popped his neck, straightened his tie, and pulled at the bottom of his coat. “That won’t be necessary, Sarah. Kate and I were just discussing getting reacquainted after my extended absence. Our enthusiasm got us a little carried away. Until next time, darling. I’ll be in touch.” He exited the room.

Kate fell back in her chair, hands shaking from the ugliness of the altercation. “Sarah,” she said, her voice breaking, “please notify the guards downstairs. No further deliveries from Mr. Burgess, and under no circumstances is he to get beyond the lobby.”

“Is he dangerous? Shall I call the police?”

Kate shook her head. “If it happens again, I’ll file for an injunction. But I’ll require an escort to my car this afternoon, and probably until further notice.”

Sarah’s eyes widened, and a frown formed between her brows as she searched her boss’s face. “He’s creepy. You should be careful.”

“I intend to be.”

Creepy was a good description of her former fiancé. She’d have to call Cash. If Clark was as unbalanced as she suspected, Cash’s attentions may have made him a target for Clark’s shenanigans. Rubbing the heat on her sore face, a shadow of concern for Suzanna came to mind. Surely Clark wouldn’t hurt a child?

The jury was out on that one. The expression on his face had been scary. She’d never seen this side of his personality. Nor had he ever touched her with such anger and menace. This Clark was a different person than the man she’d known. That, or he’d kept his true nature under wraps the entire length of their relationship. Was that even possible? Certainly something was wrong. Changed. Off.

Clark had become unpredictable, possibly dangerous—who knew what to expect next?