Once and Again (20 page)

“If it’s any consolation, I hated myself.” Her voice was quiet.

“No apologies. I don’t want to hear it. It’s done.”

“What do you want, then?”

“Just you, Caro.” He kissed her nice and deep. “But if I don’t feed you, I think you’re going to collapse. And you need nourishment for everything I want to do to you tonight.”

“What, there’s more?” Carolyn said, her eyes widening in mock surprise.

“I don’t think I’m going to get fifteen years’ worth of fantasies out of you in one night,” Jake said. “But I’m damned sure going to try. You game?”

A slow smile formed on her beautiful face. “For anything.”

Since his trip to South Beach, things had changed for Jake. Seeing his old life through new eyes had given him perspective. All those hard years of work to prove that he was worthy—when in reality, he’d been worthy all along. Of Briarwood. Of Carolyn. He just wished he’d had the maturity and insight to see it before.

And the dynamic between him, Press, and Marcus had changed, too. Press was still his old irrepressible self, and Marcus was still as bull-headed as he’d always been, but they were getting along better than ever. They were older now. More experienced.

The Briarwood deal was done—wrapped up with lightning speed by their overpaid attorneys—and no way did Jake regret bringing them on as partners. Not only had they solved his pesky cash-flow problem with Portofino, which was finally back on track, but they each brought something different to the table. He didn’t always agree with them, and they got in plenty of fights, but he appreciated their ideas. And ideas were what they needed now, with a Board meeting coming up in less than a week.

Press and Marcus had joined him back at Briarwood for a brainstorming session. Five days to get their shit together did not seem like a lot, but it would be their last shot to meet before the Board meeting mid-month, and the welcome party a mere two days later. Plus, they’d scheduled the renovations for the clubhouse to begin in mid-June, and if they didn’t have the full support of the Board, things would not be easy.

Right now, all three men were camped out in the Heron conference room. It was a wreck—three half-full pitchers of water on the sideboard, paper stacks of varying heights on the floor in messy lines, pens and coffee mugs everywhere, chairs shoved to the sides of the room acting as makeshift tables for even more piles of paper. And, of course, each of them had a different idea about what would sway the Board of Trustees to vote cleanly in their favor, which would send a strong message to the members that they were behind the renovations.

Marcus was in his chair, looking weary but determined, an empty mug in front of him. He took off his glasses and placed them on the table. “If we want this meeting to go in our favor, we need to be armed with cold, hard facts,” he said.

Press shook his head. “Like I keep saying, I don’t think that’s going to work.”

“So what will?”

“A softer touch,” he said, tapping his pen on a pad of paper for emphasis. “This is a very emotional thing for the Board. Let’s be sympathetic.”

“It’s about money,” Jake said flatly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course it is,” Press said. “But they don’t want to be reminded of that.”

“Then they shouldn’t have offered up this place for sale!”

“They didn’t have a choice,” Press said. “Look at it from their perspective. They can’t run their club the way they want anymore because this place is slowly dying and they’re desperately trying to hold on to the way things were.”

“Sucks for them,” Marcus said. “But the fact remains that we own this place and we’re not giving up control. So let’s show them in numbers how if they don’t go along with the renovations peacefully, there’s not going to be a club to renovate.”

Hearing both points of view come out this way, Jake finally understood that his way might not be the best way. He uncrossed his arms. “We can’t do that,” he said with a sigh. “Because we need the existing members to stay through the renovation. New folks won’t want to join until after the renovations are complete, and we need at least some cash flowing in while we’re doing the work.”

“Right,” Press said. “So we need to be more conciliatory.”

“Only up to a point,” Marcus said. “We own it. We do what we want.”

“It’s not that simple,” Press said. “You see—”

At that moment, the door to the conference room opened, and who should be standing there but Carolyn Rivington. A look of surprise flickered across her face, and then a slow, dull red crept across her cheeks. Given that he’d seen every inch of her naked last night, he knew exactly how far that flush could extend.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know this room was in use.” She started to close the door.

“Wait,” Jake called out. “Don’t go. Please.” She hesitated only a fraction of a second, then did as he asked. Still, she hovered by the door, holding a clipboard to her chest. “Carolyn, you’ve met Preston before.”

“Hello again,” she said, giving him a polite nod.

“And this is Marcus Colby,” Jake said. Marc slipped his glasses on.

“Mr. Colby,” she said.

“Marc, please,” he said, giving Jake a sidelong glance. “It’s a pleasure.”

“This is Carolyn Rivington. She’s Briarwood’s director of events, and even more important, she has the ears of the staff and the members.”

Marcus sat up straighter. “Really?” he said. “What have you heard? Who have you talked to?”

Carolyn cleared her throat. “I’ve had meetings with some members this week and last for event-planning purposes.”

“And how have they felt about the renovations?”

“It’s been a mixed response,” she said slowly. “I don’t bring it up unless they do, and sometimes they give me a one-off comment or a diatribe. I’d say that some people understand the benefits of freshening up the facilities. Others don’t want to see change happen.”

“People fear change,” Press murmured.

“Exactly.” She shot a glance to Jake, who gave her a nod to continue. “What I’ve noticed is that those who’ve been members the longest are the ones who are most unhappy about the coming changes. But let me clarify something else—most of the people planning parties aren’t members of the Board. I have the sense that the non-Board members may actually feel differently about the renovations than the members who have the power.”

“Now
that’s
an interesting tidbit,” Press said.

“Who are the most influential members of the club?” Marcus demanded.

Carolyn thought for a moment. “Vernon Chelmsford, Wright Winters, Kurt Fredericks, Ruddy Reynolds, Sara Hartwell, Buck Ames, and Gerry Chaffee.”

“Winters is the only one not on the Board,” Jake supplied.

“Is there any way you could, I don’t know, push your clients to admit they are happy about the renovations? Or maybe get them to start a pro-renovation campaign?” Marcus asked.

Again, Carolyn looked at Jake. It was almost exactly what he’d asked her to do so many weeks ago.

Eyes still on him, Carolyn slowly spoke. “I can’t simply push them to do anything.”

“We don’t typically like to be handled,” Press piped in. “And we appreciate subtlety.”

Carolyn’s gaze flicked over to Press. “Yes, exactly,” she said, seeming relieved. “I could, perhaps, insinuate that the renovations would improve the facilities tremendously. Or gently suggest that events would be much lovelier after the work has been done.”

“In other words, be subtle,” Marcus said flatly.

“Precisely,” Carolyn said.

“Would you be comfortable with that?” Jake said, keeping his voice soft. “I can give you a list of proposed renovations.” This time, he was asking her, not demanding the way he’d so crudely done his first day back at Briarwood. So much had happened between them since then. He regretted a hell of a lot of it. But there were other things he’d sell his soul to do again.

Carolyn understood—she had to—because after a pause, she nodded. “Yes. I think I would be.” They must have been staring at each other a bit too long, because Marcus cleared his throat.

“So we have another ally,” he said. “Good.”

Carolyn tore her gaze away from Jake’s. “If that will be all, gentlemen, I have a client meeting in,” she glanced at her watch, “ten minutes. And I need to make sure there’s a free conference room beforehand.”

“Yes,” Press said. “Thanks for your help.”

“Thank you,” Marcus said.

Jake just gave her a smile.
Thank you.

As soon as she left, two pairs of curious eyes were on him.

“What?” Jake challenged.

Press’s lips curled up in a smile. “Looks like Holly Winston’s really out of luck, isn’t she?”

There was no use trying to deny it, and now wasn’t the time to fight. So instead of telling Press to fuck off, he just gritted his teeth. “You got something to say, too?” he asked Marcus. “Spit it out.”

“Nope,” Marcus said. “Just—”

“What?” Jake growled.

“Nothing,” he said, looking more intrigued than angry at Jake’s aggressive tone.

“Let’s move on,” Press suggested. “And try to finish up so we can go get some food. I’m ravenous.”

“You’re always ravenous,” Marcus said.

Press just shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a man of big appetites.”

“Asshole,” Marcus muttered, making it sound like an endearment.

“I have a better idea,” Jake said. “Want to grab a beer with me and my brother?”

Both men looked shocked. Jake rarely mentioned his family, and even in business school, Press and Marcus had learned enough not to pry.

“I must admit I’m curious to meet this elusive brother of yours,” Press said. “But does he want to meet us?”

“I think the bigger question is whether you’re sure you want
us
to meet
him,
” Marcus said, his voice wry.

“Just don’t embarrass me,” Jake said. “And be on your best behavior. He’s my brother, but he’s also one of the greatest woodwork preservationists in the area. If you’re nice, maybe he’ll help us out with the Briarwood restoration.”

If the two men weren’t dumbstruck before, they sure were now.

“Where have you been hiding this mystical brother of yours?” Press finally asked.

Jake grinned. “He’s been right here in Eastbridge the whole time.”

Carolyn carefully shut the conference room door behind her and slowly walked down the hall. Something had changed between her and Jake. Something big, though she wasn’t truly sure why. It was strange—they couldn’t get any physically closer than they had already. Only last night, Jake had her up on his kitchen counter, and—
God,
she was blushing just thinking about what he’d done. She’d come twice in a row before he let her catch her breath, only to pull her to the floor, where he’d wrested one more explosive orgasm out of her willing body.

Only he could do this to her—make her crave his touch by memory alone.

And yes, her body was willing. Oh, so willing, over and over again. But she hadn’t been prepared for all the emotion that went along with it. It was partly her fault—every emotion she used to dredge up regarding Jake seemed to be on the spectrum of regret and shame. This was a new one: respect.

He valued her opinion. He wanted her help. And she was more than glad to give it to him.

She let this thought percolate in her brain while she went to collect Mrs. Chelmsford. She found Alicia sitting on one of the couches in Briarwood’s entranceway. The older woman had her silvery blond hair swept back in a twist, and she was wearing a navy day dress, over which she’d paired a white cardigan with navy-blue grosgrain ribbon trim. Her stylish heels were also navy.

Carolyn had inherited her own mother’s version of that outfit. In fact, she’d worn it last Tuesday.

That was only one of the reasons she liked Alicia. There were so many other reasons, not least of which was Alicia’s warmth. The Chelmsfords had moved to Eastbridge a decade ago from Kennebunkport, and the fact that they had no history with her family meant they had no baggage to contend with. Alicia treated Carolyn more like a friend than a member of the staff, something she truly appreciated.

“My dear Carolyn,” Alicia Chelmsford said, rising as soon as she spied her.

“How are you?”

“Well. Very well, but I’m tired. I’m trying to juggle so many things—the Women’s Club social, the library fundraiser…” Alicia took a deep breath. “It’s lovely to take a break to put the final touches on this party.”

Carolyn smiled at the older woman. “I feel the same, Alicia. I have a free conference room we can use, or we can head right to the ballroom.”

“The ballroom, absolutely.”

The two women made their way down the carpeted hallway. As they passed by the Heron room, Jake, Press, and Marcus emerged. She hadn’t quite realized how large Marcus was when he was seated, and together, the three men looked quite intimidating. They were deep in conversation, but as Jake passed them, he gave her and Alicia a nod. “Ladies,” he said, then jumped back into the conversation.

Alicia waited until they were out of earshot before speaking. “Is the new owner giving you trouble? Vernon says he’s very coarse.” Vernon Chelmsford, Alicia’s very proper, very old-school husband,
would
say that.

“
Coarse
isn’t exactly the word I’d use,” Carolyn murmured.
Driven. Dangerous. Hot as hell
were probably more apt. “I will say that despite his unorthodox methodology, I do like some of the changes he’s proposing.”

“Oh?” Alicia said, just as they reached the doors to the ballroom. Carolyn pushed them open and gestured for Alicia to step inside. “Vernon seems to be completely against any renovations of any kind.”

“All I know is that much of what’s on the table will make my job easier,” Carolyn said, flicking on the lights to illuminate the cavernous room.

“How so?” Alicia seemed genuinely curious. The perfect opening to take her first crack at helping Jake achieve his objectives.

“Well,” Carolyn began, “take this ballroom, for example. It’s over a hundred years old, and honestly, it looks fine given that the last time the décor was done, I think Reagan was in the White House. But Briarwood is a private club, not a museum, and in my opinion, there’s no reason for this place not to look vibrant instead of dated. I’ve been dying to see those heavy curtains taken down and replaced with a gauzier material so that the wainscoting will pop. See?” Carolyn walked over to the window and lifted one of the heavy damask curtains so Alicia could see what she was talking about.

Alicia cocked her head and peered at the curtains. “I haven’t really looked at this place since Vernon and I joined the club, but I see what you’re talking about. They drag the whole room down.”