When I’m With You (Indigo) (5 page)

“Do me a favor.”

Marilyn grabbed a pencil and pad. “Shoot.”

“Buy the building at 1707 Webster Street in Oakland and have the deed put in the name of the youth center.”

“All right.” Marilyn looked up. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. Have a contractor go over and estimate the cost of renovations.” Marcel gave his instructions without lifting his head while glancing over the messages he’d grabbed off Marilyn’s desk. “Inside and out.”

“Anything else?”

“I want a check to them by the end of the week.” Walking toward his office, he snapped his finger as if suddenly remembering something and spoke over his shoulder. “Wait. Look over their budget again. I didn’t see a line item for an administrative assistant, so put it in. Salary needs to be competitive to attract someone with nonprofit experience. Also, call Ken and have him put in a special order for a Z4 that was needed like yesterday.”

“Color?”

Marcel smiled lazily at the thought of Caitlyn’s sexy feet strapped inside her sandals and shiny painted toenails. “Red.”

“Wow.” Marilyn stopped writing to work a cramp out her finger. “Finished?”

“No. Add a line item for the director’s salary up to say…mid-six figures. The car is for the director.”

Marilyn laughed out loud. “Heck, I’ll quit here if you hire me over there.”

He smiled. “Fat chance.”

Marilyn pulled the youth center’s file from her drawer and frowned once she glanced over the budget. “They don’t have a line item for a director’s salary.”

“Add it.” Marcel sat on the edge of Marilyn’s desk again. “Make sure their operating expenses are covered at least for the next five years with a five percent salary and cost-of-living increase for staff included.” He stood and once more started for his office only to stop in mid-stride. “Condition of funding is that everything be accepted in totality or the grant’s denied. Got it?”

“Oh, yes.” Marilyn glanced over everything she’d written and did a mental calculation. “You know this will run into the millions, don’t you?”

He gave her a nonchalant shrug. “And your point is?”

Two weeks later, Marcel sat with his feet propped on the long cherry wood table in the huge conference room at BF Automotive and carefully reviewed the monthly sales report that his vice president of operations, Ken, had dropped off earlier in the afternoon. Deep in concentration, it took a few seconds for him to register the light tap at the door.

“Looks like you’re working hard.” The jab came from his father, Alcee Baptiste, who stood in the doorway.

Marcel smiled and stood. “Well, well, glad you could finally join me.”

Alcee smiled back. “The benefits of retirement, Son.”

Marcel sat and propped his feet up again. “Pop, I need to bring you up to speed. Ken told me a few days ago that we seem to have a little competition for the new dealership. He said that after we placed our initial bid, another dealership from back East raised it. Ken countered, of course, but the other company upped the ante. We all know that financing isn’t a problem, but what I don’t understand is why someone would shell out more money.” He shook his head and frowned. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

With his hands laced behind his head, Alcee tossed out a possibility. “Perhaps they’re getting more money out of the deal on the back end.”

Briefly considering the possibility, Marcel rubbed his chin. “But it doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’ve got two options, Son. Go for the dealership, but find out what’s going on behind the scene, or forget about it.”

Marcel nodded and conceded to the wisdom of the man who had almost forty years of experience in the industry. “Tell you what. Let’s see what happens with the new bid. If there’s still a problem, I’ll contact Alex and have him make a few discreet inquiries. It’ll be interesting to see what he comes up with.”

Marcel’s best friend, Alex Robinson, was a top-notched private investigator, and if anyone could get to the bottom of a mystery, Alex could.

Later in the evening around six, Marcel and Alcee were still reviewing sales reports when suddenly Marcel lifted his head. “What’s that?”

Alcee listened intently. “Sounds like someone’s knocking on your office door.”

Marcel got up and walked down the hallway from the conference room to his office and found Caitlyn standing patiently outside.

Caitlyn titled her head back and smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” Marcel placed a soft kiss against her cheek. Glancing at his watch, he sighed, frustrated with himself because he’d lost track of time and the fact they had dinner reservations at Farallon’s in San Francisco’s Union Square. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so close to seven.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Marcel and Caitlyn headed back toward the conference room, but before they entered, she stopped abruptly when she realized someone else was there. Placing her hand over her mouth, she slowly backed away. “Oh, Marcel, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything.”

Caitlyn pointed over her shoulder to the waiting room. “Listen, I can wait there until you’re finished.”

“No way. Come on. You need to meet someone anyway.” Marcel placed his hand under her elbow, and they walked inside. “Pop, I’d like you to meet Caitlyn Thompson.”

“Ms. Thompson…” Alcee, who was seated with his back to the door, stood and turned. His voice vanished the moment he came face-to-face with Caitlyn.

Caitlyn smiled and extended her hand to Alcee. “Mr. Baptiste, I’m pleased to meet you.”

Wide-eyed, Alcee managed to hold his hand out, but stammered over his words. “Uh…I-I’m pleased to meet you.”

Marcel turned to Caitlyn. “Let me grab my briefcase. Be right back.”

“Marcel’s told me a lot about you.” With an arched brow, Caitlyn tried to discreetly remove her hand from Alcee’s firm grip. “Excuse me. Is everything all right?”

Alcee’s hazel eyes were riveted to the antique fourteen-karat gold slide bracelet on Caitlyn’s wrist. He jammed his hand inside his pants pocket. “Uh, yes…yes, of course. Everything’s fine.” He glanced at the bracelet again, recognizing the intricate design scrolled on it. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. Your bracelet—I was just admiring it.”

Caitlyn looked at her wrist and smiled. “Thank you. It was my mother’s.”

“Your, uh…mother’s…” Alcee’s words were faint, his voice unsteady.

Caitlyn nodded. “Yes.”

“If you don’t mind me asking…what is your mother’s name?”

“Her name was Della Thompson.”

Alcee managed to change the choke rumbling in his throat into a quiet cough. “You said was…”

“My mother passed away several years ago.”

Alcee could only stare.

Marcel returned with his briefcase. “Pop, let’s call it a night.” He moved next to Caitlyn. “We need to get going if we’re going to make our reservation.”

Alcee nodded and stared at Caitlyn’s bracelet again. “Listen, you two enjoy the evening. Uh…I think I’ll stay another hour or so before heading out.”

Marcel flashed a lopsided grin. “Don’t tell me this is coming from the man who brags about retirement?”

Everyone laughed. Alcee left and closed the door behind him. Once they were alone, Marcel turned to Caitlyn who was smiling brightly. “So what has you so happy tonight?” He winked. “Seeing me?”

She giggled softly. “That could be one reason, but really it’s because we got the deed to the building and funding for the next five years.” Caitlyn’s words zoomed out as fast a racecar whizzing around the track at the Daytona 500.

Marcel reached to give her a brief hug, and before he knew it, he had his face burrowed against her scented neck, inhaling her soft, floral fragrance. “And that makes you happy?”

“Oh, yes. Not so much for me, but for the kids. They need it so much.” With her arms still looped at his neck, she leaned back, her eyes twinkling with delight. “Know what else?”

“What?”

“The grant offered a salary and car to the director. Can you believe that?”

Marcel didn’t acknowledge the question. What gave him joy was seeing the sparkle in her eyes.

“You deserve it, Caitlyn.” He grabbed her hand and walked them to the door. He was just about to shut off the lights when he heard a knock and opened the door.

“Hi, Ken. Come on in. Want you to meet someone.” Once Ken entered the conference room, Marcel called out to Caitlyn from behind. “Caitlyn, this is Ken Terrell, the man who really runs things around here.” He glanced back at Ken. “Ken, I’d like to introduce you to Caitlyn Thompson.”

Startled, Ken dropped the folder in his hand the moment Caitlyn faced him. “I-I’m pleased to meet you, C-Caitlyn.” He stooped to gather the papers and regain his composure. Then he straightened and glanced at Marcel. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I can come back later.”

Marcel waved off the apology. “No problem. Listen, Pop is still here if you want to see him.” He grabbed Caitlyn’s hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before we lose our reservation.”

* * *

Caitlyn tightly clutched her small handbag to her chest. “Thanks again for dinner. It’s been a wonderful evening.”

Marcel drove Caitlyn back to her apartment after dinner since she’d taken BART to San Francisco to meet him. Seated inside his plush, black BMW, Caitlyn glanced over to find he’d turned his back against the door. From the moment he’d put the car in park, he hadn’t said a word, but his penetrating gaze spoke volumes. As far as she was concerned, he didn’t need to speak because what she saw in his eyes said it all. She saw unabashed desire and it burned her to a crisp. She knew if they ever got together, they would set off a five-alarm blaze.

Caitlyn tore her gaze away and stared out the front windshield. Fear from the past reared its ugly head. At this point in her life, she didn’t want to feel an attraction for any man, and she certainly didn’t want to feel it this soon for the one sitting next to her. She’d experienced one disastrous relationship all because she’d foolishly placed her confidence in someone she thought she could trust. That error had nearly destroyed her, and it was one she’d vowed to never make again.

She sucked in a deep breath. “Marcel, I-I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” The words came out hoarse and choked, despite her best effort to maintain a rock-steady tone.

Marcel frowned. “Why?”

“I-I’m not the right person for you to get involved with.”

He shook his head. “You’re wrong on that one, Caitlyn.” He grabbed her left hand. “Can you honestly sit here and tell me I’m solo in what I’m feeling?”

It was a long while before she could say anything. She could no more deny the attraction she felt for Marcel than not take her next breath. “No, and if I knew how to stop my emotions right now, I would.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. “Tell me what you feel.”

She turned to him, staring with a soft gaze. “When?”

“Right now.” He kissed the inside of her palm. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“When I’m with you, I feel safe…like nothing in the world can ever hurt me.”

“Then hold on to that.” Releasing her hand, he inched over and braced his arm along the passenger seat.

Caitlyn glanced over at him. “What do you feel?”

He trailed his finger along her cheek and focused on her lips. “I feel like I’ll lose my mind if I don’t kiss you.” Despite the darkness, he tried to search her eyes for permission. He wouldn’t rush her. She’d been hurt once and he vowed no one would ever do it again. He waited patiently for her answer. The moment she looped her arm around his neck and parted her lips, it was all the acknowledgment he needed.

The kiss started out gentle, but grew hotter, more urgent, and she moaned under the assault of his mouth. Marcel deepened the kiss, and she clutched the lapels of his jacket as though they were a life preserver that would protect her against the carnal storm threatening to sweep her out into the Pacific Ocean.

When they parted, Caitlyn fought to breathe, fought to control her heart, which was beating as if she’d run a twenty-mile marathon. With her head bowed, she placed her hand at the center of her chest. “There’s something you should know.”

Marcel released a long sigh of satisfaction. “Talk to me.”

“I-I’m…”

Marcel gently lifted her chin and met her gaze. “Come on, Caitlyn. Talk to me.” He stroked his finger along her brow. “You can trust me.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. “He hurt me.”

“What did he do?”

The words lodged in her throat. The pain was still too raw, the hurt too deep. Caitlyn shook her head, an indication she wasn’t ready to discuss it.

Marcel nodded his acceptance of her stance. “Listen, whenever you’re ready, all right?”

With a solemn look, Caitlyn turned her face to hide the fear in her eyes. “I’ve been running from him for three years.”

“Is that why you’ve been so reluctant to share information about yourself?”