Need You Tonight (8 page)

“Wifely duties? What the fuck?”

“That’s what I’m saying. That line alone made me want to find this guy so I could
kick him in his junk. Nothing was substantiated from what I can tell. And apparently
this Marilyn Wallace, the reporter who penned most of the negative stories, used to
be Tessa’s close friend, so that’s pretty interesting that she’d turn on her so quickly.
My guess is she had some added motivation to write up the stories. But regardless,
it looks like the society pages ate the shit up. The pastor’s reputation got dinged
pretty good. People left his church, and he almost lost the TV slot. But looks like
after some damage control, he was able to hold on to his contract and convince his
congregation to give him the benefit of the doubt. She wasn’t so lucky. The press
labeled her the washed up, pampered ice princess and called it a Cinderella story
gone bad. Apparently, she didn’t come from money.”

No. She didn’t come from anything,
Kade thought, an old sadness welling up. And he knew beyond a doubt that Tessa would
have never popped pills. Tess’s birthmother had abandoned her because of drugs. In
high school, Tess hadn’t even liked taking over-the-counter medicine, so that part
was definitely bullshit and lies. He skimmed through a few of the documents. “Who
was the guy?”

Maile flipped through the pages on her steno pad. “Um, something Barrett. Hold up,
I wrote it down.”

But Kade already knew the rest of the answer, a bitter, icy cold moving through him.
“Douglas Barrett.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” she said.

Kade sat back in his chair, feeling like a truck had rolled right over him. Douglas
Barrett. It’d been a name he’d tried to block out of his memory completely, one that
dragged him back to years he never wanted to revisit.
Doug fucking Barrett
. God, Tessa had gone through with it. She’d married that sociopath anyway. And had
stayed with him all those years. She’d known what Doug had done that night—well, enough
of what he’d done—and had still given herself to him.

For the security. The money.

Things Kade hadn’t been able to offer her.

“Boss, you okay?” Maile asked, her brows pinched together. “You don’t look so great.”

He rubbed his eyes and took a long, deep breath, doing his best to shove the past
back to where it belonged. He was beyond all that. He would not let one drop of that
leak in. All he was interested in was learning more about who Tess was now. “I’m all
right. Anything else I should know?”

Maile pulled a paper from the bottom of the pile and slid it his way. “Last year,
her charity applied to be the sponsored organization for our annual Dine and Donate
event. We didn’t select them since we were focusing on homelessness last year. But
they’re on the consideration list for this year since we’re planning to choose a charity
focused on children.”

He perused the application in front of him. It’d been filled out by the director of
Bluebonnet Place but under the founder column was Tessa’s married name. Even seeing
Doug’s last name sitting next to hers made his stomach want to heave. But an idea
was already forming in his head, lifting his mood a bit. “Are we close to selecting
an organization yet?”

Maile sighed. “No, with Evelyn on medical leave, we don’t have anyone heading up things
right now. I think PR is looking to hire someone from the outside to handle it.”

Kade smiled and pushed the application back toward Maile. “Please call the charity
director and tell her we’re considering the organization, but that I insist on meeting
with the founder to find out more about their work first.”

Maile narrowed her eyes, evaluating him like his grandmother did that first night
he’d shown up on her doorstep. “Kade Vandergriff.”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“You have that scheming look on your face. What are you up to?”

“Me? I’m just trying to get more involved in my company’s charitable contributions.”

Maile shook her head and looked to the ceiling. “Lord, help us all. Kade’s got his
eye on a woman.”

“Aww, you know you’re the only girl for me, Mai,” he teased as she rose from her chair.

She glanced back over her shoulder and stuck out her tongue. “Eww boys, gross.”

He chuckled. “I don’t blame you. I’ve seen your girlfriend. I wouldn’t leave her for
me, either.”

She smirked. “So who is this Tessa McAllen to you, really?”

He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his desk and looking at the photo of Tessa
again. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

SEVEN

“You should come with me,” Tessa said, anxiously flipping through the brochures and
paperwork the director had handed over to her. “You’ll be so much better at this than
me.”

Iris gave her a warm smile and folded her hands on top of the desk, that stern grandmotherly
vibe wafting off of her. “Ms. McAllen, his assistant was very specific. Mr. Vandergriff
wants to meet with the founder, not me. And no one is more passionate about this place
than you are. You’re going to do great. In fact, I still don’t understand why you
don’t take a position here. I’d happily step down to assistant director since I’m
only a few years from retirement. This is your baby.”

Tessa tucked the papers in her bag, her palms sweaty already. This was exactly why
she hadn’t appointed herself director when she moved back. Just because she had founded
the charity didn’t mean she was qualified to run it. She had a high school education
and a resume that could barely fill half a page.
Hi, can I take your order?
was much closer to her skillset than this. Doug hadn’t even let her near the financials
of Bluebonnet because he said it would take too long for him to teach her what she
was looking at.

How the hell was she supposed to meet with the CEO of some giant company and sound
even halfway intelligent? Especially with the pressure of knowing how much was riding
on this. Getting selected could mean the answer to her prayers for keeping Bluebonnet
open. But if she flubbed it, the hard-working woman sitting in front of her would
be out of a job and all those kids she’d passed on her way in would be out of services.

No. She wasn’t going to let that happen. She took a steadying breath. “Okay, yes,
I can do this.”

“Of course you can, dear.” Iris’s dark hand covered Tessa’s pale, shaking one, giving
it a squeeze. “And if this opportunity doesn’t work out, there will be more. I’ve
been sending letters to lots of potential donors. Something will come through. You’ve
created a good thing here. Others will see that and want to help.”

Tessa nodded, trying to absorb some of the older woman’s confidence and shake off
the veil of guilt that tried to envelop her at Iris’s assertion. Yes, Tessa had created
good things here by coming up with the concept and providing the funds via her ex-husband.
But the day-to-day miracles belonged to the woman behind the desk and the rest of
the staff. The pictures lining the walls were of kids with employees and volunteers
who were in the trenches here day to day. The only photos of Tessa were one from opening
day when she’d cut the ribbon they’d tied around the building and another at an awards
ceremony. In the grand scheme of it all, Tessa’s role was remote and minor at best—the
face of the charity but not the backbone. That fact hadn’t bothered her before, but
now it dug into her gut like a burr, sticking there and reminding her of its presence
with every breath.

She so didn’t deserve to be the person representing the charity to some bigwig donor
today, but it looked like there was no way around it. And maybe, if by some miracle
she could pull this off, it would help make up a little for her hands-off approach
the last few years.

She gathered all of her documents and stood. “Thank you, Iris, for the pep talk and
for everything you do here. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the way you put
your soul into this place.”

Iris rose from behind her desk and came around to give Tessa a hug. The move made
Tessa stiffen with surprise, but soon she found herself returning the gesture. Iris
pulled back and patted Tessa’s cheek. “It’s my pleasure, dear. And we’re glad to have
you here in town with us now. That man was no good for you.”

Tessa laughed, caught off guard by the woman’s candor. Usually, she was the consummate
professional, never uttering an unkind word toward anyone, except maybe the occasional
bless his heart
. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

“Now, go get us that money, girl,” Iris said with a grin. “And don’t you be a stranger
around here. This is your home as much as it is ours.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tessa said, feeling an old twinge at the word
home
. That simple word had always been such a fleeting concept in her life. Any time she
thought she had fledgling roots starting to dig in, the sand shifted beneath her again
and the rain washed them away. And here once more, life was trying to pull something
else out from beneath her.

No, not life this time.
Doug.

The bolt of anger that flashed through her at the thought had her shoulders pulling
back and her chin tipping up. No freaking way was she letting him win.

No matter what she had to do, she was going to get this money.

She gave Iris a quick good-bye and headed to her car with renewed resolve. Watch out,
Mr. CEO, because Tessa McAllen wasn’t taking no for an answer today.

Tessa’s confidence flagged slightly when she arrived downtown and stared up at the
gleaming building that held Vandergriff Industries, but she didn’t have time to let
all the insecurities rush back in. Her appointment was in less than fifteen minutes,
and being late was not an option. She hurried to the bank of elevators and punched
the button for the twenty-second floor. On the ride up, she read over the bullet points
she’d typed into her phone and practiced her spiel in her head.

Fake it ’til you make it.
The little tome Sam had offered kept replaying in her mind. If Tessa acted like she
was confident and well-informed, people would believe it. That was the theory at least.
And she
was
well-informed about the charity. Confident? Well, that’d require the faking part.

When she reached the office of Kade Vandergriff, a serious-faced Asian woman lifted
a hand in greeting from behind her desk but was on the phone. She motioned for Tessa
to have a seat and that she’d be a minute. Tessa sat in one of the cushy chairs along
the wall and fought the urge to gnaw on her thumbnail—a childhood habit that liked
to resurface at the worst times. Waiting rooms had never been happy places for her.
Child services. Principals’ offices. Therapy sessions. Police stations. Waiting rooms
usually meant bad news.

The woman put the phone in its cradle and came around the desk to greet Tessa. “You
must be Ms. McAllen.”

Tessa stood and put out her hand. “Yes.”

“I’m Maile, Mr. Vandergriff’s assistant.” She shook Tessa’s hand and gave her an almost
undetectable once-over, her eyebrow lifting slightly as if she was surprised by what
she found. Maybe she’d been expecting an older woman, someone more distinguished to
be the founder of a charity.

“Nice to meet you.”

Maile smiled, and it changed her whole face, bringing effortless beauty to the surface.
“Same. I’ll let Mr. Vandergriff know you’re here. He should only be a minute.”

“Thank you.”

Maile slipped back behind her desk and lifted the phone again while punching a button.
“Ms. McAllen is here to see you.” She gave a quick nod. “Yes, sir. I’ll send her in.”

Tessa gripped her documents close to her chest, butterflies the size of velociraptors
crashing around in her stomach.

“You can go on in,” Maile said, indicating the door behind her.

Tessa thanked her and took a deep breath, then headed toward the door, letting her
I’m-totally-calm-and-confident mask slip into place. She’d practiced that facade with
every new school she’d started, every new family she’d been placed with. Don’t let
anyone see fear. The knob turned with ease in her hand, and she pushed the door open.

But the face that greeted her on the other side had all her plans tumbling into a
free fall like a plane with broken wings. She could almost hear the whine of wind
rushing past her ears.
Mayday, mayday! Boom! Crash!

Van, no, Mr.
Van
dergriff, smiled and stood. “Hi, Tessa, why don’t you shut that door behind you and
come on in?”

She blinked, realizing she’d frozen there in the doorway like some slack-jawed sculpture.
She cleared her throat, her skin flushing from foot to crown. “Right, of course.”

She shut the door and somehow found her way across his very large, very posh office
and stopped in front of his desk. The vision of him standing there in his expensive
pinstripe suit with the view of downtown Dallas framed behind him in the large corner-office
windows was almost too much to take in all at once. He’d exuded confidence on Friday
night, but this version of him almost made her tip backward in her heels with the
force of his presence. He took the papers from her grasp and set them on the desk,
then took her hand between his. “I’m so happy to see you again and to see that you’re
all right after the other night. You are okay, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” She stared at him, lost for a moment in that penetrative blue gaze, the
memory of that night stirring both arousal and embarrassment. She’d been so wanton
with him . . . and way too honest. This man hadn’t just seen her naked, she’d told
him things that you only tell your closest friends—or people who you thought you’d
never see again. “You gave me a fake name.”

She cringed at her accusatory tone. Damn, that wasn’t what she’d meant to say.

He released her hand, amusement flashing through his eyes as he motioned for her to
take a seat. “No, I gave you a nickname I occasionally use. And you weren’t totally
forthcoming on the name bit either,
Tessa
, so maybe we should call it even.”

She sat down, ready to explain, but as the present moment finally settled in around
her, it hit her that though she was reeling, he didn’t seem at all surprised to see
her
there. “You knew it was me who was coming today.”

He gave an enigmatic smile. “We have a lot to talk about.”

She glanced down at her stack of brochures, suddenly remembering why she’d come there
today.
Oh, God.
How in the hell was she supposed to pitch her children’s charity to a guy who’d licked
olive oil and orange juice off her boobs? She wanted to put her face in her hands
and die right there. That would be easier than suffering through this conversation.
“I don’t even know where to start. This . . . I wasn’t expecting . . .”

“Tessa,” he said, cutting off her rambling with a firm but kind voice. “Don’t be embarrassed.
We’re both adults, and everything is fine. How about we get this business stuff done
first? Then we can tackle anything else afterward.”

She rolled her lips inward and nodded, doing her best to regain her composure. “Sounds
good.”

He leaned back in his chair and hooked an ankle over his knee, as if settling in to
evaluate her, but he started talking before she could begin her speech. “First, let
me explain a little about our event so you know what we’re looking at. Every year,
Vandergriff Industries gathers the top restaurants in the city, not just the ones
we own, to participate in a large, upscale wine and food event called Dine and Donate.
Each restaurant who participates sends a team to man a booth that sells appetizers
and cocktails to attendees. We try to have at least thirty restaurants participate
so that people have a variety of cuisines to sample. We also book local bands to play
throughout the day and then usually a well-known act to headline the night. All proceeds
go to the selected charity for that year.”

“Wow, sounds like a major undertaking,” she said, already imagining how much money
something that large scale must bring in for the lucky charity.

“It is,” he agreed. “And we’ve been very successful with it over the last few years,
which is why so many charities solicit us now.”

She wet her lips, nerves creeping back in as she pictured a line of worthy charities
wrapping around the building, hoping to be the chosen one.

“And we wish we could select them all, but the biggest impact comes from choosing
the one each year where we can really make a significant difference.”

“Right.”

“So,” he said, leaning forward and putting his forearms on the desk, “tell me why
being selected would make a significant difference to
your
charity.”

His laser gaze pinned her to the spot, and it felt like her tongue dried out and shrunk
to half its size. She fiddled with opening the brochure in front of her while trying
to find her voice. “Well, I brought—”

His hand landed over hers, stilling her nervous movements. “No, don’t read to me about
it.
Tell
me, Tessa.”

She looked up, her heart doing a discordant drumroll against her ribs. This was her
chance,
Bluebonnet’s
only chance to survive right now. All those people and kids were counting on her.
She couldn’t freeze up like a frightened mouse or screw this up because she happened
to be intimidated by/attracted to/left speechless by this man. She nodded and he released
her hand.

“Bluebonnet Place is a charity focused on helping older children in foster care develop
life and work skills so that when they age out of the system, they have a foundation
to stand on. We assign them mentors who help them with college applications and with
applying for financial aid. We assist them in getting jobs during high school to gain
work experience and skills. And we provide a place where they can come after school
if they need a break from their household or the group home or the streets.”

Kade nodded, seeming as if he was listening with every ounce of his attention. It
was both unnerving and confidence building.

She cleared her throat, encouraged by his interest, and began to share the statistics
of how many kids aged out of the system and what their likely outcomes were without
support. The grim numbers made her stomach twist, but she continued on, her passion
for the cause starting to rise to the surface and speed up her words.

Kade took a few notes and appeared appropriately concerned by some of the more dire
statistics.

“And I know that we’re small and still relatively new,” she continued, “But—”