Worth the Trouble (St. James #2) (18 page)

BOOK: Worth the Trouble (St. James #2)
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“Exclusivity meaning I couldn’t promote other jewelry?”

“No, total exclusivity. You couldn’t attach your name to any other product during the term of this contract.”

“That won’t work.” She cast a furtive glance at Hank. “Can it be negotiated?”

“I don’t know, but why doesn’t it work? You’d still be able to model because the clothing lines aren’t in your name. Is there some other product you’re interested in branding?”

Drawing a deep breath, she fessed up. “My own, actually. I’m planning to partner with a furniture designer to start a new business, Mitchell/St. James.”

Elise’s silence stretched out forever, and the weight of Hank’s stare grew heavier. Finally a frosty voice came through the line. “I wish you would’ve informed me of this before I wasted my time investigating licensing deals for you, Cat.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were speaking with anyone. I would’ve thought we’d have discussed any possibility beforehand.” Cat sighed, wishing Hank weren’t able to hear every word of her end of the conversation. “Is there any chance that exclusivity can be pared back?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound like you’ll have time to commit to this project, uphold your prior commitments to Armani, and start a new business, anyway.”

“The Armani contract isn’t overly demanding.” Cat then asked, “Are you sure there’s no chance she’ll consider carving out an excep
tion to that clause?”

“I doubt it. Exclusivity is fairly standard in these license agreements. Are
you
sure you want to pass up this kind of money for something so
risky? If your venture fails, the value of your name, for branding
pur
poses, will plummet. That means less money on the table
next time,
assuming I can even secure you another deal down the road.”

Cat’s living room walls appeared to be closing in. Perspiration broke out across her chest.

A clear-cut test of her readiness to walk away from a sure bet and risk her reputation on a business and man she’d only begun to know. A man with so many other obligations pulling at him. A partnership that could hit a rocky road when their personal relationship cooled.

She faced Hank, his lush green eyes watching her and waiting. How could she turn her back on him after building up his hopes? After standing up to David? After letting Hank quit his job?

People had always underestimated her; Hank believed in her. He was giving her the chance to prove herself as much as she was giving him the chance to live his dream. He’d put his own family’s security at risk for her, so she should do the same for him.

Her mother’s heavily accented English drifted through her
mind.
Stick to your guns, hija preciosa.

“I’m sorry, Elise. If you can’t negotiate an exception, I have to pass.”

“I hope you don’t regret this. Should I also assume you’ll no lon
ger have time for modeling, either? Perhaps we should reconsider our relationship once your Armani contract concludes.”

“I can still take on occasional modeling work, but if you’re no longer interested in representing me, then I’ll respect that decision.” Cat felt Hank squirming beside her on the sofa.

Elise sighed through the phone. “Let’s talk after you return from Milan next month.”

“Fine.” Cat tossed her phone aside and drew a deep breath. When she turned toward Hank, he was staring at her as if she had two heads.

“Tell me you didn’t just walk away from half a million dollars and more, Cat.”

“I didn’t have a choice. It was this,” she pointed at his drawings, “or the other.”

Hank sprang off the sofa and paced in a tight circle. “Half a million dollars? I can’t even imagine having that kind of offer, let alone turning it down.”

If he kept forcing her to think about it, she might get a little sick, too.

“Hank, that was a two-year deal. We’re building something that will last decades. Something in which I have a vote, too. And we’re going to make money.”

“I told you before, maxed out I might be able to build eighteen or twenty quality pieces of furniture per year. A great year would gross maybe two-fifty. For me, grossing sixty is about break-even with what I make with Jackson, so I might even be ahead of the game depending on our expenses, but it’s a huge step down for you.” He stabbed his fingers through his hair.

When he put it that way, it didn’t sound like she’d made a good
decision. But her mortgage was minimal, she had money, and they had
time to grow the business. Short-term sacrifice for a long-term gain.
For something real and meaningful, for something that would be hers.

“So the first year will be lean, but then we’ll hire help, or take on interns at a really low cost who can help beef up production.” And then, whether to convince him or herself, she added, “Don’t forget, the endgame is mass-producing knockoffs. That’s when volume and real money will come.”

“I’m worried you’re going to resent me if this all doesn’t turn out like you plan. What if it never becomes more than a small, distinguished business? Can you be happy without all of this?” He gestured around her posh apartment.

“First of all, I’m not going to resent you for an idea
I
pushed you to consider. Please don’t let concerns about our personal relationship interfere with making business decisions. Let’s agree—right now—that the two are separate, and promise not to let one affect the other.”

“Is that possible?” He pinned her with his direct gaze.

“I think so. We both have a lot at stake, so the business needs to remain the priority, at least until we’re on some solid footing.” She licked her lips, feeling antsy under the weight of his scrutiny. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“So you’re already backing away from our personal relationship?”

“I agreed to try dating, but I’ve always been honest about my hesitation to get involved in a serious relationship.” She clasped his hand. “Given the stakes of this venture, if push comes to shove, the business interests should come before personal ones.”

Hank looked torn and, honestly, disappointed. “Seeing as you’ve just walked away from a ton of money, and are also putting up all the money for our company, I’d be a jerk to disagree, wouldn’t I?”

“One thing you could never be is a jerk.” She smiled at him, hoping to ease his tension.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, clearly concerned. “I’m not used to being in this spot, and I don’t like it.”

“What spot?”

“Getting a lot more than I’m giving.”

“I’m not
giving
you anything. Who has to build all this stuff?”

Hank stared at her, then nodded. “I still feel lousy that you’ve walked away from a sure thing.”

“Don’t feel lousy. Just be committed. We’ve got to put everything into this launch. I know the business will grow slowly, but let’s step out with our best foot forward. Our trade-show debut should be flawless despite the rushed circumstances. I’m betting my reputation on it, so promise me it’s your top priority, too.”

Hank’s silence only made every other noise in the apartment sound louder, sharper. He clasped her hand. “When I make a promise I keep it. You want flawless, you got it. I promise, you can always depend on me, Cat.”

“I never really doubted it. So once Esther arrives, we’ll finalize the organizational papers.” She lifted his sketches off the table and started shuffling through them. “Before we were interrupted, you wanted to discuss some concerns about these?”

Without warning, she saw desire flicker in his eyes, hunger crowding out all other thoughts.

“First, let’s celebrate.” He held his hand out. When she took it, he yanked her off the sofa and up against his body and kissed her.

She allowed herself three, maybe five, seconds of pure pleasure before planting her hands against his chest. “Hank, let’s stay focused. We’ve still got a lot to lock down, and Esther’s going to be here in a bit.”

He looked at her like she’d slapped him across the cheek, but then stepped back, hands held up. “I see.”

“Please don’t look at me like that. We’ve just agreed to keep the business the priority.”

She felt his retreat as much as she saw the coolness descend between them. Apparently her idea of separating business and personal relationships would be a huge challenge.

“Yes, we did. Speaking of which, I need to finish your closets. Guess I’ll get back to work, then, partner. Call me when Esther arrives.” He turned away from her and disappeared around the corner, whatever issues he had wanted to discuss apparently forgotten.

Mom,

You always warned me that the bigger my secrets, the lonelier my life would be. I admit, until recently I didn’t really believe you. Now I’ve never felt lonelier despite spending so much time with a wonderful guy who seems to really like me more than “the model.”

It’s getting harder to keep my infertility a secret. If I were as good a person as him, I’d end things now or tell him the truth so he could understand why he should move on. But something always stops me.

I wish I could talk to you.

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

W
hen Cat and Vivi pulled up to the curb in front of Hank’s home, they discovered him shirtless and mowing the lawn. Glistening skin stretched across muscled, broad shoulders. Slick rivulets of sweat streamed down his tapered waist and disappeared beneath the waistband of low-slung gym shorts.

From behind, he was sex-on-a-stick hot. Then he switched directions to mow another strip of grass, treating Cat to a spectacular view of his washboard abs and the little indents near his hips. Seeing him half naked and sweaty intensified the desire twining through her limbs.

She saw his determined face and noticed the shadows under his eyes. Anxiety and exhaustion had replaced his customary soft grin and half dimple.

Jackson’s stunt last week had thrown Hank, and increased the pressure on Cat, too. Her brother’s typical cooling-off period extended several days, so she’d left him alone to brood rather than get into an argument. Her guilty conscience didn’t exactly motivate her to pick up the phone, either. For now, she focused on working fast so Hank didn’t need to dip into his savings.

She’d begged, borrowed, and stolen to secure that last-minute spot in Chicago. Not ideal, but at least they could showcase his talent and drum up interest on an international stage. At a bare minimum, her presence should garner
some
curiosity. Once people met Hank and saw his work, they’d surely fall in love with both.

Vivi’s photographs would lend a professional touch to their brochures, which must be ordered immediately if they were to have them ready for the show.

“This is the cutest house
ever
!” Vivi’s hands landed across her heart. “What a perfect little family home.”

“He grew up here.” Cat smiled thinking of the sweetness of Hank’s attachment to his home. Probably the same house where he’d prefer to raise his own children someday. Heaviness settled around her heart, because odds were his wife would be some other woman.

An image of that cute teacher, Amy, flickered in Cat’s mind, shooting a searing streak of jealousy straight to her toes. Scowling, Cat helped Vivi unload her photography equipment from the rental car while trying to shove the unpleasant thoughts aside.

Hank cut the mower’s engine when he saw them.

“Need a hand?” He jogged across the yard.

“No. We’re good.” Cat whipped out her camera-ready smile before he noticed her mood. “Just need to get started so Vivi can finish before David shows up to whisk her off to Block Island for the weekend.”

“Nice.” Hank kissed Vivi’s cheek hello before doing the same to Cat. Just the brush of his lips against her cheek sent a shower of tingles to her stomach. She caught Vivi watching them and, for a moment, wondered if maybe her friend was right. Maybe she should lay herself bare. The fact that her entire body instantly went numb at the mere idea told her she wasn’t ready. Hank gestured toward the door. “Helen’s inside. My mom should be resting for a while, so
hopefully you can finish up without disturbing her.”

“This is so exciting, Hank. You know I’m going to be your first cus
tomer. I want a dining table—a really enormous one for entertaining.”

Hank chuckled. “That’s the criteria? Big?”

“Enormous!” She grinned. “Design it however you like. I trust you completely.”

As did Cat.

“Thanks. You two might as well get started so you’re done before David arrives.” Hank led them inside and, after introducing them to Helen, said, “I’m going to finish up the yard, then run and pick up Jenny from her class. Good luck.” He waved and disappeared through the front door.

Once Vivi had taken dozens of shots of the coffee table and sideboard, she and Cat staged the dining table. They’d adjusted its position and the lighting, added flowers, and were moving the chairs out of the way when Helen wheeled Hank’s mother from her bedroom.

Mrs. Mitchell’s jaw hung open beneath eyes whose gaze exposed fear and confusion. Cat scanned the space—cluttered by the tripod, the strobe light, strangers, and displaced chairs—and guessed the chaos would further agitate the poor woman.

“Da!” Mrs. Mitchell’s garbled attempt to speak squeezed Cat’s heart.

Vivi quickly moved the cables out of the way.

“What? What?” The sharp edge of Mrs. Mitchell’s warbled voice indicated a bit of distress. Helen helped situate her on the sofa, but she began pointing at the strobe light and at Cat and Vivi.

“Should we stop?” Vivi asked Cat.

Cat and Hank
needed
these shots for the brochure, and they had no time for delays. “We only need
one
good shot of this table.” Cat looked at Helen for approval. Helen nodded, suggesting they could take a few more minutes. “Let’s hurry.”

Vivi adjusted the lights and snapped a few pictures, quietly directing Cat to move this or that. Cat kept glancing at Mrs. Mitchell, whose hazy gaze no longer appeared upset. As soon as they’d finished, they dismantled the photography equipment.

When they began moving the furniture back into place, Mrs. Mitchell flailed her arms and barked unintelligible words. At that very moment, a woman Cat presumed to be Meg walked into the house with Hank’s nephew, Eddie.

“What’s going on?” She shot a harsh glance at Cat and Vivi before kneeling at her mother’s feet and stroking her arm. “Hey, Mom. It’s me, Meggy. I brought Eddie.” Meg pushed the toddler in front of her mother, which settled Mrs. Mitchell. In fact, Cat thought she saw the older woman’s mouth curl into something resembling a grin. “Kiss Grandma hello, Eddie.”

Vivi continued packing up her equipment while Cat stood, frozen, watching Meg and her son, aka mini-Hank.

Every detail of their interaction stood out: the casual affection of Meg’s pat on Eddie’s little bum, the way she brushed a curl of his hair from his forehead, the similarity of their eyes and jaws. The mother-son bond, so pure and trusting, planted a lonely ache in Cat’s chest, the roots of which coiled around her lungs until she could barely breathe.

Meg’s stern glance over her shoulder broke the spell. The woman clearly resented Cat and Vivi’s presence.

As Meg stood, Cat caught
her
resemblance to Hank, too. Strong genetics, just like Cat and her siblings.

Meg’s sharp voice asked, “What’s going on here?”

Cat extended her hand. “Hi, Meg. I’m Hank’s business partner, Cat. This is my friend, Vivi. We were taking a few pictures of his work for our website and marketing brochure. Hank should be back any minute.”

Meg acknowledged Vivi with a brief nod and reluctantly shook Cat’s hand. “You’re Jackson’s sister . . . the model.”

Her mildly derisive tone surprised Cat.

“Yes.”

“I have no idea what business you’re talking about—” Meg began.

Hank hadn’t told his family? Cat could scarcely believe it. Why would he keep it a secret, especially when he had always been so aware of its effect on his mother and Jenny? She suppressed the queasy gurgle brewing in her gut.

“Rick?” Mrs. Mitchell called out, the creases in her face broadcasting anxiety as her glazed eyes scanned the room.

“He’s not here, Mom.” Meg focused on Cat again even as Eddie trotted to her and wrapped himself around her leg. “Since my brother’s not here to supervise, I’m going to ask you two to shut down for the day. Your work is upsetting my mother.”

“Of course. We were just wrapping up.” Cat flashed an apologetic smile that failed to melt Meg’s icy demeanor. “Your son is beautiful. He looks so much like you, and Hank.”

“Thanks.” Meg’s tone softened at the compliment. “He’s a joy and a handful at the same time.”

A handful Cat envied—a novel sensation considering she had never been particularly fixated on kids until she learned she couldn’t have any.

“Cat, I’ll take these things out to the car.” Vivi smiled in an attempt to ease the tension in the room. “I’ll wait outside for David while you finish up in here.”

Traitor
.

“I’m sorry we disturbed your mom.” Cat moved another chair back under the table. “We thought we’d be in and out before she woke up.”

“Mm hmm.” Meg lifted one of the dining chairs, miraculously able to maneuver around her son, who never left her side. Eddie warily stared at Cat, unaware of how the sight of him wrung her heart. “Why don’t you go with your friend and leave the house to me?”

“Let me help and we’ll have it finished in no time.” Cat smiled, but her attempt to befriend Meg failed.

Meg set the chair by the table. “Really, Cat, Helen and I have got it covered. It’s fine. Please just go.”

Unaccustomed to being summarily dismissed, Cat couldn’t stop herself from asking, “I’m sorry, but have I somehow offended you?”

“Aside from turning the house upside down and upsetting my mother?” Meg finally hoisted an insistent Eddie onto her hip.

Perhaps Cat should’ve backed away quietly, but Meg’s excessively rude tone made her defensive. This was
Hank’s
home, and
he’d
permitted the photo shoot. No one had meant to harm Mrs. Mitchell. “I’m very sorry about that. But I promise, you happened to walk in at the worst possible moment. Your mom came out of her room only five minutes before you arrived. Helen thought we could get one or two last shots without causing problems.”

“Fine. But you might as well be on your way since you’ve gotten whatever you came for. It’s Friday night, surely you have plans.”

“Actually, your brother and I had planned to discuss business tonight, among other things. He’s expecting me to be here when he gets back.” Meg’s presumption to kick Hank’s company out of his own house rankled her. Understandably, the woman wanted to protect her mother, but Cat sensed more to Meg’s cool attitude. “Would you prefer I wait in the kitchen, or is there an office where I can sit without disturbing you all?”

Sighing, Meg deposited Eddie in the corner of the living room and opened a drawer full of toys. Once she’d gotten him settled with blocks, she returned to the dining area.

“The first time Hank met you he’d been excited. Hopeful. Hank hasn’t had much to be hopeful about in years, so we were all thrilled. Then you dropped him for someone else. Now you’re here and getting involved in some kind of business together. That worries me.” Meg locked eyes with Cat. “He hasn’t mentioned it, which tells me he’s uncertain about it and
you
, too. So now I’m wondering what kind of shape he’ll be in when you disappoint him this time around.”

Meg’s pointed accusations struck hard, nearly knocking the breath from Cat. Fortunately, her self-assured persona could be summoned precisely to deal with this kind of situation.

“You certainly don’t beat around the bush.” A defensive tone wouldn’t help, and on some level Cat understood—applauded, even—Meg’s protectiveness. “I’ve apologized to Hank about last year. Then, when I saw all of his beautiful furniture, I suggested we could work together to sell it. Frankly, I think he’s excited to get out of construction.”

“He quit his job?” Meg’s wide eyes and high-pitched voice made Cat wary.

Cat chose to frame the situation in its most positive light. “He’s still working for Jackson now, but we already have one order for a dining table, so soon enough he’ll be spending all of his time doing what he loves. I’d think that would please you, considering everything he’s done for all of you.”

Meg absorbed the subtle censure and then tilted her head, her eyes quickly studying Cat from head to toe. “You’ve already got a successful career, so why get involved in such a small business?”

“I can’t model forever. I wanted a new challenge, and I admire your brother’s talent. He’s due a lucky break, and I can help him and his work get the recognition they deserve.”

“So there’s nothing more personal between you two?” Meg relaxed her stance.

“I’m not sure that’s your business, but Hank and I are very honest with each other.” As the words passed through her lips, she realized the lie. She hadn’t been completely honest, but she didn’t feel obligated to share her infertility yet. “We’re taking
everything
one step at a time. No promises or expectations.”

“I don’t know what kind of men and relationships you’re used to, but Hank’s not a player. He never was. So I’ll ask you nicely, once. Please don’t lead him on and break his heart.”

“I’m not leading him on.” At least on that score she could hold her head high. She’d been honest about her reservations regarding a relationship. All she’d promised him was to take things one day at a time. “We’re on the same page.”

“I seriously doubt that, but I hope I’m wrong.”

Cat rubbed her thumb over the creases between her eyebrows. Before she could form a response, Hank and Jenny walked in with David and Vivi.

Eddie jumped up and ran straight at Hank. In one fluid movement, Hank scooped up his nephew, twirled him upside down, and cradled him in his arms, tickling him. Eddie squealed with delight, and Hank looked just as happy.

Cat’s heart squeezed, like paper crumpled in someone’s fist. The bond between Hank and Eddie made obvious what she’d suspected all these weeks. She could hand him this business opportunity, pamper him with gifts, maybe even risk exposing herself completely to give him everything she had—body and soul. But even if that made him happy, none of it would give him a son or daughter who shared his eyes, his gentle attitude, his bloodline.

Grief chafed like sand inside a shoe.

“Rick?” Mrs. Mitchell’s eyes fixed on her son.

Hank set Eddie back on solid ground, graced his mom with a beautiful smile, and kissed her head. “It’s me, Hank. I’m right here.”

Mrs. Mitchell’s entire body relaxed in Hank’s presence. Could that mean, on some subconscious level, she
did
still recognize him? Was that why Hank insisted on keeping her close?

Hank glanced at Meg and Cat, then frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“It will be now that you’re home,” Meg said with affection before shooting him a shrewd look. “I’ll start dinner. Can’t wait to hear all about your new business venture.”

BOOK: Worth the Trouble (St. James #2)
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