The next afternoon after she got off work, Bernie drove to the entrance of Creekwood Apartments, both surprised and annoyed to see that the workers had finished installing the new gate. It was closed and locked. Opening it required sliding a keycard, but since she didn’t have a card yet, she rolled down her window and punched the call button on the console. Waited several seconds. Punched it again. Waited again. She’d just reached out to push it a third time when she heard a voice boom through the speaker.
“For God’s sake, will you keep your pants on? I’m coming!”
Charmin. Sounding even crabbier than usual.
“Charmin. It’s Bernie. Can you open the gate?”
“Crap. It shouldn’t be locked yet. Nobody’s got their cards. I don’t have time for this. I’m too damned busy.”
Busy? What on earth was keeping Charmin busy? Was she trying to watch All My Children, order a pizza, and play Spider Solitaire all at once?
“Charmin?”
“Okay, okay! There. That should do it.”
Bernie heard a click, and the gate swung open in front of her. She drove through it and started toward her apartment, only to let curiosity get the better of her. It was a little early to give Charmin a rent check, but it gave Bernie a really good reason to drop in and see what was contributing to her bad humor.
Bernie parked in front of the manager’s office. When she went inside, she got the shock of her life. The TV was off, and Charmin’s butt was actually out of the chair. She was digging through a file cabinet, the phone pressed to her ear. She looked as if she was actually… working?
“Yes, damn it, you have to be here at eight in the morning,” Charmin snarled into the phone as she pulled a file from the cabinet. “Because those are your hours, Miguel!” She paused, listening, then raised her voice. “Since you hired on here, that’s since when! Get your ass in here first thing in the morning, do you hear me? If I gotta be here, you gotta be here!”
She walked back to her desk, slammed down the phone, and tossed the file folder on top of a stack of folders already there. She ran a hand through her dark, frizzy hair and blew out an angry breath.
“Bad day?” Bernie asked nonchalantly.
“How is stuff supposed to get done tomorrow if my maintenance man just wanders in here late like he always does, two hours after he finishes his Egg McMuffin?” She picked up a piece of paper from her desk and waved it. “I got a complaint list a mile long!”
“What’s new about that? You always have a complaint list a mile long.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t used to have an owner crawling up my ass to make sure it all got done.”
“Wait a minute,” Bernie said, suddenly coming to attention. “The new owner? He’s the one making you do all this?”
“He e-mailed me this list this morning,” she said. “Some of this stuff I’ve never even heard about, and he wants all of it done ASAP. Today was hell. Appliance deliveries. Unstopping johns. Replacing more of those damned handrails. I had to coordinate all of it. And starting tomorrow, a painting crew is coming in.”
Bernie couldn’t believe it. Jeremy had decided to renovate this place?
The most amazing feeling of delight and satisfaction shivered through her, bringing a smile to her lips. She didn’t know exactly why he’d changed his mind. She only knew that right at that moment, she was very, very glad he had. And the fact that it was driving Charmin nuts was just icing on the cake.
“What are you smiling about?” Charmin snapped.
“The fact that things are getting done around here. That’s a good thing.”
“Good, my ass.” Charmin tossed the list back to her desktop, practically snarling with disgust. “I missed All My Children today because I’ve been running around taking care of all this crap for the tenants.”
“Isn’t that what a manager is supposed to do?”
“If I wanted to actually work, I’d go get a real job.” She picked up the remote. “I missed one of my shows today already. If he thinks I’m missing Bridezillas, he can think again.” She turned her back to Bernie and hit the button to turn on the television. “I’m telling you, the guy’s a major dumbass who doesn’t know a damned thing about business. Why else would he spend all that money on a dump like this?” She made a scoffing noise. “What’s he trying to do? Turn this piece of crap complex into Buckingham Palace?”
“Excuse me?”
Bernie spun around at the sound of the man’s voice. And when she saw who the voice belonged to, the satisfaction and delight she’d felt earlier took a quantum leap.
The remote still in her hand, Charmin glared at him over her shoulder. “Who are you?”
“Who am I?” Jeremy took a few steps forward, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets. “I’m the dumbass who’s spending all that money to try to turn this piece of crap complex into Buckingham Palace.”
Charmin spun the rest of the way around, her eyes snapping open wide.
“And you must be Charmin,” he said.
For maybe the first time ever, Charmin seemed unable to find her voice. Her mouth just hung open, as if her jaw had finally snapped from overuse. Behind her on the TV, a blond Bridezilla was insisting that the doves released at her wedding had to be dyed Tiffany blue.
“Charmin?” Bernie said, nodding toward the television. “You’re missing your show.”
Charmin quickly pointed the remote, silenced the TV, then slowly turned back around to face Jeremy, swallowing hard.
“Can I… help you?” Charmin said.
“Nope. This is something I can handle all by myself. You’re fired.”
Charmin’s jaw dropped. “Fired? You can’t fire me!”
“I just did. And I want you out now.”
“Now?” She looked around the office, then zeroed in on the TV. “But my stuff—”
“Write down a forwarding address. Your things will be delivered within twenty-four hours.”
Her eyes narrowed angrily. “If you think you’re screwing me out of severance pay—”
“You’ll get two weeks and whatever vacation pay you have coming. But I want you out now.”
“This is discrimination!”
Jeremy drew back. “Excuse me? Discrimination?”
“You’re firing me because I’m a woman! I’m going to sue!”
He looked at her dumbly for a moment, then turned to Bernie, shaking his head with disbelief. “God, she’s awful.”
“I believe I told you that,” Bernie said.
“From now on, when you have a point like that to make, make it a little stronger, will you?” He turned back to Charmin. “Out.”
Charmin’s face was quickly turning purply red with anger, her teeth clenched so tightly her molars were in danger of cracking.
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!” Charmin said. She scribbled her address on a sticky note pad, grabbed her purse, and headed out of the office.
“God, I hope she sues,” Jeremy said, as Charmin slammed the door behind her. “I’d get all kinds of satisfaction watching my attorneys take her down in court.”
“If you need somebody to attest to her incompetence on the job, I’d be happy to testify.”
“And I’d be happy to take you up on that.” He picked up the to-do list from Charmin’s desk. “I’ll send somebody over here from my facilities department to fill in as manager for a while until I can get somebody in here permanently.”
“It’ll be hard to find the right person to manage this place,” Bernie said. “Lots of work, but not exactly a lot of prestige.”
“I know of an agency that can do some looking for me. I’ll have them solicit some candidates and send me their resumes.”
“So,” Bernie said, taking a few casual steps toward Jeremy. “You’ve decided to renovate the place.”
“Yes.”
“You said that was like putting a Band-Aid on a severed artery.”
“As it turns out, I can get a big tax break for neighborhood revitalization,” he said, focusing on the list he held. “Then once the renovation is finished, I can raise the rents for new tenants. My accountant put together a five-year plan that shows that this place could actually be a moneymaker.”
“Look me in the eye and say all that.”
Jeremy looked up. “What?”
“God, you’re a terrible liar.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re going to lose your shirt on this place, aren’t you?”
Jeremy turned back to the list, and for a long time, he didn’t say anything. “I know you’ve never seen my bedroom closet,” he said finally, “but losing one shirt is hardly a problem for me.”
“You’re not the kind of man who takes kindly to losing anything. So what happened to this just being business?”
“If I don’t fix this place, you’ll stay on my back for the rest of my life, so what choice did I have?”
“You always have a choice.”
“But what would people say if they knew I owned this place and it looked like a slum?”
“You don’t give a damn what people think, remember?”
“I need a business loss,” he said. “Something to offset the obscene amount of money I make every year.”
“Well, this place ought to give it to you. I’m starting to think you really are the dumbass Charmin said you were.”
He shrugged offhandedly. “Maybe I am.”
“And maybe you’re finally doing something good just for the hell of it.”
“Knock it off, Bernie. I’m no saint.”
She took a few more steps toward him. “True,” she said, her voice softening. “But you’re not quite the sinner I thought you were, either.”
He glanced up and met her eyes, then looked away again.
“I’m only thirty-seven years old,” he said. “Where sinning’s concerned, I’m just getting started.”
“Glad to hear it. If you didn’t do a little sinning now and again, you wouldn’t be you.”
“You’re starting to aggravate me. Better quit while you’re ahead.”
She smiled. “Okay. I’m out of here.”
She dropped her rent check on the desk, gave him one last smile, and headed for the door. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this good. He was going to take care of these residents. Whether he knew it or not, now that she’d seen this tiny glimpse inside him, he could never completely hide from her again.
A few evenings later, Jeremy sat in the back of the limousine, sipping Scotch and staring out the window at the dusky Dallas skyline as Carlos headed for the Lone Star Museum of Art. The starkness of that particular museum—a monolith of concrete, soaring ceilings, and hollow, empty space—had always depressed Jeremy, and the prospect of viewing the new exhibit of pre-Columbian art tonight didn’t do much to instill the warm fuzzies into him, either.
Carlos pulled the limo to the curb in front of the museum. Max got out first and scanned the area like the good bodyguard he was. Jeremy got out of the car and walked into the museum with Max in his wake. Max moved off to take his position against one of those cold concrete walls, which seemed to suit his personality just fine. Maybe if he stood there without moving, partygoers would mistake him for one of the chunky, lifesize terra cotta figures in the exhibit, then gasp in horror when they saw him breathe. That might liven things up.
“So you decided to come after all.”
Jeremy turned to see Phil standing behind him holding a martini.
“Why, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Jeremy said, grabbing a glass of wine off a passing waiter’s tray. “You know how much I love pre-Columbian art.”
“Right. You love pre-Columbian art like a dog loves fleas. You’re here because Alexis promised to introduce you to a beautiful woman.”
“Yes. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
“Of course, ever since the news that you’re going to be a father, Alexis thinks the woman of your dreams is already right under your nose.”
Jeremy sighed. As soon as Phil told Alexis that Jeremy was going to be a father, she assumed a marriage was also going to be in the works. It took Jeremy a good thirty minutes to assure her that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t until he agreed to meet the astonishingly beautiful, accomplished woman Alexis had in mind for him that she finally decided he meant what he said.
“That’s because Alexis believes in fairy tales,” Jeremy said. “Bernie is the mother of my children. That’s it.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I told you I’m not interested in her.”
“Yeah? You were interested in her at least once.”
“That was a mistake.”
“So she was just a one-night stand like all the rest?”
Like all the rest? Hardly. Even weeks later, Jeremy could still close his eyes and conjure up every nerve-zapping moment.
“Pretty much,” Jeremy said, looking away.
“I think you’re lying.”
Jeremy whipped back around. “What the hell makes you think I’d have any interest in Bernie?”
“Because she’s the only woman I ever saw who refused to take any crap from you.”
“And that’s supposed to be a good thing?”
Phil just smiled and took another sip of his martini.
“Jeremy! It’s about time you showed up!”
Jeremy turned to see Alexis approaching, impeccably dressed as always.
“Hello, Alexis,” he said, as they exchanged air kisses. “You’re looking beautiful this evening.”
“You’re such a flatterer. I never believe a word you say.”
“Now you’re hurting my feelings.”
“Impossible. You’re a cold, cold man, Jeremy. At least that’s what the press is saying.”
“All that acquisition stuff? Now, you know that’s just business. Sybersense is simply doing what’s best for its shareholders.”
“You’ll get no argument from me,” Alexis said. “There’s nothing I like seeing more than our stock going through the roof.”
“And where is this woman I just have to meet?” Jeremy said.
“Right over there,” Alexis said, nodding her head across the room.
When Jeremy turned to look, he had to hand it Alexis. The woman was a knockout. Even at a distance, he could tell her eyes were a brilliant blue. She wore an emerald green dress that showcased her long, lithe body, and her chin was tilted up a degree or two, highlighing her sharp, patrician features.
Alexis waved at the woman, and she turned to look at them. Those ice-blue eyes instantly locked onto Jeremy’s. She smiled and walked over, her gaze playing over Jeremy with the kind of self-assurance that only the most beautiful women in the world displayed.
Alexis introduced the woman as Madeline Rayburn. One of her perfectly manicured hands was wrapped around a glass of Chardonnay, and she shook Jeremy’s hand with the other.
“Madeline is new in town,” Alexis said. “She’s the museum’s new development director.”
Jeremy smiled. “Congratulations.”
“I’m sure you remember me telling you about Jeremy,” Alexis said, as if she hadn’t already spilled everything to Madeline, from his stock holdings to his favorite restaurant to his underwear preference. “He’s the CEO of Sybersense.”
“Yes,” she said coyly. “Of course I remember.”
Alexis leaned in and spoke confidentially. “He’s also a shameless womanizer. Be careful, Madeline. He’ll break your heart and not think twice about it.”
Madeline let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, I suppose some men are just born to play the field.”
“True,” Alexis said, shooting a glance at Jeremy. “And some men just haven’t found the right woman yet.”
“And which one of those might you be?” Madeline asked Jeremy.
He gave her a suggestive smile. “I suppose that’s up to you to find out.”
“Well, it looks as if my work here is done,” Alexis said. “You two get to know each other.” She looped her arm through Phil’s. “The mayor just arrived,” she told him. “Let’s meet and greet.”
As they walked away, Madeline moved closer, and after only a few minutes of conversation, Jeremy had to hand it to Alexis. She was right. Madeline was beautiful, cultured, well-spoken, and well-educated, not to mention oozing with the kind of sex appeal that made him wonder how she’d gotten to her late twenties without a ring on her finger. Basically, she was all a man could want in a woman in one very attractive package. So why, as he imagined kissing her, undressing her, running his hands over her body, did he feel nothing?
Okay, so he felt something. He’d have to be dead and buried to feel nothing. But while Madeline might be a little more intelligent than most, when he could afford to be with the most stunning women in town, pretty soon there was nothing unique about any of them and he found himself wanting more.
He found himself wanting Bernie.
She worked right here at the museum. Day shift, but that didn’t stop him from imagining her looking at him right now on one of the security cameras. If she were to see him, she’d see Madeline, too. And he could only imagine what she’d be thinking.
Come on, Bridges. Tall, blond, and gorgeous? Isn’t it time you climbed out of that rut?
She’s after your money, you know. They all are. Golddiggers are a dime a dozen.
How many times do I have to tell you? The bigger the boobs, the smaller the brain.
God, how he missed having her with him for hours on end, tossing out sarcastic remarks like candy at a Mardi Gras parade.
Madeline was saying something about one of the pieces in the exhibit, but all Jeremy could hear were his own thoughts. The memory of that night in the safe room flashed through his mind. To say he had a preoccupation about making love to Bernie again was a serious understatement.
He even knew exactly how it would go.
It would be different next time. He’d make sure of that, because next time he’d be running the show. Of course, she’d protest at first, but only because they were oil and water, fire and ice, with the push-pull between them practically built into their DNA. But after a single sizzling kiss, her resistance would be gone, and he’d be controlling every moment. Choreographing every heartbeat. Dialing back the animosity. Turning up the sensuality. Shifting the furious heat of their first encounter into a slow, scorching feast for the senses. He’d take her slowly, deliberately, even as she begged for more, but he had all night to make love to her, and the next night, and the next…
“Jeremy? Jeremy.”
He snapped to attention. Madeline was looking at him as if he’d grown two heads.
“You seem a little lost in thought,” she said.
“Uh… yeah. Sorry. What were you saying?”
“Never mind. I think we need to change the subject.” She smiled seductively and inched closer, reminding Jeremy of his promise to Alexis to show up and play nice, which meant he needed to put Bernie out of his mind. He’d worked endlessly these past several years to have the business, the money, the cars, the houses, and the jet-set lifestyle he’d always wanted. But the number-one hallmark of his success was the undivided attention of beautiful women, and he was going to try to do everything he could tonight to enjoy it.
“Hey, girl,” Lawanda said as she bustled through the door. “Thanks for staying till I could get here.”
“No problem,” Bernie said, already gathering up her things so she could go home. “Did you get everything taken care of?”
“Done,” Lawanda said, plopping down her cooler and her McDonald’s sack. Evidently this was Big Mac night.
“Did you like the lawyer?” Bernie asked.
“Yep. Chick’s badass. By the time she’s through with my soon-to-be ex, the son of a bitch won’t know what hit him.” She dug through her cooler, pulled out a Red Bull, and popped the top. “Anything happen on your shift I need to know about?”
“Nope,” Bernie said, sticking her iPhone into her purse. “Boring as always. Oh, wait. Some kid tried to climb up on one of the mummy cases. I radioed Carl to take care of it. That was my excitement for the day.”
“Well, things are getting ready to pick up here in a minute,” Lawanda said, clicking one of the monitors. “Yep. Lookie there. Fundraiser tonight. The rich folks are showing up already.”
Bernie glanced at the monitor, which showed one elegant vehicle after another dropping the cream of Dallas’s social crop at the museum’s front entrance. The scene was far too familiar to Bernie, which was why, for the past twenty minutes, she had done only cursory checks of that camera, as well as those in the atrium where the event was being held. Now that Lawanda had finally shown up, she could get the hell out of there.
“It’s kinda like watching the stars show up to the Oscars,” Lawanda said. “Stick around and we’ll rate the women’s gowns.”
“No, thanks,” Bernie said.
“Better yet,” Lawanda said, switching the screen to an interior view of the atrium, “we can pick us out a couple of rich men.”
“Right. Those men wouldn’t give us the time of day.”
“Hey! Don’t you go raining on my parade. As of tonight, I’m ready to do some man shopping.”
“Well, good luck,” Bernie said, pulling her backpack up to her shoulder and heading for the door. “I hope you find the guy you’re looking for.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Lawanda said. “That didn’t take long.”
Bernie turned back. “What?”
“There he is.”
“Who?”
“My dream man, of course.”
Bernie’s eyes flicked automatically to the screen just as Lawanda zoomed in, and what she saw nearly made her faint dead away.
Jeremy?