Читать книгу Suite Temptation - Anita Bunkley - Страница 13

Lester Tremaine answered the phone at the beginning of the second ring as he always did, convinced that answering too quickly made him seem too anxious, and if he waited until after the third ring he risked missing the call. His method worked, and many of Andre’s clients complimented him on his prompt response to their telephone calls, as well as his polite greeting. A graduate student in engineering at Rice University, Lester assisted Andre in his research by sorting through the requirements of potential projects, organizing files, handling the mail and generally staying on top of the city and county regulations that affected licensing and building permits.

“A. Preaux and Associates,” Lester stated with the crisp assurance of a man in charge. “How may I help you?”

“Hello. This is Miss Cole, calling from Executive Suites, Incorporated, in San Antonio. Is Mr. Preaux available?”

Remaining silent, Lester ran the name of the caller and the company through his mind, certain he had never heard of either, and he didn’t recognize the voice. He had a gift for being able to recall every voice he had heard, whether in person, over the phone, on the radio or TV. This was someone new. “And this is in reference to…?” Lester prompted, doing his job. Andre trusted him to screen all calls and weed out sales people, telemarketers and those seeking information that was readily available on the A. Preaux and Associates Web site. No way was he going to bother Andre with things that he could take care of himself.

“I’d like to discuss a possible project in the San Antonio area with him.”

“Well, yes, of course. However, I’m sorry, he’s not in right now, but I’ll be happy to give him your message. Where can he reach you?” Lester inquired as he wrote down the information he knew Andre would need.

After clicking off, Lester studied the message with interest. Executive Suites? he mused, twirling his pen. A big hotel project, perhaps? An office building? He hoped so. Andre needed something right away because the contract with the city health-center complex had been awarded just yesterday to a large, well-known firm, leaving Andre very disappointed. All they had going now was a remodel of a small boutique that had suffered a minor fire and the strip shopping center for Richard Vail, an independent builder in town. After those projects, Andre’s calendar was open.

Lester was a talented twenty-six-year-old who was openly gay, meticulously thorough and dedicated to his work at A. Preaux and Associates. His slight build, creamy buff-colored skin and tightly curled copper-brown hair made him appear much younger than he was, and he still got carded whenever he ordered a drink.

During the two years that Lester had worked for Andre, he had come to think of his boss more as a colleague and good friend than simply his employer. They took on each project together, working as a team to bring it in on time and in a way that ensured a positive reception. Lester had been up front with Andre when he was first interviewed, telling him that he was gay and in a stable relationship with a partner. Andre had not flinched or looked at him as if he were an oddity or made any comment other than, “I’d be happy to have you work for me, if the hours fit your class schedule.” And after that, he and Andre never again mentioned the difference in their sexual orientations.

In fact, there were times when Lester felt as if Andre envied him for having found someone to love, and he often wished that Andre would go out on more dates. However, Lester stayed out of Andre’s personal life and went about his business, which revolved around his work, his classes and his live-in partner, Todd.

When Lester’s cell phone rang, it jolted him out of his hopeful musing and brought him back to the reality of the moment. He pulled his tiny phone from his shirt pocket, squinted at the caller ID, grinned, and then flipped open the cover immediately, eager to talk to Todd.

“You’re downstairs already? Are you calling from your car?” he asked in a rush of words, wondering how Todd, who managed a cellular phone kiosk in the Galleria, had maneuvered through noon-hour traffic so quickly. “Okay, I’m on my way out now,” Lester chirped, juggling the phone with one hand as he shut down his computer and grabbed his keys to the building with the other. Before leaving for his standing Wednesday lunch date with Todd, Lester made sure he placed the phone message from Executive Suites on Andre’s desk.

Andre placed the white bag containing his Southwest chicken wrap sandwich and diet soda in the center of his desk, preparing for a quick lunch before heading off to a meeting with a county commissioner who was unveiling plans for a new recreational facility in his district. He was anxious for the opportunity to bid on another well-funded government contract that would keep his name out front.

Just as he was about to take a sip of his drink, he noticed the message slip that Lester had propped against his telephone and picked it up. The note was neatly printed in Lester’s block-style script. Miss Kohl of Executive Suites, Inc? Who was that? Andre wondered, studying the area code. West Texas. New Braunfels? Kerrville? San Antonio, perhaps? He’d never heard of the company and didn’t recall ever having done business with a Miss Kohl. Hopefully, the call was worth returning.

“‘Interested in talking to you about a project,’” Andre read aloud as he set the piece of paper on top of a stack of folders and dove into his sandwich, thankful for the peace and quiet.

As much as Andre liked having Lester around and depended on his reliable assistance, today it felt good to have the office to himself. Lester was a valuable asset to the company, and Andre hoped to bring him on board full-time after he received his degree.

During the time Lester had been employed, Andre had gotten to know and like the young man. Surprising them both, they had become good friends, even though their lifestyles were worlds apart. They enjoyed discussing current books and movies and, of course, the latest trends in building.

Lester was a good listener, an extremely creative person who was bubbling with ideas, and he was easy to have around. In a two-man office, that was important, and Andre knew he could trust Lester to say or do what was in the best interest of the firm without worrying about him making huge mistakes.

However, at times like this, when Andre wasn’t swamped with work and things were slow, he had to focus on maintaining a positive attitude. His bank account was holding well for now, but his phones were much too silent, and, except for the space he’d carved out for himself on the top floor of his building, Prairie Towers remained in the same state it had been in when he bought it.

Andre shifted in his chair and surveyed the stripped walls of his office, the rough cement floor, and the open ceilings where pipes and wires showed through. His living suite was in good shape, but his office was begging for a redo. Andre knew he could turn Prairie Towers back into a showplace of an office building that would entice forward-thinking companies and small businesses to clamor for space. It was going to cost a chunk of cash and take a healthy line of credit to pull everything together, but he would do it, he had no doubt. He had hoped the city contract would come through, but since it hadn’t, he could stay busy enough with other projects and keep financial pressures from building.

Andre lifted a stack of folders containing pending projects off his file cabinet, planning to go through them one more time. He found a great deal of satisfaction in his work, and nothing was more exciting than juggling two or three projects at the same time while researching prospective bids on others. Working under pressure kept him energized and positive, but when things slowed down his mind tended to fill with a jumble of worries about failure and loss, bringing him face-to-face with his past. Why couldn’t he shake that faded old shadow of the man he used to be?

Andre’s father, Rex Preaux, had been a Louisiana roughneck oil-field worker who migrated from one end of the Gulf Coast to the other, taking dirty offshore jobs wherever he could get them. He divorced Andre’s mother, Lorene, and disappeared when Andre was four years old, leaving behind a son with a huge hole in his heart. That was the first time that Andre experienced a true sense of loss, and the pain never fully left him, not even when he eventually reunited with his father.

As he grew up, Andre blamed his mother for running his father off, refusing to believe her story, which he finally managed to persuade her to tell him—that Rex Preaux had left her for another woman. Andre’s disappointment fueled a deep rage against his mother until Rex finally returned to Baton Rouge three years later with his new wife, proving that Lorene had been right, because Rex also brought along his second son—a skinny three-year-old named Jamal.

Rex and his new family settled down in a house only four blocks from his first family, and Andre was happy to have his dad back. However, his happiness quickly vanished when he overhead Rex telling Lorene that he would never again set foot in her home or have anything to do with his first-born child. This declaration crushed Andre, and he again blamed his mother for failing to bring his father back into his life.

As they grew up, Jamal and Andre attended the same school, played basketball in the same neighborhood streets, and actually became very close. Too close, according to Lorene, who watched Andre imitate Jamal, whom she called a wild, impulsive child who was leading her son astray.

Like water draining into a sewer, Andre was quickly sucked into Jamal’s fast life, thrilled to be earning chunks of cash while hustling drugs with his baby brother. Jamal rose to the position of leader of their gang, and life was good, Andre thought, until the local police arrested him for selling drugs to an undercover cop: marijuana and cocaine.

Andre had been seventeen years old at the time of his arrest, young enough to be tried as a juvenile. The only good thing about the crushing blow was that his record would not become a permanent blight on his past. However, by the time the judge sentenced him to two years in Jena Juvenile Justice Center, the facility was full, he had turned eighteen, so it was off to federal prison to live among the hard-core adults who literally scared Andre straight.

During his incarceration, Andre experienced a deep sense of failure at having disappointed his mother, as well as himself. Choking back his sorrow, Andre turned his back on his rebellious brother and his emotionally distant father, and reached out for his mother’s forgiveness.

Lorene responded, arriving at the prison once a week with words of encouragement to fuel the flicker of hope that Andre struggled to keep burning. He didn’t want to turn into a mean, surly brute of a man, like those he faced in the prison walkways every day, and he never wanted to be locked in a cage again.

Lorene’s weekly visits were the only pleasant periods during Andre’s incarceration, but even they didn’t last long—six months into his sentence, she died unexpectedly of pneumonia, leaving Andre devastated with grief and furious that he couldn’t attend her funeral to say goodbye.

After serving his time, he left Baton Rouge, moved to Houston, and started working jobs on construction sites, leaving his family back in Louisiana and his stint in prison to fade from his memory. He was twenty-two years old when he decided to take the steps to make something of himself, and the first thing he did was get his GED. Next, he enrolled in college and earned a bachelor’s degree in civil engineering, finally becoming an architect in his midthirties, in charge of his life at last.

Andre knew what he wanted now: a major project that was well funded and highly visible, one that would ensure the future of A. Preaux and Associates. He couldn’t think of failing. He’d come too far to lose everything he’d worked so hard to accomplish.

After finishing lunch, Andre glanced through the mail that Lester had opened and neatly arranged it in a folder in order of importance. He set most of it aside, but did zero in on a pale-blue envelope, which he opened right away, glad to see a check for sixteen thousand dollars from the boutique owner whose shop he had recently redesigned. Next, he picked up the message from Miss Kohl and punched in the number, curious to see what she wanted.

“Andre Preaux returning a call to Miss Kohl,” he told the woman who answered. A soft Spanish ballad filled the line while he waited, making him smile. Something about the tune was gently pleasant and made a statement about the company. Innovative branding, he thought, knowing he would remember this company because of the song.

“Hello.” A woman’s voice interrupted the music. “This is Riana Cole.”

“Riana?” Andre repeated, gripping the phone as he leaned over his desk. A black hole opened in his stomach. “Riana Cole? C-O-L-E? Is that how you spell it?”

“Yes, Andre. It’s me. Your former classmate in Commercial Banking in Real Estate.”

And former lover, too, he thought, swept back four years by the sound of her voice. The stream of longing that hit him, caught him by surprise. He had thought he was over her, and would never feel this way again, but here it was—that sensual mix of joy and desire that had captured his heart back then. “I’m…I’m surprised,” he began, unsure of what else to say. “I never would have dreamed I was calling you.” He eased lower in his chair and sucked in a long breath, anxious to regain his composure, wondering just what she wanted.

Surely, she must think I hate her for walking away, for not giving our relationship a fighting chance, he thought. But it was her decision to end it, and all I did was honor her wishes, as difficult as it was.

“You work for Executive Suites?” he commented, finding his voice. “I thought you were a VP at Sweetwater Finance,” he pushed ahead, not wanting to get caught up in thinking about their past.

“I don’t work for Executive Suites, I own it. The VP position at Sweetwater didn’t work out, so I created my own company and hired myself,” Riana replied in a surprisingly light tone, going on to tell him about her executive search firm.

The sound of her voice stirred up old emotions, making it difficult for Andre to concentrate on what Riana was saying. As he listened, her face emerged slowly into his mind. The way her fine brown hair swayed across her cheek. Those soulful eyes that had made him go weak whenever he’d looked into them. Her slender hands on his back, trailing fingers down his spine. The easy way she had fit with him. A lump of regret clogged his throat, holding back the words that he knew would mean nothing to her, even if he managed to say them.

“Good for you,” Andre told her when she finished filling him in on the past four years. The fact that she hadn’t mentioned marriage or children or even a serious personal relationship didn’t surprise Andre. Riana had accomplished exactly what she’d set out to do: become a successful businesswoman. Clearly, she had not let anything or anyone compromise her dream.

“…so I’m recruiting a leader for Allen’s design team on a minimum-security prison for women and juveniles,” Riana was saying.

Suddenly, Riana’s words jerked Andre back to the conversation. “What’s that again?” he asked, head tilted to the side. “You said you want to interview me for a possible job with the Allen Group?” Now, he pushed aside the emotional effects of his telephone reunion with Riana, eager to talk business.

“Yes, George Allen has contracted with my executive search firm to screen and recommend an architect/planner to lead the design team on a moderate-sized prison compound,” Riana told Andre.

“Really? Why me?” he wanted to know, aware that Allen could get anyone he wanted. What architect or space planner wouldn’t jump at the chance to work with the well-respected builder?

“Apparently, Allen wants a fresh approach and he liked what you did with the senior citizen project for which you won the Space City Improvement Award.”

“Really?” Andre commented, still unable to believe he was talking to Riana.

“Yes. You’ve done very well for yourself, Andre. You have your own firm, and I see you’re located near the museum district.”

“Right. Prairie Towers. I own the building,” he replied with pride.

“Very nice. You’re certainly moving in the right direction. Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Andre managed, “but I’m only just beginning. I’ve got great plans for my company.”

“I’m sure you do. And George Allen wants to be a part of your plan. He’s considering several candidates, but you’re at the top of his list. And that’s why I’m calling, Andre. This is strictly business. Allen would like me to interview you and report back to him. That’s it. So, as far as I’m concerned this is only another job. One that I’d like to complete with as few complications as possible,” Riana finished in a tone so cool it made Andre flinch.

I guess the sweet, passionate woman I fell in love with has vanished, Andre surmised, deciding to play the game her way. The position she had outlined was exactly the kind of project he had been praying would come his way, but could he trust Riana to be fair and impartial when it came to recommending him? Or would she simply go through the motions to satisfy her client, and not truly promote him as a serious candidate?

Would she build up his hopes, only to draw back and leave him hanging, as she had done once before?

Proceed with caution, Andre told himself as he listened to Riana lay out her plan.

“It all sounds very interesting,” he admitted to Riana. “However, I need a lot more information before I could even consider such a project,” he stated, not wanting her to think that he was sitting around waiting for something to fall his way. “Besides, I’m swamped with proposals right now. There’re quite a few projects that I’m considering.”

“I understand. Just say yes to an interview, okay? Allen wants me to have a face-to-face with you, and if you agree to meet with me, I’ll be happy to drive into Houston tomorrow.”

It pleased Andre to hear an edge of desperation in Riana’s voice. He smiled to himself. She might be trying to play it cool, but she needed him and he had the upper hand.

As much as he would like to snag a job with the Allen Group, he wasn’t going to make Riana’s task an easy one. She hadn’t made things easy for him when she simply vanished out of his life, so why should he worry about her feelings now?