Читать книгу Surrender My Heart - Kayla Perrin - Страница 13

Chapter 4

The entire drive to the Compassion for Families offices, Natalie felt as if she had a bowling ball sitting in her stomach. At least ten times she contemplated—and dismissed—the idea of turning around and heading back home.

How silly are you being? she asked herself as she parked beside a sleek BMW. What—are you incapable of working in a professional capacity with a man like Michael Jones?

That was the thought that had her getting out of her car and making her way up the steps of a large, older home with a wraparound porch. Clearly, this was not only the home where the families in need resided, but also the building that held the charity’s offices.

Natalie drew in a breath as she stood before the door, then reminding herself that she was acting like a schoolgirl, she opened it.

She was immediately greeted by a woman who had to be Penelope—a five foot nothing African-American female with a short afro, light brown skin and a sprinkling of freckles on her nose.

“Natalie Hart,” the woman said, extending her hand. “I’m Penelope Rand. So nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, as well,” Natalie said. Then she looked beyond Penelope, in the direction of a woman who was crossing the far end of the hall with a tray of cupcakes.

Penelope turned to follow Natalie’s line of sight. “That’s Cynthia. She’s one of our staff members. She bakes the most extraordinary desserts.”

“The house certainly smells lovely,” Natalie said.

“Would you like a cupcake?” Penelope asked.

“No, I’m fine.” Natalie waved off the suggestion. “Leave them for the children.”

“All right, then. This way.” Penelope gestured to the door on the immediate right.

Natalie started into the room—and stopped dead in her tracks. Though she had known she would see Michael Jones in the room, laying her eyes on him again was like a shock to her system.

Good Lord, the man was so…

“I know, I’m sorry the office is so cluttered,” Penelope said, mistaking the reason for Natalie’s hesitation. “Please bear with the mess.”

“It’s fine,” Natalie said, avoiding looking directly at Michael. But as she put one foot deliberately before the other and walked farther into the room, she could feel Michael’s gaze on her.

His eyes were burning her skin. She felt flushed and didn’t know why. And strangely, she found her breathing had become shallow.

Embarrassment, she told herself. That’s what it is. And she knew that was true. After yesterday—

“I’ve cleared space at the end of the conference table,” Penelope explained, jarring Natalie from her thoughts about the day before. Penelope began walking toward the table, and as Natalie feared, she took a seat opposite Michael, which left Natalie one option—to sit beside him.

“Michael Jones, this is Natalie Cooper—I mean Hart. Natalie, this is Michael Jones, the local football player I was telling you about.”

“Pleasure to see you again,” Michael said, eyeing her up and down as if she were a juicy steak.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Penelope said, her expression one of confusion as she took a seat opposite them. “I didn’t realize that you knew each other.”

“We don’t,” Natalie said.

To that, Michael raised an eyebrow. “Actually, we met yesterday.”

“Briefly,” Natalie clarified. “A chance encounter on the street.”

Natalie sat and pulled her chair in, trying her best to ignore the uncomfortable sensation that came from knowing that Michael wasn’t taking his eyes off of her.

“She’s right,” Michael agreed. “We didn’t enjoy the pleasure of a formal meeting.” He extended his hand to her. “I’m Michael Jones.”

Natalie turned to face him, knowing that it would look suspicious if she didn’t. And she saw that the edges of Michael’s full lips were twitching. He was trying not to smile. Clearly, he was enjoying having the unlikely upper hand. Yesterday, she had thought she would be rid of him forever when she walked away from him on the street, and yet here he was, in her life again.

But Natalie couldn’t hardly let him know that he was getting to her on any level, so she took his hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you, Michael,” she said, keeping her voice dispassionate.

“Very nice to meet you.”

Natalie swallowed—hard. She felt a rush of heat. That bedroom voice, those sexy eyes…why on earth was he getting to her? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen an attractive man before.

But Michael Jones wasn’t simply attractive. He was hot.

He’s a block of ice, you’re a block of ice, Natalie said mentally, trying to trick herself. Because no matter how hot this man was, the last thing she wanted to do was look twice at another professional athlete.

Least of all look twice at one who was giving her the bedroom eye as though he hoped to make her his next conquest.

Nope, Natalie had learned her lesson the first time around, and would not be foolish enough to make the same mistake twice.

What was the saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

Not that Michael had ever fooled her, but she had already been fooled by his species: the professional athlete. Women threw themselves at men like him. Stalked them at their away games. Tried to sneak into their hotel rooms. Got hired as wait staff where they ate their meals. Natalie knew all the tricks. Heck, Vance had joked about the various ploys of these women, making Natalie believe he was immune to their charms. And yet Vance had betrayed her, despite his vows to love, cherish and be faithful.

She supposed it was only inevitable that men like Vance cheated. A man was only human, after all, and how long could he realistically resist temptation when it was always in his face?

Penelope cleared her throat, and when Natalie looked at her, she was horrified to see a knowing smirk on the woman’s

face—the kind of smirk that said she believed Natalie had just been checking Michael out.

“I checked out your charity on the internet,” Natalie said, needing to say something to get Penelope’s mind off of the track it was clearly on. “I’m really impressed. For a small charity, you have been able to do incredible work.”

“And we hope to continue to do that work,” Penelope said. “Which is why both of you are here.”

Natalie nodded. Then, despite herself, she glanced at Michael again, and saw that his gaze was still intent on her. It was the kind of gaze that left a woman feeling totally exposed.

She jerked her head away. She could already tell that this Michael character was the type of guy used to getting what he wanted. First of all, he was gorgeous. Certainly not the kind of guy most women would kick out of the bed in the morning. Add that to the fact that he was a successful athlete, and he was all but irresistible to most women.

The way Michael kept checking her out made it obvious to Natalie that he thought all he had to do was give her a dose of his smoldering looks and his dazzling smile and she would be putty in his hands.

“Now, the date for the gala event is August 12,” Penelope said. “Which gives us just about six weeks. Unlike some of the events we’ve done before, this will be a celebrity event. I would like both of you to be cohosts for the event. I’ve seen video of you on the internet, Natalie, and you’re a natural with a microphone. And of course, you are, too, Mike,” she added amiably. “With the two of you headlining the event, we’re sure to have a great turnout.”

“What exactly do you mean by headlining?” Natalie asked. “Do you want us to emcee, or provide some sort of entertainment?”

“Oh, no, I don’t expect you to be the entertainment—unless of course you have some jokes you’d like to share—but your job will be to host,” Penelope explained. “You’re both celebrities, you both speak well. You’ll emcee the evening, introduce each new segment for the night, be it the auction items or the various entertainment.”

Natalie nodded. “Gotcha.”

The phone rang, but Penelope stayed seated at the conference table, not getting up to go to the desk and answer it. “I’m working on some of the entertainment as we speak.” Penelope spoke over the ringing phone. “I’ve made some calls to a comedian, a local church choir, a popular dance troupe and some others. So far, only the gospel choir has confirmed, but I’m hopeful the others will, as well.”

“We’ll follow up with whomever you’ve reached out to,” Michael said.

“Excellent,” Penelope said. “I’m sure that hearing from both of you will inspire people to say yes. I want a real high-class event that will justify the cost of the ticket price.”

“You know, I could ask my sister if she’ll perform,” Natalie said. “Deanna Hart.”

Penelope’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes, please do. That would be fantastic. I didn’t know if I should ask, given that you all are grieving, but having her on the lineup would be amazing. I love her music. She has such a beautiful voice.”

Natalie felt a pinch of pride. Though Deanna wouldn’t know it, Natalie had bought the three CDs she’d put out over the past eight years. She may not have been speaking to her sister at the time, but she had been proud of her success nonetheless.

“I’ve got some musician friends I could talk to, as well,” Michael said. “I’m sure they’d be happy to lend their support.”

“And speaking of dancers,” Natalie began, “I have a friend in San Antonio who is a very talented ballet dancer. She leaves audiences breathless, seriously. I can give her a call.”

Penelope’s wide grin indicated not only the woman’s happiness, but her relief. “I knew you both were the perfect ones for the job. I’m so glad I ran into you, Michael, because that gave me the idea to have celebrities headline this event. This is going to be our most successful event ever, I just know it!”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a celebrity,” Natalie said sheepishly. Her only claim to fame was having been married to Vance Cooper.

“Of course you’re a celebrity,” Penelope said. “Athletes’ wives are famous, too—especially ones who grew up in Cleveland. And with the amount of charitable work you do, you’re also good people.”

Natalie smiled. “Thank you.”

The phone rang again. Penelope sighed. “I really ought to get that.”

“No problem,” Michael said, rising from his seat. “You’ve got a lot to do. I think Natalie and I should take it from here, sit down and brainstorm and then get back to you.”

Penelope held up a finger as she hurried to the phone. She answered it and asked the person on the other end of the line to wait for a moment.

Then she returned to the table, where she handed Natalie and Michael a folder each. “I need to take this phone call. But these are my initial plans, which the two of you can peruse. Have a gander, brainstorm together and we’ll talk at a future date.”

“Oh, sure.” Natalie stood and accepted Penelope’s proffered hand. But she was suddenly out of sorts. She wasn’t thrilled about the idea of her and Michael having to spend time together alone. She would prefer to do the planning with Penelope involved.

Michael shook Penelope’s hand, and then turned to Natalie when Penelope went back to the phone.

“Why don’t we talk outside?” he suggested in a low voice, careful not to speak too loudly and disturb Penelope.

“Sure,” Natalie agreed.

Michael gestured for her to walk in front of him, so she left the office first. Getting to the double front doors moments later, Natalie reached for the right handle. But her hand collided with Michael’s as he reached to do the same thing.

“Allow me,” Michael said.

Natalie drew in a deep breath. The touch of Michael’s hand against her skin, the deep timbre of his voice…he was doing this on purpose. Trying to see if he could get to her.

But she said nothing, just stepped onto the porch, where the heat of the late-June day enveloped her. But that was nothing compared to the heat she saw smoldering in Michael’s eyes when she turned around and looked up at him.

“So,” he said.

Natalie’s pulse picked up speed—and then she felt disgusted with herself. Good Lord, what was wrong with her? Why was this man getting to her on any level? So what if he was seriously fine, with a body chiseled to perfection?

Obviously Natalie needed a distraction from the reality of Vance and his betrayal—but seriously, Michael Jones? There couldn’t be a worse man to feel even a remote attraction to.

Natalie cleared her throat and averted her gaze. “I’ll take a look at Penelope’s plans, you do the same and let’s talk in a couple of days. Give me your card, and I’ll call you.”

“Actually, I was thinking more like dinner. Tonight.”

“Dinner?” She narrowed her eyes at him. A beat passed. Then another. Then Michael’s lips curved in a smile.

Natalie couldn’t believe his gall. “Are you seriously asking me out on a date?”

Michael’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Actually, I was suggesting we have dinner in order to discuss some ideas for this fundraiser. But if you want to make it a romantic date…”

Natalie swallowed, feeling foolish. “Oh.”

“How about seven o’clock? Right where we met on the street yesterday. I have a restaurant there, A Taste of Soul. We can meet there. Have a relaxing meal. Enjoy some Dixieland jazz.”

Though it shouldn’t have, Natalie’s heart began to beat a little faster. Michael had said this wasn’t a romantic date, but what he was describing certainly sounded like it. Natalie could only imagine his plan of attack: feed her a delicious meal, give her a few drinks, allow the music to set the mood, then suggest that they head back to his place.

She had fallen for that game once before. She wouldn’t again.

“We can speak over the phone,” she told him. “I think we should at least look over Penelope’s plans separately before we come together to discuss ideas.”

“Trying to run away from me again?”

Natalie’s right eyebrow shot up. “Excuse me? I just presented you with a practical plan. How on earth did you deduce—”

“All that matters is that I know your name,” Michael said, and it took Natalie a moment to realize that he was quoting her words from yesterday. “I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever been rejected quite like that before.”

So that’s what this was about. “I see I bruised your ego—”

“Ouch—”

“Which wasn’t my intent,” she continued. “So for that, I apologize.” She began to dig through her purse. Staying here and engaging Michael in more chitchat was getting them nowhere. “But like I said, I’d like time to peruse Penelope’s plans before we get together. Here’s my card—”

“Tonight. Dinner. You’ll love the soul food. Southern fried chicken, collard greens…”

“On second thought, it’s probably best that the next meeting be with both of us and Penelope,” Natalie said, not liking where this was going. She put the card back into her purse. “Let’s both touch base with her in a couple of days and then schedule the next meeting.”

And then, before Michael could say a word, Natalie started down the front steps of the house. She needed to get away from him. Natalie knew his type, and wasn’t going to entertain his “I’m not flirting” flirtation any longer.

She hurried around the side of the building, not looking backward. She knew she was doing the same thing she had done yesterday—running from Michael, as he had said. Natalie wasn’t naïve, and she certainly wasn’t born yesterday. No matter what Michael said, it was clear that he had designs on her, and the last thing she wanted to do was lead him on in any way. So going out to dinner with him to discuss the charity even was a definite no-no.

At least not tonight. Let her go over Penelope’s initial plans on her own, then she and Michael would talk. That way, their next interaction would truly feel like a business meeting as opposed to a date.

But as Natalie rounded her car to the driver’s-side door, she stopped in her tracks. Silently, she cursed.

Because her grand plan of escape had totally been destroyed.

She had a flat tire.