The Karston Foundation was located inside a ten-story glass building full of lawyers, CPAs, and investment firms. The foundation took up the top floor, overlooking the city streets below as well as the people who kept those streets busy. Jacqui liked to stare out of those windows at the people to remind herself of why she did the things she did. It was her motivation as well as her incentive. It was one of the first buildings built after Katrina hit and Jacqui made sure it overlooked as much of the city as possible, so she could see her progress in the rebuilding of her town.She stood in front of the giant window now, arms across her chest as she stared out at the moving cars. Brent sat in one of the leather chairs in front of her desk, legs crossed, legal pad resting on one knee. She knew he was watching her, worried about her, too. She was worried about her. She had been so on track since Marc's death. Yet, this past week, she was anything but focused. First, she allowed Morgan Brew
Morgan believed the building a business resided in said quite a bit about the person in charge of the company. For instance, those who loved grand designs with fancy details and columns throughout, usually had a high opinion of themselves and were very narcissistic. Morgan referred to them as show-offs. On the other hand, those who had plain, stark buildings were either cold or had a low self-esteem, even though they had achieved their status in the business world and were at the top of the corporate food chain. As for The Karston Foundation, it was located in a tall glass building where the occupant could see out, but those below only glimpsed their own reflection. To Morgan that meant Jacqui Karston preferred to know everyone else's secrets while keeping hers close to the chest. It seemed to fit with what he knew of the woman, so far. There were no decorations on the outside of the building and the few that were on the interior were subdued and rather bland. She didn't allow for flai
An audience? Morgan's eyebrows rose. Suddenly, he felt as if he was in a throne room asking to speak to the queen. He chuckled slightly as he shook his head thinking about the self-importance of some people. Fancy words to show power and prestige. In the end, it was all the same thing—a meeting.He noticed a stack of glossy advertisements on the corner of the young woman's desk. While he waited, he picked one up, browsing the information. It was for a fundraiser for the Maggie Karston Community Center. His eyebrows lifted in surprise as he wondered where his invitation was. Since he was working on the project, he should have been invited as Neal's representative. He folded the paper and stuffed it into his pocket. A surprise appearance was in order, he decided."Yes, ma'am. I'll tell him." She hung up the phone and turned to Morgan, her face a blank mask. "Mrs. Karston is in the middle of something and said that, although you should have called ahead, she will see you when she is throu
But he did. He threw the door open and ushered himself into Jacqui's domain. "Good morning, Jacqui."Jacqui had been leaning back in her chair when he shoved her office door open, a file folder in her hand that she was studying while sipping from a stark white coffee mug. As he expected, it was merely a tactic to make him feel inferior. He hated playing politics and refused to go along with it. Jacqui would soon learn that about him. "I'm pleased to see you're okay," Morgan said. "We were getting worried about you since it was taking so long. Since nothing seems amiss, however, I would like to talk to you about your call concerning Vince Andrews Saturday night.""Mr. Brewer, you were told I would get to you in a moment." She slammed the file folder onto her desk, setting her coffee cup beside it, as she shot to her feet, hands on hips. "You do not just barge your way into my office. Miss Anderson, get Neal Rutherford on the line. I knew hiring them was a mistake and I can now rectify
Jazz played in the background from a live band off in the corner as Jacqui wandered the border of the floor, shaking people's hands and smiling as much as she could. She hated fundraisers, even the ones she held. She just didn't like asking people to give money to a cause she felt should already have their donations. They should do it voluntarily, without the fancy schmoozing that seemed to be standard fare. They should not have to spend money to get people to donate money. Marc was much better at fundraising, seeing it as a necessary evil. He could charm the checks right out of people's hands while she stood by his side and laughed at all the proper moments. She was happy to step to the side and allow him the spotlight in that instance—in any instance, really. Fundraisers were his stage, not hers. Now, however, the choice was ripped from her and if she wanted the Maggie Karston Community Center to succeed, she had to be the equivalent of the snake oil salesman. At least, that's what i
The music wasn't bad, but Morgan would have preferred something with more of a country twang. He sipped his bourbon, thinking the background music was going to put people to sleep before they could sign their checks. Ah well, what did he know about business tactics and fundraising. He was a contractor. He knew nails and two-by-fours, not how to persuade people out of their money. Lily Anderson walked by on her way over to Jacqui and Morgan stopped lifting his glass to his lips as he watched her pass. I'm much better at talking women out of their skirts. I'll stick to what I know best."Give it up. She bats for the other team from what I hear."Morgan looked down at a graying man in a wheelchair, his smile now a frown. "Such a waste of a skirt."The man laughed. "Better not let her hear you. She'll put you in a skirt."Morgan watched as Lily disappeared into a knot of people. He arched an eyebrow. "Might be worth it."The older gentleman laughed even harder. "Not very politically correc
She was going to kill him. She wasn't sure when or how, but sooner or later, she was going to kill Morgan Brewer. Her father had only said, "Have fun," as she was dragged from his side onto the dance floor, her mortification reddening her face and neck. She wasn't sure what kind of point Morgan was trying to make, but she would make life hell for him for embarrassing her like this.Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vince, leaning against the bar on the opposite side of the room, a bourbon in his hand as he watched them sway back and forth to the music. His forlorn expression put a knot in her gut, his pain quite visible. Pain she knew she had caused. Yet, she had given him no indication in the past year that would have even hinted that he could waltz back into her life and attempt to sweep her off her feet. He had just assumed, and he had assumed wrong. He popped into her field of vision again as she circled around and she could see the thickness of his arms. They were strong enoug
"What?" Morgan cut into her thoughts."Excuse me?""You're smiling and I know I didn't say anything funny. So, what were you thinking?" His green eyes sparkled as he seemed to take joy in her smile. It helped put her at ease."Just thinking of the last time I danced. It's been quite a while.""Must have been a good night. Your smile seemed to say it was, anyway.""It was." She found herself squeezing his shoulder as the memory took her breath away a little. If he noticed, he didn't say anything."Tell me about it." And by the expression on his face, she believed he truly wanted to know."Excuse me," Brent stepped up and touched her on her elbow. Saved by the bell, so to speak, she thought. "Jacqui, it's time for you to give your speech."She released Morgan's hands and gave him a small smile. "Sorry. Duty calls. Thank you for the dance, though." While the memories were still painful, it was nice to think back on a good time in her life.He gave a slight bow of his head. "It was my plea