Nowadays, only Bertie built up her confidence, kept her grounded, and gave her the unconditional love she’d missed since Duke’s death.
“Be sure to send your mother my congratulations,” he said with a tinge of acid charring the words.
“I will.”
A heavy silence fell between them. He could almost picture her in her office, pacing the wide open space behind the desk where the wall of windows looked out over the East River. She rarely sat still, even when in a good mood, and the topic of Laurel always riled her into frenetic activity.
He struggled to come up with something else to say to her, something that would remove the specter of her mother from their conversation. When they dated, whenever Cam was all wound up after going a few rounds with Laurel over something stupid, he’d take her to their “quiet place.” Inwood Hill Park, a forest in the city, had hiking trails and salt marshes and forests, all perfect for burning excess energy, finding peace, or screaming into the void, depending upon her need at the time.
His hands gripped the handles of his chair. He would never again be able to indulge her need for that level of physical activity. No wonder she wanted nothing to do with him after his injury.
Face it, Jordan. You’re useless to her now.
“So...” she said at last. “...that building.”
He shook off his self-pity. “Right. Have you seen the property yet?”
“The exterior. And I’ve reviewed the floorplans you faxed over.”
Of course she had. Cam never did anything half-assed. She hated surprises and probably spent as much time digging into the details of the building as Susan had.
“I do want to see the interior for myself so I can gauge the changes we’ll need to incorporate to make the site suitable for our specific needs. And I’ll be bringing my construction manager with me. We need to review specs and figure out costs on our end.”
Her cool, crisp timbre showed no indication they’d once shared a past and dreamed of a shared future. He doodled curlicues on the back of the index card to feign indifference, the closest he could come to matching her tone. “Of course. When would be convenient for you?”
“The sooner the better, honestly. I don’t want to waste your time or mine if the site can’t be modified within my budget.”
Ha. Small countries didn’t have half the foundation’s budget. He left that particular comment unsaid. “I can meet you there later this afternoon or tomorrow. Which do you prefer?”
“Tomorrow would be fine, thanks. Shall we say three o’clock?”
With a few taps of the keyboard, he pulled up a copy of his calendar. His afternoon was completely open—a fact he had no intention of divulging to her. The last thing he’d allow her to feel for him was pity. “I’ll shuffle a few appointments around to make it work,” he lied.
“I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” God, they sounded so stiff with each other! Hard to believe they’d once been intimate.
“Terrific. I’ll see you then. Goodbye.”
He said his own goodbye and pressed the disconnect button, but kept the receiver cradled near his ear. How shortsighted of him to not realize she’d be in charge of this deal. He had assumed once he got her okay to move forward, he’d be dealing with her army of lawyers and accountants. He’d forgotten Cam was a hands-on kind of girl, in all aspects of her life. His mind traveled back to days when those hands had touched him, delighted him, relaxed him.
Dammit, how was he supposed to work with her on a regular basis and not let his resentment leech out all over their dealings? He’d need someone to run interference. Before he could chicken out, he dialed a number he never expected to have to call again.
After only two rings, a silky-voiced receptionist answered.
“I’d like to speak to Mr. Wallace, please,” he said. “Tell him it’s Jordan Fawcett.”
A few minutes later, Bertie growled into the phone, “I was wondering how long you’d wait to call me.”
Thrilled the old goat was willing to even speak to him these days, Jordan stifled a sigh of relief. “How are you, Bertie?”
“Curious, mostly.”
Yeah, that made two of them.
“I’m not going to talk about whatever’s gone on between you and Cam, so if you’re calling to badmouth my girl or tell me your side of the story, we can hang up now.”
Nice to see Bertie hadn’t changed in the last several years. He was still the same no-nonsense curmudgeon. “Fair enough. I’ll cut to the chase. Has she told you about the Loughlin building?”
“Is that the place the foundation’s looking at over on West Fifteenth? Yeah, she’s mentioned it. But you know I have nothing to do with the day-to-day running of the foundation.”
“No, but you have a lot to do with the day-to-day of Cam.”
“And she’s off-limits in this conversation, so unless you wanna talk football, I’m gonna hang up. I’ve got two dozen players waiting for me down on the field. Welcome back to New York, Jordie, but I got stuff to do, so adios for now.”
A fumbling on the other end had Jordan mentally scrambling while he shouted into the phone, “Wait, wait! Don’t hang up!”
Crap. Bertie was Jordan’s only insight into Cameron’s mindset. So if the old coot wanted to talk football, he’d have to figure out a way to talk about Cam while talking about football. At least, that was the way he thought Bertie wanted to play this conversation. His brain scurried for a connection.
“Time’s wastin’, Jordan.”
At last, he sighed and opted for the lamest excuse in the playbook. “Okay, so, here’s the deal. I’ve been thinking about this game from a couple of years ago and wondering where I might’ve gone wrong. It was the fourth quarter, and we were down by six.” Probably more like forty, but he’d keep
