Chasing Marisol (Blueprint to Love Book 3) (2 page)

Jeff allowed himself a grudging smile. She represented an interesting challenge. His usual game plan would require tweaking. She wasn't a typical one-and-done pushover. Marisol would demand effort. Well-planned and highly coordinated. Though subtlety was a tool he'd rarely been called upon to utilize in the past, he was smart enough to realize he would need it now. But with a little Traynor elbow grease— and maybe some advice from his sisters-in-law— he could pick up a few pointers. By the time he was finished, Marisol Ortega wouldn't know what hit her.    

***

Mari sank back in her chair, resisting the urge to kick off her pumps. Soon enough she could slip back into the jeans and sneakers that were her uniform at the shelter. The men and women she served didn't care how she dressed. They worried about the roof over their head and the hot meal in their belly. They cared whether they would be privy to the same luxury the next day. And the one after that.

Checking her watch, she waited for Jefferson Traynor to return. For a part of her job she didn't enjoy performing, she was rather adept at soliciting donations— of both time and money to assist the New Beginnings Shelter. About to undertake her biggest challenge, it was fortunate she performed so well. Adding a wing to the shelter had been her dream for nearly five years. She was down to the last half million they needed to complete the addition. More important, they finally had enough money to get the project
started
.

The remaining hurdle was securing the contractor who could make it happen for the lowest price, in the shortest amount of time. The shelter had been overcrowded for months. Every night, people were turned away. That situation would only intensify by the time winter rolled around again.

Marisol rose when she saw Jeff in the hallway, wrapping up his conversation with a colleague. It was the ultimate irony that the annoying man she'd met in the lobby was the unlikely savior who would be the catalyst to her dreams for the new wing. But if she could parlay his interest in her into lower prices . . . a shorter schedule . . . better equipment. Mari smiled. She didn't mind using sexual attraction to gain what the shelter needed.   

He re-entered the room with the same crackling energy he'd shown earlier. Though he  hadn't eaten, he reminded her of a sugared-up kid due for a crash. Shrugging free of his suit jacket, he tossed it on the chair. "Okay - let's take a look at these plans."

"How about back here?" She cleared one of the tables, unable to contain her frown as she noticed the mountain of untouched pastries on the tray.

His gaze followed hers. "You hungry? I'll get the waiter to bring us more coffee."

She shook her head. "No, thanks. I was thinking of the waste. To you, that pile probably doesn't mean much." Meeting his attentive gaze, she smiled. "Just a billion calories."

Rolling up his shirtsleeves on tanned, strong . . . capable looking forearms, he paused. "What does it mean to you?"

She turned to survey the room. "To me, this represents three hundred dollars that could have been spent on meals at the shelter." Turning back, she found him watching her expectantly. "Care to take a guess how many meals that would provide?"

He shrugged. "To be honest— three hundred bucks doesn't sound like much, but when you put it that way-" His expression changed, indicating he was performing some serious mathematical calculations in his head. "I'd guess if you were careful, you could make . . . maybe fifty meals?"   

She smiled over the flare of intelligent challenge in beautiful, green eyes. "Actually, we can do a little better than that. With three hundred dollars, the fantastic volunteer chefs at New Beginnings can stretch that to cover closer to two hundred meals."

Jeff emitted a low whistle. "Seriously?" When she nodded, he held up a finger. "Don't move. I'll be right back."

When he disappeared through the double doors once again, she wondered where he possibly derived so much energy. She was leafing through her construction notes when he returned five minutes later— an army of waiters following closely on his heels.

His wink made her stomach flutter. Shocked by her reaction, she schooled her gaze. But his cocky smile told her Jeff had seen it, too. He pointed out the pastry. "I'd like all of this sliced into smaller portions and wrapped so Miss Ortega can take it with her. We'll be leaving in forty minutes."

It was her turn to stare as the waiters scurried to load up the pastries. "Why are you doing this?"

"The money's not totally wasted if everyone at the shelter gets to enjoy dessert, right?"    

Why hadn't she thought of it? Jeff Traynor's eyes sparkled when he grinned— reminding her of an overgrown kid who was having way too much fun. He'd taken her lemons and gifted her with lemonade. Mari's smile was genuine when she thanked him. "You're absolutely right."

***

He seriously deserved a medal. Glancing at his watch, Jeff confirmed his award-winning abilities. Yeah. He was damn sure. The last hour and fifteen minutes had been spent inhaling the intoxicating scent of Marisol Ortega. He'd observed at close range— how her eyes changed from one bewitching Caribbean blue to another— depending on her mood and the light in the room. Her hair— long, chocolate strands that whispered for his fingers to run through each curl had remained untouched. He'd noticed— yet miraculously refrained from confirming, what he suspected was the softest, honeyed skin he'd ever seen.

The herculean effort had occurred while he'd been required to speak coherently about the numerous changes she wished to make. She'd hit him with question after intelligent question— how much would this change cost? Would they still have room for another feature? Where would it go? Would it add days to the schedule?

Releasing a frustrated sigh, he watched her gather her briefcase. Marisol had been pleasant. She'd been polite. She'd been persistent—
damn
persistent about what she wanted for her shelter. She'd grilled him steadily— yet by all accounts, she'd been completely unaffected by him. When he'd asked her to lunch, she'd paused for so long, Jeff figured she was trying to think up a polite excuse. When she finally answered, she'd asked if she could decide later. Apparently if their current meeting ran too long, she'd shoot him down again. Not exactly the situation he'd painted for himself.

What the hell was going on? He was charming, damn it. He was persuasive.
Plenty
of women had made it abundantly clear they found him attractive. He worked out. He showered daily. So— what was he doing wrong with her?

"Are you sure you still have time for lunch?" Marisol set her briefcase near the stack of pastry boxes that still needed to be loaded into her car.

His gloom-laden thoughts scattered as his brain skidded back to reality. "Do you?"

"I don't mean to be pushy, but I would have time if you let me pick our lunch spot." She smiled, a question in her mesmerizing eyes. "Would that be okay?"

Hooyah.
Hell, yeah
. He contained his grin with effort. And the high-five. Definitely not cool. "No problem."

"I want to take you to one of my favorite places."

Jeff's stomach tilted. She could choose the most expensive place in town for all he cared. Marisol had offered a genuine smile— the first one directed solely at him. "Lead the way. I'll carry these boxes to your car."  

Chapter 2

Mari parked in the alley, forced to wedge her car between a delivery truck and a volunteer's sedan. Confirming in her mirror that Jeff was still with her— she crossed her fingers, hoping she wouldn't embarrass herself when she parallel parked in the tight space. With parking at a premium, he definitely had it easier with his motorcycle.

Pulling up next to her, Jeff parked his bike on the sidewalk in an effort to keep the alley clear. She opened the passenger door, intent on hoisting the pastry boxes from her backseat when he approached, concern reflected in his eyes. "What's wrong?" 

He scanned the deserted street, frowning. "You shouldn't be parking here— this isn't safe."

She waved a hand to dismiss his worry. "I've parked here before. We'll be fine."

"Where are we? I don't think I've ever been here before."

Before she could respond, he quickly moved in front of her— putting himself and the car door between them. "What are you doing?"

"Stay behind me," he ordered, his voice suddenly tense. "There's a very large, very scary looking guy approaching us. Whatever happens— if I tell you to run— just go."

Mari stole a peek over a broad, solid, and suddenly very tense shoulder and smothered her laughter. Brushing his arm, she felt muscles contract under his shirt. "It's not what you think."

Determined, his unwavering gaze remained on the massive man approaching. "We're
not
about to be attacked by a giant who looks as though he walked off the set of a James Bond movie?"

She tugged his arm, moving into the alley. "Jeff— this is the shelter. We're having lunch at New Beginnings. And this-" She stepped forward to greet the man approaching them with a scowl on his scarred face. "This is Pete Shea." She nodded at the man towering over her. "Pete? I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Jeff Traynor."

To her relief, Jeff immediately relaxed, his guarded expression dissolving in a smile. "Nice to meet you, Pete."

Pete continued to glare down at Jeff from his six foot seven height. His distant expression indicated he'd slipped into his world of military scenarios. She made a mental note to discuss the increasing lapses with his counselor at the VA Center.

Mari sensed Jeff closing the gap between them. "Pete?" She tried again to defuse the tension. "Jeff is building our addition for us. Maybe after lunch— you can walk with us for a few minutes and share your suggestions with him."  

Her words had the hoped-for effect. Like a magic charm, Pete's brooding face split with a smile of welcome and he extended his hand. "Nice to meet you. I've got lots of ideas on the addition— lots of stuff that will make the perimeter safer," he explained. "We need to protect the flank. Right now—we're exposed."

"Exposed?" Jeff's questioning gaze shifted to her.

"Yeah, man. It's hard to sleep at night knowing we could be attacked from the south. I don't like it. I don't like it one bit."

Mari ignored the question in Jeff's eyes. "Pete— could you help us carry these pastries inside? If you've already eaten lunch, you could set them out on the dessert table in the back."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be happy to accept that duty." Passing Jeff without a second glance, Pete gathered the boxes from her seat and headed to the back door of the shelter.

Beautiful eyes reflecting curiosity, Jeff stared at her for a moment before smiling. "I have a feeling this will be the most interesting lunch I've had in a long time."

***

In a hundred years, Jeff couldn't have guessed how this day would turn out. Marisol had led him through the too-small kitchen to the crowded cafeteria at the front of the building. But not before introducing him to half the staff. He'd met two of New Beginnings' rotating list of chefs who donated their time to help feed the hungry. Some of the finest chefs in northern Virginia volunteered their talents in the tiny, inadequate kitchen of Mari's shelter.
Mari.
He liked the shortened version of her name— wanted to whisper it against her lips when he finally got the chance to kiss her senseless.

Now, as they waited in the line that snaked ever closer to the tantalizing smell of roasting beef, he contented himself with watching her in action. Marisol was animated. She was talkative— to him and everyone who approached her. And she smelled great. While she was busy directing traffic, he resisted the urge to bury his nose in her hair.

"Sorry about scaring you with Pete back there." She turned to speak with him and was jostled into his chest. "Oops."

As his nerve endings scorched in tortured protest, Jeff reached out to steady her and confirmed something he'd already suspected. Mari felt really, really good pressed against him. "For a moment, my life flashed before my eyes."

"Pete has that effect on everyone the first time. I suppose he's a little intimidating, but to us he's always been so sweet and protective."

"He's former military?"

She nodded and took three steps forward. "He's been coming around here for years. He receives great care at the VA center— but there's something about this place that must appeal to him because he shows up every day— wanting to perform sentry duty— guard the perimeter from attack— protect our flank . . . whatever that means."

"Can't blame a guy for wanting to protect a horde of beautiful women."

Instead of taking offense to his compliment as she had earlier in the day— she smiled. "You
would
think of that angle." Reaching the front of the line, she waved to an older woman. "Annie— come meet Jeff."

He shook hands with a woman whose smile, for some reason didn't reach her eyes. "Nice to meet you, Annie." The pale, thin woman appeared worn out— mentally spent.

In comparison, Mari's eyes glowed with enthusiasm. "Annie is another of our devoted volunteers," she praised. "She's here early in the morning and is still here late at night. We couldn't manage this place without her."

Annie's mouth lifted in a wan smile. "I'm grateful to volunteer my services. New Beginnings means a great deal to me."

"Join us for lunch? Jeff and I are reviewing the plans for the new wing."

Annie darted a knowing glance at him— sizing him up before offering a reluctant smile. "No thanks, Ms. Ortega. We're still pretty busy."

Marisol seemed oblivious to the older woman's appraisal of him, while her staff had made no effort to hide their interest. She worked in a tight-knit and protective group. That could work to his advantage, Jeff acknowledged. If a few of them liked him, they'd lean on Mari to give him a chance. Or they could just as easily close ranks and he'd blow his opportunity.

"Make sure you take your break as soon as the crowd disperses." Mari set her tray on a table near the wall. "I'll be back to help clean up the kitchen in a little bit."

"Honey— you take your time. This place can last a few hours without you." She winked at Jeff before moving swiftly back to the line.

When they were finally alone, he surveyed the crowded hall and smiled. Nearly all the tables were filled with hungry diners. Most appeared to be regulars by the way they chatted with staff and their dining companions.

"So— tell me what you're thinking." Mari passed him the salt and pepper as he cut into  savory roasted beef. "Were you surprised when I brought you here?"

Leaning across the table, Jeff closed the distance between them and watched her pupils flare— with awareness of him, he hoped. "I've been surprised by just about everything I've learned today— about you and New Beginnings. This is a special place."

To his amazement, she blushed. "I'm happy you think so. That's how I feel about it, too. I wanted you to see this." She gestured to the crowded room. "So when you look at the plans, you see not only what we’re trying to create— but what the obstacles and limitations are."

He took a bite of shockingly tender roast beef and chewed thoughtfully. "That's pretty insightful coming from someone who supposedly doesn't know anything about construction."

Sipping her lemonade, she winced. "We must be getting low on sugar again. You'd be surprised how much you learn about work-arounds when you operate on a budget like ours. We have only eight full-time staffers and we service hundreds of clients each day. That's why we're so grateful to our volunteers. There are at least twenty who show up every day— giving whatever hours they can spare."

"I'm impressed by what you're able to accomplish. You have a skeletal staff and such meager facilities— and still you manage to perform miracles."

"I don't know about miracles." Mari stabbed a carrot with her fork. "But we make a damn fine pot roast."

***

Hours later, Marisol frowned when she sat down for a brief rest, her thoughts returning to Jeff Traynor. He'd turned out to be nothing like her initial impression. Interested in the shelter, he'd been knowledgeable about the plans after only a brief review— pointing out areas they could sneak in more space for features she hadn't even thought of. He'd spent another two hours after lunch— walking the grounds where the addition was planned. Jeff had even managed Pete's enthusiasm in a kind, thoughtful way, treating him as though his opinion mattered— something she knew Pete didn't experience often.

She threw her pencil on the table. Damn it. By all appearances, he was perfect. Yet she knew that couldn't possibly be true. He was hiding something. They all did. Some huge, terrifying character flaw-

"Who ruined your day? Your scowl is worse than Big Pete's." Sharon Jones grinned as she pulled out the chair across from her.

"It's actually been a fantastic day. The board meeting went better than I hoped," Mari admitted. "I think we've picked up two more corporate donors. I plan to follow up with them next week."

"Honey— fantastic doesn't even begin to describe the hottie you brought here for lunch." The shelter's director fanned herself with exaggerated motions. "Damn, girl— he's fine."

Jeez, not another one. She'd been fielding comments like Sharon's all afternoon. "Jeff is going to be our builder. His father and I have been working on the plans since last spring."

"That fine, young specimen is Linc's son?" Sharon's grin flashed white in her cocoa face. "Hot damn— those are some pretty good genes in that family. And you know he's gonna age well because his daddy sure is hot."

"Sharon— he's at least sixty. And you're married," Mari pointed out the obvious, a reluctant smile twitching her lips.

"Sugar— I ain't dead."

"Regardless of his appearance, this relationship will be strictly business. I don't need another distraction in my life. I've got Hector now— and dealing with his mother is about all I can handle."

"Mari— you're gonna win. You've been fostering him for two years now. How long since his mama last showed up? A year?"

"Eight months," she acknowledged with a troubled sigh. True— custody was strongly leaning in her favor. But she could not risk complacency until Hector was legally hers. Only then would she allow herself the luxury of relaxing her guard.

"No judge is gonna side with the mama when the mama is a drug addict. She's disappeared what? Four times now? In three years of drifting in and out of this shelter?"

"But she's like a bad penny. Just when I start to believe Hector's mine— she shows up again and unravels all the progress I make with him."

Sharon's eyes conveyed sympathy. "I know, baby. But you'll make it. And it will finally be over by the end of the year."

Mari nodded. "But until then-" Her voice trailed off. She didn't want to contemplate anything beyond the court hearing. It made her feel too vulnerable. Experience had taught her not to want anything too badly. Because when it inevitably disappeared, the hurt was twice as painful. "All the more reason I don't need some guy disrupting everything."

"Some hot, sexy, smolderin' stud," Sharon corrected. "Hell— Sugar. You don't have to marry him. Just use him for a little stress relief. Lord knows you could use some relievin'."

Sharon— thirty years married— mother of four kids was giving her advice on her sex life? Had her personal life truly sunk so low? Despite her worries, Mari cracked up. "Am I that bad off?"

"You can't be judgin' every man you meet." Sharon waved an animated hand, jangling an armload of bangles on her wrist. "For one reason or another, you convict them all before you even put 'em on trial." The older woman leveled her with a glare. "No man stands a chance."

She shrugged, knowing it was true. "It's safer that way. Look what happened last-"

"How long you gonna sing that tune?" Sharon interrupted. "Not every man will turn out to be a deadbeat." Her tone was exasperated. "Have you even had a man since Nick?"

Heat crawled into her face. "Not everything is about sex-"

"Mmhmm. Just as I thought," she confirmed. "You haven't been with anyone since that loser. What's that been— two years?"

"Please— I cannot have this conversation with you, Sharon. You're like— my mother."

"So that means I know what's best for you, darlin'. And I think a little bit of attention from that delicious man is exactly what you need."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you— but I can assure you I won’t be utilizing Jeff Traynor for 'stress relief'."