Worth Forgiving
Page 3“Thank you.” I motioned to my fancy shoes with the dangerously thin high heel. “These two don’t like it when my stilettos put holes in the floor mats.”
“Well you’re beautiful either way. But the shoes…,” the salesman trailed off into a low catcall whistle, “…the shoes are sexy as hell.”
Dad signed on with the competing protein powder company the next morning.
***
Fashionably late by more than a half hour, I finally make it to Osteria Madena, Joe’s favorite Italian restaurant. It’s small, everyone squeezed together so tightly the waiters have to be thin just to fit between the tables. I look around the packed room, not finding Joe and the man we’re supposed to be meeting at first glance. I check my watch, hoping they didn’t leave. I’m late, but nothing Joe isn’t used to by now.
“Ahh…the beautiful Bambino. There she is.” Fredo, the owner of the restaurant kisses both my cheeks. Dad, Joe and I have been coming here for years, a signed picture of my dad hangs proudly over the bar. He clasps both my hands and pulls back to examine me. “You’re too skinny, my bella donna! Tonight…tonight we feed you a big plate of pasta, no? Fredo fatten you up a bit, yes?”
I smile, knowing I’m getting pasta, even if I order chicken. “Is Joe here? I’m supposed to meet him, but I don’t see him around.”
“Yes, yes. Mr. Joe is at the bar waiting for you. Come.” Fredo takes my hand and walks me to the other side of the bar that wasn’t visible from the entry where I was standing.
Joe stands when he sees me. “You look lovely.” He kisses my cheek then shakes his head. “And you should considering how long you kept us waiting.”
“Sorry. I lost track of time,” I offer, noticing an empty seat next to Joe. “Did I miss the broker?”
“No, he just stepped away to take a call. Actually, here he is now.” Joe motions behind me.
I turn ready to apologize for my lateness, but I’m stopped in my tracks when my eyes fall on Mr. Beautiful from the gym today.
“Jackson Knight, this is my partner, Lily St. Claire,” Joe makes the obligatory introduction.
Jackson lifts a brow, a slow smirk tipping one corner of his mouth. “We’ve met.” He shakes my hand, not letting go right away. His eyes make a quick sweep of me from head to toe and I arch an eyebrow when his eyes make their way back to mine, letting him know I’ve watched him check me out. Instead of being embarrassed at being caught, Jackson’s smirk turns to a full, panty-dropping smile. Seriously? Ridiculously handsome and cocky.
“Sorry I’m late,” I muster when he eventually releases my hand.
“I didn’t realize you two had met already?” Joe interrupts.
“We met at the gym today,” I explain to Joe, my gaze never leaving Jackson as I speak. “Jackson failed to mention that he was your business broker, Mr. Knight.”
“Did I fail to mention that?” Jackson flirts knowingly.
“I’m pretty sure you did.” I quirk an eyebrow and smile.
“Hmmm, maybe I did. I seem to recall we were interrupted.”
Fredo reappears out of nowhere, taking my hand. “Come. We feed you now. Si?” He looks back to Jackson as we begin walking. “She’s molto bello, yes?”
“Absolutely. Stunningly so,” he adds to Fredo’s very beautiful compliment spoken in Italian.
“But she’s too skinny, si? Tonight we plump her up with some homemade carbonara. Yes?” He doesn’t wait for a response before showing us to our table. It’s the best table in the restaurant, the far left corner, one of the few places where there’s room between tables.
Jackson pulls my chair out for me to sit, waiting until I’m seated to take the seat next to me.
“I bring more vino and we make special dishes for our special customers.” Fredo disappears.
“I guess we don’t need to look at the menu then?” Jackson asks amused.
“You can if you want. But if Fredo doesn’t like what you pick, he’s only going to change it anyway.”
Fifteen minutes later, Fredo brings more food than three people could ever eat. As promised, a heaping serving of fettuccine carbonara is placed in front of me. The three of us talk throughout our meal, the conversation flowing as easily as the wine.
Jackson Knight is the owner of Knight Investments, the firm that put together a group of silent investors interested in buying half of Ralley’s Gyms so Joe can retire. Joe took Dad’s death almost as hard as I did. It made him think twice about all the hours he works, instead of spending time with his family. I’m glad he is going to retire, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified at the thought of losing him on a day-to-day basis.
“He seems to be pretty intent on packing you with calories,” Jackson says as the table fills with deliciousness.
“Apparently I’ve lost a few pounds and he’s determined to help me find them to fix my body.”
Joe is busy talking with Fredo so he doesn’t catch Jackson’s response. “You look pretty perfect to me.” He says directly into my eyes and then they drop, roaming over my body slowly before returning his gaze to mine. “There’s nothing you need to fix.”
Flustered, I change the subject. “So why didn’t you mention you were coming?” I fork a piece of the chocolate cake.
“I thought I’d check out how things ran, without knowing anyone was watching.” He pauses, then adds, “For the investors. You find out a lot more about a business when you drop in and get treated like any other client. Since the funding is coming from a group of anonymous investors with limited voting rights, I handle the due diligence and report back.” Jackson lifts his fork and motions to the cake in front of me. “You mind?”
“By all means, help yourself. It’s less that I’ll have to run off tomorrow.” He grins and forks a piece of the cake sitting in front of me. I watch a little too intently as he swallows, riveted by the sight of his throat working.
“Some things you get one taste of and want to consume the whole thing.” Jackson’s voice brings my focus back from his throat.
Trying to ignore how truly sexy his voice is, I respond looking away. “Yes, the chocolate cake here is out of this world.”
“That too.” Jackson replies, his eyes sparkling mischievously.
The two men argue over paying the bill and then our conversation goes back to business for a few minutes more before we leave.
“So tell me, Lily, what’s your biggest concern about the investment group buying out Joe’s half of the gym?” Jackson asks pointedly.
I think for a minute. “It’s important to me to keep my dad’s vision for the gyms. He didn’t want them turned into generic exercise gyms just to grow membership. The focus needs to stay on training fighters. I guess I’m concerned the focus of the investors won’t be the same. I know we’re doing this with silent investors who will have limited voting rights, they’re basically becoming stockholders, but it still makes me nervous bringing in any outsiders.”
Jackson nods. “That’s good to know. I’ve been training at the Ralley’s in D.C. for years and it’s one of the things that set the gym apart from other places. It would be shortsighted to turn the gyms into something else. Chains of exercise gyms come and go. The members aren’t loyal because there are a dozen places they can get the same service. Ralley’s is different, and if it stays different, it can continue growth with the sport. Joe and I spoke a bit about the cash flow shortage Ralley’s has been having lately. It isn’t uncommon for businesses that grow fast to feel some growing pains. Hopefully having investors with deep pockets will also give you some relief from relying on the banks too much.”
It’s a relief to know at least someone involved in the buyout understands what makes Ralley’s so special. The worries that keep me up at night. “I’m glad you understand Ralley’s. It’s more than just a business to me. To us.”
“I’m still figuring that part out,” I say cryptically. Joe and I need to have a long conversation about Caden’s involvement once he leaves. I’m not sure he is the right person for the job anymore. He’s a bit too hotheaded and his people skills aren’t the greatest, to put it mildly.
We talk for a little while more about our long-term vision for Ralley’s. I’m impressed at how much Jackson knows and how easily he seems to comprehend my concerns. Eventually we say our goodbyes to Fredo and walk outside into the warm, late summer evening. “How long are you in town, Jackson?” Joe asks as he hails a cab for us. I only live a few blocks away, but I learned long ago that Joe will never let me walk home in the dark alone.
“I’m not sure yet. The bank is coming in to go through the books next week, so a couple of weeks at least.”
A cab pulls up at the curb. “I’ll be going out of town for a few days while you’re here. But I’m sure Lily will take good care of you.” The two men shake hands.
Jackson turns to me, a seductive smile warming me inside and out. He leans in to say goodnight as Joe opens the cab door and speaks to the driver. “I look forward to you taking good care of me,” he whispers and kisses my cheek. I climb inside the car before he can see the heat spreading across my face.
***
The next day when I come in, I scour the gym, trying not to make it obvious who I’m looking for. When my gaze finds the man I’m hoping to see again, he’s jumping rope at warp speed, but his eyes are locked on me already. Feeling flustered for being caught, I practically run back to the reception area. Throughout the day, I sneak a few glances at Jackson as he works out. A few times he catches me and smiles. Luckily, Caden doesn’t notice. The last thing I need is another scene in the gym.
Freshly showered after his workout, I’m grateful Caden is already gone when Mr. Beautiful stops at the front desk on his way out. His hair damp and a towel around his neck, he’s certainly a feast for the eyes. Although his body looks sufficiently trained, something about him doesn’t seem to fit with the guys that usually train at Ralley’s. He’s different, and it’s not just that he’s devoid of tattoos on his arms and scars on his face. Something in the way he speaks and carries himself sets him apart from the normal fighters I see.
“So, I have to admit, I thought you would be different than you are based on our emails over the last few months.” I say to Jackson, trying to ignore the effect that seeing his damp, freshly exercised body has on me. We’ve emailed back and forth a lot over the last few months. I provided reports he requested and answered questions about Ralley’s to help him put together the offering to attract investors. But our communications have been strictly professional. He was all business, nothing like the playful demeanor of the man before me.
“What did you think I would be like?” he asks, setting his bag on the floor.
“I don’t know. Just different. Older I guess.” I smile. “You’re much friendlier in person.”
“So my emails are old and unfriendly?” he teases.
“I didn’t say that. They just come off more formal. That’s probably why I thought you were older.”