Balancing Act (The Santa Monica Trilogy Book 3) (9 page)

She pressed closer, absorbing the heat of his body. “They’ll be disappointed when they realize we’re not celebrities.”

His low laughter made her insides clench. “You want to give them something worth photographing?”

Before she could make sense of his words, he buried his fingers in her hair and covered her mouth with his. Her lips opened beneath his insistent tongue, and then he was surging inside, stealing her breath, robbing her of every thought. She forgot that they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, in plain sight of who knew how many paparazzi camped outside of one of the poshest addresses in Santa Monica. Forgot all the reasons why this kiss was so wrong, why
he
was so wrong, as the pleasure thrummed through her, drowning out everything except the sweep of his tongue, the hammering of her heart, the wildfire that his hands were igniting as they stroked down her back.

He was the one who finally pulled away, steadying her with a firm grip on her hips until the cool air and the sound of a car pulling up to the curb nearby filtered through her befuddled senses.

“Want me to drive?”

She blinked up at him. For a fleeting moment, she wanted to say
yes!
—knowing that if she took him up on the offer, there was no way she’d be spending the night alone. Then reality intruded and she released her tight grip on his jacket. “You just want to get your hands on my Tesla.”

“You’re right.” His slow grin almost melted her resolve. “I would love to get my hands on your Tesla.”

Oh, man. She was definitely in trouble. Time to get things back on track, and remind him—as well as herself—that before anything else could happen, they still had unfinished business to take care of.

“I’ll talk with Mrs. Callahan again.” She stepped back. “We’ll see you at the settlement conference.”

His grin faded. “That’s not for another twelve days.”

“I know.” And then, because she couldn’t resist, and because Zach wasn’t the only one who could play dirty, she rose up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. His strangled groan and the flexing of his fingers on her hips had her questioning her sanity. Twelve days seemed a very long time away.

Then again, she’d already waited thirteen years. Putting off gratification for another two weeks or so wouldn’t kill her.

Assuming Zach still wanted to have anything to do with her after they settled the case.

“She wants
what
?”

Zach calmly repeated Angie’s terms.

Tom drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair as Zach completed his recitation and fell silent.

“But that’s absurd,” Bob Geller sputtered. “Subsidizing that woman’s rent for three years at market rates in Santa Monica? On top of relocation expenses,
and
attorney’s fees? You sure we can’t negotiate a better settlement deal than that?”

Zach suppressed a spurt of irritation. He knew Bob meant well. The man had been instrumental in S&L’s growth over the last decade, overseeing the design of several of their biggest projects. But given the problems Zach had already encountered since this whole lawsuit began, he resented having to justify himself yet again.

He kept his voice even as he reiterated, “I realize it’s a lot of money. But if you consider our daily burn rate—money we’ll continue to lose for every day of delay—as well as the fact that this kind of litigation can drag on for years, I think we’re actually coming out ahead.  Remember, until we either settle or go to trial, there’s an injunction in place that prevents us from doing
anything.
”

That put a damper on the discussion, until finally Tom broke the silence. “If we agree to this, will she drop the other stipulations?”

“Probably,” Zach hedged. “But we might be forced to scale down the project and up the number of low-income housing units anyway.”

“What do you mean, forced?” Bob said. “If she drops those demands, that should be the end of it.”

“Not exactly.” Zach recounted the rumors he’d heard about the city council.

“Damned bureaucrats,” Tom muttered. “You think it’ll happen?”

Zach shrugged. “Of course we’ll sue if they try to renege.”

“It’ll mean more delays,” Bob said. “More expense. Which we can’t afford unless we get a major player on our side. All we need is one big retailer to sign on for an anchor store. Or a company looking to substantially expand their office space.”

“Speaking of,” Tom said. “How are talks going with the MegaData Analytics folks?”

Bob rocked his hand in a so-so gesture. “They’re interested in establishing a West Coast subsidiary, but I’m not sure they’re sold on Santa Monica. The CEO sent his nephew here to do reconnaissance, and the kid still seems to be experiencing sticker shock over the cost of local real estate.”

“Aren’t they headquartered in New York?” Tom said. “Prices there aren’t much different.”

“True, but their New York office is pretty small,” Bob said. “The company headquarters are actually in some hick town in central Pennsylvania. You could probably buy a hundred acres there for the equivalent of a single month’s rent on a three-bedroom in Santa Monica.”

Tom leaned forward. “What do you think it’ll take to secure their interest?”

“I’m not sure,” Bob said. “The kid’s barely out of college. Maybe Zach here can take him around, show him a good time. What do you say, Zach?”

Zach shook his head. “I’m a little old for the clubbing scene.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of getting the kid drunk and laid.”

“Really?” What was this,
Mad Men?
Somehow Zach doubted that whooping it up with a potential business client was the best way to clinch a contract.

“His name is Matthew Kane.” Bob pulled out his cell phone. “There, I just sent you his contact information.”

“I’ll talk with him,” Zach said. “But that’s all. Now, can we get back to business?”

Another hour of fielding questions and reviewing strategy, and Zach was ready to pack it in for the day.

“You want to grab some dinner?” he asked his father as they left the office.

“Don’t you have a hot date or something?”

“Not tonight.”

“Seems like that’s the case most nights. At least lately,” Tom said. “You want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

Zach slowed as they approached the street corner. “Why would you assume something’s bothering me?” He pressed the button for the pedestrian crossing signal.

“It’s Monday.”

“Yeah, so?”

“We usually have dinner together on Wednesday.”

Zach hit the signal button again. “What, I can’t offer you dinner on Monday night without you automatically assuming something’s wrong?”

Tom smiled. “If you punch the button again, maybe this time it’ll turn green.”

Zach dropped his hand. “How about Chaya? They should be opening up right about now.”

“Sure, why not?” Tom waited until they were seated inside the restaurant before raising the topic again. “You
have
seemed a little tense the last few weeks, son.”

Zach scanned the menu. “The black cod looks good. What are you having?”

“Filet mignon.” At Zach’s pointed look, Tom sighed. “Right. I guess I’ll go with the grilled salmon.”

“Good choice.” Zach signaled their server. Within minutes, she delivered their drinks, took their orders, and whisked away the menus.

As she disappeared toward the kitchen, Tom nudged him. “Did you see that?”

“What?”

“The waitress. She was giving you the look.”

“What are you talking about?”

Tom raised his brows. “Now I
know
something isn’t right. You know you can tell me anything, Zach.”

“Jesus, Dad, give it a rest. I’m fine. I’m just worried about this project, okay?”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“I thought maybe you were worried about the lawsuit.”

Zach hunched his shoulders. “Maybe. A little.”

“You want me to talk with Eva, see if she’ll have a word with Angie?”

Zach snorted. “Good luck with that.”

“You don’t think it’ll help?”

“What I think is that Angie has a mind of her own.”

“Yes,” Tom agreed. “But she and Eva are pretty close. And we’ve always had a good relationship.”

Strange, hearing that word on his dad’s lips. Stranger still was that he agreed with Tom’s assessment. Tom had been Eva’s rock through the turbulence of her first husband’s illness, and their bond transcended whatever business wrangling had followed Roger’s death. Even now, years later, Tom and Eva remained good friends.

This despite the fact that Zach and Angie had been circling around each other practically from the moment they met, like prize fighters sizing up the opposition. And that was
before
Angie had raised the stakes by suing the company. 

The problem was that Zach didn’t feel like fighting her anymore. And he was afraid that what his dad was proposing would damage whatever tentative understanding Zach and Angie had managed to forge.

“I don’t know, Dad.” He stirred the ice in his water glass. “Seems to me like you’re asking for trouble if you go behind Angie’s back and try to get Eva involved.”

No matter how Zach might try to spin it post factum, she’d most likely see such a move as manipulative, underhanded—or, worse, a betrayal of the informal agreement she and Zach had already made. And of course she’d blame him.

While he wasn’t above playing dirty when the occasion called for it, he balked at doing so with Angie. If they had any chance of making this thing work—whatever it was between them—he had to be completely above-board and honest with her. Even if it meant potentially giving up the advantage. Even if it ended up costing him in the long run.

Tom eyed him speculatively. “You think so?”

“Trust me on this, Dad.”

“Fine.” Tom glanced up as the waitress approached with a basket of fresh bread and olive tapenade.

“Anythin’ else I can get y’all?”

Tom smiled. “Actually, my son and I were having a little disagreement. I was hoping you could us help settle it.”

The woman glanced at Zach, who frowned. Unfortunately, the expression had no effect on either his dad or the server. She slipped her order pad in a front pocket of her apron and straightened the ties around her narrow waist. “I can try.”

“Your accent,” Tom continued. “Zach here thinks it’s from Georgia. I vote for South Carolina.”

The woman tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. “Sorry, Zach, but your daddy’s right.”

Zach shot his dad an irritated look. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

Tom kicked him under the table and said, “You’ll have to excuse my son. He’s a little shy around beautiful women.”

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest thin’!” She flashed Zach another smile. “Supper should be ready soon. Can I get y’all anythin’ else in the meantime?”

The moment she was gone, Zach scowled at his dad. “What the hell was that about?”

“The woman was practically drooling over you. You couldn’t spare her a glance?”

Zach topped a piece of bread with more tapenade. “I don’t need my dad trolling for women on my behalf.”

“No hot dates. No clubbing. No interest in getting set up.” Tom ticked the points off on his fingers. “You’re not sick, are you?”

“Not that I know of.”

Tom sat back. “Shit. Don’t tell me you’re gay?”

Zach paused in the process of taking a bite. For the first time all evening, he felt a genuine spark of humor. “Yeah, Dad. It’s only taken me thirty-five years to figure it out.”

“Well, damn. Really?”

Zach resumed eating. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“I need a drink,” Tom muttered, raising his arm.

“No you don’t,” Zach said. “You’re off the booze, remember?”

“That was before I found out I wasn’t getting any grandchildren.”

“Grandchildren?” Zach paled. “Jesus, who said anything about grandchildren?”

He and Angie hadn’t even slept together, and his dad was talking kids? That was worse than opening a book and finding nothing but “The End” printed inside.

Sure, he and Angie struck sparks off each other whenever they were in the same room. But that was no guarantee of long-term compatibility, let alone a common vision for the future.

He had no idea if Angie even wanted kids. Maybe she was so invested in her career that she wasn’t interested in anything that would compete for her time and attention. Some women were like that. He’d dated a few of them. Hell, his own mother had been a prime example of someone who should never have had children. When he’d told Angie the other night that his mother didn’t have a maternal bone in her body, he hadn’t been kidding. And while he didn’t think Angie was cut from the same cloth, there was no way to tell for sure. At least not without getting to know her a whole lot better.

“You’re shitting me,” Tom said. “About this whole gay thing. Aren’t you?”

Zach sighed. “If I tell you the truth, will you lay off the matchmaking?”

“You bet.”

“And no more talk about grandkids.”

“Now hold on a minute…”

“I mean it, Dad.”

Tom opened his mouth, then glanced over Zach’s shoulder. “Looks like our food is here.”

They ate in silence for several minutes before Tom set down his fork. “It’s a parent’s prerogative to worry.”

“You can rest easy, Dad. I was joking.”

“Okay.” Tom nodded. “I figured as much.”

Zach watched him fiddle with his silverware. “Something wrong with the food?”

“No.” He took a bite, chewed, then set the fork aside again. “You know, Zach, I’ve been meaning to say this for a long time. Your mother and I did you a disservice, showing you all the ways a marriage can go wrong. I’m sorry about that. But just because we screwed up, doesn’t mean
you
can’t find happiness with the right woman.”

“I thought we agreed you’d stop with the matchmaking, Dad.”

“All I’m saying is, you have to at least try. I want you to be happy, son. That’s all. It’s not too much to ask, is it?”

Zach swallowed. For once, he didn’t have a ready response.