Chances Are (4 page)

It was hot. Too hot.
She needed to get out of her coat.

“Ms. Williams, this is my business partner Jason Burrell.”

Jason stood and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Williams.”

Dione gave him a tight smile, trying to give herself a minute to recoup. “You, too.”

“Can I take your coat?” Garrett stepped behind her and helped her with her coat.

A shiver raced up her spine when his fingers brushed her back, and the subtle scent that he wore, wafted around her, light as a breeze.

“Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable,” Jason said, indicating a chair at the circular conference table.

“Thank you.” Dione slipped her glasses in her purse and sat down, crossing her long legs at the knee.

Garrett and Jason took the two remaining chairs and tried to keep their eyes off her legs.

“I hope you don't mind if Jason sits in on the meeting,” Garrett stated more than asked.

“Not at all.” Now she wished she had brought Brenda along. At least between the two of them, one would have been able to pay attention to what was being said and not the timbre of Garrett's voice or the brilliance of his dimpled smile.

“Good.” He blew out a breath and folded his hands on the table. “I know you probably have a lot of questions about the proposal, so why don't you start.”

Now she was in her element. She could focus on what she'd come to say and not how he kept making her stomach jump up and down every time he looked in her direction. She cleared her throat. “Not so much questions,” she began in that low-down voice that shimmied in the air then settled in the center of his belly and vibrated. “More like guidelines.”

“Fine. Let's hear them.”

Item by item she went down a laundry list of “do nots.”

“The outside of the building can never be filmed at any time. I have to ensure their privacy and in some instances their safety. None of the girls can be filmed or interviewed without a staff member present and they are not to be asked questions without being advised what they will be beforehand.”

Minute by minute Garrett was becoming more annoyed. By the time she finished with her litany of what he couldn't do, he wouldn't have anything worth filming. Yet even with his anger rising to the surface like molten lava, ready to overflow and scorch everything in its path, he couldn't help but be fascinated by Dione. He could hear the intelligence, determination and fire in her voice. He could see the intensity and passion flame in her eyes, and feel the strength that radiated from her like an erotic scent, all mixed together in one incredible package.

So what made a woman like Dione Williams use all her intellect, beauty and strong will to work with a group of loose, moralless girls?

“Does that about cover everything, Ms. Williams?” Garrett asked when she'd finally concluded.

Jason shot him a look, knowing that Garrett was ready to bust, which Garrett totally ignored.

“There won't be much for us to shoot,” he added.

She could see his smile was forced, but he couldn't hide that dimple if he tried.
Stay focused, girl.
“I'm sure if you're as skilled as you claim in your proposal you'll find enough for your film.” She angled her chin in a challenge.

Hmm. He liked that. She didn't back down. There was obviously no compromise with this one.

Garrett leaned forward, his voice dropped to a new low. “Believe me, Ms. Williams, I
am
as good as I say.”

She suddenly felt as if a raging furnace door had been opened and she was standing right in front. His comment was purely casual, it was the tone and the swift, dark look in his eyes that rocked her to the core.

She gave him a cursory smile. “We'll have to see now, won't we?” She stood. “May I have that tour now?”

“Sure.” He stood up. “Follow me.”

“Oh, I'll just cover things until you get back,” Jason said, giving Garrett a wink on the side. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Williams. Looking forward to working with you.” He handed her her coat, which she draped over her arm.

Dione extended her hand and smiled. “Nice meeting you, also.”

Garrett and Dione stepped out into the corridor and across the hall. “A couple of my crew members are shooting a PSA—a public service announcement—in the main studio.”

“How many do you have—studios?” she asked as they walked into the control room and stood in the doorway.

“Two. The second one is down the hall.”

She watched the three monitors in the control room while the woman on the screen told whoever cared to listen why they should make a donation to the historical society.

“That's Najashi,” he whispered not wanting to disturb them, as he pointed to a man in all black with the short twists in his hair. “And that's Tom on the end working the audio.”

The first thing she noticed about Tom was the tattoo of a snake that peeked out from the collar of his oversized Tommy Hilfiger shirt.

“Come on, I'll show you where the real work is done.”

He took her into the editing room, closed the door and dimmed the lights. Dione's pulse quickened. Her body and mind went on full alert.

Garrett didn't even notice her agitation. Once in the dimly lit editing room,
he
was in his element, explaining the different machines and lighted dials, what they did and how a program was put together from raw footage.

“Sometimes it can take hours just to put five minutes worth of usable footage together. But it's the key to making the work look good.”

On the monitors, he showed her some of the projects he'd worked on and what each one was about.

As she listened to him talk, her tension slowly began to ebb. She could tell that he loved and believed in what he did, and he probably was just as good as he claimed. She had to admit she liked listening to the deep resonance of his voice when he spoke, watching the cool control of his long fingers as he demonstrated how the equipment worked and the way he took his time and answered her myriad questions about what each machine did and how without making her feel silly.

It was fascinating. And so was Garrett Lawrence.

“That's about it for the dog and pony show,” he said switching off the tape and turning to her in the black swivel chair.

There was that nice smile again.

“Very nice,” she said in her best, I-don't-impress-easily voice.

His smile didn't waver.
She's a tough one.

“How long do you think our, I mean the documentary project will take to complete?”

Oh, I heard that one. You're not as cool as you'd like me to think.
“Hmm. If we get started within the next week, hopefully before Christmas.”

“Christmas! But I need—I mean, why will it take so long? The whole point in my agreeing was to…get this over and done with as quickly as possible. I don't want your filming to interrupt the girls' holidays.” She'd be damned if she'd tell him that Chances Are was in financial trouble and it needed this documentary to appeal to funders.

“Is interrupting the holidays another no-no that you forgot to mention?” He hated the holiday season. It always reminded him of what he'd never had. So he always made it a point of working right through them. Kept his mind off himself. After so many years he rarely thought of what it meant to others and didn't care to know.

Her eyes widened and she was just about to open her mouth when Garrett held up his hand. “Listen, like I said before, the whole process takes time. We both want a great piece of work. Now I can come in and do something half-assed—excuse me, I mean—-no, that's exactly what I mean.” His eyes narrowed. “Or I can do what I know I can do—a fantastic job that everyone can be proud of. It's your choice.”

He leaned back in his seat, angled his head to the right and folded his arms.

Three months, she thought. That would barely give her enough time to resubmit any proposal before the end of the year. And then an idea began to emerge.

“Mr. Lawrence, how successful are those PSA things?”

He shrugged. “They get people's attention if they're positioned right. Some of my clients swear by them.”

“Do you think you could do some for me—for Chances Are while you work on the documentary?”

“Sure, I don't see why not.”

She blew out a sigh of relief. Maybe she could get Terri to work out a publicity plan and use the PSA along with it. “When can we get started?”

Her excitement over the possibility sparkled in her eyes, Garrett noticed. “Whenever you're ready.” He shrugged. “Tomorrow?”

She laughed. “How about next week?”

He liked the way she laughed, soft, but from deep inside. “Next week is fine. I'll check our schedule before you leave and give you a date. Do you want to do it here or at your place?”

She knew what he was asking, but the question still sounded so provocative. “What do you think would be best?”

“We can do one of each. And a combination of both.” He grinned, slow and easy.

Her heart fluttered. “Great.”

“But in the meantime, fair is fair, Ms. Williams. I showed you mine, when will you show me yours?”

Oh, these word games.
The corner of her mouth curved up. “Call my office in the morning. I'll make arrangements.”

“I'll do that.” His gaze held hers.

She took a breath. “I'd better be going.”

He took her coat from her arm and helped her to put it on.

She could have sworn he was standing a bit too close, especially when she felt his warm breath run along the back of her neck.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

“I'll walk you out.”

When they reached the front door, she turned to him. “Thank you for a very informative afternoon.”

“No problem.”

They stood there looking at each other seeming not to know what to do next.

Dione swallowed. “I'll expect your call in the morning.”

“First thing. But until then, don't keep me in suspense. Who's going to be your on-air personality for the PSA?”

She smiled. “Me.”

His gaze rolled over her then back up to her eyes. The right corner of his mouth curved and his eyebrows arched. “Ever been in front of a camera before, Ms. Williams?”

“No. But I'm certain you'll make sure it doesn't look that way.” She turned and walked toward her car.

“It will be my pleasure,” he whispered, as he watched her slip behind the steering wheel. “It certainly will.”

D
ione arrived at work the following morning before anyone in the house had even gotten up for the day. It was barely seven-thirty and she'd been through the building twice. Checking. She wanted to be sure that everything was in place, that Garrett Lawrence could find no fault with her domain. She couldn't put on a sideshow the way he had done, but she could certainly show him that she ran
her
facility with the same amount of care and attention to detail that he did. To her, finding fault with Chances Are was like finding fault with her. And for reasons that she didn't want to admit, it mattered more than usual that Garrett Lawrence saw nothing but perfection.

When the phone rang at seven forty-five, her heart jumped. She picked up on the second ring.

“Good morning. Chances Are. Ms. Williams speaking.”

“Good morning.” He was pleasantly surprised to hear her voice. He hadn't expected her to be there. Did she live there, too? “Hope I'm not calling too early. But I'm an early riser. This is Garrett Lawrence.”

There was no need for him to identify himself. She'd heard that voice of his in her dreams. “Not at all. I've been here for a while.”

Answers that question.
“Just calling to confirm about today—for the visit. I thought about ten. If that's good for you.”

“Ten is fine. Things should be calmed down by then.”

“Calmed down?”

She laughed lightly. “What I mean is, chaos reigns supreme from about seven-thirty to nine, when everyone is rushing around trying to get ready for school, or work and getting the children that stay on-site down to childcare.”

He frowned. “They go to school and work?” the incongruity of the idea momentarily stumbling his thinking.

She heard the disbelief in his voice and although she was used to it in most others, in Garrett she was disappointed.

“Of course. That's just one of the many criteria we have for the girls staying here.”

“Hmm.”

He almost sounded as if he thought she were lying. Now she really was annoyed. “Is there a problem, Mr. Lawrence?” she asked, snapping him to attention.

“No. Not at all.”

“Then I'll see you at ten.”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“Goodbye.” She hung up the phone, then stared at it for a few minutes. “I know what you're thinking, Mr. Lawrence. Well your thoughts are just about to be changed.”

“I thought I heard somebody moving around. What in the world are you doing here so early?” Betsy shuffled into the room, still dressed in her nightgown and robe.

“I had a lot I wanted to get out of the way before everyone was up and about.”

“Mmm. It must have kept you up last night to get you in here this early.” She yawned. “Anything I can help you with?”

“No. But I just want to let you know that the producer will be here today to take a tour of the building.”

Betsy straightened, fully awake. “Why didn't you say so? I got to get these lazy girls up and together. Make sure their apartments are up to par. You know how they can leave their places sometime when they run outta here in the morning.”

“Maybe you can select one or two apartments for the visit and just let those girls know.”

Betsy nodded. “That'll be easier. Kisha usually keeps a neat place, and Theresa.”

“Perfect. And it'll be good for Theresa. Make her feel she's a part of things.”

“I'll get them up right now and let them know.” She turned away, then stopped. “So what's this man like?”

“Seems to know what he's doing.”

“I sure hope so,” she mumbled, moving away. “For these girls' sake. I sure do.”

Dione blew out a breath. “So do I,” she whispered, even as the memory of the tingle of his touch raised the hair on the back of her neck.

By the time Brenda arrived at eight, the building was virtually vibrating with energy. She could hear excited voices and footsteps darting across the hall above her head, and spotted several girls dashing up the staircase. She walked into the office while pulling off her coat, surprised to see Dione.

“Morning. What's going on? Feels like electric wires running through here. Betsy on another surprise inspection tear again?” She slid open the closet door, hung up her coat and sat down at her totally organized desk. She shifted her pencil cup to the center of the desk.

Dione smiled. “Something like that. Garrett Lawrence is stopping by this morning to take a tour. I wanted to make sure that everything was in order. He'll be taking a look at Kisha's and Theresa's apartments.”

Brenda immediately noticed that Dione wouldn't look at her while she was talking, something very unusual for Dee. Brenda swiveled her chair fully in Dione's direction.

“So, the meeting went well.”

“I think so.” She shuffled some papers on the desk. “While I was there they were shooting a public service announcement for another organization. Mr. Lawrence said they work pretty well in getting attention. So I thought that we could do one and give it to my friend Terri, let her work up a promotional package for us.”

“Sounds good to me. But what about the documentary?”

Dione explained about the length of time it would take to complete and her anxiety about not having enough time to resubmit the proposals.

Brenda blew out a breath and slowly shook her head of spiral curls. “If it's not one thing it's something else. But at least we'll have a shot with this public service thing.”

“That's what I'm hoping.”

Brenda looked at Dione's profile for a long moment, assessing the faraway look in her expression. Although they weren't what you would call best friends, and didn't share a lot of personal secrets, she felt she knew Dione well enough to sense when something was troubling her. But Dione had always been so self-contained, in control and focused. She seemed to have her life totally together. And even in the three years that she'd been working at Chances Are, Dione never shared her life story or why she decided to open the house. No more had ever been said beyond, “It's something I felt compelled to do. Someone had to do it.”

Dione Williams was a private person. No one seemed to really know what drove her. What gave her the determination and drive. Maybe that's just the way she was. But Brenda had serious doubts that it was that simple. Something pushed Dione Williams. Whatever it was, it had one helluva hold on her.

“What time is this guy coming?”

“Ten.” She fidgeted with the collar of her camel-colored silk blouse, then suddenly stood. “I'm going to check with Betsy. See how she's making out with the girls. It's time for day care to open.”

Brenda watched her walk out and wondered again what was stirring beneath the cool-watered surface.

For the third time that morning, Dione inspected her building from top to bottom, finally stopping in the basement where day care was in full swing.
Sesame Street
was playing from the small, portable television, the soft scent of baby powder and sweet formula filled the air.

Betsy looked up from changing the diaper of one of the toddlers, seeing Dione standing in the doorway. Betsy set the baby boy down on the floor, gave him a light tap on his bottom and crossed the pale blue floor. She stopped directly in front of Dione, the top of her graying head just reaching Dione's chin. She stroked her cheek.

“What's wrong, chile? You got that haunted look in your eyes like when you was worrying over one thing or the other. Or about that baby girl of yours.”

Dione forced a tight-lipped smile. “Just want to make sure everything is okay.” She looked over Betsy's head, her eyes scanning the room.

“Of course everything is okay. Now, you want to tell me what's really bothering you, Dione Williams?”

Dione met Betsy's eyes. “I don't want them to find any fault. We need this thing to work Betsy.” The little Betsy did know about their situation was enough. She didn't want to tell her just how desperate things were. That she hadn't taken a paycheck in more than a month, that she stayed up nights working and reworking the figures to make sure that the bills and the staff were paid, that the politicians were no longer interested in the plight of homeless young mothers, they had new agendas. How could she tell this to the woman whom she'd silently pledged to take care of?

“Of course it will. You just need to have a little faith.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Did you make out okay with Kisha and Theresa?”

Betsy waved her hand in dismissal. “Those two were so excited, I almost couldn't get them out of here for school and Theresa off to that special reading test.”

Dione smiled, then checked her watch. “I'd better get upstairs.” She turned to go.

“I know something's bothering you, Dione,” Betsy said, halting Dione's exit. “Let it go. Everything will work out. Always has.”

Dione nodded, wanting to believe. But it had always been hard for her to have blind faith, ceaseless hope. She couldn't depend on the intangible things—things she couldn't see, couldn't touch. Hopes and dreams dissolved, like mist burned off after the morning sunrise. She couldn't trust emotion, only reality. Emotion got you in trouble. Made you stop thinking with your head. She couldn't afford that. Emotion had cost her once, she couldn't let it cost her again. Especially now.

 

Garrett slowed to a stop in front of the building and checked the address against the one written on the slip of paper. Frowning, he leaned closer to the passenger window and checked again. His gaze ran up and down the well-kept brownstone, the curtains and blinds that lined the oversized windows.

This couldn't be the place. Maybe he'd gotten the address wrong. But he was pretty sure he hadn't. This was a shelter? His vision of a shelter was nothing like what was in front of him. Probably just a front, he concluded. They couldn't very well have an eyesore in the center of this middle-class neighborhood. He was certain the inside would meet his expectations.

He shut off the car, took his portfolio from the passenger seat and got out.

 

By the time Dione reached the main floor, she spotted Garrett through the glass-and-oak door, and was once again seized with a gentle wave of caressing heat, her earlier frustration soothed and massaged away.

She took a breath and unlocked the door, putting on her best, happy-to-see-you smile.

“Right on time,” she greeted, stepping aside to let him pass. She caught a whiff of his cologne.

“That's just one of my many attributes.” He gave her that dimpled smile and tugged off his Chicago Bulls baseball cap.

For a moment their gazes connected and Dione had the strangest feeling that he wasn't talking about his filming talents.