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Dobson paused a beat and then heartily agreed with Cole’s suggestion.
“Feel free to invite any of the directors on your board to the meeting next week,” Cole continued. “I want each and every one of them to be comfortable with the Serenghetti team.”
There was another beat before the principal responded. “I can assure you that the board couldn’t have been more pleased to hear the Serenghetti name mentioned in connection with both the fund-raiser and the construction of the gym. They need no reassurance.”
Cole smiled, glad that he and Dobson understood each other. Clearly, the principal was savvy himself. He appeared to have done the math and realized that a free appearance by a hockey star or two was worth plenty to the school’s bottom line. Cole made a mental note to call Jordan and tell him that both of them would be showing up for Pershing Shines Bright.
Thinking he needed to do Marisa a favor for keeping her word, Cole went on, “Invite Ms. Danieli to the meeting, too. If she’s in charge of the fund-raiser, she’ll need to be able to speak knowledgeably to potential donors about the building project.”
“Excellent idea,” Dobson concurred. “I will let her know.”
As soon as his conversation with the principal had ended, Cole called his youngest brother and put him on speakerphone.
“Put the Pershing School benefit on your calendar,” he told Jordan without prelude. “I’ll email you the date and time when I get them from Marisa. You and I will be making an appearance in our best penguin suits or closest equivalent.”
As he spoke, he opened a blank email and began drafting a message to Marisa. Did she have a black-tie event in mind? He hadn’t concerned himself with the details up to now. He also needed to tell her that Jordan would be participating, too. He didn’t pause now to analyze why he was relishing communicating with her, even if just by email, after the dead air between them since she’d shown up at his office.
Jordan’s unmistakable chuckle sounded over the phone line. “First, you told me to stay away from Marisa, now you want me to attend her fund-raiser with you. Which is it? And more important, will you be a good date?”
Cole figured he should have expected Jordan’s needling. “You wouldn’t be my date for the fund-raiser, numbskull.”
“Why, Cole,” his brother cooed, “you do know how to break someone’s heart. Did I lose out to Marisa, or is there another teacher who’s gotten you hot under the collar lately?”
“Later, Jordan.” Cole punched the button to end the call.
He finished his email, and then, after finding an address for Marisa on Pershing’s website, fired it off.
Leaning back in his chair again, he allowed himself momentary satisfaction at cutting off JM Construction. Now all he needed to do was wait for Marisa to come calling with the details...
* * *
The second time wasn’t as intimidating, Marisa thought, as she walked through Serenghetti Construction’s offices on a Thursday afternoon.
Last week she’d sat in on a meeting between Mr. Dobson and Cole and his architectural firm to discuss the contract to build Pershing’s gym. The talk had been about use requirements, building permits and environmental impact. Then there’d been a discussion of hardwood, maple grades, subflooring, HVAC systems and disability access. Marisa had jotted notes to keep up with the onslaught of details. She’d been aware of Cole’s gaze on her from time to time as he’d talked, but she’d kept her head down and stayed in the background, asking only a couple of questions.
She was a teacher, not a builder, but she’d known as soon as the meeting was over that she would have to do some serious studying if she hoped one day to be an assistant principal. School administrators like Mr. Dobson had more on their plate than the curriculum. They were also responsible for the physical condition of the school buildings that they oversaw.
In fact, she had done a little online research this past weekend because today she had to deal with Cole all by herself. She was supposed to look at architectural plans and give her input to Mr. Dobson. The principal had asked her to look at the plans for other athletic facilities built by Serenghetti Construction.
She should be happy about her expanded responsibilities because maybe it was a sign that Mr. Dobson would consider her for a promotion. But instead, her thoughts were on Cole. Since their meeting last week, her communication with him had been limited. They’d exchanged brief emails about the time and place of the fund-raiser, and he’d signed off on the use of his bio and photo.
But her active imagination had filled in what had been left unsaid. She’d gone over every look and word that Cole had given her during their meeting with Mr. Dobson and the architect. She’d also replayed their last conversation at his office—especially the part about wishing their relationship had turned out differently.
She was grateful to him for agreeing to do the fund-raiser. And vulnerable and attracted...
Danger, danger, danger... She could never become involved with Cole. Not with her family history. She’d lived with the consequences of the past her whole life, even if she hadn’t known the details until her twenties.
Bringin
g herself back to the present, she gave her name to the receptionist, who directed her toward Cole’s office with little fanfare.
When she reached Cole’s door, he looked up, as if sensing her there.
“Marisa.” He stood and came around his desk.
Her pulse picked up, and she stepped into the room, resisting the urge to hug her light blazer to her instead of leaving it draped over one arm. As usual, she was hit with an overwhelming awareness of him as a man. Today he was dressed in a suit but he had shed his jacket and tie. Still, even though he wasn’t in full corporate uniform, he appeared every inch the successful and wealthy business executive.
Marisa shifted. She’d dressed in a striped shirt and navy pants—an appropriate and understated outfit in her opinion. She dared him to take note of her clothing one more time and call her a cliché.
