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“Yes.” Her breathless answer made him wonder what was on her mind. “I have to be the one to fill in when the volunteers take off. I don’t mind at all. It gives me lots of variety to my days, but no, most of the time I’m on the phone trying to convince people to give.”
Torrian recalled the large amount of money he had arranged to give anonymously to the center. He had also inquired about the building’s sale. If he bought it, he could turn it over to the community for permanent use as it was being used now. He realized his decision was for Jaz’s sake, but he didn’t care. Money meant nothing to him. He had it, so he gave it.
“Tell me what you meant in the e-mail,” he said.
Still, she hesitated.
“Please,” he encouraged her.
“Come to the center, Torrian.”
A thrill raced through him at her pronunciation of his name.
“Just come and do something. It doesn’t have to be big. You don’t have to run a class or talk to anyone if you don’t want to, but you need to be here.”
He wondered if she was telling him he belonged in the community, and he didn’t believe that.
“We don’t have to be lovers.” She spoke the words softly, and at first he thought he imagined them. Why would he? That wasn’t what he wanted. When he opened his mouth to answer, the quietness of the line struck him, and he pulled the phone from his ear to look at the screen. She’d disconnected. Her words echoed back to him again. They didn’t have to be lovers? Oh yes, they most certainly did.
* * * *
“But what if I can’t get a loan?” the sixteen-year-old asked Torrian when he’d outlined some of the services the Small Business Loan Administration offered.
“Then you can look into angel corporations, friends, family. I’ll put together a list with resources, but if that doesn’t work, and even if it does, you start small. Really small. You work two jobs if you have to and you save. However, first, everything starts with a plan.”
Torrian’s beautiful assistant began passing out the packets he had put together for the class. He tried not to stare, but a few of the kids had already noticed the way he looked at her and teased him about it. Aside from his inescapable attraction to Jaz, Torrian loved the class. Jaz had been right. He needed this. The kids looked up to him. They respected what he had to say, and every one of them was serious about becoming a success with their own business. He knew that was because Jaz didn’t allow anyone to sign up who didn’t take this particular offering very seriously. He’d heard her lecturing a few kids she had dropped from the program because of their attitudes. “Mess around with basketball, or the fishing class, whatever, but not this one. If you want to play games, this class isn’t for you. Period.”
Torrian admired her. She worked hard and was focused. Others were drawn to her. Maybe he should force Marcos to take a class taught by her, he thought amused. When the classes ended for the day, Jaz bought him dinner, and they ate together in rooms after all the kids went home or down the hall to the gym. Torrian eyed the spaghetti dinner in a Styrofoam container and frowned.
“Do
you cook?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes at him and smirked. “I know you aren’t saying all women should.”
“No, just curious.” He liked that she wasn’t easily offended when he put his foot in his mouth. “I can burn pretty decently.”
She gaped. “You can cook?”
“No, I said I can burn.”
She burst out laughing. “That’s an old expression meaning a person is a good cook.”
“Oh.” He shook his head. “No, I can’t cook.” He started to say he hadn’t been in the kitchen to attempt to cook for himself since he was a teenager. His godfather had kept a housekeeper, and he in turn kept one after he bought his own house. As a teen with his mother high all the time, he had warmed food from cans in the microwave. That was as far as he’d ever gotten.
“I do okay,” she said, “but I’m always busy. I don’t like to slow down much. So, I just get takeout. I know it’s not healthy, and one day it’ll catch up to me. You already saw what a great housekeeper I am at home.”
He grinned. Her entire apartment hadn’t been as big as his cellar, and she was right, it had been cluttered and unorganized. At the time, he hadn’t cared because his gaze stayed on her—the way it did now.
“So,” she said, pointing her plastic fork at him, “you’ll have to look for your Suzy Homemaker in another woman.”
That made him curious. He knew it was a dangerous game to speak so seriously about forever with a woman. Avoiding it had become a skill, but he didn’t mind talking to Jaz about any subject. “So you don’t want to get married some day?”
“Of course.” She wiped a napkin across sexy lips. “I want a husband, even kids. Most women probably do. I just haven’t found him.”
“Kids, huh?” He imagined a mini-Jaz, big brown eyes, innocent, and sweet. “I would like five.”
She choked on her spaghetti, and Torrian scooted closer to her to pound her back. When she could drag in a breath, she pushed his hands away. “I’m fine. Wow, you caught me off guard. You really want five kids?”
