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Davia shrugged. “Did your uncle ever mention the place?” She strolled back to her desk, resting against the edge once more.
“Not a peep.” Kale pushed off from the window. “I never heard of it before talking to my lawyer yesterday.”
“Yeah, me, either.” Davia sighed. “I guess it’s worth it to at least go and see what’s out there. Then I can decide where to go from there.”
“Well, just so you know, I don’t plan to fight over it—whatever it is. I mean to accept whatever offer you make me and I only plan to accept it from you.”
Davia closed her mouth once she’d finally realized it was hanging open. Easing off the desk, she reclaimed the chair behind it. “Why would you do something like that?” she managed to ask after a lengthy pause. “From what I’ve heard, there’s some developer already interested in the area. You’re sure to get a pretty penny from selling to them. Why give me the option?”
Kale claimed the spot Davia had abandoned along the edge of her desk. “A few reasons.”
She laughed, swiveling her chair a bit. “You still haven’t shared all the reasons you came to see me.”
“That’s right.” He gave a playful wince that simply intensified the dreamy appeal of his creamy, chocolate-doused features. “Like I said, I came to see you about selling the place.” His expression turned more serious and his eyes darkened. “I also came to see if you were as incredible to look at in person as you were in the file photo my lawyer gave to me.”
Davia felt her heart make an unexpected and frantic shimmy into the back of her throat.
“And...I came to talk to you about Martella Friedman.”
Davia’s heart stumbled into a suddenly upset stomach. She sighed. “And just when we were getting along so well.”
Chapter 3 (#u11d3f8b8-d5a5-5f54-b6d4-953f007d3c02)
“So your generous offer is motivated by guilt.”
“No.”
Davia regarded him through narrowed eyes. “Then why are we discussing Martella Friedman?”
“Because you’re misinformed about what went on there.”
“I see... Misinformed that you seduced her business out from under her.”
His laughter was brief yet full of genuine humor.
“Very misinformed,” he insisted.
Davia resented the feel of her mouth tightening but she couldn’t help it. “Kale, this all went down years ago, you know? Why offer an explanation about it now?”
“We’ve never been business partners before.”
“We aren’t business partners now.”
He gave a slight nod. “Closest we’ve ever come.”
“Not quite.” Davia left her chair and returned to stare out over her view again.
“I was there the day her creditors came calling.”
Davia rounded on him, her expression a mixture of amazement and suspicion. “I think you mean her predators.” The clarification sounded hard as stone.
Kale seemed satisfied. “Looks like we’ve at least got a little information in common.”
Davia turned to the windows again. She didn’t want to cry for her friend in front of this man—this stranger. “So, what happened? How is it you came to own Tella’s theater?”
Kale smoothed his fist inside his palm. “I think you know I don’t own it now.”
“But you did. Explain that.”
Kale took a seat in Davia’s desk chair, appreciating the decadent peach suede encasing every inch of the furnishing. “I was there that day for inspiration for an annex I was building on one of my multiplexes. I was looking for something inviting, quaint... Martella’s theater had what I wanted...what I was hoping to recreate in my spot. That’s all. We weren’t in business, Davia.” He waited, hoping she would turn so that he could judge her expression. There, he hoped to find just a little understanding. When she didn’t turn, he continued.
“I was on my way out for the day. I was in town for a few days and had planned to come back to make a few notes before I left for Miami. I went by her office to let her know that I was going and I overheard her inside with her...creditors. It didn’t take much to get the gist of what was up. The place wasn’t open yet for business. I guess they figured they’d caught her there alone.” He paused as the memory overtook him.
“I was about to go in to break their legs before they could break hers—which was what they were threatening.”
By then Davia had turned from the window. Her gaze was rapt with interest as she absorbed the story. “Did you think you could take them?” She tried to ease her jitters by teasing.
Kale smirked a little. “Not before I got in the office.” He shrugged. “Then I was pretty sure I could, but I also heard her telling them she’d have all the money with interest by the following Monday. I heard the figure, went in there and made a big deal about the place being just what I wanted. Then I made an offer. Forty K over what she needed.”
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.
“I pretended to be surprised when I noticed her friends,” he went on. “I told her I was ready to transfer money as soon as I saw the paperwork and such. Told her I’d be back with my people later in the week.” He smirked again, the gesture carrying lethal intent.
“The garbage in there with her said it wouldn’t be necessary, that they were on their way out. They left and she broke down, told me everything. The gambling—how deep she was in and to how many people. I wound up padding a hundred K onto what she owed to the guys in her office.”
While Kale talked, Davia sat in a chair in front of her desk. “But what happened? How—?”
“I made the mistake of returning with one hundred and seventy-five thousand in cash.”
Davia closed her eyes and hung her head. “Tella...” she whispered, lamenting her friend.
“Even still, she wanted everything by the book. She would’ve refused the money otherwise. She didn’t want it to look like a handout.” Kale shook his head. “I had the papers in hand the next day.” He left the desk chair. Fist clenched, he slowly paced the area behind it.
“I was an idiot,” he said, his rich voice carrying across the room, “charging in there like that without bothering to think. I should’ve known when I heard how much she was in for that she had a serious problem. I should’ve anticipated that she’d—”
“You couldn’t have anticipated that.” Davia scooted toward the edge of her chair. “She didn’t want help. Not the kind we were trying to give her. Not the help she really needed.” She slumped back then and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“I’d been talking to her about selling the theater to me. She wouldn’t even consider taking my money outright when I offered—and it looked like she was even going to turn down my offer to buy it.” Davia let out a soft, cold laugh. “Had I made the kind of gesture you did—padding the offer like that—she probably wouldn’t have accepted that, either.”
Kale’s fierce expression had softened as he’d listened. “Sometimes it’s easier to accept help from strangers than friends. How long have you guys been close?” He came over to take the empty chair beside her.
“Since college.” Davia gave a shaky smile. “When I found out her family was in the theater business, my aunt went with me for a weekend visit.” She closed her eyes in appreciation of the memory. “Such an amazing place...”
“Very amazing,” Kale said.
“That weekend we saw Bram Stoker’s Dracula.” She smiled as she remembered.
“Coppola’s?” Kale queried.
She nodded. “This was several years after the movie originally premiered. Tella’s family was known for doing theme weekends. That weekend all the films were dedicated to the infamous Count and it rained the whole time. The theater had such a cozy old-world style. It was the perfect venue to screen a period piece like that, not to mention all the others we saw. It was a fun trip. My aunt had the best time getting to know Tella’s family and I had the best time getting to know Tella a little better.”
Again, Davia felt tears pressuring for release. Again, she willed them back before she turned to Kale. “Why didn’t you ever say what really happened instead of letting folks believe you—?”
“Because letting them believe that bile was better than the true filth of it. At least, what I saw as being filth.”
“You tried to help.”
Kale snorted. “I’ve wondered about that over the years. Wondered if it was all about me trying to make myself feel better in the moment. Like I’d come to the rescue and been the kind of gentleman my uncle always swore a real man should aspire to be.”
He rolled his eyes. “That was someone I had no interest in being. Women always gave me what I wanted without me ever having to play the gentleman’s role.”
“Gave? Past tense?”
Thoughtful listener indeed, Kale mused. “They still do. I guess somewhere along the way I started having a problem with it.” Suddenly he laughed. The gesture held no amusement. “Had I thought more about what Martella really needed—”
The phone’s shrill buzz filled the room and Davia didn’t know whether to celebrate or curse the interruption. Moreover, she didn’t know what to do with the sudden empathy she was feeling for a man she’d practically loathed for the past several years.
Pushing up from the chair, she leaned over the desk to grab the phone. It was her assistant. “Hey, Maggie.”
“Davia, sorry for the interruption.” Maggie Phelps’s airy voice breezed through the receiver. “Leslie told me you were in there with Kale Asante. Is he as sweet and sexy as she claims?”
In her own sly manner, Davia surveyed her guest, who had turned to stare out at the view. “A definite yes to the second and a possible yes to the first.”
“Well, I’m sorry to take you away from your meeting, but I figured this concerned you both.”
“How so?”
“I’ve got an Estelle Waverly on the line. She’s calling from Mullins, Iowa.”
“A call from Mullins?” Davia said for Kale’s benefit.
He turned, curiosity alive in the chocolaty pools of his deep stare.
“Put it through, Maggie,” Davia instructed and then put the phone on speaker. She waited a beat before greeting the caller. “Mrs. Waverly? This is Davia Sands. I’m here with Kale Asante.”
“Oh, that’s great! I’m so glad I caught you both together.” The woman’s voice surged into the room.
Kale reclaimed his preferred spot at the edge of Davia’s desk. “Mrs. Waverly, is there a problem?” he asked.
“Will the two of you be able to make it to the town council meeting? Did your attorneys tell you about it?” the woman asked.
Kale and Davia traded looks.
“We know about it,” Davia said.
“Are we expected to attend?” Kale picked up on the anxious quality in the woman’s voice.
Estelle Waverly chortled. “It depends on who you ask. My husband’s uncle—Chase Waverly—was the original owner of the property. The story of how you two came to own it is an involved one best saved for when you arrive. Can we count on you to be here?”
“You’ve got us curious, Mrs. Waverly,” Davia replied. “I can’t help but say that curiosity does include a fair amount of suspicion.”
“Sounds like this is about more than Ms. Sands and I coming to take a look at property we’ve inherited,” Kale tacked on.
Estelle Waverly released another of her delicate laughs. “Oh, Mr. Asante, it’s definitely about more than that. Please tell me you’ll be here for the meeting.”
Kale and Davia exchanged another look before she accepted the invite. “We’ll be there, Mrs. Waverly.”
“Fantastic! Thank you both so much!” The smile was evident in the woman’s voice. “There’s no need to make hotel arrangements,” she was saying. “My husband and I own the town bed-and-breakfast, and your rooms are already prepared. Pack warmly, it’s January and this is Iowa, after all.” She sighed. “Our apologies for this all sounding so unorthodox, but I think you’ll have a better understanding of things once we’ve had the chance to speak in person. Thank you both again.”
The connection broke. Kale and Davia stared at the dead phone for several silent seconds.
“What is it we’re considering exactly?” Davia queried finally.
Kale was shaking his head slowly. “Guess we’ll find out when we get to Mullins.”
“Why do I get the feeling we’re going to be there for more than a few days?” Davia tapped her nails along the top of her desk.
Kale grinned. “At least we know our rooms are ready.”
Davia wasn’t feeling so at ease. “Did you come to San Francisco on your own, Kale, or is your lawyer here?”
“I’m alone. I hadn’t actually planned to go any farther.”
“Well, it looks like we’re both heading out there without anyone to watch our backs, then. I kind of left my lawyer hanging on whether I wanted her along on this first trip. Now I’m regretting I didn’t ask her to join me.”
Kale nodded. “You know, some might argue if I claim I’m not a sexist, but I’m perfectly fine with you watching my back.”
Davia had to smile.
“I won’t take offense if you don’t feel comfortable saying the same, but I’ll watch your back, anyway.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Her smile held. “So why do you think Estelle Waverly wouldn’t say more over the phone?” Though she honestly wanted to hear his answer, Davia was more interested in avoiding answers about where she stood on the subject of his true involvement with Martella Friedman.
Kale got to his feet. “At least she told us our coming there is about more than just looking at property we inherited.”
“I feel like I should be exercising some sense of precaution, but my curiosity is winning out.”
“Mine, too.” Kale was heading for the bar but paused midstep to gesture toward it instead. “That offer for a drink still stand?” he asked.
Davia gave a consenting wave and began to pace the perimeter of her office. Moments later she was dialing her assistant.
“Maggie, have you printed my tickets to Iowa yet?” Davia felt a hand at her elbow while Maggie’s voice filled her ear.
“Have her cancel the tickets,” Kale was saying.
Frowning, Davia slowly tuned into Maggie telling her the task was next on her list. “Hey, Mag, hold off on that, will you? I’ll call you back in a sec.” She hung up and looked at Kale. “Cancel the tickets?”
He gave her a look of phony discomfort. “Would telling you that I own a jet make you hate me even more?”
