Personal Assets (Texas Nights) (16 page)

As soon as Eden resettled in her chair, Allie gulped half her wine and placed the glass within close reach. “The bank is calling in my business loan, requiring the seventy-five thousand to be repaid in fourteen—now thirteen—days.”

Roxanne’s orgasmic expression fled, replaced by wide eyes that held something dangerously close to fear. “The bank or your dad?”

The wine Allie had tossed back fermented to vinegar in her stomach. “My dad.”

Eden almost tipped over in her seat. “Can he do that?”

“He claims I
misrepresented
the nature of my business when I applied for the loan. Therefore, the bank has the right to require it be paid back in full.”

Roxanne grabbed the wine, filled Allie’s glass again and then chugged straight from the bottle. Oh, Lord have mercy, her hands were shaking. Allie had never seen that before.

She hated letting people down, and that was exactly what she was doing. Heck, she wasn’t letting Roxanne down, she was dragging her down as surely as if she’d tied a cinder block to her ankle and shoved her into Lake Lily.

Roxanne clenched her hands around the bottle’s neck. “I knew we should have gone to a bank in Houston instead.”

Eden shot Roxanne a reproach-filled look. “This isn’t the time for ‘I told you so.’”

“I know this is all my fault...” Allie twisted her ring. It slipped off her finger, hit the table and bounced to the floor. She scrambled to her knees to pat around for it and looked up to find Roxanne with her head bowed and her eyes closed. Praying or planning an escape strategy? She’d promised Roxanne their businesses would do well even though Shelbyville was small. Up until now, she’d kept that promise.

Now, she might lose not only her business, but her best friend and Roxanne’s livelihood, as well.

“You know this is some new bullshit way for him to control of your life, right?” Roxanne rubbed the corners of her eyes.
Please
,
Jesus
,
don’t let her be wiping away tears.
“Using money to manipulate you like he did when he refused to pay for you to use the dorm laundry room so you’d have to come home to wash clothes.”

Allie’s fingers finally closed around her ring even as her chest caved in from regret. “I guess I wanted to give him one more chance. I wanted to believe he’d want me to succeed. Pretty naïve, huh?”

“Not naïve, hopeful,” Eden said.

Yeah, well, her inner Pollyanna was hereby evicted. Allie reached across the table for Roxanne’s hand. Would she ever forgive her for screwing up something this important? “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I promised we could make these businesses work in my hometown, and my pride and poor decisions have put us both at risk.”

“Don’t you dare tell me you’re sorry.” Roxanne squeezed Allie’s fingers with support she didn’t deserve. “If it weren’t for you, I could’ve never opened Red Light in the first place. Rent, I could handle. Down payment and inventory, I couldn’t.”

“Yeah, and look where it’s gotten us. Seventy-five grand in the hole to one bank and hoping to pay it off with a loan from another bank, which may be easier said than done.”

“We’re in this together, okay?” Roxanne said. “And I still have a few good contacts in Houston.”

“Why aren’t you ranting and raving?” Allie said.

“Truth?” Roxanne tried to smile, but it slid off her face. She downed another swallow of rich merlot, and Allie wished she could make their problems disappear as quickly. “Because I’m scared shitless.”

Pressure reduced the air space in Allie’s chest. That was something Roxanne had never admitted to before, which meant Allie had to try twice as hard to fix this mess. Only problem was she hadn’t a clue where to start.

“Where’s your legal pad?” Eden asked Allie. “Normally you’d be tearing through one, jotting down every idea you could think of.”

“I tried. But I couldn’t think of one blessed thing to put on my list.”

“We will find a solution to this problem.” Eden stood and straightened the food containers, arranging them according to size. She precisely stacked the used dishes and utensils and slid them into a plastic bag to keep them separated from the uneaten food. “I have about ten thousand in my restaurant account—”

“Absolutely not.” To soften her words, Allie drew Eden away from their dinner trash and nudged her into a chair. “I love you for caring. But I created this mess and I have to fix it.”

“I know it’s only a drop in the bucket—” Eden pulled away and glared at Allie, “—but I thought friends supported each other. Guess that either makes me not your friend or you a hypocrite.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We helped her when she needed someone.” Roxanne held out her arms like a referee. “Now she feels like you’re slapping her in the face because you won’t let her help you back.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t mean anything by it,” Eden said. “But for once, I’d like to be the helpful one. You always come through for others, but when do you let anyone help you?”

“She’s right, you know.” Roxanne rose to grab the bottle of port and the wine opener from the end of the table. She pulled the cork and filled everyone’s glass. The generous portion she poured Allie helped take the sting from her words.

“Am I a condescending bitch?” Allie closed her eyes, half afraid of the answer. Jeez, maybe she should’ve just brought a two-by-four in with her and whacked her friends with it. Probably would’ve been a whole lot less painful for them.

Laughter bubbled from around the table. “Not exactly,” Roxanne said. “But you’re a damn hard act to live up to sometimes.”

Thank God for good friends. Best friends. Forgiving friends. “What can I say? It’s a talent.”

“Now, why don’t you tell us why else you look like you lost your last batch of rabbits?” Roxanne made a gimme motion with her fingers. “The money thing isn’t what’s causing your Eeyore impersonation.”

“Owing seventy-five grand is a big damn deal.”

“If you’re swearing,” Eden said, “you obviously need to get something off your chest.”

“C’mon, let’s yank it out of you,” Roxanne said, “and you’ll feel better.”

Maybe she would feel better if she talked about this thing—fling—with Cameron. She caved. “I made a mistake thinking Cameron Wright would be an uncomplicated friend with benefits.” Why had she imagined she could take her own advice and enjoy a purely physical relationship? God, she was a failure all around these days. Couldn’t keep her business afloat and couldn’t keep a man, even on a temporary basis.

Eden’s eyes narrowed. “Um...did someone forget to mention Cameron Wright to me?”

Shoot. She’d been so busy juggling her business life and sex life that she’d forgotten she hadn’t mentioned hers and Cameron’s agreement to Eden. “He...I...it just started a few days ago, and it’s probably a moot point anyway.”

“What happened?”

“If it involved something more than an argument over who was going to risk buying rubbers at McIntosh’s, then the relationship was too complicated anyway,” Roxanne said.

How could Allie confess it had passed complicated when he listened to her whine and rubbed her feet? What man did that?
A
keeper
,
that’s who.
But Cameron wasn’t hers to keep. Not when they’d set a don’t-get-emotional rule. And certainly not when his mom and her dad stood between them.

Allie picked at her cuff, wishing she could straighten out her life with a few well-placed tugs. Instead it was unraveling. “He thinks I’m using him.”

“Aren’t you?” Roxanne asked.

Allie cupped her head in her hands. “Not like he thinks. I was up-front with him about what I wanted and gave him full opportunity to turn me down. He knew what he was getting into.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Problems
.

“He thinks I’m using not only him, but also his mom, to further my business goals.” Roxanne already knew Emmalee had attended a group session, so Allie squashed her guilt over discussing a client. “Last night after we’d...been together—”

“Been together?” Roxanne slapped a palm on the table. “Sugar, you’re a sex counselor. You can say things like
screwed
,
boinked
or the ever-popular
fucked.
”

What about
made love?

No, that was the term she definitely could not use. “After, I was sitting at Cameron’s kitchen table making some notes. When he spotted references to him and his mom, he went ballistic.”

Roxanne’s jaw dropped. “What the hell were you thinking, making one of your little flowcharts when you could’ve been in bed with him instead?”

Allie glanced at the legal pad she had before her even now. “I was inspired.”

“You were insane,” Roxanne said.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Sometimes Eden was spooky, the way she knew things.

For some reason Allie didn’t want to divulge Cameron’s involvement with the committee, but then Eden and Roxanne would hear through the gossip mill, and that wouldn’t be right. “He’s the new chairman for the economic development committee.”

“You’re telling me he’s in bed with your dad?”

She winced at Roxanne’s phrasing but nodded.

“Now we know your dad’s number-one agenda item is to run our two sleazy businesses out of town.”

Allie’s stomach dropped to her ankles. “So you can see why I need a plan.”

“Girlfriend.” Roxanne pushed away from the table and stood with her hands on her hips. “What we need is a copy of
The Art of War.
”

Chapter Thirteen

Charlie eyed Emmalee’s front door and smoothed his golf shirt. Stupid since it was made from that newfangled quick-dry material. He tried to suck in the spare tire around his middle. Damn, he’d been lean and mean when he was courting Vivian.

Courting. Was dating a woman even called that anymore?

Hell, he didn’t know what he was doing. Pouting like a two-year-old and blurting out feelings that had Em cringing against his passenger side door the other night was living proof he was an idiot.

She’d called, invited him over, and he was now so light-headed she might find him passed out on her front porch. “Damn it, Viv. Why’d you have to up and die on me? You know I was never good with all this romance stuff.”

He could imagine his late wife’s snort and response.
Charlie
,
sweetheart
,
you’ve been an insurance salesman all your life.
You know darn well how to make something so attractive that people snap it up like iced tea in hell.

And Lord knew, it was probably wrong to be standing on the lawn of the woman you loved, talking to your dead wife in your head.

He could use a Coors Light, but the last thing he wanted was for Em to smell beer on his breath at one in the afternoon.

He tried not to strangle the roses he’d bought her and tapped on the door.

When she pulled it open, he thought for a second he’d come to the wrong house. Her hair was the same color as always, but she’d cut it in some flippy style. Pretty, but she’d had only one hairdo all the years he’d known her. She wore a white apron, business as usual, but under it was a silky-looking blue sleeveless top and slim ankle-length pants. Flip-flops studded with rhinestones graced her feet, and her toenails were painted the color of a fire engine.

“C’mon in.” Em smiled, but her whole expression was a bit wobbly. Did that mean she was as nervous as he was? “I’m so glad you came.”

He would never say no to this woman. Not if she called at two in the morning asking him to come dance on her rooftop. Not ever. “You mentioned food and I came running.”

She laughed and poked him in the belly he tried to quickly suck in. “I knew that would get you right where I wanted you.”

But would it get him right where he wanted to be? In her life, her bed, her heart?

There he went again, jumping ahead of himself.

“What are you cooking up today?” Something sweet by the scent of vanilla and sugar in the air.

For the first time in years, Charlie felt awkward as a guest in Emmalee’s home. After their disastrous date at Rosa’s, he’d been convinced he’d ruined their long-standing friendship. He didn’t regret what he’d done because his desire to be more than friends had been eating away at him for months, maybe even years. The hell of it was, Emmalee apparently had never considered any of those nights out as dates. She’d seen them as a platonic way to pass the time.

“I thought we’d make something together.”

Lord, the only thing he was worse at than cooking was dancing. “Sounds fun.”

Vivian whispered in his ear,
Don’t make a mess of this
,
Charlie.
Get that stick out of your behind and enjoy yourself.
A
woman doesn’t care how good you are at everything
,
only that you’re willing to try.
On second thought
,
there are a few things she wants you to be great at.
But
,
sweetheart
,
you were always an overachiever in the bedroom.

“Christ Jesus,” he muttered.

“Something wrong?” Em led him into the kitchen, where ingredients were lined up on her countertop along with bowls, pans and a bunch of...tiny silver party hats? She placed the flowers in the windowsill over her sink.

“No, just remembered something I forgot to do at the office.”

She grabbed a dish towel and wiped down a perfectly clean countertop, avoiding his gaze. “Oh, maybe this isn’t a good time then.”

“Wasn’t anything important.”
Hear that
,
Viv?
Keep your opinions to yourself.
“What’s on the menu?”

“Something new for me. Cream horns.”

Wasn’t he too old to have the kind of dirty thoughts those two words brought to mind? Sexy pastries probably weren’t what she had in mind. This was just two friends hanging out for the afternoon. “Sounds tasty.”

She pulled a lump of dough from the refrigerator. “I’ve already mixed the puff pastry. Why don’t you help me roll it out?”