The Billionaire's Longshot: Betting on You Series: Book Three (2 page)

When it came to college, though, they needed to figure that out for themselves. Donna’s grades earned her a full scholarship, and she eventually earned her PhD in engineering. Jill wasn’t so lucky. She was going to need student loans all the way, so she decided to work until she could save enough for school. That day had yet to come.

The first few years out of high school were filled with one part-time job after another, and she tried everything: retail, manufacturing, and finally waitressing. She was twenty, and everything appeared to be going great; tips were good, and she loved working with the public. What she hadn’t planned for was the unexpected layoff due to slow business. That was the problem with working in a family restaurant. If you’re not family, then you’re the one to go.

Jill had been crying outside the restaurant when Elaine Manning came by to pick up her usual lunch order. Jill explained what occurred, and Elaine comforted her with the kindness one would expect from a mother, though Elaine was only eight years older. “I can offer you a temporary position at Another Chance doing some filing and phone work until you can find another job.” Elaine’s offer changed her life.

Now six years later, both she and Elaine were in business together with Lizette.
Or trying to start
E.L.J. Events as a business
. If the Pet Therapy for Soldiers fundraiser didn’t go off perfectly, her one and only chance to succeed might simply fly out the window.

The phone vibrated in her still tightly clenched hand.
Please be him. Yes.
Finally.
Clearing her throat she answered, “This is Jill,” hoping her earlier panic and frustration were not evident in her tone.

“Hello, Jill. How have you been?”

Would be better if you’d returned my calls before now.
“I’m fine, thank you. And who am I speaking to?” She wasn’t about to admit that after several months she still had his husky voice memorized right along with his muscular build and piercing blue eyes.
Yum.
With her thoughts betraying her, it probably was better they do this over the phone.

She heard him chuckle softly. “Was there something more you needed from me?”

He knew damn well there was, as each of her voicemails had become more and more detailed. “We need to finalize things. I have several ideas I need to review with you. When are you available to meet?”
See? I can sound as confident and cocky as you.
Too bad it was an act on her part.

“Tomorrow night,” Ross stated.

That isn’t convenient for me at all, thanks for asking.
Jill knew she would cancel her plans; there was no way she was missing meeting with Whitman just to be the caller for bingo at the senior center. They would understand. “Fine. Where should I meet you?”

“I’ll stop by your apartment around six, and we can review the plans there.”

That’s strange. I don’t remember giving him my address before
. Then Jill recalled that Elaine had lived here before her an very well may have invited him over with Trent.
That’s logical
. Either way she could almost hear her sister’s voice now:
That is no place to hold a business meeting
. Suggesting another location may mean delaying.
What harm could come from one quick meeting
? Ross was a gentleman, at least he had been the few times they had met.
Always in a group.
Her options limited, she rattled off the address and said goodbye.

Sitting on her couch, she looked around the apartment. There were take-out containers, paper plates, and coffee cups scattered on the coffee table as well as in the kitchen.
What a mess!
Her gym bag and sneakers from earlier were on the floor near the door, and that was only the stuff that jumped out at her.
It’s the lived-in look
. But the truth was, she hated housework.
Who doesn’t?
The nice part about living on her own was no one nagging at her to pick up after herself. The only problem was things tended to get out of control quickly.
This is one of the few times I miss living with Donna.

Since being in New York, Jill kept her living space much tidier than she had in the past.
Not clean, but better.
The positive side to a smaller apartment was it was easier to clean, and with all the take-out readily available, she never had to dirty a dish. Dragging herself from the couch, she began collecting the trash. That was a start, but she could foresee what the remainder of her day would be spent doing.
Cleaning! Why do I keep finding loose buttons all over the place?
Since this was Elaine’s former apartment maybe they belong to Trent.
Don’t overthink it.
If those two had been getting their freak on in the living room she didn’t want to know.
Maybe I should consider a new couch?

Ross knew Jill
was upset when he checked his messages before boarding the plane. Even on this call her normally happy, excitable self was replaced with cold dry tones. Leaning back against the leather couch on his private jet, he envisioned the pout on those sweet lips that begged to be kissed.
Yes, she’s mad. Who could blame her?
Jill left him four messages, each becoming more panicked than the last.

He probably should have given her a heads-up that he’d be unreachable for a few days, but he knew he could take care of anything that came up when he returned. This event was important, and he wasn’t about to let anything slip through the cracks. Tomorrow night they would meet, settle the few remaining details which seemed to be stressing her out, and see where things went from there.

Drew had been correct, he had needed a vacation. Since graduating from college he’d worked seven days a week,
every week.
The hard work had paid off, but at a price. It was time to reevaluate and refocus. The quiet, peaceful week on the ocean was over. It was time to pay the piper and get back to work. Downing the last of his cold beer, he knew he couldn’t postpone it any longer. He reached for his laptop for the first time in a week.

As expected, his email had blown up while he was away. The six-hour flight from California to New York was going to be spent digging out. The last thing he needed right now was to be co-hosting a charity event.
Bad timing. Why did I agree to get involved
?

The answer was clear. Jill had batted her sexy light brown eyes, and he hadn’t listened to what she’d asked; he’d only had one thing in mind and still did.
Tasting what those sweet lips have to offer.
Of course, each time they met they weren’t alone, and she must have asked for his phone number while they danced at the engagement party. Jill must have struck up a conversation about fundraiser sponsorship, and without paying much attention to what he was saying, he found himself committed.

She may be young, but she is driven.
That was more than he could say for most people. Never had he met anyone so determined. It was not the impression he had of her when he first met her several months ago at Jon and Lizette’s engagement party, though. Her hair had been the colors of the rainbow, and her makeup had matched. Even now he laughed thinking how she’d grabbed his hand only moments after meeting him and dragged him onto the dance floor.
I don’t dance.

They had nothing in common, yet there had been something about her. Her appearance had changed, and he found himself dreaming of running his hands through her now blonde hair while making love to her on the deck of his sailboat. Once out to sea, he regretted not inviting her to go with him. He’d never taken her out to dinner, so he thought the offer to run away with him for a week was premature.
Damn, how did she get under my skin?
He needed to be alone with her, and tomorrow night they finally were going to have that opportunity. Problem was, she expected to talk business, and that was not going to set the mood for what he had planned.

The last thing Ross wanted was to be more involved in the family business than he needed to be. It had taken him years to get his mother to understand he wasn’t ever going to be hands-on with the business. Now he was not only hosting the fundraiser, it was going to be held on his parents’ estate in Napa Valley.

His mother had said, “Roosevelt, this will be perfect; all our friends will come in support. It will be like old times.”

His mother refused to call him Ross, knowing each time she called him Roosevelt, it was like nails on a chalkboard to him.
Old times.
That was what worried him. Ross loved his parents, however, he was like neither of them. His father was a soft-spoken man who loved the art of producing some of the best wines in the world—as had his father and grandfather before him—and spending hours on end walking the vineyard. His mother, on the other hand, enjoyed drinking the wine, sometimes excessively, and those times had determined the difficult moments growing up. Nonetheless, she’d tried everything from bribery, to threatening him, to make him learn the craft. Instead of going out to play with his friends, she’d sent him out to work by his father’s side, never allowing him to join a sports team. She’d reminded him daily what his future was going to be.
Or so she thought.
She’d had strong opinions on everything and had voiced them without concern for how others may have interpreted them. Nothing had changed.

Even going to a school dance had been a horrid experience. His mother had refused to take pictures since he’d chosen to attend with someone “without class,” which meant
money
to her. Some called her a high-class snob.
They were right.
Even his parents’ marriage appeared to be one of convenience, lacking any true form of affection. He visited on special occasions, but couldn’t get out fast enough.

He was grateful when college took him three thousand miles away. The East Coast was so different, and that was exactly what he’d needed. While earning his master’s degree in business, he pursued his passion: building luxury sailboats. It was a blow to his mother’s pride when he didn’t return home after graduation but informed her he was starting his own business.

“Don’t expect any financial support from us.” If she’d thought her words were going to discourage him from moving forward with his plans, she was mistaken. It only drove him harder toward his vision. Even when his sailboats became known for quality, winning awards worldwide, his mother wouldn’t recognize it as anything more than a hobby.
Will I ever be good enough in her eyes?
He knew the answer.
Not unless I do things her way.
That wasn’t about to happen.

Why can’t you ask me to donate a boat?
Instead Jill wanted the one thing he couldn’t escape no matter how successful he became: Whitman’s Wine.

‡

“Y
ou don’t give
yourself enough credit, Jill. If for one minute I thought you couldn’t handle this I would tell you so,” Elaine said.

Lizette chimed in, “It won’t always be this way. Between making the final arrangements for my wedding and trying to train my replacement at Another Chance back in Rhode Island, there really isn’t much I can offer right now. I promise I’ll take the lead at the next event.”

Lizette was getting married in five months, and Elaine was still suffering from morning sickness
. What kind of friend would push back at a time like this? One that bit off more than she could chew.

“We didn’t leave you to totally fend for yourself. Ross said he would support this event any way you needed. He’s still handling the wine auction, isn’t he?” Elaine asked.

Oh, yes, what a great help he’s been.
“Yes, we are meeting tonight to review some of the plans.” Now was not the time to bring up his lack of response to her calls.

“Sounds like you have this all under control. Have you given any thought to what you are going to include besides the wine?” Lizette asked.

Everything was lined up. There was one thing she didn’t have—the approval from Ross. Since the event was taking place on his family’s property, she needed to make sure the guests and activities were going to be acceptable.

“We’re on track. I promise I will get the final answer from Ross within a few days.”
Even if I have to tie him down to get it.

Lizette and Elaine exchanged glances then laughed. “Now that is the Jill we know and love. You’ve got this.”

Wish I was so confident.
This event was a make-it or break-it opportunity, and the odds weren’t in her favor. Jill had to make this work.
Somehow.
“Since this breakfast was supposed to be girl talk, what’s the next topic, wedding or baby?”

“Let’s talk wedding.” Elaine looked down and gently patted her slightly rounded belly saying, “If you haven’t noticed, I think my maid-of-honor gown might need some alterations.”

“You’ll be almost eight months by then. I’m not sure how much altering they can do.” Jill laughed. She hadn’t meant to hurt her, but by the expression on Elaine’s face, she had. Reaching across the table she grabbed Elaine’s free hand and said sincerely, “I’m sure you are going to look beautiful. You always do.”

“What I’ll look like is not what worries me, Jill. I promised to help Lizette with the wedding, but I’m not so sure what help I will be that far along,” Elaine said sincerely.