body-checked you at the last second.”
Jordan grumbled. “He’s been a pain in the rear all season.” Then keeping an eye on their mother, as if to make sure he wouldn’t be overheard, he added, “Guy needs to get laid.”
At the mention of sex, Cole locked his jaw. “Has Marisa Danieli contacted you?”
Jordan cast him an assessing look. “Why do you ask?”
“She still needs a guinea pig for her fund-raiser. As I understand it, you’re eager guinea pig material.”
Jordan’s lips quirked. “Being the test subject isn’t half bad sometimes. Anyway, she wanted you.”
“I told her no.”
“Admirable fortitude. The guys in the locker room would be impressed.”
“I’m asking you to tell her no.”
“It hasn’t come up.”
Cole relaxed his shoulders. “She hasn’t tried to reach you?”
“Nope. And quit focusing on the decoy. I’m a bad one. There’s something else you’ll find a lot more interesting.”
Camilla set a big bowl of gnocchi on the counter and announced, “I’m goin’ to check on your father and be right back.”
“Take your time, Mom.” Cole knew his mother was worried about his father’s rough road to recovery. It had been several months since the stroke, and Serg still had not made a complete recovery—if he ever would.
When their mother left, Cole turned to Jordan and wasted no time in getting to the point. “What is it?”
“Word is that the job for the new gym at the Pershing School is going to JM Construction.”
Cole’s lips thinned. She’d done worse than get Jordan on board for her fund-raiser.
As far as jobs went for a midsize construction company like Serenghetti or JM, the new gym at the Pershing School was small-fry. However, JM would get the attendant publicity and goodwill.
Damn it. They’d been outbid twice in the past few months by JM Construction. Like Serenghetti, JM operated in the New England region, though both sometimes took jobs farther afield. Serenghetti’s main offices were in Welsdale—at Serg’s insistence—but they kept a business suite in Boston for convenience, as well as a small satellite staff in Portland, Maine.
“You know this how?” Cole demanded of his brother.
“Guys talking down at the Puck & Shoot. If you hung out there, you’d know, too. You should try it.”
“A lot happens at the Puck & Shoot.” Cole recalled that Marisa had found out how to run him to ground from a tip at the bar.
“The drinks aren’t bad, and the female clientele is even better.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t spotted Marisa there.”
Jordan snagged a cold gnocchi from the bowl and popped it into his mouth. “She doesn’t look like the type to be a sports bar regular.”
“A lot about her may surprise you.”
His brother swallowed and grinned. “I’m sure.”
“Jordan.”
“Anyway, I was killing time. Someone brought up my recent ad campaign, so I mentioned an opportunity to do a little local promo for the Pershing School. I asked if anyone was interested.”
“Putting in a good word for Marisa?” Cole asked sardonically.
There was laughter in Jordan’s eyes. “Well, I knew you didn’t want to volunteer. And you’d have my head on a platter if I did the fund-raiser.”
“Good call.”
“But I felt bad for her, to be honest. She was even willing to tangle with you in order to find a celebrity.”
“She knows what she’s doing.”
“She seems like a good sort these days. Or at least her cause is a good one.”
“Right.” Whose side was his brother on?
“Anyway, you remember Jenkins? He graduated a couple of years after you did and played in the minors for a while?”
“Yeah?”
“He said the rumor was that JM Construction had the inside track on building the gym. So he thought it was curious I was mentioning the school fund-raiser to the Razors. He indicated it was mighty magnanimous of me to try to find a recruit for JM’s cause.”
“Oh yeah, it was.” Cole resisted a snort. “Still feeling sorry for Marisa?”
The woman had more up her sleeve than a cardsharp.
Jordan shrugged. “She may know nothing about who’s getting the construction contract.”
“We’ll see. Either way, I’m about to find out.”
* * *
Life was full of firsts—some of them more welcome than others. Cole had been her earliest lover, and now he was giving her another first. Marisa stepped inside Serenghetti Construction’s offices, which she’d never done before.
The company occupied the uppermost floors of a redbrick building that had once been a factory, square in the middle of Welsdale’s downtown. The website stated that Serg Serenghetti had renovated the building twenty years ago and turned it into a modern office complex. For years she’d felt as if she would never be welcome inside, but now she’d gotten a personal invite from Cole Serenghetti himself. It showed how life could turn on a dime.
Of course the actual call had come from Cole’s assistant. But Marisa had taken it as a sign that Cole might be softening his stance. She was willing to hold on to any thread of hope, no matter how thin. Because as much as she’d bluffed, she had no Plan B. She hadn’t tried to contact Jordan Serenghetti because it would be preferable for Pershing to have someone who’d graduated from the school as a headliner. Besides, she was sure Cole would block any attempt to recruit his brother.
In the lobby, Marisa tried not to be intimidated by the sleek glass-and-chrome design—a testament to money and power. And when she reached the top floor, she took a deep breath as she entered Serenghetti’s spacious and airy offices. The decor was muted beiges and grays—cool and professional. The receptionist announced her, took her coat and then directed her down the hall to a corner office.
Her heart beat in a staccato rhythm as she reached an open doorway. And then her gaze connected with Cole’s. He was standing beside an imposing L-shaped desk.
The air hummed between them, and Marisa steadied herself as she walked forward into his office. She’d dressed professionally in a beige pantsuit, but she was suddenly very aware of her femininity. That was because Cole exuded power in a navy suit and patterned tie. This was a different incarnation than his
