She resumed speaking. “It seems we have a speaker who has arrived ahead of schedule, so I suggest we commence with that part of our program and leave the reading of the minutes and the business portion until later.”
A murmur of assent rippled through the crowd. The redhead beside Tess raised her hand. “I move we save the minutes and business part of our meeting until after our speaker.”
April smiled sweetly at the woman. “Thank you, Jen. Always nice to have you keeping us on track.” She addressed the group. “Are there any seconds?”
Someone seconded the motion, then it passed with a unanimous vote. April cleared her throat. “So, with no further ado, here’s Dr. Mason Davies to discuss his Project Mentor.”
She walked stiffly to her seat as Dr. Davies strode up the aisle. He moved with a forceful grace, even though tension radiated from the tight set of his jaw and shoulders. He paused when he passed April’s table. “Thank you.”
April stared at him evenly, but made no comment as he continued to the podium. He adjusted the microphone, then let his gaze scan the room. “I’d like to thank you all for having me here today. I appreciate your time and consideration—especially your consideration. I won’t beat around the bush. I’ve come here to ask for your help.”
The low timbre of his voice vibrated through Tess, filling her with surprising swirls of awareness. His gaze again scanned the crowd, before coming to rest on her. Heat rose in her face as, spellbound, she couldn’t look away.
Who was this man?
“For those of you who aren’t familiar with Project Mentor, it’s a program of volunteers working to help atrisk teens and children who have been exposed to drug abuse and/or HIV in their families. It’s a nonprofit organization sponsoring workshops and other events designed not only to help relieve some of the immediate burdens these kids face, but also to help them plan for their futures.
“These kids are the unfortunate victims who fall between the cracks at school and in our communities. They struggle with issues no child should have to deal with, yet they live it. Some of these kids don’t know what it’s like to eat three square meals a day, have proper medical and dental care, or attend school on a regular basis. Many of them have given up by the time they reach us.”
He paused. His passion for this project reached out to Tess and empathy swelled through her—for the children, for this man who cared enough that he faced this roomful of less-than-welcoming women. He and April certainly had some issues to work out. The pressure between the two of them was nearly a physical thing.
“What exactly is it that you’re asking of us, Dr. Davies?” The question came from one of the women at April’s table.
“That’s an excellent question. Our hope is that you’ll lend us a hand with some fund-raising.”
“What kind of fund-raising?” another of April’s group asked.
“That would ultimately be for you to decide, but at Project Mentor we had talked about a big gala or ball where the proceeds would go toward creating a youth center. We would, of course, welcome all youths, but our focus is on the ones we find through the free clinic we established two years ago in downtown Miami.
“Even though that clinic has experienced great success, we have seen more and more patients strung out on drugs and with HIV. When children are involved, our choice in the past has been to help the parents as best we could, then send them back to deal with their families as best they could. Unfortunately, they often don’t deal well with the added pressure of raising children, especially teens.
“Though we have a mentoring program in place for these kids, we’re finding it isn’t enough. There’s a real need to provide a feeling of community for them, a sense that they belong somewhere. If we don’t supply that connection, they find it in gangs or other unfavorable settings. A youth center would help prevent that.”
Tess glanced around expectantly, subduing the urge to jump to her feet and volunteer the group. She hadn’t yet officially joined their ranks. So it wasn’t her place to say anything. Surely, these women would put aside their differences for this higher purpose.
April straightened in her seat, though she remained closed off, her arms folded across her chest. “Why can’t your group arrange this ball on its own?”
“You ladies are known for your fund-raising abilities. We could make an effort, but all of us have careers in addition to our volunteering with the project. We simply don’t have the resources or connections you do. The gala is guaranteed success if the Dade County Women’s Club is associated with it.”
Silence reigned over the room. April uncrossed her arms and sat forward. “I don’t see how we would have the time to help you. We have several other projects we’re currently tied up with and our own gala event not far around the corner.”
Disbelief flashed through Dr. Davies’s eyes. “But that’s nearly nine months away. Surely you’d have time to handle this event.”
April rose, her eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so. There’s a lot that goes into planning any event as you so clearly point out, but I can’t speak for the entire group.” She gestured to the tables around her. “What do you think? Can we help Dr. Davies with his project?”
Tess stiffened at the note of warning in her voice. She held her breath as not a soul offered an opinion. How could these women just sit there? Did April swing so much clout that she could cow everyone into not helping?
Fisting her hands in her lap, Tess fought the urge to offer her services. She didn’t even know these women. Why would they listen to her? Acting against April would most likely cost Tess any chance at making friends. And so much for service work with the group.
She glanced up to find his gaze on her and froze.
His dark eyes beseeched her. What could she do? Surely one of the other women would say something.
“I see.” The defeat in his voice cut deep. “Then I won’t be taking any more of your time.”
Tess took another deep breath as he exited, but it did little to ease the knot of regret forming in her stomach. She stared at the empty doorway. The man had left. There wasn’t anything she could do about it now. Besides, chances were another group would come to his aid. If he was a doctor, he must have all kinds of connections.
The women’s club seemed to have other charities it was involved in. Surely she’d find another project she’d feel good about helping with. And there was the added bonus of making women friends. She’d come here to get away from men. She sipped her water and tried to relax. With the good doctor gone, now maybe she could get on with building some kind of relationship with her own kind.
2
SHE WASN’T THEIR KIND. Everything about the redhead at the women’s club told Mason Davies that she was cut from a different cloth. He closed his eyes against the image of the memorable woman who’d captured his attention. Though she’d sat in their midst, she was as different from those women as he was.
He’d seen the emotion shining in her blue eyes when he talked about the project. She’d understood the need—the fact that this event was worthwhile. Somehow, he had felt her dismay at the lack of support.
Yet, she’d sat silently as
