Deacon had moved his parents out of Royal and into a nice subdivision in central Florida. There, they could enjoy their early retirement without the meddling of the snooty residents of Royal. His father had sold the shop, and now a new shopping center was sitting where it used to be. A lot had changed in the last thirteen years.
Deacon couldn’t help but wonder how much Cecelia had changed. He tried not to cyberstalk her, but from time to time he couldn’t help looking over the Houston society pages to see what she was up to. The grainy black-and-white pictures hardly did her beauty justice, he was certain. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been a young woman, barely eighteen. Even then, Deacon had been certain that she was the most beautiful woman he would ever see in person. He would bet that time had been kind to his Cecelia.
Not that it mattered. The most recent article he’d stumbled across in the paper had included the announcement of her engagement to Chip Ashford. He remembered Chip from high school. He was a rich, entitled, first-class douche bag. Deacon was fairly certain that that hadn’t changed, but if Cecelia was willing to marry him, she certainly wasn’t the girl that he remembered. Back then, she’d hardly given Chip the time of day.
Mr. and Mrs. Morgan must be so proud of her now. She’d finally made a respectable choice in a man.
Turning off the main drag, Deacon headed down the narrow country road out of Royal that led to his latest real estate acquisition. The rustic yet luxurious lodge that was to serve as his home base in the area stood on three acres of wooded land several miles outside town. He’d bought the property sight unseen when he decided to take on The Bellamy project with Shane. He couldn’t be happier with the place. It was very much his style, although it was a far cry from the elegant European architecture and design that he’d become accustomed to.
He hadn’t really needed to buy the home. Deacon had no real intention of staying in Royal any longer than he had to. But the businessman in him had a hard time passing up a good deal, and it seemed a shame to throw money away on renting a place while they built the hotel. He had no regrets. It was his happy retreat, away from the society jungles of Royal.
When he pulled up in front of the lodge, he was surprised to find Shane Delgado’s truck parked out front. Deacon parked the Corvette in his garage, then stepped out front to meet his friend and business partner.
Deacon hadn’t had many friends back in school. Basically none. But his side business of buying and restoring cars had drawn Shane’s attention. Shane had actually bought Deacon’s very first restoration, a 1975 cherry-red Ford pickup truck with white leather seats. Deacon had been damn proud of that truck, especially when Shane had handed over the cash for it without questioning his asking price. They’d bonded then over a mutual love of cars and had continued to keep in touch over the years. When they both ended up in the real estate development business, it was natural for them to consider working together on a few projects.
“What’s wrong now?” Deacon asked as he joined Shane at the bottom of his front steps.
While the construction of The Bellamy had gone relatively smoothly, Deacon was the silent partner. Shane bothered him with details only when something had gone awry. He joked with Shane once that he was getting to the point that he dreaded the sight of his friend’s face.
“For once,” Shane said with a smile, “I’m just here to hang out and have a drink with my friend. Everything at the hotel is going splendidly. Tomorrow, Cecelia Morgan will be presenting her designs to the board, based on your recommendation. Assuming we like what Cecelia did, and I hope I’m not going too far out on a limb here, we’ll be moving forward and getting that much closer to opening the hotel.”
Deacon slapped his friend on the back of the shoulder. “I wouldn’t have brought her on board if I didn’t think she was the best designer for the job. Come on in,” he said as they started up the massive stone stairs to the front door. “Have you eaten?” he asked as they made their way into his office for a drink.
Shane nodded. “I have. Brandee is constantly feeding me. By the end of the year, I’m going to weigh three hundred pounds.”
“You’re a lucky man,” Deacon said as he poured them both a couple of fingers of whiskey over ice. Shane had recently gotten involved with Brandee Lawless, the owner of the nearby Hope Springs Ranch. She was a tiny blonde spitfire, and one hell of a cook. “I’d be happy to have Brandee feeding me every night.”
“I bet you would,” Shane said. “But you need to just stick with your cultured European women.”
Deacon chuckled at his friend’s remark. He had certainly taken advantage of the local delicacies while he was in Europe. Even though it’d been years since he and Cecelia had broken up, it had soothed his injured pride to have a line of beautiful and exotic women waiting for their chance to be with him. He would never admit to anyone, especially Shane, that not a one of them held a candle to Cecelia in his mind.
Deacon and Shane sat there together, sipping their drinks and enjoying each other’s company. They didn’t get a lot of opportunities to just hang out anymore. Deacon’s office, however, just begged for gentlemen to spend time in comfortable chairs and shoot the shit. The walls were lined with shelves containing leather-bound books that, frankly, came with the house and Deacon would never read. They did create a nice atmosphere, though, along with the oil paintings of landscapes and cattle that hung there. It was all very masculine Texas style.
“Can I ask you something?” Shane asked.
“Sure. What?”
“You do know that Cecelia’s business specializes in children’s furniture, right?”
Deacon tensed in his chair. Perhaps his office made Shane too comfortable, since he felt like prying into Deacon’s motivations for wanting Cecelia for the job. “Yeah, I know. I also know that she’s managed to turn her small company into a furniture and accessories juggernaut since she started it. She’s always had a good eye for design.”
“She does, I won’t argue that. But hiring her to decorate The Bellamy is a huge risk. She and Brandee aren’t exactly fans of each other. And what if she and her friends are actually behind the cyberattacks? That’s not the kind of publicity we’d want for our hotel. I don’t have to remind you how much we stand to lose if our gamble doesn’t pay off.”
“That’s why we just asked her to submit a proposal along with the two other design firms. We haven’t hired anybody yet. If she’s out of her depth in this, or acts suspicious in any way, we thank her for her time and send her on her way. It’s not ideal, but not the end of the world, either.”
Shane narrowed his gaze at him. He obviously suspected that Deacon had ulterior motives in wanting Cecelia involved in the project. Deacon understood. He wasn’t entirely sure that he didn’t.
“I’m not sold on either of the other firm’s designs. She’s last to present, so if she flops tomorrow, it’s going to set the project back weeks while we find yet another designer and they start from scratch. We have hotel bookings starting day one. Every delay costs us money.”
Deacon just nodded. He was well aware that he was taking a risk. But for some reason, he had to do it. Perhaps he was a glutton for punishment. Perhaps he was looking for any excuse to see her again. He wasn’t sure. The only thing he was sure of was that everything would turn out fine. “Relax, Shane. The project will finish on time and on budget with the amazing decor you’re hoping for.”
“And how do you know that?” Shane asked, sounding unconvinced.
“Because,”
