Now here she was, forcing herself not to wipe her sweaty palms on the gray silk blend of her designer skirt. Instead, she propped her elbows on the small two-top, conjured her most winning smile, and reminded herself to breathe.
"I'm not sure how much Amanda told you," Jenna said, "but we're basically doing a facelift on The Fix. We're stepping up an already awesome menu, and we're getting the word out to draw in new customers."
Brooke nodded, realizing that Jenna was only telling her part of the story. The way Amanda had explained it, The Fix was trying to do more than draw in new customers. In truth, the bar was pushing up against a serious financial crisis. Management was doing everything it could to keep the bar thriving, and that included sponsoring a Man of the Month calendar contest.
The bar would hold live contests every couple of weeks, and by autumn, they'd have their twelve hot men to put on a calendar to sell to the public. If it worked as intended, the contest would draw in crowds and up the bar's revenue.
But if they couldn't turn the place around and get it fully in the black by the end of the year, then the bar would close its doors, and Austin would lose a beloved venue. A place with great drinks, live music, and lots of local color.
More than that, the owners would lose their dream.
That was a fear that Brooke understood only too well. And the more she and Jenna discussed the details, the more Brooke thought that she and The Fix could help each other--and that Jenna wouldn't run screaming when Brooke described the wheels she'd already set in motion. Wheels that involved The Fix being the centerpiece of a real-estate based reality television show. A show that Brooke had already pitched despite the teensy-weensy detail of not yet having permission from anyone at The Fix itself.
Still, Brooke was prepared to prostrate herself on the ground and beg if that's what it took to convince Jenna. With luck, that wouldn't be necessary. Once it was all laid out for her, surely Jenna would see how perfect the show would be. Both for The Fix and for Brooke.
The show had pretty much dropped into Brooke's lap. And as far as she was concerned, it was a magical amulet that held the power to completely change her life. Or, more accurately, to justify her choices. To finally prove to her attorney father and surgeon mother that she knew her own mind and could run her own life.
She'd dropped out of medical school after her first year because she'd finally had enough. She was sick and tired of giving in to other people's demands, and she'd made up her mind to finally take control of her own life, thank you very much.
And Brooke's dream had always been to fix property, not people. Growing up, she'd gravitated more toward her grandfather and uncle's property development business than to either of her parents' careers. A reality that they'd written off as if she were a child playing with toys.
When she'd excelled in the sciences at college, they'd turned a deaf ear to her protests. Her father had announced that she would pursue medicine, that he was footing the bill, and that all other options were off the table. Theirs was a high-profile Austin family, after all. Appearances must be kept up.
It hadn't been pretty when she'd thrown it all back in their faces. Her father's words, not hers. But she couldn't care less about Austin society. And she definitely couldn't be a doctor when the interest wasn't there. It wouldn't be fair to her. And it certainly wouldn't be fair to whatever patient happened to wander into her office.
Now, four years after walking away from Southwestern Medical School, she'd finally turned a profit at The Business Plan, her relatively new commercial renovation company that specialized in small businesses that were open to the public. Bars, restaurants, B&Bs, and the like. It was a hell of a lot of work, but she was in the black, if barely, and her current focus was on getting more clients.
The Fix, of course, was a big part of that plan, and Brooke resisted the urge to cross her fingers as she explained it all to Jenna.
"Normally, I'm a little pricey," Brooke admitted after Jenna explained the bar's limited budget. "But I have a proposal for you. If you agree, it could work out great for both of us."
Jenna's brows rose, and she leaned back, her green eyes focused intently on Brooke. "Amanda mentioned you were looking for a high profile project."
"I was," Brooke said. "I am. And to tell you the truth, The Fix is exactly what I'm looking for."
It was more than that, Brooke thought. It was serendipity. For months, Brooke had been working her ass off, trying to be front and center in the community so that she was in the line of sight of people who might hire her.
Then she'd learned that The Design and Destination Channel was accepting proposals for an Austin-based real estate show that they wanted to get on the air quickly in order to fill a schedule gap. It needed to have a minimum of six episodes, and the deadline to submit was coming up fast.
Once the proposal was in, she'd been prepared to wait for weeks, but she'd heard back after twenty-four hours. And after an extensive phone interview, she'd received an invitation to meet two of the network's executives in a suite at The Driskill Hotel, a historic venue on Sixth Street, just a few blocks down from The Fix.
It had been a head-spinning, dream-making, life-changing kind of meeting. Because if she could land an actual television show, then she'd finally, truly be on the map. She'd garner local press, interviews, the works.
More than that, the show would air nationwide, and especially since the name of the show--The Business Plan--mirrored the name of her business, the exposure would be huge. And surely that would give her the clout and the contacts to tackle even more challenging projects.
And maybe--maybe--her father would stop looking at her like she was a failure.
That meeting had ended only five short hours ago with the execs telling Brooke that her proposal was the front-runner, and that the network wanted to green light the show. They just needed to ensure that two small conditions were met.
The problem, of course, was that the conditions weren't small at all.
"I'm so screwed," Brooke had wailed when she met Amanda at RA Sushi Bar, her favorite downtown venue for sushi and cocktails.
"In what universe?" Amanda countered. "You just said they loved your pitch."
"I told them I'd locked in The Fix. That was a complete and total lie."
Brooke had figured that a stage full of hot guys would catch the network's eye, and so she'd included The Fix and a description of the calendar contest in the proposal as an example of the kind of thing the show might use.
The network had gone apeshit over the idea, so apparently her instincts had been dead-on. But she hadn't expected things to move quite so fast. And now the network had included The Fix as a condition of the show getting made.
"I don't even meet with Jenna to talk about working with The Fix until later tonight," she told Amanda. "What if she doesn't want to work with me at all? Or if she thinks having a film crew on the property for months would be the equivalent of the seventh circle of hell?"
Amanda waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, please. Your work is amazing. Of course she'll want to work with you. And as for the show, I know Jenna, and she's no dummy. You tell her that the network and sponsors will cover the materials and your fee, and she'll be all in. Besides, you said the network wants to film the Man of the Month contest, right?"
"They want it in the background, for sure. They said it'll make for great television and be something no one's done before."
"And the show will premiere late summer or early fall?"
Brooke nodded.
"So, there you go. That kind of exposure should bring in new customers. Jenna's in marketing. She gets it. Trust me, it's all good."
"Maybe," Brooke said. "But that still leaves their second condition."
"Second condition?"
"Have you heard of Spencer Dean?"
"Sure. He used to flip houses on television. He's also a client."
"Really?" Brooke leaned back, surprised. "He's buying a place in Austin?"
"More than a place," Amanda said. "I've shown him the Drysdale Mansion several times now. I think he's close to making an offer. I hope so. Talk about a delicious commission."
"The Drysdale Mansion?" Brooke's throat had tightened and her pulse had skittered at the mention of the house. And of the only man she'd ever loved. The man with whom she'd shared so many forbidden memories inside those walls.
The man who now despised her.
"What is it?" Amanda asked, peering at Brooke in a way that suggested she saw too much.
Brooke poked at a spicy tuna roll with a chopstick, avoiding Amanda's eyes. "I just always liked that house."
"Hmm." Amanda didn't sound convinced, but also didn't press the point. "At any rate, what does Spencer Dean have to do with your meeting?"
"They want him on the show."
"Really?" Amanda frowned. "He told me he's not in television anymore. Why would he bullshit me?"
"He wasn't," Brooke assured her. "He left his series about a year ago."
For four of the last five years, Spencer had starred in Spencer's Place, a house-flipping program that had been as much about Spencer's personality as about the renovations. Brooke had watched only one episode. It hurt too much to see Spencer on screen. Those dark eyes that she'd once believed knew her so well. Those strong, calloused hands that had stroked her skin. His mustache and beard that had tickled her ear as he'd whispered sweet, sexy, decadent things.
He'd held her close and they'd made so many plans, so many promises. She'd loved him fiercely, and she'd believed that he felt the same. A wild, protective love that shone so bright it could cut through any darkness and heal any pain.
And then everything had shattered.
Richie. Her father. And, of course, Brian.
Oh, God, Brian. She fought a shudder of revulsion and wished that she'd never allowed that vile name into her head.
He was the other reason Brooke hadn't watched Spencer's show. It brought back too many memories of the years when the three of them had been friends. Yes, it hurt to see Spence. But the memories of Brian made her curl up into a useless ball of pain and self-loathing.
"Okay, I get it," Amanda said as she added some wasabi to her soy sauce. "Spencer's show was super popular, and they think he'll bring in the sponsors." Amanda pointed a chopstick at Brooke. "But if he's retired from television, what makes them think he'll do it?"
"The producers told me he still owes them a show. Under his last contract, I mean. So they want him to be on The Business Plan with me. They say it's the perfect vehicle."
"Well, then what's the problem? I mean, if he has to do a show to satisfy his contract, why not do this one? And having him can only help your show, right? I'm not seeing the issue."
Brooke had leaned back in her chair, then stared her friend down. "Because if he refuses, then there is no show. They were very clear. No Spencer Dean, no The Business Plan. I'm blonde and perky and camera-friendly--"
"They did not say that!"
"Pretty much. But they also said I'm no Spencer Dean. I'm not tried and true. I'm not popular. And I'm not getting the show without him."
"I still don't see why you're worried. He owes them a show anyway. Why wouldn't he do the season with you?"
"I can think of a lot of reasons," Brooke admitted. "But the biggest is probably that we used to be engaged."
Chapter Three
Don't worry about the Spencer part yet. Just lock in The Fix.
Amanda's parting words played like a mantra through Brooke's head all through her meeting with Jenna. And apparently the mantra worked, because before she knew it, Jenna held out her hand. "The Fix is totally in."
"That's wonderful," Brooke said, hoping her palms weren't sweating with nerves. "You won't regret it."
"I know I won't, and I'm so excited to be working with you. And the show is fabulous. Absolutely perfect for what we're trying to accomplish, and nothing I could have arranged myself. You're pretty much my favorite person right now."
Brooke laughed. "Trust me. The feeling is mutual." And, hopefully, Jenna wouldn't change her mind about Brooke if the whole thing fell through. Which it might. Because Spencer was still a great big question mark. Not that Jenna knew that, because Brooke had taken the coward's way out and told Jenna that the show was exactly the kind of project Spencer Dean was looking for.
It was a flat-out lie, but Brooke needed this opportunity too much to feel any guilt.
"You'll get the green light from the network as soon as Spencer Dean confirms that he's on board?" Jenna asked, as if she'd been reading Brooke's mind. "And you're pretty confident he's in?"
"Are you kidding?" Brooke waved her hand, copying Amanda's dismissive gesture. "I'm already starting prep."
"Great." Jenna pushed back from the table. "Drinks and appetizers are on the house tonight. I hope you stay for a while and enjoy yourself."
"Thanks. I will. Oh, there's Amanda."
Both women waved, then headed over to their mutual friend.
"You two look positively perky. Guess I can add match-making to my list of amazing skills."
"You can," Jenna said. "And because you're so awesome, I'll tell you what I told Brooke--drinks and appetizers on the house tonight."
"And that's why I love you," Amanda said. "Come on, Brooke. Let me introduce you to a Jalapeno Margarita. Trust me, these things are fucking amazing. Are you off?" she added to Jenna. "Want to join?"
"With only about a week before we launch the calendar contest? I'm pretty much on twenty-four seven. Thanks, though. You guys have fun."
As Jenna headed toward the back of the room, Amanda led Brooke to two seats that had opened up at the crowded oak bar.
"Well?" Amanda demanded as soon as they were settled on the tall bar stools. "Didn't I tell you it would be great?"
"Yes, you're amazing and awesome, and I bow to your brilliance."
Amanda's smile broadened. "And that's why I keep you around."
"Speaking of people to keep around, who's that?" Brooke nodded toward the absolutely gorgeous guy now talking with Jenna.
Amanda turned dutifully toward the broad shouldered hunk of awesomeness with the shaved head and the sleeve of tats revealed by his The Fix on Sixth T-shirt. "Oh, that's Reece. He's the bar's manager. He's also Jenna's boyfriend."
The latter could have gone unsaid. It was obvious in the way he gently caressed her lower back as she spoke to him. And just as obvious in the way she looked at him, as if any minute he wasn't touching her was one minute too long.
Brooke swallowed a lump in her throat as she glanced away. Once upon a time, she'd felt that way. As if any moment without Spencer was a moment that didn't need to exist. As if she didn't need to have any secrets from him, because their love was perfect and pure, and no matter what demons stepped into their path, they'd conquer them together.
Yeah, she'd been an idiot. A young, foolish, trusting idiot.
Beside her, Amanda lifted her hand and signaled to a tall, lanky bartender with an action hero build and clean-cut dark hair. "Hey, Eric. Can I get two Jalapeno Margaritas?"
"No Cosmo?" Eric asked.
"Cam made a JM for me last night, and it was like an orgasm in my mouth." She smiled at Brooke, who wasn't sure if she should laugh or beg Eric to just give her a beer. "Seriously. Once you've had a spicy, hot Jalapeno, you're not going back."
"Oh, my God, Amanda. Remind me why we're friends?"
Amanda winked one dark brown eye. "Because all the rest of your friends are boring and tame."
"Fair enough," Brooke said. "Jalapeno me."
"You got it," Eric said. "Anything to eat?"
"Hell, yeah," Amanda said. "Put in an order of Lasagna Rolls for us. Freaking amazing," she added as an aside to Brooke. "Trust me."
"Got it," Eric said, then moved down the bar.
"He's a total hottie," Amanda whispered. "And he's single. Want me to hook you up?"
"Are you kidding? He's what? Twenty-one." An incredibly hot twe
nty-one, but still.
"He's twenty-five, actually," Amanda said, a little haughtily. "And a very mature twenty-five."
"Oh, really? And do you have personal knowledge of his ... maturity?"
Amanda made a face. "Don't be crass," she said, as Brooke burst out laughing. Amanda talked a good game, but Brooke seriously doubted she saw as much action as her boasting suggested.
"At any rate," Amanda continued, "twenty-five is totally in your range."
"Um, hello? I'm almost thirty."
Amanda flashed her please, girlfriend look. "You're twenty-eight."
"Only five months from twenty-nine. And that makes me almost thirty."
"That makes you bad at math."
"Fine. Whatever. But I'm not sleeping with Eric."
"Sorry, what?" the man in question asked as he slid their drinks in front of them.
"Just repeating your name," Brooke said, flashing what she hoped was an innocent smile. "Trying to get everyone's names down since I'll be spending a lot of time here soon."
"Yeah? I saw you with Jenna. You gonna be doing work on the calendar contest?"
"Looks that way."
Eric's eyes caught hers, then held. "Glad to hear it," he said, then turned away to greet another customer.
"My, my, my," Amanda hummed.
"Drop it," Brooke ordered, although she couldn't deny the little tingle of pleasure that came from being noticed by a hot guy. For the most part, she kept herself closed off. She dated, but she didn't do relationships. And sex was always on her terms. Always.
The truth was, she'd lost the ability to trust, to let go. Lost it? No, that was bullshit. Trust had been ripped away from her, and though she desperately wanted to get it back, the few times she'd let a guy test her boundaries had been completely disastrous.
Fucking Brian. One betrayal. And her whole world had unraveled. And all she'd wanted to do when the world had spun out from under her was run to Spencer. But he was long gone, an artifact of a life that she'd given up to save him. Except he didn't know any of that. And now he hated her. And she was all alone with her angst and her fear doing her damnedest to build a replacement life. And she was close--so damn close.
But now here came Spencer waltzing back into the thick of it, and Brooke knew damn well how much that was going to hurt.