The Billionaire’s Surrogate Baby - Lauren Wood Page 0,2

until I got in the hall and found myself face to face with an elderly woman who lived next door that I realized I had never checked my appearance in the mirror. Judging by the stunned, judgmental look on her face, it was safe to assume that my kinky black spirals were frizzed out in every direction and that my eyeliner was smudged all around my eyes. Maybe that was part of what turned Joey so cold, though no guy from my past had ever complained about my morning-after look.

I blushed and smiled, offering a polite wave before jetting off to the elevator. I only felt a little better by the time the fresh afternoon air hit me outside. I took my time walking home, kicking pebbles along the sidewalk as I went.

In between Joey’s place and mine, I stopped outside the old Italian restaurant that had shut down in recent months, unable to keep up with the rapidly changing economy and clientele since the infamous Cherry Falls population boom. I was sad for the owners. Nick, Joey, and the other guys worked hard to make the changes in our town as kind to natives as it could be, but not everything was immune to gentrification.

I looked longingly at the boarded-up windows and noticed a sign saying it was for lease posted out front. Cooking had always been a passion of mine, and I dreamed of owning my own restaurant. I noticed the Ransom Realty logo in the corner of the lease sign. It was one of Nick and Joey’s properties now. Too bad, I was broke. I sighed to myself. After the way Joey had just treated me, I imagined I could have leveraged my way into a good deal on the place if I only had the means.

Oh well. I tried to shrug off my dream of ever owning that place right along with the ridiculous notion that anything could have come out of my night with Joey. Not even a simple, “Last night was fun. Hope you have a great day.”

I started back down the sidewalk to my place. Luckily, I knew the best recipe for a banging hangover cure breakfast—one that I would have cooked for him if given a chance. His loss. That just meant more for me once I got home and started cooking.

1

Joey

I had just finished my last email for the day when my secretary chimed in over the intercom. “Mr. Williams, I have Vincent Milano for you on line one.”

“Thanks, Sheila,” I quickly shot back before picking up the phone and holding down the button to take the call. “Joey here.”

“Joey boy. How’s it hanging?” Vincent’s greeting came through the receiver in a thick Italian Bronx accent that made me long for my familiar neighborhood back home.

“Hey, Vin. I take it you’ve had time to think over the property I showed you the other day?”

“You’re straight down to business. I like that. No bullshitting. My kind of guy. As a matter of fact, I have, and I’m very interested.”

I winced a little at his reply. I was hoping he would decide he wasn’t interested so that I could avoid having to tell him I couldn’t approve a leasing contract for him. I had a feeling the kind of business he was hoping to get going in the space was not the kind of thing I wanted to promote in Cherry Falls. But I also hated to judge people, having been misjudged most of my life.

“Listen, Vin. Before we proceed any further, can you send me a business plan? Or give me a run down of what you’re envisioning for the space?”

“Certainly. I can do that right now, as a matter of fact. It’s simple,” he replied. “Titty bar.”

“Come again?” I asked, just to be sure. Though his response was exactly what I had expected.

“You know. Girls. Dancing. Topless. I believe you suits call ‘em strip clubs.”

I leaned back in my chair, glancing up to the ceiling in irritation and disappointment. I hated to crush people’s dreams, but I was not about to let Vincent turn that upscale restaurant space into some seedy strip joint that would probably have all sorts of other underground illegal schemes going on left and right. Not only was it too risky as a landlord, but it wasn’t the right image we wanted to portray with Ransom Realty. Or for the small-town innocence that we were trying to maintain through the growth of Cherry Falls.

“You there, Joe? Did