Finding Perfect (Fool's Gold #3)(11)

“I guess.”

Apparently Crystal had made the right choice in leaving her cat with Jo. The only question was why her friend hadn’t given Jo the cat from the start. No, she reminded herself. That wasn’t the only question.

She felt a slight burning in her eyes. Before she could figure out what was going on, tears blurred her vision. She set down her drink and looked away.

“Pia?”

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re crying.”

Pia fought for control, then sniffed and wiped her cheeks. “Sorry. I don’t mean to. I’m feeling all twisted inside.”

“You really can have Jake back. I’m sorry to have upset you.”

Jo sounded earnest and caring, which Pia appreciated. She gulped in a breath. “It’s not the cat. Okay, yes, part of it is he obviously thinks I’m an idiot. It’s just…”

The embryos. She knew that’s what it was. That if she couldn’t get Crystal’s cat to like her, what hope did she have with actual children? Every time she thought of giving birth to her friend’s babies, she started to freak.

She was totally the wrong person. She had no experience, no support system, no nurturing abilities. She couldn’t even bond with a cat.

But she wasn’t ready to talk about that. Not until she’d made up her mind about what to do.

“I miss her,” she said instead, mostly because it was true. “I miss Crystal.”

“Me, too,” Jo said, sliding toward her.

They hugged.

Pia gave in to her tears. Jo held on, patting her back, not saying anything—just being a friend. Oddly enough, Jake stayed where he was, as well. His warm body and the vibration of his purring offered their own kind of comfort.

Pia allowed the caring to heal her, just a little. But even as she started to feel better, somewhere deep inside, she heard the call of three yet-to-be-born children.

CHAPTER THREE

PIA STOOD ON THE SIDEWALK, trying to breathe. The sense of panic was becoming familiar, as was the blurring of the world around her. Determined not to faint, she drew in deep, slow breaths, supporting herself by putting a hand on the brick building.

Think about something else, she commanded herself. Cookies. Brownies. Ice cream.

Chocolate-chip brownie ice cream.

After a few seconds, her vision cleared and she no longer had the sense that she was going to collapse—or run screaming into the bright, warm afternoon. Everything was fine, she told herself. And if it wasn’t, well, she would fake it until it was.

She straightened, determined to return to her normal professional self. She had a meeting and this time she was going to get through it without doing anything to embarrass herself. No one would know that she’d just—

“You okay?”

She looked up into Raoul’s warm, dark eyes. He stood by an open side door she hadn’t noticed. His expression was both wary and concerned, despite which he looked plenty handsome. Which was pretty rude of him, if you asked her. The least he could do was be forgettable. Especially when she was feeling vulnerable.

Slowly, she turned toward the glass windows next to her and held in a groan.

“You saw that?” she asked cautiously.

“The part where you clutched your chest, bent over and nearly passed out?”

Oh, God. Heat burned her cheeks. “Um, that would be it.”

“Yeah, I saw it.”

She wanted to close her eyes and disappear. But that would violate her mature mandate. Instead she squared her shoulders, sucked in a breath and curved her lips into what she hoped was a smile.

“Sorry. I was distracted.”

He motioned for her to step into his office. “It seemed like more than that.”

“It wasn’t,” she lied, firmly clutching her oversize handbag. “So, as you can see, I’m here and ready for our meeting. I have several ideas for linking the camp with existing festivals. Either with a booth, or as a sponsor. A nonpaying sponsor. We force our corporate friends to cough up the big bucks to get their names on a banner, but we’re more forgiving with the nonprofits.”

“Good to know.”

His office was large, with plenty of windows. There were four desks and lots of open space. She glanced around at the blank walls, the few boxes pushed next to a copy machine and the lone visitor chair.

“I guess decorating isn’t in the budget,” she said.

“We’re still settling. Currently, it’s just Dakota and me. We had more people working in the summer, but they were mostly up at the camp. I wanted room to expand.”

“Apparently. It’s nice. I would have expected a few football posters on the wall.”

“They’re not unpacked yet.”

“When you do get them out, they’ll add plenty of color.”

He motioned to a square folding table in the corner.

Once they were seated on the plain chairs, she withdrew a file folder from her bag and set it on the table. She was aware of him sitting close to her but was willing to pretend she wasn’t. One crisis at a time, she told herself.

“In case you haven’t heard,” she began, “Fool’s Gold is the festival capital of California. We have a major event every single month. By major I mean we draw in over five thousand people and we fill at least fifty percent of the hotel rooms. The result is a nice influx of cash for our city.”