Page 47 of The Billionaire in Her Bed

His cell chimed. He set his plate down on the coffee table and pulled the phone out of his pocket, frowning as he studied the screen.

“Something wrong?” Brooke asked.

“Shit,” he hissed, still scowling at his phone.

“I take it that’s a yes,” David observed wryly.

“Work crisis.” Eli shoved the phone back in his pocket and stood, bumping the coffee table and almost knocking his still full plate onto the floor. He caught it just in time and brought it into the kitchen. “I’m sorry, I have to go deal with this.”

“Now?” Brooke got up and followed him.

“It can’t wait.” He grabbed his coat from the back of the couch, shoved his arms through the sleeves and gave her a quick, distracted kiss. “I’ll text you later.”

She watched him disappear out the door then turned back to David, who was scraping up the last of his drunken noodles.

“What do we do now?” David asked. “About Candy Court?”

Brooke dumped the rest of herpad woon senin the garbage and put her plate in the sink, her appetite suddenly gone. “We make flyers.”

“Flyers?” David looked at her blankly, his jaw slack.

“Advertising a neighborhood meeting.” She sat down at her drafting table and ripped a fresh sheet of paper off her sketchpad. “Then we post them in all the local businesses. There’s strength in numbers. If the new owner thinks he’s going to march in here and turn this place into some sort of yuppie, hipster paradise, we’re going to be ready for him. And we’re not going down without a fight.”