Page 61 of The Billionaire in Her Bed

Chapter Fifteen

“Not bad for our first meeting.” Brooke stood in the back of the gym at the neighborhood elementary school and surveyed the crowd filing in and taking their seats in the folding chairs she, Charise, and David had spent the last hour setting up. They were lucky the school board had agreed to let them use the space. They would have been spilling out the door of Brooke’s studio. “I’d say we’ve got at least a hundred people out there.”

“Just wait.” Charise rubbed her hands together. “We’ll have a bigger crowd next meeting when we’ve got more time to get the word out. We’re not going down without a fight.”

“The natives are getting restless.” Brooke shuffled the papers in her folder. “We should get things rolling.”

“No,” David squeaked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Not yet. It’s still a few minutes before seven.”

Brooke eyed him suspiciously. “What is with you?”

“Nothing.” He stopped bouncing and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his perfectly pressed khakis. “I just think we should give everyone a chance to get here. We need all the help we can get.”

“Okay, you win. I’m going to find a quiet corner to go over my notes.” A little extra prep time couldn’t hurt. Just as she’d predicted, she’d been distracted since her sister’s visit, Mallory’s words continuously bumping around her brain.

That guy is totally in love with you.

You owe him the chance to explain. You owe it to yourself.

Sometimes you’ve just got to trust your instincts.

Like that was so easy. Her instincts were what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. Out of all the guys in the five boroughs, leave it to her to pick the one buying her building to be her one-night stand. A one-night stand that had morphed into something much, much more.

She’d thought about calling Eli a hundred million trillion times. But each time she picked up the phone, she put it back down again. He’d tried to reach out to her in the days following the auction, and she’d shot him down at every turn. What if it was too late now? What if she put her heart on the line only to find out he’d moved on? That he no longer cared about her or Candy Court?

Brooke shook her head to clear it. She didn’t have time for this now. She needed to bring her A game tonight. The rest of Candy Court—the rest of the neighborhood—was counting on her. At least she’d showered and put on pants without an elastic waistband and a shirt that didn’t advertise what she’d eaten for dinner last night. That was a step in the right direction.

She clutched her folder to her chest and headed for the hallway. She needed out of the gym, with its noisy buzz of chatter and the heat building up as the crowd grew. “Come get me when you’re ready to start.”

David found her ten minutes later in a classroom across the hall, still reviewing her notes. Zoning laws. Variances. Historical landmarks. There was a lot to remember, every bit of it important if they were going to save their homes and the area around them.

“You’re on.” He gave her a thumbs-up then let his cheerful guard down, his eyes filling with concern. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“I’m sure.” With shaky hands, she put her papers back in the folder, checking and double-checking that they were in the right order. “I know I’ll have to face him sooner or later, but it’s not like he’s going to be here tonight.”

David was the only one at Candy Court who she’d told about Eli buying the building. Probably because, other than her sister, he was the only one brave enough to get close to her when she looked and smelled like yesterday’s garbage. The others just thought Eli had gone as quickly and mysteriously as he’d come.

They’d find out the truth soon enough. She didn’t want to be the one to disillusion them.

“Right.” David pulled on his collar. “Let’s go.”

The gym was more crowded now. Brooke recognized a few familiar faces in addition to the Candy Court crew. Her boss and some of the other staff at Flotsam and Jetsam. The two guys who owned the brewpub. Wayne, looking clean and sober with a middle-aged woman she assumed was his wife.

“Good turnout,” David observed as they climbed the stairs to the stage at the far end of the gym, where Charise and the Feingolds were seated.

“What’s the holdup?” Mr. Feingold grumbled. “I want to get to the cookies and coffee.”

“Like you need cookies,” his wife shot back. “And you know you’re not supposed to have caffeine after eight o’clock, or you’ll never get to sleep.”

Brooke stepped up to the microphone front and center. “If you’ll take your seats, we’ll get started.”

She waited a minute for everyone to get settled before she began. “As you know, we’re here to discuss the sale of Candy Court and what it means for our community.”

“It means we’re going to be the next Park Slope,” someone shouted out.

“And pretty soon none of us will be able to afford to live in our own neighborhood,” someone else added.

“That’s what we’re here to prevent,” Brooke said. “I have a few ideas…”