Total Control

"You are the biggest jerk that ever walked the earth." Todd Peters froze, sunlight refracting off the water and momentarily blinding him. "It's all I can do right now not to push you off the pier." He squinted and turned, but it was hard to see with his eyes momentarily blinded by the sun. A woman. That much was clear. Blond haired. Skinny. And really, really angry. "With any luck you'd land in a pool of piranhas. Hopefully a whole school of them. Maybe they'd eat your pestilent flesh, nibble out your eyes, then snack on your pea-sized brain for dessert." Todd pushed himself up. "Can I help you?" he asked. Out behind him a Jet Ski roared by. Thewhawha-whaof the engine popping in and out of the water made Todd long for the smooth surface of Lake Norman, too. "Yeah, you could help me. You could help me by showing up when you're supposed to. By not blowing off my clients. By being kind and thoughtful and considerate instead of selfish and pigheaded and a self-centered ass." Okay. That was harsh. "Do I know you?" he asked. "No, you don't know me, but I know ofyou," she said. "And what I know, I don't particularly like." She'd started to come into focus. The hair went from mouse-blond to platinum with reds and browns mixed in, the strands loose and well past her shoulders. The oval face suddenly had the cheekbones of a ferocious feline. The brown eyes weren't just brown, they were a brilliant, nearly green-hazel--and they were furious. "How'd you get down here?" he asked, glancing back toward his house and at the French doors at the rear of his multileveled home. They were closed. He leaned forward, hoping to see past the lush foliage that surrounded his backyard. The side gate appeared closed. And locked. "I climbed over the fence," she admitted. "You climbed over?" he asked, wondering if he needed to call the police. "I wanted to see you. And since neither you nor your assistant, Jennifer Scott, seem willing to call me back, a padlock gate wasn't going to stand in my way." Jennifer. She knew his PR rep. Maybe not a crazy woman after all. "I see," he said. "What'd you need to see me about?" he asked. "I work forMiracles," she pronounced, an expectant expression coming to her face at the mention of the charity group. "Who?" "Miracles,"she said again. "You know. Formerly known as theWishing TreeFoundation." Okay.Thatrang a bell. "I see. And what doesMiracleswant with me?" he asked, although he already knew. It wouldn't be the first time the wish-fulfilling organization had asked him to grant a wish, although this was the first time one of their volunteers had ever accosted him in his home. "You mean you can't guess?" "Why don't you just fill me in instead." She looked incredulous. Behind him, water splashed against the front of his boat. He braced himself for the inevitable rocking of the dock beneath his feet. "You're unreal, you know that?" she said. "You show absolutely no remorse." "Remorse? For what?" he asked. "Blowing off two meetings." "I did?" "Are you denying it?" "I don't manage my schedule," he said, going back to his task of untying his boat. "So if I did blow you off, chances are I didn't know it was you." "How can that be?" she asked, following him from cleat to cleat. "I'm told where to go, and if I can't make a meeting, I tell my reps to cancel it." He untied another line. The Scarab was thirty-five feet long, sleek and heavy. It'd been a gift from one of his sponsors, its red, yellow and orange paint scheme seemingly luminescent. The minute he untied a line, the fiberglass hull started to drift away. He moved quickly to the next cleat. "You blew offtwomeetings with us. One last month and one this month." "That's unusual," he said. "I don't usually cancel meetings with charity organizations," he added.[read more]