Trouble With Tonya Page 2

  “I see,” Kirk said.

  “But having someone here all the time, lookin’ over our shoulders,” Ladonna grumbled. “What’s he gonna do?”

  “She. She’ll have an office in the building, watch what’s going on. Someone from the family is coming. Name’s Tonya Brewster.” Ramon picked up a pencil, slid it casually between his fingers. “Nichols said she, um, majored in psychology in college.”

  “Oh well, then bring her on.” Ladonna laid on the sarcasm as only she could.

  “When’d she go to college?” Kirk asked.

  “Yeah, in what century?” Ladonna added. “She was probably in class with Freud.” She ran a hand over her tight curls and glanced at Kirk. “What are we going to do about this?”

  “Well,” Ramon offered uncertainly, “we could tell the Brewster Foundation to take their money and—” He finished the sentence with a crude description. “But are we in a position to do that?”

  “Kirk, you haven’t said anything. What do you think?” Ladonna asked, turning to him.

  His gut reaction had been to tell the Brewster Foundation to take a hike, but that would be foolish. He couldn’t spoil the center’s chance to make a difference in this community, and he knew the others would listen to him. He erased the grim expression from his face and said, “Let’s be sensible. We need the money, bad. I say we take it, give this Brewster lady an office and go on about our business. I guarantee she won’t last here more than a week.”

  After a few token murmurs of protest, the others agreed. After all, as they all knew, they didn’t have many choices.

  “Okay, compadres,” Ramon said once that was settled. “Tonya Brewster wants to come for an inspection tour the day after tomorrow.”

  “So, go pretty up your offices,” Ladonna ordered.

  “Yeah. We also have a reporter from Inside Texas magazine coming that day to gather material for an article, and someone from the Houston schools made an appointment to talk about our summer programs. So let’s make our offices real pretty.”

  “Got it,” Ladonna said. “Hey, since we’re about to become a funded facility, why don’t we go out and do some celebrating after work?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Ramon said. “Pizza and beer?”

  “Sure. Let’s meet out front at six,” Ladonna said. “Kirk?”

  “I’m in. As long as we stick to the rules.”

  “No talking about work,” the others chorused.

  Kirk had instituted that rule soon after they’d started the Center, when he realized that they spent too many evenings rehashing daytime problems. Dinner out now was strictly fun and games. He liked the pizza joint they usually frequented. Small, crowded and convivial, it smelled of oregano and beer. The jukebox was loud, and the crowd, a mixture of blue-collar workers and professionals, even louder. He knew most of the regulars and had casually dated a few women he’d met there. He’d also indulged in a long-standing flirtation with one of the waitresses, who always managed to slip a few extra slices of pepperoni on his pizza.

  Now, as the three of them left the conference room, Ladonna hesitated. “Since we’re not talking about the center tonight, I’ve got one more question. Do you guys really think this is gonna work out?”

  Ramon smiled, white teeth flashing against tan skin. “What Butler really thinks is that we don’t need some rich bitch who doesn’t know diddly squat about the streets coming in here to run the show.”

  He’d hit it squarely on the nose, but Kirk smiled easily. “Don’t put words in my mouth, pal,” he said. “That’s what you think.”

  Ladonna’s frown deepened. “You think she’ll take over?”

  “Nah.” Kirk urged Ladonna out of the office and threw an arm around her shoulder. “No way some little blue-haired lady’s gonna park herself here. She’ll take one look at Janene North, fourteen and pregnant, and get a dose of Germain Parker’s mouth, then head straight back to the country dub.”

  “I surely hope so,” Ladonna murmured.

  “Count on it,” Kirk assured her. “Miz Brewster will be here and gone so fast we won’t even notice she’s been around.”

  TONYA GLANCED at the scribbled directions on the slip of paper in her hand. Shaking her head, she pulled over and picked up the city map beside her. “Turn right on Magnolia,” she muttered. “Where’s Magnolia?” Squinting at the jumble of lines and tiny print that mapmakers seemed to delight in, she finally located the street. “Two more blocks.”

  She swung out into the street again, creeping along far below her usual speed so she wouldn’t miss her turn. Taking her time gave her a chance to study the neighborhood. Debris-strewn gutters. Shabby apartment buildings decorated with graffiti. Run-down stores, several with benches in front occupied by surly-looking young men, lounging in the faint February sun as if they had nothing better to do. They eyed her with menacing interest as she drove past. Drug dealers? Carjackers? Tonya shivered.

  Well, she wouldn’t be here long. If her grandfather had any sense, he wouldn’t want her here long. She’d stress that at dinner tonight. This neighborhood couldn’t be safe.

  And in case apprising him of the danger wasn’t enough, she’d tour the center, take a few notes and explain that she had neither the interest nor the expertise to manage an inner-city facility. Nope, her talent was in...

  Nothing, she admitted with a sudden pang. She wasn’t an expert in much of anything except wanderlust.

  Before she had time to reflect on her shortcomings, she spied the street sign she was looking for and made a right, glad to get off the main thoroughfare and away from the staring eyes.

  Magnolia was a residential street The name conjured up a vision of wide lawns, palatial homes, but these residences were shotgun houses, dilapidated bungalows with sagging porches and tiny, ill-kept yards. Only one or two showed evidence of care and pride—flower gardens, well-tended grass. The rest looked as if they should be bulldozed. Rusty pickups occupied several of the driveways. A chubby toddler dressed in denim overalls sat on the steps of one house. He waved as Tonya drove past

  Three blocks down she came upon the OK Center. The building, which looked as if it had once been a school, was brick, with a large central structure and wings fanning out on either side. The yard was clean, with none of the trash Tonya had seen littering the fronts of other buildings in the area. She saw a basketball court enclosed by a chain-link fence and, close to the building, playground equipment shaded by tall oak trees.

  She pulled into a parking space and got out of her car. She started to lock it, then remembered the briefcase she’d brought. She opened the door, leaned over and reached across the front seat, then backed out.

  “That car is begging to be stripped,” growled a harsh voice in her ear.

  Tonya gasped and turned to meet a pair of angry brown eyes.

  She wished she’d taken the self-defense course Sam had recommended, but even a black belt wouldn’t help her take on this guy. He was big. Very big. Wide shoulders, massive chest. And those eyes. Fury leapt from them like sparks from an electric wire.

  The thought flashed through her mind that this was just the scenario she might have concocted to convince her grandfather that she shouldn’t be here. But she didn’t care for the reality now staring her in the face.

  Was the man a mugger? A rapist? Or just your ordinary car thief?

  Though her heart pounded, Tonya refused to cringe. She forced herself to look him in the eye. “Wh-what do you want?” she whispered.

  “Give me your keys and—”

  Her keys? She’d give him her money, her watch, but not the keys to Rusty, her beloved Jaguar. Never. How dare he, and in broad daylight, too.

  Frantically, Tonya glanced over her shoulder. A blue Chevy turned into a parking spot a few spaces down, and a tall, mahogany-skinned woman wearing a gray nylon jacket got out Thank God!

  Tonya mashed down the button on the tiny alarm box on her key ring. A high-pitched wail sounded, and the man jumped back.
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  “What the hell?” he roared, covering his ears.

  “Help!” Tonya screamed, adding her voice to the din. “Help!”

  She dashed around the back of the car with the brute right behind her. The pavement was uneven. She stumbled into a pothole and her shoe came off. Her briefcase slid out of her hand.

  Like a character in an old Keystone Kops movie, her pursuer tripped over it and fell to his knees.

  Tonya saw him go down, and unable to restrain her anger at his audacity, she raised her purse high in the air and brought it down on his head..

  At that moment, the woman reached her. “Hey, what is it? What’s going on?” she shouted, drowning out the curses issuing from the man’s mouth.

  “He...he tried to...steal my car.” Gasping for breath, Tonya lifted her purse again.

  “He...” The woman stared at the dark-eyed man, who was getting to his feet. “Kirk? You ripping off this lady’s car?”

  Hands up to protect his face from Tonya’s wrath, the man shook his head. “Hell, no. I was about to offer to park it in the back for her when she went ballistic on me.”

  Silently, the three stared at one another. Lord, what had she done, Tonya thought. The poor guy had tried to be a hero, and she’d assaulted him with a designer handbag. “I, uh...”

  Trying to think of a way out of this embarrassing situation, she stared at the man in front of her. He looked tough, disreputable. Shaggy chestnut hair reached his jacket collar, and even this early in the day his face bore a dark stubble, evidence of an indifferent shave. His jeans were frayed and faded, his shoes scuffed. The silver buckle at his waist looked like a lethal weapon in itself. He reminded her of a pirate, one of those impudent, reckless adventurers from the movies she’d watched as a kid. “How was I supposed to know what he wanted?” she mumbled. “He looks dangerous.”

  The woman laughed, a rich, throaty sound. “Yeah, he sure does,” she agreed, “but he’s really a pussycat.”

  Tonya doubted that. He might not be a mugger, but he was nobody’s kitten. A tiger, more likely. But the humor of the situation struck her, and she, too, began to chuckle. After a moment, the man joined in. A dimple slashed his left cheek, and laughter transformed his face from threatening to wickedly appealing. She suddenly remembered that the pirates in those old movies were also always devilishly sexy.

  The woman extended a hand. “I’m Ladonna Martin. Can I help you with something?”

  Tonya shook her hand. “I’m Tonya Brewster. I have an appointment at the Our Kids Center.”

  “Well, you’re here.” Ladonna frowned. “Did you say Brewster?” When Tonya nodded, Ladonna shot a meaningful look at the man. “Well, Ms. Brewster,” she said, her voice suddenly becoming sugary, “we’re certainly glad to have you. This is Kirk Butler, one of our founders.” Another glance at the man.

  He was one of the center’s founders? With an effort, Tonya kept her mouth from dropping open as she turned to shake his hand.

  He’d extended it, all right, but he held out her shoe. “Oh,” she mumbled, embarrassed again. She took the shoe, bent to slip it on, then looked up again.

  His hand was still out. If her heart had pounded when she’d thought he was a carjacker, it beat double time now as she laid her hand in his. Strong, callused fingers grasped hers. He stared at her, and there was something in his gaze. Something very male, very...dangerous. Tonya swallowed.

  Behind her, she heard the soft clearing of a throat. At the sound, the gleam in Kirk Butler’s eyes disappeared, to be replaced by a look of cool appraisal.

  Confused, Tonya pulled her hand away. His remained extended. “Keys,” he said.

  “The car’ll be safer in the back,” Ladonna urged.

  Reluctantly, Tonya handed over her keys. Kirk Butler’s hand closed around them, then, without another word, he strode back to Tonya’s car.

  2

  TONYA DIDN’T SEE HIM again when she went inside. Although the center’s other founders—Ladonna and Ramon Herrera—joined her in Ramon’s office, Kirk didn’t put in an appearance. Tonya told herself she was relieved. That powerful male aura would have distracted her, and she needed to concentrate on what was being said as well as pretend she understood it.

  Besides that, something was wrong here. Although both Ladonna and Ramon sounded enthusiastic and friendly, she sensed it was a sham. When they didn’t realize she was looking at them, she saw the same cool dislike in their eyes that she’d seen in Kirk’s. Why? she wondered. She’d expected them to be delighted about the foundation’s support. Instead, she felt an undercurrent of hostility hidden behind false smiles.

  Ramon, who served as the center’s administrator, went over the current budget and showed Tonya the new programs they would initiate once the funding was in place. As he spoke, she nodded and made notes. She’d never dealt with figures this large. How was she supposed to oversee this kind of money? Not only would she have to get past animosity she didn’t understand, but she’d be way over her head coping with financial matters.

  Ramon leaned forward. “One thing we’re going to concentrate on is our mentoring program. Kirk Butler, our program director, will tell you more about that when you meet him.”

  “We’ve, um, met,” Tonya said. Ladonna coughed, probably to cover a laugh, and Tonya’s cheeks heated.

  Apparently unaware of the byplay, Ramon continued. “We have a good start, but we need to recruit more successful men to give these boys role models, show them they can have another future besides hanging out in a gang.”

  “What about a program for girls?” Tonya asked.

  “Sure. The girls need mentors, too,” Ladonna said, and Tonya thought she saw a flicker of respect in the woman’s eyes.

  “The grant will allow us to hire several new staff members,” Ramon continued. “And we hope the foundation can help us with community contacts and publicity.”

  “Contacts,” Tonya murmured. She scribbled another note and cringed inwardly. These people wanted big corporate contacts, and she doubted the owner of a boutique or a mystery bookstore would count.

  When the meeting ended, Ladonna said, “I’ll take you on a tour.”

  As they left Ramon’s office, Tonya noticed her car keys on the front desk. Kirk Butler had apparently brought them in and left Although she reminded herself that she was glad he hadn’t attended the meeting, she couldn’t help but wonder why. Following Ladonna down the hall, she put Kirk out of her mind and tried to concentrate on what the woman was saying.

  “This neighborhood is ethnically mixed and that makes for a volatile situation. Fifteen, twenty years ago the area was white, but then African Americans started moving in and, later, Hispanics. Each race has its own gangs, and believe me, some of what goes on between them, you don’t wanna know. About the only time those kids see eye to eye is when we get ’em together for sports.”

  They stopped at a small room, empty except for a black metal desk and a couple of chairs. The walls, however, made up for the scarcity of furnishings. Bright posters, snapshots of children, kids’ crayon drawings covered every available inch of space. “Nice,” Tonya said.

  “Thanks. I like to have color around. Makes me feel happy.” Ladonna hung her jacket over the back of her chair, then deposited her purse in the desk drawer and locked it. “You gotta keep your valuables locked up around here. Don’t want to tempt the kids. They got enough temptation other places. We’ll get you a desk with a key. You going to be starting here Monday?”

  “I don’t know,” Tonya answered honestly. “Maybe, or maybe someone else from the foundation will. I have some...other commitments.”

  She heard a sound behind her and turned to see Kirk lounging in the doorway, his eyes assessing her.

  “I’m taking Tonya around the building,” Ladonna began. The phone rang. She picked it up, listened a moment and asked her caller to wait. Her hand over the mouthpiece, she said, “It’s Janene North’s mother. This’ll take a while.”

  “That’s
all ri—” Tonya began.

  “I’ll show you around,” Kirk interrupted, his eyes crinkling with mirth, “as long as you promise not to beat me with your purse.”

  Tonya felt a blush stain her cheeks. Reluctantly, she joined him in the hall.

  Though at five-seven she was taller than average, she felt like a pygmy walking beside a giant. He had to be at least six foot four, and every inch of it male muscle. His stride was long. She practically had to jog to keep up with him. Intending to look businesslike this morning, she’d worn her one and only suit, and its pencil-slim skirt didn’t allow for sprinting down hallways. Or sprinting anywhere, as she’d found out earlier when she’d tripped in the pothole. Any minute now the skirt would rip or she’d trip in her high heels. “Could you slow down?” she panted.

  He complied without apology. “You’d better wear jeans next time you’re here,” he suggested, then glanced at her sharply. “But you’re not sure you’re coming back, are you?”

  Was that a hopeful note in his voice? Chagrined that he’d overheard her remark to Ladonna, Tonya shook her head.

  “You ought to think it over,” he said.

  Tonya halted in midstride. “Why?”

  “I don’t imagine this is your usual kind of hangout. The neighborhood’s rough, this place is rough.”

  She’d had the same thought herself when she’d driven into the area, but hearing him say it miffed her. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Think that purse would hold off a gang?”

  She wished he’d leave her purse out of it. His voice was teasing, but the scornful look in his eyes piqued her temper even further.

  Before she could think of a cutting reply, he turned, unlocked a door and waved her inside a room furnished with desks, bookshelves and a couple of beanbag chairs. “This is our after-school study hall,” he said.

  Tonya glanced at the meager supplies on the shelves. A couple of dictionaries, an atlas, a dog-eared encyclopedia. She’d noticed a number of items on their to-buy list that must have been intended for this room.