Angela Beck tapped her fingers against the boardroom table
and frowned. The seat across from her was noticeably empty
and she grew more irritated by the moment. They'd held
things up long enough, though why Molly Diamond was running
so very late was a mystery. Molly was usually right on time.
"Angela, we really can't hold off any longer."
Charles Spring, the President of the Butterfly Foundation
board, folded his hands and looked down the table at her,
his gray eyes stern over the rims of his glasses. "We
need to get started."
Charles had graciously agreed to let the foundation meet in
the boardroom of his oil and gas company's headquarters.
It meant a drive into Edmonton, but Angela knew it was
easier for her to commute than for the entire volunteer
board to drive to Cadence Creek for a meeting. As a result
she'd put together a list of things she needed for the
renovations, determined to make the most of the trip. She
didn't have any time to waste if she wanted to make her
projected opening date.
"I know." Angela forced a smile and made herself
remember that every person in the room was volunteering
their time. She was the only one drawing a salary from the
foundation. The reminder was enough to ensure her patience.
The shelter was her dream, but success relied on a lot of
people—people who didn't have this project as their
top priority the way she did. She couldn't afford to
alienate any of them—she'd come too far and
invested too much.
"I'll call the meeting to order, then, at 2:18."
For an hour the board members discussed the latest
fund-raising campaign; Angela outlined the latest PR push
and upcoming open house, adding her input to the proposed
operating budget and counseling services she'd organized
for residents of Butterfly House. She'd thought
she'd worked long hours before as a social worker for
the province, but that was nothing compared to her days
lately, especially as she was a staff of exactly one.
"And now," she said, "I wanted to bring up the
suggestion that we hire some short-term help for the minor
renovations still needed to the house."
Charles tapped his lip and looked over at the board
treasurer, a graying woman with glasses and a stern
demeanor. "Iris?"
"Leave it with me," she suggested. "But
don't get your hopes up. The budget is already
stretched. What's allocated is barely going to cover the
cost of materials. Start adding in labor costs and I start
seeing red ink."
"Perhaps if we can get more donations…"
Soliciting sponsors was definitely not Angela's favorite
part of the job; she hated feeling like the center of
attention and preferred to be behind the scenes. But it had
to be done and so she did it—with a smile and an eye on
the big picture.
The talk then turned to drafting up letters requesting
sponsorship. Angela pinched the bridge of her nose. The
place needed paint and window coverings and the floor in the
living room was in dire need of replacement. Who would come
good for all of that?
She straightened her back. She would do it, somehow. She was
thrilled that her vision was becoming a reality and it was
worth the long hours, the elbow grease and the worry. It
would be better when the house was actually ready for
residents. In its present state it looked the way she
felt—tired and droopy. She'd make it right if she
had to do it all herself.
They were down to the last item on the meeting agenda when
the door opened and
he sauntered in. Sam Diamond
needed no introduction, Angela thought with disdain.
Everyone knew who he was. She resolved to keep her
expression bland as she looked up, wondering why on earth
Sam had shown up instead of his mother, Molly, the Diamond
family representative to the board.
Sam turned a slow smile on the group and Angela clenched her
teeth. He was going to be trouble—with a capital
T. She'd known it from the first moment
he'd sidled up to her at the Butterfly House fundraiser
and had asked in his smooth, deep voice, "Have we
met?" Her tongue had tangled in her throat and she'd
hesitated, feeling stupid and predictable as a purely
feminine reaction warred with her usual timidity when it
came to dealing with members of the opposite
sex—especially in social situations. Well, maybe
he'd had her at a disadvantage during their first
meeting, but she'd kept the upper hand in the end and
she would today, too. She was far more comfortable in a
meeting room than at a cocktail party.
But she'd have to do it delicately. His family had made
Butterfly House possible, and it wouldn't do to bite the
hand that was feeding her project.
"Mr. Diamond." Charles lifted his head and offered a
wide smile. "I'm afraid we started without you."
Started without him? Angela silently fumed. He was over an
hour late and had just walked in as though he had all the
time in the world! And Charles Spring…she felt her
muscles tense. Old boys' club, indeed. Spring might
frown at her over his glasses, but to Diamond he was as
sweet as her mother's chocolate silk pie!
"I got held up." Sam gave the board a wide, charming
smile and removed his hat. "I hope I didn't
inconvenience anyone."
"not at all! There's always time for the
foundation's biggest supporter." Heads around the
table nodded. Sam shook Charles's hand and then put his
thumbs in his pockets.
"I didn't realize I'd be in the company of such
lovely ladies," he drawled, popping just the hint of a
dimple. Angela swore that she could hear the sighs from
three of the board members old enough to be Sam's
mother. "I would have made a better effort to be here
earlier."
Angela thought she might be sick from all the flattery
stuffing up the room. Where was Molly? Why had Sam come in
her stead?
"I do hope your mother's okay," Angela said
clearly. She took off her reading glasses and put them down
on the table. Sam pulled out his chair and met her gaze as
he took a seat. Recognition flared in his eyes for a moment,
then cleared as if they were perfectly polite strangers.
"She's fine, why do you ask?"
There was an edge to his voice and Angela didn't like
it. Maybe he was still nursing a bit of hurt pride where she
was concerned. She blinked. Men like Sam Diamond weren't
used to being refused. Especially when they bought a lady a
drink and told her she was a pretty little thing.
She'd simply said, "No, thank you." It was only
afterward that she'd realized that she'd given a
Diamond—a pillar of the community—his walking
papers. It put her in an awkward position. She needed his
family's support.
She ignored the uneasy glances from the board members and
pasted on a cool smile. "Molly hasn't missed a
meeting yet. She's been so supportive of the foundation.
So I'm a bit surprised to see you here today, Mr.
Diamond."
Dark eyes met hers, challenging. "And you are?"
Oh, the nerve! He knew exactly who she was. She could see by
the gleam in his eye that it was a deliberate cut, intended
to throw her off her stride. She lifted her chin and rose to
the challenge. "Executive Director of Butterfly House,
Angela Beck."
"You obviously didn't receive my message. I called
this morning."
And this morning she'd been outside chasing Morris
around, trying to get the infernal creature indoors before
she had to race into Edmonton. She hadn't stopped to
check messages. She resisted the urge to bite down on her
lip. She wasn't feeling quite as in charge as she'd
like. She was well aware that the Diamond family had a place
on the board; after all, they'd donated the building and
land for Butterfly House and promised an annual donation
toward maintaining the facility. Which was all down to
Molly's generosity, she knew. The younger Diamond had a
reputation that preceded him and it wasn't all
favorable. The fact that he'd tried his charms on her
only made it more awkward. Maybe the deed was already
signed, but without the continuing support the program would
die a quick death unless she could find another sponsor with
deep pockets.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't receive it. I've
been in the city for several hours already."
Angela was aware that every pair of eyes were on the two of
them and that everyone seemed to be holding their breath.
Everyone knew Sam. He was a big man, with big money and a
big ego. Most of the residents spoke of him as if he were a
god. Men respected him and women wanted him—until he
trampled on their affections. She'd had her ears filled
about that already.
But Angela could see the appeal. He was over six feet in his
boots, sexy as sin and looking scrumptious in jeans and a
shirt with a sport jacket thrown over top as a concession to
business attire. Paired with his unassailable confidence, he
made quite the package.
Just because she could understand the attraction did not
mean she was interested, though. He was too… Well, he
was too everything. She'd known it from the moment
he'd tipped his hat and looked down at her with his
bedroom eyes. And after she'd refused his overtures,
he'd gotten this little half smile. "Do you know who
I am?" he'd asked. Clearly she hadn't. But she
did now. They both knew exactly who had the upper
hand—and he was enjoying it.
How kind, gentle Molly Diamond had spawned such an egomaniac
was beyond her. Did he really think his transparent charm
would work on her now when it hadn't the first time?
"My mother won't be attending any board meetings for
the foreseeable future. My father suffered a stroke last
week and she'll be looking after him for the time being.
She requested I sit on the board in her place."
Oh, brother. Sympathy for the lovely Molly and her husband
Virgil warred with annoyance at the turn of events. Angela
and Molly had hit it off from the start, and she'd so
looked forward to talking things over with the older,
friendly woman. Molly had insisted that she'd love to be
involved with turning the house into a real home and had
even helped plan the upcoming open house. Angela
couldn't imagine Sam helping with those sorts of things.
Undoubtedly his impression of "service to the
community" was throwing money at it, then smiling and
shaking a few hands and feeling proud of himself.
"I hadn't heard." Angela forced herself to meet
his gaze. "I'm very sorry about your dad, Mr.
Diamond. Please tell Molly that if she needs anything to
give me a shout."
"Thank you."
But the words came out coolly, without the warm flirtatious
charm he'd used on the other board members. great. It
seemed his pride was still smarting from her response that
night. His question—
Do you know who I
am?—had struck a nerve and made her so defensive
that goose bumps had popped up over her arms. "Should
I?" she'd answered, looking over her shoulder as she
walked away. Her insides had been trembling, but she'd
covered it well. She was done letting domineering men run
roughshod over her.
She'd utterly alienated Sam and she'd done it in
front of the board. He turned his head away now, effectively
ending the conversation. And why wouldn't he? She'd
been prickly as a cactus. Both times they'd met.
Charles wrapped up the meeting, but before he adjourned he
smiled at Sam.
"I'm sure Angela would be happy to fill in the gaps,
Sam. She knows more about the project than anyone."
Angela felt the blood rush to her face as Sam's gaze
settled on her again. "Of course," she murmured. She
would just have to suck it up. What was important was
getting Butterfly House off the ground no matter how often
she had to smile. Maybe Sam wouldn't even be interested
in the details and this would be short and relatively painless.
She could afford a few minutes as long as she could make it
to the hardware store in time to pick up her supplies. By
the time she finished running her errands, it would be
evening before she returned to Cadence Creek. Her whole day
would be gone with little accomplished.
The meeting adjourned and the board members filtered out of
the room. Sam pushed back his chair just far enough that he
could cross an ankle over his knee. Angela organized her
papers, avoiding Sam's penetrating gaze as long as
possible. Finally she put her pen atop the stack and folded
her hands. She looked up and into his stupidly handsome
face. "Shall I bring you up to speed, then? Or will you
be on your way?"
© 2003-2026