Until We Say Goodbye

by Jane Drager

  “Champagne and caviar are for dates, Lauren. We’re on a mission.” He grabbed two water bottles from the cooler, unscrewed both, and placed them in the fold-down cup holders between their seats. He spread napkins across his suit before taking a large bite.

  She pointed to the driver. “What about Lou?”

  “He’ll eat while we look at the apartment.” He took another bite, chewed, and then shifted the rest to the side of his mouth, bulging his cheek. “I’ve no need to impress you, Lauren. Lou belongs to the company owner and drives whoever and wherever he’s told. I’m privileged because I’m the North American agent, and a lot of my properties are here in Manhattan.” He chewed then swallowed. “This city has some of the most expensive real estate in the world. We’re currently heading to one.”

  Nearly choking on her food, she lifted her napkin to her mouth and stared. “You know I can’t afford much.”

  “That’s why you’ll have a job.”

  The hand with the napkin fell to her lap. “What are you talking about? I don’t have time for a job.”

  “For this one, you will.” With a napkin, he wiped his mouth while gesturing with his hand toward her backpack. “I see you don’t carry a purse. Do you keep everything in your shoulder bag?”

  “No. I keep my cell phone and room key in my jeans and my wallet in my jacket pocket. Otherwise, I carry nothing else of value.” She sipped her water. “I started the habit the day I arrived and spotted all the derelicts at the train station.” She shook her head. “I can’t wait to leave this city.”

  There. She reminded him not to waste his time. Obviously, Deems Lambert was a great catch, but she wasn’t fishing. Even though the man had returned hope to her heart, she’d never allow herself to fall in love. In her mind, a city-boy versus country-girl pairing would never work, and if she kept her distance, she should emerge from their friendship unscathed.

  Yeah, right.

  His musk cologne swirled around the inside of the limo and distracted her to no end. She barely took notice of where they were or where they were going.

  The limo slowed.

  Deems stuffed the remainder of his meal into his mouth, removed the napkins, and swept the crumbs off his suit. After swallowing, he glanced out the window. “We’re here, Lauren. You can finish on the way back.”

  Quickly, Lauren rewrapped her sandwich and shoved the bundle into the small cooler. After unbuckling her seatbelt, she kicked her backpack to the side and followed Deems onto the sidewalk. Mouth agape, she froze.

  Chapter Eleven

  Eyes nearly popping from their sockets, Lauren gawked at the most beautiful marble-faced high-rise with glass double doors for an entrance. The building stretched upward to God only knew how many floors. No doorman or overhead canopy were visible, but nevertheless, the place was way out of her league. To make matters worse, Central Park sat across the street with all its green splendor.

  A sense of disorientation hit. The tall building before her, the beautiful park behind, and a limo at the curb. Definitely not her world of tractors and apples, and a fluttery feeling filled her belly. What was he thinking? She knew enough about the expensive properties surrounding the perimeter of the park. They provided homes for some of the richest people in the world. Swallowing hard, she met Deems’ twinkling gaze. “We’re on Fifth Avenue, right?” She gripped his jacket sleeve. “Are you out of your mind?”

  As a gentle smile curled his lips, he patted the hand on his sleeve. “Trust me, you’ll love everything about this arrangement. Unfortunately, the Stewarts’ condo doesn’t face the park, but you can’t have everything.”

  Have everything? What the hell is he talking about?

  With his warm palm on the small of her back, he ushered her through the two glass doors and into a marble-tiled lobby where a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. White marble paneled the walls, held together by strips of gold metal. Every inch sparkled, and one dared not track in any dirt.

  From behind a desk full of computer screens, a security guard shot to his feet. “Afternoon, Mr. Lambert.”

  “Hi, Robert. We’re heading for the Stewarts’.”

  “Right. Hold on.” He lifted a desk phone to his ear, spoke briefly, and then ended the call. “They’re waiting, sir.” Slipping from behind the desk, he headed toward an open elevator while pulling a ring of keys from his belt.

  Still with his hand on her back, Deems nudged her forward. She forced her legs to move, and together, they stepped into the elevator.

  Robert inserted a key into the slot near the fourth floor button but backed out with a smile and a quick salute before the doors closed.

  Polished to perfection, the marble paneling continued in the elevator, and she glided her fingers along the cold surface. The elevator control panel sparkled with glossy brass, boasting of fifteen mother-of-pearl floor buttons.

  “Close your mouth, Lauren.”

  Heat seeping into her cheeks, she slapped her lips together and met his amused gaze. “You don’t really expect me to live here, do you?” He’d taken her to an exorbitant neighborhood, fully aware of her problems with money. Was he deaf? Hadn’t he heard anything at all?

  “You will live and work here. They need a condo sitter.”

  Heart racing, she whirled to face him. “A what?”

  A smile tugged the corner of his mouth. “Someone to watch their place while they travel. Here we are.”

  The elevator doors opened onto a long carpeted hall with two heavily-carved wooden doors opposite each other. Three small, lit chandeliers brightened the way. At the far end alongside a fire hose encased in glass, a fire exit door stood with its lit sign overhead. No marble on the walls, just ordinary gray paneling trimmed with wood. Still elegant but without the opulence.

  “Come on, Lauren.”

  Her feet refused to move. “Deems—” Her mouth resembled the Sahara, and she swallowed hard.

  He gave her a warm smile. “They’ll love you.”

  Slipping his hand over hers, he urged her from the elevator.

  The warmth of his hand distracted her from the growing panic but not enough to shake her from a stupefied state. Was she dreaming? Hell, she must be. Any second, she’d awaken and find herself still soldering in class.

  He advanced toward the door on the left where he tapped a mother-of-pearl doorbell.

  Church bells chimed from deep within to announce their arrival. She wasn’t sure why, but she glanced upward as if expecting to see the bell tower.

  A woman in her late fifties swung open the door with a flair. She had fly-away, bleach-blonde hair firmly lacquered in place, a diamond the size of a boulder on her left hand, and a string of pearls around her neck. She flashed a brilliant smile. “You brought her. Oh, Deems, I’m so glad. Come in, come in.” Stepping aside, she waved toward the living room.

  Lauren entered a spacious room fit for a king. White furniture, white rugs, and sparkling gold-trimmed lamps with dangling tassels dominated the interior. Crystal figurines decorated tables and shelves, and potted plants covered every nook and cranny, layered on stands, tables, and the floor. The whole room looked like a forest surrounded by snow.

  A man trudged from the right hallway carrying two heavy suitcases, which he plunked alongside four others already resting by the door. Bald, round, and not much taller than his wife, he gasped and sputtered from the exertion.

  Deems used an elbow to nudge her forward. “Carol and Bill Stewart, meet Lauren Howell.”

  Both appraised her with a satisfied nod.

  Like meat on a skewer. She glanced at Deems for some affirmation as to what the hell all the scrutiny was about but received only a grin in return.

  Carol touched Lauren’s arm. “Can you start tonight?”

  “Deems hasn’t filled me in, Mrs. Stewart.” She glowered at Deems.

  Carol dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Just like a man. As if women are mind-readers.” She scrunched her face at Deems then looped her arm through L
auren’s and guided her toward the center of the living room. “Well, dear, last night, I ran into Deems and told him of our woes about finding a reliable person to take care of all my babies.” She fingered a leaf on one of the plants. “Our housekeeper will stay if I ask, but she’s made plans to visit her family out in Arizona. Our dilemma boiled down to our neighbor across the hall lending us her housekeeper, but I never liked the woman—our neighbor, not the housekeeper. Way too snobby for my liking.” She nudged her farther into the room. “Anyway, Deems mentioned you needed a place to live until you finished school. The timing was perfect. We’ll pay you a thousand a week, and we’ll need you for at least a month. Are my terms suitable?”

  Mouth agape, Lauren staggered then shook herself. “A thousand dollars a week?”

  Loosening her hold on Lauren’s arm, Carol Stewart raised her brows. “What, not enough? Fifteen hundred then.”

  Lauren’s head spun. She reached with a hand to her forehead, as if to hold her head in place. “Mrs. Stewart, please—no, a thousand is good enough.”

  “You’ll help us then?” Carol patted Lauren’s arm before releasing. “Oh, I’m so pleased. You’re house-sitting along with caring for the plants and keeping the place clean.” Whirling, she grasped Lauren by the shoulders. “Can you start immediately? We leave tonight.” She dropped her hands.

  Stunned at the sudden turn of events, Lauren simply nodded. This job was her best break in months. And all because of Deems. Eyes wide, she shot him a glance.

  He responded with a wink.

  Heart pumping wildly, Lauren barely contained her joy. “After class tonight, I’ll run and pack my things. What time do you leave?”

  “Our transportation is arranged for seven. If you arrive before then, good. I’ll leave a list of the feeding schedules for the plants on the kitchen counter. If by chance you’re late, you can obtain the key from Robert at the security desk.” She wagged a finger at Deems. “Make sure Robert knows her.”

  “I’ll do that.” He headed for the door. “Come on, Lauren. Let’s return you to class.”

  Class? Why? Shaking herself, she thanked the Stewarts and followed.

  Bill Stewart led them to the elevator. “You made my wife very happy.” Reaching around Lauren, he jabbed the Down button for the elevator. “You don’t know what you’re in for, but I can honestly admit you should have taken the fifteen hundred. My wife sings to her plants. She’ll probably expect you to do the same.”

  Hell, if required, she’d sing soprano. What a friggin’, lucky break.

  The elevator doors opened. He inserted a key into the lobby slot and turned, removed it, and held out his hand to Deems. “We’ll see you when we return.”

  As the elevator descended, Lauren stared at the closed doors while placing a palm onto her forehead. “I can’t believe what just happened.”

  Gazing upward, Deems followed the changing overhead floor lights. “I’d say you’re perfect for the job.” Lowering his gaze, he leaned toward her. “You’ll be safer here.”

  Safer and with a salary. How had she become blessed all of a sudden? Dropping her hand, she met his gaze. “Why are you doing this?”

  His brow cocked. “I’m helping friends. I’ve known Carol and Bill for years, and then, of course, there’s you until we say goodbye.”

  Say goodbye? She shook herself. Yes, naturally, until we say goodbye. She again stared at the doors. “A thousand bucks a week. What I don’t spend, I can put toward my loans.”

  Like the floodgates opening, the reality hit. She shrieked with glee, whirled, and threw herself into his arms. She regretted not meeting Deems earlier. He had become her good luck charm, and because of him, she would spend the remainder of her New York stay in comfort.

  Deems responded by wrapping his arms tight around her. “Don’t thank me yet, woman. You’ve a forest to attend, and I hope you know something about plants, being from the country and all.”

  Tilting her head, she gazed into his twinkling eyes. “I know quite a bit about plants, Mr. Lambert. My mother grows all kinds of flowers.” As the elevator slowed, she pecked his lips. “Thank you, Deems.” The doors opened.

  He released his arms but clamped onto her hand. “Hold on. Some instructions are in order.” He pointed to the control panel. “I’m sure you noticed how a special key inserted activates the elevator. The key works only for that particular floor. Also, you’ll notice two elevators, but you can only use this one. The other is reserved for the penthouse.”

  Leading her through the open doors, he paused in the middle of the hallway and pointed to the fire escape at the end. “All the staircase doors have alarms to alert security so no one can sneak up to bother you. No one can visit unless they go through Robert or the night guard, Johnny. I’m sure you noticed how Robert called the Stewarts before allowing us into the elevator. He follows standard procedure for all of our high-rises.”

  After glancing at the sparkling marble and then his exquisite suit, she cast him a one-eyed squint. “Your company owns this building?”

  “Yes, and I’m responsible for the management. The structure is fifteen stories high plus a penthouse, two condos per floor—except for the penthouse which occupies the entire floor. The penthouse is also the only unit with access to the roof.” He turned toward the lobby, still holding her hand. “For tonight, I’ll lend you Lou. He’ll wait by the studio, drive you to your room, and then here. He’ll save you a lot of time and be your bodyguard should Eric come calling.”

  They approached the security desk. Robert already stood, watching them.

  Deems squeezed her hand. “Robert, Lauren Howell will be staying in the Stewarts’ condo until they return.”

  Robert gave her a warm smile. “Glad to have you, miss. If you need anything, call me.”

  Need? She’d have money, a nice place to live, and security a phone call away. What could she possibly need? She felt so damn happy she might break down and cry.

  Chapter Twelve

  “You’re certainly cheery.”

  Deems glanced up from his laptop to realize he had been whistling. Betty, his executive assistant, had walked into the office with more paperwork—and he didn’t care! “You’re making exceptional coffee these days, Mrs. McGann.”

  She peered over a pair of eyeglasses. “I make the coffee the same every day so I’m sure your attitude influenced your taste.” She placed the paperwork into his Inbox. “Did you have a nice lunch?”

  “I had a wonderful lunch.” Having Lauren by his side in the limo, watching her finish her half sandwich, and knowing she’d be safe in the Stewarts’ condo, hell—yeah, he was a happy man. His mood hadn’t been so light in years and all because of one woman. In the elevator, when Lauren had thrown herself into his arms, she bubbled with an enthusiasm that caused her face and eyes to glow. The shadow clouding her had disappeared, and she changed into the most beautiful woman in the world. Once reseated in the limo, he almost told Lou to take a round-about route to the studio.

  “You’re whistling again.”

  So he was. He cleared his throat and slipped the top paper from the pile. “What’s this?”

  “The fax from Dan Williams in Argentina. You know, the report you requested about Mark Jordan.” She adjusted her glasses.

  Deems read the list of attributes. Aggressive, confident, dependable. “My gut said Mark was good, and Dan’s had several months to evaluate my new hire.” He leaned back in his plush leather chair and smiled. “Mark reminds me of me, a real go-getter and not afraid to stick out his neck.” He glanced at Betty. “Has he landed in New York yet?”

  “Yes, he cleared Customs. I sent Lou to the airport.”

  “Good. I’m sure Dan told him he’s in the running for a promotion.” Finished with the fax, he placed the paper to the side. “Let me know when he arrives.”

  “Right.”

  Betty stood with a big smirk on her face. Since he recognized that crafty little glint in her eyes, he narrowed his gaze. “Somet
hing on your mind?”

  “You’ve been rearranging your busy schedule a lot these days. I’m hoping this woman forces you to work less.” Gaze twinkling behind the glasses, she left, closing the door after her.

  He hadn’t become a successful man by sitting idle. Yes, he always had his schedule book full but rarely for social activities. Until Lauren, he hadn’t made any exceptions. No getting around the fact. Life was wonderful. The business was doing well, and his new hires were working out better than anticipated. He’d met a fascinating woman who excited him in ways he hadn’t experienced in years, and he actually whistled in tune. Lauren had changed his perspective on everything. Closing his laptop, he grabbed a few papers from the Inbox and skimmed through the contents.

  The only detail souring his euphoria was their friendship agreement. He’d like to move their relationship in a different direction, but she hated New York and used the excuse to keep him at arm’s length. Well, guess what, Lauren Howell? He would love to make her happy, shower her with gifts, and never have her worry about money again. Yet, caution prevailed. In the past, he’d made the mistake of trusting a woman only to discover her loyalty centered on his money. Would Lauren be the same or remain the level-headed, down-to-earth woman who captured his heart? Time would give him an answer, so he mustn’t blow his identity too soon. He picked up his pen and scribbled a response on the first letter.

  A knock sounded on the door.

  Without waiting for his reply, Jan popped her frizzy mop through the opening. “Hi. Got a minute?”

  “Jan, come in!” He threw his pen on the desk. “What brings you here?”

  “Oh, you know, I was in the neighborhood.”

  His office building was a far cry from her apartment and school, but he let the comment pass. Whenever Jan visited—which wasn’t often—she usually bounced into the office full of youthful vigor, but not today. She entered with a hesitant step while clutching a large canvas purse to her chest. Since a frown wrinkled her forehead, he glanced at her gladiator sandals just to see if the laces were too tight. “Have a seat.”