by Susan Craig
Only one way to find out. Diana picked up the box with its few oddments. Closing the door behind her, she left her keys on Mildred’s desk, and walked out of the building. The Lexus waited in her parking spot—his spot now. She set the box on the passenger seat, gave the faded brick building a long, lingering look, and drove away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Eight days later, as the early morning sun splashed the trees along the ridge with a golden glow, Diana policed the runs at Man’s Best Friend after taking the dogs out to the paddocks. She’d come in early because she was restless—had been restless all week—with too much time and not enough to fill it. The work, the cool morning air, and the fresh scent of the grassy fields always helped to center her. She needed that more today than usual. Since turning over the company to Logan Carmichael, she felt unfocused—unsure what the next weeks would bring.
For years her parents had dictated one goal after another. Even after their deaths, she continued to move from goal to goal, piling up one achievement after another, always moving forward. It was comfortable to have a plan to follow, but right now she was drifting—and it was unsettling. The white noise of water rushing from the hose filled her brain, granting a temporary reprieve from her thoughts. As she began to relax, a movement caught her peripheral vision, and she turned to look across the meadow, lifting a hand to block the rays of the sun. She spotted a tall, slim figure cutting across the field next to the shelter.
Sally caught sight of her. “Hey, Diana!” She broke into a trot. “We missed you last weekend. What happened?”
Diana turned off the hose. “I needed some time for myself.”
“Problems at work?”
“Not exactly.” Maybe talking would help. “Sally, do you remember Logan Carmichael? He was here two weekends ago—he adopted Spud.”
“You bet I do! He’s the engineer you were talking about that morning, isn’t he?” Sally swung the gate to the enclosure open and came inside.
“He is. How did you know?”
“I saw the way you ran out of here after talking to him. I figured he might be someone from work trespassing on your personal life.” Sally grinned. “Besides, I had to interview him before I let him adopt Spud, didn’t I?”
Diana nodded. “What do you think of him?”
“I think your description fell way short of reality. He’s a hunk. Why?”
“I turned the company over to him last week.”
“Well, you said before that you might.” She leaned a shoulder against one of the poles supporting the chain link fence, and pushed her hands into the pockets of her jeans.
“Yes, but there’s more. I went to dinner with him again, after we met that next Monday.”
Sally’s eyebrows shot up and she grinned. “Way to go, girl!”
Diana laughed. “It’s not like that. He thinks of me as a friend.”
“Oh, really?” Sally tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow. “He looked pretty interested, talking to you at the dog run the day he got Spud.”
“What were you doing, spying on me?” Diana smiled and began to coil the bulky hose.
“When I saw him making a beeline for you? You bet I was! Have you kissed him?” Sally grabbed the scooper and bag, following Diana toward the shelter.
“Sally!” From the first day they met, as freshmen college roommates, Sally’s openness had clashed with the restraint Diana’s parents cultivated. Diana had never quite gotten used to it. “Um, yes, I have…or rather he’s kissed me.” Diana’s voice drifted off as she hung the hose in place on the outer wall, remembering the kiss…
“Diana, is something wrong?”
“Probably not…I don’t know.” Was it just her? Or was it him? “Maybe.”
“Are you falling for this guy?” Sally hung up the scooper and tossed the bag into the trash bin.
“No. Absolutely not. I barely know him.” It was her. She had cried for no reason. “But Sally, I think something strange is going on with me…” She pressed her back against the solid wall of the building and dropped her gaze. Talking to Sally would help, it was just hard, sometimes, to admit things. “We went to dinner, he kissed me goodnight afterwards and I practically melted, and then…I cried.”
Sally put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “What did he do?”
Diana smiled. Of course, Sally would instantly assign the blame to Logan. She was a staunch friend. Diana shook her head. “Nothing. And he doesn’t know I cried. I got into my car and away before the floodgates opened.”
“Why did you cry, then?”
“That’s what bothers me—I’m not sure. I just felt so sad all of a sudden. So lonely. It’s been bugging me ever since.”
“Oh, honey.” Sally leaned against the wall herself, and threw an arm around Diana’s shoulders. “You probably deserved a good cry. Can I tell you what I think?”
Diana shrugged and nodded.
“You’ve been working your tail off to impress your daddy ever since I’ve known you. Studying day and night, never dating, then working like a slave for the company.”
Diana opened her mouth to protest, but Sally waved a hand, forestalling her.
“Oh, you dated that jerk William who was more interested in the company than in you, but since then it’s been all business. Then your dad died, but it seems to me, you went on trying to please him—throwing yourself into bringing the company back out of its downhill slide. Now you’ve done that, and you’ve decided to sell—and all of a sudden, there’s nothing you can do to impress Daddy anymore.
“I don’t think you were crying because Logan Carmichael kissed you, honey, I think you cried for you. For all the things you set aside, for all the years it’s cost you. Because you finally figured out that it doesn’t matter to Daddy anymore. And you’ve never done or had anything that was just for you. Here you are, thirty years old, and you feel like it’s all over—you’ve got nothing left.”
Diana’s face started to crumple and she bit her lip to stop the sobs from coming. Tears ran down her cheeks, regardless.
“Going inside,” she said in a strangled voice.
“Oh, honey…”
Diana didn’t wait to hear the rest.
Twenty minutes later, a knock sounded on the door of the back office. Sally's voice came through. "Diana? Can I come in?"
Diana nodded and sniffed. “Yeah, sure. Come on in.” She didn’t meet Sally’s eyes, but saw her friend take in her slumped posture, the elbow propped on the battered desk, and the small mountain of crumpled tissues sitting next to a nearly empty box. I ought to sit up. No… she didn’t have the energy.
“You okay?” The affection in Sally’s voice eased away the last of the knots in Diana’s stomach.
“Yeah…yes. I’m better now.” She pushed herself upright. “I’m a lot better now. Thanks, Sally.
Sally’s eyes were soft with concern. “I love you, lady—you know that, don’t you?”
Diana smiled and nodded. “Yes, I know that. I love you too. You know me too well, but I guess I can live with that.”
“What are you going to do next?”
“Well,” Diana wiped her eyes and blew her nose one last time. “You weren’t quite right. I don’t have ‘nothing’ left, you know. I have this shelter. I have my best friend, and…” She looked at Sally with determination in her eyes. “I have me.”
“And enough cash to take your own sweet time figuring out a plan,” added Sally.
“True.” Diana pulled up a smile. “That does help. I’m going to take stock. Get reacquainted with myself. Then we’ll see what comes up.” She snorted quietly. “Besides, Friday I meet with the new CEO of Lennox Incorporated to see how things are going, and to offer him any help he needs—though I don’t expect he’ll want any.” She straightened her shoulders and stood up. “I’m going home now. I want to sort out some stuff at the condo. Tell Cocoa he’ll have to wait until next time for his run.”
“I’ll do that. Take care, Diana.”
; “Right.” Giving Sally a quick hug, Diana left. It was time to build her new life.
Driving back to the condo, she sucked in the fresh morning air. It was amazing, how much better a good cry could make a person feel. Strength and purpose filled her once again. Thoughts, unformed but positive, swirled in her brain. She refused to look too far ahead. First she would deal with her condominium and her wardrobe.
Entering the sterile perfection of her living room, she pulled back the draperies and let the sun stream in. Grabbing the sharp-angled sculpture from the coffee table, she began a discard pile.
By the end of the day, most of the items dear to the heart of her mother’s decorator, every power suit she owned, and quite a bit of tasteful, restrained jewelry had made it into the pile. Still in her worn jeans and T-shirt, Diana marched into Catholic Charities and dropped three neatly packed bags on the donations counter. She beamed as the woman there ran her hand reverently down the lapel of a classic navy blazer. “Can someone give me a hand? I have more in the car.”
A volunteer followed her outside, and together they covered the donations counter and part of the floor with bag upon bag of Diana’s discards.
The label in a suit jacket caught the volunteer’s eye. Touching it, she frowned at Diana. “Are you sure you want to just give all this away? There’s a consignment shop a few blocks from here and—“
Diana smiled so wide her cheeks felt tight. “Believe me, I am absolutely sure.” She hadn’t anticipated the rush of euphoria getting rid of her old life would bring. If only she’d known, she’d have done this a week ago.
The woman behind the counter pressed a receipt on Diana. On her way back to the car, she flicked the slip of paper into a nearby trashcan. Tax deductions be damned. She was starting fresh.
The next day, she window-shopped. Diana had been raised to know and appreciate quality—and she did—but now she was searching for those items that somehow resonated with her true self. Quality? Yes. Conventional? No.
She had a fabulous time all by herself, wandering through pricey decorating boutiques, inexpensive import warehouses, and everywhere in between. She was comfortable with the clean modern lines of her basic furniture pieces, but that didn’t stop her from checking out every antique shop in town.
At day’s end, she relaxed on the patio of her favorite Mexican restaurant, margarita in hand, enjoying a spectacular sunset. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun. She was beginning to understand which items caught her eye, and why. I like quality materials, but I want them in strong, clear colors. Maybe that was the result of a life lived in careful mistake-proof neutrals. Maybe it would change with time. But tomorrow, when she went out to buy, she had a good idea what she would be bringing back home.
Once her home looked less barren, Diana went through much the same process with her wardrobe. She had learned long ago how to hide her curves. Now she turned that around and chose clothing that tastefully celebrated them. Clear, strong colors continued to catch her eye, but so did black, white and silver-grey.
She learned to recognize styles that enhanced her feeling of power and found others drew on a deep well of womanliness that was anything but gender-neutral. And accessories—no more tiny button earrings and demure pearls. She found her taste in jewelry was bold… and expensive.
This was fun, not work—there was no need to rush through it. So she contented herself with a small selection of stunning high quality pieces, and for the first time in her adult life, looked forward to shopping again soon.
Friday morning, Diana stood in her closet, considering her options. Today would be her first meeting with Logan since signing the contracts. She felt like a different person, because she was. Sally had been right about the tears—she had cried for herself. But that was over now. Diana Lennox is moving on.
In the place of her power suits were several soft summer dresses, a curvy silver grey suit in summer-weight wool, a few finely tailored slacks and her silk tops—some old favorites, some new. An old-fashioned lace sachet, bought on impulse, hung alongside the clothes. Waves of sweet scent drifted out every time her hand brushed it. Diana chose a new white silk blouse with a poet ruffle trimming the deep V-neck. This will do nicely. She slipped into the silver-grey suit and slid her feet into black strappy heels. Pulling her hair up, she began to reach for the pins, then paused. Why bother? She left it loose.
After straightening the satin-quilted bed and tossing a snuggly afghan onto the squishy armchair, she picked up her briefcase. At the doorway of the condo she paused, smiling at the sunlight streaming through the windows, the colorful pillows on the sleek white couch and the sprawling philodendron in its blue enameled planter on the coffee table.
It was time to be Diana. It was time to let go of the past and the masks that had gone with it. Sally was right. Her tears had been for herself—for all the time she’d wasted trying to please a man who was gone.
Once she acknowledged that, she’d realized there’d also been something more. Something to do with Logan. As much as she’d discarded this week, she hadn’t been able to discard the feelings he brought out in her. That flash of desire she’d seen in his eyes still caused a powerful response in her every time she envisioned it. She found herself longing for him—and not just for his touch. His warmth, his gentleness—both had been unexpected and had filled, for a bit, the lonely spot in her heart. The childhood stories he’d told to amuse had helped her understand his driving need to succeed.
In ways both large and small, he had lodged himself in her mind and her heart. But was she anything to him? Well, soon she would know.
Logan was entering data from tests he’d run on the new resin, when Diana Lennox strode into his office for their meeting. The sight of her hit him like a Humvee at speed. No trace of the gender-neutral CEO remained, but neither was there any uncertainty. Who was this woman?
Tall, voluptuous and elegant, she moved with an easy, confident stride, her mane of dark hair loose around her shoulders. Gleaming silver rectangles hung from her ears and her left wrist held two inches worth of silver bangles. On her right ring finger was a square cut chunk of smoky quartz surrounded by small diamonds. She walked to the desk and offered her hand.
Logan rose to his feet, his heart pounding with the slow, strong beat of desire. His eyes narrowed. He felt like a jungle cat, riveted on his target, alert to her every move.
As lust slammed through his system, he saw Diana hesitate. Remembering the night at the inn, he banished emotion from his face, making his eyes expressionless and remote.
“Good morning.” He shook her hand. “I have the report ready for you.” Handing her a single sheet of paper, he moved to the newly installed conference table and indicated a chair.
He watched as she read the report, fighting the response his body wanted to make. The only thing that had remained constant, it seemed, was her scent. She still smelled like summer. Then he saw her forehead crease.
“This won’t do.” She tossed the paper back at him. “In fact, it’s insulting. You’re treating my supervision as a joke. There’s not enough detail here for me to evaluate how the company is doing—all you’ve talked about is the progress on converting one line to the new process. I need figures for accounts received, expenditures, and progress toward contract deadlines from the three lines still in operation.”
She was still damn touchy. And still acting like she was his boss. He swallowed the angry retort that leapt to his lips and tried to remain reasonable. “I’ve given you an update on the important items. You’re supposed to be reviewing—overseeing my management—not supervising.” Jaw clenched, he set the sheet aside. “You don’t need to know every little thing.”
“Well, you’re wrong, Dr. Carmichael.” She made the title it had taken him four years to earn sound like an epithet. “If the three lines operating can’t handle the production deadlines, steps will have to be taken immediately to bring them up to speed. If deliveries are delayed by the changeover to your process, i
t will cost our customers money and injure Lennox’s reputation. And that will mean fewer customers for the new rods as well. What did the report from the line boss say about production rates?”
What? “I haven’t seen any report from the line boss.”
“You should have had it yesterday.” She stood up and started to pace in front of the window.
He had to fight to ignore the slight sway of her hips and the way her hair tossed at each turn. The irritating movement made him want to grab her shoulders and hold her still. And kiss her. Dammit, man, focus.
Looking over her shoulder at him, she snapped out an order. “Call Joe and tell him he’s got one hour to have that report on your desk. Make it clear that you are not happy it wasn’t turned in on time—or,” she whirled to face him, “would you like me to do that for you?”
“Hell, no!” He rose to his feet as well. “I want you to stay out of it. I’ll call him as soon as we’re finished.”
“All right.” She resumed her pacing. “You’ll also want Mildred to pull the production deadlines so you can review them. That same file contains my calculation of the production rate required to meet the delivery deadlines for current contracts. The three lines running should be able to handle it without having to go into overtime, but you’ll need to keep tabs on production, just in case I’m wrong.”
Fury was rising inside him. This was his company, not hers, and fifty-one percent be damned. “Is it actually possible for you to be wrong?” His sarcasm blasted out like fire from a flamethrower. “You come in here for a simple report and now you’re barking orders like some kind of—
“Listen, Carmichael,” she interrupted, marching over to stare him in the eye. “When you wanted weekly reports as an alternative to having me here on a daily basis, I agreed because you offered some good reasons for operating this way. But if you can’t come through with substantive information, then I’m going to exercise my option to move in on you full time. Either learn to do it right or I’ll do it for you.”