She blushed, “I should go sir. Susannah is waiting for me.” She grinned sardonically, “She had a full day of mother, and requires a break.”
He grinned and released her hand, “Until tomorrow then.”
She wondered if he had any idea what he was doing to her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The following day Jane absorbed herself in typing correspondence to people who had written Mr. Poole asking for everything from a signed autographed picture to their own jet. She was five letters in when a courier arrived carrying her framed painting of Piazza Navona.
He nodded at the painting, “Where does Mr. Poole want this?”
She arched a brow, “I’m sure I have no idea. Just a moment and I’ll see if I can help you.”
She buzzed Mrs. Fairfax to let her know of the arrival and where Mr. Poole wanted the painting hung. She stood up to better see the painting; it looked so different under the harsh lights. The wall in the background was no longer a warm terra cotta but a bitter yellow. She waited a moment and the answer came in the form of Mr. Poole, opening the door and waving the gentleman in. He watched her reaction, guarded.
She arched a brow, “An interesting selection Mr. Poole.”
He relaxed slightly, a corner of his mouth turning up in humor, “I was fortunate to find it, it appealed to me the most and the others were already sold. The artist is very much in demand.” He tilted his head and bowed slightly in her direction.
She took a step closer, “And I thought, Mr. Poole, with your wishes to master your peasants’ daily life that you would have had first choice the very day I mentioned it.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly, in warning and teased her, “I did not wish to make Ms. Eyre uncomfortable with my attentions.”
She bit her bottom lip, “No, instead you tease her with your verbal tapestries puzzling her for weeks.”
“Careful Ms. Eyre, you wear wicked tongue most attractively.”
She licked her lower lip unconsciously, and sighed tired of his teasing. “I will wear my tongue as I wish, as you are not my master, sir.”
His hand reached up and captured her head, bringing her lips to his mouth. The kiss exploded her senses, shattering all of reality around her and focusing her attention to only him, his scent, his warmth, his feel, the weight of his body against hers as he pulled her closer devouring her. She responded keenly, wrapping her hands around his arms to strengthen his embrace.
He pulled back slowly, “I do find your wicked tongue most delicious, Ms. Eyre and it seems I have found a way to master at least your tongue under my control.” He grinned at her wolfishly.
She released him, stepped back a half step, and let her hand trace her bottom lip. She grinned, embarrassed by her reaction and unwilling to deny her attraction, “Yes sir, I believe you have.”
Her eyes flicked over to the doorway, where Mrs. Fairfax looked at the two of them sternly. “The gentleman would like to know where you would like it hung.”
“Yes, of course.” He winked at Jane and left. She looked up at Mrs. Fairfax, her cheeks blooming with her embarrassment and Mrs. Fairfax simply shook her head and grinned, leaving Jane alone in her elation.
Jane sat back, reeling with the river of emotions flowing through her. He kissed Ms. Eyre, not you Jane, her brain warned her gently. She was unable to think straight, the computer screen blurred her senses dulled and useless.
She leaned her head into the office and whispered to Mrs. Fairfax, “Is it alright if I leave early?”
Fairfax grinned, “A hit and run then? Of course. That should drive him nuts, though” she warned.
Jane waved her hand dismissively, “He’ll be fine. Tell him I was unable to find my tongue and therefore useless at reception. I have gone home to find a spare.”
Mrs. Fairfax laughed as Jane left. Mr. Poole stuck his head out and looked at her questioningly to which she responded tartly, “Oh, don’t even play innocent, I know you heard her.”
He grinned as he filtered through the mail at her desk.
His fingers stopped for a moment, a simple white parchment card with a hand written note from Jane. The script was beautiful, written in ink, but it looked like calligraphy. Thank you for the beautiful arrangement and your kind thoughts. They are much appreciated. Sincerely yours, Jane Eyre.
His eyes flicked up, “I assume I sent flowers?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Fairfax continued her typing ignoring his stare.
“Mrs. Fairfax, how long have you worked for me?” he asked patiently. This was the one woman in the office who never was intimidated by him, until of course, Jane.
She stopped, looked up confused, “Thirteen years.”
“How often have I sent flowers, unawares?” he asked, amused at her expression.
She shrugged, “Probably a few times a month.”
His eyebrows shot up, “I had no idea I was that thoughtful. And for what occasions do I send flowers?”
She relaxed slightly, he was in one of his peculiar moods and she decided to indulge him, “Weddings, births, illnesses and deaths.”
“And for what occasion did Ms. Eyre merit a bouquet?” his tone was still playful and Mrs. Fairfax shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“Her mother’s illness.”
“How is she? Jane said it was nothing,” his voice changed, accusatory.
“She’s out of the hospital; it was a stroke I believe. I didn’t realize you were concerned about her personal life.” She answered quietly.
His voice grave, “I am concerned about all things relating to Ms. Eyre, are we clear?”
She nodded, “Yes sir.”
He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes, “Mrs. Fairfax, how did Ms. Eyre come to be my receptionist?”
“I suggested she apply for the job.” Her eyes were wary now, probably from fear he thought.
He sighed, “I don’t recall ever interviewing her or even reading a CV.”
Mrs. Fairfax sighed softly, “I handled that for you.”
“How often do you handle things for me, Mrs. Fairfax?”
“It’s my job Mr. Poole. I handle the small details, so that you may focus on the things that concern you.”
“She concerns me.”
Mrs. Fairfax leaned back, “I see that. I’m sorry if I overstepped boundaries.”
He sat on the corner of her desk and seemed to deflate, “No, I’m the one overstepping. She’s very young.”
Mrs. Fairfax said quietly, “She was born old.”
Surprised he asked, “How long have you known her?”
“She was Maddie and Emily’s babysitter.”
His eyes opened in wonder, “The girl you loved. The girl you called peculiar and left to go to finishing school.”
She smiled, “Yes, I’m surprised you remembered.”
He rolled his eyes, “You concern me too.”
She grinned, “Thank you.”
Tate entered the office and shook Poole’s hand. He handed him a bound folder, with a slick presentation inside. Poole leaned back against the desk and thumbed through it. He knew that Tate could have never put together the text and graphics in the folder, and that this must have been the job Jane referred to that kept her late.
“What do you think of this proposal, Mrs. Fairfax?”
She blinked and paused for just a moment before continuing, “I think you should ask why he feels he needs to outsource production. There’s a company in Michigan that could manufacture your product. While labor costs would be higher, the shipping costs would be lower. It seems it would be beneficial to both the company and your bottom line.”
He chuckled and watched Tate turn green. “So Mr. Tate, what say you to Mrs. Fairfax’s observation?”
Tate shifted, “I can run the numbers if you want, however I believe she’s mistaken about the cost benefit.”
She spoke up, “Oh, this wasn’t my observation, it was Ms. Austen’s. I believe she emailed you regarding this already though, didn’t she?”
Her glare knocked the easy look from Tate’s face.
Tate waved a hand, “I read it briefly.” He looked at Poole, “Do you seriously want me to consider the whim of the receptionist?”
“Yes.” His voice was acid, and Tate blanched, turned on his heel and left.
Poole got up and arched an eyebrow at Mrs. Fairfax. “Would you have told me about her suggestion?”
She shook her head, “No. It’s highly inappropriate for her to make such a suggestion, and I wouldn’t encourage it.” He considered that for a moment, and she added, “However, since you are concerned about her I feel you should know that she would never have brought this up with you. She did contact Tate who ignored her. It didn’t bother her, because in the end she knew it wasn’t her place as your receptionist to make recommendations.”
“And when did she tell you all this?” he asked drily.
“We’ve spent time together; she’s been tutoring me, helping me get up-to-date on MS Office.”
His brows furrowed, “How is she then, I mean about her mother’s illness?”
Mrs. Fairfax shook her head sadly, “Jane is one of the sweetest, kindest people I know. She dotes on her mother to an extreme. Jane does everything she can to make her mother happy.”
“Is there anything she needs?” he asked.
Mrs. Fairfax held his gaze, “I think her stepbrother Richard is a real piece of work. If he tried to institutionalize Mrs. Austen it will kill her and Jane. I’m not sure what legal rights Jane has in her mother’s care, as he is the eldest. She may need help if Richard gets involved.”
He stood up, “Call Clayton, tell him I want to see him Monday morning at eight. I’ll have Jane sit down with him.”
“I doubt that will be necessary, she has a lawyer. You sent white roses to the hospital, by the way.”
He smiled warmly, “Thanks Fairfax, thank you very much.” He leaned down and quickly kissed her cheek and was out the door before he heard her squeak in surprise.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Patrick and Ben greeted Jane at her house early Saturday afternoon. She was working on Tessa’s photographs, and uploading them for Missy to approve. Ben sat down with her mother; he brought Indian Food and a Scrabble board.
“Good evening Mrs. Austen, I have brought your repast and a pastime. I hope that you indulge me.” He took her hand and kissed it, settling down on the floor in front of her chair and pulling the table over.
She laughed, “I’m honored to have your company Benjamin.”
Jane ran upstairs to change while her laptop chugged away. Patrick knocked gently on the door before entering; his suit bag was slung over his wide shoulder.
“Thanks for going with me tonight Jane. Have you chosen a dress?”
She glanced at her closet, “I know you want to dress me, just go pick one out already.”
“Sweet!” He flicked through her closets, “It’s black and white tonight. Do you have a preference?”
She sat down at her vanity, brushing her hair, pulling it back. “Not the silver, I’m saving that for New Year’s.”
He unzipped a bag and breathed out, “Jesus, did you paint this?”
Her eyes flicked toward him, “Yeah, I don’t know if it fits.” She stood up walking over toward him, “I’ll try it on, and I made a matching cummerbund.”
He pulled the dress out and laid it on the bed, when he pulled it out he sniffed, “Ugh, when was the last time you aired this out?”
“A couple of years, I think that’s the fabric paint. We can throw it in the dryer with a couple of dryer sheets.” She pulled off her jeans and top and leaned over the bed, unzipping the dress.
He gawked at her and she rolled her eyes, “Oh shut up and zip me.”
“You know it’s emasculating to strip like that in front of me, as if I’m not a threat.”
“You are not a threat Patrick, and you’ve seen it all before. Will it zip?”
The dress was another in her Edith Head/Escher love child collection. Although Edith Head designed the costumes for Funny Face, the dress was actually designed by Givenchy. The red dress Audrey Hepburn wore; strapless, fitted, long, with a slit in the back hidden by a train. Jane had made the dress out of black fabric, and had painted the Escher’s design Sky and Water in silver. In some lights the dress appeared to have a lace pattern on it, but when the light hit it just right, the fish appeared, leaving the birds in black behind.
He pulled it up, “it’s a little tight up top, did you grow boobs babe?”
“Unhook my bra, maybe I can get away with squishing them in.”
He complied, and she readjusted herself and he easily zipped it up. “Jane, this is so cool! Check yourself out.”
She looked; the dress had fit looser on her two years ago. She turned around, “Oh my God, my ass looks huge!” Silver fish swimming across her butt mocked those few pounds she had gained since moving home.
Patrick grunted, “Your ass looks amazing. You have to wear this.” He looked skeptical, “If we can get rid of that smell.”
She turned around, “Ok, unzip me please.” She held the dress up in front and stared at him.
“Uh, I’m not a threat,” he smirked.
She held the dress in place, grabbed her shirt and pulled it on before releasing the dress. She pulled her jeans on and took the dress, wrap, and cummerbund to the laundry room. She put the clothes in her Dryel bag added six Bounce sheets and turned the dryer on warm for thirty minutes.
She poured some wine and handed them around, ignoring Ben’s stare at her chest. Her mother was talking on the phone with a neighbor, and Ben motioned for them to go into the kitchen.
“I researched Poole this week.” Ben said as he leaned against the kitchen counter.
Jane sighed and sat down at the kitchen table, facing him. “Do I want to know?”
Ben nodded, “First, he never slept with that Julia chick, and she really bitched about that. She’s now doing an eye doctor.” Ben sipped his wine and looked over at Patrick, “He also dated Tatiana Schroeder.”
Patrick whistled, “When was that?”
“About a year and a half ago.” Ben looked at Jane, “I don’t know if he slept with her, but given that we know her, it’s probable.”
Jane swallowed, “What do you mean, know her?”
Patrick looked apologetic but Ben just grinned, “She’s a beautiful woman Jane, and very curious.” He winked, “And a whole lot of fun.”
Jane rolled her eyes, “I see.”
Patrick spoke up, “She’s also very discreet.”
Jane puzzled over their comments and then narrowed her eyes, “Where does Ms. Schroeder work?”
Ben grinned and said innocently, “She’s a private contractor.”
“And he dated her?” Jane said shocked.
Ben nodded, “They were seen together on a few occasions. The thing is Janie; she specializes in a sort of play.”
Jane put her fingers in her ears and started singing, “La-la-la,” she didn’t want to know.
Ben held up his hands in defense, “Ok, no more.”
She removed her fingers and sighed. “What do I need to know?”
Ben shrugged, “He could be kinky. He likes you, though. He hasn’t dated anyone since his wife died, well, unless you count Tatiana, but I doubt those were dates.”
“Enough, Ben.” Jane drank the rest of her wine, unable to sort out the kind of man Grayson Poole really was. She looked at Patrick, “And why did you two know this woman?”
Patrick looked to Ben to explain. Ben chuckled and kissed Jane’s cheek, whispering, “We wanted to have a threesome and you refused us. What’s a guy to do?”
“Men are pigs, you know that right?” She muttered.
Ben smiled, and lifted both eyebrows. “Another thing I learned is about his wife Elizabeth. They were married about three years; she died of preeclampsia in their bed at home. He sold the house; it was in Hillsborough, completely furnished and bought the house in the City.”
He looked at Jane, “He made a ton of money out of it too, sold it to some rich Japanese guy.”
She heard her mother call out, and Ben topped off his wine and went back to the front room. Jane pulled the clothes from the dryer and carefully hung them over her arm.
Patrick nudged her up the stairs, “Ok, hair and makeup time.”
“You’re not doing my hair and makeup.”
“No, I just like to watch.” He sat on the bed, watching her work her hair into a complicated updo. “I don’t think I like Gray Poole.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve seen him with you, and you consider him a threat,” he said it evenly.
“You’re pouting because I trust you to not take advantage of me?”
He raised an eyebrow, “I’m not pouting. Do you think he would take advantage of you?”
“Before I throw myself panting at his feet, begging him to take me? Nah.”
“Do tell Jane. What are you blushing about now?”
She recounted the kiss, the hit and run as Fairfax put it, and Patrick grinned. “I’m surprised, he seems so reserved.”
“Did he punch Ben back?”
Patrick scoffed, “No.”
She shrugged, “So, he took a punch from Ben and didn’t retaliate; spent the day with you glaring at him; bought my painting; complimented my dress; enjoys my sense of humor; and he is kind to my mother. Why don’t you like him again?”
Patrick rolled his eyes, “He is good with your mother. He’s kind of old though, and he’s got a kinky side.”
She sprayed hairspray and began applying foundation. “He’s older, yes. I find him attractive.”
He smirked, “Yes he is, great mouth.”
She clucked her tongue, “Ok, enough of that mister.”
Patrick looked at her carefully, “Jane, doesn’t it bother you that he believes the rumors. I mean, he wouldn’t have asked Ben if it didn’t.”
She felt her cheeks grow red, and she shrugged, turning back around and concentrating on putting on eye makeup.
“I’m sorry Jane.” Patrick said quietly.
She looked at his reflection in the mirror and grinned, “I’m not, and I don’t have any regrets about us.” She sighed, returning to face, “Why is it that all men want a virgin?”
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