by Julia Kent
Josh laughs, then swallows, hard. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m not disappearing.”
“But you won’t be here. You and Amanda are this amazing duo. Someone has to huddle with me in the winter to stay warm.”
“Carol’s a big girl like me. You’ll do fine.”
We hug.
My phone buzzes. It’s Declan, outside, in a limo. Josh walks me to the main doors and peers out at my mode of transportation.
“What the hell am I worried about,” he declares. “You’re leaving this place and the Turdmobile to get into that?” A low whistle and a high five ends my visit, and I turn to Declan with my personal belongings in a box, walking away from the very job that made me meet him.
Car tires screech in the parking lot as Amanda arrives. She parks across two spaces and jumps out, running to me. Josh stands in the doorway, gawking.
“Wait! Stop!” Breathless, she leans over and puts her hands on her knees. Declan climbs out of the limo and takes the box from me, a curious look passing between us.
“Mystery shopping emergency? Did someone fail to deliver a drive-thru order in ninety seconds or less?” I joke.
“No.” She’s in tears. “I just didn’t want to miss you before you left.”
“You could just text me,” I say slowly, trying to keep the joke going because if I don’t, I’ll dissolve into a puddle of tears, too. “You didn’t need to pull a Hollywood moment where you rush in and—”
Too late. We’re sobbing. Two strong, masculine arms wrap around me and Amanda and then we hear the whimpering sound of Josh crying, too.
“It’s not going to be the same,” he wails.
Declan unbuttons his suit jacket, crosses his arms, and leans back against the limo. His eyes roll skyward. “It’ll be a few minutes, Gerald,” he says to the driver through the open window.
“That’s right!” Amanda squeaks, flashing indignant eyes at my boyfriend. “You get her for the rest of her life. We only have her for a few more minutes.”
“We’re all going to that tapas bar in Waltham at 7 p.m. tonight, remember?” Declan answers dryly. “If you can suffer through five hours of not seeing Shannon.”
“That’s not the point!” Josh gasps, wiping his eyes. “It’s just the end of an era. You don’t get it.”
Declan nods slowly. “You’re right. I don’t.” He gives me a warm grin and cocks an eyebrow like he’s saying WTF is up with your friends?
“He’s right,” I say to Amanda and Josh, laughing through tears. “It’s not like you’ll never see me again. We’ll have chevre-stuffed pimentoes in a few hours.”
The three of us compose ourselves, give final hugs, and they walk into the building while I climb into the limo with Declan, where he’s sitting, waiting for me.
Arms outstretched and tissues at the ready.
The drive over to Anterdec involves a lot of hitched sobbing and, fortunately, no eyerolling.
“I’m fine! And no, I haven’t officially decided.” For the past week Declan’s been pestering me to just say yes and come work for him.
And for the past week I’ve dug my heels in and told him I hadn’t made a decision.
My terms: a meeting with James to make sure I can tolerate working here.
In Declan’s mind this is a done deal.
In my mind it’s an open case. Nothing is settled. Putting all of my emotional and financial life in the hands of one man is a risk that involves an extraordinary amount of trust, and while we’re back together and it’s clear—so clear—that we’re meant for each other, I’m a pragmatist at heart.
A little OCD, even. Which is great when it comes to managing 34,985 details for marketing campaigns, but not so great when it comes to taking flying leaps of faith and love.
Working for Declan means working for James, and I didn’t exactly leave off on a good note the last time I saw him.
I’m fairly cleaned up and halfway decent by the time the limo pulls in to the Anterdec private garage. Unlike the main entrance, this is a quiet, subterranean section of the parking labyrinth that I would never know existed if it weren’t for Declan.
I say so.
He looks at me, eyebrows crowded, and shrugs. “Isn’t that the point?”
I laugh, the sound like ping pong balls being dropped on a trampoline. “You really have no idea how real people live.”
“Your mom is taking me thrifting, remember? I’ll be sure to have Jeeves scuff my shoes just so and to forget to shave.” His pretend British accent and locked jaw make me laugh harder. Sweat covers my palms, my makeup’s long been cried off or kissed off (I much prefer the latter), and I wonder just how raw I must appear.
An audience of James McCormick in this kind of fragile state is really not appealing.
“Mom will make you dumpster dive if you’re not careful,” I warn him.
Very real horror fills his face. “What?” He looks a bit sick. “I thought that chicken tasted a bit odd when she had us over for dinner last night.”
I punch him. We get out of the limo and board the elevator. “Not food. She goes behind florist shops and card stores and comes home with a mountain of stuff to add to the mountain of stuff in the basement.”
He pauses and reaches for my shoulders, locking eyes on me. “Are your parents okay financially? Do they need—”
I press my index finger against his lips. “The fastest way to wind up dead and decomposing in a 55-gallon drum in Dad’s Man Cave is to offer financial help to my parents.”
He gulps. “Understood. But—dumpster diving?”
“It’s a hobby. Mom does this. Wait three months and she’ll get over it. Last year it was the whole Extreme Couponing thing.”
We ride up a few floors in silence and he turns to me with a look of dawning recognition. “Extreme Couponing. Is that why you have what looks like hundreds of deodorants jammed in the drawers of your bathroom.”
I wink. “You connected the dots.”
“I just thought you were obsessive about not having smelly armpits...”
“She goes crazy on triple coupon day. You should see her stash of sex lube.”
With that the elevator doors open.
And there stands James McCormick, who clearly heard my and Declan’s last words.
“Make her take the job, Dad,” Declan announces, face impassive as he leans over and kisses my cheek. My fingers grope for his arm but he’s slick and eludes my attempt.
“Not if she has smelly armpits,” James jokes. We walk quietly to the private door to his office where he motions toward two enormous wingback chairs pointed toward the windows.
“Please. Sit. Coffee?”
My hands are shaking. Don’t need to add a caffeine injection. “No, thank you.”
He sits next to me and leans forward, forearms on knees, eyes perceptive. “Declan tells me you are hesitating on taking the Assistant Director of Marketing job.”
“Yes.”
“Because of me.” It’s not a question.
Honesty is best here. “Because I don’t want to be too dependent on Declan.”
One eyebrow slowly rises. “Go on.”
“There isn’t any more to it.” I shrug. “It’s that simple. We’re together, and I am concerned about mixing business with...” I frown.
“With life.” He nods, rubbing his hands together slowly.
“Yes.”
“Declan tells me you’re good.” He clears his throat. “With marketing.”
He really didn’t need to elaborate. Now I’m self-conscious.
“And he is willing to take a larger risk than you, Shannon. I think you need to take that into consideration.” There’s a hard edge to his voice, but it’s encased in a velvet tongue.
“What?”
“Not in business. But in choosing to love you. To stay with you. To—perhaps—build a life with you.”
Love.
“I’m not in a pity relationship,” I answer bluntly. “He�
�s not offering me a relationship, or a job, because—”
“That is evident.” James McCormick doesn’t listen to extraneous words. “My point is that Declan, who has one of the smartest, most rational minds I know, has decided that giving his heart to you is worth the risk that you may not be around to share it.”
A cold rush pours through me.
“What does that—”
“While you dither and pretend you don’t know whether to take the job, Declan is living his choice every day. He’s taken a much bigger risk already than you would take if you accept the job at Anterdec.”
I just blink.
“Take the job, Shannon. Worry about what-if later. You can’t spend your life worrying that the devil you don’t know might turn bad when the devil you do know already is. Unemployment doesn’t suit you.”
No. it didn’t. I’ve gotten so bored this week that Chuckles now has painted toenails and you can eat off my dad’s Man Cave floor.
“Why are you urging me to do it? Take the job?”
“You make Declan happy.”
“Nope. Not enough.”
“Because you’re Marie’s daughter and it feels like karma.”
“Still not enough.”
He sighs. “Because of all the women Declan has dated, you are the first one I’ve met who is remotely interesting. And challenging. I don’t surround myself with yes men and I’d prefer not to be surrounded by yes daughters-in-law.”
Daughter in law.
“Therefore, I ask you to take some time to decide, and—”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
“That was fast.”
“When you know, you know.”
James looks over my shoulder and I follow his gaze. He’s looking at a picture of his late wife. She’s on the beach with all three boys; I’m guessing Declan is about twelve in the photo, braces on his teeth and a layer of baby fat in his face that says the long stretch of puberty hasn’t hit yet.
It’s a happy photo. A joyous one, even.
“Yes, Shannon. When you know, you know.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I spend the next few hours in Human Resources, kept busy on an assembly line of managers and coordinators, never once seeing Declan. The Associate Director for HR gave me my salary proposal, benefits information, and when my eyes bugged out of my head at the salary, she was polite enough not to tell me to shove them back in my head.
We’re taught in business classes to negotiate. Always. But when someone offers you more than twice your old salary and a benefits package valued at nearly a year’s pay—you just say thank you profusely. I’m sure Steve would argue the opposite, but Steve can go suck a box of rocks.
My phone buzzes in the middle of signing paperwork. Mom. I keep it to text.
You okay? She texts. Need a chocolate intervention?
Nope. Signing my new hire paperwork at Anterdec.
The phone rings. “You’re coming to my yoga class on Saturday still, right? And bringing Declan.”
“You cannot use him to sell more spots in your class, Mom. He’s not a side show like a sword swallower or The Bearded Woman.”
She makes a tsking sound. “We already have that! And Corrine is trying to get it under control with electrolysis, so stop making jokes about her.”
“I wasn’t!” The HR coordinator who is explaining my health insurance package comes back with her photocopies. “I have to go.”
“Congratulations, honey! What’s your salary?” The coordinator takes my empty coffee mug and motions, asking if I want more. I nod yes.
“Shannon?”
I tell Mom my salary.
“You make more than Jason!” she squeals.
“Will he feel emasculated?” I ask, worried.
“Pffft. If that man can stay married to me for nearly thirty years, he can handle this. Your father doesn’t do emasculation. Well, not in public, anyhow.”
“Mom,” I growl.
“Fine, fine. I’ll make a celebratory dinner tonight! Bring Declan over! We’ll play Cards Against Humanity and I’ll break out the new candles I found in the dumpster.”
“Living it up!”
“I’m so proud of you, Shannon.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
The HR person comes back in and after two more hours, I have a photo ID, a start date, and a raging case of missing Declan.
Bzzzz.
Meet me where the limo is, he texts.
The receptionist guides me to the right elevator and I ride it down, completely drained. A happy kind of drain. The kind of exhaustion you feel when your entire paradigm about how to live your life has changed.
The elevator doors open and there’s Declan, holding two epipens and a dozen long-stemmed chocolate covered strawberries (a mix of dark and milk, of course) in his arms.
And he’s wearing a grin that makes my heart do jumping jacks.
“Do you, Shannon Jacoby, promise to be my Assistant Director of Marketing so long as your stock options may vest?”
“I do.”
He kisses me with a freedom and abandon that makes the world disappear.
And I swear, somewhere, my mother is banging a spoon against a wine glass, finger ready to dial Farmington Country Club to reserve a date in 2016.
Someone get Steve’s mom some smelling salts. And a dose for him, too.
THE END
Other Books by Julia Kent
Suggested Reading Order
Her First Billionaire—FREE
Her Second Billionaire
Her Two Billionaires
Her Two Billionaires and a Baby
Her Billionaires: Boxed Set (Parts 1-4 in one bundle, 458 pages!)
It’s Complicated
Complete Abandon (A Her Billionaires novella)
Complete Harmony (A Her Billionaires novella #2)
Random Acts of Crazy
Random Acts of Trust
Random Acts of Fantasy
Random Acts of Hope
“Share Me” in the anthology Spring Fling
Maliciously Obedient
Suspiciously Obedient
Deliciously Obedient (the trilogy is done!)
Shopping for a Billionaire 1
Shopping for a Billionaire 2
Shopping for a Billionaire 3
Shopping for a Billionaire 4
About the Author
Text JKentBooks to 77948 and get a text message on release dates!
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent turned to writing contemporary romance after deciding that life is too short not to have fun. She writes romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult books that push contemporary boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every book she writes, but unlike Trevor from Random Acts of Crazy, she has never kissed a chicken.
She loves to hear from her readers by email at [email protected], on Twitter @jkentauthor, and on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/jkentauthor
Visit her blog at http://jkentauthor.blogspot.com
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Other Books by Julia Kent
About the Author