Joel’s face flashed in her mind again. She had promised.
“I’m sorry, but no. That information isn’t for sale.” She didn’t ask the thousand other questions running through her mind, like why would they offer so much? How had they even known she was with Joel? How had they known how to find her?
She shook her head. “Is that all you needed?”
Ian looked upset. “Are you sure? My boss will be upset if I can’t get that information. I can offer a bit more, if that will help.”
She stood up, afraid of her own thoughts. It was so much money… “No. I’m sorry. Why don’t you contact Mr. Cortran himself? Make an appointment?”
Ian looked away. “Maybe. Sorry to have taken up your time.”
She felt bad for the guy, and even worse to be letting that much money just walk away, but she had made a promise
To a stranger.
He’s not exactly a stranger.
Yes he is. You think he cares about you at all?
Not really, but a promise is a promise. Get over it.
You need a new car.
I need a new car. A new life. A new plan. So what? Selling out Joel is off the table.
No. It would be lying, it would be small and mean, and it would make her feel horrible.
Joel probably had reporters hounding him constantly, and she felt oddly proud of helping to protect him, even just a little. Even if he would probably never know.
She was suddenly exhausted, too tired to even yell at the men behind the closed doors across the landing. She walked back to her desk and sat down, then just put her head on her arms. She would deal with them tomorrow.
She knew one thing, though. She couldn’t sit here for another minute. She got up, stuck her head into Mr. Bailey’s office without knocking, and said, “I’m sick, and going home for the day. Tell Mr. Blake to have Chelsea find the files he needs.”
Marcus Bailey looked up, blinked at her through his thick glasses, and waved. “Oh, OK. See ya tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” she muttered, and closed the door hard.
***
A soft knock on his office door brought Joel’s head up out of the spreadsheets he was studying. It had been a long day already, and it wasn’t even eleven o’clock. He had signed off on the permits for the new factory in Pennsylvania, checked the accounting figures for this quarter, and now he was in the middle of figuring out how to restructure management tiers without firing anyone.
His office, normally a comforting place for him, was starting to feel claustrophobic. He reminded himself that he always got that way when he was about to make an important decision, regardless of where he was.
A happy sight greeted him from the doorway, though. “Miffy!”
He got up and swung around the desk to hug his grinning ex-secretary. She was so little that he was afraid he would accidentally crush her, and her springy gray curls tickled his face as he bent down to kiss her cheek. She smelled like lavender. “How are you? How is retirement?”
“I’m bored out of my mind!” Miffy stomped a tiny, Nike-clad foot. “This screw-brained idea isn’t going to work. I keep telling Harry that, but he won’t listen. Do you miss me yet?”
Joel laughed. “Every day, Miff. Every day.”
She glanced past him to the stack of papers on his desk. The highest one was almost as tall as her. “You need to hire someone.”
“I’m holding out for you to leave Harry and come back to me,” he joked, but squeezed her delicate shoulders one more time before letting go. He had kept Miffy on when he had taken his father’s place, so she had been personal secretary to two of the three generations of Cortran men. She had also saved his behind more than once with her vast knowledge of the business, and proved herself invaluable time and time again while dealing with particularly testy associates. Just as she did with him, she made them feel like they were being scrutinized by their grandmother.
“Well, you know I’ll never leave that old codger, but I’d love for you to take me to lunch,” she said, grinning up at him. “It will feel scandalous!”
“My pleasure,” Joel said, laughing, and reached over the desk for his jacket. “Where would you like to eat?”
She waved a hand. “Oh, you choose. I choose anywhere that’s not my house.” She lowered her voice. “It feels like the walls are closing in sometimes!”
He laughed and shook his head. Just as he reached for the door, it opened, and Ian stuck his head in. “It’s a go, boss. Oh, hey Miffy! Didn’t know you were here.”
She gave him a wave, but didn’t interrupt their conversation.
“Really? That’s great news, Ian. I really wasn’t sure this time.”
“Nope. She didn’t even hesitate. You got a keeper.”
“Thanks, Ian.” Joel felt a massive amount of relief for some reason, far out of proportion to the situation. “Want to join us for lunch?”
“No thanks. I’m meeting Kat.”
“Tell her hi, and tell her I’ll be at the wedding.”
“Got it. See you later, boss.”
As they stepped out into the hall, Miffy looked up at him. “A keeper, huh? What was that about?”
“Company secrets,” he said. “You aren’t an employee, so if I told you I would have to…”
She didn’t let him finish. “Kill me? Ha! Harry hasn’t killed me yet, and he’s a bigger handful than you.”
“OK, then. I met someone this morning that might just be good enough to fill your legendary shoes.” He ushered her onto the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor.
“So you had Ian check her out?”
“Yep, and apparently she’s trustworthy.”
Miffy stopped in her tracks just inside the main doors and squinted as she searched his face. Then she smiled. “What’s her name, Joel?”
“Lia. Lia Davies. She lives in my building.”
“Hm.”
“What?”
“I know that look.”
“What look?”
She grinned. “The same look your grand-dad got on his face when he met your grandmother. She applied for my job, first, you know.”
Joel shook his head. “I know. Quit trying to play cupid, Miff. I just met the girl.”
Miffy just laughed and asked where they were going for lunch.
***
Lia walked home, but regretted it by the time she got there. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, and she felt the need to burn off the tension that was crippling her thoughts. Besides, she had walked home from work before – just not in the middle of a summer day. On the way, she played a game of What if… What if she had taken the money? She would be set for a little while. On the other hand, she would lose both her self-respect and any chance at a friendship – or more – with Joel.
She was thirsty and sticky by the time she got there and she headed straight for the shower and then stretched out in bed, feeling deliciously decadent to be taking a nap in the middle of the day.
Just as her head hit the pillow, she had another thought. Should she contact Joel? To make sure that he knew to watch out? If reporters were stalking her, she’d want to know. Then again, reporters were probably always stalking him.
You just want to talk to him again.
No – this might be important.
Hahaha.
Seriously.
It’s a good excuse, anyway. Go for it.
No… Well, maybe. Would it seem too forward?
More forward than letting him give you a bath, like he did in the elevator this morning?
That thought made her shiver.
See? You just want to talk to him again.
So?
Have you seen the women in the tabloids? The ones draped over him like extra jackets?
You’re right. I don’t fit that particular mold.
She sighed, gave up on the idea of calling him, punched her nice cool pillow, and tried to fall asleep.
Fifteen minutes later she was wide
awake and mad at her brain. She needed it to shut off now, but instead it kept showing her pictures: Chelsea sneaking out, that flash of pay stub, Joel’s face when he smiled at her this morning and asked her to keep his number a secret. Her emotions were a roller coaster at the moment, and she didn’t know how to make it stop. Maybe if she ate something…
Scuffing to the kitchen in her socks, she found what she was looking for – cookies. She poured a glass of milk, sat at the tiny kitchen table, and tried to figure out what to do.
First of all, she determined, he was going to ask the B-boys for a raise. It would probably end in a fight, and maybe unemployment for her, but she was going to ask. She owed it to herself.
Second, she was going to run into Joel again soon, and this time she would not talk to herself in his presence. Also, she would try to be filth-free.
Which brought her to her car. She needed to get it fixed, but winced at the thought of using her credit card to pay the bill. Still, she couldn’t very well carry a car battery home on the bus, so someone would have to bring it here.
Suddenly, she missed Gram terribly. The old woman was funny and smart, and she always managed to solve Lia’s problems and make her feel better at the same time. If she were here now, what would she say?
Lia had no idea. That little mind trick never worked for her. Suddenly feeling sluggish and fat, she tossed the last of the cookies in the trash can.
She found the number of the guy she had used before, and asked him to come and put a battery in her car, dreading the bill but refusing to walk anymore. He promised to come by as soon as he could.
With that done, she looked around the apartment, wondering if there was any food in the house that could become a grown-up meal. She doubted it, but rummaged around anyway.
You always do this, you know.
Do what? Eat?
Well, no. You always try to overhaul your whole life at once. You get dissatisfied about something and decide to change everything.
So?
It’s not really healthy. You’ll fail – you always do – and then you’ll be miserable for weeks.
How do you know I’ll fail?
It’s too much. The job, the car, the apartment. You need to slow down and change one thing at a time.
I can’t. What if I see Joel again?
What if you do?
I would like to seem a little more in control than I did this morning.
Good luck with that.
She sighed and went to wait for the battery guy.
Twenty minutes later, when the stupid elevator finally got to the garage level, he was just pulling in in his big yellow truck.
Five minutes after that, she was staring at him with her mouth open as he told her, “Lady, there’s nothing wrong with your battery. It has a brand new one, in fact. See if it starts.”
She did, and it started just fine. The little Jetta hummed along perfectly, as if it hadn’t betrayed her less than eight hours ago. It ran a lot more quietly, too, for some reason. A battery didn’t fix that.
Weird.
She shut down the car, paid the man, and turned toward the elevator, just in time to see Joel’s limo pull into the garage, moving slowly so it didn’t drag on the curb. She paused.
Did she dare wait, so that she could talk to him again? Or did that look too desperate? She stood there, not sure.
A few minutes later, she found out that it didn’t matter – he wasn’t in the car. Of course, he wouldn’t be – he would have been dropped off at the main entrance. She headed for the elevator, not sure if she should be disappointed or relieved.
As the elevator began its slow hum back to her apartment, she looked in the mirrors again and sent a thankful prayer skyward that she hadn’t seen him, after all. Surveying herself, she wrinkled her nose at the baggy pajama pants and t-shirt that she’s thrown on. She looked like an under-dressed bag lady. Her hair, which usually fell straight to her shoulder blades, was kinked from lying on it while it was still damp, and without make-up, she looked pale and sickly.
Also, there were cookie crumbs on her t-shirt, which she eyed guiltily before swiping them away.
Just as she finished taking this grumpy inventory, the elevator chimed.
Joel stepped on and looked at her, cocking his head sideways a little.
She wanted to drop through the floor. Again. Instead, she said, “Hi,” and gave him an innocent little wave, knowing now that she looked like a psychopath. Beside his tall, commanding form, she felt frumpy and plain.
He turned to meet her eyes, and she felt that shiver again. “Hey, there. How are you doing? Is your car all fixed?”
Her head shot up. “You did it?”
He smiled.
“Thank God. I thought I was losing my mind! Thank you so much.”
“Why did you think you were, uh, losing your mind?”
“Because it was broken, but then it wasn’t. The tow truck guy must have thought I was lying.”
They both laughed.
She looked at him for a second, then made a decision. “A guy came to see me at work today. He said that he was a reporter for the Post, and he wanted to buy your personal phone number from me.”
He grew very still, and a shadow flitted across his features.
She hurried to add, “I didn’t sell it to him – wouldn’t dream of it. I just thought you should know.”
He didn’t answer her directly. Instead, he said, “Can you come up to my penthouse for a moment? There is something I’d like to discuss with you.”
She could have kicked herself for not dressing up, even just to go to the parking garage.
“Yeah, sure. I guess.”
What did he want? Was he going to grill her about the reporter? She hoped not, because she didn’t know much. Was he going to demand payment for fixing her car? She would pay it, but she hoped he would wait until payday.
Then she remembered that this payday might be her last payday from Bailey & Blake. The elevator chimed its musical little song to let her know that they had arrived.
The elevator doors slid open to reveal the most beautiful room she had ever seen, lit by a wall of windows she hadn’t even noticed before. White carpet, white sheers, white furniture – it all looked so clean and so perfect – not like her apartment. It couldn’t be true, but the living room alone looked like it was the size of a football field.
Not that she really knew what size a football field was, exactly.
“Please – come in and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
She padded across the carpet in her dirty sneakers, wishing that she could start the afternoon over. If only she had worn a cocktail dress to the parking garage, she would feel a lot better right now. She sat carefully on the edge of the sofa, just in case she had somehow gotten more grease on her.
When he saw that she was settled, he left the room.
***
It felt good to have Lia here in his environment. Joel knew that the other apartments in the building weren’t as nice as his, and he was almost embarrassed at the opulence surrounding him, but it tickled him that she liked it.
He had only seen her here and there in these last few months, but it hadn’t escaped his attention that he was drawn to her. Something made him want to talk to her every time he saw her, even though he didn’t act on it, mostly because he was usually focused on business and couldn’t come up with an excuse on the spot. It was something he needed to work on, this inattention to social situations.
He was excited by her proximity, and showered quickly in the glass master bathroom. The hot water felt good against his skin, and as he scrubbed an unexpected picture flashed through his mind:
Lia was with him, her body slippery against his in the spray. She was washing his skin, slowly, just as he washed hers, touching every part of her deliciously soft body and enjoying her soft gasps as he touched there, and here, and there…
He groaned, and felt himself grow hard. Calm down, man. You d
on’t even know this woman. He wanted to, though, more than anything. Every inch of her.
He imagined her skin turning pink in the heat of the shower, along with his own. He imagined the smell of peaches that always seemed to be where she was, and her long silky hair swinging forward as she put her head on his chest. He imagined her breath against his skin, and then her lips, and then all of her…
He took a deep breath, rinsed quickly, and turned on the cold water for a minute before stepping out and finding a towel.
In his bedroom, he stopped to take in the sun. It was beginning to dip toward the horizon, and another day would be gone soon. What had he spent it on?
It was a question he asked himself every evening. Of course, there were always work-related accomplishments, but this question was for him, personally. What had he done to make his own life better? Happier? What had he done to help someone else today?
If Lia said yes to his proposal, he would have a positive answer for every one of those questions.
His heart grew warm at the thought of her sitting out there in his living room, taking in the view. She deserved a view like this, and maybe after they talked, she could have one.
Maybe, eventually, she can share yours.
Slow down, cowboy.
You know you’d like that.
Maybe. I need to get to know her better.
No you don’t. You know what you want.
She has to want me, too, idiot.
He remembered what Miffy had said about his grandparents, and wondered if it could be that easy. He wondered if Lia would work for him, if their long days would grow into long nights, if she could ever come to see him in that light.
He shook his head, pulled on some clothes, and grinned at himself in the mirror before heading back out to Lia. He didn’t know anyone else who argued with themselves the way he did. It was fun.
***
Lia wanted this view. And this apartment. It was beautiful, and she marveled at the city skyline stretched out before her. She hadn’t even known that the city was this big.
Star-Crossed Curves: BBW Erotic Romance Boxed Set Page 8