Thinking quickly, my cheeks burned at how I could prove it at that particular moment. I lay back in bed slowly without looking over at him, lifting my shirt slightly while lowering the sleep shorts I was in and trying hard not to think about who had changed me out of my wet clothes and dressed me.
“C-section,” I mumbled, not looking at him staring at my scar. I sat back up as I fixed my top, taking a deep breath as I looked back up at him.
“I also have her birth certificate and my identification. Social security cards too if you would like those as well,” I told him, my eyes never looking away.
I couldn’t.
From where I was, his eyes looked dark and intense. His jaw was covered with stubble, making the cleft in his chin somehow more defined. He looked bigger now, sitting in the light-filled room than he had in the darkness and rain last night, but that didn't make me feel nervous or scared. He’d called his friend to make sure I was okay. Even as surly and annoyed as he looked, there was something kind and sweet about him. Something I didn’t think he usually showed.
“Okay then,” he finally said after a slightly awkward moment.. I could only imagine what he was seeing.
I was a mess. Everything was. From the inside out, I was a complete mess.
“My best friend’s wife will probably be here in a couple of minutes with breakfast. Her name is Sabrina. Don’t let her overwhelm you. She’s a little…. cheery,” he said, and his voice was slightly grumpy as he stood up. For the first time since waking up, I took in the state of his wrinkled clothes.
Had he slept in that chair the whole night? What did he expect back?
“John.” He turned to face me as he reached the doorway. “What do you get from helping me?”
“What?” His deep voice vibrated in the quiet room, and I took in the sight of his powerful body now that he was further away from me. The broadest shoulders I’d ever seen on a man were stiff, his back to me.
“What do you want in return?”
“Nothing.” His back was still to me. He wasn’t turning around to look at me.
“Everyone wants something… no one…” I started to say.
“Look, kid, relax." I watched as he only turned his head to look at me, "Like I said, I’m hardly here. You relax and recuperate and we will get you back on your feet…”
“But, John…”
“NO MAN should lay a hand on a woman,” he clearly enunciated. I stared, unable to stop the way my heart rate picked up.
I hated that I couldn’t stop my reaction when a man spoke too loudly or too angrily. I must have jumped or something because I watched as his fists clenched and unclenched, his body tight and stiff. I took in how he visibly tried to make his body relax and in a weird way, watching this man, this huge, strong, obviously surly man taking control and not acting out, made some of my fears fade away.
“Maybe you can help out around here, later, once you are better, okay?” He stated, looking annoyed. He ran his hand through his disheveled hair, and I lifted the blanket a little higher, because even though I’d slightly been afraid, watching him was making my body react and my nipples tightened.
“Help out?” I asked, trying to fight whatever I was feeling.
“Clean and stuff, but for now, relax. Rest.”
“Oh she’s awake,” a female voice chimed and John stepped away, a slight scowl appearing on his face as a pretty brunette walked into the room carrying a tray. She moved towards me and I sat up and stared at her.
She was beautiful. With a big, bright smile, maple-colored hair, and brown eyes; and something about those eyes made it hard to look away. She seemed willed with something bright from within, I just wasn’t sure what. All I knew was, it was like she was a bundle of sunshine walking into an already bright room.
“John?” She asked and I looked at him. He wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at me. I couldn’t define his expression, but it made me swallow hard. His gaze was fierce, not angry, just strong and unwavering.
“Umm, this is Sabrina. Sabrina, her name is Anne. Her daughter is Zoey.”
“What a pretty name,” Sabrina said smiling, and even with the mixture of pain and nerves I smiled back at her.
"Thank you," I said, clearing my throat, and watched her walk over to me. She gently placed the breakfast tray on my lap and sat close to me on the edge of the bed. Her hand came up to my forehead, and I felt my eyes grow wide at how comfortable she seemed around me.
"Fever broke," she said as she looked at me, her eyes bright. "Here, eat. I'll be downstairs watching Zoey. Don't worry about a thing. If you need anything, yell for John. He'll be in his study next door, right John?" She asked without turning back to confirm that he was still standing there.
I looked over and heard him grunt, which made Sabrina smile brighter. John was right, she was cheery.
"Okay then. I'll be back later."
"Thank you," I whispered, overwhelmed by her kindness.
"No thanks needed, honey." She said, squeezing my hand as her eyes softened. As quickly as she’d walked in, she walked out.
I looked at John, who stood staring at me.
"Thank you," I whispered. I wasn't sure he heard me since his dark eyes kept staring intensely at me in the silent room. That was until he tilted his chin and walked out.
Chapter Three
John
I stepped out of her room and took a deep breath. I wanted to breathe in air that wasn’t infused with her scent. My hands clenched at my sides as I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. What the fuck am I doing? Letting her stay? Offering her a place? What the fuck is my problem?
Running my fingers through my hair, I tried to get my shit together. Opening my eyes, I saw Sabrina standing by the stairs, staring at me. Her eyes were filled with curiosity. One delicate eyebrow went up, but before she said anything, I snapped at her.
“Don’t.” Surprise washed away from her light brown eyes and they instantly filled with amusement.
“I didn’t say anything.” A smile played on her lips.
“Not yet…”
“But if I were to say something, John,” she started to say, her eyes honest and open. I could see why Mike liked it, but I, on the other hand, held my breath, waiting to hear what she had to say. “Never mind,” she said, still smiling as she placed her arm in the crook of mine. We walked down my stairs to the ground floor. “I have a feeling that when you’re ready to talk, you’ll come to me. We might have more in common than we realize.” Her voice was soft and without judgement.
“Sab…”
“Mike hasn’t told me anything, just so you know. Whatever happened that fills your eyes with pain like that, he hasn’t shared nor will I ask him to. That’s your story to share. If you want to share though… I’m always here,” she said softly. There was a smile playing in her voice. We reached the last step and she let go of my arm.
“I need to go find that pretty girl!” She said, smiling brightly as if she didn’t just surprise the fuck out of me. I watched her leave as she walked into the kitchen. Once she was gone I shook my head, grabbed my briefcase, and headed back upstairs to the room that I'd been using as a study.
Back in my office, I stared at the screen of my laptop. There were emails I needed to respond to, but I couldn't seem to focus. Shaking my head, I called a temp agency and requested a new receptionist; at least one thing would be taken care of by the end of the day.
Anne
Drifting back to consciousness, my eyes went to the brown-haired man in rumpled looking olive-green cargo shorts and a black tee shirt just as he knocked on the door that had been left ajar. Sitting up, the blanket fell onto my lap.
“Hi. Sabrina sent me up with your lunch.” His face was kind and non-threatening, almost friendly.
“Hi. Thank you.” I mumbled, not looking at his handsome boy-next-door face. I watched as he carried a tray with a bowl of steaming soup, a mile-high ham and cheese sandwich, a water bottle, and a bowl of fruit.
“I’m Anne.” He smiled, only adding to his natural charm.
“Well, Anne, I have been given strict instructions to make sure you eat and that I entertain you.”
“Have you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I stared into his chocolate-brown eyes and fought against a smile.
“Sabrina is like a drill sergeant down there.”
“How is Zoey? Is she causing…” he shook his head as panic rose in me and he covered my hand.
“She’s like a doll, the best-behaved baby I’ve ever been around,” he said, looking sincere.
“Have you been around many babies?”
“Just the ones my friends have,” he answered and I laughed, eating a bite of the sweet, sliced strawberries.
“She is a good baby,” I shared.
“How old is she?”
“Nine months,” I told him as I looked up at him and watched as his eyes shifted quickly from my neck up to my eyes. It was fast, but I’d caught him staring at my bruising.
“It doesn’t hurt,” I mentioned and watched his jaw clench.
Our eyes met, something dark flashing behind his, and I wished I was the type of person to make friends easily, because something about him made me think he’d be a good friend.
He opened his mouth when someone cleared their throat. We looked up and saw John standing there: his dark gaze on us, his eyes narrowed.
“Nick.” His deep voice almost sounded like a snarl.
“John, buddy, come sit with us. Sabrina wants to make sure Anne here eats.”
I looked at his powerful body towering in the doorway. The light streaming through the window allowed me to take him in and he was a sight to behold. I knew he would be, but I didn’t realize that men like him existed outside of a silver screen.
His body exuded pure masculinity: long lean legs encased in tailor-fit, navy-blue slacks that hinted at his thick muscular thighs; a charcoal-grey dress shirt worn out of his slacks that gave him an easy relaxed air; broad thick shoulders that were made to hold on to or climb; slightly overgrown dark hair wet from what looked to be a recent shower; face serious, stubble still peppered over his square jaw, narrowed eyes fighting something.
“I can’t. I have some girls coming that need to be interviewed for a receptionist position.”
“Did you find an office?” Nick asked and John rolled his eyes.
“Not yet.” Nick laughed and John’s eyes narrowed even more.
“I just wanted to see if you needed anything. But it’s…” John suddenly stopped talking, his eyes not moving from mine. Something about the way he looked at me made me think he could see the center of me. But instead of feeling exposed and vulnerable it was almost fortifying.
A cell phone went off, snapping my gaze away from the surly man. Nick answered and with a frown he looked towards the door.
"John, you think you can sit with Anne? I'm sorry, I have an emergency at my office," Nick said as he stood and gave me a kind smile.
"Anne, it was a pleasure meeting you."
"You too. Thanks for lunch." He nodded and walked out, patting John on his shoulder as he left.
Quietly, I watched John take a deep breath as if he was scared to walk into the room.
"I'm okay if you're busy," I told him, sitting up straighter, even as my back protested against the movement.
"Do you not want me here?" His rich voice enveloped me, and I shook my head.
"I didn't say..."
"I know." I watched him walk to the chair next to my bed. His forearms rested on the chair’s arms. I looked down to the tray of food and tried to find my appetite, but something about him made me nervous.
Shy.
John
She looked at the tray of food on her lap, and her gaze didn’t come back up to meet mine. I didn’t like it. She’d looked so damn relaxed with Nick, and I wanted her like that with me. I had no idea why, I just did.
"Does it not look good?" I asked, leaning on the arms of the chair I’d slept in, trying to stretch my back without making it obvious.
"It looks great," she said and picked up the spoon. "Are you going to stare at me while I eat?" She asked defensively, and I couldn’t stop the smile that formed on my face.
Kitten definitely had claws, and I had to admit that I liked it. It was refreshing.
"Maybe," I answered, pushing away from the chair and standing with my arms across my chest. "Are you going to tell me who did that?" My chin was pointing in her direction.
Her face tilted up, and big brown eyes looked at me in surprise, then her expression turned into a frown, and she swallowed hard. In the light of a new day, I noticed that her eyes were not dark. They had hints of green and gold in them, making them almost hazel. I watched her as she processed my question. Her mind was probably going a million miles an hour, and it made me want to know who the fuck had done that to her, now more than ever.
"Is that a requirement?"
"Requirement?"
"To let Zoey and I stay here?" She asked bravely, but her haunted eyes gave her away.
"No...Not yet, anyhow. But eventually, I will want to know who did that to you and why you were running." I didn’t look away from her.
I was helpless when it came to the beautiful woman in front of me. I knew I would probably regret my decision, but I wasn’t going to change my mind. "Anyhow, a cleaning service is already setting up the guest house for you and Zoey. We will talk more once you're feeling better."
Trying to put needed distance between us, I walked to the door.
"I need to get ready for my interviews."
"Okay."
"I'm umm… across the hall if you need me."
"Okay...John...I know I said this already, but thank you." Her voice was full of emotion. I just nodded and got the hell out of there.
That woman was doing weird things to me.
Chapter Four
John
A curvy girl in a prim outfit with hideously wide-rimmed black glasses stared back at me.
“Miss Morgan…”
“Please, call me Birdie,” she interrupted, and I couldn’t help but frown. “I have the experience, and the recommendations. I would work my...my behind off for you...”
“Yes, but…” I said to the over the top bubbly girl. If I had an assistant they would be able to take care of shit like this!
“I know. I can see how being related to Vikki would make you hesitant, but I would like it noted that I willingly put that information on the application. That honesty should count for me, not against me…”
“Miss Morgan…” I was starting to get annoyed, but she took me by surprise.
“Mr. Davenport, I know this is a temporary position. I know that you were severely let down by your previous receptionist. I can guarantee you that I will not leave you stranded. I will work hard. I'll be the first in and last to leave. I will prove to you that I can handle this job and I’ll prove that my sister and I have nothing in common.” Her cheeks turned pink as she adjusted those horrible glasses on her face. I sat back and stared at her as I took a deep cleansing breath, but she beat me to it once again.
“I know a man of your stature would run a background check. A very thorough one, I don’t blame you. I would, too, being in your position. I needed to be honest about who I am related to." Her eyes softened behind her glasses and just like that she left a lasting blow, "You don’t pick your family, Mr. Davenport,” she finished off and I placed my hand on my chin.
“Miss Morgan…”
“Birdie,” she corrected me with a nervous smile as she held her hands together on her lap, and I bit away a smile. The kid was smart, way overqualified to work as my receptionist.
“Bernadette. What I was trying to say is that you are overqualified. You'd be answering phones, ru
nning errands…”
“And I will be amazing at it,” she interrupted, her eyes going wide behind her ugly glasses that had once again slipped down her nose. "Permission to speak bluntly, Mr. Davenport?" I nodded, now amused by her more than annoyed, and that alone was no small feat.
“The economy stinks out there. I need this job. I promise I will not let you down. I'll be the best receptionist in the history of clerical work. I won't…” I put my hand up and she quickly stopped talking.
“No. You won't.” Her face fell and her bottom lip trembled slightly as her shoulders slumped. Something about this girl ate at me.
You're getting soft, Johnny Boy, a voice inside me said, and I leaned forward. Rubbing my forehead, I watched her. First a single mom with a flat tire, and now this girl?
“I understand. Good luck on your search, Mr. Davenport,” she said as she stood up, lifting her hand to mine.
“You won't make a good receptionist, but you'll make a great personal assistant,” I mumbled out, trying hard not to smile at her reaction. Eyes wide as saucers, pushing the ugly glasses back up, her face brightened as my words sunk in.
“Really? Oh my God! Thank you! Thank you, Mr. Davenport!”
“Relax, kid. It's not going to be easy.” I sighed, “I'm not an easy man to work with. I can be an asshole and very difficult,” I told her, keeping my expression serious. “So think long and hard about this. It'll be a little light receptionist work, at least until we have an established office and we can hire someone to solely file and answer phones. Until then, you're in charge of that as well as being my PA. If that sounds like something you want to do, I need to know if you can start tomorrow.”
"I promise. I won't let you down!" She ecstatically shook my hand.
"Good. I should hope not. See you first thing tomorrow morning," I told her, and she smiled brightly. I watched her exit just as Mike entered the study.
“Don’t you have a job?” I asked him, then picked up the kid’s resume and pretended to look at it. I heard Mike laugh and watched as he sat down.
Davenport Harbor (Six Degrees Book 3) Page 3