by Helena Vera
“You’re so foolish, dressing up for him,” I scold myself. “You’ll never be anything more to him than just amusement.”
I grimace at an upsetting feeling in my tummy. I’d not been able to eat this morning and I’d thought it was nerves but now I’m beginning to think it is something else. My grandmother and I went out last night to a seafood restaurant and now I am wondering if I’d eaten something that wasn’t wholesome. This morning when I’d gotten up, my face had been clammy with sweat.
My heart skips a beat when I hear a car driving up to the house. My eyes automatically go to the clock in my bedroom. He’s late. Fifteen minutes after ten but he’s here. What does that say? Nothing. Except he really is desperate for a PA who already is familiar with the running of Ash’s Publishing. And the kiss? I’d rather not analyse that. I still have no idea why he kissed me. Probably noticed my attraction to him and wanted to it to humiliate me.
A car door opens and closes. The doorbell rings and I close my eyes. Gram would get it. She thinks I don’t know what she is doing but I do. She has her two closest friend from the Bridge Club with her, drinking tea in the living room and gossiping. The minute they came over at nine I knew they are here to get good look at my handsome, rich boss.
Last night, I heard gram on the phone talking about him, about how dashing he is and so polite and kind too. I scoff at myself. If only she had an inkling about the true Axel.
After a few minutes passed, I decide the introductions would have already been done so we could load my suitcases in his car and get going. I leave my bedroom, wheeling my suitcases behind me out into the hall. I could hear chattering and laughing coming from the living room so I head in that direction.
Why am I not surprised to see Axel sitting between Gram’s two friends on the sofa? Margaret Turnpike and Dotty Hayes. Both women are staring up at him with adoring eyes. One would have thought him to be the much-touted Messiah. I scowl at them all sitting there acting like he is some kind of saint.
“Joyce, your grandmother was right,” Dotty says to me and she touches Axel’s arm, the shameless flirt she still is at sixty-five. “You’ve got yourself one fine man here.”
“He’s just my boss,” I correct her, going to perch on the armrest of the sofa where gram is sitting.
“If I have a boss like this, I’d come out of retirement,” Margaret adds with a giggle. I couldn’t believe the way these older women are acting and fawning over him. He is a good-looking man but he is no Prince Charming.
“And I’d hire you in a heartbeat too Maggie,” Axel responds to her statement. “I’m sure you’d give some of the youngers gals at the office a run for their money.”
Maggie? Not even I call her Maggie. How did Axel get that privilege? I sit there watching as he charms and flirts with the women, winning them over with a lie because this isn’t who he really is. The three older women hang on to his every word, asking him questions about his business and personal life which he answers.
Where did this man come from? I muse watching in jealousy the way he interacts with these women. Why can’t he be as charming with me? If he treated me like this we would have no problems. I would be willing to continue working for him.
“I can’t believe a woman hasn’t snapped you up already,” Maggie states in awe, giving his body such a thorough look, I blush for him but he only grins. “And you being such a handsome devil. Don’t tell me you haven’t realized how gorgeous your boss is, Joyce?”
I frown at Margaret for bringing me into their conversation. Now Axel has his head cocked to one side, observing me and waiting for me to comment.
“It’s not up to me to notice what my boss is or isn’t,” I answer, getting to my feet, then directs my cross look to Axel who looks just a little bit too comfy sitting between both women. “I thought we had a flight to catch.”
“No rush. We’re using my private jet.”
And the women start again with their chatter, wanting to know what it is like to be wealthy enough to own his own private jet.
“Excuse us a minute.” Gram gets up to her feet. “Joyce, will you help me get some drinks from the kitchen?”
I follow her gladly to the kitchen, a bit sick to my stomach. If Axel could flirt so openly with two very older women, the likelihood of him doing the same with younger women more our age is very high. Too high for my liking. I don’t like the idea of Axel with another woman and this bothers me.
Feeling a little queasy, I rest my arms on the kitchen counter, my cheeks heating with the remembrance of Axle kissing me here this morning. Am I hot only from that kiss or was I running a temperature? I am feeling a little hot.
“Are you okay, dear?” Gram asks, getting several glasses from the kitchen cupboard and the pitcher of lemonade she squeezes herself from the fridge. “You seem a little tense.”
“I just want to go already,” I respond.
“Few days ago you were hellbent on coming home,” she reminds me. “Now you can’t wait to go back to Detroit. Do you actually understand what it is that you want Joyce or are you making rash decisions? Such as quitting your job?”
“I’m not sure what I want,” I agree.
“From the tension between you two,” gram presses. “I would say you want that man in there and it scares you. That’s the reason you quit your job.”
“Not at all. He really is an insufferable man.”
“Seems to me he’s exactly the type of man you need.”
“What? No way, he reminds me of my father.”
“First of all, it’s kind of unfair to compare the two,” she states. “Your father was a drunk and a coward who bullied your mother and physically abused her. I’m sorry you got caught up in all that, Joyce but not all man with a commanding presence would physically hurt a woman and I may not know him but I would be willing to bet that Axel wouldn’t do such a thing.”
I think of the way he took me by the shoulders and grip my jaw and I couldn’t be as sure as she is.
“I don’t know gram, besides I don’t even think the man is interested.”
“And you think he’s here simply to get back a PA? You’re smarter than that, girl. Don’t lie to yourself because it means you get to stay in your comfort zone.”
“I’m not—”
“It’s evident that you’re attracted to him,” she continues, ignoring the words I was about to say. “And I’m glad it’s him. For a very long time, I worried because of your experience with your father you would just a simple, soft man to love. You wouldn’t be happy with such a man Joyce.”
“Gram, you’re taking things out of proportion,” I remark, backpedalling from this dangerous topic fast.
“If you say so. Bring the tray for me, will you?”
I bring the tray with the glasses of lemonade from everyone. Dotty had excused herself to use the bathroom and after resting the tray on the center table before us, I move to walk back to sit beside my grandmother. Axel foils my plan by holding my wrist and tugging me to sit beside him. My eyes fly to gram and she gives me a knowing look.
A disappointed Dotty goes to sit across from us beside my grandmother when she returns. The conversation continues while we sip on the refreshing lemonade but I couldn’t keep up with what is being said. I am too conscious of the muscles in Axel’s thigh which is pressed next to mine on the couch. I am not sure if he’s doing it for spite or if it’s an accident. Whichever it is, the hardness of him just makes me more aware of myself as small and a bit helpless in comparison to his imposing figure.
“Well, ladies, this has been fun,” Axel announce after a while, getting to his feet and pulling me along with him. He hasn’t let go of my hand since he tugged at me to sit beside him. His thumb strums against my pulse now as we get ready to leave. “I hope one day you ladies will consider coming out to Detroit,” he is saying to them. “My treat of course whenever you wish. I’ll send the jet to get you and you can stay at my hotel. Gram has my number so she can call me directly.”
“Yes, she does. Now say goodbye to your grandmother.”
He lets go of my hand and I embrace gram. “You traitor,” I whisper in her ear. “You’ve teamed up with him.”
“It’s for your own good,” she returns. “I like him.”
But I don’t. Hugs aside, the three women walk us out to the porch with us and I hug gram again while Axel stows my suitcases into the trunk of the car.
“Be safe now,” she cautions me. “And live a little.”
“I’ll call you when I get to Detroit,” I promise and walk towards the car where Axle has the door open for me. He waves to the ladies once more and slides into the back of the car alongside me. Too much to hope he would ride up front with the driver. Only one man is with him today and he could have sit in the passenger seat but who am I trying to kid? If Axle isn’t trying to make me uncomfortable he isn’t happy.
“Alone at last,” he says, the charm he had displayed to the ladies dropping.
I hope the warmth that I feel has to do with a physical ailment and not because of the heated look he is giving me.
9
CHAPTER
Axel
I am not certain how to react with Joyce’s blatant disregard for the luxury jet and the wealth and power it shows of my status. Most working class women like her would be agog and besides themselves with excitement at being treated to such luxury. Other than the widening of her eyes at first, she does nothing other than to take the seat along the first zone where I point out that she should sit.
And yet I’m impressed with her poise. By observing her, one would never guess this is her first time being on a private jet. I am not partial to women and I have to say she’s one of the very few ladies who have ever flown in my jet and not gush about it. It confirms my suspicion of her, that she isn’t the kind of woman who is taken by material things. I find this as beautiful as I find the rest of her.
As the plane take off, I observe her, wondering what is it that’s so special about her that she has me ass backwards. It’s not that she’s extremely beautiful though she is very pleasant to look at. I’ve date women who were more beautiful, hotter and with more vivacious personality. Yet none of them has ever occupied my thoughts the way Joyce does.
And I almost blew it. She seems pissed at me as she stared out through the window and ignore me. She hasn’t spoken one sentence to me since we left her grandmother’s. I couldn’t say I blame her either. I’m aware of the way I’ve been bossing her around but I am not sure what else I can do. All I know is that that first day we met, the only thing on my mind at the time was taking over Cavil’s and wondering if I was doing the right thing in assuming responsibilities of a failing publishing company. Then I’d run into this woman and the second I lay eyes on her and saw her cheeks flush, I knew something was different about her.
I enjoy parrying words with her, even intimidating her a little for her to do what I want. If she only knew I wouldn’t do any of the things I’ve threatened to do. I would have let her go from her contract but I have a need I didn’t understand fully to keep her around.
Attraction is there of course. Definitely after that scorching kiss in her grandmother’s restaurant the day before. I’d wanted to lift her onto the couch and sink my manhood into her body but it was too soon. I had to know if she’s as special as I think she is. Or would she turn out to be money hungry? Her actions indicate she isn’t or she wouldn’t have run away to Birmingham, putting thousands of miles between us.
The day I’d walked by her desk and seen the website for Southwest Airline, I hadn’t been able to resist getting a closer look. I’d noted the dates she had selected and the airport and had been furious that she was still planning to leave even after the way I’d threatened her. I could have stopped her from then but I tried telling myself that her leaving was probably for the best anyway. I couldn’t afford for distraction with a new company to run.
Two days later I was still trying to convince myself as I looked through her personal file and found out just who she had in Birmingham. I’d been relieved it wasn’t a boyfriend but her grandmother listed as next-of-kin on her file. I had the exact address where she was staying and I hadn’t been able to resist going after her.
I acknowledge the madness of my actions in leaving the business without a head of authority but the employees seemed to know their tasks. I’d left the interior decorator to designing the office exactly how Joyce had envisioned it and took the private jet out to see her. If she was thousands of miles away and I couldn’t stop thinking about her and those cute blushes of her, then I’d sooner have her around where I could keep an eye of her.
“Joyce, do you want a glass of champagne?” I ask her, to break the silence between us.
She shakes her head but doesn’t answer. Her eyes are closed and she appears to be lulling herself to sleep. I’m disappointed. I want to talk to her, to find out more about her. Why is her grandmother her next-of-kin instead of her parents? Why is she so skittish around me? I could understand the powerful attraction between us making her wary but sometimes she seems almost afraid of me.
At first, hearing the way Cavil spoke about her, I’d thought there was something between the two which had made me very cold towards her but I soon realized how foolish the idea was.
I could be charming and sweet to her but that wouldn’t work with Joyce. I read her quite well. If I calmly ask her out on a date, she would say no. Joyce needs a man who can make her step out of her shell and be who she’s meant to be. And I’m determined for that man to be me.
I want to teach her to trust me.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and go to the wet bar where I pour myself a glass of cognac and poured her a glass of sherry despite her saying she doesn’t want anything. The alcohol will do her some good, let her relax and probably we could get around to talking.
Returning to our seat, I place the drinks on the table before us. She still doesn’t acknowledge my presence any at all and I am becoming annoyed with her.
“Are you planning to sulk for the two-and-a-half-hour ride to Detroit?” I ask her. I am trying to go for a friendlier tone but didn’t quite succeed in hiding my annoyance.
She makes a sound like a moan and I frown at her. “Joyce, are you okay?”
“I don’t feel so good,” she moans and wraps her hand around her tummy, trying to huddle into herself.
At first the thought crosses my mind that she is faking it but the minute I reach to take her arm and feel the heat coming from her skin, I know she’s sick. I touch her forehead and she’s burning up. Damn, she was fine before we left her grandmother, what the hell would have caused her to be sick right now?
“Joyce, you’ve a high temperature,” I say to her.
“I know,” she mumbles.
“Why didn’t you say something?” I berate her. “Good Lord, woman. Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation? First, starving yourself and now suffering in silence from a fever.”
“I didn’t want to bother you.”
Anger rise inside of me. “Damn it, Joyce. Feel free to bother me anytime something is wrong.”
She unbuckles her seatbelt and tries to stand but she’s woozy and I catch her.
“I need the bathroom,” she says, holding her mouth.
“Shit.”
I swing her up in my arms and stride towards the lavarotory. The bathroom was designed to be luxurious, with a shower. I hold her to me as she vomits into the toilet and my heart wrenches painfully to see her like this and not knowing the cause. She dry-heaves a few times, her slender body shuddering in my arms.
“Got it all out?” I ask her gently wiping the sweat from her face.
“This is so embarrassing,” she murmurs and tries to hide her face from me. “Must be something I ate last night at that restaurant.”
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
I help he
r to brush her teeth with the disposable toothbrushes I keep stored before lifting her in my arms once more. She is so hot that it scares me. I can feel her body burning up against mine. She wraps her arms around my neck to keep herself steady as I walk her to the back of the jet where the bedroom is. The area consists of a bed, a La-Z-Boy recliner and massage chair, rug and a television. I place her on the bed.
“I’ve got to get you out of this dress for you to cool off, Joyce.”
She shakes her head fitfully from one side to one. “No, you can’t. I’ll be fine.”
I hold her face gently between my hands and direct her eyes to my worried ones. “You need to get cool, Joyce,” I insist. “Don’t worry about me taking advantage of you. I’ve all the time in the world to do that when you’re better.”
She doesn’t protest and I drop a kiss on her feverish forest before sitting her up in the bed so I could pull her dress over her head. She sinks back down onto the bed and huddles on her side, embarrassed even in her feeling so ill. As much as she is dressed only in her bra and panties and is a beauty to behold, I’m more concerned about getting her fever down.
I leave her shortly to damp some towels in the bathroom next to the bedroom and return to her side. I press the cool material to her forehead and she hisses.
“That feels so good,” she murmurs.
“It’ll get your fever down,” I tell her softly. “I’ve got painkillers you can also take. When was the last time you ate?”
“Last night,” she answers. “I wasn’t feeling too good when I woke up this morning.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
She doesn’t respond. I continue wiping her face, her neck, down her body until I am satisfied she is cool enough.
“I’m going to get you something to eat,” I inform her so she doesn’t think I’ve abandoned her.
“Where? Wendy’s?” she jokes weakly. “Not even you can pull that off.”
“Hmm. We’ll see.”
I pull the sheet up her waist, my eyes straying to her small perky breasts which makes my mouth dry. I tear my gaze away and find her looking at me, her cheeks flushed with more than just fever. I drop a kiss on her brow and make my way to the galley. Before I could even address how much we want each other, first and foremost is getting her well.