Just One Kiss

by Carole Dean

  Something in her tone changed at the mention of Megan Dorado. Nikki was curious.

  “Do you miss her terribly?” she asked.

  Darlene looked at her in surprise. The personal question seemed to catch her off guard. “Megan? Yes, I do. She was a wonderful employer and a valued friend—a cherished friend.”

  For the first time, Nikki saw Darlene’s rigidly composed features soften. The effect was startling. A whole woman emerged from her carefully constructed shell of professionalism. “Tell me about her,” she urged.

  Darlene gave her a long look as if deciding whether or not to give her something precious. She hesitated.

  Nikki stood up and waved a hand to the chair on the other side of her desk. “Please. I’d love to hear about her,” she said again, pleased when Darlene accepted the chair. “All I know about her is what I read in the papers.”

  Nikki knew instinctively that Darlene wanted to talk. She still had more antipathy than fondness for the woman, but she could see her despondency. If it would help her to talk, she’d listen. Besides, she truly was keenly interested in Megan Dorado.

  “How long did you work with her?” Nikki prompted.

  “Seventeen years. I was close to your age when I went to work for Prisma.” She brushed some imaginary lint from her skirt. “The company was smaller then. I started as a part-time typist. When Megan decided to go for the international market, my language skills—I majored in languages and am fluent in French, Spanish, and Italian—came in handy. What I didn’t know about business she taught me, and before long I was her executive assistant.” She stopped speaking as though taking time to look into those years before going on.

  “Those were exciting days. Megan was ambitious for Prisma. She accepted no limits, always looking to the future, adding goal to goal. She accomplished so much, and I was fortunate to be with her every step of the way. I’ve never met anyone I admired more, and there is no one to whom I am more indebted.” Darlene’s slightly formal speech could not hide the emotion in her eyes.

  Nikki risked a more personal question. “She never married again. Was there a reason for that?”

  Again Darlene hesitated. “She wanted to, I think. And there was no shortage of eligible men. She was a beautiful woman, as you might have noticed in her pictures. Very dark, like Michael. Somehow it never happened. I asked her about it not long before she died.” She stopped.

  “What did she say?” Nikki’s eyes were fixed on her.

  Darlene’s laugh was ironic. “She said she hadn’t found the time yet, but she would—soon. Soon never came, but a fatal stroke did. She died six months later.”

  “You must have been devastated. You and Michael.”

  “I’m not sure Michael is over it yet. He adored his mother. The relationship was more than mother and son. They were friends. He was always pleading with her to slow down and enjoy life.” She shook her head, as if knowing the impossibility of such a thing. “She told me he was even doing a little matchmaking, which amused her no end. ‘My son is the last of the true romantics, Darlene,’ she told me. ‘Where do you suppose he gets it? From the Spanish or Irish half?’” A smile crossed Darlene’s face at the memory.

  “And what about you? Have you ever been married?” It amused Nicole as well to think of Michael’s attempts to find a husband for his mother. She agreed with his mother. Michael was a romantic.

  “No,” said Darlene. “Like Megan, I haven’t had the time, though I did come close a couple of times. There always seemed to be a reason it wouldn’t work out. I guess I got in the habit of putting my career first. When I look back on the past ten or twelve years, it’s a blur of work, travel, and more work. I guess that’s about to change.” She stood and smoothed her skirt. Her face was more open now and some of the melancholy was gone. She looked across the desk at Nikki and a shadow crossed her patrician face. She looked uncomfortable.

  “I think I owe you an apology, Nicole.” She stopped, fidgeted with the buttons on her blouse. “About your meeting with Michael at Whistler—it was my idea to cancel the meeting, not his.”

  “I know,” Nikki said, frowning slightly. “What I don’t know is why.”

  Darlene raised her head in surprise at Nikki’s calm acceptance of her confession, then shrugged her elegant shoulders. “I’ve asked myself that question, but I’m still not sure of the answer. Fear, perhaps?” she said, looking as puzzled as Nikki felt. “There was a time when I would never have dreamed of doing such a thing. But now, with everything I am tied to Prisma, and my bloody career, I—” she stopped again, shook her head. “The truth is I was trying so hard to impress Michael, I didn’t think straight.”

  Nikki was confused, and it showed in her voice when she asked, “Impress Michael? I don’t understand. After all those years working with his mother, you must know more about the business than he does.”

  “I wanted to prove I was good enough to be appointed president of Prisma. You must know, Nicole, that Michael has been looking for his own replacement for months.”

  Nikki didn’t know. Vancouver was a long way from Europe. What was thunderous industry gossip there was but a faint echo on Canada’s West Coast. She assumed Michael was president by choice and would remain so. President of Prisma International! What a job that would be. Nikki knew she wouldn’t hesitate to go for it, if she thought she had the experience to carry it off. But she was a few years from that, and was happy enough where she was for now. Still, she mulled over the idea of taking a language course. Maybe someday she’d ...

  She heard Darlene go on. “He must have interviewed every eligible candidate on the face of the globe. Maybe unconsciously he’s trying to replace his mother. I don’t know. But all this time I’ve been waiting, hoping in the end he would choose me. I should have known he wouldn’t. Today he confirmed it. He doesn’t think I have the, uh, magic.”

  Darlene had her hand on the door. “The surprising thing is I’m more relieved than disappointed. I find that I don’t really want to be president. I think in some convoluted way I thought I owed it to Megan to try, but I know now I’m not the right one for the job. Anyway, I’m glad it’s settled. Maybe now I can pick up the threads of my personal life—if I can find them.

  “And about me knowing more about Prisma than Michael does? That was true, but only in the beginning. Michael has a natural aptitude for business. What he didn’t know when he started, he made his business to find out as quickly as possible. In that way, he is his mother’s son, talented and dedicated.” Her expression turned almost shy—for Darlene.

  “I don’t usually talk so much, you know. Especially on a personal level—that’s something else I forgot along the way—but I guess today I needed to. I hope you accept my apology, Nicole. I would like us to be friends.”

  “Apology accepted.” Nicole smiled, came from behind her desk, and offered her hand. “And as for our being friends, I think that’s a great idea. It will make working together much easier.”

  Darlene took her hand. “Thank you. I’m grateful you’re so understanding. I doubt that I would have been. As for our working together, we’ll have to see about that. It may be time to make changes in my life, before it’s too late. Besides, I think we’ll both have to wait and see who Michael chooses as his successor. If it’s a hard old crone like me, it might not be pleasant.” Darlene smiled at her own self-deprecating remark and was gone.

  Nikki stared at the closed door. So Darlene Nichols was human after all. It must have been difficult for Michael to deny her the presidency.

  She slapped her head. There he was again! Worming his way into her head. She turned to the computer on her desk and flicked it on. She had a few minutes before lunch. She’d dash off a couple of short memos and dash Michael from her mind. She looked again at the velvety red rose on her desk and shook her head.

  ***

  “We finally made it, Niks. I was beginning to think we’d never get together again.” Amy spoke as the two women juggled salads, coffe
es, and shoulder bags to take chairs in the open seating area of the farmer’s fresh food market. They sat to the side, near the window that looked out on the stubby little tug boats harbored next door.

  The day was a winner, scrubbed bright and fresh from the recent rainfall, with the late-winter sun promising even better, drier days ahead. It was a promise rain-soaked West Coasters lived for and always believed—no matter how many times it proved false. On days like this when the city glittered like a newly polished sapphire, the endless rain was easily forgotten.

  “You know,” Amy said. “It was only last week we had lunch here, but it seems like forever. So much has happened since then.” She speared a piece of lettuce, then let it dangle on her fork as she went on. “Think about it. Jayne gone. The Whistler meetings. Your promotion. Michael being here. I mean it’s incredible, don’t you think?” She ate the lettuce.

  “Incredible is a good description,” Nikki said, settling into her chair. “It’s a challenge just trying to have lunch together these days. Here it is Friday already, for heaven’s sake. I hope this isn’t the usual working pace for Prisma. If it is, they’ll have to trade in their G.M. on a regular basis.”

  “Don’t kid me, Nicole Johnson. You love every minute of it.”

  Nikki gave a sheepish look. “You’re right, I do. It’s challenging, demanding—sometimes overwhelming—but it is exciting. I’m learning so much, so fast, sometimes I wonder if I’m taking it all in—and having so much fun, I feel guilty.”

  “Why should you feel guilty? You’re working your buns off. It’s Michael who should feel guilty. You’ve been in early and worked late every day this week, and it looks like more of the same for the rest of the month. You must be exhausted. Don’t you think you’re overdoing it?”

  Nikki was surprised by the implied criticism in her friend’s tone. Who was Amy knocking, her or Michael? She wasn’t sure, but she mustered a defense anyway.

  “Overdoing it? I don’t think so. There are new budgets to finish, distributors to contact, new packaging to create and—”

  Amy held up a hand. “Enough already. I don’t want to hear another word about all the things that need to be done. I’ve been working with Darlene all week, remember. I know the plans inside, outside, and backward. Please, I’m begging you—no shop talk.” She gave Nikki a suitably beseeching look.

  “I’m sorry. I guess working with Darlene hasn’t been any picnic.” Nikki was sure of that. While Darlene was more agreeable this week, she was still an exacting executive. “What do you want to talk about?” Nikki buttered a deliciously fattening bread roll and looked at her friend.

  “Let’s talk about the shopkeeper. Let’s talk about Michael. That was the reason for this lunch date in the first place, wasn’t it?”

  “I guess so,” Nikki answered, thinking maybe the bread roll wasn’t going to be so good after all. She’d been dreading this conversation. She didn’t want to hear about Amy and Michael or what was between them. The idea of it filled her with an unreasoning envy over what her friend had shared with him. She didn’t want to hear that Amy still cared.

  “Why haven’t we talked about him before now, Niks?” Amy prodded. “You’ve delayed this lunch—what—three, four times? Every time I bring up his name, you change the subject.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’ve been busy, that’s all, and so have you.”

  “That’s not it, and you know it. There’ve been plenty of times we could have got together.” Amy played with her salad. “It’s been hurtful, Nikki. I thought we were friends, and I thought you’d be interested in what happened when I was in Ireland. Especially now that you and Michael are so ... whatever.” Amy stopped, started again. “I just thought you’d understand, that’s all.”

  Nikki put her own fork down and gave Amy her full attention. She would make up for her insensitivity. Amy was her friend, and if she were in love with Michael, there was nothing she could do but listen and bear it. To think Amy thought she didn’t care made her unhappy. Nikki decided to be direct.

  “I think I do understand. When you were in Ireland, you fell in love. Am I right so far?” Nikki tensed as she waited for the answer.

  “Did I ever.” Amy’s silvery blue eyes misted and Nikki’s heart scudded downward. “It happened during my last week there. The bunch of us took a boat to Garinish Island to see the gardens. I met him on the way back to Glengarriff and, well, you know, one thing led to another.” She paused. “I never believed in love at first sight, but that’s what it was. I spent only four days with him, but it was four days of heaven. It broke my heart to leave. If there’d been any hope, any hope at all, I wouldn’t have. I would have phoned Jayne and said, Color me gone. When I saw Michael at the base of the lift at Whistler, it came back with such a rush I could hardly stand it.”

  “It must have been difficult,” Nikki muttered as she tried to make sense of the feelings poking at her like poisoned arrows. “What happened? You were free, I presume he was. Why did you leave?”

  “He wasn’t free. He was engaged. What with my leaving, and the pressure of his engagement, there didn’t seem to be time enough for any rational thought, let alone love.”

  Nikki didn’t know Michael had been engaged, but she wasn’t surprised. It shocked her to think of him looking at other women while he was engaged. It also disappointed her. She guessed the result—his intended bride found out and sent him packing. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around the picture of any woman sending Michael packing, but that must be what happened. He’d never married.

  “I’m sorry, Amy. Do you still feel terrible about it?”

  “I did until I spoke to Michael yesterday.” Amy’s eyes were shining. “He didn’t get married after all. I talked to him yesterday. He’s coming over next month. Can you believe it? A second chance. You don’t get those often.”

  Nikki was bewildered. Coming over? What was Amy talking about? Nikki’s confusion showed on her face when she asked, “Who’s coming over?”

  “Sean.” It was Amy’s turn to look confused.

  “Who’s Sean?”

  Amy rolled her eyes. “You’re working too hard, woman. I’ve been telling you all about him. Haven’t you been listening?”

  “Of course I’ve been listening, but I thought you were talking about—” Nikki was too embarrassed to continue.

  “About who, for heaven’s sake?” Amy was genuinely puzzled.

  Nikki had no escape. “I thought you were talking about Michael.”

  “What? You’re kidding! Why would you think that?” Amy laughed. “Michael is Sean’s cousin. That’s how I met Michael. Sean introduced us one night at the local pub. We shared a couple of pints and had dinner with him.”

  “Didn’t he think it strange Sean was with you when he was engaged to another woman?”

  Amy gave a slight shrug. “If he did, he didn’t let on. Or Sean and I didn’t notice. Sean did tell me Michael wasn’t very fond of his fiancée. Maybe that had something to do with it. Anyway, the real story is that Michael called Sean after we talked this week and arranged for him to come over. I can’t wait for you to meet him, Niks. If you think Michael is a dish, wait ‘til you see Sean.”

  “I never said Michael was a dish,” Nikki was quick to retort. “I don’t think of him that way. I think of him as my boss.”

  “Yeah, right,” Amy drawled. “Like you haven’t noticed a fully loaded six-foot frame that would be every woman’s fondest wish?”

  Nikki remained silent and tried to look unconcerned.

  Amy continued. “And you haven’t noticed the pair of sexy green eyes that seem only able to focus on you, no matter how many women are in the room? If that’s true, you need serious help. You are one sick little puppy.”

  “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” Nikki tried for a huffy tone.

  “What I’m saying is you should take the time to smell the flowers. Especially that mysterious red rose of yours.” Amy smiled knowingly and reached for the b
ill. “C’mon, let’s go. My desk looks like Mount Everest, and I intend to clear it before this day is out.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The following week ended up as busy as Nikki’s first—a blur of meetings topped by a zillion phone calls. Nikki’s shortest workday in the past two weeks had been ten hours. The toughest part was the contract negotiations with one of Prisma’s biggest distributors, but Michael had handled it beautifully. He handled everything beautifully. She sighed, half in regret, half in admiration. There was so much he could teach her. If it weren’t so ... tricky, she’d happily follow him around like a puppy.

  She despaired of getting a real grip on things before he left—in two weeks. Two short weeks. She didn’t want to even think about it. And if she were honest, she’d admit it wasn’t just in the business sense that she’d miss him. Lopping off that line of thought, she closed her office door and sagged against it. Amy was right, she was pushing too hard.

  She was thankful it was Friday. To-night she’d be out of here by seven and in bed by nine, where she intended staying until Sunday afternoon.

  She’d been honest with Amy when she told her she was loving every minute of it, but it wasn’t without strain. A strain mostly caused by one Michael Dorado.

  Nikki was more drawn to him every day, and she couldn’t understand why. He’d been a perfectly proper employer, not to mention an exciting and challenging boss. He had made no move, and there sure wasn’t any sign of the promised romance. Nikki frowned. Still, it was as though he were reining her in, encircling her with an invisible golden cord. He was doing something. She didn’t know what.

  What was he doing?

  Nikki half-sat on the front of her desk, engrossed in the puzzle.

  There was the red rose, of course. It came every day, but since the first day, never with a card. She’d told him to stop the roses. He’d ignored her request.

  And there was that smile of his. He always smiled at her, teasing, warm, with a twist of sin. But that could be her imagination. He smiled at everyone, easily and often. Besides, you can’t tell a man to stop smiling at you. That would be stupid.