As if on cue, Jamie swished into the office, closing the door at her back with a loud click. She wore a red plaid skirt that barely had a hemline and matching leather boots that went up to her knees. Her red hair had become blonde in Claire’s absence, and her fingernails had gone from fuchsia to pink.
“Claire. You’re back.” She clapped her hands together. “I’m so glad you decided not to leave.” She paused, approaching Claire’s desk. “How was your vacation, by the way? It was kind of sudden.”
“Yes.” Claire forced herself to smile. “I’m sorry about that, but I really needed to get away for a little while.”
Her assistant raised a dyed blonde brow. “So where did you go? How was it?”
Claire had known she would pry for information. With both Claire and Logan gone suddenly in the same week, rumors were bound to begin swirling. “It was nice,” she offered noncommittally, not really wanting to tell Jamie the truth, but not wanting to lie to her either.
Jamie leaned on the front of Claire’s desk, her eyes narrowing. She sensed a story and Claire knew it. After working together for so many years, she knew Claire well. Probably too well.
“You should have heard the rumors flying around this place while you were gone,” Jamie said, her tone knowing.
“Really?” She didn’t want to know about the rumors. They were likely all true. The last person in the world she wanted to think about right now was Logan. She’d been very good at keeping her mind off him since arriving at work.
True, when she parked in the garage, she had thought of him, and then again walking into work, then again in the elevator. But ever since she’d turned on her laptop and started wading through the emails clogging her inbox, she hadn’t thought of him once. Okay, maybe once. But definitely not twice.
Jamie nodded, gaining momentum by Claire’s feigned interest. There was little, after all, she liked more than gossip and fingernail polish. “You wouldn’t believe the things they were saying. Everyone thought that since you and King Monroe took off the same week that you were together.”
Claire felt as if she were choking. “Oh?”
She hated that she had to keep her relationship—or what remained of that relationship—with Logan a secret. She wanted, almost desperately, to send an email copied to all LM employees announcing she was having Logan Monroe’s child. The hell with his business reputation, the hell with good sense. She would never understand how he could be so cold, so remote, so unfeeling. After they had come so far, he was willing to turn their relationship back into one of bland disinterest. It crushed her to think of it.
Jamie rolled her eyes, apparently oblivious to Claire’s turn of thoughts. “Of course, I knew you weren’t with King Monroe. Irene from Client Services said she saw you making out with him in your car two weeks ago, but everyone knows she lies about everything. I mean, she told the whole office she lost twenty-five pounds on that bean soup and lemon juice cleanse thingy but she looks exactly the same. If anything, she gained weight. Did you see the outfit she’s wearing today? She looks like a hotdog stuffed into a miniskirt. God, and to think Todd from Accounting actually dumped me for that skank.” Jamie paused in the middle of her heated diatribe, looking at Claire. “Are you okay?”
Claire nodded, then the tears burst forth, the floodgates opening. “No.”
All the pent-up emotions from yesterday, the emotions she had refused to either acknowledge or vent, released. Fat, wet tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping onto the keyboard of her laptop. She was dimly aware of Jamie skirting the desk and putting an arm around her shoulders.
“Claire?” Jamie’s voice was hesitant. “What’s the matter?”
Claire took a shuddering breath. “Nothing.” But she continued to cry, making a lie of her own words. She couldn’t seem to help herself. An image of the giant yarn balls that had terrorized her dreams rose before her.
“It’s not…is something wrong with the baby?” Jamie’s voice grew increasingly worried.
“No.” Claire shook her head vehemently. “No. The baby is fine. I’m fine. I’m not feeling very well. Maybe I should go h-home.”
“Are you sure that’s it?”
She met Jamie’s troubled gaze. It would feel so good, would be such a relief, to tell her assistant the truth. “Not really,” she whispered.
“You know you can tell me anything,” Jamie said softly, grabbing a tissue and handing it to Claire.
Claire blew her nose. “It’s Logan’s baby,” she divulged suddenly, before she could change her mind.
“What?” Jamie’s shocked voice echoed in Claire’s office. She sank her bottom down onto the edge of Claire’s desk as though she could no longer support herself. “Are you telling me that King Monroe is the father of your baby?”
“Yes.” Claire proceeded to reveal the entire, sordid story that was her recent life history through crying-induced hiccups. When she finished, she blew her nose again. “And now, it’s like there was never anything between us. I keep thinking about it, and with the pregnancy, I’m so emotional.”
“I understand.” Jamie patted her consolingly. “Wipe your eyes and take a minute to compose yourself. I’ll create a distraction and you can leave. If the King asks for you, I’ll tell him you’re sick. How does that sound?”
“Like a good plan,” Claire admitted, giving Jamie a tremulous smile.
Jamie winked. “Give me a minute and I’ll see what I can do.”
When she turned to leave, Claire called out her name. Jamie looked back at her askance. “You’re the world’s best assistant, Jamie, and a really great friend,” she said, meaning every word of it.
Jamie gave her a smile. “I know. And don’t think I’m above hitting you up for a raise.”
A week had passed since Claire and Logan had ended their relationship.
It felt more like a year.
But she was valiantly trying to keep from thinking of it, throwing herself into everything she could possibly think of instead. Already, she’d learned to knit and crochet. She had a yellow baby blanket, matching cap and booties to show for that effort. She’d also prepared a dynamite Creative presentation for the restaurant chain Johnson’s, ready for next Monday’s meeting with their representatives. She and Garrett had met over dinner and amicably agreed to divvy up the rest of their belongings. Now she was immersed in helping Sophie and Trevor move into their new house. And trying to forget the fact that after today, she would actually be completely alone in every sense of the word.
“Claire, can you hand me that box?”
Claire looked at the sea of boxes surrounding her, then shot Sophie a pointed glance. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”
Sophie smiled, her royal-blue eyes twinkling. Her brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and even in her maternity dress, she looked adorable. “The one that’s marked kitchen.”
Claire found the box her sister referred to and lifted it easily into her arms.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
The deep, masculine voice had Claire turning in surprise to find Trevor’s good friend, Marcus Wesley, entering the kitchen, boxes in hand. Marcus had been the best man in Sophie and Trevor’s wedding. Claire had been the matron of honor. Marcus was, in a word, gorgeous. Not to mention devastatingly charming.
Claire found herself smiling at him. “Handing Soph this box.”
“Oh no you don’t.” Effortlessly, he lowered the boxes he was carrying to the polished wood of the kitchen floor. “No lifting for either of you.” He reached out and took the box from Claire’s hands. “The boss says so.”
“That’s right, I do,” Trevor chimed in as he strode into the disarray of the kitchen. He slid his arms around Sophie’s waist and kissed her so lingeringly Claire had to look away. “Sweetheart, I need to borrow you for a couple minutes. Marcus and I were trying to arrange the furniture in the bedroom, but I’m afraid we weren’t very successful. Come tell me where things belong.”
He grabbed Sophie’s hand and began tugging her from the room. Sophie rolled her eyes at Claire. “Men. I have no idea how they’d live without us.”
Marcus pretended to shudder. “I don’t even want to think about a world without women.”
Undoubtedly, the man had several hanging after him at any given moment and wouldn’t have to worry about a world without women any time soon.
“Me neither,” Trevor said softly, giving Sophie a look of naked adoration.
God, Claire didn’t think there had ever been a time when anyone looked at her like that, let alone her husband. Not to mention the father of her child.
Sophie and Trevor disappeared from the kitchen, leaving Claire alone with Marcus.
“It’s almost disgusting, isn’t it?” Marcus asked, cutting into Claire’s thoughts.
Her gaze flew to him. “What is?”
Marcus shot her a smirk as he bent to cut open a box with the scissors Sophie had left behind. “Our little love birds. What else?”
Claire’s smiled turned wry. “All these boxes, maybe?”
“That too.” He pulled out some drinking glasses and began stocking the cabinet behind him. “At least I just brought in the last of them.”
“Small favors,” Claire said, bending down to unpack some dinner plates.
“I told Trevor he’s used up his one free move,” Marcus murmured.
She raised a brow. “His one free move?”
Marcus nodded, a glint sparking in his eyes. “Each friend gets one free move at the beginning of a friendship. If they move more than once, they owe you something.”
Claire laughed at that. “Like what?”
He thought for a moment. “Free beer. Maybe a favor. Depends on how much of a pain in the ass the second move is.”
She sighed, thinking of a frosty bottle of Corona with lime jammed in the neck. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a beer.”
Marcus gave a shout of laughter, eying her from head to toe. “You drink beer?”
“Don’t sound so skeptical.” She crossed her arms and frowned at him. “Of course I do.”
He grinned. “You just don’t look like the type, I guess.”
She patted her belly. “Give me some time and then you can take me out and I’ll prove it to you.”
Marcus turned serious, his gaze becoming intense on hers. “I’d like to take you out a lot sooner than that.”
Claire’s stomach dropped. What? Had he just said he wanted to go out with her? A pregnant, not-quite-divorced woman he barely knew?
Marcus laughed softly. “Don’t look so surprised. I figure I can use all the friends I can get. I like you. Don’t look at me like that. Sophie told me about everything.”
“Did she tell you about the baby’s father?” Claire asked, not wanting to mislead him in any way.
He nodded, crossing the room to stand before her. “From what I hear, he’s a real asshole.”
A laugh she couldn’t quite squelch left her lips. “That’s one way to describe him.”
A strand of hair came loose from her ponytail and Marcus reached out to tuck it behind her ear. The pleasant scent of his aftershave teased her senses. His fingers brushed against her jaw so fleetingly she might have imagined it.
She saw a flicker of awareness in his eyes and realized that the impossible was happening. This man might actually be attracted to her. To five months pregnant, no makeup on at all, life an utter mess Claire Morton. Impossible. She didn’t know what to do, what to say. It was too soon.
Marcus tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans, stepping back abruptly as though sensing her discomfort. A crooked grin tugged at his lips. “So what do you say to lunch? Take me away from all this.”
“Lunch?” she echoed stupidly.
“I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” He winked, looking boyishly charming and utterly irresistible. “Falls between breakfast and supper. You eat it?”
“Very funny.” She tapped him lightly on the arm, noticing how firm it was beneath his long-sleeve shirt. “I know what lunch is, Marcus. I just didn’t know if I should sneak out on Trevor and Sophie.”
Marcus shot her a look. “Believe me. They won’t be coming out of that bedroom for, oh, I’d say a good hour, hour and a half. They’ll never even know the difference.”
“Marcus.”
He shrugged, putting on a mask of innocence. “What? I meant that it will take them that long to decide where the furniture should go. What did you think I meant?”
She bit her lip, aware that she was blushing furiously, as ridiculous as that seemed. The man had a certain knowing way of looking at a woman that reduced her to a stammering, blushing tween.
Marcus wagged a finger at her. “Naughty mind. Very naughty mind. I’m shocked, in fact.”
“Ha.” Claire found her tongue. “I find it hard to believe anything would shock you.”
He raised a brow at her. “Is that a challenge?”
She was instantly wary. “No.”
“I think it was.” He shook his head. “No backing out of it now.”
“I can hardly back out of a challenge if there was no challenge to begin with,” she pointed out dryly.
“Ah,” he said quickly, “but there was one. I distinctly heard it. Now you have to try to shock me.”
She gave him a measuring stare. “I don’t think I could.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself. You might be surprised.”
“All right,” she decided, feeling bold. “I’ll go to lunch with you.”
He winked. “I knew you’d see things my way.”
Claire sent him a look. “I’m sure most women do.”
They had lunch at a quaint little café not fifteen minutes from Sophie and Trevor’s house. Marcus drove them, since he claimed he wanted to familiarize himself with the area more. Now that Sophie and Trevor had taken up permanent residence here in rural Pennsylvania, Marcus would have to make the nearly three-hour drive here from New York City fairly often.
Claire sat across from him now, toying with the grilled chicken on her plate. She’d initially been starved, but the baby had shifted, making her stomach get awfully small awfully quickly. It felt as if there was no room. She sipped at her lemonade and considered Marcus.
“So what do you think of Pennsylvania?” she asked. “It must seem terribly boring for you.”
Marcus paused in the midst of cutting his steak. “It’s not bad. I’m actually starting to like it, I think.”
“Really?”
One black brow rose. “If this is your attempt at shocking conversation, Claire, I have to say I’m rather disappointed.”
“I never agreed to your silly little stipulation,” she reminded him pointedly.
“I’m wounded.” The look he sent her of jaded amusement said he was anything but. “You should know that nothing I have is silly. Or little, for that matter.”
She laughed at his outrageousness. “You’re going to make me blush again.”
He cocked his head to one side and considered her. “God, I hope so. You get this really adorable look on your face when you blush.”
Adorable? The man thought she was adorable?
She sighed. If only she’d found a man like Marcus instead of a difficult, emotionally challenged, arrogant man like Logan.
“Well?” Marcus gave her an expectant look.
“Well, what?” Claire asked, dumbfounded.
“I’m waiting for the shocking talk.” He flashed her a dazzling smile. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided to be a chicken.”
“I had chicken for lunch,” she reasoned. “I might as well be one.”
“And you aren’t even finishing it,” he observed. “Is there something wrong with it? I know you can’t possibly be full. I’ve seen your sister in action.”
“Believe it or not, I am. The baby’s squishing my stomach.”
“Rude of him. Or her. Do you know if the baby is a boy or a girl?” he asked, looking genuinel
y interested.
She shook her head. “The doctor asked if we wanted to know at my last checkup, and we decided we didn’t. I like the idea of a surprise.”
“So the baby’s father is involved in the pregnancy then?” Marcus took a sip of his drink as he awaited her answer.
Claire considered her answer. “Sort of. He and I tried to make things work, but…I don’t know. I think we’re too different. Basically at this point, he comes to my doctor appointments.”
“I hope I’m not prying.” Marcus looked chagrined. “Trevor always tells me I’m too damn curious for my own good. Feel free to tell me to stuff it and get lost at any time.”
“Not at all,” Claire assured him. Talking with Marcus felt natural, not at all forced. She liked him very much, in fact. “My life is hardly a secret.”
“I’ll make it up to you. Ask me anything you’d like.”
“Okay.” She paused and racked her brain. “How is the gallery?” Marcus co-owned a New York art gallery with Trevor, but these days, Marcus did most of the managing. Trevor only ventured to the city once or twice a week.
He gave her a pointed look. “That’s not a very personal question.”
“But one I want to know the answer to.”
“It’s doing well. Your sister’s paintings are still wildly popular. We can’t keep them on the walls. Other than that, it’s fairly boring. We have the usual clientele, interior decorators, hyphenated society people. You know the drill.”
“Hyphenated society people?” Claire couldn’t resist asking.
Marcus nodded, chewing a mouthful of steak before continuing. “People with old money and hyphenated names.”
Claire laughed. “I see.”
“Aha. You’re getting that glazed-over look in your eyes.” He made a show of peering intently into her face. “I told you my work is boring. You’re about to take a nap right here at the table. Next question.”
Next question? Well, the man certainly had honed demanding into an art form. He was second only to Logan.
Damn. She’d promised herself to stop thinking about Logan. That had to have been at least the fourth time she’d thought of him today.
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