Chapter 8
She would have to do some major shopping soon, Mira decided, as she stood in front of her open closet. Her once extensive wardrobe had been decimated. She had sold it off piece by piece first to help see her through her time of unemployment and, later, to help finance her move across the country. The loss of each carefully selected piece had been a small pain because it had felt like she was letting go of a lifestyle that she had worked hard to build. Now, all that was left of her once expensive collection was her blue Armani, the red suit, a few mix and match pieces, and a killer sheath dress.
Her hormones urged her to choose the dress. It was royal purple, a color that complemented both her eyes and her hair. In design it was quite sedate with long sleeves that ended in a point, a demure neckline, and a hem that came down to just above her knees. When she moved however, it clung to her like a lover, first revealing and then concealing her curves.
It might be decent, she tried to convince the logical part of her brain, if paired with a fitted jacked and, maybe, a belt. After a minute or two of debate she sighed loudly and gave up. It would never be appropriate office attire. The dress went back in the closet and she pulled out a pair of tailored black slacks and a button-down dress shirt in dark blue.
She pulled them on and glanced in the mirror. It was a good alternative to the sexy dress. In the closet the outfit had looked kind of mannish and severe, but on her it was anything but. The pants were tailored to her body, emphasizing the curve of her hips and subtly clinging to her rear. When she had worn them to her previous job they had never failed to elicit at least one admiring comment or slow whistle.
She turned her head and glanced at the clock. Damn it! She was going to be late on her first day. Thank God she had already done her makeup and hair. She quickly slipped into a pair of black heels and rushed down the stairs. On her way past the kitchen she glanced longingly at the coffee maker. No time now, it would have to wait till she got to work. She grabbed her keys and her purse and ran out the door.
The first day at any new job was always nerve-wracking, Mira thought as she pulled into the parking lot and climbed out, but this was extreme. She hadn’t felt this nervous since she had walked onto that construction site almost 15 years ago and tried to make a 22-year-old James see her as something more than a child. It was ridiculous that, at 29, she could still feel that sick, fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach at the thought of seeing him. She was a beautiful, successful, mature woman now and not an emotional, overweight, hormonal pre-teen. Well not an overweight pre-teen anyway. She would handle this. She paused briefly to compose herself and opened the glass doors.
It was a bit of a letdown to see Mary Beecham waiting for her and James nowhere in sight. Fighting her disappointment, she pasted a smile on her face and followed Mary to the door of the large room that contained the creative department of EcoSpace.
The space was airy and open with workspaces only separated by what furniture the employees deemed necessary. A line of windows covered one wall and each work area had its own, adjustable lights. There was a seating area to one side of the long room with a soft, cream colored sofa and two matching armchairs surrounding a low coffee table. Snack machines and a coffee cart sat against an adjacent wall.
When Mira saw this last item, she nearly wept with relief.
“Would you like me to fix a cup for you?” Mary asked wryly.
“Is it that obvious?” she asked with a self-deprecating smile. “I was running late this morning and didn’t have time. I don’t mind making my own coffee though if you show me where everything is.”
“Nonsense.” She patted Mira on the shoulder in a motherly gesture. “You just have a seat and I’ll fix it for you.” She walked over to the cart and lifted the carafe. “How do you like your coffee?”
“One sugar and a drop of cream please.”
“You know you aren’t actually late,” Mary explained. “As I’m sure you noticed no one is here yet.” She swept a bangled arm out, encompassing the whole room. “The creative team doesn’t come in until 8:30 on Monday morning. Since it doesn’t hurt anything and makes them happy, Mr. Kelly allows it. As long as you do a good job for him, he can be quite accommodating.”
Mira hid a smile behind the Styrofoam cup that Mary handed her. It would be nice if he was that malleable and accommodating to her wishes. As it was she wasn’t even sure he was even mildly attracted to her. The door opened and she mentally prepared herself, expecting to see James. Four strangers walked in, two women and two men, and she deflated.
A small, vibrant woman with spiky black hair walked up to her and held out a ringed hand. “I’m Amy,” she said forthrightly. “And this is Amanda.” She pointed to a tall, auburn haired woman standing behind her. “This is Stephen.” He was a slightly pudgy middle-aged man with a trimmed mustache and slicked black hair. “And last but not least, Barry Sims, creative director extraordinaire and warden for this motley crew.”
“I’m not that bad,” Barry said with a smile. He reached out and shook Mira’s hand firmly. “I have been privileged to see some of your work and we’re very glad to have you here. If you want to bring your coffee, I have some paperwork for you to fill out,” he continued. “And then we can get started. There are two more members of our team, Julie and Matt, who will be in later,” he added as he walked past the workspaces.
Mira followed him into an office at the back of the long room. Her new boss looked more like a retired football player or a military man with his muscular build, close-cropped black hair and commanding aura, but he seemed to be a pleasant sort.
Chapter 9
It had been three days since Mira had started working at EcoSpace and she had yet to talk to James. If it weren’t for the fact that other employees had both seen him and apparently conversed with him, she would think that he was just a product of her overheated imagination. For some reason he seemed to be avoiding her. If she needed to talk to him, he was busy. If she entered a room, he was just leaving. It was getting damn frustrating. At this rate they would never develop any sort of relationship, even a working one.
That would all end today, Mira vowed, as she drove up to the office at the ungodly hour of 6:00 a.m. It was so early that she had to get the night watchman to let her in. Walking into the studio and hearing her footsteps echo throughout the empty room was a little creepy, but, she told herself staunchly, she would feel better once she turned on some lights and put on the coffee.
An hour and a half later she was sitting at her table with her third cup of coffee next to her right elbow. She was working on a design for an upscale community that would be built at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The area was breathtakingly beautiful and it was a prime real estate, but the company wanted the place to include a full golf course and clubhouse as well as designer homes. In addition, they wanted it to look like it had sprung from the soil ready-made and they also wanted the construction to do as little damage as possible done to the natural environment. It was an interesting task, but a frustrating one. Right now it was giving her a headache. She laid down her pencil and rubbed her neck, trying to ease some of the tension that resided there.
“John mentioned that he had let an employee into the building early this morning, but I was expecting to see Barry. He likes to get an early start. What are you doing here, Mira?”
The question was vaguely accusatory.
Startled, Mira jumped up and swung around to face the doorway. She had been so caught up in her work that she hadn’t even heard the door open. So much for a good impression. She would become the epitome of smooth sophistication, she vowed, just as soon as she could get her heart to slow down.
“No answer?” James stifled a chuckle. She looked like a startled doe trapped in the glare of oncoming headlights — her eyes wide and frightened. He had been carefully avoiding her since she had started work, hoping his original fascination would fade, but it hadn’t. Obviously, it hadn’t been long enough so he should
turn around and leave. She wasn’t answering, though, and he was starting to get concerned. “Are you ok?” he asked, keeping his voice as gentle as possible. She looked ready to bolt at any moment.
“Fine, I’m fine,” Mira replied. Her voice was still a little thready so she took a couple of deep breaths and tried to calm down. “It’s just, um... I didn’t hear you come in. You scared me.”
James moved away from the doorway and stepped slowly into the room. When he had walked past earlier and seen Mira, hard at work with a little frown between her eyes and her hair already mussed, he hadn’t intended to stop. His decision to hire her had been based on excellent qualifications and, even then, he almost hadn’t because of the reaction that he had to her. She could possibly threaten all of his hard-won control. He had vowed then to stay far away from her. Something about her posture, however, had hinted at some underlying vulnerability and, despite his intentions, he found himself being drawn forward.
The air seemed to heat as James came toward her and Mira picked up a piece of discarded paper to fan herself. She checked the telling motion just in time and quickly set it back down. He’s just a man like any other, she sternly told herself, nothing special. Yeah right, her mind taunted, and the moon was just another big wheel of cheese. She smiled briefly at the silly thought. Who was she trying to kid? He wasn’t normal in any way. She had been in love with James Kelly since childhood. But this man, she cautioned herself as her heartbeat picked up, wasn’t the same. She didn’t know this hard, distant, person that he had become so only time would tell if he was still worthy of that love.
“What is it that you are working on so intently?” James leaned over her shoulder to study her drawing. Her lines were smooth and flowing and the sketch evoked a sense of peaceful tranquility. He turned his head slightly with some idea of complimenting her work, but her scent distracted him. She didn’t smell like any of the woman he knew with their strong perfumes masking any natural scent. She smelled like herself, a combination of baby powder, lilac scented soap, and some underlying fragrance that he couldn’t define, but that stirred his senses. He leaned forward and sniffed surreptitiously.
He was standing way too close and it was getting difficult to breathe, Mira’s brain shouted frantically. All she could think about, though, was how near this mouth was to her neck. All he had to do was step forward and they would be touching. The notion sent tingles shooting throughout her body. He had asked some kind of question, she realized distantly, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what it was.
The front door shut and they could hear the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. James jumped back mere seconds before Barry Sims walked into the room.
“Good morning folks,” Barry said in a loud, jocular voice. He strode across the room, swinging a briefcase at his side, and stopped next to James. “We don’t usually see you in this part of the building, boss. Is there something we can do for you?”
James cleared his throat and tried to clear his head. “There’s something that we need to discuss, Barry. I’ll see you in my office.” After a quick glance at Mira, he strode swiftly out of the room.
Barry looked at Mira and shrugged his shoulders before turning and following James out the door. Mira was left alone in a room that suddenly seemed empty. She hoped they weren’t discussing her, at least not negatively. James had spent much too long studying her work.
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By noon Mira was starving. She had grabbed a strawberry Pop-Tart before going out, but hadn’t eaten anything else since then and all the coffee she had consumed this morning was making her stomach jittery. It was time for lunch.
She turned from her work and looked across the room at Amy Fairchild. The short, black haired woman was staring vacantly at a computer screen while chewing on the end of a pencil. The 28-year-old’s irreverent sense of humor, outrageous wardrobe, and free-spirited outlook toward men — she changed boyfriends almost as often as she changed hair color — made her an amusing and interesting companion. She could do with some of that liveliness today, Mira thought.
Amy jolted when Mira tapped her on the shoulder and spun her chair around. The pencil fell from her mouth and rolled across the floor.
“I was going to ask if you wanted to get something to eat,” Mira quipped, “but it looks like you already have.” She glanced down at the gnawed on pencil that had come to rest against her feet.
“This,” Amy replied as she bent down to retrieve the pencil, “is just an appetizer. I’m ready for lunch and, besides, the computer is starting to fry my brain. Let’s get out of here.” She stood up and powered down the computer.
“I don’t understand why you insist on working on that thing,” Mira said as they headed toward the front door. “Working on paper gives you much more creative freedom and it doesn’t strain your eyes.”
“I like my computer. What's more, I work on practical buildings not those fanciful pieces of whimsy that you’re always working on. Oomph,” she said as a woman ran straight into her.
“Watch where you’re going, little toad,” the tall, blond woman sneered.
Completely ignoring the fact that she had caused the collision, she patted her sleek hair and ran her glacial blue eyes scornfully over Amy’s blue and green plaid skirt, knee high boots, and emerald toned blouse. “I see you haven’t developed any fashion sense since I last saw you,” she taunted.
“Hello Kimberly. It doesn’t look like you’ve developed any class since I last saw you.” Amy glanced disparagingly at the plunging neckline of the woman’s undoubtedly expensive silk dress.
“James happens to like this dress,” Kimberly pouted. Lightning swift, she turned and focused her laser eyes on Mira. “Who are you?” she demanded.
“Mira Anders.” Deciding it was more polite to play nice, at least at first, Mira held out her hand. The other woman took it gingerly and, after a perfunctory shake, pulled back as if afraid she would catch something.
“Wait a second,” Kimberly said derisively, obviously not willing to give Mira the same courtesy that she had received. “I recognize you. Aren’t you the woman who was forced to quit her job after your boss’ wife found out he was sleeping with you?” Her voice was alight with malicious glee.
“No,” Mira corrected calmly. “I’m the employee who was fired from her job for testifying against her boss when he tried to commit fraud.” It was ridiculous what people believed, she fumed, especially when their information came from seedy tabloids.
“Oh you poor dear,” the woman gushed crooned with fake sweetness. “You look like you could use a friend and I would love to hear the whole sad story.”
More likely, Mira seethed, she just wanted to hear some juicy gossip that she could distort and spread around. There was no way. She hardened her gaze and remained silent.
When she realized that she wouldn’t get anything out of Mira, Kim’s eyes suddenly narrowed and she switched direction, eying her with undisguised suspicion. “You had better not try to steal James. He’s mine.” She looked down her patrician nose. “We’re getting married,” she informed both women haughtily.
“Is that what he says or just what your deluded imagination came up with?” Amy asked snidely.
Kim frowned deeply and opened her mouth to reply when James strolled into the lobby. Her face suddenly cleared and she plastered a sickeningly sweet smile on her face.
“There you are James,” she purred. “I just had the most interesting conversation with your two lovely employees.”
James looked over at them. His eyes locked on Mira’s and stayed there.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Amy said.
“Thank you, Amy,” James mumbled, not knowing what she was talking about and not particularly caring. His hungry eyes never strayed from Mira’s face.
“Come on James. We’re going to miss our lunch reservation.” Kim’s slim hand locked around his wrist, her scarlet nails ma
king dents in his suit coat. She tugged.
James tore his eyes from Mira and looked vacantly at the woman standing next to him. For a second he couldn’t remember who she was. Then it hit him, Kimberly Roberts. The woman he had been seeing for four months. He glanced distastefully at her manicured hands, professionally done hair, and pouting red lips. Her father was a very influential businessman in the local area so he would have to be careful, but he thought it was about time that he broke it off. She was getting way too possessive.
“The restaurant isn’t going to give away our reservation, Kim,” he said. “I’ll be just a minute.” He turned with some idea of speaking to Mira, but both women were gone.
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“Married, Pat, she said married and your son didn’t refute it.” Mira clenched the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she worked on preparing a grilled chicken salad. A Clash CD played in the background, the gritty 70’s punk a perfect counterpoint to her restless mood.
“It’s nothing to be worrying about, darlin’,” Pat soothed. “Sure as faith, the lad will be seeing a different lass soon.”
“What! Are you saying that your son is a playboy?” She clenched her teeth and grabbed a knife to work on decimating the chicken that she had just removed from the pan.
“Ah, no. That’s no what I’m saying at all,” he hedged. “The lad just needs a good woman to settle him down.”
“And I’m that good woman?” Deciding that the chicken was done, she scooped it up and dumped it on top of her salad.
“Of course you are,” Pat replied cheerfully, completely ignoring her sarcasm. “You were always it for each other. Just like me lovely Fiona. I knew it the first time I saw her dance…”
Mira dribbled some Italian dressing on her salad. She sat it on the breakfast bar and grabbed a glass from the cupboard and a bottle of wine from the refrigerator. Pat droned on in her ear and she made appropriate ‘listening’ noises while she ate her dinner and mentally composed the week’s shopping list. Her cupboards were starting to look a bit empty.
Running from Fate Page 7