But still, she deepened the kiss, savoring the taste of him for as long as she could.
* * *
A little over a month had passed since the island trip, and now Jake was meeting Garrett for a drink at the LA-area resort Garrett owned. The main building was a grand hotel, with a view of the Pacific Ocean. To the west of it, along the boardwalk, were private condos. Guests could stay at either type of accommodation, depending on their needs.
On this crisp, clear afternoon, a group of people were horseback riding along the shore. Garrett was a horseman who’d built a fancy stable on the property for himself as much as for his guests. In fact, he lived on the premises, near the stables, in a custom-built house on a cliff above the beach.
Jake entered the hotel, his thoughts scattered. He was supposed to be concentrating on a fund-raiser that was in the works for their foundation, but he kept thinking about Carol instead.
She’d called in sick four times this week. That wasn’t like her. She rarely, if ever, missed work. She did seem ill, though. The last time he’d seen her, she looked tired and pale. But Jake wasn’t sure if it was physical or emotional.
Being around each other was becoming increasingly difficult, even with the amount of time that had passed since Lena’s party. They did the best they could, but it was awkward, with both of them overcompensating for the heat that still sizzled between them. He wasn’t sure what was worse: being alone at the office with her or having other people around. Either way, he was feeling the pressure, and so was she.
Was it the stress that was making her sick? He wouldn’t be surprised if it was. But at this point he didn’t know what to do about it other than urge her to see a doctor, if she hadn’t done that already.
He was concerned that if it continued for much longer she was going to find herself another job, one that didn’t include an ex-lover as her boss.
Then what would he do? How would he replace her? Carol was an asset to his company...and to him. She understood him. She knew what made him tick. But maybe it would be better if she left, if they didn’t have to see each other every day. No, he thought. He didn’t want to lose her, not like this.
“Hey! Where are you going?”
Jake spun around and saw that he’d just walked right past Garrett in the front lobby bar. Cripes, he didn’t even realize what he was doing.
“Sorry. I just—” Rather than try to explain, Jake finished with, “Need a beer.”
“Me, too.” Garrett motioned to a table that had been reserved for them.
They sat down, and a spunky little blonde came by to take their orders. They both chose bottled Mexican beer. Normally, Jake would have checked out the waitress or at least smiled at her in his usual flirtatious way, but he was too preoccupied with thoughts of Carol to behave like his old self. Garrett seemed the same as usual, except maybe a bit more uptight.
Not that he was a stick in the mud. Garrett Snow was a great guy, just in a strong-willed way. He didn’t take any crap from anyone, and he didn’t party or play the field the way Jake did, either. Garrett had always been a one-woman kind of man. He was also organized and focused. He preferred to do things himself, barely needing a secretary or assistant. Jake couldn’t fathom it. Carol was the most important person in his employ.
The beers arrived and Jake swigged his first. He glanced around, taking in the decor, with its rich, dark woods, painted details and Native American accents. Garrett was a mixed-blood from the Cheyenne Nation, sired by an Anglo father he’d never known.
“You look like you have a lot on your mind,” Garrett said, reaching for his beer.
“Yeah, I do. I don’t know if I’m going to be much good today, finalizing the fund-raiser stuff.”
Garrett sat back in his chair. He was tall and broad, with deep-set eyes, short black hair and hard-edged features. He squinted a lot, just as he was doing now. “We can work on it another day.”
“Really?” Jake was surprised. His foster brother rarely pushed business aside. “You’d be cool with that?”
“I have things on my mind, too.”
Curious, Jake leaned forward. “Like what?”
Garrett didn’t respond. He didn’t alter his posture, either. He remained as he was, seated far back in his chair, his eyes narrowed. He looked like the hero of an old Western B movie, a half-breed cowboy, preparing to fight the bad guys and clean up the town.
Finally he said, “The woman who ripped us off will be coming up for parole this year.”
Ah, so that was it, Jake thought. Garrett had Meagan Quinn on his mind. The seemingly nice girl who’d embezzled money from them. She used to work for the accounting firm that Garrett, Max and Jake used, gaining access to their financial records and dipping her hands into the pie.
Jake was the most forgiving, of course. He knew what it was like to steal. “She’s serving her time. She’s paying her debt to society.”
“Yes, but she still has to pay her debt to us.”
That was true. As a stipulation of her sentence, Meagan had been ordered to pay restitution to her victims. The money she’d taken wasn’t an astronomical amount, at least not by their standards. But it was still a crime. And it had still pissed them off, especially Garrett, maybe even more than it should have.
Jake took another swig of his beer. “Doesn’t she have to get a verified job offer before she can get paroled? Isn’t that one of the terms of her release?”
“Yeah, and my do-gooder mother wants me to offer her a job, here at the resort.”
Holy cow. If Jake hadn’t been so shocked, he might’ve laughed. Regardless, he still cracked a joke. “Doing what? Working the front desk so she can get your guests’ credit card numbers and go on a shopping spree?”
“That isn’t funny.”
“Yes, it is. I mean, seriously, what the hell is your mom thinking?”
“She’s thinking that I’ll be able to give an ex-con a fresh start at a new life. Of course, the parole commission would have to approve her working for me, but since the restitution she owes would be going to our foundation, they’d probably agree to it.”
Jake nodded. An arrangement had already been made with the court for the money to be donated to their charity, instead of being paid to them. Garrett had taken care of that when he’d attended Meagan’s sentencing. Neither Jake nor Max had made an appearance. They’d trusted Garrett to represent them.
“Mom’s got it in her head that I need to do this, as much for the thief as myself.”
“A little forgiveness wouldn’t hurt.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see.” Garrett chugged his drink, then set the bottle down with a thud. After a moment of silence, he asked, “So what’s going on with you?”
Well, shit. Now Jake had to spill his guts, too. Only, he couldn’t admit that he’d slept with Carol. He’d promised to keep their affair on the down-low once they got home, and that included not blabbing to his foster brothers about it.
“I’m just worried about Carol,” he said.
Garrett’s expression softened. “Your assistant? How so?”
“She’s been sick this week.”
A frown appeared on Garrett’s face. “How sick?”
“I don’t know. She just seems run-down, I guess.”
“Then give her some time to recover.”
“Maybe I should stop by her place to check on her.”
“Sure, you could do that. But you should probably call first.”
“Or text,” Jake said, recalling the texts that had led to their first night together. “I just want to know that she’s going to be okay.”
“You’re really reliant on her, aren’t you?”
“She’s good at her job.” Hot and sexy in bed, too, he thought. And warm and sweet. Everything he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about.
But he couldn’t seem to let those images go, no matter how hard he tried. “I’ll text her after I finish my beer.”
“I’m getting another one.” Garrett lifted his empty bottle and signaled the waitress.
Jake wasn’t having another drink. He wanted to keep a clear head for when he saw Carol.
* * *
Jake rang Carol’s doorbell and shifted the bag in his hand. In his text, he’d offered to bring her some soup. It was as good an excuse as any to con his way over here. Besides, he knew how much she loved the matzo ball soup from a nearby deli.
She answered the door, looking even more exhausted than the last time he’d seen her at work. Dang, he thought. He’d hoped that her condition would be improving, not worsening.
After she invited him inside, he held up the soup. “Do you want this now?”
“Maybe a little. Thank you.” Carol took the bag and went into the kitchen. Jake waited at the entrance of the kitchen, watching her move about. She opened the container and poured some of the broth into a mug, then spooned a matzo ball into it. “There’s a lot here. Do you want a cup, too?”
“No, thanks.” Jake studied her more closely. She was wearing sweatpants and a blousy shirt, and her typically tidy hair was pulled up into a rooster-style ponytail, the ends poking out at feathery angles. In a more relaxed situation, the chaotic style would have amused him. But he was in no mood to smile.
She motioned to the living room, and he followed her to the sofa, where he sat beside her.
She tasted the soup. “It’s really good. Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome.” He paused before he continued, giving her time to eat a bit more of the soup. Then he asked, “Have you seen a doctor yet?”
She shook her head. “I wanted to wait until...”
Jake frowned. “Until what?”
“I was ready.”
That made absolutely no sense to him. “You’ve been sick for almost a week.”
“I’ll make an appointment if I need to.”
“I think you need to now.”
She put her mug on the coffee table. “Let me handle my own business, Jake.”
“I’m just worried is all.”
“I’ll be fine.”
She didn’t look fine. Not in the least. He’d never seen her in such a fragile state before.
“I started on the quilt I promised to make for you,” she said, changing the subject. “But it’s slow going.”
“You’ve been sewing?”
“No. But I cut the squares from the different fabrics. Or most of them. I still need to order a few more.” She glanced toward a basket in the corner of the room where the fabrics were. “You can look at what’s there so far, if you want.”
He went ahead and checked it out, curious to see what patterns she’d chosen. But that didn’t mean he was going to let her get away with ignoring her health issues. He intended to work their conversation back to that. But first, he retrieved the basket and brought it over to the sofa.
He looked through the squares. There were a variety of fabrics, most of them containing the beach themes he’d suggested, with depictions of mermaids, sandcastles and islands on them. She’d even tossed in some printed with blue crabs. There was also a multicolored print that had the same jewel tones as the bracelet he’d given her. She’d included a shiny starfish pattern for the earrings, too. He noticed a geometric Native American print as well, that he assumed was meant to represent him and his heritage. He kept looking and uncovered a stack of squares with grasshoppers on them.
“For Eskeilay,” she said. Then softly added, “The mother of the earth-womb.”
“You did a beautiful job with what you chose.” He wished that he could touch her, hold her, make her feel better, but he figured the last thing she wanted was for him to take her in his arms.
“I plan to include something for Uncta, too. A fire print of some sort, something with a golden hue. That’s one of the fabrics I still have to order.”
“I appreciate your attention to detail.” To the memories they’d created, even if neither of them had spoken of that weekend since.
“I don’t know when I’ll finish it.”
To him, it sounded as if she had mixed feelings about whether to complete it at all. She’d probably only brought it up as a diversion to keep him from bugging her about going to the doctor.
Jake put the basket aside, refusing to let her off the hook. He asked, “Are you ill because of me?”
She had a worried expression. “What?”
He clarified his question. “Is being around me too stressful?”
She twisted her hands on her lap. “Sort of, I guess. Not wanting to face you is part of the reason I’ve been calling in sick.”
“You’re facing me now. You agreed to let me come over.”
“I knew I couldn’t avoid you forever. And it is a little easier seeing you here than at the office. But I still don’t want to talk about it. Not until I see a doctor, and I already told you, I’m not ready to do that.”
He pushed the issue, determined to get answers. “Please, Carol, just tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s too soon to tell you.”
“Too soon for what?” He noticed that she was still wringing her hands. “I’m not leaving here until you level with me.”
Her breath rushed out. “Okay, but it’s going to freak you out.” She looked directly at him, her voice quavering. “I’m scared, Jake. Scared to death that I might be pregnant.”
Nine
Carol waited for Jake to respond. But he just sat there staring at her. Was he struggling to grasp what she’d just told him? Or was he simply too stunned to move? To blink? To talk?
After what seemed like forever, he said, “That’s impossible.”
“In what way?” she asked, prodding him to explain what he was thinking and feeling.
“We used protection.” He spoke robotically, like a computer stating a fact. Or someone who refused to believe what he was hearing.
“Condoms sometimes fail.” She’d checked the failure rates and the numbers were staggering. “Mostly from them breaking or slipping off.”
“But that didn’t happen to us.”
“No, but I might have damaged the first one. With as much as I fumbled with it, I could have poked a tiny hole in it. Or the failure could have come from the last one we used. Remember how the edges of the packet were bent from the way it had been stuck in your suitcase? The condom itself could have been compromised without us even knowing it.”
Jake stood and stepped away from the sofa, pressing his back against the fireplace mantel. He was beginning to look like a caged animal. Carol knew exactly how he felt.
“Then I guess it is possible,” he said.
“Yes, it is.” Her voice vibrated with every breath she took. She’d never expected to be in this position, possibly impregnated by a man who didn’t want children. “Last week, I thought I had my period, but it was weird. First of all, it was early and that’s never happened to me before.” Normally her cycles were like clockwork. “And it only lasted a few hours, which was even weirder.” She hated to share all of the clinical details, but considering how crucial this was, it seemed necessary. “It was more like spotting than a full period.”
“I’m confused.” His voice was shaky, too. He even cleared his throat, as if it might help. “That isn’t an early sign of pregnancy, is it?”
“Actually, it is. But I wasn’t aware of it until I looked up my symptoms online. At first I thought I was getting a virus based on how run-down I was feeling. Then when my period seemed irregular, I got a little worried and researched what could’ve caused that. And that’s when I came across something called implantation bleeding. It’s just like what I had. It’s a resu
lt of the fertilized egg attaching itself to the wall of the uterus. It typically happens two to seven days before the beginning of what would be your regular menstrual cycle. In my case, it’s been about six days. My period is due tomorrow.”
He looked relieved—not completely, but at least his body language wasn’t quite as tense. “Then maybe it’ll start and everything will be okay. Maybe you’ll begin to feel better, too.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. That’s why I didn’t want to take a pregnancy test or go to a doctor yet, either.”
He wrinkled his forehead. “Can a test even be taken this early?”
Carol nodded. “Yes, but I wanted to wait, just to see if my period comes first. Besides, early tests aren’t always accurate.” She reached for her soup, needing fuel, so she cut into the matzo ball and ate a portion of that. “I haven’t been queasy, so that’s a good sign. Mostly my symptoms are lack of energy and light-headedness. It might just be stress. Sometimes women’s menstrual cycles can get disrupted by that.”
He relaxed a bit more, moving away from the mantel. “Then that’s probably what it is. It seems the most likely culprit. Even I figured that’s what was wrong with you and why you’re not feeling well. That’s why I came over here to question you about it.”
“I appreciate your concern.” She hadn’t wanted to see him until after she knew for sure, but she was glad that she’d gotten it over with. “If my cycle starts tomorrow, we’re in the clear. But if it doesn’t...”
He tugged at his hair, hard enough to create a grimace. “Pregnancy never even occurred to me.”
“Me, neither, until all of this blew up in my face.” She wanted to pull her hair out, too.
“If you don’t start your period, how long are you going to wait before you take a test?”
“I don’t know. A few days, maybe. I don’t want to sit around on pins and needles, but I don’t want to get a false reading, either.” She was just hoping and praying that her cycle showed up. “I could go to the doctor to get a blood test. Those give you an earlier reading. But it takes longer to get the results than a urine test, so I’d have to wait, either way. I doubt my doctor would rush the results of a blood test for me.”
Waking Up with the Boss Page 9