Claim Me Now (Heron Harbor Book 2)

by Lea Nolan

  By the time they’d finished bathing and grooming Brilla, Raven was soaked and covered in thousands of strands of black-and-gray dog hairs. The fur clung to her T-shirt and jeans, her neck, and arms, and she was pretty sure she’d inhaled a piece or two as well.

  For all her effort, Raven didn’t get so much as a wag from Brilla’s tail. But Jack was covered in kisses and lauded with approving barks. Fine, they could have each other. It was time for Raven and Jack to start their together-but-separate weekend anyway. After wrangling Brilla, she was exhausted. There was almost nothing more tempting than her bed and streaming queue.

  “I’m taking a shower,” Raven told Jack as she peeled the still wet T-shirt away from her sticky chest.

  “I’ll finish cleaning up. And . . . ” he paused.

  “What?”

  “I was thinking of making dinner. I know we said we’d go our separate ways after breakfast, and we’ve already violated that a couple of times over, but would you . . . like to join me?” Jack’s soulful brown eyes searched hers.

  And just like that, the exhaustion that had made her feel like her bones had been drained of their marrow disappeared. A boost of energy surged through her body. Screw her bed and streaming queue.

  She was hungry.

  Chapter 9

  If someone had told Jack three years ago that he’d not only learn to cook but actually enjoy doing it, he’d have laughed his ass off. Yet there he was, standing at the stove, finishing off a mushroom cream sauce as Brilla dozed by his feet.

  How fucking domestic.

  “It smells amazing in here,” Raven said when she entered the kitchen.

  God, she was a vision. Freshly showered, her hair was tied up, and the barest hint of makeup graced her gorgeous face. She was dressed in another sexy pair of jeans and a cherry red, V-neck sweater that set off her pink lips and deep brown eyes.

  “Thanks. It’s nearly finished.”

  “What is it?” Stepping close, Jack caught the scent of her lavender and vanilla perfume as she leaned toward the sauté pan and breathed deep. She smelled a thousand times better than anything in the pan.

  “Chicken à la cremini.”

  She let out a wistful sigh. “I don’t know how you can restrain yourself. I’d eat it right out of the pan.”

  Boy, did he wish he could act on his impulses, and he wasn’t talking about the food. But he and Raven had an agreement. Together-but-separate. He had to try to stay true to his word.

  The searing memory of their kiss last night wouldn’t stay tucked in the back of his mind. It kept rearing its sexy little head, reminding him of how blazing hot their connection was. Today’s togetherness didn’t help. The more time he spent with Raven, the more he wanted to spend with her.

  But that would defeat the purpose of his weekend. Because as much as this little break was meant to clear his head, it was also a penalty of sorts.

  He rapped the spoon against the side of the pan. “Patience. Why don’t you have some wine and set out some plates?”

  Raven poured herself a glass of nice white Burgundy he’d left on the counter, then set up two place settings at the kitchen table.

  When the meal was ready, he served them both, then sat next to her. Their closeness was comforting and oddly familiar. He and Raven hadn’t known each other a full twenty-four hours, yet it felt like so much more.

  Brilla tried to nudge her little dog body between their chairs.

  “This dog wants you all to herself,” Raven said.

  “Nah, you think?”

  Would Raven prefer to have him to herself?

  Brilla leaned her jaw against Jack’s shin.

  Raven laughed. “Gee, I don’t know.”

  “She just needs some love.” He leaned down and scratched the now-clipped fur around Brilla’s ears.

  “She can get it after we eat.” Raven looked down at the pushy little dog. “Brilla, you need to lay down.” She pointed to the thick blanket they’d folded to make a dog bed.

  The dog yapped an impudent response. Raven turned to Jack. “It’s a good thing she’s almost cute now.”

  Clearly, he needed to assert some authority. He deepened his voice. “Brilla. Go lay down.”

  The pup’s ears flattened, and her head sank low. She was in trouble, and she knew it. Reluctantly, Brilla slunk over to her cushy fleece blanket and plopped down with a sigh.

  “I almost feel bad now,” Raven said, covering her mouth, so she didn’t laugh.

  “Don’t be. I want us to enjoy this dinner.” He pointed his fork at her plate.

  Raven sliced into the chicken cutlet smothered in creamy mushroom sauce, then took a bite. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she chewed. “This is so good,” she said dreamily.

  “It’s okay,” Jack said.

  She cut a second piece. “It’s better than okay. It’s fantastic. How did you learn to cook like this?”

  “It’s a meal kit.”

  “Shut up!”

  He laughed. “Seriously. There’s a bunch of them in the refrigerator. I’m a complete fraud.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “I don’t make up recipes. I get a box in the mail with ingredients and instructions. It’s paint-by-numbers with food.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t undersell yourself. You put them together correctly. I’m sure there are plenty of people who screw up those instructions. And lots of idiots who leave out or add other ingredients that have no business being in the dish.”

  Jack shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Definitely.”

  “I do like it, though. Cooking for myself.” He dredged a piece of chicken through the creamy sauce, then took a bite.

  “I usually get takeout. It’s so much easier. And no cleanup.” She sipped her wine.

  “I did that a lot after my divorce. But after a while it felt kind of . . . I don’t know.”

  He knew exactly how it felt. Sad. Lonely. Like he was a loser who’d gotten married for the wrong reasons. So he spent more nights than he cared to admit with vapid women who wanted him for his money, status, and body but didn’t give a shit about who he was, simply for the supposed pleasure of their company. He couldn’t say all that out loud to an almost stranger.

  “How long ago was the divorce, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Jack took a drink of wine. “A little over three years. Feels like ancient history. Funny how something that was once so important isn’t anymore.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “How did someone like you avoid falling into the marriage trap?”

  “It’s easier than you’d imagine.” She left so many words unspoken.

  After an awkward beat, he drew a deep inhale. “Well, how did we get from meal kits to marriage?”

  She chuckled. “I have no idea. But after eating this, I can definitely see the appeal of a home-cooked meal.”

  “It’s especially nice after I’ve been on the road a lot for work.”

  “What is it that you do?” Raven asked. “Lark said you’re a numbers and money guy. And something about being an efficiency expert.”

  He chuckled. “It figures that’s what she heard. I work for Winthrop Financial Group.”

  Raven sat back on her stool. “That’s a big company.” He couldn’t tell from her expression if she was impressed.

  He nodded. “We’ve got lots of numbers and money.” But according to Beckett, it’d never be enough.

  “What do you do there?” Raven asked.

  “I’ve been there my whole career. I’ve worn a lot of hats.”

  “Which hat do you wear now?”

  He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Uh, currently, I assess companies’ values and make recommendations as to their outcomes.” That was close enough almost to be the truth. He didn’t want to discuss the ugly side of his work tonight.

  “And you don’t like this job.” It wasn’t a question.

  “What makes you say that?”

  She
raised her pointer finger to his face. “The little lines around your mouth. And the creased space between your eyes.”

  “I have lines around my mouth?”

  “And between your eyes. But only when you talk about your job. Which you apparently hate.”

  “I didn’t say I hate it.” Was this woman in his head? Because he didn’t remember inviting her in.

  Raven shrugged. “You haven’t said you love it.”

  “Does anyone love their job?”

  “I did. Maybe not every single aspect, but I really believed in what I was doing.” Genuine sadness settled on her face as she spun the stem of her wine glass between her fingers.

  Fuck. It’d been years since he’d loved his job. Back then, he was working on a special project for WFG’s real estate arm rehabbing derelict buildings and selling them as affordable housing for teachers, first responders, and other low-to-mid income public sector employees. It’d changed people's lives and garnered plenty of great press and goodwill for WFG— until Beckett tired of the effort and less-than-optimal returns and demanded its termination.

  Enough about his bullshit. He wanted to know about her. “What was your job? If you’re uncomfortable talking about it, don’t feel like you have to.”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s not your fault I got, um, separated from my recent employment. The best way to explain what I do is corporate rehab. If your company’s broken, I come fix it.”

  “So, you’re a fixer.” Jack had encountered tons of people like her, mostly consultants for big firms, some freelancers. A fair amount were bullshit artists willing to take an already desperate and failing company for a ride in exchange for a fat consulting check. Some fixers were truly talented geniuses who knew how to turn around a failing company and make it thrive.

  Raven nodded. “Yup.”

  “Who’ve you fixed?”

  “A lot of companies. Some I can’t mention for contractual reasons.” She tipped her glass and took a long swallow of wine.

  Was she being evasive, or just über confident? It was driving him nuts. “Really? It’s just . . . ”

  “I don’t look old enough,” she finished his sentence. “But I’m one of the youngest people ever to receive an MBA from Wharton Business School. I’ve been working in the field for more than a decade.”

  “Oh.” So she was smart. Really smart. Not that he doubted it for a second.

  Raven smiled. “I’m thirty-one. And you’re . . . ?”

  “Thirty-five.”

  She smirked. “You look it.”

  “Oh, wow. That hurt.” He clutched his chest.

  “Good. It serves you right for doubting me.”

  “I didn’t. Not really.” He glanced down at her empty plate. “Leave room for dessert? There’s a box of Tinks we could demolish.”

  She shot a longing glance at the mountain of candy on the opposite side of the kitchen, then shook her head. “I can’t.”

  Raven’s cell buzzed on the counter. She glared at the vibrating device. “That better not be one of my sisters checking up on me.” With a huff, she slid off the stool and crossed the room, still moving with a slight hitch in her gait. She unlocked her phone, and her face went pale. “I’m sorry. I need to make a call.”

  Mari’s text was loud and clear.

  Mari: FREAKING THE FREAK OUT. CALL ME ASAP. Please.

  Raven grabbed her coat, shoved her feet in her boots, then slipped out onto the deck, and shut the sliding door firmly behind her. The wind off the ocean was biting and smelled like rain. She dialed Mari’s number.

  “Oh my God, thank you for calling,” Mari sounded on the verge of tears.

  “Of course. What’s going on?” Raven asked.

  “They fired twenty percent of the staff.”

  “Oh, no.” Raven’s hand flew to her mouth. All those people. Where would they go now? How would they pay their bills?

  “And they’re changing all our benefits. They’re reducing the match for our 401Ks, health insurance will cost more, and they cut our dental and vision plans completely,” Mari added.

  Raven’s stomach twisted around the meal she’d just consumed. “I’m so sorry.”

  Unfortunately, that was the reality of business. Most corporate owners didn’t share Billy Paulson’s ethos. He was a relic of an earlier time when owners saw themselves and their employees as members of an interconnected community working together toward a common goal. Now, too often, employees were simply interchangeable parts to be used until they broke, then replaced.

  “But that’s not all. Tiffany emailed everyone saying we have to sign an NDA on Monday morning if we want to keep our jobs.”

  “Are you sure this went to all employees?” It was one thing to expect senior executives—those in a position to know extremely sensitive and highly proprietary information—to sign non-disclosure agreements but to demand that from the frontline and mid-level staff was controlling in the extreme.

  “Here’s what it says: ‘In case any of you think you’re being singled out, let me set you straight. NDAs will be expected of all current Paulson Diagnostics employees and any new hires going forward. We expect complete loyalty to the company, and this policy will ensure that we get it.’”

  “Holy shit. She’s gone full Darth Vader.” Raven paced the length of the deck, calculating the implications.

  “I’m surprised she didn’t mind-choke us all. Wait, maybe that’s what she’ll do if we break the NDA,” Mari said.

  Raven’s boots thunked against the deck planks as she analyzed the situation. “Tiffany didn’t do this on her own. I doubt she even knows what an NDA is. This was required by the new owner.”

  “But why? We never had to sign anything like this before, and the company did just fine,” Mari said.

  “That’s because Billy Paulson was a decent human being. My guess is the new owner is either up to some pretty shady stuff, or they’re extremely paranoid. Either way, it’s bad.”

  “No one’s going to want to deal with Tiffany now. If she doesn’t want her tires deflated every day, she better stay away from the office,” Mari said.

  If only it’d be that easy to get rid of her. Tiffany had gotten a taste of power and was hungry for more. She wasn’t about to let a few unruly employees get in her way. The only one who could get rid of Tiffany was her new partner.

  The pieces fell into place as Raven walked the length of the deck. “The whole point of having Tiffany send the message was to make her the bad guy, while the real overlord lurks in the shadows. It’s pretty genius, actually.”

  Mari drew a sharp inhale. “That’s so diabolical. So, what do I do?”

  “What do you want to do?” As much as Raven cared for Mari, she couldn’t make the tough choices for her.

  She sighed. “I want to come work for you.”

  If Raven could scoop Mari out of that hellhole right now, she would, but that wasn’t possible. “You know that can’t happen for at least a year. I’m bound by my non-compete.”

  “I know, but I can dream, right?” Mari offered a faint laugh.

  “Sure, but here in the real world, you have to decide what to do on Monday morning.”

  Mari groaned. “I can’t afford not to work for a year. I have to support my mom and brother and sisters.” Her voice was crammed with the frustration of stunted dreams and limited options.

  Mari was the eldest child of her immigrant family and the first to graduate from college. She’d had ambitions to go to law school and build a career improving the lives of other newly arrived Americans. But then her father had died a year before she graduated from college, and her mother’s complications from diabetes worsened, making it difficult for her to hold down a full-time job. Mari had become the primary breadwinner, and her dreams of law school withered. Now, her mother and siblings depended on her for their survival. Being unemployed wasn’t an option.

  “It looks like you’ve got your answer,” Raven said, though she hated what that meant.

&n
bsp; As a mentor, Raven enjoyed helping Mari work through new experiences almost as much as Mari enjoyed having them. But sometimes, the young protégé faced a stumbling block that ripped Raven’s heart out. This was one of them.

  Raven would have loved to tell Mari to march into Paulson Diagnostics on Monday morning and tell Tiffany, Kiara, and their anonymous boss to shove their NDA into whatever orifice was the tightest. Raven would've loved to encourage her to stand up for her rights and principles, but Mari didn't have wealthy parents to fall back on like a lot of other junior-level employees.

  So atop all the harsh realities life had already handed her, Tiffany’s latest power move had added a new bitter but useful lesson: Adulting was hard. Sometimes it meant making compromises like signing an NDA and working for a boss who sucked.

  “I hate it here without you,” Mari said.

  The first fat drops of rain began to splat against the deck. Raven pulled up the collar on her coat, then ducked under the covered section to keep from getting wet. She offered a half-hearted chuckle. “You haven’t been there a full day without me.”

  “Yeah, but I know how bad it’s going to be.”

  Raven’s heart filled. “Aw, that’s really nice.”

  Outside of her sisters, Raven had a small cadre of close friends. She’d survived just fine without a significant other—that would require a relationship. What she did have were co-workers and employees. Raven embedded herself in a company and got to know the staff, its culture, and ecosystem so well that it felt like a family. So it mattered whether Mari liked her because Raven liked Mari.

  “It’s true. You’re a great boss. Tiffany sucks. I can’t believe I have to work for her.” Mari made a grunting sound.

  Raven was sorry, too. Not just because Mari had to work for such a power-grabbing wench, but because Raven felt responsible for putting her in that position. She’d missed the signs of what Tiffany and her mutant brothers were up to. If Raven had been more on top of her game, she’d have anticipated their move against their father and the rest of the board of directors. Those fired employees would still have their jobs, the remaining ones would still have their benefits, and they wouldn’t have to sign these stupid NDAs. But Raven had missed something key, and now everything was wrecked, including her career.