by Jean Oram
“Someone said she’s talking to the counselor at the hospital.”
“That’s good.”
Emma swiped a finger through Jill’s pie, dipping the chocolate-covered digit into her mouth with a sly smile. “Love this stuff.”
Jill pulled the slice farther away from Emma’s probing fingers.
“So for real—what’s up with your marriage?” Emma asked. Her voice lowered. “Is it a business arrangement?”
“Kind of,” Jill admitted, scrunching her nose, fearing judgment even though she knew Emma had originally married Luke for business reasons.
“Well, be careful.” Her boss stood.
Jill’s stomach dropped. “Why?”
She laughed, lightheartedly. “You’re married. That tends to divert even the best-laid plans.”
“We signed a business agreement.”
“So did Luke and I.” She wiggled her ring finger with a smile. “We married for business and fell in love. You two have a business agreement.” Her eyes twinkled as she sang, “I know what’s going to happen next.”
Jill struggled not to roll her eyes. “You’re starting to sound like Ginger.” She turned away, waking up her computer so she could get some work done before she started fantasizing about what life would be like married to Burke—truly married.
“Two people don’t just get married in secret, then partner their businesses when there’s nothing there. Even if it’s just hiding under the surface,” Emma whispered over her shoulder, her words sinking through the walls Jill was struggling to erect between reality and fear. Or was it hope?
Emma took Jill’s empty plate with her, leaving her alone to think about Burke. Their marriage. Their businesses. But most of all, the heat that seemed to build between them whenever they were together.
Despite the situation, she already felt closer to him than she had to any of the other men she’d been with. How could that be? Was it just an illusion? Part of the act?
She slid her bracelet up her arm, taking in her half of their heart tattoo.
Or was it something else?
Burke couldn’t concentrate on his work. He wanted to be out hiking with Jill again. She’d been a patient teacher and he’d enjoyed using his hands to extract the right ingredients, then, back at her little apartment, prepare a few creams. It was calming, meditative.
But even more, he’d enjoyed watching how intent she became, how focused on putting her heart and soul into her products. The ingredients and results mattered to her. Authentic. Artisan. No minimum wage workers slaving in a factory or over a machine, bruising and crushing the leaves to make everything more uniform, faster and cheaper—a race to the bottom.
She was preserving uniqueness, a reminder of why he’d taken the path he had, clinging to it through adversity. She embodied everything he valued in his own company, and the moments he’d shared with her were ones he wanted to capture, preserve, savor.
That, right there in her tiny guest room, was the meaning he’d been trying to find.
But instead of immersing himself in that world, he was in his office, in the city, trying to summon enough focus to pore over his proposal for Tiffer.
He needed to get this done now so he could let it rest for a few weeks, then reattack it, its flaws standing out after he’d let it sit.
He leaned forward and took a sip of his organic, rain-forest-friendly coffee. He was going to get the deal this time.
Things were lining up, and serendipity was delivering the win he’d needed, just in the knick of time.
Someone moved in his doorway and Burke looked up.
“Andrea!” He stood, greeting the new mom. She had a tiny infant nestled in a sling. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s called visiting,” Andrea said.
“Snooping?”
“Gulliver said you were singing this morning.”
“I was?”
“Glen Miller.”
Burke had indeed caught himself humming one of the big band’s tunes under his breath.
“So? Who did you make a deal with?” Andrea gingerly rested a hip against his desk, careful not to wake her newborn, Avani, whose name meant earth. The name was as perfect as the girl’s delicate features.
“No deal. How’s motherhood?”
“Fine. Sleep is for wimps. So why the singing?” She was watching him from the corner of her eyes as though expecting him to reveal something.
“The beta tests for Jill’s Botanicals have continued to be very promising.”
Andrea was nodding intently. She looked wired, but exhausted. He had a feeling the high of having a newborn had yet to wane and allow reality to come crashing in. “Yeah? How good?”
“Surprisingly so.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
She stifled a yawn, her perkiness suddenly slipping. The baby began to stir and Andrea stood, her hands moving quickly, her expression one of panic.
“You know it’s okay if they cry,” he said gently.
She bit her bottom lip, her eyes welling.
“Here.” He reached for Avani once she was free of the fabric. “Let me walk her.”
“What if she’s hungry?”
“Then she’ll cry.” He cradled the baby against his chest and told Andrea to sit. “Close your eyes for a moment.”
“What do you know about babies?”
“Lots, actually.”
He’d had a girlfriend named River in high school who’d had a baby—not his—and she’d moved out of her parents’ home, trying to go it alone rather than face their disapproval for keeping Mika. He’d spent hours babysitting so River could study. Funny how he hadn’t thought about the two of them in a long time, or even how River had left him as soon as she’d completed her diploma, even though he’d mourned their loss for a long time.
“We’ll cry if we need you,” he said to Andrea.
“You sure?” She sank into the couch, looking tense.
“Chill. I’ve got this.” He stepped out of his office, inhaling the gentle scent of the baby. Her crown was covered in the most delicate hair, her skin precious and soft.
“Are you smelling the baby?” Gulliver asked as he passed his desk.
“Want a sniff? She smells incredible.”
Gulliver leaned back as though he’d been offered something offensive.
Burke chuckled and walked the perimeter of the office. It was quiet today, with half the crew out at a workshop. He talked to the baby as he moved, telling her about his day, his dreams for his deal with Tiffer. How Jill was helping him and how expanding globally would improve their bottom line and help out Avani’s family. That maybe her mom would be able to work from home more, and they could hire an assistant to help with her workload.
“Family is important, Avani, remember that. It’s not something you can take for granted.”
The baby made a satisfied sucking sound and Burke choked up.
What was with him? Not only was he feeling sentimental, but he’d shown Jill a more intimate side on their hike. The business was what mattered, not whatever it was they were doing together on a more personal level. Focus on the business. Nothing else.
Light and loose.
He cruised by his office and found Andrea asleep, her head propped in her hand.
Burke decided to keep walking.
“Jill’s on line one,” Gulliver called as he passed.
Burke placed a finger over his lips and stepped to Gulliver’s desk, taking the call. He cradled the baby’s head as he shifted to sit on the desktop. The man sighed heavily at the inconvenience of having his boss take over his workspace, and Burke smiled.
“I’m going on break,” Gulliver said, abandoning his post.
Burke nodded and said to Jill, “Make sure the people you hire understand the artisan aspect of your products, and take pride in creating the best they can each time.”
“Why are you talking so softly?”
“Avani fell asleep on my chest.”
> There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Jill? You still there?”
“Yes, of course.” Her tone was curt.
“It’s Andrea’s baby. My financial officer. She came in today even though she’s on maternity leave.” He was bemused by the thought that Jill might be jealous, and disappointed that she’d assumed the worst—that Avani might be a woman he’d just slept with.
“Oh.”
“Were you jealous?”
“You have a bit of reputation for being indiscreet.” There was something in her tone.
“What’s wrong?”
“Did you read the papers?” That tone—it was unhappy.
“Which papers?”
Gulliver was standing a few feet away in the break room doorway, nursing a cup of hot cocoa. Burke raised his brows at him and in a flash his assistant was seated in front of his computer, typing furiously into a search engine as Burke mouthed to enter his name.
They both inhaled sharply as the first headline hit them.
“Oh,” Burke said.
Well, actually, it wasn’t too bad. Pretty much the truth, too.
He was married.
Had been dating Autumn.
But the article made him out as a two-timing schmuck who cared about the planet, but not people.
Ouch. That wasn’t good for their brand.
Gulliver clicked to the next article. More of the same.
“It’ll blow over,” Burke said with an authority he didn’t feel.
Jill was quiet. Silent women were often deadly foes and his stress levels rose like the water in a bathtub about to overflow.
He put himself in her shoes. Small town. Mysterious new secret husband—who’d been cheating on her. That wasn’t good.
She was strong and capable, but he also knew there was a thread in her life he’d yet to figure out. Something about being unlucky in love. There were men who had let her down, made her look or feel foolish. And now Burke had become another one of them.
He opened his mouth to speak, to apologize, but he didn’t know what to say. He glanced at Gulliver for help, but his assistant was gaping at him.
“It’s true?” Gulliver mouthed in disbelief, after scanning yet another article. He pointed at Burke, then the phone. He mimicked sliding a ring onto his finger.
Burke waved him away, not wanting to get into it. Not when Jill needed him to say something.
Anything.
No, not anything. The right thing.
What was the right thing?
Gulliver hit speaker on his phone. “Jill? It’s Gulliver. Are you okay, honey?”
That was, indeed, a good place to start.
She let out a shaky sigh that could be heard over the line.
“Oh, sweetie.” Gulliver turned to Burke, scowling at him. “Burke, get lost. Jill and I need to talk.”
“She’s my wife.”
“Thanks for telling us, by the way. I suspected, but I thought that was something you would have disclosed to your most-trusted assistant.” He turned up his nose and shifted so his back was to Burke. He’d taken the receiver and was talking in quick, hushed tones.
Burke shifted, feeling like a third wheel, until Avani began fussing, at which point he went to his office and woke Andrea.
She yawned, then, seeing her child, stretched out her arms for her. Spotting Gulliver hunched over his phone through the open doorway, she asked, “What’s got Gulliver in a tizzy?”
“He found out I’m married.”
Andrea nearly dropped her baby. “The newspaper articles were right?”
“It’s a long story.” One he probably should have shared with his staff, come to think of it. He’d just kind of figured it wouldn’t impact a thing.
Andrea had settled on his couch, Avani tucked under her shirt to feed. Burke looked away.
“I thought it was just someone trying to bring your stock down a little further. You know, the competition. Enemy. Unhappy coworker.” She angled her head toward Gulliver, eyebrows raised in silent question.
“No,” Burke said. “He’s upset and worried, but he would never betray me.”
But it had him wondering if someone else would.
And if that person was the one he knew Jill already suspected—Autumn Martinez.
Jill wanted to avoid downtown Blueberry Springs. Desperately.
However, Emma had requested she pick her up a cappuccino on her way by Mandy’s—which was always busy this time of the morning—when she went to collect the day’s mail at the post office.
And on a mild spring day, there were more people out, which meant any time spent on the sidewalks was equivalent to a few miles of running the gauntlet. But instead of soldiers attacking her, it was the gossips who appeared out of nowhere, like ravenous termites catching wind of tasty, dry wood.
Her phone rang and she picked it up, grateful to have an excuse to ignore absolutely everyone she saw.
She just had to get through today and then it would be the weekend and she could hide out for a blissful forty-eight hours.
“Hello?” She ducked her head, pretending not to see Fran waving to her from the doorway of her boutique.
“Jill Armstrong? It’s Zebadiah from WWYL.”
“Hey, Zeb. Sorry. I’ve been meaning to—”
“I have a new one. Before you say anything at all, you want to check out this one.”
“Does he live with his mom and play video games in his free time?”
There was a telling pause.
“Zeb…” They’d been through this before. And now that she was out about her marriage, she needed to let her subscription lapse.
“You live with your sister.”
“No, I rent from my sister. There’s a difference. And anyway, right now I—”
“Jill, honey. Yoo-hoo!” It was Mary Alice and her sister, Liz.
“I have to go.” Jill was going to need more than a phone conversation to dissuade the sisters from hounding her. She hung up as the ladies called, “We heard the news about Burke.”
Jill closed her eyes and turned on her heel, shoving open the hardware store’s glass door, acting as though she hadn’t heard the women. Inside, she ducked down the paint aisle, knowing there was a very good chance they’d follow.
Yes, she and her cheating husband had made the news.
She’d already suffered through her mother cornering her to talk about Burke, going on and on about all the things Jill needed to change about herself in order to catch someone good—like Jodi’s husband, Gareth.
Wade Sinclair from high school still had a crush on her. Why not take him up on one of his dating offers?
Why hadn’t she?
Because she’d accidentally married a man who cranked her engine a lot harder than Wade ever could or would.
“I saw her,” Jill heard Mary Alice say with determined authority. “She’s in here somewhere. Jill? Jill, hon!”
Jill timed her movements around the store like she was playing paintball, slipping past a shelf of paintbrushes before hustling across the end of the aisle into the electrical section, then across to the restroom. She quietly closed the door, locking it.
Jill counted to a hundred, then back down to one. She cracked the door, listening. Then she walked the perimeter of the store before returning to the front. She rounded the end of an aisle, nearly knocking into a man who was tall and smelled heavenly, his strong hands catching her easily to keep them from colliding.
“Jill.”
“Burke? What are you doing here?” All he seemed to do lately was burn up the highway between the city and Blueberry Springs. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he liked her.
Or that he needed to fix the way he kept messing up her life.
“I’m sorry for how things went down with the press. Gulliver said people are talking here and I…” His expression went blank, as though he was suddenly uncertain why he had indeed burned up the highway in the middle of a workday.
“Well, what do you expect?” She let out a huff of self-depreciating laughter. “My husband’s been doing the governor’s daughter for months. I knew she’d talk to the press. Hence actually admitting to my mistake of marrying you.”
Why had that seemed like a good idea, again?
She let out a long sigh, wishing he was still holding her.
“I didn’t sleep with her.”
“Burke, it’s not important.” It felt important, though.
“Or anyone else. Not since you.”
She wanted to push past him, but she was frozen in place, her heart beating loud in her ears at the prospect of this sexy playboy not being with a soul since marrying her months ago.
She wanted to jump up, wrap her arms around him and kiss him.
“I find that hard to believe,” she said.
“So do I,” he replied, peeking at her. “But it’s true.”
“You can’t tell me Autumn’s just been—”
“I haven’t slept with her,” he repeated quickly, almost as though he was embarrassed. “She thinks I’m being old-fashioned and respectful, and changing my playboy bachelor ways because I love her.”
Jill began walking away. She didn’t need to hear this right now.
“But I don’t.” His voice was clear, strong. She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. “And I’m not a cheater.”
“So you haven’t been…” She caught herself. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t her business.
And that feeling of joy and relief should take a hint, as well as serve as a warning sign that she was in way too deep.
“Have you?” he asked.
She felt herself blush, embarrassed by her true lack of a love life. She glanced left. Mary Alice and Liz were eavesdropping at the end of the seasonal aisle, which was optimistically offering garden hoses instead of snow shovels despite the fact that the mountains no doubt still had another dump or two of the fluffy white stuff in store before spring officially sprang on the small town.