by R. C. Martin
His weekend had fled from him, but he welcomed the start of a new week. After the hours of work he dedicated to the Dixon project on Sunday afternoon, he was ready to meet with his team, connect with his client, and set things in motion. When thoughts of Logan flitted across his mind, it was all business as he recalled the email correspondence they exchanged while away from the office. More than anything, they were in agreement on the challenge Mr. Dixon was proving himself to be.
He’s both picky and cheap—a combination of things I could live with if his personality wasn’t so horrendous.
Knowing such festering thoughts would eradicate his clear, post-workout mindset, he discarded his opinions of his client and headed for the shower. As he bathed, he mentally sorted through his to-do list for the morning and remembered a call he forgot to make the day before. When he finished washing, he dried himself, wrapped a towel about his waist, and headed for his phone.
The device was still plugged in, resting on his nightstand. As he reached for it, his gaze shifted to his unmade bed. Temporarily distracted by the memory of the women who shared his bed Friday and Saturday night, he paused. Diane had been precisely what he planned for as his work week drew to a close. Cierra was a welcomed surprise. While he’d changed his sheets between overnight guests, he slept an extra night in the scent of Cierra. Out of respect for the next woman who would enter his room, he took the time to strip the sheets before he grabbed his phone and crossed the hall to his office.
It was barely half past six a.m., but Judah didn’t hesitate to push a call through to Benjamin. He and his brother operated on very similar schedules. Judah guessed if the lawyer wasn’t yet awake, he was doing him a favor.
“Hey,” he answered softly on the fourth ring. “Hold on a minute, will you?”
“Yeah,” Judah muttered, his brow furrowed in suspicion.
Benjamin never answered the phone in a whisper. If he was in with a client or in the middle of court, he simply didn’t pick up. Seeing as it was too early in the morning for either of those possibilities, Judah waited for his brother’s return—his impatience fueled by curiosity.
“Sorry about that,” said Benjamin, his voice loud and clear. “What’s up?”
“Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No. No, I’m not alone. She’s still sleeping and—”
“Benjamin,” Judah interrupted with a grin. “Do you mean to tell me you have a woman in your bed?”
“Don’t be an ass,” his brother responded on a laugh. “Yes. There’s a woman in my bed. And before you get crass—no, I did not have sex with her.”
Judah’s grin transformed into a smirk. He wasn’t at all surprised by Benjamin’s admission. His brother was the kind of guy who took things slow. He saved sex for when he felt as though it was right. In short, Judah considered him to be a fool who fell in love. In spite of the multiple relationships which had fallen apart since Benjamin was an adolescent, he still maintained there was a woman out there whose heart belonged to him. He was a romantic—a fool, but a fool Judah loved, regardless.
“So, what? You stayed up all night talking?”
Even through the phone, Judah could hear the smile in Benjamin’s voice as he explained, “We went out for dinner, she came over for a few drinks, it got late, and I invited her to stay. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but sometimes it’s fun to stay up all night laughing and getting to know a woman without complicating things by getting naked.”
Judah arched a single eyebrow as he muttered, “Trust me—my sexual encounters are not complicated.”
“Right. You’re a pig,” he teased. “And I know you didn’t call me to talk about this. So, what’s up?”
Chuckling, Judah recounted the details of his Saturday morning spent on the golf course. As always, he enjoyed the game he played with his aunt—but it was a pastime they preferred to enjoy as a group of three. “It’s been a few weeks since we’ve gotten together. Aunt Eddalyn wanted to try to arrange a game. We thought you could come up for a day.”
“Yeah, sure. That sounds great. I’ll have to double check my schedule, but I think I might be free this weekend.”
“Take a look. Let me know. Maybe after golf, you can take me to dinner—tell me about this woman you spent all night talking to.”
“All right, asshole. I’ll get back to you this afternoon,” he replied, amusement coloring his tone.
“Sounds good.”
“She’s up. I’ve got to go.”
“Say no more.”
They disconnected, and Judah stared down at the blank screen in his hand.
For his sake, I hope his never ending quest to find the woman of his dreams works out, he thought.
He wasn’t one for fairy tales. In his experience, love only bred pain; pain caused by lies and betrayal; pain in which he had no interest. He’d felt it all before—traveled down the road of least resistance. It wasn’t worth it the first time, and there was no convincing him it would be worth it a second time.
Judah discarded his phone in exchange for his tablet. He pulled up his newspaper subscription as he left his office, maneuvering his way toward the stairs, which would take him to his kitchen. He set aside his tablet, only long enough to prepare his French press, and then re-immersed himself in the periodical. He was halfway through his cup of coffee when he heard her as she used her key to grant herself entrance into his home. He noted the time—seven o’clock, on the dot—and a small smile curled his lips.
“Good morning, Mr. Jude,” she greeted as she spotted him halfway up the stairs.
“Good morning, Marta,” he replied fondly.
Upon reaching the landing, she scoffed and rolled her eyes at him as she said, “You know I coming, Mr. Jude, and no pants?”
He chuckled and watched as she averted her eyes and continued toward his dining room table with her cleaning supplies. Marta was a short, round, heavy-set Latina with long, dark hair she usually contained in a single braid. Her accent was thick. Upon hearing it, Judah constantly regretted his inability to speak Spanish. He would have enjoyed speaking to Marta in her first language. Her reliability coupled with her countenance made her one of the only women in his life with whom he liked having around for reasons not at all related to sex.
Abandoning his tablet, Judah took up the remainder of his coffee and started for his bedroom. “I’ll be out of your hair in no time.” He was halfway to the stairs when he paused and remembered his manners. Turning toward her, he inquired, “Marta, how was your weekend?”
“Very good. My Clara turned fifteen. We had very big party.”
A small smile graced his lips and he raised his coffee mug in cheers. “Send my best wishes to the birthday girl.”
“And your weekend, Mr. Jude?”
His small smile turned into a grin at the expression which accompanied Marta’s question. She dipped her chin, as if peering at him from over the rim of her non-existent spectacles, a single one of her eyebrows lifted inquisitively.
Well aware of what she was getting at, Judah didn’t shy away from the truth. “I already stripped the sheets, Marta. They just need to be washed.”
“One pair?” She folded her arms across her chest, her second eyebrow lifting to align with the other.
Turning his back toward her, he muttered, “Two.”
“Dios! Un dia—one day, Mr. Jude, Mrs. St. Michaels will be the only woman in your bed, no?”
He bit back his laughter as he continued toward the stairs. On the one hand, Judah felt touched that Marta had the boldness to express her opinions in regard to his personal life. Though, on the other, it simply amused him how the mother in her seemed on a mission to correct his wild ways.
“Unlikely, Marta,” he called from over his shoulder. “Very unlikely.”
Despite the impeccable state of his two-piece summer suit—complete with accents which denoted his constant attention to detail—Judah was dressed and out the door not twenty minutes later. Behind the wheel
of his silver, 911 Carerra Porsche, he made it to the office even faster. He didn’t need to observe the parking lot to know he was the first to arrive. He usually was, and he preferred it that way.
The Northern Colorado branch of Eddalyn’s Interiors was manned by an eight person staff who would all trickle into the office by nine a.m. Rick, who was their resident architect, or Logan, who worked her way into a senior design position, would be the next to arrive. Eddalyn, as consistent as the clock itself, habitually arrived at half past eight; while Kent, their business affairs manager, would likely be on her heels. Kim and Miranda, the staff’s mid-level designers, were known to show up ten minutes before the top of the hour. Then there was Brittany, who rarely made her entrance prior to eight-fifty-nine.
It hadn’t taken long for Judah to come to the conclusion that Brittany liked to live on the wild side, where she pushed her limits—as well as his. Some days, he thought for certain she wished to do more than test him, in favor of crossing professional boundaries. He couldn’t deny he found her attractive, but he didn’t trust the likes of her. As sure as he was that she liked to color outside the lines, he was equally as aware of her type. He made a habit of steering clear of any woman who had the propensity to get attached.
That morning, as he settled himself at his desk, Judah didn’t give his young colleague much thought. While he knew the satisfaction he managed to find over the weekend would soon be little more than the remnant of an invigorating memory, he could think of better ways to fulfill his needs. Furthermore, before he could give consideration to such desires, he had business to address.
Hardly more than a quarter of an hour later, he was pulled from his thoughts by a familiar, decadent scent as it wafted into his office. He looked up as Logan sat in one of the seats in front of his desk with a huff. Judah could tell by the wrinkle in her usually smooth brow that she was irritated about something. As dissatisfied as he was about his failed attempts to persuade her into his bed, he was not so arrogant or foolish enough to dismiss the ways in which he admired her. In a strictly professional sense, she was his most exceptional pupil; even more, the time he invested in her gave credence to his belief that he knew her well enough to interpret her mood.
Except, when she failed to speak, he admitted defeat. He couldn’t, after all, read her mind.
“Logan,” he muttered, his tone hinting at his impatience. “Were you planning on saying something, or are you just here to tease me?”
“Sorry,” she sighed and pressed a hand to her stomach. “I did come in to tell you something, and then my stomach—I just needed to breathe for a moment.”
This time, it was he who sported a furrowed brow. “Are you ill?”
“No, no. I’m fine. Maybe a little dizzy, but the nausea has passed.” She waved her hand at him dismissively and then shook her head to emphasize her sentiment. “Anyway, Mr. Dixon.”
“What about him?”
“I’ve been thinking about this issue we’ve been having with making his ridiculous budget work with some wall pieces. I completely forgot that I know the perfect place for us to look. Earlier this summer, a friend of a friend told me I should check out this gallery on Mountain.”
She pressed her hand to her belly once more but continued to speak without pause.
“I guess you got me so hooked on Frederick’s place in Denver, I didn’t even think of sourcing something locally. Anyway, I thought we could go scout it out this afternoon? I did a little research last night. A lot of their stuff is still pretty pricey, but it does seem closer to Dixon’s range.”
“Good. We’ll head over after lunch. Does that work for you?”
“Yes, that’s perfect,” she assured him as she stood to her feet. “I’ll let you get back to it. I should probably respond to some of the man’s emails.”
She rolled her eyes dramatically, and it caused a slight smile to tease one side of Judah’s mouth.
Mrs. Holloway is most certainly out of bounds, he thought as he watched her take her leave. But that doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy the view.
Chapter Five
When my alarm clock sounded on Monday morning, I was quick to silence it. I pulled in a breath, acclimating myself to the reality of morning, and then turned over. A slight frown tugged at my brow when I noticed I was in bed alone. Not usually a particularly deep sleeper, I was surprised I hadn’t heard Geoffrey leave. As I sat up to check for any evidence of his continued presence in my apartment, I spotted a note left on top of his abandoned pillow.
Thanks, Freckles. See you at work.
Love, G
A yawn left me sucking in a deep breath, and I huffed it out with a sigh as I glanced once more at his vacated spot. The day before actually turned out pretty great. I knew Monday would come with its own challenges, but I hoped any peace he managed to grab hold of on our hike would spill into the new day; and I prayed work would serve as a reminder that life would always, simply, go on. It had to.
I didn’t expect his pain would go away anytime soon. It had only been five days since the breakup; but I knew Geoffrey was stronger than he knew. I believed we all were. My experiences taught me that God made us capable of withstanding just a little bit more than we thought we could.
It wasn’t until I forced myself out of bed that I smelled it.
Coffee.
For just a second, I breathed in the evidence of the full pot which awaited me. It was on my way to the kitchen that I cursed Reeve for breaking my friend’s heart. Except, as I began to indulge in my first mug of steaming hot dark roast, I had little room in my mind for the man. I was too busy enjoying happiness in a cup. When my serving was gone, I poured myself another and returned to my room in order to get ready.
I showered quickly, wishing to have plenty of time to dry my hair. I neglected it most of the weekend, and I thought it was due a little attention. When I was out of the shower, I coated it with a palm-full of leave-in conditioner and let it sit while I drank more of my coffee and picked out my attire for the day. It didn’t take me long to decide on my high-waisted, floral print pencil skirt paired with a sleeveless white top and teal heels. I got dressed in all but my shoes, then returned to the bathroom to fulfill my appointment with my diffuser.
I lasted all of twenty minutes in front of the mirror before I gave up. In all honesty, that was remarkably close to my record. I never could last more than thirty minutes wrestling with my hair. In any case, the top half was dry and wavy, and I was content to let the rest dry on its own. I dedicated another ten minutes to my makeup—which wasn’t much more than eye liner, mascara, and a hint of concealer—then decided I was as ready as I’d ever be. I returned to my room for my shoes, grabbed my purse and my phone, and was out the door.
My ’98, red, hatchback Civic was hot when I climbed into it—and it was only eight-thirty. I rolled the windows down, all the while hoping I’d be able to get them back up upon reaching my destination. I inherited the vehicle from my parents after I graduated from high school, and it had definitely seen better days. Even so, I refused to give up on her. I’d made some good memories in that car. Not to mention the fact that I couldn’t afford another. I needed her to hold on at least another year or so.
It took me ten minutes to drive to work. After I found a parking spot and walked the distance to our front entrance, it was five minutes to the top of the hour. The doors were still locked, so I was forced to knock and hope that either Andrew or Geoffrey would hear me. Since Andrew took me on full-time earlier that summer, he’d been promising to make me a key. Needless to say, he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Most days, it wasn’t a huge inconvenience, so I didn’t badger him about it. I was so incredibly thankful he gave me the job, I almost hated to ask him for anything at all.
My early friendship with Geoffrey made it possible for me to convince him and his cousin to take me on as an intern the spring semester of my junior year. I worked for free those first few months, and then Andrew promoted me into a paid internship posit
ion the following summer. Both men were always so good to me, and I hoped and prayed I wouldn’t have to say goodbye to them after graduation. As luck—or prosperity—would have it, Mountain Time Art’s two-year anniversary was right around the corner, and they had done really well for themselves. In light of their success, they could afford to keep me around.
Though, I’m pretty convinced they would have made it work regardless.
When I saw Andrew on his way to the door, I didn’t mask my happiness at the sight of him. He returned the expression, but with a knowing glint in his hazel-green eyes. Unlike Geoffrey, he had a slim, lean build and a head full of dark brown hair. He was also a few inches shorter—but their differences never pitted them against each other in any way. They were partners, not competitors.
“Morning, Teddy,” he greeted as he held open the door for me.
“Good morning. How are you?”
“Recovered.” He winked at me as we stood just beyond the threshold of the gallery’s entrance. “You?”
“I’m good,” I replied with a chuckle. “And Mr. Fink?”
The glint I noticed a moment ago seemed to brighten as his smile turned into a grin. “Cameron just got here with the new shipment.”
“Ah.” I laughed, suddenly understanding the significance behind his announcement. “He’s being bossy, isn’t he?”
“You could say that.”
Andrew signaled with a nod, and we both walked further into the gallery. We hadn’t gone far when I heard Geoffrey as he doled out orders. I grimaced a little when he demanded Cameron to move the piece he was hanging a quarter of an inch to the right—then again to the left.
“Don’t worry,” Andrew assured me. “Cam knows about the breakup. He’s taking it all in stride.”
“Good,” I murmured, relieved.
“I have a few phone calls to make and some paperwork to look over, so I’ll let you get settled.” I offered him a nod of polite acceptance, and he started toward his office. Before he got too far, he turned to me once more and added, “I have an appointment with a new artist later this morning. I was thinking of taking Geoff with me, if you think you can manage?”