Bachelor Heart

by Regina Morris

  Check. Check. Check.

  Yep. Everything for Mr. Ellington was taken care of. Although, she wasn’t sure why he all of a sudden wanted new deck furniture. The wrought-iron set she had purchased for the home still looked great, and had very little wear.

  A text came in from Daniel, and the Hail to the Chief sound-bite she had set for him played.

  Deborah took a deep breath. As much as she loved being the one to swoop in and save the day, she wasn’t sure how she could help him now. Running errands at lunch had felt like some semblance of a normal day, but she knew it’d be chaotic again once she returned to the office.

  She read the text. “Reschedule 1 pm meeting for later today.”

  She read the text a second time. He needed her help with something business-related, not personal. That was good. That was regular routine and mundane. But, didn’t he understand that she had already rescheduled that meeting twice with the CTO?

  Shit.

  At the very least, Deborah could cancel the current appointment on her cell phone. She'd have to reschedule when she was back in the office, but she wasn't looking forward to talking to the CTO's assistant and looking like an idiot asking for another timeslot.

  Why did Daniel want to cancel his one o’clock meeting anyway?

  Actually, she knew why. Daniel hadn’t acted this way in years, but after breakups he tended to fall back into his adolescent routines. She just didn't want to think about what he might be doing in his office right now. It also explained the emergency need for deck furniture. Brandelynn may be gone, thank goodness, but that didn't mean another floozy wasn't comforting him.

  Her body stiffened, and she momentarily closed her eyes. She had been dismissed like a younger sister being told to go to the movies. The situation was appalling and humiliating, but did it have to be dismissive as well?

  She took a deep breath and told herself that it was none of her business who else was making her boss feel better. She just hoped that the stewardess from his last flight, the waitress from the restaurant he last ate ate—or whomever the woman may be—was gone by the time she returned to the office.

  Bumping into a young, very stupid girl on her way out the door—buttoning her blouse, her hair tussled—was always embarrassing. His couch escapades were nearly legendary in his twenties, they subsided a bit in his early thirties, now, nearly forty (as few as they were), they were beneath him. In so many ways he had matured, taken on so much responsibility, so much refinement…and yet in other ways, he was just a boy.

  God, why did she love him so?

  He never paid her a moment’s notice. Of course, she wasn’t batting her eyelashes at him and wearing see-through blouses to get his attention.

  Daniel’s women were all the same. They either suffered from daddy issues or had a huge craving for Mr. Ellington's fat wallet.

  Shallow, insensitive, sexy.

  A jealous rage continued to grow inside her, but then the Bible–thumping lectures of her parents replayed in her mind and the line between moral and immoral was again painted in front of her.

  Bosses were off limits, even ones with melt-your-knees blue eyes, deep take-me-now voices, and firm six-pack-and-then-some abs.

  He had even aged well with a light touch of gray at the hairline.

  Daniel never saw his exes after the breakups, which was one of the many reasons she never considered him a fish to hook from the company pier. Nothing good would come of a relationship. She needed her job too much to take such a risk.

  Daniel didn't have much time, and everything had to go like clockwork.

  He entered his office and was happy that Ms. Baxter remained out to lunch.

  His quick stop at the bank to retrieve an item from a safety deposit box hadn’t taken long. It was an errand he would have normally dispatched Ms. Baxter for, but it was too delicate in nature.

  He placed the small item in his desk drawer and heard the familiar voice of his lawyer as he knocked on the door and said hello.

  Scott paused long enough to hang up his coat before he joined Daniel in his office and closed the door.

  “The paperwork is all here.” Scott handed Daniel an envelope. He let out a slight chuckle. “I still can't believe you asked me to write this up. You're lucky I had a light schedule this morning.”

  “Thanks for drafting it so quickly.” He slid the paper out, and the two sat down. “I know it was an odd request.”

  “I left the intended bride's name as a blank field, just in case Ms. Baxter doesn't agree and you need to find another fiancée.” When Daniel nodded, Scott added, “Why did you suggest Ms. Baxter as the party of the second part when you could hire an actress and have her sign the nondisclosure?”

  Daniel thought about that. Ms. Baxter always stood by his side and seemed to be the perfect choice. She was poised and educated, a quality woman.

  An image of a banana split entered his mind.

  She was definitely a banana split.

  Plus, she was the one who’d told him this lie wouldn't just blow over without details. Ms. Baxter was the most detail–oriented person he knew.

  And, it felt right.

  “Ms. Baxter is loyal and dedicated. One of the few individuals in this world I can trust.” He then added, “She'd never let something like this get to her head, either. Any other woman might get the idea that I was falling for them and that she could somehow turn this into a real engagement.”

  “Is trust the only reason?” Scott asked.

  Daniel glanced across the desk. Trust was a big part of his life, and he only let a few people in his inner circle. Next to love, trust was the most important thing. “I trust Ms. Baxter with my home, my bank accounts…even my dogs. I won't have to worry if she agrees to do this.”

  “I see,” Scott said, nodding. “The two of you aren’t…” he let his question trail off and lifted an eyebrow suggestively.

  “What? No.” Did no one understand that a no-dating policy when it came to employees definitely included personal assistants? “Of course not.”

  Scott glanced at the paperwork. “I wrote the contract assuming not, but let’s be honest, Deborah has been at your side for decades. If there had every been any feelings, any physical or…” He let out a deep sigh. “This is really delicate, and emotions run high when a ring is involved. As your legal counsel, I need to know. Are you currently, or in the past have you ever slept with Ms. Baxter?” Before Daniel could answer, he added, “And I’m talking sexual intercourse in any form.”

  The man may be a close friend, but this was downright prying into his personal life, and Daniel didn’t like it. Still, he answered, “I have never had sex with her. I’m not sleeping with her now, and I don’t plan to sleep with her any time in the near future.” His voice rose in volume with each statement so he quickly glanced at the shut door that led to her office. She was still out to lunch thanks to his last minute, ‘please buy me deck furniture request’ and couldn’t have heard him.

  Scott raised his hands in surrender. “I just need to have full disclosure so I know how to legally protect you and your interests if any issues arise.”

  Daniel hated revealing private matters to people. “I’m not interested in Ms. Baxter.” Deborah may be his office wife, but there could never be anything else between them. “She's like a sister. You know…she knows how I like my coffee, she runs all my household errands, keeps my schedule running smoothly…”

  “I have a sister, Daniel. She doesn't do any of that for me.”

  A grin appeared on Daniel's face. “Sounds like you need to train your sister better.”

  It was a joke, but judging by Scott’s expression, he didn't think it was very funny. Daniel took a deep breath and picked up the contract once again. “I selected Deborah because I trust her.”

  “Well, all right then. You did just break up with Brandelynn so I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t because of Deborah.”

  Closing his eyes, Daniel took a deep breath and counted to t
en. The silence engulfed them, and then he finally said, “I broke up with Brandelynn because I didn’t love her. My dream woman isn’t Deborah…” He then thought about the woman who had featured heavily in his dream last night.

  Hot. Sexy. Curly-haired brunette. Her curves were etched in his memory. Who was she?

  “Dream woman?” Scott asked.

  “I don’t even fantasize about the Deborah, even though she’s been at my side for years.”

  “So… you’re not interested in her. Understood.”

  Daniel wasn’t sure why he wanted to share—maybe it was due to the intimate nature of their discussion—but he said, “I dreamt of a beautiful brunette a few days ago and again last night. A sexy and alluring woman that…” He shook his head. “She’s a mystery woman. I feel that she’s out there somewhere. A total stranger now but someone I want to find.” The truth sounded silly, but he needed Scott to understand that he didn’t fantasize about Deborah. If anything, he fantasized about his dream woman—and hoped each night he’d see her in his dreams again.

  “You’re dreaming of a brunette?” Scott’s eyebrow rose and Daniel knew the next remark would be snarky at best. He didn’t need to be the butt of any jokes. “Is this the same brunette from a dream last Thanksgiving?” Scott then shook his head. “The same woman from a dream during Christmas?”

  A tingling sensation engulfed Daniel. There had been other dreams, and he had told Scott briefly about them. “Forget I said anything.” Why did he even mention it? No one needed to know his fantasies.

  “Who is it? Not a new hire, right?” His face showed concern in a ‘we won’t have a sexual harassment suit on our hands’ kind of way.

  Daniel let out a deep sigh. “I never see her face in the dreams, so I have no idea who she is.”

  Scott let out a slight chuckle. “A sexy, dream brunette…I doubt a vision of your subconscious could sue you, so that should be safe.” Scott cleared his throat and gazed down at the paperwork. “Anyway, this document includes a standard nondisclosure agreement. So, for the next two weeks, Deborah will act as your fiancée, in name only. She can't tell anyone about the arrangement. There is a clause about what would be appropriate for public displays of affection and what is off–limits.”

  Displays of affection? Daniel hadn’t thought about…he read the indicated paragraph and mentally checked it off. “Kissing, hugging…gazing into each other's eyes, hand–holding…,” Daniel read aloud. The affection was all middle school level, nothing too explicit—nothing too explosive if anything went wrong. “This is all acceptable.”

  Daniel then remembered something. “Ms. Baxter mentioned stuff like leaking a date to the press, a honeymoon destination, and other bridal things.” Daniel felt the pressure building from a list of details he couldn’t care less about. “I don't want to have to hire a fake wedding coordinator, as well.”

  Scott gave an all-knowing nod. As a recently married man, Daniel figured he could understand the headaches.

  “I doubt it will come to that,” Scott said. “But we could do a fake bachelor party. I know Ravi would be on board. We could go to Atlantic City, or even hire party girls.”

  The suggestion would have been fine coming from Ravi, but hearing Scott say those words just sounded off. “Party girls? You're blissfully married. What do you know about ‘party girls’?”

  “Nothing. But my bachelor party, which you had to miss, was hosted by Black Cat.”

  “Black Cat?” Daniel perked up at the name. He figured it was a bar of some sort, not a gentlemen’s club. It had been on his list of things to Google, but he had been too busy.

  “It's an upscale strip place downtown. Why?”

  A strip club? Well, that piece of information saved him from having to run an internet search on it. Daniel thought back to the car ride last night and the text Brandelynn had received. “I guess you’d have to be a regular customer to get the club to text you their specials.”

  “Push notifications?” Scott asked.

  Daniel didn’t know, and didn’t care what they were called. Brandelynn received a text last night from Black Cat, so she must frequent the place, but that was odd since men were the clientele. “It doesn't matter,” he said, shaking his head and brushing it off.

  He stared at the document in his hands, and a sentence caught his attention that threatened to give him a powerful migraine. “The contract says that if she is an employee of Ellington–Weston that she'll be allowed time off between now and the end of this agreement. I can't go without an assistant that long.”

  Scott’s expression changed as though he knew this would be a sticking point. “Do you want Deborah as your fiancée, or as your employee? You can't have it both ways.”

  The man had a point, but that didn’t help the sick feeling brewing in the pit of Daniel’s stomach.

  “You can hire a temp to help out.” Scott pointed at a section written lower on the page. “During the time off, Deborah can stay in a suite at the Langtham Hotel.”

  “Langtham? That's rather fancy, don't you think?” It was one of the oldest and most distinguished hotels in Chicago. He bet Trump even stayed there at times, even though the man owned Trump Tower.

  Scott shrugged. “The media is reporting that she's an Austrian heiress. Naturally, we'll keep the location under wraps, but if the press finds out where she's staying, it has to be believable.”

  That did make sense. And, overall, the cost was negligible.

  Flipping to the next page, Daniel noticed a wardrobe budget and a list of dates. “You have us going out to dinners, and to the opera.” He loved the opera, but…a grunt escaped the back of his throat. “I don’t have a lot of time. Business is keeping me working all hours of the day.”

  When Scott didn’t flinch or concede the point, Daniel knew that he wouldn’t be able to escape the nights out. “I'll get Ms. Baxter to make these arrangements.”

  “No need. Caroline came up with these suggestions and already booked everything, including spa treatments while Deborah stays at the hotel.”

  His inner safety wall was crumbling. Secret affairs needed to remain just that—secret. “Caroline knows about this?” Daniel set the paper down and glared at Scott.

  “You said I could use a trusted consultant if needed. Believe me, I trust my wife. If it hadn't been for her help, I wouldn't have been able to come up with any romantic dates where you could parade your fake fiancée.”

  The defensive wall he erected slowly came down. “I guess that's all right.” Daniel rubbed his jaw and placed the contract on the desk. “If Ms. Baxter does agree to do me this favor, she can discuss things with Caroline. The two of them are friends, and Ms. Baxter may need help if she is to be sequestered for two weeks at a hotel.”

  Daniel let out a deep sigh. Two weeks. God, he was asking a lot of her. “I just need to talk with Ms. Baxter and get her to sign on the dotted line.”

  “And, Daniel, if she’s going to be your fiancée, you might want to stop calling her ‘Ms. Baxter.’”

  11

  Deborah exited the elevator—painful, yet stylish, shoes back on her feet squishing her sensitive and sore toes—and made her way to her office. She opened the door and was grateful that she had a minute to put away her purse and comfy shoes before Mr. Ellington…

  Wait.

  Her gaze shifted and her head spun toward Ellington’s private office.

  She had been right. His door was closed. Unless he had a meeting, and she knew he didn’t, he preferred to keep his office door open—always complaining that the air became stagnant in the room since he couldn’t open the windows.

  Her body stiffened. She opened the drawer to her desk and tossed her purse in. Next, she struggled with her coat, turning the sleeves inside-out in her haste.

  She threw the coat on top of her desk. Who would it be this time? A sexy flight attendant? A sexy grease–monkey? A sexy college grad?

  Mr. Ellington’s breakup remorse usually had him going through a s
eries of affairs.

  It wouldn't be the first time a giggly young woman left Mr. Ellington's office, panties in hand, as Mr. Ellington asked Deborah to escort her out of the building. He'd promise to call the afternoon delight soon, but Deborah knew better.

  She was always the clean-up crew for his romances.

  What Mr. Ellington needed was a good woman to settle down with. He was more of a lonely man than a hound dog lusting for women. Why couldn't men see what they needed in life?

  Deborah sat in her chair and sifted through some paperwork, not paying attention to the documents since her gaze wandered to the closed door every few seconds. Thankfully, she couldn't hear anything—this time.

  The door opened, and Mr. Scott Hollister shook hands with Mr. Ellington before they left the office and entered hers.

  She looked toward the coat rack. A man's jacket hung there.

  Letting out a deep breath, she stood and walked to the rack, feeling foolish for not noticing the coat before.

  “Do we need to schedule any appointments?” she asked the men, her voice slightly higher than she had intended.

  Scott took his jacket from her. “We're good.”

  “Please say hello to Caroline for me, Mr. Hollister.”

  “I will, thanks.”

  Deborah opened the office door and let him out. Focusing now on Mr. Ellington, she said, “I've rescheduled the meeting with the CTO for three o'clock today.”

  “Deborah, I'd like to see you for a moment,” Mr. Ellington said as she made her way back to her desk.

  She stopped mid stride. He never called her “Deborah.”

  Deborah followed Mr. Ellington into his office where he immediately gestured for her to take one of the two seats in front of his large, and intimidating, office desk.

  She crossed her legs and her foot began to shake. In an effort to stop the nervous twitch, she straightened her pencil skirt and placed a hand on her knee.

  Something was off. She handled Mr. Ellington’s schedule and there was no meeting with Scott for this afternoon. No. Their meeting had to be spur of the moment, with Daniel calling his lawyer in for a private pow-wow.