An older woman approached them, and Paul turned to her and offered his hand. “Mother, I’d like you to meet Miss Jessica Aucoin. She’s the author I told you about earlier. Mom’s an avid reader too,” he remarked, and turned back to Jessica. “Though she chooses lighter subjects, prefers short stories and anthologies.”
“I lose my train of thought if it’s too long,” his mother explained as Jessica shook her hand. “Would you like to join us for dinner, Dear?”
Caught off guard, Jessica cleared her throat. “Well…” she hesitated, waiting for Paul’s reaction to the unexpected invitation.
Paul chuckled as if he were not surprised by his mother’s question. “I’m sure Miss Aucoin has other plans, but if not, you are welcome to join us.”
He’d offered her an out, but also an invitation. Still unsettled by Jasper, she considered accepting, but then thought better of it. Paul was probably just trying to be polite.
She declined dinner, and turned to leave, still a little unsure of herself—of Jasper, and where he might show up.
She hesitated for a moment and was relieved when Paul stepped up and offered to give her a ride back to the hotel.
****
Monday morning dawned bright and early. Paul groaned and slapped the alarm silent. He’d read too late again. He rubbed his tired eyes and searched his mind to see if there were any major appointments on his calendar, anything he could cancel. Never one for taking the easy way out, he rolled out of bed, stumbled to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. Thank God he’d thought to prepare the pot and set the timer on automatic. Sitting at the table, he skipped the bible verse and went straight to prayer. He repented of his lack of discipline and begged for the grace and energy to get through the day. He’d have to stay away from her books if he was to have a life.
Or get it over with and read them all, he reasoned and made a mental note to get to the bookstore sometime today to pick up, or order, the rest of her titles.
Though warm and muggy, he welcomed the fresh air and surge of energy that resulted from his normal run. Arriving at the office with minutes to spare, Paul nodded in greeting to his secretary then poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Morning, Debra, coffee?”
“No thanks,” Debra replied, while she gathered his messages. When he strode into his office, she followed, filling him in on his activities for the day. They had been seated less than five minutes when a noise sounded at the door--a tiny shriek followed by a curse then a groan. Debra turned, displeasure etched in every plane of her face.
“May we help you?” she asked and rose from her chair.
Paul stood also. He looked over Debra’s shoulder and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well just fall on in here,” he teased.
The woman seemed to have a bit of trouble staying on her feet.
Jessica cleared her throat, her cheeks flaming. “I’m sorry if I interrupted. There was no one at the desk.”
Debra harrumphed. “Most people would have waited,” she muttered under her breath.
Paul gave her a measured look, shocked at the venom in her voice, and then turned his attention back to Jessica. “Do you have an appointment?”
Jessica shook her head. “No, but I was hoping to make one, unless you can see me now.”
Paul flipped through his messages. “Debra?”
Debra turned back to face him. “You’re free until ten o’clock,” she murmured, her lips pursed in disapproval.
Paul nodded. “If you’ll give us a few more minutes to finish up here, I’ll see you then.”
“Thanks,” Jessica replied. Bending, she picked up her shoe and the heel she’d just broken off it, and limped back to the lobby.
Paul waited until he was sure Jessica was out of earshot then addressed his secretary. “Want to tell me what’s bothering you?” He saw the quick flash of emotions in Debra’s eyes before she lowered them and cringed. Squaring her shoulders she pasted a cheerful smile on her face and shrugged.
“Typical Monday morning blues, I guess. I’ll apologize.”
Paul hesitated in reaching out and nodded instead. “Give me five will you?” Debra inclined her head in agreement and closed the door behind her. When she was gone, Paul indulged himself in a few moments of pure emotion. He’d often suspected Debra’s feelings went beyond that of loyal secretary and friend, though she’d never spoken the words aloud. For that he was grateful. He cared about her deeply, respected her even more, but she just didn’t move him the way a wife or possible wife should.
Whatever that means.
A nagging little voice insisted that he might miss out on a good thing while holding out for some fairytale emotion to sweep him away. He forced his mind off of that tangent and prayed that the Lord would send Debra someone special.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
“Come in,” he called and rose from his seat. The instant Jessica entered he knew exactly what the words fairytale emotions meant. Shaking off the feelings, he waved her into a chair, and then took his own again. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like you to get me out of my publishing contract.”
“Why on earth would you want to do that?”
Her chin jerked up. “Because it’s not what I want to write anymore.”
Paul leaned back in his chair. “You’re going to have to explain that to me before I deign to even consider the possibility.”
He left late for his ten o’clock appointment, his mind awhirl. They’d covered a lot of information in an hour-and-a-half. So much in fact, that he wished he could cancel the rest of his day to do the research he needed to help Jessica out of the dilemma she was in, instead of leaving it to Debra.
His reputation as a winner, champion for the underdog, hadn’t come without a price, specifically, hours upon hours of research. A task he gladly handed over whenever possible. But this case was a whole new venture for him. Entertainment Law was something he’d touched on briefly during his years as a lawyer and professor, but not in any depth. Definitely not the depth he needed to take on this case. When he’d mentioned that to Jessica, and offered to refer her to an acquaintance, she’d refused, determined that he be the one to save her.
Nothing like a damsel in distress to bring out the macho in a man.
Forcing his thoughts into some semblance of order, he managed to get through the rest of his meetings and appointments, as well as his evening class. Arriving home after nine, he grabbed a bite to eat then booted up his computer. He checked his email for the information he’d asked Debra to send over, printed it out and followed up with more research, making notes as he went. It was after midnight when he finally tumbled into bed, his mind still circling from the information he’d discovered—and he couldn’t wait for the week to pass so he could meet with Jessica again.
****
With care, Jessica dressed for her meeting with Paul in a flowery peasant skirt, simple white blouse, and sandals. No heels today. She hated heels, always had, wondering why women put themselves through such torture. For her, it was sandals or boots, maybe an occasional pair of sensible pumps.
Pulling her thick hair up into a ponytail, she tied a matching scarf around it and studied her reflection. Other than a touch of mascara to separate and lengthen her long, dark lashes, no makeup was necessary. In fact, despite the fact she’d slept only in snatches while holed up in her hotel room all week, her complexion was fairly bright—but then, the week had actually been exhilarating.
A story had never flowed as freely as this one. It was as though the minute she quit fighting the Holy Spirit, He’d lent wings to her words. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, barely able to keep up with her soaring thoughts. As a result she nearly had an entire rough draft complete. All in all, this had been a week well spent, and she hoped Paul would have good news for her this afternoon.
****
Paul studied his notes on Jessica and her case. He’d set her appointment at five o’clock this after
noon for two reasons. One, he’d needed the time to prepare and two he wanted no interruptions. “Come in,” he answered the knock on his door.
Debra entered. “You sure you don’t need me to hang around?”
“No. Thank you.”
“OK. The coffee pot is ready in case you want some later. All you have to do is turn it on.”
Paul noticed her hesitate and put down his notes with a sigh. He needed to talk to her, had put it off all week. “Can we talk a minute?” Had he been interested, her smile would have sealed his fate. His heart thudded with dread when she perched herself on the edge of the chair, and clasped her hands in her lap.
Paul took a deep breath, folded his hands on the desk and prayed for guidance, wisdom, and direction, but most of all, gentleness. “Debra, you know that I value you as a secretary.”
She nodded.
“And I hope you know how much I enjoy and appreciate your friendship.”
She nodded again, blinked fast and swallowed hard.
Paul’s heart cringed. “I hope you know I’d never want to disrespect, dishonor or hurt you in any way,” he continued, silent prayers going up with each breath as he searched for the words to let her down gently.
Again Debra nodded, her lips pursed, eyes filled with pain and devastation yet she uttered not a word.
“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” Paul muttered, and then smiled to soften his next words.
“As much as I value you, Debra, we can never be more than friends. I’m sorry if I’ve ever led you to believe otherwise, but...” he trailed off when a single tear escaped her rigid gaze.
Debra swiped the tear away in an angry gesture. “I know that.”
“I don’t want to lose you, Deb, but...” Her chin jerked up, eyes narrowed.
“Are you warning me or firing me?”
Paul shook his head in quick denial. “Neither. You didn’t let me finish.” He let out a deep breath. “I don’t want to lose you. But I’ll understand if you want to look for another position.”
Debra rose and tossed the hair off her shoulders with an angry shake of her head. “Did I say I wanted to do that?”
Paul rose also, surprised at the vehemence of her reaction. “No.”
“Then don’t put words in my mouth or ideas in my head. I can accept the fact that I’ve been a fool, Paul, but I can’t accept the fact that you think so little of me, or think that I think so little of myself, that I can’t handle rejection. Even from the likes of you.” Her eyes were nothing more than tiny slits of fire.
Paul cleared his throat, drew in a deep, calming breath and counted to ten. “I never thought that,” he said through clenched teeth. “My mistake,” he admitted.
Debra nodded. “Good, then we understand each other?”
“Perfectly,” Paul agreed.
“Fine, do you need anything before I go?”
He shook his head. “No. Thank you.”
“I’ll see you Monday, then,” Debra replied, then turned on her heel and marched out of the office.
Paul sank into his chair with heavy sigh. Well, at least she didn’t cry and whine and try and make him feel like a heel. No, not Debra, she simply knocked him off his high horse and politely put him in his place, he realized with a grin.
Thank God.
****
Jessica arrived to find Paul pouring a cup of coffee and grinning. “Someone’s in a good mood,” she remarked, unable to stop the smile tugging at her lips in response to his. The man’s too sexy for words not to mention my peace of mind.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted, “Coffee?”
“No, thank you.”
“C’mon in,” he invited and led the way to his office, the grin still playing on his lips.
“Said the spider to the fly,” she muttered, wondering what had the man so tickled.
Paul waved for her to take a seat and took his own after she settled in a chair. “How was your week?”
“Good and yours?”
“Ending with a bang,” he remarked, another chuckle escaping.
Jessica tilted her head, and waited for him to elaborate.
“Just had an enlightening conversation with my secretary,” he informed her.
“Where is she?”
“Gone, it’s not unusual for me to have late appointments.”
Her heart jumped into her throat. “So, we’re alone?”
Paul eyed her, a curious lift to his brow. “Does that bother you?”
She smiled, sat back in her chair and forced herself to relax. “Not unless you bite.” Or weave tangled webs.
He laughed, loosened his tie. “Not prone to, but who knows when the urge might overtake me?”
She couldn’t help but laugh.
Paul picked up his notes, sipped his coffee. Silence stretched between them.
“Did you find out anything?” Jessica asked.
Paul nodded. “Quite a bit, want the good news or the bad?”
“Give me the bad first.”
He grinned. “Well, it’s not really all that bad. I’ve read your contract and consulted with the legal department of your publisher, and there’s no way they’re going to let you out of it. You’re too valuable to them. The only option is for them to reject your next manuscript. However, there may be another solution.”
The comment got her full attention. He leaned back in his chair and regarded her over steepled fingers. “Did you know that the marketing director has been urging the publisher to start an inspirational line?”
“You’re kidding?” she breathed.
Excitement colored her cheeks; hope brightened her eyes. Paul’s breath stuck in his throat. He cleared it, took another sip of coffee. “I kid you not,” he assured. “As a matter of fact, your editor has been pushing for the same thing. My suggestion is that you write the next novel you’ve contracted keeping that in mind and submit it to them. You wanting to write in this genre will likely be the impetus for them to open the line. There’s no guarantee, mind you, but it’s worth a shot. The most they can do is to reject the manuscript, the least force a rewrite.”
“Oh, wow! I never thought. I mean, it never occurred to me,” she stammered. “I should have known, though, the Lord always makes a way. I don’t know why I ever doubted.”
Her laughter, full, joyous, and carefree feathered over him like a soft caress. The air around her vibrated with enthusiasm. Paul’s heart jumped into high gear, his hormones into overdrive. Every muscle in his body tensed with the effort it took to resist the urge to get up and sweep her into his arms. He took another sip of coffee, hoping the strong, aromatic flavor would curb his need.
It was cold, tasted like ashes in his mouth and caused his next words to come out with a bitter sting. “Your contract was simple. Jasper Tanner is another matter altogether.”
Her breath caught in an audible hiss, the smile fell from her face.
“Why didn’t you mention him on Monday?” Paul asked, noting the sudden pallor to her skin. The phone rang before she could respond. He picked it up, wondering who would be calling this late. “Hello?”
“Mr. Seville, its Norma.”
Paul sat straighter, instantly alert at hearing the voice of the home health nurse he’d hired to check on his mother. “What is it?”
“It’s your mother. I came to check on her as usual and found her extremely disorientated. She’s incoherent, lethargic, and slipping in and out of consciousness. I’ve called an ambulance, the paramedics are loading her up now, and we’re on our way to the hospital.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Paul assured, and fumbled to hang up the phone. “I’m sorry,” he said, rising from his seat. “We have to continue this another time. Call my secretary on Monday to reschedule.”
“What’s wrong?” She stepped in front of him, halting his departure. “Paul, what’s wrong?”
He took a deep breath, forced down the fear clamoring in his throat, fished in his pocket for his keys--which h
e promptly dropped--then bent to pick them up with a curse. “It’s my mother. The home health nurse found her incapacitated. I have to go.”
“I’ll drive you,” Jessica insisted, and took the keys from his inept fingers.
Paul didn’t argue. He simply handed over the keys and rushed to the parking garage with her close on his heels.
They arrived at the hospital minutes after the ambulance. Paul rushed into the emergency room where nurses and doctors were questioning the paramedics and Norma.
“Norma, what’s wrong. What happened?”
She stepped away from the gurney, pulling Paul with her outside the cubicle. “I’m not sure, but it appears she’s slipping in and out of consciousness due to low blood sugar; it happens with diabetics.”
“What?” Paul exclaimed. “But she doesn’t have diabetes!”
“Yes, Paul. She does.”
The blood drained from his face; the room swam before his eyes. He rubbed them, took a deep, calming breath, “Since when?”
Norma eyed him with more than a hint of concern showing in her eyes. “For about six months now. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”
He shook his head. “What would cause this to happen?”
“Blood sugar too high, or, as in your mother’s case, extremely low.”
“And what would cause it to be extremely low?”
“Too much insulin in the bloodstream,” Norma said.
“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Paul muttered.
“Me too,” Norma admitted. “She was fine when I checked on her this morning. Her blood sugar was good. I don’t think she’d take a shot on her own, but who knows? She seems to be more and more absentminded lately,” she sighed, rubbed at the tension creasing her brow.
“I don’t even know if she ate properly after I gave her the shot this morning. I mean, she promised that she would, but I couldn’t stay to make sure, and without adequate nutrition, the insulin has nothing to process. That too, can cause the blood sugar to drop substantially. Lately, I’ve been thinking that I should take her medications with me when I leave just to be safe. Now I wish I had. If only I’d stayed and at least made her eat,” she mumbled, burying her face in her hands.
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