Lessons in Love

by Kathryn R. Blake

  Though she heard his firm steps right behind her, he refrained from touching her or saying anything until they were well away from Executive Fashions. "I'm still legally responsible for you, Pam," he reminded, as he stepped forward to walk at her side. "If you choose to go with your mother, I won't stop you, no matter how much I might want to, but you must stay with me until she takes custody."

  She whirled to face him. "I'm not a child."

  "No one said you were," he answered, gently pulling her aside as he spoke with quiet firmness. "But the courts determined you are still a risk to yourself, so you've got to remain under someone's supervision until you are cleared by a doctor."

  "I didn't try to kill myself," she insisted, barely holding back her desire to stomp her foot at him in frustration.

  "Lower your voice, unless you want everyone in the city to hear what we're discussing. Whether or not you intended to end your life is a moot point. Your actions showed a lack of judgment that could have proved fatal. You even admitted to having a history of self-harm that put you on a suicide watch while you were in prison. You are emotionally fragile right now, and you need someone to hold and protect you until you're steadier. I don't think your mother can provide that care, while I believe I have."

  She shook her head.

  "I haven't?" he inquired, his eyebrows raised.

  "No. I mean, in some ways you have. There are moments when I'm more centered, stronger, happier…. Then, something like this afternoon happens, and I begin to doubt everything. So, tell me, sir. What am I to you, and what do you expect me to become?"

  "Let's sit in the car where we can talk undisturbed." He checked his watch. "It's one fifteen, and our guests are due at the office by two, so we've got a few minutes to discuss this through."

  She started to turn away. "Don't bother. I'm fine."

  He grasped her near the elbow, not hard, but firmly enough she'd need to yank back her arm if she wished to get free. "You're clearly not fine, and I want to get to the bottom of this before we meet with your mother."

  "By all means. What you want and need always come first, don't they?"

  "That not only isn't fair, Pam, it's not true."

  "Sorry," she muttered. Though her apology was far from heartfelt, she let him escort her to his limo, and slid to the middle of the roomy back seat. However, she didn't turn to face him when he sat beside her.

  "I believe the reason you are so upset is because you were blindfolded with earphones on when I stepped into the room, and that made you feel exposed and vulnerable. Am I right?"

  She shrugged.

  "I would appreciate a verbal reply, please."

  "I guess that's part of it."

  He waited, so she answered, "Yes, sir."

  "I had no grand plan to strip away your dignity by watching you while you were blissfully unaware of my presence. That wasn't my intention at all, and I've explained as much to you."

  She nodded. "I know. But, unfortunately, knowing your reason for being there doesn't change how you made me feel."

  "Which is?"

  "Like I'm your pet project. A temporary plaything."

  "So, what did I do, in particular, that makes you feel cheapened and used?"

  She thought about his play at the restaurant but shook her head. He hadn't done anything more than she'd welcomed from him before. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

  He let out a long sigh. "You are who you are, Pam. I respect that, and," he added, holding up his hand when she opened her mouth to interrupt, "and I am not on a crusade to change you into a different person. We've undertaken this journey together. I require you to be honest and respectful, but I don't expect you to be an obedient automaton with no mind of her own."

  Running his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration, he admitted, "As to the other…. I'm at a loss as to what else I can do to convince you I want much more between us than to just get into your pants. I'm not as modest or inhibited as you, so I may occasionally stretch your comfort zone, but I have no wish to embarrass or humiliate you. Ever. You, however, need to decide whether or not you trust me to do what is best. To understand and accept I will put your needs before mine, always. Give that some thought this afternoon while we meet with your mother to determine who has your best welfare at heart." Then, picking up the phone, he instructed Paul to take them to his office.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Pam strode into the conference room with Rob's hand resting protectively at the small of her back. Both John Jacobs and her mother, along with two other men Pam didn't recognize, were already seated. Rob pulled out a chair for her across the table from her parole officer then sat between her and one of the other men, with whom he spoke in a low voice.

  "Mr. Peterson," Jacobs began. "I would prefer to speak to Miss Weston alone, without you or your lawyer present."

  Rob smiled, though his expression held all the warmth of the devil announcing that people in hell wanted ice water, too. "I would suggest, Mr. Jacobs, that we begin with introductions so everyone understands who the players are. I'll start. I'm Robert Peterson, CEO of Peterson Enterprises. On my left is Pamela Weston, whom I believe most of you know, and on my right is Donald Fitzwilliam, my head legal counsel. Perhaps you would be kind enough to return the favor, Mr. Jacobs?"

  Jacobs nodded. "Of course. I am John Jacobs, Miss Weston's assigned parole officer. On my left is Mrs. Cleary, Miss Weston's mother, and seated next to her is her lawyer, Benjamin Putty."

  "Pully," Benjamin corrected as he extended his hand to Rob. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Peterson."

  Rob shook the man's hand, then sat back. "I wish I could say the same, Mr. Pully, but I understand you are here because of some concerns Mrs. Cleary expressed, and I would like to learn what those are, precisely."

  "As I am the one who requested this meeting, perhaps I should begin," Jacobs stated. "Mrs. Cleary believes your management has proved detrimental to her daughter's health and well-being, Mr. Peterson, and requests Miss Weston be transferred to her care for the remainder of her court mandated supervision."

  "Can she cite any specifics in relation to the supposed detriment?" Rob asked, his tone casual and pleasant, but with a sharp edge.

  "The reason she ended up in the hospital to start with," Margaret Cleary spat back, making no pretense of her intense dislike of Rob. Even so, Pam sensed her mother's outrage was little more than a cloak covering the shoulders of greed. "It was because of you that she took those pills with wine in the first place, wasn't it?"

  "In a manner of speaking, yes. However, her overdose was accidental, and I believe I am able to provide her with better care than you can, Mrs. Cleary. Both medical and otherwise."

  "Medical?" Pam's mother repeated before gazing at Pam in surprise. "What sort of medical attention is he talking about?"

  Pam opened her mouth to answer, but Rob cut her off. "She requires an appetite booster with a tranquilizer shot twice daily, in addition to 24/7 supervision. Doctor's orders. I was trained to administer the injections, and I have an educated nurse on staff to address her needs at any time when I am not available."

  "Tranquilizers? You never needed tranquilizers when you lived with me," Margaret Cleary announced, puffing up slightly.

  "True," Pam replied, tired of her mother's pretense of caring. "I required a straitjacket instead because of the things your husband did to me. To both of us."

  "All right, ladies," Jacobs said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Perhaps we should stick to the problem we're facing today, rather than dredge up the past."

  "She started it," Pam muttered, aware she sounded petulant but too angry to care.

  Rob canted a warning glance in her direction but remained silent.

  "My point is that my daughter is worse off now than she was before. She told me herself that Mr. Peterson required her to be available at all times, even on the weekends. Surely that can't be healthy for her."

  "He doesn't make me work on the weekends, Mother," Pa
m answered, realizing the man hardly made her work at all. He was too busy giving her a total makeover.

  "But you said—"

  "I know what I said, but I was simply trying to get you off of the phone. I hoped he was calling because I wanted to talk to him. The question is, why are you here? You and I both understand that you couldn't care less about my recovery. So, what are you after? Money?"

  Margaret Cleary sputtered. Pam rarely, if ever, talked back to her mother, but she suspected the woman was up to something. "Of course not. Why would you even think that?"

  "Because you don't care about me. You wouldn't even stand up for me in court. I was sixteen years old, and you let—"

  "Enough, Pam!" John Jacobs insisted. "That is not why we're here today. I want to make sure you're situated in the best place for you. I was the one who suggested you apply for this position, but, given your mother's concerns, I can't help but question if I didn't make a mistake." He glanced over at Rob who said nothing, so he returned his gaze to Pam. "As your employer, Mr. Peterson retains certain obligations toward you, but none of those require him to take you on as his personal charge. The fact he chose to do so makes me wonder if he isn't placing undue influence upon you for his own purposes."

  "He's not," Pam answered, crossing her arms and sinking back in her chair. Despite her differences with Rob, she much preferred his companionship to her mother's bickering.

  "So you say, but I question whether your response would differ if he wasn't here."

  Rob turned to her. "I'll leave, if you wish. I'm here solely to support you."

  Pam shook her head. "I want you to stay." She sat up straight. "Mr. Jacobs, I possess no desire to live with my mother ever again, and Rob Peterson treats me better than she ever did. Is that clear enough?"

  John Jacobs nodded. "So, tell us why you took sleeping pills with alcohol, Pam."

  "I had a glass of wine, thinking it would help me sleep, since Mr. Peterson wanted me to get some rest. Except I was too wired, so I took one pill. It didn't work, either. If one was good, two are better, right? I didn't intend to take half the bottle. I wasn't attempting suicide."

  "Why was Mr. Peterson so concerned about the amount of sleep you were getting?"

  "Because I didn't rest well the night before, and I had a headache. He felt I needed to take better care of myself."

  "I see. So, you would prefer to remain under his guidance for the time being?"

  "Actually, I'd like to go back to my own apartment, but since I require supervision until I am cleared by a doctor, then, yes. I choose to stay with Mr. Peterson." She glared at her mother. "You don't have a case, mother dear, so you can drop your mask of concern. You aren't getting a dime if I have anything to say about it."

  "I am hurt you think so little of me, Pam."

  "Yeah, I'm sure you are." She turned back to her parole officer. "Are there any other questions for me, Mr. Jacobs?"

  Jacobs stared at Rob for a moment before he shook his head. "No. I think you've addressed our doubts for the moment."

  "Then, may I be excused?"

  When John Jacobs nodded, Pam rose and left the room.

  Rob called after her. "Pam…."

  "I'm just going upstairs to talk to Krista."

  "No work," he reminded.

  "I remember," she replied, taking a deep breath before she walked down the hall and into the elevator that would take her up to the fiftieth floor.

  Pam glanced over at her desk as she strode across to Krista's cubicle, but her replacement was either absent or temporarily out of sight.

  "Pam!" Krista cried out with surprise as she leaped up to hug her. "Ooh, love the new haircut. Shorter hair looks really good on you. I'm delighted to see you but surprised. I didn't think Rob would allow you within fifty yards of this place until you'd been approved to work. Were you? Is that why you're here?"

  Though she shook her head, Pam couldn't help smiling at Krista's obvious enthusiasm. "I see the doctor again in a couple of weeks. Until then I'm on 'no work' orders."

  Krista took a quick glance around before she grabbed Pam's arm. "Come on. Let's go into the executive conference room, so we can talk."

  Pam followed her into the pristine polished-mahogany and glass room and accepted the soda Krista purloined from the recessed fridge. The room even had a fully stocked bar, primarily for guests, though Pam had never seen Rob entertain in there. After they settled, Krista leaned forward. "So, spill. What brought you here today?"

  "Nothing exciting. My mother was raising a stink about me living with Rob, so I had to meet with her and my parole officer. Since Rob suspected the discussion would be heated, he scheduled it here."

  Krista waggled her eyebrows. "Wow! Conservative much?"

  Pam laughed. "No, it's nothing like that. Trust me, my loving mother couldn't care less who I live with, she merely wants to cash in on what she perceives to be the golden goose. And by that, I mean Rob's money, but I made sure she got nothing."

  "So, why isn't Rob with you? I thought he was keeping you on a short leash."

  "He is. He's finishing up the meeting, and I hope he throws my mother out on her ass. I couldn't stand to be near her one minute longer." Then Pam leaned forward. "What's her name?"

  Krista grinned, not needing to ask who she meant. "Kathy. Kathy Martel." When she continued to stare at her friend with raised eyebrows, Krista asked, "What? Would you like me to introduce you?"

  "Not yet. I want to know all about her. What she's like, how she's doing, whether Rob likes her? Will I still have a job when I'm released?"

  Krista laughed at that question until she realized Pam was serious. "A job? Um, probably not, because I suspect your boss has other plans for you."

  Pam shook her head. "Not any longer. I sort of exploded at him earlier today, and he laid out my options. I think he's worried we are ill-suited for each other, but he refuses to give up."

  "He may not be happy with you for losing your temper, but I sincerely doubt anything you could do or say would alter his feelings. You moved to the top of his list, you know?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "If you phone, he's to be reached, no matter where he is, immediately, or heads will roll."

  Pam chuckled. "Yeah, right."

  "Don't scoff. You recall the look he gets when he makes you feel about three feet tall?"

  "I became quite familiar with that particular expression today."

  "Well, he had it in spades when we met in here this morning. First thing, he pulled all the admins together—I guess you were off getting your hair styled or something—and laid out his instructions for us. He was completely serious about making you a top priority, and if one of us drops the ball…. Well, let's just say we'll be lucky if we find ourselves working in the admin pool."

  "You're joking."

  "Not a bit. And, tomorrow, he needs to take another trip so I get another play day with you."

  "A trip? I wonder when he planned to tell me?"

  Krista shrugged. "It's something that came up last minute, as usual."

  "Even so, he shouldn't drag you away from work like that. It isn't professional. Won't Adam be upset?"

  "Nope. He's going with Rob. I need to stay late tonight to get some things ready for them, but tomorrow they insisted the other girls can handle the phones while you and I have fun at the Enchanted Mansion. I get a paid vacation day, which doesn't count against my numbers, so I couldn't be happier."

  "He's probably afraid I'll run away if he leaves me alone too long."

  "Why?" Krista grew suddenly serious. "I mean, you're happy, aren't you?"

  "Oh, you were so right. Though we barely know each other, I've fallen totally in love with him, and I'm certain it's not going to end well. He's the CEO, for God's sake, and I'm nobody. He can't seriously be considering a long-term relationship with me. Even you said his past track record doesn't foretell a promising future. Eighteen months is the longest so far, right?"

  "Yeah, but you're differe
nt, Pam. Stephanie never lived with him. I'm not sure she even slept with him."

  "Neither have I. Not yet, but I'm sure that's only a matter of time, if he doesn't send me packing, and then where will I be? His mistress?"

  "Or his wife?"

  "Krista, let's be realistic. I realize he cares for me, and wants what's best for me, but even if he loves me, he's not going to marry me. Why would he, when he could get almost any woman he desires by crooking his little finger? I'm a mess. I understand he gains satisfaction from taking on hopeless, wounded cases, but he doesn't wed them. He employs them, repairs and renovates them, then moves on to his next project. He's a fixer, and I'm his latest challenge, but relationships like ours don't end 'happily ever after' in real life."

  "I thought that way, too, in the beginning, but I feel differently now. When he spoke about you this morning, nothing about him exhibited the attitude of a man in a casual relationship."

  "Casual? Maybe not. But permanent? Only in my dreams. Anyway, we could talk all day about what Mr. Peterson intends to do with me and never get anywhere. I came up here to find out about Miss Kathy Martel. So, spill already."

  "I'm not sure we should be discussing her. It could be considered business."

  "Since when were mere rules enough to stop you? And, no, I think as long as we keep to people and don't stray into details about a specific case, we'll be fine."

  "Okay. She's sweet, but talk about hopeless…. Oh, honey, you have no idea."

  "So, you don't think she'll last?"

  "This is only her second day. HR sent her up here on Friday, but Rob wasn't here all day, so he didn't need to work with her. He asked her to do a couple of things for him this morning, and I thought she would hyperventilate, she got so nervous."

  "What happened?"

  "Adam mentioned he'd found a potential client, so Rob asked Kathy to get the file for him. She panicked. Totally. Instead of asking me if I knew where the prospectus was, she started to tear apart your desk in her search for it. Wondering what the racket was about, Rob came out to investigate and asked her what she was doing. By then she was on her hands and knees going through your bottom file drawer. When she told him she was getting the company portfolio he'd asked for, he nodded, smiled, and said, in his sweet voice that underneath implies you're a blithering idiot, 'Go ask, Krista. She's got it.'