by Gina LaManna
“You stopped by thinking I would be gone?” I gave him a funny look. “Why’d you do that?”
“I hoped you’d be home from work, but I wasn’t sure. I saw Babs and Annalise headed this way, so I figured there was a chance you got off early.”
“Oh,” I said. “I quit.”
“You quit? But I thought you just started.”
“It wasn’t a good fit.” I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Of course,” he said. “Well, I just wanted you to know that if you need help—”
“Luke, I’m not taking a loan from you.”
“I know you’ll pay it back.” He turned, resting his hands on my shoulder. “Think about it. It’s a bonus to doing business with me.”
“Is it a business move, or because we went on a date?”
“This isn’t charity, Lola, this is business. I want to work on your building. You need some help with financing. That’s what business is about.”
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Now, can I switch subjects?” Luke stopped walking. “I’d like to try our date again. Are you free tomorrow night?”
I smiled. “I promise, no work interruptions.”
“Good,” Luke said. “Now, may I do this?”
He leaned in and brushed a kiss against my lips. It brought a smile to my face, and a light to his eyes.
“I have to get going,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow.”
SUCCESS, Annalise texted later that evening.
I smiled, plugged my phone into the charger and slid under the covers, curled up in my bed. I left the window open because I was on the second floor, and the cool breeze brushing over the fluffy gray comforter was soothing.
Annalise had successfully delivered the money to Semi. That’s what the text had been about. Semi would bring it back to Mr. Clark, and we would be square.
Then I’d apply to new jobs in the morning, and I’d reconsider Luke’s offer for a loan. Maybe we could work out some sort of repayment system where I worked as his receptionist a few days a week handling calls, scheduling, that sort of thing.
I closed my eyes, the sea salt fresh in the air as I sunk into sleep. Everything would be okay, I decided. It would all work out.
Until things didn’t work out.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I heard it. A bump.
It came from downstairs.
My eyes flashed open as I pulled the comforter up to my chest and breathed deeply, waiting, praying whoever was downstairs would go away. Unfortunately for them, they’d come a few hours too late to steal my money. By now, the hundred and twenty thousand dollars should be back where it belonged in Mr. Clark’s hand.
Everything went silent.
The clock blinked three in the morning. I leaned toward the edge of my bed listening, waiting. When all remained quiet for the next few minutes, I slid out of bed and grabbed the closest thing to me—a pair of shoes. They were high heels, very, very high. Babs had left them here the other night and borrowed my sandals to walk home after a few glasses of wine and several episodes of The Bachelor. These things could poke an eye out—or worse.
I crept downstairs, skipping all the creaky stairs. I’d learned about the stairs when I was a teenager. Babs had been a fan of late-night emergency meetings at the water tower. It’s not that Dotty didn’t let me go—she encouraged my friendships with the girls. She just didn’t want to be woken up at four a.m. and frankly, neither had I most of the time.
But in this moment, I was glad to have Babs as a friend. She’d left the shoes and taught me how to sneak through my own house. If only she were here now, armed with eggs. Since she wasn’t, it was up to me to take care of business.
Inhaling a deep breath, I poked my head around the corner, taking care not to move too quickly. There he was. Tall, black suit. Back to me.
Graham Industries, I thought with a start. It had to be Graham Industries. After the surprise meeting today, the poaching of clients. Maybe after I said no to Gary’s proposal, the man in charge had decided to take action. Drastic action.
Holding a heel in my hand, I slid around the corner.
The man straightened from his position at the sink, the cupboard below it wide open.
The steady drip of water triggered a memory—a recent memory. Luke. The same faucet Luke had loosened just to ask me out must be broken again.
I moved behind one of Dotty’s chairs and paused. Now was not the time for my brain to be focusing on plumbing issues. I needed to determine if the man was looking for something—who knew what, since I had nothing valuable—and if he had a gun. I had to assess whether he was armed, if he planned to hurt me, or if he might leave of his own accord.
Then the figure bent underneath the sink again. Another bump, a particularly descriptive swear word, and suddenly—I recognized the voice.
“Dane?” I leapt out from behind the chair, wielding Babs’s heels like a sword. “What are you doing here?”
Mr. Clark whipped around. He wore all black—a suit, fancy jacket, spotless shoes—and a surprised look. His face glowed under the ray of moonlight streaming in through the front windows, his eyes a shade of blue pulled from the sky itself. “Lola.”
“Yes,” I said, forming my words slowly. “Why are you surprised? This is my house.”
“I broke your faucet.”
“What?”
“I broke your faucet.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Isn’t this romance?”
“Dane...” I paused, shaking my head. “Did you drink something funny tonight? Did Semi put you up to this?”
To my surprise, his face took on a pinched look, as if he were suddenly uncomfortable. “I’m doing this all wrong, aren’t I?”
I gently set the heels on the table. Babs would be happy to hear I’d used them in a crisis, and she’d also be happy to hear I hadn’t needed to use them.
“Talk to me, Dane.” I walked over to the kitchen and filled the teakettle, placing it on the stove to heat. “Tell me everything, and start from the beginning.”
“I don’t understand women,” Dane said. “Why do you think they set me up for dates with fashion models and beautiful ladies?”
“Is that a serious question?” I raised an eyebrow, shrugging a shoulder at the same time. “Because you’re rich and mysterious and people like to read about hot celebs getting together?”
“It’s staged. Photoshoots. Dates sometimes, but the girls can’t hold conversations about anything other than their hair for five minutes.”
“Then why do you go?”
“Because it’s sexy.” Dane’s eyes flashed at me. “That’s what my PR reps say, at least. They tell me that if I want to bring the Clark Company to the next level, I have to make it glamorous. Trendy.”
“Sex sells,” I said.
“Exactly.” He glanced down at his hands, his voice even. “A recluse who spends his time programming computers and running from one meeting to the next isn’t sexy. A man who cannot hold a normal conversation with a woman without help from his butler is not mysterious or dangerous, he’s a fool. Someone who does not give a damn about what suits are stocked in his closet isn’t fashionable, he’s sloppy. And none of that sells products.”
“You’re a technology company. You don’t have to be sexy.”
“Cars. Phones. Advertising. Even books and movies. There’s an element of seduction to it all—at least, for the best in class. The elite. And if Clark Company wants to cater to the biggest clients, the most discerning crowds, I have to put up a public facade that reflects our brand.”
“Okay, well, that’s great. But what are you doing breaking my pipes?”
“I think I like you, Lola.”
“Sorry, I don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand women. Feelings, emotions, manners—they don’t come naturally to me.”
“I’d never have g
uessed.”
“But then Semi delivered the money I left for you. He put it back in my hands and something happened. My…” He paused, a hand going to rest on his chest. “My pulse raced. I felt angry for no real reason. I was upset you gave me the money back when it’s yours to have.”
“I didn’t do my job. I can’t take your money.”
“I gave it to you, which means it’s yours.”
“I also lied. I only need a hundred thousand, and I threw in an extra twenty because I never thought you’d agree to it in the first place.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“I broke your pipes, and I don’t know how to fix them,” Dane said, his eyes glittering as he met my gaze head-on. “I’m sorry about that, truly. I will pay for the repairs. But I also broke your computer, and I do know how to fix that.”
“Why are you breaking my things?”
“I watched some movies, Miss Pink. Romances.”
My jaw dropped open.
“If I learned one thing from them, it’s that men act irrational when they like a woman. So here I am, breaking all of your things and acting irrational. That’s what Luke did—he broke your plumbing for an excuse to spend time with you. Well, here I am breaking your pipes.”
“But you don’t know how to fix them, so that defeats the purpose.”
“I’ve apologized about that. But I can fix your computer.”
I couldn’t tell if I should laugh or cry as Mr. Clark led me over to the kitchen table. My laptop was open, though it’d been closed when I went upstairs.
“See here?” Mr. Clark pointed to the screen. “It’s completely crashed. If you took it to a store, they’d tell you to get a new computer.”
“Oh, wonderful,” I said. “Just what I need.”
“Give me a few seconds.” Dane’s fingers flew over the keys, his eyes focused on the screen.
The uncertainty that’d hovered over his being slid away as he slipped into the zone, and surprisingly, I found myself intrigued. Watching him work was almost like watching a skilled athlete—the way his eyes moved, his fingers glided over the keyboard. The subtle shifts in his seat as he waited for the screen to change.
“There.” He looked up, a flash of pride in his gaze. “It’s all fixed.”
“Oh, well... how ‘bout that?” I forced a smile. “Gee, thanks so much.”
A line of concern creased his forehead. “I’m not romancing very well, am I?”
“You’re romancing just fine.” Thankfully, the teakettle whistled then, sparing me further lies. “Tea?”
“Chamomile, if you have it.”
I plunked two chamomile tea bags into a pair of large, chipped mugs that had been our favorites when Dotty was alive. “What do you want to come out of this?” I asked Dane. “This whole romancing thing you’re trying.”
Dane ignored his tea and stood up. “I couldn’t sleep tonight. I stared at the ceiling, and when I’d force my eyes to close, I’d see your face. I’d hear you talking to me. I don’t understand why, but I can’t stop thinking of you, Miss Pink.”
Good thing it was dark because I’m pretty sure my cheeks were as pink as my name. “That’s really sweet, Dane.”
“I think I need you.”
“This doesn’t change what we were talking about earlier,” I said softly. “Why I left.”
“I hired Nicolas back,” Mr. Clark said. “I offered him his job and he accepted three hours ago.”
“Really?”
“Yes…” He exhaled a long breath. “It somehow felt like the right thing to do.”
“It was.” I reached out and squeezed Dane’s arm. “I promise you.”
“Come back, Lola. Please. As my personal assistant, as whatever you like.”
“I have a date tomorrow,” I said. “Away from the castle.”
“Luke.”
“Yes.”
“Cancel it.”
“I can’t do that. I’ve already cancelled once on him—halfway through—and he’s a nice guy. I have to go—want to go.”
“If you don’t want me to romance you, I understand. But please come work for me.”
“Same contract?”
Dane paused. “What does it matter? You won’t read it anyway.”
I laughed. “Was that a joke?”
He matched my smile. “I’ve been practicing.”
We sat together in the darkness, both sipping our tea in even intervals.
“I would’ve never taken a job with Graham Industries, you know,” I said. “And neither would Nick.”
“I realize that now.” A note of graveness lined his words. “Mrs. Dulcet explained to me after I returned home. Graham Industries had offered her a position too, and that she’d rather retire permanently than betray me. She even went on to explain that Nicolas and you were equally as loyal.”
“We are,” I said. “I promise.”
“It was a misunderstanding,” Mr. Clark said. “I’m sorry. I’ve apologized to them both, and you deserve an apology too.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “You have a lot going on.”
A glimmer crossed his face. “Yes. That’s true.”
“So, nine o’clock in the morning I’ll report for duty?” I stood up, gathering our teacups. “Thank you for the job offer, Mr. Clark.”
“Dane, please.”
“Dane.”
We faced each other, my back to the sink. Dane moved close to me, inches away. The familiarity of his scent, shower gel and sharp freshness, made me a little weak-kneed as I swayed toward him.
“I think I love you, Lola.”
“Dane, no,” I said gently. “We met each other this week. Life isn’t... it’s not a movie script. Some things take time. Love is one of those things.”
“But...” A note of concern crept into his words. Then he lifted a hand, brushing the back of his knuckles against my cheek. “I don’t understand what I’m feeling if it’s not love.”
Our lips were inches apart, a breath away from a kiss when everything went wrong again.
The door burst open, the person behind it not bothering to use the knob. The wooden frame dangled from its hinges as a breathless Semi stopped inches away from the two of us.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Boss,” he said, backing away at the sight of Mr. Clark and me in a near kiss. “I didn’t realize—”
“What is it?” Mr. Clark asked sharply. “Is there a problem?”
“Prowler on the premises. I came inside to warn you both,” Semi said. “I chased him away, but I didn’t get a glimpse of who he was or what he was after.”
“That settles things,” Dane said. “Miss Pink, grab what you need for tomorrow and come with me. Tonight, you’ll stay at the castle.”
“But—”
“That is final,” Mr. Clark said. Before he pulled away from me, however, he winked. “You’d know that’s in the rules if you read the contract.”
“Dane, about this...” I gestured between us. Semi had left the room, the sound of the SUV engine revving in the distance. “I don’t know what it means.”
“It means you’re working for me as my personal assistant,” Mr. Clark said. “We have a blueprint to locate.”
“Yes, but—”
“I think I want to kiss you, Lola Pink, but I won’t do that so long as you’re my employee,” Dane said. “And if you’d read the contract, you’d know that too.”
“I have a date with Luke tomorrow.”
“Go, if you like.”
“I’m going,” I said firmly, and I had the feeling I was convincing myself as much as him. “Then, we’ll see.”
“I understand.”
I changed tracks. “Why did you say you loved me?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know.”
“Well, when you have an answer, will you tell me?”
Dane Clark didn’t have an answer then, and he didn’t make any promises to me. But he did cross the distance between us in three steps a
nd clasped my face between his hands. He lowered his lips to mine, testing out a kiss—slow at first, exploratory. His lips melted against mine, soft and tender in a way that exposed an entirely new side of Dane Clark.
When he stepped back, we were both breathless.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I said when I finally managed to speak. “I thought you weren’t going to do that while I was your employee.”
“Oh, I’m not.”
“Well, what gives?”
He winks. “You’re not on the clock yet.”
“It’s so wonderful to have you back,” Mrs. Dulcet said over breakfast the next morning. “I was worried I wouldn’t get to shop for a young lady’s clothing anymore. I really did have a great time putting your closet together.”
“I’m happy to be back,” I said brightly. As I eased into my usual dining room chair, I glanced around the room, the formalities now comfortable, welcome even. “I beat Mr. Clark this morning?”
“He apologizes,” Mrs. Dulcet said. “He has a very busy morning and had breakfast several hours ago.”
I looked at my watch. Eight a.m. “Boy, that was early.”
“I promise you it’s the truth.” Mrs. Dulcet poured coffee from the pot into a mug and set it in front of me. She winked. “On the bright side, I brought out extra biscotti. No one’s watching.”
“Thank you,” I said as she turned to leave. “Wait! Are you hungry? Sit down and have some breakfast.”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t.”
“Come on, I don’t like eating alone. And I can bring my own plate to the sink. If someone needs coffee in the meantime, they can get it themselves.”
“Dear, I should really get back to work.” Mrs. Dulcet stared at the biscotti more longingly than even I’d done. “It’s busy at the castle today.”
I took my time dunking biscotti in my coffee, savoring the first bite of the sweet, tender cookie. “Are you sure?” I asked with a grin. “Because this is delicious.”
She took a step closer.
“I have business questions for you, anyway,” I said. “I need to find out what has been happening in the castle since I was away. Take a seat, sister.”
Mrs. Dulcet disappeared for a moment. I worried I’d scared her away, but she returned just as quickly with a mug of her own and placed it on the table before an empty chair. “Pass the biscotti.”
