“I…” Emily blinked and took another bite of the bagel, lips pursed in thought. “I don’t think I have an answer to that one. But thank you.”
“And that was said from a guy point of view…” Jack said hurriedly, meeting the curious look on her face. “I’ve been thinking about something you said…and it’s…wrong…that girls…women…” he change the word hurriedly.
“It’s okay…I am a girl. I like being a girl. I’m not offended by the term at all,” Emily said, enjoying their light chatter.
“Okay…good…girls have to watch what they wear, how they express themselves all because some guys are pigs,” Jack commented easily. “I never really thought about the…the wide disparity…”
“The sexes are not equal,” Emily said softly, sighing. “If our society ever gets to the stage where most disparities are vanquished, you’ll always have the hold outs, the men and women who make it difficult for the others. Whether it’s our salaries or our clothing, the handicap on females is there, despite all our advances. It’s acceptable for you to make a statement with your clothing, but when a woman does, she’s immediately branded…and it’s not a pleasant brand, generally.”
“Yeah…I guess being a guy, it’s just not something that ever registered,” he corrected himself immediately. “That’s not to say I can’t admire the appearance as well as the brain and talents behind the exterior.”
“You put together a good breakfast,” Emily remarked slowly, realizing she’d eaten most of the eggs he’d heaped on her plate. “I can save these for lunch…they’ll make a yummy sandwich. Thank you.”
“Glad you enjoyed it…it’s a little more fun eating with someone instead of gulping down food and running to open the shop,” Jack leaned back, watching her. “Ever been married?”
“I…no…no…can’t imagine a guy marrying a girl who can’t feed him,” she answered flippantly.
“Kind of crooked to expect the girl to do all that work,” Jack began cleaning up the table, taking the jam when she put the lid on.
“It’s what it is, Jack…” She shrugged, cleaning plates and stacking them for him on the end of the table. “Were you? Married?”
“I was,” he admitted quietly, loading the dishwasher and starting the cycle. “Lasted for three years…just after I left the military.”
“I’m sorry…people always have high hopes…what happened? If you don’t mind my asking…”
Jack flipped the chair and straddled it, his arms leaned across the back. “I didn’t realize how important the opinion of others was to her. We kept moving in higher and higher circles…social gatherings…events…a more fancy vehicle…high dollar vacations…I guess if I thought about it, I’d have realized it’s where the careers we had were headed.”
“You didn’t like it?” Her head tilted, a small frown creasing her lips.
“I don’t like lies…I don’t like fake…I don’t want to be back stabbed by someone claiming to be my friend,” Jack said flatly. “The more I saw, the more I pulled back and the more things went downhill.”
“It’s kind of sad if you can’t be yourself with someone who should be your friend and partner,” Emily said thoughtfully, her hands on the arms of the chair. Her movement came to a stop when he handed her a small white card.
“What do you think? We got the sample printed…” Jack waited, watching her face.
Emily looked from him to the small business card. Dazzling Designs was very nicely etched over the surface in sparkling gold letters, a scattering of gems of all colors around the shiny white card. Her mouth opened slowly.
“It’s very nice…” her finger rubbed softly over the raised lettering, lips pulled into a bow. “Jonathon ‘Jack’ Garrett…that’s you?” And he’d told her he was now working in shipping.
Jack saw her wince, her fingers raising and rubbing her temples. “That’s me…and Chet Greyson. Emily? Are you alright?”
“I…yes…yes, I’m fine…” she turned in the chair, grinding her teeth together and glancing at the book shelf near the door. “On that shelf, Jack…the large gold envelope.”
“You want it?” Jack got up, aware of the pounding inside his chest. He lifted the envelope, making certain he didn’t look at it and handed it to her.
“No…it’s yours,” she said quietly, closing her eyes and putting her head back for a long deep breath. “It’s yours…”
“Mine? Why would you have something of…” Jack looked at the front, the large neatly written script of his full name.
“You work for Northstar Shipping?”
“Yes,” technically, he thought. “Emily, why did you have this? What is it?”
“Jack…please…I don’t know those answers. I just know it’s yours. I really don’t want to…not now…can you help me get downstairs? I have some aspirin there and this headache is…annoying…” Emily pulled on the arms of the chair, sliding to the edge and stubbornly pushing herself to her feet.
“No matter…I’ll deal with it later,” he tossed it onto the table and went to stand with her. “Come on, I’ll get you downstairs…time to get to work.”
“Thank you…and thank you for not asking questions.”
“That’s your handwriting,” he said, going to stand in front of her at the head of the stairs that led into the shop.
“Yes…yes, it is…I…I’ll try and explain later…another time…” Emily kept her eyes on the stairs, holding tightly to the railing on each side as she took one step at a time.
“You’re doing good…” He moved at the bottom to let her pass. “Morning, Grace…” Jack pulled the wheeled chair out for her. “Okay…Emily…don’t try and go upstairs without help. Just…just stay here and…work…” he put his hands on the arms of the chair and leaned over. “You okay?” Her eyes were closed, her breathing forced into a steady pattern.
“I’m good…thank you…”
“Emily…look at me, please…you have over eighty stitches in your side. Whatever energy your body makes is going to go there to help it heal…when you get tired, call me. I will get you back upstairs and you can rest…alright?”
“Yes,” her head bobbed, pale lashes blinking. “Yes, thank you…”
“Alright…later…” Jack went back up the stairs, snatching up the envelope and returning to go out her back door.
“Wow…Emily!” Grace plopped into the other chair and wheeled over the flooring. “What happened? Were you scared?”
“Terrified,” Emily breathed the word aloud for the first time.
Grace listened, shaking her head. “The whole street is watching for him. Jack made a drawing and had us pass it out yesterday afternoon. Chet said he was totally pissed.”
“Jack?” Emily blinked, lifting her water bottle and standing up slowly. She went into the kitchen, filled the bottle with ice and water. “He’s an unusual man, Grace.”
“Well, the whole street is in a buzz…” Long, black hair moved as her head shook, thin gold glasses slid up her nose as she went back to her sewing. The topics changed to the new designs and the fabric spread out across the board.
Chapter Seven
It was slightly after eleven when Emily stood up, reaching high above her head in a long, slow stretch. The headache was gone and she was feeling a little better.
“I’m going across the street. I couldn’t shower and I want my hair washed and dried,” Emily opened her little purse and tucked some money into her pocket. “Be back in a bit,” she offered a wave as she walked slowly out of the shop, carefully maneuvering the curb and the light traffic. It was a gorgeous day, with bright sunshine and not a cloud in the clear blue sky.
Jack had gone back to the shop, dropped the envelope on his desk and stared at it. Several long minutes passed before he lifted his letter opener and slit the top, tipping the envelope up and letting the contents slide onto his desk. On top was a neatly hand written letter.
‘Mr. Garrett:
Please accept this proxy and these shares
for your pending merger with Tri-Seas Shipping. This represents approximately thirty-four percent of the share base. A great deal of thought and consideration has gone into this decision.
I’ve spoken to many people in your organization and others in the general business community with regards to your operating procedures and I have come to the conclusion that you are the single best hope if the employees at Tri-Seas are to continue their employment.
Your reputation is one of integrity, honesty and genuine concern where the well-being of both your company and its employees are concerned. I am particularly impressed with several of the programs you have in place for education and advancement through your organization.
I’m not sure how, but should you need any assistance from me, please feel free to call on me.
Yours Sincerely,
E. E. Temple’
His hand spread the papers out. All neatly notarized and in legal order. Two years ago when he began watching Tri-Seas, he quietly began buying up loose stock. He had managed eighteen percent. And Emily just handed him all he needed to finish the takeover. Jack turned and walked onto his small patio, his hands wrapped tightly around the iron railing, his gaze long and steady.
There was bright sunshine sparkling off the mist rising from the Sound and yet all he saw was a pair of teasing brown eyes and sexy bow in her full lips. Ships passed with their loud warning sirens and all he heard was her laughter or shouting at him.
He returned to the apartment, shoved the papers into the envelope and tucked them into his briefcase. He’d get it to his office safe in the morning. For now, he wanted nothing more complex than to get back to where he was before all hell broke loose yesterday. He locked up the apartment and wandered into the shop, glancing at Chet deeply into his smelting and molding.
It was a couple hours later that Chet cleared his throat.
“So…” Chet looked up from what he was working on, the barest hint of a breeze blowing around the skirt as Emily crossed the street, waving casually at passing cars. “You think Em’s okay?”
“Okay…how? She was terrified. She’s healing…so far she hasn’t managed to tear the stitches out,” Jack commented flatly, using the small tweezers to set a stone into one of Chet’s designs. Something in Chet’s voice had him looking up, the magnifying glass falling to his hand. “You have got to be kidding me…I told that woman…”
“Em’s kind of independent, boss…”
“Em’s about to get a lesson in listening,” he announced through his teeth, shoving back from the desk and stretching with a groan. “I think I need a haircut…hold down the fort…”
“No problem…” Chet said with a chuckle. He watched the purposeful, deliberate stride that broke into a light jog when cars came zooming up.
“Morning, Jack…” Cleo Chen greeted him with a smile. “Haircut time?” She gestured to the chair. “We’re kind of slow.”
“Yeah…you know the drill…off the ears…squared back, tapered…” his palm dragged over the side of his face. “If you could clean this up a bit, that’d be good, too.”
Jack could hear the other woman who worked there in the back, chattering away above the sound of running water.
“Heard all about the trouble yesterday. We pinned up the drawing you gave us…everyone’s on alert,” she assured him, using the clippers and beginning his haircut.
“Not a good day, Cleo…”
“Yeah…poor Emily…she had to be scared to death!”
“Oh, you have no idea,” he said quietly, listening to the water turn off. He saw Deana and Emily come walking from the back, Deana walking slowly with Emily at her side, one of Emily’s hands up and holding a thick towel about her head.
There was a streak of satisfaction when he caught her eyes in the mirror, his jaw clenched tightly.
Emily eased into the chair, sitting all the way back and closing her eyes, letting Deana comb through the long hair, her fingers moving expertly to weave it into a long French braid down her back. The creaking of the floor had her peeking to see Jack leave the chair and stand at the register. She winced and it wasn’t from pain.
Emily eased from the hair dresser’s chair and pulled a twenty from the small vest pocket, walking with the girl to the register and patiently waiting for her change.
Jack was sitting patiently, thumbing through a magazine.
That made her nervous. That made her wish she could make a run for the door. It would buy her a few minutes. But the thought popped into her head. She wasn’t afraid of him…..it wasn’t fear that would make her run, she realized. Something she definitely had to think about when she was feeling less…..hunted.
She accepted the change, dropping the money in her pocket and turning slowly. Jack lowered the magazine and patted the seat next to him, the look in his eyes telling her it would be a very smart thing to do at the moment. It was like being a rabbit waiting for the wolf to decide if he was really hungry. She swallowed and perched cautiously on the edge of the cushion.
“Why are we sitting here? Nice haircut,” she said with a nod, working hard to study the trimmed pale blond hair. Her eyes widened a little when he stood up and moved to stand in front of her. Towering above her, she thought with a gulp.
“I’m known as a really laid back kinda guy, Emily,” Jack began slowly.
“I…Jack…don’t you think we should…” she looked nervously toward the open door.
“I seriously have a reputation of being relaxed and calm in extremely adverse situations,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken.
“Well, you are dressed to…to reflect a calm, peaceful…”
“I rarely lose my temper. You’re taught that in officer training….” He leaned forward slowly, taking personal delight in the fact that she slid as far back on the cushions as she could manage. “However…over the last twenty four hours, you have managed to shoot holes in every piece of training I’ve ever gotten.”
“Jack, this isn’t a very private place to conduct…” Emily kept her voice low, aware of the audience.
“Then maybe,” he said in a low, calm voice as he continued to lean forward, matching each inch she slid back on the cushions. “You will listen to me and give a little more thought to your actions in the future.”
Emily raised one palm, one finger up that slowly fell to her lap, swallowing quickly and nodding.
“You crossed three lanes of traffic…”
“I used the cross walk!”
“Bare foot, Emily…”
“I have really tough feet,” she told him with a rapid bobbing of her head.
“I wonder how tough your behind will be when I wear it out for not listening?”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Her shoulders went up and straight, her eyes wide, flames tinting her cheeks. “Jack…” Fingers twined on her lap, one up with a point that she was positive was on the tip of her tongue. Emily cleared her throat, her tongue out to bring some much needed moisture to her lips. “I was very careful.”
“I told you to stay put. I told you to take it easy. I told you to call me,” he ground the sentences between his teeth.
“I knew you were busy and…I am not your responsibility,” she declared hurriedly.
“How’s your side feel?”
Emily watched the feral look in his eyes, her hands twisting together in her lap. “I’m not answering that one. You’ll just say I told you so and…”
“You thought you could sneak out and back without me noticing, didn’t you?”
“It had occurred to me…but not until after I was already here.”
“Let’s go,” he offered his hand, satisfaction inside him when even reluctantly, her hand rose and slipped into his. She slid to the edge of the cushions and pushed against it to stand slowly. Without asking permission or offering a warning, he stepped to her good side. One arm beneath her knees, the other at her lower back, he scooped her off the floor and headed for the open door, ignoring her yelp. “Ladies…thanks…”
<
br /> He pretended not to hear the laughter behind them as he walked across the street, very aware of Emily’s closed eyes and flaming cheeks.
“I have never…never…been so embarrassed…so humiliated…in my whole life,” she whispered hoarsely, swaying slightly when he set her on the floor of the shop. “I feel like a…a parcel!”
“Good,” Jack gripped her shoulders, their noses touching. He saw her swallow and peered fiercely into the wide eyes. “You remember it. And digest it. And if you forget it, I won’t have a problem reminding you…want to know why?”
“Um…okay…why…”
“Because I am not going to watch you pass out in the road or anywhere else for that matter and end up in the hospital with complications, have I made myself clear?” Jack watched the swift nodding, setting her back on the floor and striding from the building.
“Aww…he worries about you, Em…” Grace said with a sigh.
“Worries?” She growled, raising her voice considerably. “He’s a swaggering, over-bearing, tin-plated dictator with delusions of god-hood!” She shouted loudly, her scowl only deepening when she heard his deep laughter through the walls. “Ohhhh!” Emily flung herself into her chair, wincing and grinding her teeth.
“But I think he likes you,” Grace whispered with a chuckle, going to her large table and spreading the pattern to study where to begin.
Emily picked up the small pillow at her side and screamed into it. A long sigh broke when she lowered it.
“Better?” Grace asked casually. There were times they both used the pillow. Usually after dealing with a difficult customer.
“I think so,” Emily said with a shrug, gliding her chair to the sewing machine, studying what she’d left off and pinning and piecing carefully.
WindSwept Narrows: #3 Emily Temple Page 6
